En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Bundaleer Throne

We live out at Bundaleer in
A cabin, in the bush,
Where the air is so much cleaner,
And there's little need to rush,
We have pigs and sheep and chickens,
And we pick our vegies fresh,
So it caused a stir of interest
When we heard of Uncle's death!

Now the 'Uncle' was my mother's
So he wasn't close to us,
And in fact we'd never met him,
Just heard tales of 'Uncle Gus',
He'd been in the 4th Light Horse
At Beersheba, so they said,
In that last great charge of cavalry
That stained the desert red.

'He became a touch eccentric
After that, ' my mother sighed,
'And for years we never heard of him,
We thought he might have died.
But it seems that he'd been wandering
In Egypt and elsewhere,
And collecting all those knick-knacks
In his cottage at Gulnare.'

The morning that they read his will
It came as a surprise,
For we'd never even known him,
Nor my mother, bless her eyes,
But he'd left to us a token to
Collect down at Gulnare,
From his cottage, it was massive,
Was this old Egyptian chair!

It was made of cane and cedar,
And some stuff that was antique,
There were carvings, funny pictures
Carved on plates of ivory,
It was most dilapidated like
He'd kept it in the barn,
So we used the truck of Barry's,
And we brought it to the farm.

Then we washed it and we scrubbed it
And it came up rather nice,
But when friends came round to gawk
I simply said - 'Oh, that's the wife's! '
They'd grin and wink as if to say
'We think your wife's a loon! '
I'd shrug, and say, 'Oh, I don't know....
That chair sets off the room! '

That night the wind was restless
As it eddied through the trees,
There were lots of weird creakings
In the cattle sheds, the eaves,
And the wife, she woke up crying,
Said she felt this deep despair,
'I was dancing to strange music,
There was blossom in my hair! '

The morning saw the wind swing round
Come in from north and west,
It brought in swarms of locusts
On the land, just like a vest,
They stripped the country round about
They covered up the green,
The locals said the swarm was big,
The biggest ever seen!

We noticed that the weather changed,
Was hot, as dry as dust,
And the bush became all yellow
And the leaves resembled rust,
While mice infested every barn,
Ate locusts by the score,
Then poured in by the hundreds
Through the open cottage door.

That night I lay awake, and heard
Some voices, whispered low,
Outside there, in the darkness,
By the open patio,
I went out to investigate
But only saw the trees,
The shadows in the moonlight,
And I heard the drone of bees.

The morning saw a hundred swarms
All hanging from the boughs,
'You'll have to call in Corrigan,
The Apiarist, for now! '
But Corrigan was limited
With insufficient hives,
I'd sprayed them all, and killed them,
Before Corrigan arrived.

That night I saw dim shadows cast
On windows, that were men,
But wearing ancient uniforms,
With spears and shields, and then...
A guard appeared to walk along
The meadow, by the bog,
The shadow that his head had cast,
It looked just like a dog!

I sat that night and fell asleep
Upon our special 'throne',
And there, within the darkness,
In my sleep, I heard a groan,
A voice, raised up to heaven seemed
To come from near and far,
I didn't understand a word...
But one I did was - Ra!

The morning brought a plague of dust,
The wind howled round in space,
By evening, you couldn't see
Your hand before your face,
My wife sobbed uncontrollably,
She said: 'We're caught in sin!
That 'throne' has brought these plagues on us,
That throne's an evil thing! '

We lay that night in terror while
The phantoms clashed outside,
And troops of horses whinnied,
Shields clashed, and soldiers died,
The throne lies by the apple tree
Illumined by each star,
While Pharoah sleeps eternally,
At one out there, with Ra!

4 July 2010

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Deliverance

Master only left old Mistus
One bright and handsome boy;
But she fairly doted on him,
He was her pride and joy.

We all liked Mister Thomas,
He was so kind at heart;
And when the young folkes got in scrapes,
He always took their part.

He kept right on that very way
Till he got big and tall,
And old Mistus used to chide him
And say he'd spile us all.

But somehow the farm did prosper
When he took things in hand;
And though all the servants liked him,
He made them understand.

