Lalani
I swore, when my wife took off one night
That I'd never love again,
She'd left a note by the candlelight:
'I've been seeing other men! '
I stood in shock, I couldn't move,
Stood rooted to the floor,
And after I'd pulled the blinds, I cried,
Then locked the cottage door.
The love that she'd sworn, just shadows;
The plans that we'd made, just sand,
My life had become a darker place
By the scrawl from a woman's hand.
The cottage was wreathed in silence, it
Was still, like a living tomb,
The only sounds were my echoing steps
As I paced there, in the gloom.
I spent, God! How many weeks? I sat
Just stared at a blank, white wall,
I didn't dare venture out, but drank,
I tried to forget it all,
But then I'd walk at the lonely beach
Where we'd skipped to a lovers tune,
The light of love had been in my eyes
As she'd danced to a harvest moon.
The autumn passed in a drunken haze
The nights were becoming chill,
I warmed myself in the comforting blaze
Of a wood fire on the hill,
But then one night as the breakers crashed
And spent themselves on the reef,
I heard the sounds of a woman's moans
Rise up from the lonely beach.
The storm was whipping the rising crests,
The wind soughed through the trees,
I made my way to the beach, and there
She crawled on her hands and knees,
I picked her up, and carried her back
To the cottage, and there I saw
The sea had savaged her body there,
Dragged over the rocky shore.
There was no clothing of any sort,
Her skin was a pearly white,
But scraped and marred, she was loveliness
As she even bled in the night,
I washed and tended her every cut
And I held my breath in the gloom,
I couldn't believe my fortune there
As she lay in my own front room.
I wrapped her up in a robe, to save
Embarrassment for us both,
She slept content for an hour or two
While I watched, and prayed and hoped,
Then just at dawn, she opened her eyes
Took one brief glance at me,
Then muttered a word, she said, 'La-la...'
Again, said: 'La-lani.'
For days she lay in a fever, and
I fed her on fish and bread,
I tried to get her to talk to me
But she only shook her head,
She'd had a cut on the side of her neck
That had healed, some time before,
But opened up as I stared at it,
So she hid it under her hair.
Within a week she was up and out,
Was dancing along the beach,
She'd smile, and tease me to chase her there,
I laughed, first time for weeks;
She peeled the robe off as she danced,
Came naked into my arms,
Then kissed and smothered me way out there
With all of her womanly charms.
I thought that she might be deaf and dumb,
She never attempted a word,
But showed affection by patting my arm,
By nodding and shaking her head.
The slit on her neck stayed open, and
I looked at the other side,
Where one of the same had marred her skin,
She dropped her eyes, and sighed.
I'd said I never would fall in love
Again, and that was true,
But that was before Lalani,
I was smitten, and that she knew.
I told her then that I wanted her,
Said I loved her more than life,
I didn't care that she couldn't speak,
I'd take her for my wife.
She smiled, but then looked troubled,
Dropped her head down onto her chin,
I found her down at the water's edge
Where the tide was coming in,
She opened her mouth and sang a note
As mournful as the grave,
Like the tone of a bell in a waterspout,
Or an underwater cave.
And there in the shallows rose a man
With skin like a silver fish,
With eyes like a giant halibut,
And teeth for tearing flesh,
He leapt right out of the water,
Seized her arm and dragged her in,
I shouted her name, 'Lalani...'
But they'd gone, and the sea was calm.
In terror, I launched my boat, and revved
The engine out in the bay,
I circled the shallow waters,
Then I headed on out to sea,
I stopped at last, and stared straight down
To the weed on the ocean floor,
It was then that I saw Lalani
Swimming under the surface there.
She floated, feet below me,
Looking up, and she waved goodbye,
The fish man waited down below
As she turned - I thought I'd die!
She sank to the depths, and out of sight,
I knew that she'd gone for good...
I'll burn the cottage one moonless night,
Love's not in my neighborhood!
22 July 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Merman
The wind crept in from the southern gulf
And it rustled through the trees,
As clouds flew over, covered the sun
In some vast conspiracy,
The light was dimmed to an eerie gloom
And the wind began to squall,
Whipping the crests of the breakers up
The length of the Great Seawall.
A single cottage sat at the shore
And it showed a feeble light,
Where Mary D'Arcy sat in the gloom
To peer, in a sudden fright,
For a man rose slowly, out of the sea
His body covered in scales,
And roared like a monster from the deep
Cast up by the winter gales.
‘Come out! Come out! Wherever you are! '
He roared, as he reached the shore,
His eyes were dead in a fish's head
‘Come out for your just reward! '
But Mary's face in the window, lit
By a single candle there,
Was pale and white in her sudden fright,
She could only sit and stare!
The wind began to shriek at the eaves,
The waves crashed over the wall,
And sudden debris littered the beach
That had been so clean before,
Then lightning arced from the surly cloud
And thunder rattled the pane,
Of the glass in the cottage window there,
And then it began to rain.
The size of the rolling breakers grew
And crashed, white foam in their fall,
They vomited up an oil slick
That stuck like glue to the wall,
‘You think you can dump your slime on me, '
He roared, and stood in the foam,
‘You think that you have a bottomless sea,
That bottomless sea's my home! '
The water lapped at the cottage door,
The debris swirled at the rip,
‘I'm giving you back your junk for free
And the wrecks of your sunken ships!
See how you cope with the slime and filth
That you dump on the ocean floor…'
But Mary D'Arcy tightened her lips
And opened the cottage door!
‘Why do you spend your rage on me
When the world out there's to blame?
I'm just a single, innocent soul
On this beach you thought to claim! '
‘For every time you empty your sink
With grease, and bleach, your drain
Runs out to the pristine water's edge -
You're one, but you're all the same! '
The oil poured in, and over the floor,
Dead birds were caught in the slime,
And fish that gasped at their final breath
Lay strewn at the shore's define,
The Merman turned, walked back to the sea
‘I'm putting you to the test!
