Jack Ketch
I was only sixteen, when I was seduced
By a woman of thirty-three,
The Governor's wife at the Prisoner's Ball
And she offered to dance with me,
I blushed, I stammered, and hung my head
But she moved with a fluid grace,
She took my hand for the Colonel's Waltz,
And squeezed in a warm embrace.
I did the odd job at the prison then,
Just sweeping and cleaning the yard,
Carrying messages round each wing
But nothing you'd call too hard,
I'd sometimes go to the Governor's House
To help with the garden there,
And I'd see his wife, sweet Caroline,
As she sunned herself in a chair.
She would lie in that part of the garden
Shaded cool by an apple tree,
Reading a book in her cozy nook
Taking little account of me,
Or so I thought, 'til the day she sought
Me out at the Prisoner's Ball,
When she whispered things in my ear that night
And pinned me close to the wall.
I was just a boy, and she wanted a toy to
Play with when she was bored,
She egged me on in the garden shade
While I just felt overawed,
Then I heard that she was expecting, and
She cut me out of her life,
She played that part so wonderfully well,
The dutiful Governor's wife.
A boy was born in the early spring
And they christened him Billy Cole,
I wasn't allowed near a yard of him
And it ate deep into my soul,
I watched him grow from a distance then,
But she finally got me the sack,
She told the Governor I'd been spying
Whenever she lay on her back.
The years went by and I got me a trade,
But I lived right next to the Jail,
I'd watch them motor right by me then
And I felt myself turn pale,
They looked so fine in their motorcade,
With the windows wound right down,
My son grew tall by the prison wall
As the weeks and the years rolled round.
The hard times came, the hard times went,
I needed some extra pounds,
The government service advertised,
I applied, and they asked me round,
I must have done well in their questionnaire
For I got the job in the end,
They would call me, give me a time and place
And expect me to attend.
I didn't speak of my duties then,
It wasn't considered 'form',
It was only once in a purple moon
The official summons came,
I kept my secret and nobody asked,
I worked at my trade by day,
Then every so often the phone would ring:
'I'm sorry, I'm called away! '
For twenty years I held my peace,
But followed my Billy Cole,
I drank in the bars where he would drink,
Sat deep in a corner stall,
I watched him mixing in company
I'd have warned him of, if I could,
But whenever I plucked the courage up
My tongue would turn to wood.
I heard his name start cropping up
With a gang in the old East End,
His mouth had taken a surly look
And he seemed like he needed a friend,
But his eyes were hard as the hardest flint
And his cheek was scarred to the bone,
He carried a blade and a razor strop
So I left him well alone.
His mother, Caroline, sought him out
And begged him to go with her,
I heard him laugh in a quick retort:
'Go home to the Governor?
You must be mad, ' he told her then,
He's not been a father to me! '
And Caroline cried, and dabbed at her eyes
While I watched from under a tree.
I turned away - 'Too late, too late, '
I thought, 'if she'd only seen
That blood was thicker than water...'
But all that was a might-have-been.
The tears sprang as I walked away
And rolled at my cheek, undone;
The dye was cast and the lad was lost
Before I could find my tongue.
He killed a man in a brawl one day,
Over some cards that lied,
Was wrestled down to the floor and held
For the constable outside,
They took him down to the holding cells
And charged him there on the spot,
'It's Murder One, my lad, you'll need
All the guile that your lawyer's got.'
He went in front of the Bailey, where
The balance of justice stands,
The trial was over before he looked
On down at his trembling hands,
The Judge came back, put on the cap
So black, right over his head,
Delivered the dreaded few words that he heard,
And those were... 'hanged by the neck...'
I got to visit him only the once, down
Where the condemned man waits,
He scowled as I stood by the door, and said:
'Have you come with your measuring tapes? '
I said, 'No son, but I had to come,
To right a very old wrong...
By God in heaven, I'll tell you now -
I'm your father, and you're my son! '
I wept, he wept, and I left him there
To pay for his terrible crime,
And I... I took to my bed just then,
Pulled all the curtains and blinds,
A week, two weeks, I was woken then
With a summons, time and a place,
So I packed a bag in the early hours
Took up my travelling case.
At dawn, I walked through the prison yard
Was shown through the bars and gates,
I spread my gear in an empty cell,
And opened my travelling case,
They brought him down with the chaplain then
So brave, but a little sad,
As I pulled the hood down over his eyes,
I swear that he called me - 'Dad! '
24 September 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Execution
Execution
Ann had killed two men, for that she was fated to
die, there had been many appeals, they were in
vain; the governor too, not a man of much emotion,
had turned his manicured thumbs down.
Ann had been in our prison, five years now and had
become a friend and it was us, her keepers, whose
task it was to end her life, this woman who felt safe
in our jail, but she had brutally killed two men.
She asked us to be in the death room with her and
we spoke to her as she was injected with lethal drugs
and slipped away. A murderess that had killed her
father and brother, but refused to tell anyone why.
I was alone in the office when the phone rang,
the governor himself on the line, it was his birthday
and if it wasn’t too late her life could be spared.
“Too late? Ok! A killer, guess she deserved to die.”
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Pearls of Verna Boone
I'd been alone for a year or so
Since Norma Jean had died,
I stayed in the house I'd bought for her
At the end of River Drive,
I'd felt her death as a fatal blow,
A crippling twist of fate,
For Norma Jean was my one true love,
Though I'd met her a little late!
I was past my prime when our eyes had met,
And she'd looked so young to me,
Her eyes had sparkled like diamonds set
As scarabs in sand and sea,
She saw the desert behind my eyes,
The emptiness in my life,
I stumbled over the words, but she
Said 'Yes! ' - She would be my wife!
I didn't know that she carried then
The seeds of a painful death,
Her face was flushed at the altar stone
And she seemed so short of breath,
I thought it merely a passing faint
That excitement had brought on,
As we stood in front of the Minister,
And joined our lives as one.
But then at home, she fell apart,
Collapsed on the kitchen floor,
I saw her lying, and coughing blood
Like I'd never seen before,
The doctor called, and he shook his head
As he left her there in the bed,
'I'm very sorry, ' the doctor sighed,
'But your lovely wife is dead! '
I cried and raged, and swore at fate
I smashed each wedding gift,
I wouldn't go to the funeral
But stayed at home and wept.
I cursed the heavens and thought that hell
Could never have been as bad
As a love that I'd waited a lifetime for,
A love that I'd never had!
The house next door was a rental place,
Stood empty for months that year,
But then a couple had moved on in,
I didn't see him, just her.
I thought that he was a traveller,
Was constantly on the road,
He came at night, and he left at dawn
In a battered and ancient Ford.
I had no reason to talk to them,
I sat at home with my grief,
I wandered out in the garden then
At one with each falling leaf,
But then one day, I heard her there
The other side of the fence,
Breaking her heart, as crying there
She sobbed with vehemence.
After a week of this, I climbed
The fence, and spoke to her,
'Why do you sigh, why do you cry? '
But she cried then all the more.
I walked around and sat with her
Quite late in the afternoon,
She smiled, and dried her eyes, and said,
'My name is Verna Boone! '
She said she'd only been married
Just a year this coming Spring,
But now that she knew the man he was,
Regretted everything,
He'd lost her money, just gambled it,
Had spent it on other girls,
And now they were left with nothing, he
Just wanted her mother's pearls!