One evening Mister Thomas said,
'Just bring my easy shoes;
I am going to sit by mother,
And read her up the news.'

Soon I heard him tell old Mistus
We're bound to have a fight;
But we'll whip the Yankees, mother,
We'll whip them sure as night!'

Then I saw old Mistus tremble;
She gasped and held her breath;
And she looked on Mister Thomas
With a face as pale as death.

'They are firing on Fort Sumpter;
Oh! I wish that I was there! -
Why, dear mother! what's the matter?
You're the picture of despair.'

'I was thinking, dearest Thomas,
'Twould break my very heart
If a fierce and dreadful battle
Should tear our lives apart.'

'None but cowards, dearest mother,
Would skulk unto the rear,
When the tyrant's hand is shaking
All the heart is holding dear.'

I felt sorry for old Mistus;
She got too full to speak;
But I saw the great big tear-drops
A running down her cheek.

Mister Thomas too was troubled
With choosing on that night,
Betwixt staying with his mother
And joining in the fight.

Soon down into the village came
A call for volunteers;
Mistus gave up Mister Thomas,
With many sighs and tears.

His uniform was real handsome;
He looked so brave and strong;
But somehow I could'nt help thinking
His fighting must be wrong.

Though the house was very lonesome,
I thought 'twould all come right,
For I felt somehow or other
We was mixed up in that fight.

And I said to Uncle Jacob,
'How old Mistus feels the sting,
For this parting with your children
Is a mighty dreadful thing.'

'Never mind,' said Uncle Jacob,
'Just wait and watch and pray,
For I feel right sure and certain,
Slavery's bound to pass away;

'Because I asked the Spirit,
If God is good and just,
How it happened that the masters
Did grind us to the dust.

'And something reasoned right inside,
Such should not always be;
And you could not beat it out my head,
The Spirit spoke to me.'

And his dear old eyes would brighten,
And his lips put on a smile,
Saying, 'Pick up faith and courage,
And just wait a little while.'

Mistus prayed up in the parlor,
That the Secesh all might win;
We were praying in the cabins,
Wanting freedom to begin.

Mister Thomas wrote to Mistus,
Telling 'bout the Bull's Run fight,
That his troops had whipped the Yankees
And put them all to flight.

Mistus' eyes did fairly glisten;
She laughed and praised the South,
But I thought some day she'd laugh
On tother side her mouth.

I used to watch old Mistus' face,
And when it looked quite long
I would say to Cousin Milly,
The battle's going wrong;

Not for us, but for the Rebels. -
My heart would fairly skip,
When Uncle Jacob used to say,
'The North is bound to whip.'

And let the fight go as it would -
Let North or South prevail -
He always kept his courage up,
And never let it fail.

And he often used to tell us,
'Children, don't forget to pray;
For the darkest time of morning
Is just 'fore the break of day.'

Well, one morning bright and early
We heard the fife and drum,
And the booming of the cannon -
The Yankee troops had come.

When the word ran through the village,
The colored folks are free -
In the kitchens and the cabins
We held a jubilee.

When they told us Mister Lincoln
Said that slavery was dead,
We just poured our prayers and blessings
Upon his precious head.

We just laughed, and danced, and shouted
And prayed, and sang, and cried,
And we thought dear Uncle Jacob
Would fairly crack his side.

But when old Mistus heard it,
She groaned and hardly spoke;
When she had to lose her servants,
Her heart was almost broke.

'Twas a sight to see our people
Going out, the troops to meet,
Almost dancing to the music,
And marching down the street.

After years of pain and parting,
Our chains was broke in two,
And we was so mighty happy,
We didn't know what to do.

But we soon got used to freedom,
Though the way at first was rough;
But we weathered through the tempest,
For slavery made us tough.

But we had one awful sorrow,
It almost turned my head,
When a mean and wicked cretur
Shot Mister Lincoln dead.

'Twas a dreadful solemn morning,
I just staggered on my feet;
And the women they were crying
And screaming in the street.

But if many prayers and blessings
Could bear him to the throne,
I should think when Mister Lincoln died,
That heaven just got its own.

Then we had another President, -
What do you call his name?
Well, if the colored folks forget him
They would'nt be much to blame.

