Fair Helen
I wish I were where Helen lies;
Night and day on me she cries;
Oh that I were where Helen lies
On fair Kirconnell lea!
Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
And died to succour me!
O think na but my heart was sair
When my Love dropt down and spak nae mair!
I laid her down wi' meikle care
On fair Kirconnell lea.
As I went down the water-side,
None but my foe to be my guide,
None but my foe to be my guide,
On fair Kirconnell lea;
I lighted down my sword to draw,
I hackèd him in pieces sma',
I hackèd him in pieces sma',
For her sake that died for me.
O Helen fair, beyond compare,
I'll make a garland of thy hair
Shall bind my heart for evermair
Until the day I die.
Oh that I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,
Says, "Haste and come to me!"
O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!
If I were with thee I were blest,
Where thou lies low and takes thy rest
On fair Kirconnell lea.
I wish my grave were growing green,
A winding-sheet drawn ower my een,
And I in Helen's arms lyíng,
On fair Kirconnell lea.
I wish I were where Helen lies;
Night and day on me she cries;
And I am weary of the skies,
Since my Love died for me.
Related quotes
Fair Helen
I wish I were where Helen lies;
Night and day on me she cries;
Oh that I were where Helen lies
On fair Kirconnell lea!
Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
And died to succour me!
O think na but my heart was sair
When my Love dropt down and spak nae mair!
I laid her down wi' meikle care
On fair Kirconnell lea.
As I went down the water-side,
None but my foe to be my guide,
None but my foe to be my guide,
On fair Kirconnell lea;
I lighted down my sword to draw,
I hackèd him in pieces sma',
I hackèd him in pieces sma',
For her sake that died for me.
O Helen fair, beyond compare,
I'll make a garland of thy hair
Shall bind my heart for evermair
Until the day I die.
Oh that I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,
Says, "Haste and come to me!"
O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!
If I were with thee I were blest,
Where thou lies low and takes thy rest
On fair Kirconnell lea.
I wish my grave were growing green,
A winding-sheet drawn ower my een,
And I in Helen's arms lyíng,
On fair Kirconnell lea.
I wish I were where Helen lies;
Night and day on me she cries;
And I am weary of the skies,
Since my Love died for me.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Helen of Kirconnell
I WISH I were where Helen lies,
Night and day on me she cries;
O that I were where Helen lies,
On fair Kirconnell lea!
Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
And died to succour me!
O think na ye my heart was sair,
When my Love dropp'd and spak nae mair!
There did she swoon wi' meikle care,
On fair Kirconnell lea.
As I went down the water side,
None but my foe to be my guide,
None but my foe to be my guide,
On fair Kirconnell lea;
I lighted down my sword to draw,
I hacked him in pieces sma',
I hacked him in pieces sma',
For her sake that died for me.
O Helen fair, beyond compare!
I'll mak a garland o' thy hair,
Shall bind my heart for evermair,
Until the day I die!
O that I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,
Says, 'Haste, and come to me!'
O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!
If I were with thee, I'd be blest,
Where thou lies low and taks thy rest,
On fair Kirconnell lea.
I wish my grave were growing green,
A winding-sheet drawn owre my e'en,
And I in Helen's arms lying,
On fair Kirconnell lea.
I wish I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
And I am weary of the skies,
For her sake that died for me.
Quebec
-1908
Of old, like Helen, guerdon of the strong --
Like Helen fair, like Helen light of word, --
"The spoils unto the conquerors belong.
Who winneth me must win me by the sword."