'They're all I have to remember her, '
She sobbed, like a frightened child,
'They're worth a lot, but they're more to me, '
She looked at me, and smiled.
She took me inside and pulled them out
Three strings, they were very fine,
'He said that he's going to pawn them! '
Then she put her small hand in mine.
I was sad, alone and vulnerable,
I looked at her lovely curls,
She smiled at me, and she asked me then
If I'd care for her mother's pearls?
'I'll say they're lost, misplaced, I'll say,
He'll rant and rage, and more,
But he won't be able to pawn them now...'
Then she walked me to the door.
I took her home, and I placed the pearls
With the gems my wife had once:
'They'll be all right in the downstairs safe.'
It was then that she saw the gun.
She looked afraid, but she picked it up
And weighed it there in her hand,
I took it gently and locked it up
With the rest of my contraband.
'She must have watched as I spun the dial,
I know - I was such a fool! '
The sergeant sat and he stared at me,
And his stare was distant, cool.
He didn't believe a word I said
I could see that now, I'm done!
They put me back in a cell to wait
To be charged with Murder One!
She told them I had come over when
Her husband came home one night,
Waving a gun and ranting, then
Her husband put up a fight!
I'd shot him once through the head, she said,
Then taken her on the bed,
Stolen a fine pearl necklace,
Then beaten and left her for dead!
They found the gun on the floor, they said,
I knew that the gun was mine,
They found the pearls in my safe, they said,
It was only a question of time.
She sat at the back of the court while I
Was stood in the prisoner's dock,
And I noticed she wore her mother's pearls
With a nice new evening frock.
10 August 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Thy Will Be Done!
I always thought that Jean La Mare was strange,
Gave me the creeps,
With lank, uncared for russet hair
And eyes with depths and deeps,
She hung her head when walking by
Wore dresses to her shins,
She had no friends at school, at lunch
Sat by the rubbish bins.
Her father was the picture of a
Martinet of old,
Bolt upright, at attention he
Would rant at her, and scold.
An Army Colonel, long retired
His wife dead in the ground,
His thoughts for bringing daughters up
Were ancient, and profound.
She dared not answer back, nor baulk
At anything he said,
He kept her close, so close we thought
That she slept in his bed.
We never saw her out of school
She cooked and cleaned and swept,
When asked if she'd be at the Ball,
She turned away, and wept.
Time passed, and we had left the school,
Got on with living life,
I met someone, and pretty soon
Had caught myself a wife,
But my old friend from schooldays
Richard Carson, lived alone,
He said he'd not met anyone
Who thrilled him to the bone.
We'd all turned just on thirty when
He dropped the big surprise,
He said that he'd asked Jean La Mare!
I answered, 'Is that wise? '
It seems the Martinet had died,
Was safely in his box,
So Jean was free, and so was he
To tie the wedding knots.
I saw her at the wedding there,
The first time then for years,
I saw her laugh for once, she laughed
So much, it came to tears.
They seemed so happy in that church,
Her burden dead and gone,
But Richard told me later of
Her curse - 'Thy Will Be Done! '
For every evening of her life
She'd get down on her knees,
Before a varnished wooden box
And pray that she had pleased!
The box stood on the mantelpiece
And Richard dared not ask
Just what was in that box; he thought
It was her father's ash!
She'd pray and ask for guidance, then
She'd listen in the gloom,
He never heard a murmur but, she did,
Before that tomb!
She'd answer statements no-one made,
Would wail, then plead, implore,
While Richard stayed away and hid,
Stood listening by the door!
He asked her what her father said
When he'd approached him once,
The old man turned and marched away,
He'd felt quite like a dunce!
He'd asked if he could take her out,
The Colonel stood and glared:
'If you should even speak to her, young man,
I'll see you dead! '
But Jean had blushed and looked away,
And wouldn't answer then,
She muttered: 'He just didn't want me
Mixing with young men! '
But then she started acting strange,
Would slyly look away,
Whenever he came in the room
As she was going to pray.
He came to see me, looking ill,
He said he was unwell,
That Jean was getting stranger by the day
His life was hell!
She'd served him up a meal that made
Him sick, perspire and weak,
I told him he should get away...
He found it hard to speak!
I didn't want to interfere
But things were looking grim,
I went around to see them, well, not her,
I cared for him.
She flashed a look of hate at me,
Unbridled, undisguised,
She looked like some fanatic with
Grey analytic eyes.
She left us then to talk, and I
Saw on the mantelpiece,
The box that he'd described to me,
I said, 'Just call the Police! '
I'd flipped the clasp, the front swung down
It opened up to dread,
For staring at us both, we saw
His eyeless, staring head!
Then Jean came back, let out a scream,
Attacked me with a knife,
I caught her wrist, said: 'Richard,
Just restrain your crazy wife! '
She fell down on her knees and cried:
'I tried to be a son! '
Then listened, as if hearing it,
Then said, 'Thy will be done! '
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Swan Song
Her hair was as black as a starling's tail,
Her cheeks as pale as a swan,
Her eyes, like two slim moonstones, glowed
And her mouth was the Holy Grail.
She'd played in the dirt of the village street
So long ago, so long...
She'd swum in the pools of the mountain stream,
But now, that girl had gone.
While I still rise with the early bird
To tend to my father's fields,
As the only son of an only son
I watched the woman leave.
She cried sweet tears as she said farewell
And vowed to come back, and soon,
But the village streets of a western town
Hold nothing for Ling Xiaodan.
The weeks went by, then the months and years
And I heard of her now and then,
She was dressed in expensive clothes, I heard,
She was driving a shiny car;
She was seen at the Beijing Opera
By a man who worked at the door,
'She glided by like a Queen, ' he said,
'As her dress trailed long on the floor.'
And her wai po, down in the village square
Would brag of her daughter's girl,
'She will snare some man with a million yuan, '
She said, 'not a farmer's son.
Go home to your fields and forget her now,
She's not for an also-ran! '
And laughed, as the tears sprang into my eyes
For the love of Ling Xiaodan.
She came back once to the village street
To her home, as ever we must,
But carefully held her dress up high
To avoid the rubbish and dust,
I stood at the side and she looked at me,
Then turned, looked quickly away,
For Ling Xiaodan and a farmer's son
Had nothing at all to say.
But I saw her once before she left,
Alone by the mountain stream,
Her eyes were sorrowful, in remorse,
Remembering how we'd been.
'I loved you once, as a child, ' she said
'But the world is harsh, and grey...
We do what our fathers want us to,
And my father sent me away.'
I sat by her then, and held her hand,
Stroking her neck, and hair,
And kissed the cheek, so pale and wan,
And I cried in a deep despair.
'You must get on with your life, ' she said,
'Get a wife and a baby son;
I leave tomorrow to see the man
That my father has met in town.'
I heard that she'd wed a businessman,
And cried in the quiet gloom,
My dream had died by the mountain stream,
On that day, in the afternoon.
She worked in a shop her husband owned,
So they said, but I never heard
'Til the body was brought back home again,
That the love of my life was dead.
It seemed that she'd sold her favours there
In the rear of a grimy store,
To any man with the change to spare
While her husband played Mah Jongg.
He'd gambled his fortune, and lost it all
While his wife kept the fool from jail
With what she earned with her hands and hair,
And a mouth like the Holy Grail.
