Madelaine Mann
'Pass me my pearl handled brush, and my comb, '
She had said, as she gazed at the glass,
The child had obeyed, though he shuffled and moaned
As he pulled at his pretty pink dress.
'Be still with you, child! Learn some patience and grace,
Wipe that scowl off your face - do you hear?
Just be a good girl, and I'll powder your face,
Tie ribbons up high in your hair.'
The boy bit his lip, and he stared at his aunt
In the mirror; she simpered and smiled,
Her lips were so thin and so twisted in sin
Though she thought she was beauty, beguiled.
The eyes were so close, and were hooded and dark,
The cheeks were both sallow and thin,
'A little more rouge - there we are! Is your aunt
The most beautiful creature you've seen? '
The boy nodded then, as he knew he must do
If he wouldn't be beaten and sore,
The lash of her cane had left scars in his brain
And he just couldn't take any more.
His mother had died when her sister denied her
A telephone call in the night,
She'd wanted to call out an ambulance then,
But her sister said: 'You'll be all right! '
She died the next morning, and Madelaine Mann
Had dug a large hole by the tree,
She buried her sister there, in the moonlight,
Leaving Andrew, who wasn't quite three.
They lived in the country, so nobody knew
What went on in that foul looking den,
And Andrew became little Andrea soon,
Because Madelaine Mann hated men.
He grew up confused as he followed her rules
But he always knew something was wrong,
He pulled all the heads off the dolls as he played
And his voice couldn't carry a song.
She'd beat him whenever his needlework strayed
Showing great ugly stitches and knots,
But his mind wandered out where the mud puddles lay,
And that patch of forget-me-nots.
Those precious blue flowers grew under the tree
Where her sister lay, cold in the ground,
She'd smile as she passed them, her own little joke
As she turned the son's gender around;
But Andrew, he sat and he picked at the flowers
And he sat there for hours at a time,
He'd sit in a trance, then he'd dance a small dance
As if Mummy was there in his mind.
She dressed him in dresses, and tied up his hair
But still made him work for his keep,
He swilled out the pigs and he managed the bees,
And he grew until he was thirteen;
She schooled him at home so that nobody knew
That the girl on the farm was a 'he',
For Madelaine saw off the strangers that came
With a sign: 'Private Property! '
She beat him whenever he stepped out of line
And he didn't dare answer her back,
He scowled and he muttered when she wasn't there,
And his thoughts were dark, merging on black.
He talked to the pigs as his moodiness grew
To the sow that he called 'Mother Sly',
And saw how voracious their appetites grew
As he poured the swill into the sty.
One morning she woke, and she called for him then,
When she couldn't get out of her bed,
'You must call an ambulance, Andrea dear,
I have something gone wrong in my head.'
He stood in the doorway, and shuffled, and smiled,
Then he grinned and he took off his dress;
A pair of old overalls hung in the hall,
And he put them on over his vest.
'Don't be silly, my girl! Don't defy me, or think
This will change anything in our lives!
You will work on the farm 'til I'm well, and I'm home...'
He just laughed, and went out to the hives.
He cut off the cord to the telephone,
And he left off from feeding the swine,
While Madelaine Mann lay remembering then
All the beatings, as fear took her mind.
'The ambulance, Andrea; Andrea please! '
She had shouted in vain all day long,
But Andrew himself was nowhere to be seen,
He was out somewhere else, all alone.
On the following morning he wheeled in the chair
That his mother had used, from the barn,
'We're taking a walk, dear, ' Andrea said,
'I'm just going to show you our farm.'
He put on a suit with a hood and long gloves
And he wheeled her then, out to the tree,
The area was full of forget-me-nots,
All in bloom, and a picture to see,
But there by the tree there were three wooden hives
And the bees were there, buzzing the flowers,
He lifted each lid, then he turned and he said:
'It's so nice here; I'll give you two hours.'
She screamed and she struggled to get off the chair
But the stroke had disabled her mind,
Her eyes bulged in fear as the first stung her ear,
Within minutes, the woman was blind.
They crawled on her arms, on her legs and her face
And they stung and they stung to a plan,
To get the intruder to leave them alone,
But she couldn't... not Madelaine Mann!
When Andrew returned with the smoker, she sat
And she groaned - he was somewhat disturbed:
'I thought you'd be finished, you nasty old witch!
Well, we'll finish this soon, mark my words.'
He trundled her groaning along the dirt path
And he tipped her right into the sty;
The last thing she heard were the grunts of the young
And the munching of old 'Mother Sly.'
27 August 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Madelaine
(copyright nazareth, tiflis tunes,inc.-ascap)
Standing watching a pale blue moon,
Rising slowly in the winter sky,
Waiting, hoping shell be home soon,
And I wont ask her where or why.
As the evening shadows fall,
Madelaine, madelaine
I can hear the night wind call,
Call her name, madelaine.