You've seen what your future shores may be,
You'd better go tell the rest! '
9 August,2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Shadow of Elspeth Brown
The sky was grey on that fateful day,
The sun was going down,
I made my way through a field of hay
To the cottage of Elspeth Brown.
She lived alone by the forest there
And studied her ancient tomes,
Her Grimoires, Necronomicons,
And her hearth was filled with bones!
I'd loved the girl for a year or two
And I'd made my interest known,
She was torn, she said, by the spells in her head,
She needed to be alone.
I knew she was seeing another guy
He called when I wasn't around,
‘He's more like the shade of a ghost, ' she said,
‘I raised him, out of the ground! '
She looked distraught as she waved me in,
Her hair was a tangled mess,
A book that featured some ugly Djin
Lay open across her dress.
I've never been one for the ancient arts
Of Magick, or spells and glooms,
But Elspeth wanted to play her part,
Cast spells in the afternoons!
I saw a copy of Crowley there,
A copy of Dragon Noir,
The Grimoire of Honorius
Was scattered across a chair!
‘What horrible Djin have you raised up
From the terrible realm of hell? '
I laughed, but Elspeth began to frown
And conjured another spell!
‘Three bat-wings and a gouty toad
And a strand of a maiden's hair,
A philtre of deadly nightshade stirred
With the leg of a wooden chair!
A third of a pint of hemlock, gathered
Close to the midnight hour…'
The sun was gone and the bright moon shone
Through the door of my lady's bower!
I thought to say it was nonsense,
Raised my eyes and stared in the gloom,
And there was her patient shadow cast
On the whitewashed wall of the room,
A shadow hand ran up through the hair
So tangled, under her cap,
I looked again at my erstwhile friend,
Her hands were down in her lap!
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck
Rise up, and a breathless chill,
The shadow had suddenly straightened up
My heart was standing still,
Two horns curled out of the shadow's head
Distinct on the further wall,
When Elspeth suddenly screamed, and said:
‘My skin's beginning to crawl! '
She spilled the book on the oaken floor,
Jumped up and looked at the wall,
The shadow that she had claimed for her own
Was suddenly eight feet tall,
It raised its hands in a threatening way
Against all physical laws,
I went to say, in a blank dismay:
‘Those fingers look like claws! '
We rushed together, out of the door,
Her screaming, me in fright,
The moon was rising, up in the sky,
You couldn't tell day from night,
The shadow followed, hard on our heels
And spread out over the ground,
I noticed it wasn't attached to her feet,
But followed with never a sound!
It moved around, ran by her side,
And then I saw it ahead,
She stopped in horror, whatever she'd done,
She'd summoned a Djin from the dead!
‘You'll have to set up an undo spell, '
I knew that she was to blame,
‘I can't, ' she muttered, ‘I don't know how,
He was here before you came! '
She wandered back to the cottage at last,
‘It's only a shadow, ' she said,
‘I shouldn't be worried, it won't hurt me! '
I turned on my heel, and fled!
I'm such a coward with magical things,
I ran full pelt all the way,
Then lay in dread, hid under my bed
‘Til the sun came up, next day!
I finally plucked the courage up
To return to the cottage there,
I stood in the yard, and called on out:
‘Elspeth - come out if you dare! '
A shadow stood in the hallway
And my heart, it turned to stone,
As I read the note on the lintel post,
‘I want to be left alone! '
The sun was high in the morning sky
As I looked on down at my feet,
There wasn't a sign of a shadow there,
My heart then skipped a beat,
For there on the inner whitewashed wall
And beyond the hallway Djin,
I could see two shadows, making love,
But I hadn't the nerve to go in!
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Return of Jonathon Grise
I stood on the porch
Like one in a daze,
And stared at the oak panelled door,
She'd shut it so quietly, there, in my face
That I just couldn't take it on board.
Her face was composed, but determined I knew,
Dismissive, but what could it mean?
The wedding we'd planned for the Spring was no more
Said the love of my life, Annie Deane!
I stumbled on out
In the gathering gloom,
And winter crawled into my heart,
The night was a portent of shadows and doom
As an owl fluttered past in the dark,
Storm clouds were filling the evening sky
And the wind set its wail in the trees,
The name of a monster was echoed out there,
The name of one, Jonathon Grise!
He'd come to the village
On just such a night,
Had stopped at the old village Inn,
The brim of his hat hid his face from the sight
Of the publican, signing him in,
He had an old trunk that he dragged to his room,
A magical symbol on top,
The publican smelt some old incense he burned
So he went up, and told him to stop.
I never was told
What was said when he knocked,
The publican staggered back down,
His face and his hair had turned grey, so they say,
When asked, the old man had just frowned.
He never said anything more on the case,
But bowed when he passed, to keep peace,
I sensed something evil, unclean in the man
That we all knew as Jonathon Grise.
He never went out
In the daytime, we knew,
But pottered about in the dark,
His cloak would be seen flaring out in the wind
As he strode through the trees in the park,
He bought the old cottage that stood by the shore
Moved in, with a rottweiler hound,
We dared not approach, or the dog would come out,
Bare its teeth, and start sniffing around.
He was watched by the locals,
But never approached,
And he never spoke to a soul,
He seemed quite content on his own in the dark
When the nights were both clammy and cold.
Then one foggy night I saw Widow McLean
Walking down to his house from the fells,
She walked in a daze, and her eyes, they were glazed
As she carried her basket of spells.
Long thought to be harmless,
A lonely old witch,
She knocked at his door in the gloom,
Then entered and stayed for an hour or more
Concocting her spells in his room,
I asked how she knew him, the mystery man
On the following day in the square,
She shivered, looked frightened, and held up one hand,
'I never was... never was there! '
Barely a month had
Gone by since the gloom
Of rejection had landed on me,
The heart that had loved had turned into a tomb
For the love that had set us both free.