But then, a man who was ill or mad
Put his grimy hands at her throat,
And squeezed the life from the darling neck
That I'd once both loved, and stroked.
They buried her up on the mountainside
By the stream, in sight of her home,
And from where I stand in the paddy fields
I can see her pale white stone.
She'd played in the dirt of the village street
So long ago, so long...
She'd swum in the pools of the mountain stream,
But now, that girl had gone.
I married a woman I barely knew
And she bore me a black-haired girl,
With eyes like two slim moonstones, and...
A mouth like the Holy Grail.
10 March 2006
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Karma
He looked down over the valley,
Over the verdant green and trees,
And suddenly felt so humbled
That he sighed, and fell to his knees,
He'd only been out a single day
With the world before him spread,
So still he could hear those prison gates
As they'd clanged behind, in his head.
He'd finished his twenty seven years
He'd paid society's due,
Locked in a cell of eight by ten
For the things that he'd had to do,
He'd shown no mercy to Annabel,
No more to the Widow Peak,
He'd drowned them, just as he meant to do
When they'd met, in less than a week.
He thrilled at the thought of their staring eyes
As he held them down in the bath,
Watching their lives leach out of them,
Just as he'd done with Kath,
There'd been so many, he'd not confessed
But been convicted for two,
The other ten would have got him life
Without reprieve, if they knew.
He went to live in the valley
Rented a cottage under the trees,
Owned by a man called Anderson
Who'd visited him for years,
He'd said he knew of a valley where
He could start his life again,
He'd said, ‘Now here is your second chance,
Back in the world of men! '
He wandered round in the cottage
Took in the bathroom at a glance,
Took in the nice deep marble tub
With a smirk and a rub of his hands,
The village was just a walk away
But he'd give it a day or two,
Then check for a widow or single girl
At the store, as he wandered through.
He spent the night reminiscing
Thinking of all those staring eyes,
Of Kristen Poole, that silly young fool
That he'd fed with outrageous lies,
Her mouth had flapped like a goldfish
As she fought in a bleak despair,
But nearly a foot of water lay
Between her face and the air.
And who was that girl, that Marigold,
That he'd met in the Shop ‘n Save?
He'd thought that her name was Sanderson,
She didn't know how to behave,
She'd said her brother looked out for her
Would interfere with her fun,
But once in a bath of water,
It would only be fun for one.
He lay and stared at the ceiling as
He felt quite suddenly cold,
The name of his mentor Anderson
Came creeping back to his soul,
He heard the rushing of water
Off in the distance, up on the heights,
And made his way to the village
Lying in darkness, deep in the night,
The cottages all were empty
So was the chapel, totally bare,
The door of the shop was open
Nothing but garbage left in there,
He turned and ran up the village street
But the thunder was hard at his heels,
When a wall of water, ten feet high
Rushed over the verdant fields.
They'd opened the sluices at the dam
To flood the Valley at night,
To turn it into a reservoir
For a city that lay nearby,
The villagers had been gone for a month
But they stood and they watched the tide,
Flooding their tiny cottages
While Anderson laughed, and cried!
11 November 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lost In Wal-Mart
So... I was in one of those Wal-mart Super Stores
Just the other day
When in the middle of the hallway
I felt someone grab my fingers tight
I looked and there she was... a little child holding
With all her might
I saw her eyes big and brown
Somehow she pulled me to the ground
Now..what was a man...big as me suppose to do
So... I said... child... Can I help you..?
As she looked at me with big brown eyes
Her beauty and sadness... almost caused a great flood
And with her voice ready to cry
She ask... If'n...I'd seen her mommy?
Now has anybody ever had their heart fallout of their soul...?
Mine did... And I couldn't help but notice
Her knees.. Shaking... Like she was at the North Pole.
Now you... and me... and everyone knows...
Children aren't to talk to strangers...
Because we've all heard... how great... and terrible those..dangers!
But she still had hold...of my fingers
Well... at that same time I felt.. heard a voice in my head
Don't move.... this is where I should.. need.. to stand
I did... But I still raised up my left hand
Because.. I didn't... know what to do?
I felt like that child... back in first grade school!
So... I spoke with my voice really loud.
I said...this child's mommy is lost... (you see)
I have always been able to see when love needed my help!
But this time... I had never known how helpless..I felt!
I said...please..someone.. call the M.O.D.
Short for Manager on Duty.
Help me... Find the mommy of this little cutie
Well in a few moments through that crowd of people
This women... M.O.D. appeared
She knelt down and said..Oh.. Oh...you're such a little dear...
Held out her hands..said sweetie come-mere
Yet.. I knew what this child was thinking... because
She now clung to me
Her arm went tight.. around my knee
And in her fist part of my jean's
I felt heard again that gentlest of a voice
I know you can you feel... her fear.....
So I want you... to just stand here....
Well I let my left hand rest gently...on her little head
I felt the trembling...and some how it cut my soul....
(because I felt those greatest of dreads)
So there we were twenty... thirty minutes... maybe a little more..
Then that voice ok look to the left
And from a hundred yards I saw her and the plant nursey room door
and heard that one's the mom....!
And even from that distance
I knew my thoughts were right
She looked like she'd seen a ghost
Face Pale.... I reconized her... pure.. It was Snow..White..
So I raised that child up to my shoulder
That had clung so tight to my knee...Shouted... Hey Lady... Over here..
I can't describe her relief... nor her tears...
But..I'll never forget them...or her...for the rest of my years...
Because as she came close... I cleary heard...Thank..You..God...!
As she fell with that child in her arms...knee's hitting the floor..
She begged for mercy... forgivness...
From the child, from God... I was'nt quite shore?
Well Ok.. I finally decided it was safe for me.. I turned to leave
And there again.. she was wrapped around my knee
This time love forced me to the ground
All the while that mommy's great tears.. rained down
I glanced briefly at the face.. of that girl women that still cried
And then I said Child... Is this your mom?
With a smile and nod... said my name is Dawnn..
She showed me a bruise on her elbow
That had been caused by her cat... his name was Heck
Then she smiled and embaced my neck
Suddenly I was there outside my heart
My own tears began to start............... well
When I was able I a-rose.. that mom started to explain
Mention husband...Iraq... two years... and a plane
In her haste had thought Grandma had
Her in her car
That she had to go... airport...late and so far
Tell her don't speed the plane will be late
I did what I was told... and ask if'n.. I... could hold Dawnn
Because she needed to call her own mom...
On the phone... Yes.. Yes... Mom I have her.. she's safe...
What..what.. The plane is late... How do you know that?
She then said mom... I need to call you back
Putting her cell phone down
She stared at me with eyes big and round
Then I smiled at Dawnn.. and put my head down
She said it's been so hard.. these last two years
And again she said, Thank You God....through some more tears
She stepped closer... and almost whisperd.. so I could barley hear
She said...I ask God to have someone he trusted
Guard my daughter until I got there
She cried and still stared
I put love and little Dawnn back on the ground
I tired to mumble something... but couldn't hardly make a sound
So I said good by to Dawn and take good care of Heck
Then that women child said thank you Clyde
And... with her free arm pert near broke my neck
She stilled cried a little... guess.. I did the same
Surprised that she knew my name
She said God Loves you u-know
And I have to go
As she backed up... she added
I'll name my first son....
After the man that can see far....
May God bless you where-ere you go... or are....
So I wrote this poem about a little girl and her mom Lost in Wal-mart.