Grown old, like Helen, once the jealous prize
That strong men battled for in savage hate,
Can she look forth with unregretful eyes,
Where sleep Montcalm and Wolfe beside her gate?
poem by John McCrae
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Hey Hey Helen
So at last youre free
Its the way you wanted it to be
And the price you pay
To become a woman of today
Is it worth the pain to see the children cry
Does it hurt when they ask for daddy
Hey hey helen
Now you live on your own
Hey hey helen
Can you make it alone
(yes you can)
So youre free at last
And beginning to forget the past
Does it make you sad
When you think about the life you ha-ha-had
But youre right, you had to take a second chance
So you fight to find your freedom
Hey hey helen
Now you live on your own
Hey hey helen
Can you make it alone
Hey hey helen (hey hey helen)
Whats the matter with you
Hey hey helen (hey hey helen)
Dont you know what to do
(yes you do)
(ahah, yes you do yes you do)
(ahah, yes you do yes you do)
Hey hey helen
Now you live on your own
Hey hey helen
Can you make it alone
Hey hey helen (hey hey helen)
Whats the matter with you
Hey hey helen (hey hey helen)
Dont you know what to do
Hey hey helen (hey hey helen)
Now you live on your own
Hey hey helen (hey hey helen)
(fade)
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young Traitor
Gran said
you can come with us
to the fair
Janice said
Provided your mum agrees
of course but Gran's
already asked your mum
so it's all right
you stood outside
the school gates
waiting for your mother
to come and pick you up
and so you said
Oh right that'll be good
but you didn't want Helen
to know you were going
to the fair with Janice
and even though
you hadn't planned it
or asked for it
you still felt guilty
about going
with Janice to the fair
and when Helen
came out of school
and stood waiting
next to you
for her mother
you hoped Janice
wouldn't say
anything about it
but Janice just stood there
smiling looking at Helen
as if to say he's going with me
to the fair and you're not
and Helen gazed at Janice
at the same time
putting her hand
near yours
and you could feel
her hand brush
against yours
and then she turned
and looked at you
through her
thick lens glasses
her eyes searching you
like a navigator
looking for a fresh route
to a new world
and Janice moved closer
on your other side
her hand seeking out
a finger to hold
and she said
Look here comes Gran
and she released
your finger and ran
and you stood with Helen
waiting
knowing her hand
was warm and feeling yours
and hoping she couldn't
read minds
or thoughts
or know about the fair
and she said suddenly
giving your hand a squeeze
Here's your mum and mine
let's go meet them
and off you ran
following behind
feeling a sense of betrayal
being a traitor to Helen
in your 7 year old mind.
poem by Terry Collett
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Helen All Alone
There was darkness under Heaven
For an hour's space--
Darkness that we knew was given
Us for special grace.
Sun and noon and stars were hid,
God had left His Throne,
When Helen came to me, she did,
Helen all alone!
Side by side (because our fate
Damned us ere our birth)
We stole out of Limbo Gate
Looking for the Earth.
Hand in pulling hand amid
Fear no dreams have known,
Helen ran with me, she did,
Helen all alone!
When the Horror passing speech
Hunted us along,
Each laid hold on each, and each
Found the other strong.
In the teeth of Things forbid
And Reason overthrown,
Helen stood by me, she did,
Helen all alone!
When, at last, we heard those Fires
Dull and die away,
When, at last, our linked desires
Dragged us up to day;
When, at last, our souls were rid
Of what that Night had shown,
Helen passed from me, she did,
Helen all alone!
Let her go and find a mate,
As I will find a bride,
Knowing naught of Limbo Gate
Or Who are penned inside.
There is knowledge God forbid
More than one should own.
So Helen went from me, she did,
Oh, my soul, be glad she did!
Helen all alone!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Helen
As I walked towards helens house
I was thinking of her, her long pretty black hair
Her beatiful shiny eyes, and above
All, her humane personality which
Has endeered me to her the most
Her life is an epitome of all I wanted
I think of her the most
And she is my only aspiration
I am now here, right here with Helen
I want to ask her what she did to me
I am loosing my mind, I am thinking of her and I can think of nothing else
What has she done to me?
I used to be very ambitious.
Now all my aspirations are being
Replaced by helen
All I want now is Helen and Helen
There is nothing on my mind but Helen
I want her by my side for the rest of my life.
poem by Efe Benjamin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Outside the Cinema.
