The Mountains On Fire (Fun Poem 94)
Many years ago, my wife and I
went to Scotland and stayed in a holiday chalet.
Behind it stood a mountain
and you had to crane your neck to see the top.
One day my wife awoke
and looked out the window and panic gripped her.
“The mountains on fire! ” She shouted,
loud enough to wake the dead.
I got up and looked out the window.
“Oh Yea.” I said and went back to bed.
“What are we going to do about it? ” She asked.
“What are we going to do? ”
“Come back to bed.” I said.
“When the mist clears you will see the mountain is Ok.”
5 February 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Panic In Detroit
Ah oooh
He looked a lot like che guevara, drove a diesel van
Kept his gun in quiet seclusion, such a humble man
The only survivor of the national peoples gang
Panic in detroit, I asked for an autograph
He wanted to stay home, I wish someone would phone
Panic in detroit (oh oh oh aahh, oh oh oh aahh)
He laughed at accidental sirens that broke the evening gloom
The police had warned of repercussions
They followed none too soon
A trickle of strangers were all that were left alive
Panic in detroit, I asked for an autograph
He wanted to stay home, I wish someone would phone
Panic in detroit (oh oh oh aahh, ah ah ah aahh)
Putting on some clothes I made my way to school
(oh oh oh)
And I found my teacher crouching in his overalls
I screamed and ran to smash my favourite slot machine (oh oh oh)
And jumped the silent cars that slept at traffic lights
Having scored a trillion dollars, made a run back home
Found him slumped across the table. a gun and me alone
I ran to the window. looked for a plane or two
Panic in detroit. hed left me an autograph
Let me collect dust. I wish someone would phone
Panic in detroit
Panic in detroit
Panic in detroit
Aoo
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Max Wanted
What do you want from me?
Max's wife said
and he looked by her
at the waitress
at the cafe
who was walking
with some order
behind his wife's back
and he noticed
the cute ass as she moved
the way she swayed
and the hands
holding the tray
huh? What is it
you want from me?
his wife repeated
her eyes peering at him
taking in
that aspect of him
as he turned his head
look said Max
following the waitress
to the table across the way
his eyes slowly
undressing her
his mind making up scenes
like in some movie
you say come on Honey
let's go out for a meal
and talk
and what are you doing
looking elsewhere
and not talking
his wife said
spittle on her lower lip
Max looked back
at his wife and said
oh yes sure
I was thinking
of the Picasso print
we saw the other day
you know that one
we both liked
and you said you'd like it
for your birthday
well maybe
I ought to get it
what do you think?
And the waitress
looked over at Max
as she went by
and he saw
a whole new ball game
in her eyes
and caught the cheek
and ear
and was sure
he captured some aspect
of her perfume
and his wife said
Picasso?
That Picasso?
are you sure Max?
and she went into a daze
and smiled
and Max imagined himself
and the waitress
and sex games
and a party
going wild.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Matilda Said
Matilda closed the door. Matilda
Saw Millie by the window. Her maid’s
Uniform looked tight at the rear. She
Wanted to place her arms around her
Waist, kiss her neck. Millie turned and
Said, He’s out there with Mrs Dimmable.
Matilda walked to the window and stared.
She sensed Millie beside her; heard her
Breathing, the brush of her sleeve against
Her arm. Looks happy enough, Matilda said
Of Mrs. Dimmable. You didn’t sleep too well
Last night, Millie said, turning, going to the
Bed. She pulled back the covers, smoothed
Out the sheet. Matilda went around the other
Side of the bed and looked at Millie. You were
Tossing and turning, Millie said looking up.
Matilda helped make the bed and said, Sorry
About that. Millie stared at Matilda and said
You murmured words. Did I? Matilda replied.
Yes, Millie said, looking at her hands. What did
I say? Matilda asked. You muttered my name.
Millie stood back from the bed, gazed at Matilda.
You said things. What things? Said you loved me.
Millie blushed at the words. Matilda patted the
Pillow but said nothing. She brushed her hands
Over the covers, pushed away creases. She paused.
Looked at the window. Smelt the flowers in a vase.
Do you? Millie asked. Love me? Matilda stared
Out at Mrs Dimmable and the new gardener.
Her lips wanted to move but nothing came.
Her eyes watered. The world was awash. Millie
Walked to the window, put her arms around Matilda’s
Waist, her fingers formed a knot on Matilda’s stomach.
Matilda placed her hands over Millie’s.
They do look in love and contented don’t they?
Millie said over Matilda’s shoulder. Matilda’s sensed
The warm breath. Yes, she said, they do. Do you?
