Panzer
Gretchen wept in her easy chair
And called for her husband, Karl,
They'd been together for sixty years,
Though both were worn and frail.
They'd met in the ruins of München, when
The Reich collapsed and fell,
Escaped to live in Australia
From their own idea of hell.
For Karl had served in the Wermacht,
In a Tank Corps at Dieppe,
Had served in the Panzergruppe von Kleist
Had roamed the Russian steppes,
His tank had taken him through Ukraine
They'd taken the plains by force,
But found their pain when the Russians came,
In their huge T-34's.
But that was the world of way back when,
For Karl was old and grey,
He slept a lot in his tidy home,
The nurse came every day,
His wife developed dementia, she'd
Forget where she used to roam,
So she was parted from husband Karl,
Was sent to a Nursing Home!
He walked with the aid of a walking frame,
He couldn't quite get around,
But listened for echoes of Gretchen's voice
In the house that made no sound,
And all he thought was to rescue her,
To bring his girl back home,
But the powers that be said: 'Wait and see! '
She was lost to him - Alone!
He went to visit her, once a week,
They held each other's hand,
She cried so much when he had to leave,
She never could understand,
And he was desolate every time,
He'd cling to her so tight,
That they had to prise his hand away
When they sent him away at night.
The nurses were harsh and businesslike,
To them it was just a job,
With no compassion for patients, they
Would leave all that to God.
Demented souls ran over his feet
With trolleys and walking frames,
When Karl grew angry, they shrugged and said:
'Well - Everyone complains! '
One Sunday, standing outside the doors,
He saw his Tiger Tank,
It growled, and pulled up beside him there
And the diesel fumes, they stank.
He climbed aboard with his comrades there,
And 'Schnell! ' they called, to a man,
Then lumbered straight through the double doors,
The nurses turned and ran!
The Tiger reared and it turned about
Tore carpet up from the floor,
The tracks ran over the matron's feet,
Let out a fearful roar,
The patients cheered as the Iron Cross
Raced past their common room,
And smashed the glass in the office door,
And crushed the sister's urn!
Then Gretchen laughed as he came in sight,
'Here comes my husband, Karl!
He'll break us out of this prison ward,
Can you hear his Tiger snarl? '
He stopped and reached for his Gretchen then
Looked deep in her eyes, and swore:
'I'll not be parted from you again
Though hell should bar the door!
They found them lying together there,
He held her safe in his arms,
They'd gone together where lovers go
Away from the world's alarms.
'He went quite crazy, ' the Matron said,
'He must have been insane! '
For lying outside her shattered door
Was his twisted walking frame!
30 October 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
(Undone) Sweater Song
Matt:] Hey bra, how we doin' man?
[Karl:] All right.
[Matt:] It's been a while man, life's so rad!
This band's my favorite man, don't ya love 'em?
[Karl:] Yeah.
[Matt:] Aw man, you want a beer?
[Karl:] All right.
[Matt:] Aw man, this is the best. I'm so glad we're all back together and stuff.
This is great, man.
[Karl:] Yeah.
[Matt:] Hey, did you know about the party after the show?
[Karl:] Yeah.
[Matt:] Aw man, it's gonna be the best, I'm so stoked! Take it easy bra'.
I'm me
Me be
Goddamn
I am
I can
Sing and
Hear me
Know me
If you want to destroy my sweater
Hold this thread as I walk away
[Mykel:] Hey, what's up?
[Karl:] Not much.
[Mykel:] Did you hear about the party?
[Karl:] Yeah.
[Mykel:] Um, I think I'm gonna go but, um, my friends don't really wanna go. Could I get a ride?