Then rumours were whispered that in the Great Hall
The banns had been read and released,
The banns for the wedding of my Annie Deane
With that horror called Jonathon Grise!
My mind couldn't take it,
I tore at my hair,
I ripped at my coat and my shirt,
I drank a whole bottle of whisky off straight
In the hopes it would kill off the hurt,
I wondered how long since the two of them met,
And drunkenly swore my revenge,
I set off to squeeze all the truth from the throat
Of the visiting Widow from Henge.
She screamed when she saw me
Burst in through her door,
I looked like a figure from hell,
What spell had she cast there for Jonathon Grise?
She finally said she would tell.
'The man is pure evil, I met him before,
I met him before you were born,
He came on the night of a westerly gale,
Cast out from a Barque in the storm.'
'I think he deserted,
He wore seaman's clothes,
He never went back to the sea,
He married a woman, and left her in child,
A woman you'll never believe! '
'Just try me, ' I snarled, 'so he's done it before,
And now thinks he'll do it again! '
'Ah yes, but that happened when I was a child,
I couldn't have been more than ten! '
I stopped in my tracks
And I looked at her face,
The Widow was wrinkled and old,
She must have been seventy-seven or eight,
I felt all my innards run cold.
'You must be mistaken, this Jonathon Grise
Must only be thirty or so...'
'The man is the same, ' said the Widow, 'his name
Is the Sailor Who Never Grows Old.'
I sat for a moment
To gather my thoughts,
'You say that he married close by? '
'Ah yes, that he did, but the woman he wed,
In the churchyard, now, she lies! '
'Just tell me her name and I'll leave you in peace, '
I replied, with a portent of fear,
'Her name was Helene, and the child Richard Deane,
Your Annie's Great Grandfather, dear! '
I dropped like a thunderbolt
Onto the hearth,
I couldn't stand up for my life,
The devil had spawned the Great Grandfather
Of the woman he'd have for his wife.
My heart, it burst, and a thousand tears
Came flooding from deep within,
There must be a way to send Jonathon Grise
Back down to the devil's kiln.
I sat with the Widow
For thirteen days,
We read every spell in her book,
On the morning before Annie's wedding bells rang
She tossed all her charms in the brook.
'You said he deserted a ship once, at sea,
Do you have a drowned sailors spell? '
Her eyes had gleamed, old Widow McLean
As she lifted a caul from the well.
That night the moon
Stayed in, and hid,
The stars, they gave up their lease,
A mist came rolling on in from the sea
To the cottage of Jonathon Grise,
A groaning and creaking of timbers and masts
And the plash of the oars then grew,
The longboats, sent from the ghostly Barque
Rowed in with a ghostly crew.
They dragged him swearing
Away to the beach,
He cursed at the Barquentine,
They threw him into a longboat there,
And then he began to scream,
I watched as the ghostly sailing ship
Hove to in the rising swell,
While Jonathon hung from the yardarm there
At last, on his way to Hell.
28 January 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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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
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The Stoker
His eyes could pierce my very soul
His scowl could match my frown,
His hatred seemed to lurk beneath
The coal dust on his brow,
The stoker of the 'Antic Queen'
Was sallow, hollow-cheeked,
A voice that echoed, like the clang
Of echoes, from the deep.
He worked the vessel's engine room
Built up a head of steam,
He sprayed each layer of coal across
Like someone in a dream,
It glowed white-hot, he'd slam the door
And cast his shovel clear,
'A pox upon you, Derek Sloane, '
He'd call, when I was near.
I'd make believe I didn't hear,
Go through the bulkhead door
And make my way back up on deck,
I'd heard it all before.
His wife had tired of all his moods
Had eyed me through the crowd,
She'd left the stoker for me then,
The lissom Ann O'Dowd.
She'd always had a roving eye
I knew that from the start,
But reason has no part to play
When love attacks your heart.
We'd had a month of jollity
She'd wrecked my only bed,
When I went back to sea
The lovely Ann had filled my head.
We'd only been at sea a day
When I was sent below,
To see why steam in number two
Was building up so slow,
And then it was I saw O'Dowd,
I'd thought him still ashore,
Or coaling on another ship
En route to Singapore.
He came up to my cabin once
His shift was at an end,
And told me he had plans for Ann,
A coffin for a friend,
Then leered and sneered, 'I've said enough,
But you remember this,
Your Ann's as good as dead, old chum,
Before you leave this ship! '
I brooded on his words for days,
There wasn't any phone,
I couldn't use the radio
Without it being known,
I couldn't tell the Captain as
He wouldn't understand,
I had no proof of anything
That Tom O'Dowd had planned.
We hit the Bay of Biscay and
A fog came rolling in,
You couldn't see a dozen yards
Around the 'Antic Queen',
We cut our speed to seven knots
And edged on through the murk,
The foghorn sounded off and on
The sky was getting dark.
All that night we kept a watch
Until at early light,
A tanker nosing through the fog
Came steaming, out of sight,
She hit us just behind the bridge
And buckled plates without,
I rushed down to the engine room
To put the fires out.
O'Dowd was lying on the coal,
All covered in its dust,
The sea was pouring in too fast
To leave it all to trust,
I swung the heavy metal door
And sealed it from the tide,
O'Dowd jumped up and hit the door,
With terror in his eyes.
He screamed at me to open it,
I watched him through the port,
But regulations told me
To do nothing of the sort,
The ship was the important thing
And sometimes men must die,
But secretly, I smiled within
For Ann was safe and dry.
O'Dowd stood back and stared at me,
And realised his fate,
His wicked eyes stared through me
As the water lapped his feet;
I couldn't hear, but I could see
Him mouth two words of note,
He shouted 'parcel bomb', and drew
His hand across his throat.