Millie’s breath uttered softly into her ear, yes.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That Cat Won't Sit On Your Lap
She warned me
That cat won't sit on your lap
She won't let you pick her up
And she won't let you sit on your lap
She likes to rub her head on you
But that's it
She won't let you pick her up
The cat looked at me
I looked at her
I let her rub her head on my leg
I look at her again and made a cat noise
She said, you'll see, she doesn't let anybody pick her up
I just looked at the cat
She looked at me
I reached to pick her up and she flinched
But she came back
I looked at her
And picked her up
She arched her back briefly
I rubbed her head, which she liked
The cat stayed on my lap
She said....how did you do that?
I said, I just did!
I looked a the cat
she looked at me
And we agreed not to tell
I put her down
As I did she knowingly looked back at me.
poem by James T. Adair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stories Of Hope Series #1 living in poverty-the trapper and family
Born high in the mountains of Tennessee
With no running water, or electricity.
Living in rags that her father found in the woods
Was her only salvation, her only goods.
They put her in pampers that they had found
Dirty and filthy and pulled from the ground.
A rock stove and firewood
They would eat when they could.
He did fishing and trapping just to survive.
The closest neighbor was twenty miles away
By the time he walked there he would have to stay.
The neighbor would take all that he trapped
In return give him food, clothing, ammunition and fat.
The neighbor then told him:
This is no way to raise a child.
You’ve been in the mountains quite a while.
Things have changed drastically
In school is where this child should be.
This child must learn how to read and write
What you’re doing to her, just isn’t right.
He packed up his knapsack and up the mountain he fled
Putting her with other children, was something he did dread.
He finally got home where his wife and child awaited
He looked at them and then hesitated.
With gleams in their eyes of the goodies he brought.
The child looked in the bag for a doll that she sought.
Not finding the doll in the bag, she turned and walked
From the room looking so sad
She went outside deep in the woods
her head hung down and there she stood.
The tears started to form in her eyes
And then she did cry.
Her father saw this and his heart broke in two
Now he knew what he had to do.
The following morning he went back down the mountain again
To speak to his neighbor, his only friend.
He asked his friend what should I do
My daughter is suffering and feeling blue.
I don’t have the money to buy her things, or send her to school
And living in the mountains is not the right tool.
He said: you are a natural born mountain man
And for you I do have a plan.
How would you like to teach others how to survive
And into your mountains they would climb.
You can teach them how to hunt and fish
This is on a city dwellers wish list.
You will get paid for what you love to do
And to your heart you will be true.
Looking at his family and the way they lived
An education for his child he had to give.
His friend set up flyers and posted them all over town
And on the internet this mountain man was found.
He brought his child down from the mountain top
And until she had an education he would not stop.
She stayed with this neighbor and friend
And saw all that she had missed
She was in heaven, she was in bliss.
Her father now made enough to continue her education
And to learn those golden rules, now he knew she had the tools.
She grew up with hope in their heart
And her father and neighbor gave her the start.
Now don’t ever think that there is nothing
That you can’t do.
With hope in your heart, you can follow thru.
HOPE IS THE KEY TO SET OURSELVES FREE.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The House On Centerville Road
We stopped beside the highway
And gazed at the old house
I told my wife, “That’s where I lived”
When I was just a little sprout
It looked smaller than it once did
Back so many years ago
Even then it was old and creaky
But, as a kid, I didn’t know
Weathered boards were loose and falling
Saplings grew up through the porch
The old tin roof was rusted orange
And the yard looked like a forest
Here dwells my oldest memories
From so many years ago
When our young family lived here
In the house on Centerville road
Those walls once rang with laughter
And the energy of two young lads
Riding stick horses all around the place
Trying to “herd” our collie, Pat
But, Pat knew more than we did
When she’d hear Mama shout
She’d turn us back from the road
And herd two boys toward the house
Dad got a job and we moved to town
Well before I started school
So, my memories are short and sketchy
But, I’ve found there are quite a few
My wife retrieved her camera
And as I turned the key to go
Snapped a picture from her window
Of the house on Centerville road
10/07/07
poem by C.R. Clark
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rachel and You and The Day Trip
It was a day trip out
to some seaside place
arranged by the Gospel church
for kids whose parents
were poor
and having got on the coach
you sat in a seat
by the window
and waved at your mother
standing on the pavement
along Rockingham Street
and she waved back
then this girl sat beside you
who you didn't know
and she smiled and said
all right if I sit here?
sure
you said
and looked back out
at your mother
and waved again
and she waved back
and you thought
who is this girl?
and why is she
sitting next to me?