Turning slowly I hear her call,
Echo softly through the silver pines,
Walking home the first snowflake falls,
Still, shes always on my mind.
As the evening shadows fall,
Madelaine, madelaine
I can hear the night wind call,
Call her name, madelaine.
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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!
Growing Up
I didn't know why I was really born
I had a sad childhood and was always torn
Didn't know my daddy, didn't really know my mother
It was just us three, with my sister and my brother
We stuck together and formed a bond
We were all we had and were very fond
We would defend each other all our life
There was pain and fear and plenty of strife
We were abused and neglected most of the time
Then, you could starve and beat your kids, not a crime
We were passed around to home after home
We never had much to call our own
We had a different daddy once a week
They made us full of fear and awful meek
Some were very nice and some were very mean
Some would beat us constantly, and some would only scream
We all grew up rough and we all knew it
And if they knew about this poem, they would have a fit
Mother couldn't help it, her mind was very weak
All her life she suffered, her life was so bleak
But we survived it all and grew up too
And mother she forgot, and didn't have a clue
I loved her so much, through thick and thin
The angels came and got her, that's why I can pen!
poem by Donna Nimmo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Heffa
'Don't let me chase you...
Heffa! '
My mother would say this,
Before she did my sister's hair.
And I would sit in a chair...
To watch my sister.
And she would cry and I would stare.
'What you looking at? '
My sister Mimmie would say!
I'm looking at you!
What you gonna do?
'You kids better not start nothing with me.
Hold your head still, girl!
And don't you say another word, Larry! '
I would think to myself...
'Is Mimmie a 'heffa' when she gets her hair done?
Why when I called her that...
She would chase me,
And I would run?
Then my mother would say,
'Would you kids stop that!
Both of you get on my last nerve.
Stop that fighting crap.'
Ma, what is a 'heffa'?
And why is Mimmie one?
Is it the way she looks...
When her hair is undone?
If I called her that,
She wants to fight with me.
Daddy don't call her a heffa.
Why do you...
Exclusively?
My mother would look at me,
As if I was crazed.
I could tell in her eyes,
She was trying for 'something' to say!
I never heard my mother curse.
She didn't have to back then.
But I grew to understand...
'Heffa' was a word,
Black women shared between them!
And my sister Mimmie...
Thought she needed to keep me in 'check'!
And 'if' I didn't leave her alone...
A grown man I would never become or get!
I grew up in a family of very strong willed 'heffuhs'!
Dedicated to:
Those women in my family whom I love dearly.
And I have learned what they say to each other,
And amongst themselves...
Is between them as women!
And they have provided me with 'much' wisdom!
I know now...
What is said 'endearingly' between them,
Is not for a man to repeat!
Even though they can say what they wish,
About us!
'Right, fellas'?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Are You Going To See Your Mom?
'Mom,
I come back again.'
I shouted
in my mind.
It is said that
Plane flies fast.
But my heart
flew to my Mom
before the plane landed.
I knew
that my sisters come here
in turn everyday.
Now this day
I would be on duty.
When I stepped into the nursing home,
I saw Mom in a wheel chair,
with more white hair,
and more wrinkles on face.
I gave her a hug,
'Hi, Mom.' I shouted near her ear.
Mom stared me with dull sight,
then held my hands,
'Sister' she called me,
She couldn't recognize me!
I couldn't hold my tears any more.
Mom didn't cry,
just wiped out my tears
using her hand.
When lunch was ready,
I fed her one spoon after another;
Mom nodded her head while she's chewing;
A little smile showed up at the edge of her lips.
I hated that It's time to leave,
I stood up, and said
'Good bye, Mom.'
She looked at me,
held my hands, and asked me:
'Are you going to see your Mom? '
* Mom had dementia two years before and moved into a nursing home.
Also, she has hearing problem.
Are You Going To See Your Mom? *
poem by Jade Huang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
At My Aunt's Unveiling
AT MY AUNT’S UNVEILING
At my aunt’s unveiling
There were five of us
Only five
One was a woman
A friend of hers
Not the closest one
But someone who knew her
And wanted to be a friend.
Thousands of people had known my aunt
Hundreds had worked with or for her
She was born into a large family
But all of them were gone
Or out of it.
My sister and I were the relatives
My aunt had been very generous to us
And difficult for my sister
Who cared for her.
I had only been a taker all the years.
My aunt worked so hard for so many years
And she was ‘somebody’ in her world
There were five of us there
And the ceremony short
No minyan.
There was no sign of my aunt’s smile
Or her nervous energy or her superabundant love
‘Moll ‘as my mother called her
was not there.
I see her so clearly in my mind now
‘What does it all mean? ’ my father would ask my mother
after reading of the death of another person they knew
‘What does it all mean’
When my sister and I go
The memory of my aunt
Will be gone forever.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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!
For Lori Lynn
Once in my youth I saw her face
That's how my story begins-
I met a young maiden of stunning grace,
She called herself Lori Lynn.
