Half the world does not know the joys of wearing cotton underwear. (promoting US exports, as quoted in Time)

quote by Phil Gramm
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The Moon Is.......

A Poem by my Great Niece, Kitty Cotton aged 12 years.

The Moon is a pearl;
sat in the night sky.
Precious and beautiful,
it shall never die.

The Moon is a ball of silk,
dancing with the stars.
Floating elegantly in the darkness,
it won’t ever be behind bars.

The Moon is a torch,
lightening the night,
to help us find our way,
and just hanging in the sky,
smiling down on me.

© Kitty Cotton

[...] Read more

poem by Ernestine Northover
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World's Woes - Child’s Play

Travelling by means of an affordable magazine
from Demi Moore, open marriage to Kutcher who
had to make his babies elsewhere and thus lost
the delight of his broad-minded wife who meant
freedom to breed is only her prerogative

To Designer Coffins for glorious burial, a son beating
cancer just to be killed by a wild group of teenagers
at night, an Indonesian man ravaged by a mystery
tumour disease, a Limo truck with a 14 million rand
bathtub – into the jaws of a Crocodile lurking

In Russia where would-be suicidees, despondent
because they have so much less than Demi Moore
cannot grow skeleton-slim because their husband
cottoned-on to the meaning of open relationship,
desperate because they cannot afford

Designer Coffins or take a ride in a Limo truck; did
not get cancer or were killed at night by belligerent

[...] Read more

poem by Margaret Alice Second
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I still sweat. My guts are still grinding out there. Sometimes I have enough cotton in my mouth to knit a sweater.

quote by Lee Trevino
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We do not rejoice in victories. We rejoice when a new kind of cotton is grown and when strawberries bloom in Israel.

quote by Golda Meir
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Unhappy Endings....

softer as 100% cotton
scented pillow case
Chanel 5 your fave
cooler as Iceland
whispers of glaciers
changing courses.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Joy Of Seasons

At an informal get together,
When you find yourself
In the midst of strangers,
You invariably talk about the weather.

Oh yes, Delhi has extremes,
In unison all exclaim.
We are forever trying to acclimatise
It’s just too much, they proclaim.

Well I won’t live anywhere but in the plains of north,
Nature’s bounty all the year round.
Mangoes, juicy melons and amrood,
Keenu, raspberries and shehtoot,
Tickle the taste buds with their distinct flavour,
And the variety in colours and flowers,
I find too enchanting for words.

Cool chiffons, crisp cottons, and sensuous silks,
Help me reinvent a new me every few weeks.

[...] Read more

poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Dance Time In Texas

Its dance time in texas and were striking up the band
Lets go honky tonkin honey take my hand
Its dance time in texas where the wine and music flows
Well do that texas two step and that old cotton eyed joe
Ill take you honky tonkin in my old pick up truck
Its dance time in texas and the music lifts you up
Its dance time in texas and were striking up the band
Well go honky tonkinhoney take my hand
Its dance time in texas where the wine and music flows
Well do that texas two step and that old cotton eyed joe
Now its time for a slow dance and were waltzing oh so close
Its dance time in texas and your the one I love the most
Its dance time in texas and were strinking up the band
Well go honky tonkin honey take my hand
Its dance time in texas where the wine and music flows
Well do that texas two step and that old cotton eyed joe

song performed by George Strait
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A Good Sleep

the linens are cool grasses
the air as breezy as the sea
the room gives the ambiance of
silence resting on soft cotton pillow

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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And you prate of the wealth of nations, as if it were bought and sold, The wealth of nations is men, not silk and cotton and gold.

quote by Richard Hovey
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Old Town Types No. 23 - Little Miss Mix

In a rather tiny building at the bottom of the street,
With a green door and a window small and very neat,
With its shock of beads and button-cards, cottons, bones and braid,
Miss Mix, the village dressmaker, plied a modest trade.
The front shop, with its counter, was a miniature affair,
And trivial the business that was conducted there.
But the back room - the workroom - 'Hours from Nine to Six' -
Was a vestal shrine whose priestess was little Miss Mix.

Tho' man had never gazed within, the sanctum held, 'twas known,
A wealth of female mysteries, for female eyes alone:
Dress-dummies, skirt-stands, a host of fashion fads,
Hip improvers, buckram shapes, curious bustle-pads.
But Mr Mole, who owned a store, and sold things ready-made,
Was oft-times strangely bitter over Miss Mix and her trade.
'A tittle-tattle factory!' said he. 'A gossip-shop!
With its babbling cotton-biters. Why, the thing had ought to stop.'