We thought he'd be the Moses
Of all the colored race;
But when the Rebels pressed us hard
He never showed his face.

But something must have happened him,
Right curi's I'll be bound,
'Cause I heard 'em talking 'bout a circle
That he was swinging round.

But everything will pass away -
He went like time and tide -
And when the next election came
They let poor Andy slide.

But now we have a President,
And if I was a man
I'd vote for him for breaking up
The wicked Ku-Klux Klan.

And if any man should ask me
If I would sell my vote,
I'd tell him I was not the one
To change and turn my coat;

If freedom seem'd a little rough
I'd weather through the gale;
And as to buying up my vote,
I hadn't it for sale.

I do not think I'd ever be
As slack as Jonas Handy;
Because I heard he sold his vote
For just three sticks of candy.

But when John Thomas Reeder brought
His wife some flour and meat,
And told he had sold his vote
For something good to eat,

You ought to seen Aunt Kitty raise,
And heard her blaze away;
She gave the meat and flour a toss,
And said they should not stay.

And I should think he felt quite cheap
For voting the wrong side;
And when Aunt Kitty scolded him,
He just stood up and cried.

But the worst fooled man I ever saw,
Was when poor David Rand
Sold out for flour and sugar;
The sugar was mixed with sand.

I'll tell you how the thing got out;
His wife had company,
And she thought the sand was sugar,
And served it up for tea.

When David sipped and sipped the tea,
Somehow it didn't taste right;
I guess when he found he was sipping sand
He was mad enough to fight.

The sugar looked so nice and white -
It was spread some inches deep -
But underneath was a lot of sand;
Such sugar is mighty cheap.

You'd laughed to seen Lucinda Grange
Upon her husband's track;
When he sold his vote for rations
She made him take 'em back.

Day after day did Milly Green
Just follow after Joe,
And told him if he voted wrong
To take his rags and go.

I think that Samuel Johnson said
His side had won the day,
Had not we women radicals
Just got right in the way.

And yet I would not have you think
That all our men are shabby;
But 'tis said in every flock of sheep
There will be one that's scabby.

I've heard, before election came
They tried to buy John Slade;
But he gave them all to understand
That he wasn't in that trade.

And we've got lots of other men
Who rally round the cause,
And go for holding up the hands
That gave us equal laws,

Who know their freedom cost too much
Of blood and pain and treasure,
For them to fool away their votes
For profit or for pleasure.

poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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The Storm

The clouds turned to gray
The air turned to cold
And I knew by that day
Some evil would unfold.
It arrived without a warning
Along with the pounding rain
And it was gone by the morning
As violently as it came.
But for that night I lived in terror
That night I lived in fright
With every sound I heard
With every flash of light.
Violently came the wind
Terrorizing with no form
Then came the thunder and lightning,
Arriving, was the storm.
Many trees I saw bent
Then God clapped his mighty hand
While many trees were refusing to fall,
But then, a tree didn't stand.
Rushing came the wind
Pounding came the rain
Crashing came the thunder
Quickly, came my pain.
Underneath my bed I hid
From the terror of the storm
And in pain and terror I cried
In horror and pain I moaned.
That night I lived in terror
That night I lived in fright
With every sound I heard
With every flash of light.
And the rain just kept falling
More tears I began to weep
For the wind just kept calling,
Then that night; I fell asleep.
Then morning she finally came
I awoke to the sound of peace and birds
The sound of thunder and rain was gone
Which had awoke my sleeping world.
Then outside towards the sky I stared,
To the clouds God he did call
I saw Gods hand moving the wind
Commanding the rain not to fall.
Then the sun began to shine
So on my knees I fell to pray
Then again, I began to cry
Thanking God; the storm had went away.

poem by Randy McClave
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The Change

Last year I heard the songs of birds,
And heard the trumpets of the bees.
I caught the winding river’s words,
And clutched at leaves of trees.

I heard the gales upon the height;
And heard each frightened windy rush,
I lay within the sultry night,
Eaves-dropping in the bush.

But now I walk within a town,
And hear the slyness of its feet.
Great cruel things stride up and down
Within a shady street.

