#dame
When she starred in 'Keeping Up Appearances', she did a great job.
She starred as Hyacinth Bucket and Hyacinth was a snob.
Patricia was a British actress and she was a Dame.
Now that she's gone, England won't be the same.
When she starred as Hyacinth, she was ashamed of her sisters.
Patricia was very talented and all of her fans sure will miss her.
She was ninety-six years old and it's so sad because she had to die.
All of her fans are unhappy because they're having to say goodbye.
Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 7:34 AM UTC
On a summer day I saw a pretty dame
bathing in the warm waves of the beach's tub.
She tanned her skin to adorn her slim frame,
massaging its softness with each gentle rub.
From that distance, she exuded sweet fragrance
stemming from the refining of her radiance.
Sensual movements from lips, hips, curves, legs and hands
made me fantasize as I relished each moment.
My love-struck eyes gazed at the rhythmic movement
of this ******** clad model for all lands.
After a sunbath, she tied her pristine towel,
then with a fixed look, she gazed straight at me.
'Hello, the adventurous gentleman,' said she.
'You sure look gay, hale, hearty and swell.'
Shyly my fears of rejection loomed large,
whilst my love dreams turned out to be a mirage.
Aug 8, 2021
Aug 8, 2021 at 7:45 AM UTC
This is an Autumn year,
How does it feel, my dear?
Autumn wakes up crisp and fresh,
But soon chills creep upon her breath,'
Autumn is a grey old dame,
Clouds and rain here again,
Autumn looks back on youthful summer,
Golden glow all gone, total ******
Sep 1, 2019
Sep 1, 2019 at 1:04 AM UTC
Ma fine Muse
Je te jure passion indéfectible et courtoise
Vénération et totale soumission
Je suis vassal et dévôt chevalier
Prêt à guerroyer de tournois en tournois
Pour mon inaccessible dame suzeraine.
Tu m'as octroyé pour encourager ma flamme
Un mouchoir brodé de tes initiales
Comme gage de ton amour adultère
Et quand le désir de toi me ronge, me consomme
Et me brûle de jalousie
C'est avec extase que je presse
Contre mon front tes douces initiales.
Fais de ton fine et fol amant
Ce que tu voudras
Je suis ton esclave
Assermenté
Je ne cherche ni liberté
Ni affranchissement
Et s'il te plaît que je meure
Je mourrai de fine amour
En chantant la joie de ta beauté précieuse
Comme un troubadour et sa viole pieuse.
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 2:50 AM UTC
The Cathedral stands
at the heart of the city,
so pure and beloved,
so strong and enduring.
Year after year,
through thick and through thin,
Through revolution and war
Our Lady stays strong.
Just one spark
Inconsequential and small.
Surely it couldn’t
bring her down to her knees.
Pride of the city,
the city of love,
it’ll take more
than just one spark.
But sparks turn to embers,
and embers to flames,
and before we know it,
all is engulfed.
The problem we have
is that things made of wood
may seem so strong
but they always can burn.
We try to save her,
She means too much to us all.
Something so beautiful
can’t just burn down.
But the flames grow higher
and the spire collapses.
Can she be saved?
Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 10:09 AM UTC
In the ashes of purgatory
where remnants of a Dame once lived
the Phoenix will fly.
Fly into heavens gate.
Drift gracefully in moment
that ascends to a blue sky,
so all can celebrate light.
Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 9:02 AM UTC
When the cinders cool and the answer seekers
pick their way through the charred rubble
what will they find? A medieval carpenter's chisel, a pair of rosary beads, pigeon droppings, the down from an angel's wing, the tears of saints.
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 10:54 PM UTC
J'ai vu Notre Dame brûler
comme si elle était une sorcière
sur un bûcher,
comme si elle était des balles
perçant le peau,
comme si elle était les mots de bigoterie
coulant de la bouche des monstres
J'ai vu Notre Dame brûler
et nos coeurs aussi
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 9:46 AM UTC
History was destroyed and made all at once today.
Notre Dame in bright, brilliant flames.
850 years of history, class trips, memories,
singed and gone.
Everything has it's time, I suppose.
But I had a friend who wanted to meet that building,
who wanted to soak in it's secrets and stories.
And now that dream is ashy and unattainable.
Spectacular spire, it fell.
And with it, our hearts.
Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 7:10 PM UTC
My body is made of flammable stone
a paradox in its own birth
a wooden crown atop
goddesses in dressing gowns
sleeping to the sound
of fire burning me to the ground.
I am swaying with the tears of my mother
hitting silently as they fall,
everything that made me special
also put me up in flames.
What a sight,
all this destruction
pillars of smoke around my teeth,
rosy cheeks as I’m lowered into the grave
because it is I
and I am one
with the great Notre Dame
Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 6:15 PM UTC
*
*
The Dame stands before me,
droplets of sorrow falling
from her eyes
A sad, vulnerable beauty...