I admit I was confussed as to why this little girl came to me and ask me to help her find her mom.But what was I to do, I could only stand there
and try to do what I felt was the correct thing.
It was easy to see that young women that came running into that
store was lost and scared. I don't claim anything but it was strange to have this little girl refuse help from so many of the other's that were there. Yet I obeyed the thoughts that kept coming into my soul. I'm not sure if it was the right thing to do. I just did what I thought came into my mind. It was like I was thinking with and unused portion of my heart, if that was possible.. the end
poem by Clyde Bryson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Reckoning
My mother was carried to heaven
On the day that I turned six,
She died of tuberculosis
Spitting blood in a coughing fit,
She'd been so ill for a long long time
That I couldn't recall her smile,
My father, he just grumbled, said:
'Your Ma will be gone for a while.'
'She's gone to sing in a choir up there,
Who knows how long she will be? '
But I saw the coffin that carried her out,
The hearse and the burial tree,
I watched as it sank down into the ground
And my father just left it there,
Went off to visit my 'aunt', he said,
A woman with long, blond hair.
I stayed at home, such a lonely child,
And went to a place in my head,
Where mother was fit and without a care
She laughed at the things I said,
My father left me alone a lot
So mother would tell me, 'Shush! '
We'd laugh and giggle when he went out
But talk in a sort of hush.
I played outside at other times
Where the grass grew long and wild,
I'd catch the skinks as they darted past,
I was always a curious child,
I'd bring the Sleepy Lizards home,
My father didn't mind,
He said I could keep the pets I caught,
I thought he was being kind.
But then one day he came on home
With this 'aunt', who moved right in,
He said they were married now, so I
Should call her 'Mum', not Jen.
I scowled, and went to my room to cry,
My mother was looking sad,
She said, 'just do what your father says,
I'm your Mother, but he's your Dad.'
This Jenny, she was all right at first
She tried to make me smile,
But I was feeling rebellious then,
And turned my back for a while,
I kept my rabbits and guinea pigs
And fed them out in their hutch,
But Jenny came out to look at them,
And she didn't like them much.
I knew, she wrinkled her powdered nose
And said, 'Oh pew! They stink!
We'll have to find you a hobby, one
That's pure and clean, I think.'
I heard her talking to father, say
That she thought I was rather slow,
She wanted the garden tidied up
So my animals had to go.
It was just about that time, I think
That my mother said goodbye,
She couldn't stay in that house, she said,
It was time for her to fly,
She left me alone in a great big world
So I brought a Lizard inside,
And put it under my bedclothes
Thought it a perfect place to hide.
When Jenny made the bed, she screamed
And shook me like a rag,
She went and got a kitchen knife
And a plastic shopping bag,
She made me put the Lizard in
Then she took the bag outside,
And stabbed and stabbed 'til the Lizard bled,
'Til my Lizard friend had died.
'Now bury it! ' she said to me,
'And don't you ever dare
Bring filthy animals into this house,
For if you do, I swear...'
At this she put the knife to my throat
And stood and watched me scream,
I saw the hate in her powdered face
It was like an awful dream!
Whenever my father left the house
She'd always scream and shout,
Knock me around for the slightest thing
Then drag me, throw me out,
Lock the door so I couldn't get in
And give me nothing to eat,
She said if I told my Dad on her
It would only get me beat.
She killed my rabbits, cooked them up
And served them from a pot,
She gave me a crooked, evil grin:
'You'd better eat the lot! '
I found myself in a black, black rage
Inside, at the things she'd done,
And hoped that my father would go on out
And buy himself a gun.
He never knew what she did to me,
I never would dare to say,
I knew that she'd get me on my own
And then there'd be hell to pay,
So I stayed outside in the barren fields
And found me a hessian sack,
Then went for a hunt with a long, forked stick,
It was time to get her back!
I waited until he'd gone away,
Was gone two days or more,
Then bit my tongue as she raved at me,
Spat hate from the kitchen door,
The morning came, and there wasn't a sound
To come from that angry head,
And I will never regret the day
I put a snake in her bed.
10 March 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Grave that I Dug for You!
It was three o'clock in the morning
On the final day of spring,
I was stuck in a hole in the graveyard
Of Saint Matthews, Nether Ling,
I like to dig them at nightfall when
The folk are home, in bed,
Not wandering round the churchyard
Making a racket, waking the dead!
It's creepy enough as it is, whenever
The Moon sails over the church,
And shines its beams on the headstones
Of Jack Dervish, or Bill Burch,
Of mad old Widow Maloney, who,
The stories do abound,
Was carried kicking and screaming
In her coffin, and put in the ground.
My job is a labour of love, I've lived
In this village, all my life,
I know each one who lives here, every
Mistress, husband and wife,
Whenever I dig a grave, I know
Exactly who it's for,
And shed the bitter, parting tear
For the ones who go before.
I've even dug for my own, my
Darling mother, and my dad,
They left on that last long journey when
I was but still a lad,
The Vicar made me the Sexton, so
That I could earn my keep,
Living alone in the cottage, ghosts
Would haunt me in my sleep.
I often manage an extra grave,
That I dig by the iron fence,
All overhung with the creepers, that
I buy, for Peter's Pence,
They're there for the poor and needy who
Can't manage a burial fee,
So I carry the bodies at midnight, drop
Them in, all buried for free!
I always attend the services,
And stand right up at the back,
And that's where I first saw Caroline,
My love, my Caroline Black,
She went to her brother's funeral
With veil, and covered in lace,
But the wind blew up as she left, and then
I saw sweet Caroline's face.
I fell; I saw and was smitten,
She had given me half a smile,
I felt so bold as to ask her if
I could walk with her, for a while.
We went some way, she held my hand
And she looked me, square in the eye,
‘What would you say if I told you that
My mother's about to die? '
It seemed that her mother had cancer,
So she told me, with a tear,
They'd told her mother three months ago
She wouldn't live out the year,
She lived way up on the hillside there
In the mansion called ‘Beau Clair',
I thought that she must have money
But she said - ‘The cupboard is bare! '
The money they'd paid for the funeral
Of her brother had been the last,
Her father had gone some years ago,
And had left them little cash,
‘How will I bury my mother, ' Caroline
Cried, as women will do,
‘Now don't you fret, ' I assured her,
I have a grave I've dug for you! '
The mother died the following week,
The doctor had thought it strange,
He'd given the mother a bill of health
To last to a ripe old age,
The coroner was quite upset
When he found how the woman died,
It seemed the autopsy findings showed
Her full of insecticide.
The brother was raised at once, I know,
I dug him up in the night,
Surrounded by Sheriff's officers
Who carried a lantern light,
They found the same insecticide
Had seeped right into his bones,
And Caroline went on trial that day
In spite of her sobs, and moans.
I saw her once, right after the trial
When the judge put on his hat,
That little black square of portent
That had sentenced Caroline Black.
He'd said: ‘You shall be hanged by the neck,
Pray God for your soul to save,
Your crimes are the crimes of parricide,
They will follow you, into the grave! '
They let me into the holding cell
As she waited to be sent down,
So pale and brave now the deed was done
Though she kept her eyes on the ground.
‘If only…' I had begun to say,
But she stayed me: ‘What can you do? '
‘I can keep you warm, and comfortable,
In the grave that I dug for you! '
9 September 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
From a distance
From a distance Lord I followed You
as I wondered what the crowd would do.