I see quick things with ugly nails,
And hear their low half-smothered cries.
I hear men tell strange trembling tales
With big beseeching eyes.

I do not hear the singing bough.
I hear soft murders in a lane,
I do not feel the bush-call, now
I feel my brother’s pain.

poem by Leon Gellert
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Randolph

That night as Old Man McCoy fled through the woods, the trees in his path refused to budge. Their branches batted him like hands and smacked him in the face and chest and groin. Behind him the screams of his wife slowed his pace, as did the agonized pleas of his sons. Tears streamed down his face. But the gunshots urged him on faster, toward help, justice, he wasn't sure what. Over his shoulder he saw whorls of whitish smoke against the dark, and a corner of the sky lit up orange from the torched cabin. He'd known something awful was going to happen when he woke up, this morning. Lying in bed last night he'd heard two wildcats fighting. All day long it was too quiet. Then, catastrophe-fire and hot lead. After mid-night the trees turned to men and crowded in. As he ran the twigs snapped underfoot and he ran until the lights of the town came in view and he remembered it was New Year's. There would still be a few revellers at the tavern. He would round them up and return to what was left of the cabin. Nothing could persuade him not to. His poor wife! He was so ashamed. But, alive. Alive to make them pay. Alive to get revenge! So he ran on toward the light.

poem by Morgan Michaels
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We Can Make The Morning

(words & music by j. ramsey)
I just thought I heard a small voice crying
Looked again and saw that it was me
I feel like a little boy denying
That he fears the night cause he cant see
Then a larger thought said stop your crying
Dont be scared to search cause you may find
Fate holds out a candle for your footsteps
Time rolls back the shadows of your mind
Its a long, long lonely night
You can make the morning if you try
Its a long, long lonely night
Oh, we can make the morning if we try
Girl, we can make the morning you and i
Together, together, together
Loneliness is darkness first companion
Spend the night alone and faith may bend
Share it all and see how fear starts fading
Chase away the shadows with a friend
Dawns elusive light is just beginning
Now the day can push away the night
Dreams can make the sun feel much brighter
Hope creates a foothold for the light
Its a long, long lonely night
We can make the morning if we try
Its a long, long lonely night
We can make the morning if we try
Girl, we can make the morning you and i, oh
Together
Its a long, long lonely night
We can make the morning if we try
Its a long, long lonely night
We can make the morning if we try
Its a long, long lonely night
We can make the morning if we try

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Late August

There’s a chilly wind blowing this morning,
the black-collard barbet
flies into my study’s window
as if it can go right through it,
the big brown Labrador jumps
with locking jaws
trying to snatch it from the air,
there’s menace creeping into the morning,
menace coming from somewhere,

both dogs jump and try
to snap the postman’s hand in two,
while he is putting letters
in the mailbox,

last night the police
made a ruckus at two in the morning,
at the neighbours across the street,
hooted the neighbourhood awake
and as a mistake
was at the wrong address

and when I got back to bed,
I thought that I had heard something
and in t-shirt and shorts
went to investigate
with a shotgun in my hands
but it was only the wind
rustling through the trees,
blowing as it did
from the beginning of time.

This morning felt like Monday,
as if going to work
after a weekend
brought the responsibilities of living
back to me again.

poem by Gert Strydom
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i Thought I Heard A Man Cry Last Night

'I THOUGHT I HEARD A MAN CRY LAST NIGHT'

I thought I heard him weep
I thought I heard a man cry last night
He woke me from my sleep
I thought I heard a man cry last night
I heard his gentle sob,
I thought I heard a man cry last night
I wondered why he was so sad,
I thought I heard a man cry last night
Or was I going mad,
I thought I heard a man cry last night
I heard his cries subside
I thought I heard a man cry last night
Before I returned gently to my sleep,
I thought I heard a man cry last night
My Pillow doesnt tell me any lies, !