Sprinkles of stardust danced in her eyes,
As my mind would meander and spin,
And her hair would shimmer in the moonlit sky,
Caressing her delicate skin.
She made me act like a little child,
And my feelings I couldn't contain,
So I wrote this poem to make her smile
Because I was slightly insane.
But, all of a sudden, a strange little bird
Snatched my poem, as I finished my gin,
Then it flew away and I never heard
From my beautiful Lori Lynn.
Many years passed, I grew tired and old,
And I couldn't write poems again,
As my world grew dull and my heart turned cold,
And I felt like a dying man.
But then one night, when I was alone
With my usual bottle of gin,
I dreamt that same bird, and it read me a poem
By my beautiful Lori Lynn.
Then I woke up and somehow I knew
That the answer was always within,
So I wrote this poem addressed to you,
O my beautiful Lori Lynn!
poem by Alexander Shaumyan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Orleans
My sister was named Orleans
After the town where she was born,
Dear Orleans, my best friend,
A little girl with hazel eyes,
Dear Orleans, please don’t cry,
Hold my hand and stay with me,
And never say good bye.
My sister grew up beautiful
Like so many little girls do,
My sister Orleans, late one night,
Danced with a man named Lou.
Dear Orleans, please come home,
Mama and daddy and I
Are waiting here for you.
My sister never came home that night,
And daddy called the law,
Mama paced the floor till dawn
And wrung her hands till they were raw,
Dear Orleans, we waited till
The police came to our house
And told us what they saw.
My sister had been ravished bad
And left to die alone.
The man called Lou had fled the town
And by morning he was gone.
Dear Orleans, thank God you lived,
Though you’ll never be the same,
At least you’re safe at home.
My sister Orleans grew a life
Conceived through hate and fear;
We tried to hide it from the town
But soon it became clear.
Dear Orleans, hid her shame
As day by day she swelled
And the baby’s birth drew near.
My sister thrashed and cried in bed
On the day the sun was high;
She begged for mercy and release
Till we heard the infant cry
Dear Orleans, reached out for him
I wrapped him in a towel
And watched her baby die.
poem by Caroline Misner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Barn at Willoughby's Farm - II
Jacinth's Tale
He was always there on the fringes
Of my world, when just a child,
There wasn't a time he wasn't there
To guide, protect, to chide,
He'd follow me safely home from school,
He'd take me for a ride,
A cousin, so many times removed
From those on my mother's side.
I wasn't the only sibling, but
It was me he called his pet,
The others would get quite jealous
And they'd not let me forget,
‘He carries a torch for you, Jacinth,
And never will let you be! '
But when I was just a teenager
He made me feel like a queen.
He was into his later twenties, then
But he didn't seem to care,
He'd let me dress for a party, then
He'd sit and he'd brush my hair,
There wasn't a friend as good as him
I told my party crowd,
The cuz that lived in the basement
Of our flat, my Tom O'Dowd.
But once I grew as a woman, then
His manner became intense,
He started to irritate me, and
Took issue with all my friends,
‘That fellow isn't the one for you,
He'll only drag you down! '
Or - ‘What in the world are you coming to?
That guy, he's simply a clown! '
He tried to snuggle up closer on
The couch, when I was home,
Started to stroke my hand and knee
When we were quite alone,
I told him I wasn't interested,
That he was merely a friend,
His eyes would follow me round the room,
‘You'll love me, in the end! '
I got upset, and told him straight:
‘I hate it when you cling!
Just leave me be, or Tom, you'll see
You'll just spoil everything! '
He pinned me against the bedroom wall
And stared with his wild, black eyes,
‘I didn't stick all these years, for you
To end up another man's prize! '
I'd started seeing a bikie, with
A Harley - God, it could move,
But never let on to cousin Tom,
I knew he wouldn't approve,
But Joe was really a softie, or
I thought so at the time,
I must have been quite naïve back then,
He'd dabbled in petty crime.
Then Joe suggested we go away,
Get shot of my cousin, Tom,
So I came up with a scheme, to make
It seem there was nothing wrong,
I said I'd a job as a Jillaroo,
And I boarded the bus one night,
Mentioned the name of Willoughby's Farm
So the driver would get it right.
I got off the bus at Lyndhurst, went
To wait by the old hotel,
When Joe rolled up on his Harley, and
We hit the road for a spell,
I kept in touch with my sister so
I'd know what was going down,
And then in the month of June I heard
That Tom was leaving town.
We headed out to the old bush track
I scrawled on that ancient tyre,
I wrote, ‘Five miles to Willoughby's Farm'
And hoped that he'd see it there,
We travelled out to the farm and hid,
For Joe had been there before,
Then buried an old sheep's carcass there
And left my bag by the door.