After tea
you went out
into the summer evening
without cowboy hat
or rifle
but your six shooter
tucked in the belt
of your jeans
to meet Helen
under the railway bridge
next to the Duke of Wellington
public house
I thought you weren't coming
Helen said
standing in her summer dress
and holding her favourite doll
Battered Betty
my horse refused to come
so I had to walk
you said
Helen smiled
my mum knows I'm with you
but I mustn't be out late
Helen said
where shall we go?
you asked
let's go and see
what's on at the cinema
Helen said
so you both walked
along the back streets
until you came
onto the main road
and studied the cinema billboards
I saw Davy Crockett here
you said
who's he?
Helen asked
he was a frontiersman
who fought Indians
and wore a bearskin hat
you said
was he here?
Helen asked
it was a film
you replied
oh
she said
she swung Battered Betty
behind her back
from hand to hand
I haven't been
to the pictures recently
mum said we can't afford it
what about Saturday matinee?
you asked
you could come to that
it's for kids only
and it's fun
Helen brought Battered Betty
into her arms
I'm not sure
she said
I could asked your mum
you said
I'd take care of you
I've got my six shooter
Helen put her hand
in your hand
and said
ok she'd listen to you
Helen said
you felt her hand in yours
and hoped no boys
who knew you
saw this or
the following
small lips kiss.
poem by Terry Collett
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Growing Up Before Time
You stood outside
the ABC cinema
with Helen looking
at the framed photographs
of the stills
from the film
then showing
she clutching her doll
Battered Betty
you standing there
pointing out
the main characters
my old man said
he'd take me
to see this
on Saturday
you said
Helen rocked Betty
in her arms
I hope our child
doesn't call you
old man
she said
maybe he won't
you replied
it might be a she
Helen said
sure it might
you said
you gave Betty a look
as she hung there
in Helen's arms
you looked back
at the photo stills
putting your hands
in the pockets
of your jeans
maybe
you can take me
to the cinema
when we are older
Helen said
and we can sit
at the back
like those grown ups do
and kiss
you sensed her hand
touch your arm
and rub it up
and down
Betty moving
as Helen's arm moved
sure
you said
long as I can still see
the movie
Helen handed you Betty
and you took
your hands out
of your pockets
and held her gingerly
like she might go
crap on you
and Helen put
a hand in her pocket
and pulled out
a few coins
I might have enough
here for some fries
she said
ok
you replied
and you walked
beside Helen
along the New Kent Road
to the Neptune's fish shop
holding Battered Betty
carefully against
your cowboy shirt
the one your mother
bought you
for your birthday
the year before
Helen talked
of children's names
and you thought
of the Wild West
and cowboy games.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Fury Of Cooks
Herbs, garlic,
cheese, please let me in!
Souffles, salad,
Parker House rolls,
please let me in!
Cook Helen,
why are you so cross,
why is your kitchen verboten?
Couldn't you just teach me
to bake a potato,
to bake a potato,
that charm,
that young prince?
No! No!
This is my county!
You shout silently.
Couldn't you just show me
the gravy. How you drill it out
of the stomach of that bird?
Helen, Helen,
let me in,
let me feel the flour,
is it blinding and frightening,
this stuff that makes cakes?
Helen, Helen,
the kitchen is your dog
and you pat it
and love it
and keep it clean.
But all these things,
all these dishes of things
come through the swinging door
and I don't know from where?
Give me some tomato aspic, Helen!
I don't want to be alone.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Helen Wheels
Said farewell to my last hotel it never was much kind of abode
Glasgow town never brought me down when I was heading out on the road
Carlisle city never looked so pretty, and the kendal freeway is fast
Slow down driver, wanna stay alive, I wanna make this journey last
Helen (helen) hell on wheels
Aint nobody else gonna know the way she feels
Helen (helen) hell on wheels
And they never gonna take her away
M6 south down liverpool, where they play the west coast sound
Sailor sam, he came from birmingham, but he never will be found
Doin fine when a london sign, grees me like a long lost friend
Mister motor wont you check her out, shes gotta take me back again
Helen (helen) hell on wheels
Aint nobody else gonna know the way she feels
Helen (helen) hell on wheels
And they never gonna take her away
Got no time for a rum and lime, I wanna get my right foot down;
Shake some dust off of this old bus, I gotta get her out of town
Spend the day upon the motorway, where the carburettors blast;
Slow down driver, wanna stay alive, I wanna make this journey last
Helen (helen) hell on wheels
Aint nobody else gonna know the way she feels
Helen (helen) hell on wheels
And they never gonna take her away
Say bye-bye.....fade out
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The First Kiss
On Helen’s heart the day were night!