The water rose, washed him away
I raced up to the deck,
The ship was listing badly
It would shortly be a wreck,
We got the lifeboats out by chance
Along the starboard side,
And drifted out as 'Antic Queen'
Turned turtle, rose and dived.
Three days it took to get on home
I couldn't contact Ann,
She wasn't answering the phone,
I took a cab, I ran,
I saw the note hand scribbled there
That lay, it seemed like hours,
To read that Ann decided she'd
Be true to all her vows.
She'd gone back to O'Dowd, she said,
Her husband, right or wrong,
I'd be all right, she said, I'd find
Some woman; just be strong.
I raced around to where O'Dowd
Had lived in Ratton Place,
The wall had blown out in the street,
Of Ann, there was no trace.
He'd left a bunch of flowers there,
A present tightly wrapped,
A note to tell his darling wife
That he would take her back;
She must have opened it, I think
A smile, a look serene,
O'Dowd had laughed the final laugh,
Down in the 'Antic Queen'.
20 March 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wattle & Daub
She lived right next to the forest
In a cottage of wattle and daub,
A roof of bark and a floor of dirt
With a whisk of milk, absorbed,
Her man had died of a heart attack
For over a year, he'd gone,
Had left her to fend for herself out there
In the shade of a ghostly gum.
He lay right under a stringy bark,
She'd dug the grave herself,
Had made a cross with her loving hands
Deep planted at his head,
On lonely nights she would sit out there
And whisper him under the stars,
'Oh Jim, where now are your strong, brown hands,
Where now are your loving arms? '
She didn't cry, for she couldn't cry
For her heart had turned to stone,
Her love was buried and six feet down
With crumbling flesh and bone,
Her eyes were hard as the hardest flint,
Her lips a fine white line,
And when the stars came out at night
She would look for the slightest sign.
She looked for a heaven beyond the stars,
She looked for the eyes of God,
She knew that he watched her as she slept,
He watched where her steps had trod,
She prayed for her days to end in peace
And soon, for she was alone,
She carved a notch in the mantelpiece
Each day, since her love had flown.
She bucketed water from the creek
That trickled on past her door,
It once was a raging river bed
But that had been back, before...
Before a neighboring farmer dammed,
And quelled the flowing stream,
Had turned her husband's protests down
With a sneer, and words obscene.
Her Jim had worked then twice as hard
To irrigate his feed,
The cattle had died in the summer months
On the parched ground of their need,
He worked from the time the sun came up
To the time that the stars came out,
And in the end, collapsed and died
From the toil of a man-made drought.
The farmer up by the dam had said
That he'd take her land for free,
She'd never be able to stay out there
Alone, she would turn and flee,
Then he would double his pasture
And would open the dam to flood,
And let his cattle to roam abroad
By the cottage of wattle and daub.
Now during the long drawn evenings
And deep in the forest's shade,
She could hear strange noises, threatening,
As they howled across the glade,
She loaded the shotgun Jim had left,
And kept it inside the door,
She'd not be driven from off the land
Where her husband lay, forlorn.
One night a shadowy figure came
Strode out of the darkening wood,
Crossed the creek in the evening mist
In a cape with a long black hood,
It howled and jittered like one possessed
She opened the cottage door,
Then blanched as she saw it light a torch
And the flames begin to roar.
She went to reach for the shotgun then
But a hand caught fast her wrist,
Lifted the gun and pointed it,
She stood with her hand on her breast,
Her heart was pounding, her legs were weak
As she watched the phantom stand,
He shrieked in fear as he saw the gun
In a strong, brown pair of hands.
The blast took one of his legs clean off,
The phantom fell with a scream,
The shotgun dropped to the earthen porch
She thought it a crazy dream,
She turned to look for the strong brown hands
That she knew as well as her own,
But the porch was clear, and she felt no fear
For her husband had come home.
The dam was breached in a minute or so,
The torrent then flooded down,
Washed the remains of the farmer to
The lowlands, where he drowned,
She went out back and buried the gun
With a smile in her eyes, like stars
Looked up to the skies, and saw God's eyes
And round her, two loving arms!
4 June 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One-Sided Conversation
She sat, head bent,
In her old, grey chair,
The blinds were pulled and drawn,
The shadows caught
In the gathering gloom,
But she moved not at all;
Her husband, stood by the old oak door
He'd cleared his throat to speak,
'You wanted to see me, then, ' he said,
A pallor upon his cheek.
She knew, he thought,
She knew full well
His cheating, shiftless ways,
He'd married her more for her money
Than for her wit, her charm or grace.
She'd warned him once
She'd warned him twice,
She'd said that he made her sick,
Now he was the one who was feeling ill
As she still refused to speak.
'I 'spect you want
Me gone, ' he said,
And waited for some response,
She sat, head bent in her favourite chair
As he stood there, like a dunce.
'I need some money,
A thousand pounds,
Will get me out of a fix.'
The way she sat, and stared at the floor
Meant: 'No, I'll give you nix.'
He mopped his forehead
With trembling hands,
The sharks were closing in,
If she didn't come to his rescue, well,
He'd seen what they'd do to him…
'I beg you, think
Of your own good name, '
But she wasn't listening then,
Her face was grim, she stared at the floor,
With nothing left for him.
He went to a drawer
And took a gun,
Then held it up to his head,
'I'd never have thought you could be so cruel
To the man who shares your bed.'
The air grew chill
In the silent room
As he let out a plaintive cry,
The shot rang out, but she didn't move
As he fell to the floor, and died.
The doctor came,
And the police, of course,
But the wife still sat and stared,
The husband lay on the bloodstained rug
As if she'd never cared.
'It's very odd, '
Said the sergeant then,
But the Doctor suppressed a laugh,
'He's only been dead for an hour, ' he said,
'She's been dead for an hour and a half.'