Keeping silent I walked by myself.
There undetected I moved with stealth.
In the distance You were on Your own
before the Sanhedrin all alone.
By the fireside I stood keeping warm
leaving You alone to face the storm.
Then, 'You're one of them' I heard her say
so I turned my head and looked away.
'I don't know this man' out loud I said
and cursing denied my Lord instead.
Far from You my Lord I swore out loud
unable now to hide in the crowd.
With oaths and curses as I stood there
three times denying they heard me swear.
Your eyes met mine in the distance Lord
they spoke much louder than any word.
For the way, Lord that You looked at me
convicted me of my hypocrisy.
I felt so ashamed of what I'd done
and into the distance tried to run.
Though I wept and sobbed deep tears of grief
I was unable to find any relief.
In the distance as You climbed the hill
I kept myself hidden there until
You were led away and crucified.
The Lord I'd forsaken and denied.
'Too late' I thought as I saw You die.
'Too late to say sorry' was my cry.
So I left behind that shameful cross
and went back to fishing feeling my loss.
All through the night I was toiling there
as the dawn rose I looked in despair.
Then a voice called out loud from the shore
'On the other side you'll catch much more.'
On the other side we filled our net.
So many fish I'll never forget.
'It is the Lord' I heard someone say.
I leapt out of the boat straight away.
To be close to You was my desire
swimming to join You there by the fire.
The others joined with us at the meal
their wonder unable to conceal.
Three times You asked me if I loved You.
Three times I said 'Lord, You know I do.'
I thought as we dined by the sea shore
'I'll not keep my distance any more.'
Coward Of The County
(roger bowling/billy edd wheeler)
Evryone considered him the coward of the county.
Hed never stood one single time to prove the county wrong.
His mama named him tommy, the folks just called him yellow,
But something always told me they were reading tommy wrong.
He was only ten years old when his daddy died in prison.
I looked after tommy cause he was my brothers son.
I still recall the final words my brother said to tommy:
Son, my life is over, but yours is just begun.
Promise me, son, not to do the things Ive done.
Walk away from trouble if you can.
It wont mean youre weak if you turn the other cheek.
I hope youre old enough to understand:
Son, you dont have to fight to be a man.
Theres someone for evryone and tommys love was becky.
In her arms he didnt have to prove he was a man.
One day while he was workin the gatlin boys came callin.
They took turns at becky.... there was three of them!
Tommy opened up the door and saw his becky cryin.
The torn dress, the shattered look was more than he could stand.
He reached above the fireplace and took down his daddys picture.
As his tears fell on his daddys face, he heard these words again:
Promise me, son, not to do the things Ive done.
Walk away from trouble if you can.
It wont mean youre weak if you turn the other cheek.
I hope youre old enough to understand:
Son, you dont have to fight to be a man.
The gatlin boys just laughed at him when he walked into the barroom.
One of them got up and met him halfway cross the floor.
When tommy turned around they said, hey look! ol yellows leavin.
But you coulda heard a pin drop when tommy stopped and blocked the door.
Twenty years of crawlin was bottled up inside him.
He wasnt holdin nothin back; he let em have it all.
When tommy left the barroom not a gatlin boy was standin.
He said, this ones for becky, as he watched the last one fall.
And I heard him say,
I promised you, dad, not to do the things you done.
I walk away from trouble when I can.
Now please dont think Im weak, I didnt turn the other cheek,
And papa, I sure hope you understand:
Sometimes you gotta fight when youre a man.
Evryone considered him the coward of the county.
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Day That Time Would Stop!
The passageway was longer than he thought
He would have said,
It seemed to go forever,
But the words stayed in his head.
That drumming in his ears was surely
Just the lack of sound,
And could it be, he floated,
With his feet just off the ground?
The ambulance had called for him at just
On half past three,
He'd told his wife: ‘Don't bother,
It will go away, you'll see! '
His wife was more determined than she'd
Ever been before,
She dialled up on her mobile
And she waved him, at the door.
‘It's all just fuss and bother, this, ' he thought,
And flushed quite red,
The fellow in the ambulance
Looked grim, and shook his head.
He tried to give him oxygen, then
Called out to his mate:
‘You'd better put your foot down,
Or we might be there too late! '
He felt the lurch of speed, and heard the
Sirens start to wail,
He only felt embarrassment,
‘Such fuss! Beyond the pale! '
But then the light had faded in the
Middle of the day,
And that was when he found himself
Deep in that passageway!
The light became much brighter, at the end
He saw a door,
It slowly started opening,
He couldn't see much more,
But then he floated through it, standing
Stark within this room
Filled wall to wall with flowers that
Had just begun to bloom!
He stood there for a moment, he could not
Believe his eyes,
A crowd of happy people jumped
On out, and yelled: ‘Surprise! '
Then streamers and balloons appeared
And tangled round his feet,
He stared at them in wonder as
His heart had ceased to beat!
His father stood there grinning, he had died
Before his time
While his mother wiped a tear away,
She'd left when he was nine,
And all the aunts and uncles from
His distant memories,
Now stood and charged a glass to him,
And smiled, and shouted: ‘Cheers! '
‘He doesn't know what's happened, give him time, '
Said Uncle Ron,
‘We're just so glad to see you - My!
The weight that you've put on!
You must have seen it coming, all
That pain before you drop;
It's common to us all, you know,
The Day that Time would Stop! '
He paused to think about his wife, and
Wondered if she cried,
Or simply shrugged her shoulders when
She heard that he had died,
The heart that he no longer had
He knew would never mend;
He stood erect and dignified -
A funeral to attend!
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Strip Jack!
We'd been caught out in the yacht that day,
A storm blew up in the lee,
The clouds had gathered at four o'clock
In the wake of a rising sea,
'It's looking grim, ' I had said to her
As we spun the bows around,
And headed in to the distant shore
As the first of the rain came down.
The sun went in and the sky was black
As I reefed the sail in short,
While Linda pulled in the spinnaker,
And clung to the rail's support,
She made her way to the cabin then
As my phone began to ring,
I heard, 'It's done! ' and my mind went numb,
It was time to do my thing!
She stood with her back toward me as
I lunged with the marlin spike,
She dropped like a faded butterfly
In search of its last midnight,
I dragged her out to the afterdeck
And bound her up in the chain,
Then sent her down with the anchor where
She never would wake again!
I cast off the anchor chain and then
I retched all over the deck,
It had to be done, I told myself,
And I thought of her cousin, Beck,
She'd done the deed we'd agreed upon,
Had seen off her husband, Ben,
So Beck would be mine to have and hold
As I'd dreamed and I'd schemed, back when.
We'd always been close, the four of us,
Had holidayed in the snow,
We'd sat in a dark secluded bar
In the aftermath of a show,
We'd played Strip Jack in the garden 'til
The women were stripped to the waist,
Then each of us swapped, and went to bed,
And woke to a different face!
We thought we could get away with it,
Old friends, just casual sex,
We'd been together so long, we had
No clue what would happen next,
I thought that Linda was furtive,
Making eyes at Ben in the dark,
And I was caught in a whisper then,
With Beck in our local park.
Then Ben and I found the silences
Embarrassing, hard to bear,
Where once we'd laughed and we'd joked
That camaraderie wasn't there,
Then Beck had told me he'd soured on her,
And Linda, too, went strange,
So when we swapped, we schemed and planned
With our partners out of range.