Oh no
It go
It gone
Bye-bye
Who I
I think
I sink
And I die
If you want to destroy my sweater
Hold this thread as I walk away
Watch me unravel, I'll soon be naked
Lying on the floor (lying on the floor)
I've come undone
If you want to destroy my sweater
Hold this thread as I walk away (as I walk away)
Watch me unravel, I'll soon be naked
Lying on the floor (lying on the floor)
I've come undone
I don't want to destroy your tank-top
Let's be friends and just walk away
It's good to see you lying there in your Superman skivvies
Lying on the floor (lying on the floor)
I've come undone
song performed by by Weezer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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W
While bodies bloated in dark water
floated past news dinghys
W was making mincemeat
of Karl on the ping pong table
Karl complained about W’s catlike moves
“You can’t beat me outright turdblossom”
“I’m on my game “ he said in his faux Texas jibe
Karl knew better than to play right handed
“You two better break this up, it’s lunchtime”
said the fawning wife who winked at Karl
Karl let W's weak slam sink the game
“ Good game tubby” snickered W
Karl thought of the big game in Florida
which he’d rigged for a W win
He felt glowing pride after lunch
like the virtuoso and his prodigy
watching W get in the golf cart
“I’m driving cause' I’m the Prez” drawled W
Karl thought, “If you only knew”.
poem by George Murdock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ass Speaker Mutant - Part One
Once upon a time, in far away Germany, a happy couple waits for their childs to born.
All is well. All examinations are normal and, finaly, the great day came.
Herr Karl and his wife, Frau Inga, went to the hospital, but, after the childbirth the hospital was surrounded by a terrible rumor.
The newborn was transferred to a restricted nursery and his parents were not allowed to view it.
Herr Karl was angry with the doctors who did not let him see his son.
- It's not possible that's happening something with my son and you don't tell why.
Frau Inga was smarter.
He pretended to be resigned and went to the nursery where her son.
The doctors were left no choice but to tell all to Karl.
- Herr Karl, your son was born with an anomalous formation in his digestive system. We did not want to do it through this. would be easier to give the child as dead.
Frau Inga, finaly arrived at the nursery and found his son, isolated from everything.
- Tell me just once. What has my son? Said Herr Karl, nervous.
- His son was born with the digestive system reversed his anus is in the face, and his mouth is on the buttocks.
Herr Karl was paralyzed.
Frau Inga took his son in his arms, and noticed the strange mouth. A green and fetid secretion ran down a corner. She noted that it was feces. At that moment the baby started crying and her crying came from the buttocks. Startled, she turned and was horrified to discover that the child's mouth was on the butt.
The nurses prevented her and the baby to fall when she fainted.
poem by Aschelminto Da Silva
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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Catatonic
Karl Ludwig Kahlbaum
In 1874, Karl Ludwig sat
Staring at his cat
Wondering what scientific discovery
Yet awaited his uncovery.
Seems all the great and renown
Had already placed their markers down
And there was little to be found
In plowing the psychic's hallowed ground.
Came first Aristotle
And others of lesser mettle
Who professed to understand
What was 'melancholy' of man.
Burton in his tome did write
Long and wide
Of the essence of melancholy
and its folly.
In his poem about pain and pleasure
He took far flung measure
Of what it constitutes
And how the mind pollutes.
Then along came Darwin (not the elder)
Who attempted to attribute to love and hunger
The forces of melancholy's strains
That caused to patients their many pains.
Freud, who read Darwin,
Claimed his bit of fame
Expanding on Sex
As it did man, perplex.
Kahlbaum thought it best to let be
What the 'Alienest' could not see.
So, in his records, Kahlbaum did note
Much about his cat, he wrote.
For ‘twas described by Karl Ludwig Kahlbaum
A state experienced by some.
And surely the lay public would know quite well
The nature of the cat and how it did dwell.
Stupor is called by some, 'catalepsy'
Which is nothing more or less
Than the state of mind with which the cat is blessed
When spending most of his (or her) time at rest.
For no external stimuli
Can arouse the cat from the bed in which it lie
All (or almost all) motor activity is suppressed
When the cat is in this state of rest.
Even when it appears that the cat is awake
And eyes are wide open to partake
Of events that are going on
There is no awareness that he is home.
In this state of consciousness the animal remains rigid
And if not frozen, in a word, torpid.
Permitting the cat to remain in a fixed position
Unmoving, regardless of external condition.
'Eureka, there's more.' He cried,
For another characteristic he'd spied.
When the cat was wide awake,
The tail was in motion for nothing's sake.
A swishing, and a twitching back and forth
As if moved by some other force.
'I see yet another characteristic, '
Sometimes it can be limp as a wick,
And carried about like a purse
Relaxed as if dead or worse.