But I may not adventure there:
Here breast is guarded by a right,
And she is true as fair.
And though in happy days her eyes
The glow within mine own could please,
She’s purer than the babe who cries
For empire on her knees.
Her love is for her lord and child,
And unto them belongs her snow;
But none can rob me of her wild
Young kiss of long ago!
poem by Norman Rowland Gale
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Good Deed Done.
The old woman
was lying
on the path
from her
ground floor flat
along Harper Road
when you and Helen
walked by
on your way
from the shop
with your penny drinks
you both ran to her
and she said she'd fallen
so Helen
ran across
to the surgery
on the other side
of the road
while you knelt
by the woman
placing your
short sleeved pullover
under her head
you're a good boy
she said
but you'll have blood on it now
don't matter
you said
you stroked her head
and pushed
her grey hair
out of her white blue eyes
when Helen returned
with a doctor
he examined
the old woman
and said
he had called
an ambulance
Helen stood
next to you
her eyes tearful
her hand
touching yours
the woman said
thank you both
I don't know
what I'd have done
if you hadn't come along
it's the least we could do
Helen said
you waited
until the ambulance came
and took her away
and disappeared
off along Harper Road
look at your pullover
Helen said
it's got blood on it
don't matter
gives it colour
you replied
anyway Mum'll wash it out
she gazed at you
through her thick lens
her eyes awash
with tears
her small hand
still in yours
the path
from the old lady's flat
had a small stain
of dark red
where blood had seeped
where she'd laid her head
a bit like an abstract
pavement artist's work
you said
the white stone canvas
with that touch of red.
poem by Terry Collett
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Consider
Consider
The lilies of the field whose bloom is brief:—
We are as they;
Like them we fade away,
As doth a leaf.
Consider
The sparrows of the air of small account:
Our God doth view
Whether they fall or mount,—
He guards us too.
Consider
The lilies that do neither spin nor toil,
Yet are most fair:—
What profits all this care
And all this coil?
Consider
The birds that have no barn nor harvest-weeks;
God gives them food:—
Much more our Father seeks
To do us good.
Helen Grey
Because one loves you, Helen Grey,
Is that a reason you should pout,
And like a March wind veer about,
And frown, and say your shrewish say?
Don't strain the cord until it snaps,
Don't split the sound heart with your wedge,
Don't cut your fingers with the edge
Of your keen wit; you may, perhaps.
Because you're handsome, Helen Grey,
Is that a reason to be proud?
Your eyes are bold, your laugh is loud,
Your steps go mincing on their way;
But so you miss that modest charm
Which is the surest charm of all:
Take heed, you yet may trip and fall,
And no man care to stretch his arm.
Stoop from your cold height, Helen Grey,
Come down, and take a lowlier place;
Come down, to fill it now with grace;
Come down you must perforce some day:
For years cannot be kept at bay,
And fading years will make you old;
Then in their turn will men seem cold,
When you yourself are nipped and grey.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Sister Helen
"Why did you melt your waxen man
Sister Helen?
To-day is the third since you began."
"The time was long, yet the time ran,
Little brother."
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Three days to-day, between Hell and Heaven!)
"But if you have done your work aright,
Sister Helen,
You'll let me play, for you said I might."
"Be very still in your play to-night,
Little brother."
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Third night, to-night, between Hell and Heaven!)
"You said it must melt ere vesper-bell,
Sister Helen;
If now it be molten, all is well."
"Even so,--nay, peace! you cannot tell,
Little brother."
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
O what is this, between Hell and Heaven?)
"Oh the waxen knave was plump to-day,
Sister Helen;
How like dead folk he has dropp'd away!"
"Nay now, of the dead what can you say,
Little brother?"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
What of the dead, between Hell and Heaven?)
"See, see, the sunken pile of wood,
Sister Helen,
Shines through the thinn'd wax red as blood!"