David Bennett.

poem by David Bennett
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Too Many Angels

Theres an angel on a ribbon
Hanging from the armoire door
Theres a cupid with his feet crossed
On the bird cage by the door
Theres a baby angel drummer
His eyes are open wide
And two more tiny cherubs
On the mantle side by side
Too many angels
Have seen me crying
Too many angels
Have heard you lying
There are photographs of children
All in their silver frames
On the window sills and tabletops
Lit by candle flames
And upon their angel faces
Lifes expectations climb
Where the moment has preserved them
From the ravages of time
Too many angels
Have seen me crying
Too many angels
Have heard you lying
Bring the morning on
Voices sing of day
I want to step out in the morning sun
Through the flood of tears
I want this darkness gone
Your sweet face appears
These apparitions coming one by one
But theres no end in sight
Only the dead of night
And too many angels
Too many angels
Have seen me crying
Too many angels
Have heard you lying
Too many angels
Bring the morning on
Voices sing of day
I want to step out in the morning sun
Through the flood of tears
I want to greet the dawn
Cast away these fears
Forget about the things we could have done
Bring the morning on
Voices sing of day
I want to watch the children as they run
Through the broken years
I want this darkness gone
Your sweet face appears
These apparitions coming one by one
But theres no end in sight
Only the dead of night
And too many angels

song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Uncle Arthur

Strikes the bell for 5 oclock, uncle arthur closes shop
Screws the tops on all the bottles, turns the lights out, locks it up
Climbs across his bike and hes away
Cycles past the gasworks, past the river, down the high street
Back to mother, its another empty day
Uncle arthur likes his mommy
Uncle arthur still reads comics
Uncle arthur follows batman
Round and round the rumours fly, how he ran away from mum
On his 32nd birthday, told her that hed found a chum
Mother cried and raved and yelled and fussed
Arthur left her no illusion, brought the girl round, save confusion
Sally was the real thing, not just lust
Uncle arthur vanished quickly
Uncle arthur and his new bride
Uncle arthur follows sally
Round and round goes arthurs head, hasnt eaten well for days
Little sally may be lovely, but cooking leaves her in a maze
Uncle arthur packed his bags and fled
Back to mother, alls forgiven, serving in the family shop
He gets his pocket money, hes well fed
Uncle arthur past the gasworks
Uncle arthur past the river
Uncle arthur down the high street
Uncle arthur follows mother

song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Night I Dreamed Of Heaven

LAST NIGHT I DREAMED OF HEAVEN
WRITER HANK WILLIAMS
Last night I dreamed of heaven and I saw my mother there
Standing with all the angels on a golden stair
I thought I heard her whisper welcome home my boy
Last night I dreamed of heaven and it filled my heart with joy
I heard the angels singing songs of peace and rest
And then there was a silence
Each eye looked toward the west
There sat my Saviour on his golden throne
Last night I dreamed of heaven my eternal home sweet home
Last night I dreamed of heaven that land so pure and sweet
And the joy within me made my glad heart weep
I was there with my Saviour free from grief and strife
Last night I dreamed of heaven the land of eternal life
I heard the angels singing songs of peace and rest
And then there was a silence
Each eye looked toward the west
There sat my Saviour on his golden throne
Last night I dreamed of heaven my eternal home sweet home

song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Partisan

When they poured across the border
I was cautioned to surrender,
This I could not do;
I took my gun and vanished.
I have changed my name so often,
Ive lost my wife and children
But I have many friends,
And some of them are with me.
An old woman gave us shelter,
Kept us hidden in the garret,
Then the soldiers came;
She died without a whisper.
There were three of us this morning
Im the only one this evening
But I must go on;
The frontiers are my prison.
Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing,
Through the graves the wind is blowing,
Freedom soon will come;
Then well come from the shadows.
Les allemands etaient chez moi,
Ils me dirent, signe toi,
Mais je nai pas peur;
Jai repris mon arme.
Jai change cent fois de nom,
Jai perdu femme et enfants
Mais jai tant damis;
Jai la france entie're.
Un vieil homme dans un grenier
Pour la nuit nous a cache,
Les allemands lont pris;
Il est mort sans surprise.
[the germans were at my home
They said, sign yourself,
But I am not afraid
I have retaken my weapon.
I have changed names a hundred times
I have lost wife and children
But I have so many friends
I have all of france
An old man, in an attic
Hid us for the night
The germans captured him
He died without surprise.]
Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing,
Through the graves the wind is blowing,
Freedom soon will come;
Then well come from the shadows.