But what shall I call my observations
So my reputation will be known to all Nations?
Something that will ensure that Kahlbaum
Will trip from other's tongue.
'I have it, ' he did exclaim,
'It will bring me everlasting fame.'
It's the state
To which all can relate!
Alas, as time has passed,
Karl Ludwig's name is not recognized,
But his cat has world renown
Living the condition that is well known.
Catatonic
poem by Sidi J. Mahtrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blood Brothers
The tiger
(it was my tiger)
sat beside me
on the bus
& despite the quque
we had got on first.
We had gone
ice skating
& the tiger proved to be
quite adept.
I...I...fell on my bum
to be laughed at by some
he growled and they
shut de ****up!
We went and saw
the latest Pedro Almodóvar
and the tiger
laughed & wept
we sat through it
...twice.
The tiger thought
Penelope Cruz was nice.
I liked my popcorn sweet...
...the liked his salty.
Later we chatted
between urinals
as the tiger
went & went.
I washed my hands...he washed his paws.
The tiger
using the hairdryer
like Madonna
in DESPERATELY SEEKING SUSAN.
He said he fancied
'A little Japanese! '
'Me too! ' I agreed.
He went home
on the next night bus
from Tottenham Court Road.
It was only then
I wondered
if all adults
had such
imaginary friends.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Hell
It started with pebbles at the window,
when no one was in sight.
For about a week this went on,
at 8pm precise every night.
Then came the opening and closing doors,
by some unseen hand any hour of the day.
Furniture moved around on it their accord,
then the voices came,
arguing from somewhere.
Continual searches of each room,
but nothing was found there.
Suddenly it stopped, and harmony reined.
There was a rest bite for what was yet to come.
Several weeks passed peace and quiet remained.
Then as suddenly as it had stopped, it started up again.
Lights switched themselves on and off,
object flew across the room of their own accord,
small and large.
Pictures flew off the wall
and smashed to the floor.
Then came the knocks on the door,
with no one ever there.
The television gained a mind of its own,
switch on and off and changing channels at will.
Then things began to disappear,
we look for them still,
it was beginning to drive us crazy,
finally, we were at our wits end,
and priest we called in,
but whatever drove him away,
he never came back for a prayer to say.
We seemed to be stranded in this house,
that once we called our home,
and that has now become our hell.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The World Isnt Fair
When karl marx was a boy
He took a hard look around
He saw people were starving all over the place
While others were painting the town
The public spirited boy
Became a public spirited man
So he worked very hard and he read everything
Until he came up with a plan
Therell be no exploitation
Of the worker or his kin
No discrimination cause of the color of your
Skin
No more private property
It would not be allowed
No one could rise too high
No one could sink too low
Or go under completely like some we all know
If marx were living today
Hed be rolling around in his grave
And if I had him here in my mansion on the hill
Id tell him a story twould give his old heart
A chill
Its something that happened to me
Id say, karl I recently stumbled
Into a new family
With two little children in school
Where all little children should be
I went to the orientation
All the young mommies were there
Karl, you never have seen such a glorious sight
As these beautiful women arrayed for the night
Just like countesses, empresses, movie stars and
Queens
And theyd come there with men much like me
Froggish men, unpleasant to see
Were you to kiss one, karl
Nary a prince would there be
Oh karl the world isnt fair
It isnt and never will be
They tried out your plan
It brought misery instead
If youd seen how they worked it
Youd be glad you were dead
Just like Im glad Im living in the land of the
Free
Where the rich just get richer
And the poor you dont ever have to see
It would depress us, karl
Because we care
That the world still isnt fair
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He-o
He-o he came walking down my street
He-o and he stopped in front of my door
He-o and he knocked on the door a long while
He-o then he turned and he walked away
He-o then he turned and he walked away
He-o and he never came back again
He-o I wasnt at home that day
He-o and I never found out that he came
[interlude]
He-o he came walking down my street
He-o and he stopped in front of my door
He-o and he knocked on the door a long while
He-o then he turned and he walked away
He-o then he turned and he walked away
He-o and he never came back again
He-o I wasnt at home that day
He-o and I never found out that he came
song performed by by Vangelis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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And I found my home
Walking on a LONELY road
All alone dark and cold
I thought it was the end for me
But I found my home
Hiding in the shadows of my pain
ANd every word spoken made me insane
I thought nothing else matterd
But I found my home
Always confused never on the right
Closing my eyes to everything in sight
I didn't wanna keep going
But I found my home
Keeping everything there was inside
All I ever wanted to do was hide
I thought this whole world was nothing
But I found my home
Just when I lost all hope
When everything shatterd and I couldn't cope
A family of angels healed my pain
And I found my home
poem by Jess Zapata
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Touch Of Your Hand
On the day that you were born
I touched your hand so chubby and warm.