"Nay now, when look'd you yet on blood,
Little brother?"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
How pale she is, between Hell and Heaven!)
"Now close your eyes, for they're sick and sore,
Sister Helen,
And I'll play without the gallery door."
"Aye, let me rest,--I'll lie on the floor,
Little brother."
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
What rest to-night, between Hell and Heaven?)
"Here high up in the balcony,
Sister Helen,
The moon flies face to face with me."
"Aye, look and say whatever you see,
Little brother."
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
What sight to-night, between Hell and Heaven?)
"Outside it's merry in the wind's wake,
Sister Helen;
In the shaken trees the chill stars shake."
"Hush, heard you a horse-tread as you spake,
Little brother?"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
What sound to-night, between Hell and Heaven?)
"I hear a horse-tread, and I see,
Sister Helen,
Three horsemen that ride terribly."
"Little brother, whence come the three,
Little brother?"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Whence should they come, between Hell and Heaven?)
"They come by the hill-verge from Boyne Bar,
Sister Helen,
And one draws nigh, but two are afar."
"Look, look, do you know them who they are,
Little brother?"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Who should they be, between Hell and Heaven?)
"Oh, it's Keith of Eastholm rides so fast,
Sister Helen,
For I know the white mane on the blast."
"The hour has come, has come at last,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Her hour at last, between Hell and Heaven!)
"He has made a sign and called Halloo!
Sister Helen,
And he says that he would speak with you."
"Oh tell him I fear the frozen dew,
Little brother."
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Why laughs she thus, between Hell and Heaven?)
"The wind is loud, but I hear him cry,
Sister Helen,
That Keith of Ewern's like to die."
"And he and thou, and thou and I,
Little brother."
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
And they and we, between Hell and Heaven!)
"Three days ago, on his marriage-morn,
Sister Helen,
He sicken'd, and lies since then forlorn."
"For bridegroom's side is the bride a thorn,
Little brother?"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Cold bridal cheer, between Hell and Heaven!)
"Three days and nights he has lain abed,
Sister Helen,
And he prays in torment to be dead."
"The thing may chance, if he have pray'd,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
If he have pray'd, between Hell and Heaven!)
"But he has not ceas'd to cry to-day,
Sister Helen,
That you should take your curse away."
"My prayer was heard,--he need but pray,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Shall God not hear, between Hell and Heaven?)
"But he says, till you take back your ban,
Sister Helen,
His soul would pass, yet never can."
"Nay then, shall I slay a living man,
Little brother?"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
A living soul, between Hell and Heaven!)
"But he calls for ever on your name,
Sister Helen,
And says that he melts before a flame."
"My heart for his pleasure far'd the same,
Little brother."
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Fire at the heart, between Hell and Heaven!)
"Here's Keith of Westholm riding fast,
Sister Helen,
For I know the white plume on the blast."
"The hour, the sweet hour I forecast,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Is the hour sweet, between Hell and Heaven?)
"He stops to speak, and he stills his horse,
Sister Helen;
But his words are drown'd in the wind's course."
"Nay hear, nay hear, you must hear perforce,
Little brother!" .
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
What word now heard, between Hell and Heaven?)
"Oh he says that Keith of Ewern's cry,
Sister Helen,
Is ever to see you ere he die."
"In all that his soul sees, there am I
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
The soul's one sight, between Hell and Heaven!)
"He sends a ring and a broken coin,
Sister Helen,
And bids you mind the banks of Boyne."
"What else he broke will he ever join,
Little brother?"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
No, never join'd, between Hell and Heaven!)
"He yields you these and craves full fain,
Sister Helen,
You pardon him in his mortal pain."
"What else he took will he give again,
Little brother?"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Not twice to give, between Hell and Heaven!)
"He calls your name in an agony,
Sister Helen,
That even dead Love must weep to see."
"Hate, born of Love, is blind as he,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Love turn'd to hate, between Hell and Heaven!)
"Oh it's Keith of Keith now that rides fast,
Sister Helen,
For I know the white hair on the blast."
"The short short hour will soon be past,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Will soon be past, between Hell and Heaven!)