'I think he's planning to murder me, '
Said Beck, on a tearful night,
When she curled up tight in the sheets and cried,
And seemed in an awful plight,
'I wonder what they're planning now, '
She said, in the early dawn,
Then I thought of Linda's silences,
And Ben, and I felt forlorn.
Then Beck had told me she loved me so,
And drove me out of my mind,
I knew that I'd do most anything
For the wife of my former friend,
She said one day that she had a plan,
To rid herself of Ben,
'But you must do what you have to do
When I phone, and tell you when! '
I tied the yacht to the outer Quay
Drove homeward, just as we'd planned,
I thought to report the following day
That she'd left for another man,
But when I opened the old front door
I saw them sitting there,
Both Ben, alive, in the dining room,
And Beck with a frightened stare!
'Where's Linda, ' Ben was the first to speak,
And I just froze - he knew!
But Beck said, 'I tried phoning her,
I thought she was with you.'
And then she showed me the frosted cake
She'd worked on all day through,
'It's for your anniversary,
She'd planned a surprise for you! '
I pulled the cell phone out, and stared,
The phone had been my wife's,
My own I'd left in the den downstairs,
That message cost her life.
'It's done! ' meant the anniversary cake,
I hadn't said a word,
Now Ben looked long and hard at me,
'Where's Linda? ' - then he stared!
I said that she must be out somewhere,
Then opened a cask of wine,
Sat back, as Ben filled the tumblers full
I knew, for the final time.
'Here's to your anniversary, '
He said, as we drank the toast,
And I thought I could see by the window there
The shape of my Linda's ghost.
But Beck had choked on the wine, and gasped,
Her mouth a purple hue,
She stared and sighed in a faint surprise
As the truth came into view.
'She's dead, my friend, did you think I'd lend
My wife for the sake of yours?
I knew the play and it ends today,
Where's Linda - Dead? Of course! '
There wasn't another word to say,
We sat and drank in the dark,
With Beck spread over the table like
Some rag doll, left in the park.
I read the anniversary card
That Linda had left for me:
'To the only man I have ever loved...
On our anniversary! '
14 February 2010
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Percys Song
Bad news, bad news,
Come to me where I sleep,
Turn, turn, turn again.
Sayin one of your friends
Is in trouble deep,
Turn, turn to the rain
And the wind.
Tell me the trouble,
Tell once to my ear,
Turn, turn, turn again.
Joliet prison
And ninety-nine years,
Turn, turn to the rain
And the wind.
Oh whats the charge
Of how this came to be,
Turn, turn, turn again.
Manslaughter
In the highest of degree,
Turn, turn to the rain
And the wind.
I sat down and wrote
The best words I could write,
Turn, turn, turn again.
Explaining to the judge
Id be there on wednesday night,
Turn, turn to the rain
And the wind.
Without a reply,
I left by the moon,
Turn, turn, turn again.
And was in his chambers
By the next afternoon,
Turn, turn to the rain
And the wind.
Could ya tell me the facts?
I said without fear,
Turn, turn, turn again.
That a friend of mine
Would get ninety-nine years,
Turn, turn to the rain
And the wind.
A crash on the highway
Flew the car to a field,
Turn, turn, turn again.
There was four persons killed
And he was at the wheel,
Turn, turn to the rain
And the wind.
But I knew him as good
As Im knowin myself,
Turn, turn, turn again.
And he wouldnt harm a life
That belonged to someone else,
Turn, turn to the rain
And the wind.
The judge spoke
Out of the side of his mouth,
Turn, turn, turn again.
Sayin, the witness who saw,
He left little doubt,
Turn, turn to the rain
And the wind.
That may be true,
Hes got a sentence to serve,
Turn, turn, turn again.
But ninety-nine years,
He just dont deserve,
Turn, turn to the rain
And the wind.
Too late, too late,
For his case it is sealed,
Turn, turn, turn again.
His sentence is passed
And it cannot be repealed,
Turn, turn to the rain
And the wind.
But he aint no criminal
And his crime it is none,
Turn, turn, turn again.
What happened to him
Could happen to anyone,
Turn, turn to the rain
And the wind.
And at that the judge jerked forward
And his face it did freeze,
Turn, turn, turn again.
Sayin, could you kindly leave
My office now, please,
Turn, turn to the rain
And the wind.
Well his eyes looked funny
And I stood up so slow,
Turn, turn, turn again.
With no other choice
Except for to go,
Turn, turn to the rain
And the wind.
I walked down the hallway
And I heard his door slam,
Turn, turn, turn again.
I walked down the courthouse stairs
And I did not understand,
Turn, turn to the rain
And the wind.
And I played my guitar
Through the night to the day,
Turn, turn, turn again.
And the only tune
My guitar could play
Was, oh the cruel rain
And the wind.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Awful God
Richard Bryce was a mystery,
He lived on a back street lot,
The house was the old half-timbered sort,
Paint peeled on the old wainscot,
The blinds were drawn through the day and night
And the garden a neighbourhood moan,
Full of the bodies of rusting cars
And creepers, all overgrown.
We rarely saw him out in the street
But he'd peep from the side of blinds,
And stories were told in the neighbourhood
That were often more harsh than kind,
There'd been a wife and a daughter once
But they hadn't been seen in years,
Since the echoing raft of arguments,
Doors slammed, and a flood of tears.
Old Grandpa Bryce had lived in the house
Since thirty odd years before,
He'd worked in the woollen fulling mill
‘Til it closed, just after the War,
His son had drowned in the old mill stream,
Was caught in the paddle wheel,
And Grandpa Bryce was left with the child,
To raise, and be brought to heel.
For Grandpa Bryce was a steely man
Who lived his life by the book,
More like a Prophet, this Abraham
Believed, whatever it took,
That ‘spare the rod and spoil the child'
Would be how that his Grandson learned,
As he laid the rod across Richard's back
‘Til the flesh turned red, and burned.
There was never a ministering angel there
To offer the boy relief,
Only the hard-edged wooden pew
In the church, on a Sunday eve,
And Abraham led the final prayer
In a voice that would damn and blight,
‘Beware you sinners, the Awful God
Will come unseen in the night! '
Richard's mother had died in pain
In the blood of the afterbirth,
She never returned to her home again
But was placed, six foot in the earth,
He never knew of a mother's love,
But only a Grandpa's pain,
And Bryce had ruled the daughter and wife
‘Til they fled one night, in the rain.
The house was suddenly silent then
Just two of them, left alone,
Grandpa suddenly old and frail,
He never went out on his own,
And Richard boarded the windows up
So you couldn't see in from the street,
It looked like an old abandoned place
‘Til the police called round, last week.
We all stood out in the street and watched
As Richard came out of the house,
His hands were cuffed and his hair stood up
And he looked quite down in the mouth,
There must have been twenty cops in there,
All milling around the place,
And one threw up in a paper cup
As we strained to look at his face.
It all came out in a day or two
Just what they had found in there,
The place was sparse, but a giant cross
Stood gaunt in the putrid air,
The skeleton of old Grandpa Bryce
Had been crucified, up tight,
And nailed to his skull: ‘The Awful God
Will come unseen in the night! '
16 September 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Chesterfield King
We stood in your room and laughed out loud.
Suddenly the laughter died and we were caught in an eye to eye.