I touched your hand when you were one
and helped you walk my beautiful son.
I held your hand when you were two.
We ran, your favorite thing to do.
I held your hand when you were three
as you climbed on my lap and smiled at me.
I touched your hand when you were four
as the ocean touched our toes at the shore.
I touched your hand when you were five
walking you to school but when we'd arrive
I felt the tug of your hand from mine
and I knew that we had crossed a line.
I looked at you and released your hand
and said'it's okay I understand.'
As I walked back home I cried some tears
thinking of all our hand holding years.
Holding your hand became sporadic now,
when you were feverish or I felt your brow.
I held your hand a few times as a teen
but always alone so it wouldn't be seen.
I held your hand after you said, 'I do.'
We danced together just me and you.
After some years went by my son
you held the hand of your little one.
And so the times of your life turn around
and now that my hand is old I've found
you take my hand and help me walk
and as you do we intimately talk.
And it takes me back to that bright early morn
when I held your hand so chubby and warm.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kahlbaum
Catatonic
(In memory of Karl Ludwig Kahlbaum)
Ludwig had a cat, whose name was simply, 'Cat.'
That did mostly what
A cat does best
That is, spending most of his time at rest.
But the good doctor
Who studied man's behavior
Spoke often to his cat
About the workings of the mind, and this and that.
So in 1874, Karl Ludwig sat
Staring at his cat
Wondering what scientific discovery
Yet awaited his uncovery.
Seems all the great and renown
Had already placed their markers down
And there was little to be found
In plowing the psychic's hallowed ground.
Came first Aristotle
And others of lesser mettle
Who professed to understand
What was 'melancholy' of man.
Burton in his tome did write
Long and wide
Of the essence of melancholy
and its folly.
In his poem about pain and pleasure
He took far flung measure
Of what it constitutes
And how the mind pollutes.
Then along came Darwin (not the elder)
Who attempted to attribute to love and hunger
The forces of melancholy's strains
That caused to patients their many pains.
Freud, who read Darwin,
Claimed his bit of fame
Expanding on Sex
As it did man, perplex.
Kahlbaum thought it best to let be
What the 'Alienest' could not see.
So, in his records, Kahlbaum did note
Much about his cat, when he wrote.
For ‘twas described by Karl Ludwig Kahlbaum
A state experienced by some.
And surely the lay public would know quite well
The nature of the cat and how in it did dwell.
Stupor is now called by some, 'Cat-alepsy'
Which is nothing more or less
Than the state of mind with which the cat is blessed
When spending most of his (or her) time at rest.
For no external stimuli
Could arouse Cat from the bed in which it did lie
All (or almost all) motor activity is suppressed
When the cat is in this state of blissful rest.
Even when it appears that Cat's awake
And both eyes wide open to partake
Of events that are going on
There is no awareness that he's at home.
In this state of consciousness the animal's rigid
And if not frozen, in a word, torpid.
Permitting the cat to remain in a fixed position
Unmoving, regardless of external condition.
'Eureka, there's more.' He cried,
For another characteristic he'd spied.
When Cat was wide awake,
The tail was in motion for nothing's sake.
A swishing, and a twitching back and forth
As if moved by some mysterious force.
'I see yet another characteristic, '
Sometimes it can be limp as a wick,
And carried about like a purse
Relaxed as if dead or worse.
But what shall I call my observations
So my reputation will be known to all Nations?
Something that will ensure that Kahlbaum
Will trip from other's tongue.
'I have it, ' he did exclaim,
'It will bring me everlasting fame.'
It's the state
To which all can relate!