"He looks at me and he tries to speak,
Sister Helen,
But oh! his voice is sad and weak!"
"What here should the mighty Baron seek,
Little brother?"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Is this the end, between Hell and Heaven?)
"Oh his son still cries, if you forgive,
Sister Helen,
The body dies but the soul shall live."
"Fire shall forgive me as I forgive,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
As she forgives, between Hell and Heaven!)
"Oh he prays you, as his heart would rive,
Sister Helen,
To save his dear son's soul alive."
"Fire cannot slay it, it shall thrive,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Alas, alas, between Hell and Heaven!)
"He cries to you, kneeling in the road,
Sister Helen,
To go with him for the love of God!"
"The way is long to his son's abode,
Little brother."
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
The way is long, between Hell and Heaven!)
"A lady's here, by a dark steed brought,
Sister Helen,
So darkly clad, I saw her not."
"See her now or never see aught,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
What more to see, between Hell and Heaven?)
"Her hood falls back, and the moon shines fair,
Sister Helen,
On the Lady of Ewern's golden hair."
"Blest hour of my power and her despair,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Hour blest and bann'd, between Hell and Heaven!)
"Pale, pale her cheeks, that in pride did glow,
Sister Helen,
'Neath the bridal-wreath three days ago."
"One morn for pride and three days for woe,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Three days, three nights, between Hell and Heaven!)
"Her clasp'd hands stretch from her bending head,
Sister Helen;
With the loud wind's wail her sobs are wed."
"What wedding-strains hath her bridal-bed,
Little brother?"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
What strain but death's, between Hell and Heaven?)
"She may not speak, she sinks in a swoon,
Sister Helen,--
She lifts her lips and gasps on the moon."
"Oh! might I but hear her soul's blithe tune,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Her woe's dumb cry, between Hell and Heaven!)
"They've caught her to Westholm's saddle-bow,
Sister Helen,
And her moonlit hair gleams white in its flow."
"Let it turn whiter than winter snow,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Woe-wither'd gold, between Hell and Heaven!)
"O Sister Helen, you heard the bell,
Sister Helen!
More loud than the vesper-chime it fell."
"No vesper-chime, but a dying knell,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
His dying knell, between Hell and Heaven!)
"Alas! but I fear the heavy sound,
Sister Helen;
Is it in the sky or in the ground?"
"Say, have they turn'd their horses round,
Little brother?"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
What would she more, between Hell and Heaven?)
"They have rais'd the old man from his knee,
Sister Helen,
And they ride in silence hastily."
"More fast the naked soul doth flee,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
The naked soul, between Hell and Heaven!)
"Flank to flank are the three steeds gone,
Sister Helen,
But the lady's dark steed goes alone."
"And lonely her bridegroom's soul hath flown,
Little brother."
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
The lonely ghost, between Hell and Heaven!)
"Oh the wind is sad in the iron chill,
Sister Helen,
And weary sad they look by the hill."
"But he and I are sadder still,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Most sad of all, between Hell and Heaven!)
"See, see, the wax has dropp'd from its place,
Sister Helen,
And the flames are winning up apace!"
"Yet here they burn but for a space,
Little brother! "
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Here for a space, between Hell and Heaven!)
"Ah! what white thing at the door has cross'd,
Sister Helen?
Ah! what is this that sighs in the frost?"
"A soul that's lost as mine is lost,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Lost, lost, all lost, between Hell and Heaven!)
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flick-Knife Incident
After the argument
'Helen said'. 'Granny said'.
'Paul said'. 'Granny said'.
'Larry asked'.
Granny,
Who is Mrs Devereux,
Pulled out a flick-knife.
'! ', 'Helen said'.
'Helen asked'. Granny (lengthily replied) .
'Helen asked'. Granny (abruptly replied) .
'Helen asked'. 'Her grandmother said'.
'Larry said'. 'Paul said'.
'Larry asked', 'Does Declan know? '
'Granny said'.
'Larry said', 'I must go and tell.'
Lily 'addressed Paul'.
'Larry said'. 'Mrs Devereux said'. 'Paul said'.