and she looked at out
the window
and waved to her mother
who started talking
to your mother
and they both waved back
to you and the girl
and you said
do you want to sit
by the window?
and she said
ok yes that'd be nice
and so she got out
and you got out
then she got in
and sat
by the window
and you sat
down beside her
and then the coach
started up
and drove off
and you both waved
at your mothers
until they were out of sight
and the girl turned
and said
I'm Rachel
this is my first time
to the seaside
and you said
you can walk around
with me if you want to
and she said
that'd be good
I don't know
anyone else here
and so she did
all day
walked around with you
along the beach
and on the sands
making sandcastles
and in the cafe
where they took you all
for a meal
of fish and chips
and she talked
and talked
and smiled
and laughed
and once she took
hold of your hand
and it seemed
for a while
that she was happy
at least it seemed so
by the width of her smile.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lot's Wife
They say I looked back out of curiosity.
But I could have had other reasons.
I looked back mourning my silver bowl.
Carelessly, while tying my sandal strap.
So I wouldn't have to keep staring at the righteous nape
of my husband Lot's neck.
From the sudden conviction that if I dropped dead
he wouldn't so much as hesitate.
From the disobedience of the meek.
Checking for pursuers.
Struck by the silence, hoping God had changed his mind.
Our two daughters were already vanishing over the hilltop.
I felt age within me. Distance.
The futility of wandering. Torpor.
I looked back setting my bundle down.
I looked back not knowing where to set my foot.
Serpents appeared on my path,
spiders, field mice, baby vultures.
They were neither good nor evil now--every living thing
was simply creeping or hopping along in the mass panic.
I looked back in desolation.
In shame because we had stolen away.
Wanting to cry out, to go home.
Or only when a sudden gust of wind
unbound my hair and lifted up my robe.
It seemed to me that they were watching from the walls of Sodom
and bursting into thunderous laughter again and again.
I looked back in anger.
To savor their terrible fate.
I looked back for all the reasons given above.
I looked back involuntarily.
It was only a rock that turned underfoot, growling at me.
It was a sudden crack that stopped me in my tracks.
A hamster on its hind paws tottered on the edge.
It was then we both glanced back.
No, no. I ran on,
I crept, I flew upward
until darkness fell from the heavens
and with it scorching gravel and dead birds.
I couldn't breathe and spun around and around.
Anyone who saw me must have thought I was dancing.
It's not inconceivable that my eyes were open.
It's possible I fell facing the city.
poem by Wislawa Szymborska
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sex And The Medical Profession
Sex and the Medical Profession
I’m sitting in my car waiting for my wife who is at mass
I find it impossible to believe in any religion, but I say
nothing it is important for my wife to believe in a merciful
god. Paris, and agony, my wife prayed but did call
an ambulance. Battling doctors, how young they are, I felt
like a low paid, reluctant actor in a hospital drama, one
who has to play the nurse when he really wanted to be
the famous heart transplant surgeon.
The doc asked if I smoked. No! She looked sullen since
I didn’t, it is so easy to blame the fag. I said I had smoked
15 years ago, she looked relieved and told me to keep up
the good, work: she removed the catheter a lovely pee
Is better than sex, if temporarily, now I feel like making
love, my wife tells I’m deluded, I say nothing but bid my
time, keep a blanket in my car in case I should meet
someone who is equally barmy.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On & On (Mersey Song)
Out through the foggy window there just to see the eyes of my future children
looking back at me back through the foggy window
on and on miles pass years turn over
on and on there from that rolled down window ponies run free
cradled protectively there in the greenery somewhere I keep this picture
on and on miles pass years turn over
on and on for all the roads we've travelled
and all the bridges burned I was thinking out loud the ways
of the world that all seem so constant how few
of the lessons we really have learned.
out through the foggy window frozen in frame capturing passing pictures
life's last refrain, memories ashes scatter
on and on miles pass years turn over
on and on
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where Are You
Im all grown up
But somehow, it feels like Im pretending
Visions of my younger years, they are buried
But the scenes that play inside of me, are impending
They are never ending...
Chorus:
Where, where, where, where, where are you?
You dont have to look out that window, anymore.
You can just come back to yourself, you can come back to this world.
Where are you? tell me who heard you. and where are you?
He led me into his room, and had me lay down
My heart, and my soul, and anything else that you could own,
When youre six years old.
But now Im older
(chorus)
Such a quiet secret, it hurt too much trying hard to keep it.
Oh, and I looked up to you... I wanted so much to believe in you.
I wanted so much for you to believe it me.
Oh I tried, I tried.