Alas, as time has passed,
Karl Ludwig's name is not recognized,
But his cat has world renown
Living the condition for which it's well known.
Cat-atonic is the state
to which all can now relate
For humans (and cats too)
Do what animals do.
poem by Sidi J. Mahtrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Attempted Escape.
Each morning Tess waited nervously
for the nursing officer to arrive on
the locked ward, and spot on time
each morning he came with his small
black briefcase and went to his office
on the locked ward of the asylum, and
after a few minutes she was allowed
in for her daily requested interview.
She sat in the chair opposite him, he
fresh from the sane world, sat there
with his brushed teeth and groomed
hair, intent look behind his glasses.
When can I get out of his ward and
home? she asked him each morning;
when we consider you are ready and
safe to be let out, he replied each day
with the same calm voice, the same
deep tones. And off she'd go to begin
another day with those whom she
considered mad or seemingly dead.
Every day at the same time they would
bring along the meals from the kitchen;
they would unlock the double doors,
bring in the trays of meals from a trolley,
leave the doors unattended for the time
it took to bring in the trays, and then
locked the doors again. Tess waited and
watched every time they came timing
by the clock on the wall how long it took
and how long the doors were unlocked.
This day she waited; time ticked slowly,
as she stood in her dressing gown by the
doorway to the bedrooms and watched
as they unlocked the thick double doors.
She waited until they unlocked the doors
and entered with the first of the trays,
then she ran like one possessed, out of
the doors and along the corridors and
heard the commotion behind her as she
ran, and the shouting and screaming and
calls, and the thundering footsteps behind
and then two burly male nurses tackled
her to the ground and held her there
beneath their mass and smelly breath,
seeing the lights on the ceiling flicker on
and off, not far away a woman screamed,
nearby she heard a man's rough cough.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia
(bobby russell)
He was on his way home from candletop
Been two weeks gone and he thought hed stop
At webs and have him a drink for he went home to her
Andy wo-lo said hello
He said hi whats a doing
Wo said sit down I got some bad news thats gonna hurt
Said Im your best friend and you know thats right
But your young bride aint home tonight
Since you been gone shes been seeing that amos boy seth
He got mad and he saw red
Andy said boy dont you lose your head
Cause to tell you the truth Ive been with her myself
Chorus:
Thats the night the lights went out in georgia
Thats the night that they hung an innocent man
Dont trust your soul to no back woods southern lawyer
Cause the judge in the towns got bloodstains on his hand
Andy got scared and left the bar
Walking on home cause he didnt live far you see
Andy didnt have many friends and he just lost him one
Brother thought his wife mustve left town
So he went home and finally found the only thing
Daddy had left him and that was a gun
He went off to andys house
Slipping through the back woods quiet as a mouse
Came upon some tracks too small for andy to make
He looked through the screen at the back porch door
He saw andy lying on the floor
In a puddle of blood and he started to shake
The georgia patrol was making their rounds
So he fired a shot just to flag em down
And a big bellied sheriff grabbed his gun and said
Whyd you do it?
The judge said guilty in a make believe trial
Slapped the sherrif on the back with a smile and said
Suppers waiting at home and I got to get to it
Chorus
They hung my brother before I could say
The tracks he saw while on his way
To andys house and back that night were mine
And his cheatin wife had never left town
And thats one body thatll be found
You see little sister dont miss when she aims her gun
Repeat chorus twice
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Walked Together In The Night
We walked together in the night
Hand in hand, intertwined
It was like a magical dream
I just couldn't believe
We walked together in the night
My heart raced on as if I might die
You calmed me down and told me everything would be alright
We walked together in the night
Just you and I
You held my hand, you held me close
You protected me, and kept me safe
We walked together in the night
That night was the best time of my life
Time I spent with you
We walked together in the night
We're just best friends....
But does this date mean anything?
We walked together in the night
We laughed, We played
We were nervous, We were afraid
What might happen after this night?
We walked together in the night
You took me out to the movies
You took me back to my house
Everything was perfect then
Until I ruined it...
