"gaby" poems
THERE is a queen in China, or maybe it's in Spain,
And birthdays and holidays such praises can be heard
Of her unblemished lineaments, a whiteness with no
stain,
That she might be that sprightly girl trodden by a
bird;
And there's a score of duchesses, surpassing woma-
kind,
Or who have found a painter to make them so for pay
And smooth out stain and blemish with the elegance
of his mind:
I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their
day.
The young men every night applaud their Gaby's
laughing eye,
And Ruth St. Denis had more charm although she had
poor luck;
From nineteen hundred nine or ten, Pavlova's had the
cry
And there's a player in the States who gathers up her
cloak
And flings herself out of the room when Juliet would
be bride
With all a woman's passion, a child's imperious way,
And there are -- but no matter if there are scores beside:
I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their
day.
There's Margaret and Marjorie and Dorothy and Nan,
A Daphne and a Mary who live in privacy;
One's had her fill of lovers, another's had but one,
Another boasts, "I pick and choose and have but two
or three.'
If head and limb have beauty and the instep's high and
light
They can spread out what sail they please for all I have
to say,
Be but the breakers of men's hearts or engines of
delight:
I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their
day.
There'll be that crowd, that barbarous crowd, through
all the centuries,
And who can say but some young belle may walk and
talk men wild
Who is my beauty's equal, though that my heart denies,
But not the exact likeness, the simplicity of a child,
And that proud look as though she had gazed into the
burning sun,
And all the shapely body no tittle gone astray.
I mourn for that most lonely thing; and yet God's will
be done:
I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their
day.
3.9k
People live forever in Jacksonville and St. Petersburg and Tampa,
But you don't have to live forever to become a grampa.
The entrance requirements for grampahood are comparatively mild,
You only have to live until your child has a child.
From that point on you start looking both ways over your shoulder,
Because sometimes you feel thirty years younger and sometimes
thirty years older.
Now you begin to realize who it was that reached the height of
imbecility,
It was whoever said that grandparents have all the fun and none of
the responsibility.
This is the most enticing spiderwebs of a tarradiddle ever spun,
Because everybody would love to have a baby around who was no
responsibility and lots of fun,
But I can think of no one but a mooncalf or a gaby
Who would trust their own child to raise a baby.
So you have to personally superintend your grandchild from diapers
to pants and from bottle to spoon,
Because you know that your own child hasn't sense enough to come
in out of a typhoon.
You don't have to live forever to become a grampa, but if you do
want to live forever,
Don't try to be clever;
If you wish to reach the end of the trail with an uncut throat,
Don't go around saying Quote I don't mind being a grampa but I
hate being married to a gramma Unquote.
2.8k
It’s like I’ve known you for twenty years
We have gazed the same stars and wandered the same paths
It was shape of your heart I was studying in my textbooks
all the gifts I have given leading me to gifting you myself
all the mistakes I have made showing me you are the one I do not want to mistake
mistake for a fling
mistake for a piece of my heart I could just let go
because we are so young and my heart is as old as this dirt beneath our shoes.
Your lips are the film reel that plays inside my head
I am distracted from this life,
from every eighteen year old telling me I’ll never make it
as they drive away in a brand new car,
Drive away. I know how you already crashed two others and your Daddy keeps buying more.
Will you ever learn the value of your privilege?
And will we ever learn the value of infatuation?
How could you ignore the perfection in someone’s infatuation?
That’s passion.
Have you ever worked so hard your own body betrayed you?
I stood forty hours a week
and the muscle in my back started biting at my insides
screaming and trying to tell me that it wasn’t worth it,
but I was driven by my passion and forty hours was worth the best four months of my life
Without that your presence would never have graced me
And this is passion.
Girl, there is a frenzy in my heart for you
and all that you do.
Because that night the moon lit up your face in loveliest way
and I saw every inch of you shine,
Gaby, you have the sun inside you and that is all I see
you are so beautiful it melted my wax heart
I carved it so well it even fooled me
and you saw right through to the imperfection
but kept going
and that part of you is so powerful
I know that no darkness could ever stop you.