9 April 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Saw A Man And He Danced With His Wife
I was by myself drinkin'
Chilled lonely wine
Then he walked in with some woman
Who's place was once mine
And she wore his ring on her finger
And the band began a song
I'd heard before
[Chorus:]
I saw a man and he danced with his wife
How I wished he was dancing with me
'Cause I remember before
When we danced on this floor
His eyes were only on me
Where did I go wrong
They were playin' our song
While I was cryin' all night long
I kept watchin' as they dance so divine
I kept hopin' kept on lookin'
But I couldn't catch his eye
Oh, then he got up and he saw me
But he just walked right on by
And danced with her
[Chorus]
Where did I go wrong
They were playin' our song
While I was cryin' all night long
Two weeks later
I heard a knock on my door
He's back
Just like all those good time before
Ah, then he kissed me
And he told me
I left her 'cause I love you,
So much more than I knew
[Chorus]
I saw a man and he danced with his wife
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Judith and You and A Morning Mist
The morning mist
that hung over
the pond (or your lake
as Judith called it)
had moved away
by the time she came
and stood next to you
wrapped up in her
Sunday best
waiting until the time
for the bus to take
you both to sing
in the church
her breath flowing out
on the air
like cigarette smoke
her eyes focused
on the skin
of the still water
I dreamt of you
last night
she said
you and I
were snuggled
together in my bed
having made love
you watched
a magpie take flight
over the water
nice
wish I could
have been there
in person
you said
more breath
left her lips
and rose upwards
maybe next time
you can
she said
turning her head
spreading her lips
into a smile
just be my luck
your mother
will invade the dream
and catch us
you said
yes
Judith said
that would
spoil the dream
some what
there was a mist
over the pond earlier
you said
it looked beautiful
she turned
and stared
over the water
I missed that
as you missed
making love to me
in my dream
she whispered
drawing closer
her hands
taking hold
of yours
what did you
dream about?
she asked
an empty bed
and cold sheets
and a space
where you should
have been
you said
she smiled
and said
I couldn't be
in both beds
at once could I?
once more
there was the rising
of her breath
you couldn't tell her
you'd seen
an image
of her death.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Looking for Encouragement in ICU
He's gone
I never saw him go
Surprised that he fell
I thought he would get up
At first he looked like he'd be OK
He was upset that he'd slipped
Confused that the legs hadn't held
The strength that steadied
The foot and braced the legs
Held at the smoker in 1932
When three solid lefts
Couldn't take him down
Held when the Hammond trim saw kicked
Held on the wet rocks of Redwood Creek
When the salmon jumped and were on
Held splitting a second cord of wood
While after loading the first
I thought I needed a break
Now when he needed it most
They didn't hold they gave
Yet he somehow still held on
Over the ledge I could see him there
He was pulling himself up
Or at least I wanted him to
I tried to talk to him
I got his attention
He silently shook his head
The same as when we hunted
When I thought I had a clear shot
And he knew I didn't
He always challenged me
No matter what I did
To be a better shot
'We're not out here to wound
Chase down a revine then
Drag bloodshoot venison through the brush.
We're out here to put meat on the table.'
He also knew when to fish
And where the quail hid
He always encouraged me
To know what I was doing
Before I did it
'Its real important you learn
The difference between your ass
And a hole in the ground.'
Was his way
Of putting it
I knew what he meant
Shaking his head I recognized his signal
I still wanted to help even though
I couldn't have gotten to him anyway
Then he stopped trying
The strength and gruffness were gone
I was mad at him
For the tears in his eyes
For not trying
For knowing more than me
He knew there was no way up
The others calling to him
Were of no use
I knew then what he wanted
To push away from the side
To be over and done with it
He was caught tangled held back
He couldn't even let go
When he wanted to
I looked and he was there
I couldn't help
I didn't want to watch
I looked again
He was gone
I never saw him go
poem by Tom J. Mariani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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The Monster & Captain Kreel
We were out in the North Atlantic
When the storm began to blow,
We reefed in the tops and gallants so
We wouldn't end down below,
The ship was tossed in a fury,
The mate was strapped to the wheel,
There wasn't a dry man left aboard,
Not even Captain Kreel.
The Captain, he was a bully,
He would flog 'til his arm was sore,
He drove the men at their stations 'til
They couldn't have taken more,
He kept a rope at the yardarm,
A warning to every man,
His word was not to be questioned if
A tar didn't want to hang!
Each wave was a liquid mountain
That crashed on the after deck,
The wind was a screaming banshee that
Would threaten, despair and wreck,
When out from below there came a scream,
A woman, so fair of face,
But the Captain swore an ugly oath
That the ship was in disgrace!
The wife of an able seaman,
He'd smuggled the girl aboard,
He'd thought he could keep her hidden there
Until they went ashore,
But the men with their superstitions
Then blamed her for the storm,
They seized her, dragged to the gunnels
And would hurry her overboard!
The Captain barked out an order,
The jack tars staggered back,
They wouldn't defy their Captain if
The ship was under attack!
The mate then seized the woman
And bared her at the breast,
Turned her to face the heaving sea
As she stood there, half undressed.
Bare breasted, like the figurehead
They carried on the prow,
A woman was known to calm the seas
If she shamed its gods somehow,
The wind died down in the stays and yards
And the sea died down as well,
But she little knew as she covered up
She approached the gates of hell!
The seaman was court-martialled,
Up there, on the quarter deck,
Where the Captain gave no quarter,
It was keel haul, or his neck!
They tied the rope around his chest
And flung him overboard,
We heaved on the rope, and prayed he'd hold
His breath 'til he came aboard.
We dragged him under the water,
And felt him under the keel,
The rope was a little bit lighter
Than the brow of Captain Kreel,
For he was a livid monster
Who just wanted the seaman dead,
His plans for the wife were plain to see
As he sent her to his bed!