But little did I know that she
was a delicate calamity
whose body is made from
screams of the howling
oceans
A false crown made from
a long dead sun
Eyes as cool and cold
and cunning as a viper
And a heart long since
barren
*
*
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 2:34 PM UTC
We have a peacock
Grand Azurite the third
Even his name a flame
He fans his blaze of shine
To ladies throughout his realm
Whether cat, dog,
Rooster, mare or hen
Or his sweet dame the same
He only wishes from all
A little bit of aloof admiration
Starts his day with a strut
Goes all day long looking
For a fawning long gaze
Ends every given long day
In mostly similar ways
He and his dame
Blissfully life spent thus far
Patiently eagerly waiting
For a brood of little ones
To teach to fan their flame
© 2017 Jim Davis
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 7:30 AM UTC
by— Josiah Israel
Twas oft the way in days of old,
When knight would battle brave and bold,
The damsels hand in hopes to hold,
Worth more then polished Stone, or Gold
For this is what a boy is told
When day is done and night is cold…
“One day my son, thy chance will come
Though courage oft may waver,
When lady waits, through sable gates
For thee brave lad, to save her!”
For when a dragon stole a maid,
Awaiting ransom duly paid,
Twas bravest knight, armor arrayed
With noble steed and burnished blade
Rode swiftly to the damsels aid…
“You have not birth of high degree
Yet be thou brave and fight,
For low in rank thy birth may be
Yet heart makes noble knight!”
And after facing beast and foe
The knight with maiden free would go
Away to fields in need of ***
For seeds ere winter need to grow
And none can reap who do not sow…
“Not all you do will win a prize
Of gold or silver bent,
So reap a harvest good in size
And be thee well content.”
And when the battle horn he hears
The knight must banish all his fears
And ride to war, with battle cheers
On maidens cheek alight her tears
Fearing death, she spends the years…
“To win renown in battle
Might also be your path,
May your enemies armor rattle
As they feel your righteous wrath!”
But after kings campaign is done
The knight to home will swiftly run
From dusk through night to rising sun
Till maiden sees her hero come
Heart moving swift, a beating drum
Her heart a prize which first he won!
“Home is best at warring's end
To be with those you cherish,
A place to rest, your wounds to mend
Where love will never perish”
Though all the kingdom knows his name
And minstrels spread the brave knights fame
His love for she, remains the same
And they live happily, Knight and Dame…
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 8:58 PM UTC
This
is so random,
but you are so
**** pretty!
iamthe_avatar ©2016
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 4:54 PM UTC
Johnny didn't know
who the dame was at
the bus stop, but she
caught his eye standing
there on her cellphone,
blue eyes, and night pink
top, and well endowed,
and ********* the keyboard,
she looked at him then
looked away, he was going
to smile, but she looked
away too quick, but she
looked ok, nice figure, and
not too tall or short, just
about his size, he wanted
to know her name, and maybe
fix a date, but the bus stop
was crowded, and other kept
getting his view of her,
then she moved along, and
she was out of his sight,
and some old codger was
there standing sniffing, then
he saw her again she was
texting someone on the
phone, her face frowning,
then she tucked the phone
in her jeans pocket, and
looked at the road, Johnny
studied her, took in her frame,
the way she stood, her hips
and thighs, and her blue eyes,
and imagined maybe she's
say, hey mister you want to
come sit by me and we can
chat and all that? but she didn't
she just looked at the road,
then the bus came along, and
she was on board before he got
there, and the driver said sorry
no more I'm full, and so drove
off, and the dame in the pink
top had gone, and so had his
dream dame, nice hips, thighs,
and blue eyes but no name.
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 3:18 AM UTC
Here you are again, O Dawn,
I've become Dame Washalot reborn,
Of suds, I am a champion
of expertise in washingdom,
What did we trade off for golden rings?
Is it still that biology-is- destiny thing?
Are all men such total duds?
Do you ever feel the need to suds?
Or am I queen of the rotten mongrels? Tough!
Now, I have to vacuum, **** it up!
Vacuum now, or wash later?
Why I am a procrastinator?
This multi-tasking womanly thing,
Are wedding rings washing bling?
Whinging is fun, but no one listens,
See this washing glow and glisten!
So, here you are again, O Dawn,
Here I am, Dame Washalot reborn!!
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 9:23 PM UTC
The phone rings and Max’s
Wife hands him the receiver.
Who is it? I don’t know I didn’t
Ask; some girl. Girl, eh? Yeah
Girl. Hope she ain’t some *****
You’re playing around with?