'Lily said', 'Declan's getting sick...'
'Paul asked'. 'Helen said'. 'Paul said'.
Enough said.
poem by Douglas Scotney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At Helen's for Tea.
After school
Helen's mother took you home to tea
and she was wheeling
the big pram along the pavement
with you on one side
and Helen on the other
and she said
hold onto the pram
while we cross the roads
I don't want anything
to happen to you
and as you crossed
the busy roads
you kept glancing over
at Helen with her plaited hair
parted in the middle
and her thin wired glasses
and her raincoat
buttoned tight
against the wind
and her small hand
clutching the pram handle tightly
and beside you
Helen's mother
short and stocky
pushing and puffing
and her eyes dark as night
and kind at the same time
and when you reached their home
and went inside
and she took off your coat
you went with Helen
into the sitting room
with a coal fire blazing
and the smell
of drying clothes
and past dinners
and Helen said
do you want to see my dolls
and the doll's house
my daddy made
out of boxwood
with lights you can turn off and on?
sure ok
you said
and you followed her
into her bedroom
where her toys and dolls
were laid up along the wall
next to her bed
and she took up a doll
and held her out to you
and said
this is my favourite
this is Jenny
and you said
hi Jenny how you doing?
and Helen smiled
her slightly goofy smile
and you liked that
her smile
and her eyes large as duck eggs
behind the thick lens
and she handed the doll
to you to hold
and you held the doll
and kissed the head
and hugged it close
thinking glad the other boys
can't see me now
here with this girl
and kissing and holding
the darn doll
out of some small boy love
and shyness
and you know
they'd laugh out loud
and point their tough boy fingers
and you're glad
they aren't there
just Helen
and her little girl love and kindness
against their rough ways
and small boy toughness.
poem by Terry Collett
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Homer Is More Fortunate
To read about Helen’s beauty,
To see one act as Helen
Cannot give as much passion
As one you get when you write of her.
(28.06.2004)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Reverse Is The Case
I shall make thee my Romeo and shall be thy Juliet
And nothing like Paris shall come in ‘twixt us this time
I will destroy thousands of young men named Paris
And unite both houses of Montague and Capulet with love
Then will have William Shakespeare write a play called 'reverse is the case'
Therefore thou shall be my Helen and I shall be thy Paris
For there will be no Agamemnon come between us amore
And I shall destroy thousands of Menelaus with Hector's sword
Wherefore will have Homer's epic Iliad altered for once
I shall be more fairer than fair Helen when she lived
Whose admired worth made Greece with ten years of wars afflict poor Troy
And shall launch ten thousands of admiration and love
With which ten thousand years men shall serve thee for thy daughters' sake
Then will have Hera and Athena themselves withdraw like the stars ashamed in
comparisonwith You, my Aphrodisiac beauty.
poem by Lightcheerful Briggs
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Menelaus and Helen
I
Hot through Troy's ruin Menelaus broke
To Priam's palace, sword in hand, to sate
On that adulterous whore a ten years' hate
And a king's honour. Through red death, and smoke,
And cries, and then by quieter ways he strode,
Till the still innermost chamber fronted him.
He swung his sword, and crashed into the dim
Luxurious bower, flaming like a god.
High sat white Helen, lonely and serene.
He had not remembered that she was so fair,
And that her neck curved down in such a way;
And he felt tired. He flung the sword away,
And kissed her feet, and knelt before her there,
The perfect Knight before the perfect Queen.
II
So far the poet. How should he behold
That journey home, the long connubial years?
He does not tell you how white Helen bears
Child on legitimate child, becomes a scold,
Haggard with virtue. Menelaus bold
Waxed garrulous, and sacked a hundred Troys
'Twixt noon and supper. And her golden voice
Got shrill as he grew deafer. And both were old.
Often he wonders why on earth he went
Troyward, or why poor Paris ever came.
Oft she weeps, gummy-eyed and impotent;
Her dry shanks twitch at Paris' mumbled name.
So Menelaus nagged; and Helen cried;
And Paris slept on by Scamander side.
poem by Rupert Brooke
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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