The seaman's body surfaced,
It wasn't going well,
We hauled him over the side of the ship
'Til we caught a glimpse of hell,
The rope was knotted about his chest
And twisted around his neck,
There was nothing at all below the waist,
As his entrails sprayed the deck!
Even the Captain blanched at this
But he motioned us away,
'Toss the remains all overboard
Then swab the decks - Belay! '
We wondered how Jones was cut in half,
It couldn't have been the keel,
But kept our mutterings to ourselves,
For fear of the monster, Kreel.
Out on the starboard side we saw
A giant head appear,
Just as the body hit the waves
It reared, and sniffed the air,
Then pounced on the human morsel,
Picked it up in its savage jaw,
As we shrank on back at its evil eye
It gave out a primitive roar.
There wasn't a moment from then on
We weren't all chilled inside,
The monster followed and circled us
As we rode the heaving tide,
It must have been eighty feet or more,
A great, carnivorous beast,
The serpent had tasted human flesh
And we were a human feast!
The wind had dropped, the sails were limp,
We couldn't sail for home,
We were caught in the theme of a nightmare dream
Where the beasts of the world could roam,
The Captain kept to his cabin then,
We could hear the woman plead,
With a monster within, a monster without
We were caught in a monstrous creed.
'It's all the fault of that woman there! '
I knew what the ratings thought,
'We need to be throwing her overboard
To escape the luck she brought! '
The mate came down and roused them out,
'There'll be no talk of this,
We have to get under sail tonight
When the wind begins to rise.'
The Captain showed on the quarter-deck
Just after the seventh bell,
The sun was down in the west, the moon
Was riding high, as well.
We raised the sails as the shadows loomed,
Unfurled topgallant stays,
I was watching the Captain against the moon
His back to the after rail.
The serpent's head loomed large above
The figure of Captain Kreel,
The hairs rose up on the back of my neck
As I watched the shadows steal.
It opened up with its mighty jaw
Clamped down on the Captain's head,
Lifted him clear of the quarter deck
As he screamed - 'Oh God! I'm dead! '
We never saw Captain Kreel again,
But nobody seemed to care,
We sailed for the Falkland Islands then,
And we left the woman there,
I heard she married again, sometime,
To a sailor known as Kip,
And dreams of her home in Pompey, but -
They won't let her onto a ship!
24 December 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eyes Of Mr D (Part 4)
Entering the flat
the Constable found no one there.
He searched every room,
nothing, only the fired gun on a note
left on the table.
He had noticed the back window
was left slightly ajar.
He picked up the note
and quickly read it through,
then put it in his pocket
along with the gun.
He smiled to the neighbour
as he left the flat.
He told her to lock it;
Mr D would be coming back.
At the car he got in
saying that,
they had to go back
to the station.
He sat on a bench
near the waters edge.
The white walking stick
resting between his legs.
He could not look at his watch,
as that would give the game away.
A blind man is not supposed to see,
so he had no idea of the time.
All he could tell
that day was turning into night.
He stood up;
he had to stretch his legs.
He moved along to
the bench by the bridge.
The dark waters of the lake,
lapped against the shore.
Then he heard the footsteps
walking across the wooden bridge.
He knew by the sound
they were of a woman’s shoe.
He did not look up
to see who it was,
just listened, as they got closer,
until they were in front of him.
He could now see her face,
under the light of the moon.
Her hair was dark,
and danced on her shoulders.
He wanted to say something,
but though he better not.
The killer could be lurking,
in the bushes somewhere,
waiting for his chance,
when he thought
the coast was clear.
She stopped and stood,
near the waters edge;
she watched the moon’s silver finger
dance on the breeze-ruffled waves.
He sat unnoticed except
for his white walking stick.
The blind could see nothing
at least that is what he hoped
anyone passing would think.
Then from the darkness, he emerged.
A mask of death he wore.
He moved quietly up behind the woman,
extended his hands out to her neck.
To be concluded……
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tall Story
There was a knock on my front door, an angel stood outside!
I looked in shock, dropped to the floor, the door still opened wide.
The angel sighed and then flew in and put the kettle on,
Aware our talk would soon begin when fainting spells had gone.
The tea was ready there for me, he pointed to the cup.
So I drank my hot tea slowly, until that time was up.
He pointed to the living room, where both of us sat down,
My mind still felt a sense of doom and gloom sure makes you frown.
The angel told me, 'Get a pen and get some paper, too! '
So I stood up, right there and then, this very thing to do.
'Write down the words that I recite, when done, I'll have to leave.'
When I began, my face was white and I could hardly breathe.
He took his time and so did I, for twenty pages long,
When done, I heaved a quiet sigh... Were my words right or wrong?
He read it all and was impressed, 'Well done, I'll leave it here.
Please get it published. Do your best. The meaning's crystal clear.'
Then he stood up, walked to the door and so I let him go.
He said, 'God bless! ' and then no more, what more was there to know?
He flew away, past roofs and trees and reached the nearby hill
And soared up higher with such ease, yes, higher, higher still.
When my scanner scanned the pages, it left me quite perplexed,
As it must have taken ages to recognise the text.
I emailed every single word, my publisher replied,
He said he'd never been so stirred, I must've been inspired.
Of course, I couldn't tell him then! He'd get me locked away!
'I met this angel, ten foot ten, at home, this very day! '
So I kept quiet, private like... The published work sold well.
I bought a laptop and a bike, but one day, off I fell.
No guardian angel raised alarm that ice was on the road,
When I fell off, I broke my arm and said, 'Well, I'll be blowed.'
When I got home, I made the tea, got fish and chips that night
And got in bed quite carefully, then prayed with all my might!
The angel knocked upon my door, I sighed then let him in.