I want to be there while you shine
I want to see you stride
right into my dorm room and
hold the flowers that I grew for you
eat the food that I have made for you
watch the L word
and take walks in the freezing snow with you
spend one more night on a pile of chopped up wood
And right now I carry you with me
you cling to the heart that I have placed on my sleeve
and I have trusted you to stay there
Stay, oh god, please stay
I need complications like I need a test to prove my intelligence
But I want you here to write a story with me in sync with our heartbeats
Cause since the moment your lips left mine I’ve been counting the seconds in time with your pulse.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 7:02 PM UTC
my name is gabriela
but most days
i don’t fit in these eight letters
some days
my name is poetry
my name is flower
my name is wild curls
my name is i am so filled with joy
that if i were a cloud it would rain for years
and some days
my name is sadness
my name is hello, love, come find me because i am tired of looking for you
my name is ocean
my name is feelings i have no words for
my name is the songs that make me cry
my name is when do i get a turn
but most days
my name is gaby
my name is the sweetness of these four letters
my name is honey and cinnamon and coffee
my name is gabriela
Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 7:17 PM UTC
Hey you, heart
I notice that different beat
“Yeah, are you scared”
I am, but it feels great
“It’s ok, I got you”
Ok, I’m all in
Hey gaby! (flaking) Could I,
Get some barbecue sauce
“Smooth”
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 5:04 PM UTC
when you least expect;
loveliness, pure,
sweeps all else aside
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 5:18 PM UTC
Time grew old and as did we,
Our love grew stronger as we grew weak.
Hand in Hand , forever we stayed,
Oh how oh how I miss those days.
But now your gone,
There is nothing I can do.
Oh how I miss your sweet sugared laugh,
Your warm welcoming scent.
I pray to you - look down on me,
As I take my last breath.
I want to be with you,
There is only one way.
Our lives together,
Through night and day.
We have time, now that I have left
I pray for us - as I draw my last breath.
Gaby Wilcox , 15
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 3:41 PM UTC
It kicks off tonight, super excited.
All of the wives are clearly delighted.
First game of the season Arsenal vs Leicester, for 90 minutes the heroes will battle.
The first three point to the winner and top of the table.
And so it will go every weekend from Friday to Monday right through to next May.
We'll be accompanied on Saturdays with MOTD, Gary, Alan and Gaby.
They'll discuss and advise on the game of the day, was the ref right did he give the game away.
Of course everyone has their favourite team, Man Utd, Arsenal and Chelsea. Man City, Liverpool, Everton to name but a few, West Ham and West Bromwich Albion too.
Bets will be made, dream teams created, limbs tattooed, all appetites sated.
Old heroes bemoaned and overrated, records broken new heroes created.
At the end of the season about the 19th May Champions crowned, memories filed, holidays booked, we can all breathe a while.
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 3:59 PM UTC
Winters crushing silence, Lacoste’s new dawn
Art all consuming through empathic suave
And evocative frontiers
Lacoste in love with crafts enlightened beacon
Irregular lines devolve from medieval skeletal relics
Trompe-l'œil beggars ones belief
Windows framed empty
The eye drawn to its historical tone
A sweeping brush strokes the virginal canvas
Golden colours materialise within ones conceptional dream
A spatial aura now raked on pastoral hues
Sparten skies embodies synonymous revelations
Roberts chiselled forms soar out of soft stones erosion
Grains becomes a wash with the cream of gold
Flowers lay wanton to the stony mural
Echoing within each cranial abyss
Ambience sings to the wavering hand
Sprouting wings on the back of birds in song
Luberon’s wide shoulders cradles a fire from Martha's bellows
Beguiling the light illuminates each hillside easel
Materials cut from the heart of Cécile
Mounted on heady heights
Engages empowerment in nuptial bonding
Transitioning to unearth the wearer
Gaby finds his source in prehistory
Rumbling tractors stitching together the whispering landscape
Everts clay forms upon the Noahs ark prepare for the coming art uprising
Compatriote born of the land, immortalised in clay
Hérold crystallized forms evoke surreal echoes
Playing the open gambit of Le Sade agape
Empowering the village through their art
Artists of Lacoste forge an oeuvreal village from the jagged walls
Artsploitation a road to ones soul
Artspronouciation reaching the road
Art a levelling climate settles the crowd
Amity conjuring future artisan fingers
The nesting atelier
Fledglings prepare to dip a toe
Stretching wings in mind, body and soul
Freeing spirits of old
Jun 21, 2023
Jun 21, 2023 at 6:36 AM UTC