When Tom came into the barn that morn
We lay, deep hid in the hay,
And watched him dropp to his knees and sob,
Cry out in his pure dismay,
He seized the shovel, began to dig
Then Joe jumped out in a rage,
And suddenly there was blood and a scream
I will hear ‘til my dying day!
Joe lay there in a pool of blood
Where the shovel had sliced his throat,
And Tom reeled back when he heard me scream,
In a long and a high pitched note,
I rode away on the Harley, leaving
Tom back out on the track,
Sunk in that nightmare dream of his,
He'll never be coming back!
16 August,2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Jack and Kath (long poem)
Jack Benbow and his younger sister Kath
went for a walk along a winding path.
This led them through some very high trees
past some bluebells and buzzing bee’s.
The birds sang their songs on this sunny day
as the children happily went their way.
Along the path they skipped and walked,
singing and playing as they talked.
They came across a clearing in the wood
where a sign pointed to Notsogood.
“What a funny name for a place, ” said Kath.”
“Yes, ” said Jack, “but it’s time to head back.
We’ll go back the same way as we came
and follow the path back home again.”
But the path led them deeper into the wood
and up to another sign to Notsogood.
“Kath, didn’t we pass that sign earlier today,
surely we must head back the other way? ”
So they turned around and began to walk back.
“Look, ” said Kath, “there’s another sign Jack.
And that’s also pointing to Notsogood,
how do we get out of this silly wood? ”
“Let’s just follow the sign and see where it goes
it’s better than following the end of your nose.”
The winding path went from wide to narrow
as the dark clouds made it harder to follow.
Over a stream and home cooking filled the air,
it led to a shack, with a cat sleeping on a chair.
The rickety fence led them down the overgrown path,
“Let’s knock on the door for directions, ” said Kath.
The door slowly opened with a long drawn out creak,
an old woman in black appeared who began to speak.
“Hello happy children what a nice pleasant surprise, ”
as she looked at them closely with her piercing eyes.
“I was just about to make a lovely pot of herbal of tea,
would you like to join Malapropis and me? ”
“Malapropis, is that really the name of your cat? ”
“Yes it is, and all she ever does is get incredibly fat.”
This old woman’s nails were dirty, long and pointed,
and her nose and chin was bent and disjointed.
“Children, would you like sweetness in your tea? ”
“Yes please, we like it as sweet as can be”
“However, afterwards we must begin walking home.”
The woman didn’t look happy and gave out a moan.
She discreetly poured a potion into the children’s tea,
but gave more to Kath to make her extra sleepy.
While the children slept on the shacks wooden floor
the old woman lifted up a timber trap door.
She carried Kath down the steps into the cellar below
and put her into a box with a straw pillow.
She then mixed a potion and gave it to her while she slept,
a spell was cast as she danced, and with delight she wept.
This magical mixture would exchange their looks and age
it began to work in moments, and they began to change.
The witch was now young and the spitting image of Kath,
and Kath though asleep was old with a face of cracks.
The witch quickly ran up the steps and shut the trap door,
and tried to wake up Jack from his potioned snore.
“Wake up Jack; it’s time to go while the witch is away,
we’ve got to go now, quick right away.”
Jack yawned, “Okay Kath but which way shall we go? ”
“Just follow that cat, she seems to know.”
He couldn’t distinguish between the witch and Kath,
and sure enough the cat led them along the path.
“Best not to tell our parents Jack where we have been,
we’ll say we’ve been helping dear old Mr Green.”
“But Kath, we can’t tell a lie to our mum and dad.”
“It’ll be alright Jack; a white lie isn’t so bad.”
“I’ll say we were late because we helped with the hay,
and we didn’t know the time until the farmer did say.”
Their parents were anxious because they were so late,
and their gravy had dried in rings around their plate.
No one noticed any difference in their darling little Kath,
except for the croak in her voice when she began to laugh.
But they thought this amusing and just one of those things,
and it didn’t affect her singing because she couldn’t sing.
Malapropis couldn’t get used to a house made of stone,
so went back and joined Kath at the Notsogood home.
Because of her age she couldn’t walk far and hobbled about,
and read the witch’s books of spells day in and day out.
At the age of seventeen the witch became betrothed
to the old Tax Collector who was wealthy and loathed.
Jack’s mother and father could not understand why
she should want to marry a man so hated and sly.
One day Jack and his new puppy went for a walk in the wood
and after a while saw the signpost pointing to Notsogood.
Memories came back of when he and his sister were lost that day
and no matter where they went the sign pointed the same way.
Eleven years had passed him by since that unusual cloudy day,
and so he decided to retrace his steps if he could remember the way.
He followed the signposts, but still the shack he couldn’t find,
but a tawny owl had been following for quite sometime.
He looked up at the owl and the owl looked down at him,
and then it began to flap its wings and make a noisy din.
It flew from tree to tree as though it wanted to be followed,
so he ran through the trees and over the stream that flowed.
Eventually they came to the shack that hadn’t changed one bit,
and as he was about to knock at the door the old woman opened it.