This time, because I knew the score, I chose not to begin.
'I'll use the laptop, type it out, then save the text that way.'
The angel looked at me so proud, God's wisdom to relay.
'Well done, please get it published soon! ' I walked him to the door,
He healed my arm, flew past the moon, I waved to him with awe.
That angel's words were good as gold, he certainly had skill.
It's only now my story's told... Make of it what you will...
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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S.o.s.
(They found her body right under the stairs
Where it had lain for twenty years,
The neck was broken, I heard folks say -
'Too late! ' was the verdict of Gallows Bay) .
* * * *
I'd heard dark things of Samuel Pell,
He drank too much and was far from well,
But he walked the beach in the early morn,
Especially after a gale, or storm.
He checked the flotsam as in it swirled
Into the bay from the seas of the world,
All the jetsam he'd pile up high,
And check each mark, with many a sigh.
But never a word did I hear him speak
From the crack of dawn to the end of the week,
And then he'd hurry on home once more
Where he'd bar his window and lock his door.
He lived in a three-roomed beachside shack
With a lookout room that he'd built out back,
And up to that room he would creep at nights,
With the curtains drawn, you could still see lights.
Red lights, yellow, and some were green
They'd blink and change with a squeal, a scream,
And over all was a dreadful hum
As the world swirled through his solarium.
Towering over the roof, at last
Was a big, old fashioned radio mast,
And folks would grumble in Gallows Bay
'Old Pell's up talking to Mandalay.'
The folks who knew him from times before
Would shake their heads, but would say no more,
For everyone knew that his only son
Was lost at sea when the war was on.
And Pell had been on the Ham that day,
An S.O.S. from a world away
Came tumbling over the ocean's swell
From His Majesty's Ship, the 'Camberwell.'
So Pell had alerted the Naval Base
As the tears streamed over his cheeks, his face,
His fingers flew on the dit-dit-dit
'Til his fingers bled, and his eyes were lit.
But somewhere, in the Atlantic swell
The bow went down of the 'Camberwell',
She slid so silently into the deep,
Carried his son to eternal sleep.
Carried him down with the ship, distressed
Where a sailor's duties are put to rest,
While Pell sat there with his headphones on
His wife had cursed him to hell and beyond.
And then she'd gone, one lonely night
Had left the bay and the daily fight,
Just walked, he'd said, with never a word
Though whether she had, he wouldn't have heard.
For twenty years he'd listened first
To the chatter of Morse at a hundred Hertz,
Then clattered his key to the whole world round:
'Has HMS Camberwell ever been found? '
I watched him, suddenly old and grey
As he walked the beach in his aimless way,
And heard them talk in the old Bar One's,
'I'm hearing that Pell has Parkinson's! '
He stiffened up, and he slowed his walk,
His shoulders hunched, and he couldn't talk,
He beckoned, come to his room up there,
He needed help just to climb the stair.
His hands were trembling on the key,
I knew Morse Code as well as he,
His fingers trembled, he made mistakes
With the dits and dahs, and the sentence breaks.
But in his eyes was the strangest light
Like a man who's suddenly proven right,
He handed over the headphones then
And smiled at me like an old, old friend.
I heard the chatter repeat, and then
Begin the message all over again,
It said: 'Keep listening here, it's true,
For soon I'm coming on home for you! '
The Morse was echoing in and out
Like a message sent from a waterspout,
It waxed and waned, and said: 'It's true!
Old man... I'm coming on home for you! '
He took the headphones, took the key
Was calm at first, more calm than me,
Then tapped a message I could not guess,
Old Pell was tapping an S.O.S.
For then a sound like I'd never heard,
Such beating, just like the wings of a bird,
Old Pell fell back on the old arm rest,
His heart was beating right out of his chest.
His heart was beating, his fingers tapped,
The dits and dahs, they flew, he rapped,
But coming over the headphone swell,
The message was signed - 'HMS Hell! '
He groaned, stared right in my eyes, in fright
His jaw had dropped and his face was white,
He died, and I thought that his soul was free
Though his fingers kept tapping the paddle key.
The paddle key, still tapped in my head,
For minutes then after Pell was dead,
And still I heard - and this I must stress -
The key kept tapping out S.O.S.
9 October 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tattooed Man
He looked like a common sailor
As he wandered up from the port,
Carried his swag on his shoulder,
Wore a cap of the jaunty sort,
His eyes were livid and bloodshot,
Staring, under a tattooed brow,
And on his cheeks, a scatter of stars
As seen from an old ship's prow.
He stopped at the Mariners Arms
And bought a room on the upper floor,
Went out and stood on the balcony,
And stared on down at the square,
He'd left his shirt in the tiny room,
His torso, full in view,
There wasn't an inch of his sailor skin
Untouched by a bright tattoo.
His arms were covered in serpents
Writhing up, and under his chin,
His shoulders, Chinese Characters,
Of Ports, where he might have been,
His sides were covered in fungi
Found in tropical forest glades,
And down on his muscular midriff
The ubiquitous Queen of Spades.
And there on his chest in colours
Very subtle, and so refined,
There lay a naked woman
Baring all as she lay reclined,
Her lips were coloured in scarlet gloss
And pursed in a sensual pout,
Her eyes a searching, brilliant blue
That would find her lover out.
He turned away from the village square
And rested back on the rail,
So now the tattoos across his back
Could be seen... a Schooner's sail,
With storm-filled clouds and a rising swell
As the breakers slid on by,
And over the top, above it all
A piercing, staring eye!
For every passer-by that stared
The eye had stared them back,
Had stared right into the guilty soul
Where every sin was black!
And hairs rose up on the back of the neck,
And shivers ran down the spine,
As guilt drove men to the 'Man of War'
To drown their fears in wine!