I walked away with tears in my eyes.....I ruined it
I walked back home alone that night...because we weren't ready to date just yet
poem by Starrbox Munoz
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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The Taoiseach’s New Clothes
(or How the Celtic Tiger Became Extinct)
A long time ago, when the Taoiseach
once again didn’t know what to do,
his advisors came up with an answer
and brought him to Dublin Zoo.
At a cage which he thought was empty
they stopped. ‘Now here’s our surprise:
he’s called the Celtic Tiger
and can only be seen by the wise.
‘Just look at his beautiful pelage,
his clear eyes and strong sturdy neck -
you will see that in no time or faster
he’ll get things on this isle back on track.’
And people came from the four corners
of the world to see and festoon
the Tiger that came out of nowhere
and was to return there quite soon.
‘How he’s grinding that bone like a cupcake! ’ -
‘My gosh, what a beautiful brute! ’ –
‘Watch, he’s dancing the tarantella
in a skirt on two paws; ain’t he cute? ’
And the Tiger grew bigger and stronger,
and soon he came of age.
‘He’s been growing a lot’, said the keeper,
‘and he’ll need a bigger cage.’
‘He is right’, the advisors admitted.
‘I think I will give it a miss’,
said the Taoiseach. ‘He’s only a keeper,
what the hell would he know about this? ’
But then, on the following morning,
the keeper was hanging his head,
and he went to the Taoiseach and told him:
‘I’m afraid the Tiger is dead! ’
‘That can’t be’, cried the Taoiseach and hurried
to the cage where he asked for the key
and leaned over his pet and caressed him:
‘Quick, bring me an AED! ’
The keeper looked slightly bewildered
and lit a cigarette:
‘With his head being cut off so neatly,
I can’t see much point in that.’
The advisors soon found a solution:
‘If you wear his fur as your new
cloak I’m sure you’ll convince all your voters
that his power has passed on to you! ’
So the Taoiseach called tailors and watched them
sew, gather, embroider and soak
it in spirit of turpentine, anxious
to try out his amazing new cloak.
He first wore it to Mass on a Sunday
where some loyal supporters did perch
on the wall, donned their heads and saluted
as the Taoiseach entered the church.
But as he sat down for the service,
a girl pulled her mother aside:
‘Look Mum, the Taoiseach is naked! ’,
and everyone laughed till they cried.
poem by Frank L. Ludwig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bad Dreams (Children)
In my dream, I heard a tiger
so I hid behind a tree.
I was frightened he would eat me up
'cause he roared and roared at me.
I woke up scared and sweaty,
thought I'd sleep with Mom and Dad,
but when I went in their room,
Dad was snoring really bad.
I climbed between them anyway
with the blanket pulled up tight.
I closed my eyes and wished real hard.
No more tigers, not tonight!
I remembered what my daddy said,
that your bed is like a book.
If the page on the right is scary,
turn left and take a look.
I turned to my left and fell asleep.
The tiger wasn't there...
but in its place, and growling L O U D
was a big old grizzly bear!
This time, I woke up shaking!
That really scared me bad!
I had turned both left and right
and they were the only turns I had!
Daddy's snoring like a buzz saw.
How will I go to sleep?
I'm not too good at counting yet
or I'd count myself some sheep.
I thought about his snores some more...
hmmm, Daddy sounds just like a bear.
On second thought, a tiger, too,
so I got out of there.
I closed their door behind me,
then I tiptoed quietly,
and shut the door to MY room, too.
No more roaring snores for me!
Another Learning
there is a door
between us as though
we are just
two adjacent rooms
to enter into your door
i need to have that key
you keep on telling me
the key was lost and you
do not know
where to find it anymore
there is another door
and you are allowing someone else to come in
at first i say 'This is unfair! ' and
I thought of forcing
that door open
on the other hand
i have my own door too
and the lock is broken
a long time ago i have
thrown out the key
for what use is a door with
a broken lock?
and for what use is your door
to my prayer?
i do not know what force is &
i already stopped begging
i change the frames of my window
i have some other plans in mind
there are nine planets in our
galaxy
there are many galaxies
in unlimited space
and like all those who still hope
they always know
that someone somewhere keeps
on waiting
in a world where doors welcome me
like arms in half-embrace
and so i go to places where
my feet are welcome
& i have learned the happiness
of forgetting.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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