“Jack! Jack! ” She said, “Where’ve you been for all this time?
I’ve been living here and going out of my mind? ”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand, of course you live here.”
“Why did you leave me Jack, a little girl alone, so full of fear? ”
“What do you mean leave you? You live here in this shack.”
“Oh dear, you don’t realise who I am, do you Jack? ”
Yes, you’re the old woman my sister and I met years ago.”
“Oh Jack, how can you think that I’m that old so and so? ”
“Well you look like her and your fat cat’s come back.”
“Please let me explain what has happened Jack.”
Kath explained that she had been given a potion and left to sleep
while the witch exchanged bodies and left her to weep,
and when she awoke and eventually got out of the cellar
the witch and he had gone leaving her forever.
“So you’re saying it wasn’t you that came home with me that day,
it was the witch, who also made me lie and told me what to say?
Is there anything we can do to turn this situation around,
considering your age and that your legs are unsound? ”
“I may be old, but I’ve learned many things whilst I’ve been here
about spells and potions, and how to mix them with tea, wine, or beer.
If you can add a fresh potion to her cup before she takes a drink
it will reverse the wrong doing in the time it takes her to blink? ”
“Yes, I can do that; her wedding reception is on Saturday night,
oh, what perfect timing to put all her nastiness to right.”
“Whatever you do Jack, don’t mention this to mum or dad
because if things do go wrong we’ll all be sad.
If you can manage to give her the drink at precisely eight o’clock
I can begin to cast my spell, which will make hers unlock.
If everything goes to plan, in no time at all she’ll grow back old,
and I'll have my life back with a story to be told.
After the deed, I’ll find my way back on my own
and I’ll see mum, dad, and you later when you arrive home.
Does this plan for the wicked witch sound alright with you,
if it does I’ll begin to make my very special potion brew? ”
“Yes, but it’s a pity we can’t get back your stolen eleven years.”
“I’ll be happy to be myself again and to see that witch in tears.
The potion’s finished, now take this small bottle of special brew
it’s very strong, so please don’t add any more drops than two.
If everything goes well I will see you late on Saturday night,
I’m so excited with the prospect of everything coming to right.”
“Don’t you worry Kath we’ll beat that life stealing old hag
and stop her spending the Tax Collector’s bag.”
The Tax man and the witch were having a wonderful wedding day
she was all smiles with airs and graces, and no one got in her way.
She now had beauty, security, and all that wealth could bring,
and a pompous old man that would be dead before spring.
At the expensive crowded wedding reception early that night
Jack had his task of putting the past’s wrongs to right.
The main speeches were being said to rapturous applause
and the time was now right for Jack’s worthy cause.
He filled two glasses with wine and added all the potion to one,
but forgot which was the witch’s and the time had nearly come.
At two minutes to eight he took a chance and gave the witch a glass
and asked everyone to drink to his sister’s health and happiness.
He pretended to take a sip and then encouraged the witch to drink,
she gulped it down and in a flash her body began to shrink.
Everyone in the room was watching and saw her vanish to the floor
all that remained was her dress, some dust and not a lot more.
The guests were shocked and horrified and couldn’t believe their eyes,
the Tax Collector choked on a chicken bone, and keeled over and died.
Jack’s mother and father sobbed at the loss of their only daughter
and couldn’t understand why Jack was in a fit of laughter.
“At sometime tonight, ” said Jack, “there will be another huge surprise
far greater than what’s happened here and you won’t believe your eyes.”
They thought that this was in poor taste and told him to stop fooling around,
and to show respect for his poor sister lying as dust on the ground.
Later they entered their house and saw their daughter standing by a chair
she looked so young and beautiful, with flowers in her flowing red hair.
With tears in their eyes her parents said, “But Kath how can that be? ”
So we began to tell them about the witch, herself and me.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Birth
he was born on a dark lonely night
and not a soul was in sight.
his mother was driving home
on that starry night, when she started
to feel the contractions.
she knew right then that she would
have to take action.
she pulled alongside that old country road
and her stomach she did hold
.
when she felt that waterbag bust
and in GOD she put her trust.
she asked the LORD what she should do
for she knew not what to do.
she heard a voice so soft and gentle
that told her to stay calm.
for this was a special child
that would be born this night
and that everything was going
to be allright.
she pushed the front seat back
as far as it would go
and took off her clothing so
that she could see.
the pains became so severe
and a head did appear.
she pushed with all her might
so that this child could be free.
for this was the way
it was meant to be.
as the child started to come out
from her lungs came a shout.
this child came out with such ease
and she felt a gentle breeze
as if it was a whisper upon her face
and she knew it was through GODS grace.
with a penknife she cut the cord.
and cleaned him up the best she could.
she wrapped him within her coat
and put the heater on
and drove back to a distant farm.
when she got to the farm
and banged upon the door.
when no one answered
she knealt down on the floor.