And many another male declared that Mr Mole was right -=
Chiefly husbands - for the charges of Miss Mix were never light.

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Mirror

Poem by my Great Niece - Kitty Cotton aged 12 years.

I was on the beach the other day,
and I found a mirror.
Not a scratch, did it have.
Not a reflection, was to be seen.
But a picture covered the glass,
a picture of the sea, blue and bare.

What to do with this magical mirror, I thought,
Give it back to the sea?
A gift for a Mother of mine?
Or a ‘Something’ for me?

I will give it back to the sea,
To sit amongst the dancing waters,
this moment will stay with me.

© Kitty Cotton

[...] Read more

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Mirror

Poem by my Great Niece - Kitty Cotton aged 12 years.

I was on the beach the other day,
and I found a mirror.
Not a scratch, did it have.
Not a reflection, was to be seen.
But a picture covered the glass,
a picture of the sea, blue and bare.

What to do with this magical mirror, I thought,
Give it back to the sea?
A gift for a Mother of mine?
Or a ‘Something’ for me?

I will give it back to the sea,
To sit amongst the dancing waters,
this moment will stay with me.

© Kitty Cotton

[...] Read more

poem by Ernestine Northover
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I wish they'd had electric guitars in cotton fields back in the good old days. A whole lot of things would've been straightened out.

quote by Jimi Hendrix
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Everybody that you could name would join in our audiences from, Laguardia on down. Everybody came. Everybody came to the Cotton Club.

quote by Cab Calloway
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Willie & Laura Mae Jones

(tony joe white)
Willie & laura mae jones
Were our neighbours a long time back
They lived right down the road from us
In a shack just like our shack
The people worked the land together
And we learned to count on each other
When you live off the land
You dont have the time to think about another mans colour
The cotton was high and the corn was growing fine
But that was another place and another time
Sit out on the front porch
In the evening when the sun went down
Willie would play and the kids would sing
And everybody would mess around
Daddyd bring out his guitar
And play on through the night
Every now and then ol willie would grin and say
Hey, you play all right
Made me feel so good

[...] Read more

song performed by Dusty Springfield
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The Queen of Silence on Valentine's Night

Queen of silence
draped in her own luminous sunshine
Ignores the cold cotton clouds
floating ghostly by,
Pushed by the infinite working breeze,
God’s essential oil of presence.
The ‘Whoo Whoo’ of the night owl frames the moment,
Now trimmed in her candescent skin
Conveys a tool for the boffin’s syzygy.
Moonbeams Strike,
As lovers caress down lanes of love,
Moonstruck, Embracing,
On this Valentine's night.

The Queen hides behind her cotton veil,
Her destiny achieved,
Full moon Fulfilled
For lovers thrilled

poem by Ken e Hall
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The Door Between Two Worlds

this the door between our two worlds
it divides the inside and the outside
the light and the darkness
the choice is yours

there is no lock
there is only the hinge that holds the door to its place
when you open it
there is no sound
and when you close it
there is only this silence of the air sealed inside our minds

my heart does not sing inside
it is muted by the darkness that moment your gentle hands
close the door

it is patient, the mind

the incompatibilities of the things outside us
are too inviting

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The spun one is not the cotton.

What I speak and write
From what I heard and stored
And from what I read and stored.
Are like the spun one from the cotton
05.07.2003

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Uncle Jim's Baptist Revival Hymn

By Sidney and Clifford Lanier.

[Not long ago a certain Georgia cotton-planter, driven to desperation
by awaking each morning to find that the grass had
quite outgrown the cotton overnight, and was likely to choke it,
in defiance of his lazy freedmen's hoes and ploughs,
set the whole State in a laugh by exclaiming to a group of fellow-sufferers:
"It's all stuff about Cincinnatus leaving the plough to go into politics
FOR PATRIOTISM; he was just a-runnin' from grass!"

This state of things -- when the delicate young rootlets of the cotton
are struggling against the hardier multitudes of the grass-suckers --
is universally described in plantation parlance by the phrase "in the grass";
and Uncle Jim appears to have found in it so much similarity
to the condition of his own ("Baptis'") church, overrun, as it was,
by the cares of this world, that he has embodied it in the refrain
of a revival hymn such as the colored improvisator of the South
not infrequently constructs from his daily surroundings.
He has drawn all the ideas of his stanzas from the early morning phenomena of
those critical weeks when the loud plantation-horn is blown before daylight,

[...] Read more

poem by Sidney Lanier
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