Course I ain’t; you think I’d do
That to you? Eh? How do I know
What you do while you’re out
Or who you might see. I don’t
See no one, at least not a dame
Or not a dame I’d play around
With. Well. Answer the ****
***** Max’s wife says walking
Into the kitchen and slamming
The door. Hello? Who? Oh, you.
Yes I am fine. You? Did you?
Right. He is huh? Well how do
You know it was me? When was
This? Oh, yeah, I remember. Good
Night. Keep your voice down or
The old lady’ll hear you through
The wall. How far are you? Three
Months. That night was it? Sure
I remember. You were the blonde
Dame with the short cut dress right?
Oh, you were the brunette? Oh,
Right yeah, of course you were.
The lights in that place are quite
Low and I had had a few drinks
And my memory isn’t what it was.
No I’m not trying to be funny.
What? No, you can’t speak to
The old lady. Leave her out of this.
How did you get my number anyway?
I gave it to you. Oh, right yes, sure.
Meet me on 42nd Street tomorrow
At around 2.30pm. Keep the voice
Down. We’ll speak then. Right. Yeah,
I’ll recognize you. The blonde. Oh,
Yeah, the brunette with the blue
Coat and dangly earrings. Ok. Yeah
Bye bye. Max puts down the phone
And sits in the lounge chair. Who
Was it? His wife asks coming into
The room. It was Joey’s fat ugly
Wife reminding me about the next
Race meeting and to bring along the
Billy Joel CD he lent me. You were
A long time. She stutters; takes her
A while to get words out. Sure it does;
You talk a load of junk and muck. She
Wants another date and a two bit ****
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 1:41 AM UTC
I brought scotch
to her flat
(Miss Pinkie)
late evening
no TV
but music
on her old
boxed hi-fi
Mahler's 1st
or his 5th
then she'd sit
next to me
on the couch
lights dimmed low
she made up
hair done nice
with a short
nightie on
and she'd say
now Benny
how about
you and me
getting down
this whiskey
a few chocs
then have some
real hot ***
We added
a few more
good whiskies
some dark chocs
more Mahler
then we'd walk
to her bed
(big double)
and strip off
and climb in
or fall in
a bright moon
shining in
from the sky
a train passed
on the track
quite nearby
Mahler played
the final
loud movement
as we made
our prelude
or foreplay
little games
before ***
then the ***
then lying
on our backs
as Mahler
was silent
and trains gone
faraway
and moon shone.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 3:01 AM UTC
There was this dame
at the checkout yesterday
Henry said
blonde hair greying
oval face
and black-framed glasses
and those kind of eyes
that pop out at you
in the dark
and?
I said
and she smiled
the kind of smile
that said I don't smile
that often these days
then what?
I said
then I smiled too
the kind of smile that said
I know what you mean
I don't much either
then what?
I said
then she packed her
purchases away in her bags
and paid the cashier
some young girl
with diaper marks
still on her ***
so?
I said
so she walked past me
giving that look that said
I get lonely at times
maybe pop around
and see me some time
and her *** kind of swayed
in these pale blue pants
and then what?
I said
I looked at her and said
give me a ring
on your lonely nights
how did she get your number?
I said
o
Henry said
I passed it to her
inside my lonely head.
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 2:22 AM UTC
la dame nature n'hésite pas
la dame nature ne prend pas de décisions
la dame nature n'a pas de maître
la dame nature n'a pas besoin d'émotions
la dame nature ne suit pas les règles
mais la dame nature est délicate et amiable
et je suis la dame nature
pour qu'elle devienne quelque chose d'autre
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 6:23 PM UTC
Quasimodo, ringer of the bells
Quasimodo, hidden in his hell
Watching from the bell tower as life is squandered daily
Nobody seems to understand the truth of human frailty
But there they chime again!
It's that time again!
You know Quasimodo's still alive
Because the Bells are right on time
In the shadows of Notre Dame
A monster stalks our halls
A giant, hulking, hungry mass
Searching for ****** girls
It's the truth, don't you believe it?
The beast is out there creeping
It's much easier to see
than the demons we all keep
Under lock and key
Inside you and me
Quasimodo, ringer of the bells
Quasimodo, hidden in his hell
Watching from the bell tower as life is squandered daily
Nobody seems to understand the truth of human frailty
But there they chime again!
It's that time again!
Quasimodo's still alive
Because the Bells are right on time
A monster forged in hate
was a man who died for love
and though he suffered the slings and arrows
of the cursed world he lived above
Quasimodo died
as Quasimodo lived
Believing that the gift of love
was the best gift we could give.
Quasimodo, ringer of the bells
Quasimodo, dying in this cell
Lying in the crypt with arms wrapped tight 'round his beloved
Embracing his dark angel as eternally as love is
But it's that time again!
Why don't they chime this time?
The Halls of Notre Dame are still
Quasimodo must have died...
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 8:43 PM UTC