Where, where, where, where, where are you?
You dont have to look out anymore.
I dont have to look out of that window anymore.
I can just, come back to myself, I can come back this world
Where are you? tell me who heard you? and where are you now?
Where are you? where are you? where are you? where are you?
Tell me who hurt you.
song performed by by Wilson Phillips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Smile
At a cafe in Liverpool I sat eating bacon butty
washed down with milky tea, wife had left me
and I was feeling glum. A woman at a far table
looked at me and smiled. An overcast day, felt
as the sun had come out. I didn’t know what to
say or do so I looked out of the window rain.
Her boyfriend came, they left, but she sent me
another smiling glance
Knew I would be OK.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On & On
Music by 10,000 maniacs - lyrics by mary ramsey
Out through the foggy window there
Just to see the eyes of my future children
Looking back at me
Back through the foggy window
On and on
Miles pass years turn over
On and on
There from that rolled down window
Ponies run free cradled protectively
There in the greenery somewhere
I keep this picture
On and on
Miles pass years turn over
On and on
For all the roads we've travelled
And all the bridges burned
I was thinking out loud the ways of the world
That all seem so constant
How few of the lessons we really have learned.
Out through the foggy window frozen in frame
Capturing passing pictures life's lastrefrain,
Memories ashes scatter
On and on
Miles pass years turn over
On and on.
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Back In Time
Last night; I went back in time
To see my wife if we never had met
I saw my ways, and my upcoming days
And my soul, was full of regret.
She wasn't there, but was in my prayer
As I surveyed the new life that I lived
And I walked alone, in my empty home
As my love for her I couldn't give.
I looked for her, and she couldn't be found
Last night when I went back in time,
So I searched her world, left nothing unfurled
But for her, nothing about her could I find.
So without me she took another path
Because then we had never met
But I stayed on that road, until I died old
Because no other woman in my heart would I let.
Then I had my thought when I awoke from my dream
And my woman she couldn't be found
So I closed my eyes and I sat down to cry
As my world was flipped upside down.
I remember now that she had left me
To be in the arms of another man
She was my love my life, my woman my wife
Now she's holding another mans heart and hand.
Why she left me; GOD will only know
But the love I felt once will never be mine,
I did nothing wrong, just loved her to strong,
Now again I wish, to go back in time.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bombed Out Butcher's Shop.
On the third day
of the holidays
you met Janice
half way up Bath Terrace
at the entrance to the flats
where she lived with her gran
she was dressed in her red beret
yellow flowered cotton dress
white socks and brown sandals
she smiled when she saw you
and said
feared you might not show
I told you I'd be here
you said
she looked at you
and said
I know
but some people say things
but don't show
I'm not some people
if I say I'll be here
I'll be here
you said
glad you're here
she said
Gran doesn't like me
going out alone
she says there are strange men
out there who take kids off
and do things to them
and murder them
yes
you said
I read about that boy
they found murdered
near here
she looked concerned
don't worry
you're with me
my mum told me
where to kick them
if they try anything on
oh
Janice said as you both
walked up to the top
of the terrace
to Harper Road
where're we going?
she asked
a bombed out
butcher's shop
you replied
isn't that dangerous?
she asked
not if we're careful
where we tread
you said
isn't that breaking
and entering?
she asked
no we don't break in
you said
we walk in
the back gate
it's not locked
oh
she said
looking concerned
we won't get into trouble
will we? Gran said
she'd tan my backside
if I got into trouble
would I get you into trouble?
you asked
guess not
she said softly
you crossed
Harper Road
and went round the back
of the bombed out
butcher's shop
and opened the gate
and entered
into an empty yard
you shut the gate
after you
and she stood gaping
at the back of the shop
you showed her
the large walk in freezer
where meat had once
been kept
now empty
smelling of piss
and damp
what if you got locked in?
she said
the lock's busted
you said
oh I see
she replied
her eyes large
and her mouth open
in wonder
you took her into
the shop now empty
apart from a large table
with a marble top
where meat
had once been cut
and chopped up
it stinks
she said
yes tramps get in
sometime and shelter
for the night
are they here now?
she asked nervously
no they go off
in the day
you said
giving her
a smile
you took her up
the creaking stairs
to the upper landing
where the sky
shone through the roof
where a bomb
had fallen in
gosh
she said
how weird
one of the rooms
had an old bed frame
pushed in a corner
and the roof
was still there
except where a few tiles
had gone
someone slept there once
she said
and now
they're probably dead
you took her hand
and walked her
to the window
and looked out
on Harper Road
people would have looked out
of this window too
you said
sad isn't it
she said
and you sensed
her lay
on your shoulder
her fair haired
red bereted head.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On On
Music by 10,000 maniacs - lyrics by mary ramsey
Out through the foggy window there
Just to see the eyes of my future children
Looking back at me
Back through the foggy window
On and on
Miles pass years turn over
On and on
There from that rolled down window
Ponies run free cradled protectively
There in the greenery somewhere
I keep this picture
On and on
Miles pass years turn over
On and on
For all the roads weve travelled
And all the bridges burned
I was thinking out loud the ways of the world
That all seem so constant
How few of the lessons we really have learned.