again she called upon the LORD
and asked what she should do.
he told her to look towads the barn
for there was a light as bright as day
and the farmer was baling hay.
as she got to the barn door
she collapsed in sheer exhaustion.
when she finally opened up her eyes
on the hay she did lay.
and beside her lay her child.
and the farmer told her she was
out for quite a while.
but the ambulance was on the way
and that he could not move her
in fear of jeopardizing her life
and that she was cleaned up
by his lovely wife.
now the farmers wife was
a religious woman
who believed that nothing
happens by chance.
and at this child she did glance.
she said that he had an aura
of light above his head
just like the bible which she had read.
she looked at this childs mother
and asked her this:
'is this coincidence or is this
a sign from above
that he would be in a barn
like christ was in the manger?
she recalled that gentle voice and
what it had said.
that a special child would be born on this night.
now you tell me.
was she wrong, or was she right?
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dads Cherry Tree
There was a large cherry tree in my yard
This tree t’was my dad ‘s favorite
And as the cherry tree grew up to thy sky
He did have a decision
whether or not to chop the tree down
Or risk it falling and killing him
For you see this old cherry tree did
Stand right over his bed
So if the wind kick up or lightning did strike
Would be his end for
The tree would fall and he would go
So unfortunately with the tree
So he would make great decision
And hopefully make it right
It took him many years and many a time
He thought’s the did spite
Him for the year’s went by and the cherry tree
Got more demised, nearer to the bed
As he would lay and begin to wonder
Will this take off my head
So as the year the did expire
Then He finally said
I will take the old tree down
Above my own bed
And the so alas the cherry fell
The tree would breathe its last
And be cut down to stump and be
Safe for dad once again
The tree was made low and the branches did go
Right into the meat smoker
But out of the ash cloud grew another
through the thorns and choker
the tree did live on in another a tree that grew
and so the tree was reborn
from a cherry, the trees great fruit
and so this little sapling grew and it grew
and it grew 1,2,3 foot by the crowing of the year
and so it grew and it got taller
as a little sapling then might or would do
and the tree got no smaller
as it grew to be as tall as dad and it was
staring him in the eye
he said we got to dig this up
look at the size
for you see the little sapling was right in my garden
and blocking the sunshine
so we dug and dug and dug
it took a lot of time
but finally we got up pulled it out of the ground
and moved to better spot
were it would live in peace and harmony
the place we set was not to hot
But it was not to cold either, it was
It was a nice spot with all
of the tree for the young cherry’s company
the tree grew very tall
And with it happy position that there was
it was a great sight
To see this cherry tree again live
And never have to fight
Now when my dad he did see this
he was so overjoyed
He had his cherry tree’s son and offspring
And never again did he toy
With planting or cutting down old cherry trees
He loved his tree so dear
That he would be indeed collecting all the cherries
And never wrong was he steered
poem by Timothy Young
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When She Played It Was On Her Piano
As a kid I had ambitions.
And the first of them was to do my chores,
Before my mother would come home from work.
And she would pack them on too!
'I told you to sweep this floor.'
I did!
'With what?
A sandwich?
Do it again.'
My sister, Mimmie, would look at me.
And smile!
I couldn't wait,
To give her the spray can...
To kill the roaches!
I didn't know we weren't suppose to have them,
Until I was eight years old!
And that's not a joke.
One day when my mother went to work,
I made sure Mimmie got introduced.
She's a grandmother now.
And every once in a while...
She will mention how mean I was to her.
Nobody is going to sit,
And enjoy me getting whipped!
And that has been my philosophy...
Learned very early in my life.
Those days are long gone.
And being assigned to responsibilites,
I believe every child needs.
However...
Too many parents have raised lazy and spoiled children.
Believing one day,
They will awaken and be accountable for their actions!
Today as I reflect on my childhood,
I am glad my mother did not allow me to go to sleep...
To chance an awakening to what I knew I should do.
What I had and was going to do got done,
Before I had an opportunity to give it thought.
Procrastination,
Was not a lesson my mother taught.
I've seen parents,
Do everything possible for their children.
To wonder at a later date in time,
Why their children disrespect them.
Even 'if' I looked as if I wanted to say something back,
My mother would put a 'switch' to my behind.
AND...
I would have to fine one she liked to use on me.
That was before the calling of 911.
Today...
They would call that child abuse.
When I grew up...
We got our 'butts' tore up.
Just for looking as 'if'...
We did not enjoy getting whippings!
And I aint hardly kidding.
How does that 'old' saying go?
~Spare the rod and spoil the child.~
Well...
Mimmie and I were very spoiled.
But...
A rocking of a boat,
Did not float at all...
With Ms Edna!
When she played,
It was on her piano!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Queen of What Is Right
Yes!
She is my sister.
And Queen,
Of What Is Right.
No one,
Not even me...
Can argue with Mimmie D.
She is seldom wrong!