We sat on the floor and did we sit close. I could smell your thoughts and thought. do you want to touch a lot like me? too scared to say a thing. I left your house and kicked myself. I put those
Ings on a shelf to die. I guess Im not a gambling type but think of what the two of us had lost.
Had lost.
I needed some time to think it out. 7-eleven parking lot. a toothless woman turned and stopped. I gave her a dime and a chesterfield. she leaned down and kissed my cheek. I was scared but it fel
Et.
Felt so sweet.
She asked me if I had a name. I told her I was glued up on some chick. we sat and smoked against the wall.
Drank a beer, felt the chill of fall.
Of fall.
I took my car and drove it down the hill by your house. I drove so fast. the wind it couldnt cool me down, so I turned it around and came back up. you were waiting on your step, steam showing o
Ur breath and water in your eyes. we pulled each other into one, parkas clinging on the lawn and kissed right there.
Said all my chicks they smoke these things and handed you a chesterfield king. held your hand and watched tv and traced the little lines along your palm.
Your palm.
I took my car and drove it down the hill by your house.
I drove so fast.
The wind it couldnt cool me down, so I turned it around
And came back up.
You were waiting on your step, steam showing off your breath
And water in your eyes.
We pulled each other into one, parkas
Clinging on the lawn and kissed right there.
Right there.
song performed by by Face To Face
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Sally's Goodbye
Sally got up early to find what she could wear,
Then brushed her teeth and combed her hair.
She wasn’t going outside to play,
For today was a very special day.
Sally put on her favourite dress and matching headband,
In her favourite colour she looked so beautiful, just as planned.
‘Are you ready? ’ her daddy said
‘Yes Daddy I am, I’m just making my bed.’
She held her Daddy’s hand as they walked to the car
For she knew someone was watching from afar
They got in the car and drove away
Looking at the white clouds, with a touch of grey.
Everyone was there to give her a hug and kiss
She knew it was a day that no one would miss
In her matching headband and blue dress
As she walked through the doors she said god bless.
The place was decorated just like she thought
There was just enough room for the flowers she brought
Sally went up to the front of the room
And she knew that she would see her Mummy soon.
‘Here you are Mummy, I got these for you’
She was wearing her favourite colour, which was blue.
Sally placed the flowers she carried in her basket
With all the others right on top of her Mum’s casket.
Sally was 7 years old and didn’t understand
That her mummy couldn’t see her pretty blue headband
Daddy came up and placed on some flowers
He smiled, looking at Sally, ‘she’ll know they’re ours’.
They took their seat and began to wait
Most guests were seated, some were late.
The minister talked of a woman so beautiful
A wife, a mother and all things wonderful.
Sally asked Daddy if she could say a word
It was the sweetest thing her Daddy had heard.
‘Of course you can, Mummy would be proud,
Just go up there and remember to speak loud.
Sally walked up the front and stood at the pew
She knew everyone could see her in her dress of blue.
With memories in her head and love in her heart
She cleared her throat and began to start.
‘Mummy was so beautiful and so kind,
When I did things wrong, she would never really mind.
Mummy was very sick, and now she’s in heaven
She missed my birthday, because today I’m seven.
I wore our favourite colour today, I hope she can see
I wore a matching headband, it’s nice, I think she’d agree.
Mummy, I will make sure that Daddy will smile
Because I know that we won’t be seeing you for a while
We miss you more each and every day
But I still see you in my own special way.
I close my eyes, and you are there
Smiling back at me with your long blonde hair.
I love you mummy, you’re the best mum to me
I know that this is the way it has to be
Every time I think of you I will smile
And I will see you in heaven, in just a little while.’
Sally sat down with a smile on her face
Daddy held her in a warm embrace.
‘I’m so proud of you’ Said Daddy with a tear in his eye
It’s not forever Daddy, it’s just a short goodbye.
Sally watched her mummy be carried away,
Her head held high she began to pray,
‘Dear god please take care of my mummy,
she will be the most beautiful angel there will ever be’
poem by Kayla Neil
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Woman of Stone
I saw her first by the apple tree
Where she picked the ripe red fruit,
Her auburn hair in a twisted coil
And a crinoline to suit,
I saw her eyes as she turned to me
Two azure pools, afloat;
But they didn't hazard a glance at me,
Not even a single glance at me,
She didn't venture a glance at me
As my song died in my throat!
I lost control of my heart that day
I could neither eat nor drink,
Though I felt my substance fade away
I was too confused to think,
And a fever took me, by and by,
I took to my bed, a week,
But she never came to visit me,
Not even a thought to visit me,
I'd have given the earth to visit me
While my spirit lay so bleak!
She had a million suitors then
And she turned them all away,
They said that the grass was dry and sere
In the meadow, where she lay,
She made it known she was quite content
In life, to be left alone,
She hadn't the need for men, she said,
Not even one special man, she said,
‘I'd rather be left for dead, ' she said;
They called her: ‘Woman of Stone! '
She taunted and teased, quite merciless,
She treated men with contempt,
She'd flutter her painted eyelashes
In the Halls of the Regiment,
And many an Officer fell for her
In his red and his golden braid,
‘I never did like a uniform,
Too bad, you're wearing a uniform! '
She'd turn her back on a uniform
And she'd smile as she walked away.
They said she'd been left at the altar
When she was barely seventeen,
She'd chosen a young subaltern, who
Renewed his vows to the Queen,
His regiment marched away that day
To the fields at Waterloo,
He carried his musket high with pride
Then tramped in mud through the countryside,
His blood was scattered both far and wide
When the battle was finally through!
I started attending the balls where she
Was teasing and taunting still,
I never was much of a dancer, but
I can foot a mean quadrille;
I tried my best to ignore her there,
Danced gaily round with a friend,
Whenever we'd meet, I'd turn away,
Look anywhere else, but not betray
The hints in her eyes or her body's sway,
And I'd leave before the end!
The number of balls was endless when
The soldiers came marching home,
They feted the Duke of Wellington
For beating the Frenchies own;
And still I tried to avoid her there
This Caroline Ainslie Stack,
She'd follow me round the ballroom then,
A dancing card and a thrust out pen
But I wouldn't sign, again and again,
Her eyes turned slowly black.
She caught me up in the village street,
She backed me against a wall,
Then said: ‘It's not a man but a mouse
Won't dance with me at the ball! '
I shrugged and murmured, and took my leave
She followed me all the way home;
I tried to remember the things I said
That night, it rattles on through my head,
I found her lying across my bed
Without a stitch of her own!
We married, back in the spring this year,
Caroline's starting to show,
She holds my arm on the way to church
And she greets with a warm ‘Hello! '
I've never told how I fell in love,
How she cut me, clear to the bone,
But on evenings here, as warm as this
I can taste of my woman's magic kiss,
And she tells me, ‘Dear, we live in bliss! '
She does - my Woman of Stone!
15 March 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Cornishman
The train pulled away from the station,
The driver grinned up at the box,
The signalman glowered at the driver's face
As he slotted the lever across,
The train slid easily through the points
As it blew three whistle blasts,
One for the train, one for the box,
And one for Miss Caroline Glass.
Caroline waved him a cheery farewell
From the cottage she owned on the bank,
She'd once been engaged to the signalman,
But now she'd moved up a rank.
'A driver is such an important man, '
She'd said to her former beau,
'He holds all those lives in his hands when he drives,
And he crosses the country, so.'