Out through the foggy window frozen in frame
Capturing passing pictures lifes lastrefrain,
Memories ashes scatter
On and on
Miles pass years turn over
On and on.
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gas Panic!
What tongueless ghost of sin crept through my curtains?
Sailing on a sea of sweat on a stormy night
I think he don't got a name but I can't be certain
And in me he starts to confide
That my family don't seem so familiar
And my enemies all know my name
And if you hear me tap on your window
Yer better get on yer knees and pray panic is on the way
My pulse pumps out a beat to the ghost dancer
My eyes are dead and my throat's like a black hole
And if there's a god would he give another chancer
An hour to sing for his soul
Cos my family don't seem so familiar
And my enemies all know my name
And when you hear me tap on yer window
Yer better get on yer knees and pray panic is on the way
Cos my family don't seem so familiar
And my enemies all know my name
And when you hear me tap on yer window
Then you get on your knees and you better pray
Cos my family don't seem so familiar
And my enemies all know my name
And when you hear me tap on your window
Yer better get on yer knees and pray panic is on the way
Panic is on the way
Panic is on the way
Panic is on the way
song performed by by Oasis from Standing On The Shoulder Of Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Baby With His Whiskers On (Fun Poem 115)
One day a gypsy came to the door
selling a sprig of heather.
Cross my palm with silver
and I’ll make your wish come true.
I gave some silver coins
and she gave me a green and purple pill.
“Take this last thing at night
and tomorrow your wish will be granted.”
I took her green and purple pill
just as she had instructed.
Next morning I awoke still with my whiskers on,
but my poor wife almost had fit
thinking she’d had a baby in the night.
The magic had changed me rapidly
and now I looked only three.
My wish had been to look younger,
it had come very true,
and the magic had turned me
back to the age of three.
My wife was all fingers and thumbs
wondering just what to do.
How was she going to take me out,
a baby of three with his whiskers on?
I looked like her grandson
and not her husband o f many years.
Even I began to wonder how long
it would take before the magic wore off.
Days moved into weeks
and a baby with his whiskers on
I remained to be.
People took photos of me
not quite believing what they saw.
One day my wife took me to the park
and around in the grass I crawled,
a baby with his whiskers on wearing a nappy.
Then suddenly and without warning,
I came back to my normal age.
Now everybody stared at me,
a man in his sixties in the park with only a nappy on.
I managed to get home
without being arrested,
but had to stay in the car until after dark
in case anyone saw me go in.
The moral of this story,
be careful what you wish for,
as the consequences will not
be exactly what you think
and never take
any green and purple pills from a gypsy.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Argentna
Argentina.
When I got up and looked out of the window the village was
floating on a cloud. I walked to where the cloud ended and
saw the pampas of Argentine and horses galloping in a circle
around a dead cypress. The horses looked tired and starved,
but could not stop their senseless galloping around the tree.
There were also many dead foals trampled down in the dust.
I was in Buenos Aires once, remember a great ballroom and
a big marble staircase I saw the dictator’s wife walk down it.
She was dressed in white and striking at a distance, but close
up she looked hollow eyed and her skin was yellow. A band
played wiener waltzes, officers and their women danced with
decorum. It was only when thousand guitars struck up a cord,
music born from paucity and dreams to break free and flee,
the dictator’s lady smiled and looked young again.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soldier’s Wife
Let’s go out
In this cold city
Let me feel
The warmth here
The beloved daughter
As
I am going tomorrow
And who knows
The dinner
Out in the restaurant
A nearby photographer
In uniform
My laurels and stars
I fight for my country
I am a proud soldier
Daughter in his arms
The wife proud
Veil pushed back
So the soldier's family
I found this
In a room
A barrack
Of the soldier
Looked at the photograph
Of thousand hopes
The soldier’s bag
His laurels and stars
The soldier was dead
His laurels and stars
His thousand hopes
What is my fault?
Asked his daughter
And mine too
Asked his wife
His laurels and stars
For the soldier is dead
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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