So prepare to take a hike.
She's quite talented and gifted.
And seems to never rest.
She makes things look too easy.
Even her children, Shayla and Landry...
Often find time with her protest.
But Mimmie is quite a special person!
And yes, I can say this...
It is true,
She knows what is best.
She knows how to dress with style and grace.
When she cooks a meal,
I've witness people stuff their faces.
Everything she touches,
Has a quality to it.
And she's the first on the scene,
When family, friends and those she loves get sick!
Did I tell you she was a nurse?
When she was just a child...
Healing the 'universe' she use to rehearse.
She tried to practice her skills on me!
But I had to remind her...
I was the one born first!
'Mahhhh...
Will you tell Mimmie to leave me alone.
She's trying to tell me what to say.
When I get on the telephone! '
Yes!
She is my sister.
And Queen,
Of What Is Right.
Yes, we had our arguments.
And yes we had our childish fights.
But on September 10th two thousand and nine,
My little sister will be sixty.
And it is hard to believe,
Without me...
She has done quite fine.
But sometimes I wonder about her husband AL.
After thirty six years of wedded bliss with sister Mim...
He seems to get better as he ages with her.
And not showing one sign,
He is out of his mind!
There has to be 'something' WRONG with THEM.
Two peas in the same pod.
The love they have for each other,
Today...
IS quite odd!
Yes!
She is my sister.
And Queen,
Of What Is Right.
And I love her dearly with all my heart!
Since Andrea and me,
Are both alike.
'Mahhhh...
will you tell LArry to leave me alone.
And mine his own business,
When I talk on the telephone! '
Dedicated to my sister,
Andrea 'Mimmie' Doreen Pertillar Dixon.
In celebration of her 60th birthday.
September 10th 2009.
'I love you, Mimmie.'
Larry
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Call
Mother of her who is close to my heart
Cease to chide!
For no small thing must I wander afar
From the tender arms and lips of my bride
My love with eyes like the glowing star
In the twilight sky apart.
Coulds't thou have seen Him standing there
Ere the day was born,
With the mild high look that was like a prayer,
Thou woulds't not marvel that I must leave all
I hold most dear to answer the call
Of that wonderful morn.
We were casting our nets in the sea,
Andrew and I;
Over the mountains a young wind came
To kiss the waters of Galilee,
And in the calm blue northern sky
The gleaming crest of old Hermon rose
Girt with its diadem of snows,
And the east was smit with flame.
All our thoughts were simple and glad
As toilers' should be;
Andrew, that careless, dark-eyed lad
Sang a song right merrily,
Joyous of melody and word,
As he worked with oar and net and sail,
But I dreamed of the face that would blush and pale
When my step should be heard!
Then, as we lifted heedless eyes,
We saw Him there,
Where the silver waters curled on the shore;
Behind Him the radiance of the skies
Shining over His long, fair hair
Wreathed it as with a crown of light;
And oh, the grandeur and the grace
Of that pale and kingly face
We were weary and hungered with toil of the night
But we thought not of it more!,
He looked upon us with eyes that must see
Far in our hearts past mortal ken;
All the delights of the world grew dim
Sweeter is seemed to suffer pain
And wander, outcast of men with Him,
Than share in another's joy and gain;
Spake He thus royally, "Come with me;
I will make you fishers of men."
Mother of her who weeps at my side
Cease to chide!
Thou knowest not how that one word rings
Ever by day and by night in my ear,
I cannot hearken to olden things
I cannot listen to hope or fear;
Mother of her who is dearest of all,
I must follow the Nazarene's call!
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hattie House
Air -- "Lily Dale"
Come all kind friends, wherever you may be,
Come listen to what I say,
It's of a little girl that was pleasant to see,
And she died while out doors at play.
CHORUS:
Oh! Hattie, dear Hattie,
Sweet little Hattie House --
May the flowers ever bloom o'er the little tomb,
Of our loved one, Hattie House.
She had blue eyes and light flaxen hair,
Her little heart was light and gay,
She said to her mother, that morning fair,
"Mother, can I go out and play?"
Her mother tied her bonnet on,
Not thinking it would be the last
She would ever see her dear little one
In this world, little Hattie House.
She left the house, this dear little girl,
On that bright and pleasant day --
She went to play with two little girls
That were near about her age.
She was not gone but a little while
When they heard her playmates call --
Her friends hastened there to save the child,
Alas, she was dead and gone.
Those little girls will not forget
The day little Hattie died,
For she was with them when she fell in a fit,
While playing by their side.
She was her parents' only child,
And her age was near six years,
And now she has left them for a while --
Left all her friends in tears.
She has left this world of grief and woe,
Dear friends, she has left behind --
She is waiting on the other shore,
To meet them bye and bye.
One fine morning, the fifth of July,
The summer flowers were in bloom,
Eighteen seventy-one, little Hattie died,
And is sleeping in her tomb.
poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Her Mother Doesn't Know.