And I... I came to the Mariners Arms
And I saw the tattoos there,
And the woman, bared on the sailor's chest
Made me quake and shake in fear,
For the face was unmistakable,
I had left her safe at home,
That face of lust was the woman I trust,
Was the wife I knew as Joan.
For days the sailor prowled the streets
And he peered through windows there,
But he never wore a shirt nor coat,
And he kept his torso bare,
The tattoos seemed to come to life
As he moved, they moved with him,
I saw the serpents flickering tongues
Reach out, and under his chin!
And from his back, the eye stared out
Made strong men weak and quail,
Their knees gave way as it stared them down
And they felt their courage fail,
Then Joan saw him in the market place,
And stood there, hypnotized,
As she stared at the face on the sailor's chest,
And he pierced her, with his eyes.
I saw her enter the Mariners Arms
And I tried to call her back,
But she walked like one in a crazy dream
And I heard her call him, 'Jack...'
They disappeared up the stairway,
Made their way to the upper floor,
I had raced to the top of the stairs when they
Went in, and locked the door.
Out in the street, the clouds rolled in
And the sea beat up on the shore,
The rain came down in a torrent,
Lightning flashed at the old Inn door,
Then he came out on the balcony,
Turned round, and showed his back,
Clung to the mast of the Schooner
There was a woman, dressed in black!
I followed the sailor down the street
In the wind and the pouring rain,
As lightning lit the storm on his back
And the woman screamed in pain,
But on his chest was an open space
And the eye had stared me down,
As he boarded a battered Schooner,
And then sailed away from the town!
24 August 2010
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cliff House
When the sun has set in the wintertime
And I'm all alone in this grey old house,
I bolt the shutters and pull the blinds
And set a spark to the candlewax;
The wind runs howling about the eaves,
The shutters chatter, the wind-cock spins,
The breakers clatter and clash below
As my world returns to me, widdershins.
It's then that I hear my mother's voice
So faint at first in the storm outside,
She sighs and moans, and I hear her plead
The length and breadth of the countryside.
Her voice soughs out from the aspens near,
Quivers in ferns and rocks, as if
No year that followed has spent her need
For still she sobs at the edge of the cliff.
Her voice comes whispering under the door
I plug my ears and I cry out loud:
'Leave me, mother, you worked your will,
You earned your fee of a graveyard shroud! '
Still she mutters and moans for him
The shape that darkened our outer door,
Whenever my father was not around
I'd hear his steps on the oaken floor.
Then I'd be sent to my lonely room
And told to play as she locked me in,
Her eyes were bright and her tone was gay
As she breathless, left for her wayward sin.
I heard them laugh in the room above,
The steady beat as they rocked the bed,
And then he'd bellow, and she would scream
As I pulled the covers right over my head.
On winter nights she would pace the floor,
Impatient then, and she'd peer outside,
Men with torches were on the beach
And I'd hear them curse at the rising tide.
But then I'd peek through my window shades
To see them marching up over the hill,
Carrying barrels and flagons of wine
To the village, seen from my window-sill.
She caught me once and she screamed in fright,
'You never, never must look, you see!
Those men are phantoms, they're only ghosts
From wrecks aground on the outer key.'
Then later came the knock at the door,
I saw the shadow, the wide brimmed hat,
And as she turned the key in the lock,
I heard her whisper, and sigh: 'Oh Jack! '
I asked her once who the stranger was
Who came so late, it was awful queer,
'It's always dark when he comes to call,
He never comes when my father's here.'
My mother grimaced, and turned quite pale
Then said, 'he brings us our victuals, son,
Tea and coffee, sugar and salt,
And a bushel of wheat and barleycorn.'
One day, a team of Revenue Men
Were waiting there in the cove below,
A gale was blowing, the breakers crashed,
I woke when the early rooster crowed.
Then lights and men in a mad melee
And a gun went off and a scream of pain,
I watched as they marched them over the hill,
A line of phantoms encased in chain.
My mother ran from the open door,
Out to the windswept cliff she fled,
I heard her moan as she looked on down
At the figure that lay on the beach, stone dead.
My father followed her, looking grim
As he stood behind in the driving rain,
But mother fell to her knees, and wailed
Like a banshee whirled in a pit of pain.
I left the window, I crossed the room,
I took the stairs at a run that day,
The door lay open to morning gloom
I raced on out in the pouring rain.
But over toward the edge of the cliff
I could see my father, looking down,
Mother lay on the beach below, while
All my father could do was frown.
I'll never know if she jumped that day
To join the shape that lay dead on the beach,
Or whether my father pushed her there,
A love long dead, that was out of reach.
He cried no tears, that I recall
When they buried them both in a hillside grave,
But followed them after a year and a day,
Slashed his throat in the old church nave.
Years have gone, and I prowl the house,
Perched on the edge of this dreadful cliff,
I dare not leave, for my mother's cries
Blow in and out from the storm swept reef.
But late on wintry nights the sound
Of those heavy steps on the oaken floor,
A shadow passes my room at night
And my mother sighs, and I hear no more.
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Saw A Man & He Danced With His Wife
I was by myself drinkin
Chilled lonely wine
Then he walked in with some woman
Whos place was once mine
And she wore his ring on her finger
And the band began a song
Id heard before
Chorus:
I saw a man and he danced with his wife
How I wished he was dancing with me
cause I remember before
When we danced on this floor
His eyes were only on me
Where did I go wrong
They were playin our song
While I was cryin all night long
I kept watchin as they dance so divine
I kept hopin kept on lookin
But I couldnt catch his eye
Oh, then he got up and he saw me
But he just walked right on by
And danced with her
Chorus
Where did I go wrong
They were playin our song
While I was cryin all night long
Two weeks later
I heard a knock on my door
Hes back
Just like all those good time before
Ah, then he kissed me
And he told me
I left her cause I love you,
So much more than I knew
Chorus
I saw a man and he danced with his wife
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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