'But you - you stand in this signal box,
Pull levers, and ring little bells,
I'd rather be out on the railway track
With the steam blowing over the vales! '
And so it was, there, in the pub one night,
While enjoying the Olde Tyme Dance,
The driver cut in, and he whirled her around
As the signalman watched, askance.
'I'm going to be driving The Cornishman, '
The driver had told her then,
'It's really an honour, the Cornwall Express,
Come down, and I'll show you around.
The coaches are really the latest type,
With cushions, and bright as the sun…'
So Caroline gave back her ring that night,
Then shrugged - said: 'It's been fun! '
The signalman brooded, and wept at night,
To think of his Caroline Glass
Alone in the arms of the driver, Ben,
While he sat alone in the house.
He vowed revenge, but he didn't know
How ever he'd win her back,
She never would look at the signal box
While the train was down on the track.
He watched her boarding The Cornishman
First Class, to travel for free,
At the end of the trip, in a cheap hotel…
The signalman thought he could see,
Just what they would do at the end of the line
And his forehead grew lined and grim,
He nearly went mad at the thought of her
Alone in a bed, with him.
The weeks went by as he shifted points
And pulled at the levers yet,
He heard how the couple were now engaged
And the wedding date was set,
In three short weeks they would tie the knot,
She'd be lost to him for good,
He worked in a fever of misery,
And often wept where he stood.
He crept right up to her cottage light
When The Cornishman was away,
He hoped she'd show him some true remorse,
And ask him, then, to stay;
She laughed, 'Don't come like a creeping dog,
Just say what you have to say…'
He took one look at her curling lip,
Then turned, and slunk away.
'The train had sat in the station, set
To wait 'til the signal changed,
The signalman paced back and forth
In the box, like one deranged,
He stared on down at the driver, Ben,
Who looked back up, and laughed,
His fireman shoveled the coal within,
And opened up the draught.
The northern goods would be right on time,
It had always raced straight through,
The signalman slapped his forehead then,
He knew what he had to do.
He hurriedly pulled the signal off,
Then busied him switching points,
He pulled more levers across that day
Than he's ever pulled there since.
The Cornishman started to pull away,
The driver grinned up at the box,
But then it crossed to the southern line
Though nobody noticed the lapse,
It picked up speed as it left the points
And it blew three whistle blasts,
One for the train, one for the box,
And one for Miss Caroline Glass.
Caroline waved him a cheery farewell
From the cottage called Hollyhocks,
She'd once been engaged to the signalman,
Who glared at her now from the Box.
The Cornishman had reached the bend
When the goods came rumbling down,
And the loco's locked head on that day
With a blasting, grinding sound.
The wagons from the goods derailed,
Came hurtling over the bank,
Loaded with coal and bitumen
With the signalman to thank,
The tiny cottage just disappeared
In a storm of iron and coal,
And Caroline Glass was dead, before
She had waved her last farewell.
The signalman turned pale, dead white,
His heart had all but stopped
When he saw what happened to Caroline Glass
As he stood in the signal box
'A Signalman is important too, '
He said in a maddened fear,
'He holds all those lives in his hands when he pulls
All those levers and bells, my dear.'
8 June 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I’ve Walked the Blade
All my life I’ve walked the blade,
in the sun and in the shade.
The cutting edge is all that separates
the right and wrong that law dictates.
So without doubt I’ve gambled the cut
and up to now pushed my luck.
But now my shady days are done
along with iffy deals and fun.
I’m going down to spend some time
and like J. C. I’ll walk the line.
An exercise yard and a prison cell,
and tough-nut-gays who give you hell.
Prison screws that close their eyes
when things go down unauthorised.
Wardens who have wool stuffed ears
have no time for sob stories or tears.
In the past I’ve had no fear of beast or man,
I’ve chosen my company the best I can,
but here in prison where the nutters roam,
it’s hard to survive in what they call home.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Up In The Attic
I took a room in a boarding house
In a seedy part of town,
I hadn't worked for a month or so
And was feeling rather down,
My girl had left with another guy
Who promised her thrills and rings,
While I could offer her take-away
Among other boring things.
I really felt I was down and out,
The insurance wasn't through,
I'd caught my arm in a roller, and
You know what that can do.
With plaster up to my elbow, I
Could get no sort of work,
So had to exist on the government,
And I felt like a prime jerk.
I'd always been independent
So my pride had taken a hit,
The landlord hurried me out
As soon as the rent was behind a bit,
The boarding house, it was ancient,
A Victorian red brick,
A mansion once, but converted
Into rooms, for the broke, and sick.
I sank in a deep depression,
I could barely go out the door,
Fish and chips was the staple meal
That I bought from the corner store,
I'd slink back in to my tiny room
And eat from the daily news,
The only things of the world outside
That I learned, were the column views.
I'd thought Denise was my passion,
My charm in a mundane life,
I'd thought she'd always be there for me
And asked her to be my wife,
But that was before the accident,
She'd hummed and hah'd, ‘We'll see! '
But set her star on the shiny car
Of the guy who came after me.
I lay and thought of her often,
I thought she was most unkind,
And tried to maintain my anger, but
Could not get her out of my mind.
What made it worse, as a sort of curse
Were the sounds from up above,
The guy, up there in the attic,
Laughing, joking and making love!
The girls tripped up in the evening,
Up the stairs, right past my room,
I heard them giggle and whispering
As I lay there, deep in gloom.
I wondered about the attraction,
Was he rich, this guy, or what?
So why was he there in a boarding house
In an attic - what had he got?
The music came through the ceiling,
I could hear them dancing there,
They kept me awake to the early hours
As I slumped in an old armchair,
They'd come in pairs, or one at a time
And they'd leave, but just on dawn,
After I'd heard the bedsprings creak
And a low, but sultry moan!
He and the landlord were thick as thieves
But I never caught sight of him,
I asked him once, ‘Who's the guy up there?
It sounds like he's running a gym! '
‘Now don't you bother your head, my lad,
He's a friend, and an honoured guest,
He don't take kindly to strangers, so
Just keep to yourself, it's best! '
I started leaving an open door
So I'd see the girls who came,
Dressed to kill in their mini-skirts
They all looked much the same,
One evening, one came very late
When I'd thought I'd have some peace,
She stopped by the door and looked at me,
And I blurted out, ‘Denise! '
She caught her breath and she looked at me
Then hurried on up the stair,
Determined she wouldn't talk to me
As I sat in a mute despair,
I thought at first to follow her
But I slammed the door, said ‘No!
I'm not going to play her silly games, '
But listened from down below.
The music played and I heard her voice,
Her laugh, but soft and sweet,
She certainly had no thought for me
As I slumped there, in defeat.
I heard the bedsprings creak at last
And I knew it was over then,
But she never came down the stairs that night
And I woke, just after ten.
I wanted to turn the light on, but
It seemed to have blown the globe,
I climbed on a chair to change it, and
It flashed, just like a strobe,
Something was dripping along my arm
Sticky, the colour of mud,
I jumped off the chair, and opened the door
To the hallway, it was blood!
I ran up the stairs, two at a time
And I kicked in the attic door,
Denise was naked, such as she was,
She lay, spread out on the floor,
I took out the guy with a single hit
And I looked at the mantelpiece,
For there was a head on a metal spit,
And I cried out, ‘No! - Denise! '
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!