Rosina's baby sister died.
The cot stood empty
in the darkened room.
Don't go in there
her mother said.
Rosina opened the door
and peered through
the gap instead.
The toys were still there
by the pink pillow and cover.
Leave the room alone
said her grieving mother.
Moonlight shone upon
the place where baby sister
once turned her face
and smiled or made
her baby noise.
Quiet now the room.
Unplayed with
the idle toys.
Mother cried at night
and often in the day
and stared through
the window at the far off bay.
Father was away
in some distant war
keeping his head down
in some foreign land.
Rosina's baby sister
was buried deep
beneath the ground
in a small white coffin
dressed in a ghostly shroud
with songs sung sadly
and tears in the crowd.
Rosina peered through
the gap of the door
at the cot
and moonlight's glow.
She's seen her baby sister's
ghostly smile
but mother doesn't know.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
All I wanted is for you to love me
All I wanted is for you to love me! ! ! !
She had her when she was only 15 years old, and her baby was so beautiful! many people told her that, and she smiled tho but! ! ! ! in the back of her mind she hated her child tho.From taking thee attention away that she craved! ! ! ! ! and she was thinking it will never be about her, but always about her so called beautiful daughter. Now as time went along her mother blamed her for the men that went away and didn't stay the mother claimed that men would say, that her child act so childish each and everyday that there developed a frown on the mother face like her daughter was the case that her men friends went away, but it was always how she miss treated her daughter in there faces like calling her Miss. little red **** In front of her male acquaintance and she would laugh! ! ! ! when they didn't think it was funny, she ask for them to leave, and they would say you crazy! ! ! If that was my baby you would regret the day you ever mat me. And when they left she start yelling at her baby telling her look what the **** you did again! ! ! ! Thee anger, the rage, the look she gave. She grabbed her baby slammed! ! ! ! ! her on her bottom in a chair and piece, by piece, start cutting her hair. Telling her you think your better then me! ! ! ! you think your prettier, then me, you red **** You think you can compete with me **** even tho she's only eight years old. Talked about her birthmark on her feet and said thats the start of you being ugly, and the daughter just cried! ! ! ! The mother said you make me do these things to you because you think you so got dam! ! ! beautiful.
Years later a history of events occurred thur out the years and now the daughter is now 15 and her mom hating on her body, that she covered up all the mirrors or gave them away so her daughter wouldn't be able to look at her face. What ever the daughter can see thur the mother trash that too the daughter asked why are you so mean and taking everything because this is mine **** you always think your cutter then me! ! ! You red ****you want to hit me so I can **** up your face! ! ! ! wearing your tight jeans acting like you so much better then me you red **** And the daughter didn't say a word she just looked at her and her mom responded you looking down on me and the daughter responded no! ! ! ! Then responded I should have gave you away when the doctor placed you in my ***** hand, and she went on to say that day I brought you home I should took your clothes off and left you in the cold! ! ! ! ! you red ***** should be thankful and grateful that I didn't do that **** to you I'm only telling you this for your own *** good! ! ! then her mom said you want to hit me don't you **** and the daughter responded no but I'm sad for you tho, that you couldn't be the mother I needed you to be, and it hurts it really hurts, and the mom responded **** you **** and the mom said what is that chair doing in your room! ! ! ! I just wanted you to love me. The daughter stood up in the chair the mom responded **** get down off my **** the daughter said I would never be loved by you the mother said you got that right! ! ! the daughter started to cry and the mom responded you ugly **** daughter went to her pocket grabbed the knife and cut her own wrist I had to do this JUST TO GET AWAY FRom you, you jealousy **** she smiled and fell to the floor bleeding to death. Then the mom started yelling noooooooooo my baby my beautiful baby girl! ! ! ! ! ! !
Clarence Williams of greater
poem by Clarence Williams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I thought I saw your face today
I thought I saw your face today
But I just turned my head away
Your face against the trees
But I just see the memories
As they come
As they come
And I couldn't help but fall in love again
No, I couldn't help but fall in love again
I saw it glitter as I grew
And loved a boy I never knew
I thought this place was heaven-sent
But now it's just a monument
In my mind
In my mind
And I couldn't help but fall in love again
No, I couldn't help but fall in love again
And the cars and freeways implore me to stay
Away out of this place
My mother said, "Just keep your head and play it as it lays"
And the cars and freeways implore me to stay
Away out of this place
My mother said, "Just keep your head and play it as it lays"
I somehow see what's beautiful
In things that are ephemeral
I'm my only friend of mine
And love is just a piece of time
In the world
In the world
And I couldn't help but fall in love again
No, I couldn't help but fall in love again
No, I couldn't help but fall in love again\
No, I couldn't help but fall in love again
song performed by by Zooey Deschanel, music by Zooey Deschanel, lyrics by Zooey Deschanel from She & Him Volume one (2008)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!