song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Partisan

(leonard cohen)
When they poured across the border
I was cautioned to surrender,
This I could not do;
I took my gun and vanished.
I have changed my name so often,
Ive lost my wife and children
But I have many friends,
And some of them are with me.
An old woman gave us shelter,
Kept us hidden in the garret,
Then the soldiers came;
She died without a whisper.
There were three of us this morning
Im the only one this evening
But I must go on;
The frontiers are my prison.
Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing,
Through the graves the wind is blowing,
Freedom soon will come;
Then well come from the shadows.
Les allemands etaient chez moi,
Ils me dirent, rsigne toi,
Mais je nai pas peur;
Jai repris mon me.
[the germans were at my home
They said, sign yourself,
But I am not afraid
I have retaken my soul.]
Jai change cent fois de nom,
Jai perdu femme et enfants
Mais jai tant damis;
Jai la france entie're.
[Ive changed names a hundred times
I have lost wife and children
But I have so many friends
I have all of france]
Un vieil homme dans un grenier
Pour la nuit nous a cache,
Les allemands lont pris;
Il est mort sans surprise.
[an old man, in an attic
Hid us for the night
The germans captured him
He died without surprise.]
Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing,
Through the graves the wind is blowing,
Freedom soon will come;
Then well come from the shadows.

song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Barn at Willoughby's Farm

I have this recurring nightmare where
I'm wandering round a farm,
It's out in the middle of nowhere, just
A milking shed and a barn,
An ancient tractor sits by the house
But the blinds are pulled and drawn,
And it seems that the farmer left this place
Before Jacinth was born.

But ever I see her stand and wave
As she climbed aboard the bus,
Off for a life of adventure, not
Stuck here, like one of us,
She'd always wanted the country life
Away from the city's swell,
The day that she waved goodbye to us
Was my first real glimpse of hell!

‘Once I've settled, I'll write, ' she said,
‘Or else, there's always the phone;
I'll try to ring on a Friday night
When I'll catch you all at home! '
But she didn't ring, and she didn't write
And a month went by so soon,
She'd left in the middle of March, at night,
And then it was almost June!

I called on out to the agency
The office was next to the zoo,
She said they'd found her a pretty farm
That wanted a Jillaroo,
She'd cook and clean for the family,
And then work out on the farm,
Herding the lowing milkers in
To the milking shed by the barn.

The woman flicked through the client file
In a search for Jacinth's name,
She said, ‘That's strange, I've re-arranged
This file, but just the same,
I have no recollection of this
Girl, whatever she's called,
It could be another agency…'
But I thought the woman stalled!

I went to call at the depot where
The buses were parked at night,
I looked up the owner driver that
I'd seen when Jacinth took flight,
‘I don't remember the girl, ' he said,
‘But March was a fair way back,
She probably went to Willoughby's Farm
On the Strzelecki track.'

My heart sank into my boots at that,
I'd heard of that barren track,
There wasn't a working farm out there
Just bush and the bleak outback,
I packed up the old Toyota Ute
With a jerry can or two,
And headed on up to the Flinders
As I thought she'd want me to.

They hadn't seen her in Lyndhurst
What was left of the old ghost town,
I drove on up to Farina where
The buildings were falling down,
Then by the track on a tyre that sat
At the edge, on a pile of sand,
‘Five miles to Willoughby's Farm', the scrawl
Was writ in a shaky hand.

The farm was ruined and derelict,
The milking shed and the barn,
The tractor sat in a pile of rust
By the house of the ancient farm,
The roof had gone, had fallen in
But the barn was still intact,
And covered in dust by the old barn door
Was Jacinth's haversack.

I pushed the door and it opened up
With a creak of ages past,
I thought of the sweat on the farmer's brow
As he turned away, at the last,
But there in dry, brown dust of the floor
Was a slight but recent mound,
And a shovel leant by the cattle pen
As I fell on my knees, to the ground!

I have this recurring nightmare where
I'm wandering round a farm,
It's out in the middle of nowhere, just
A milking shed and a barn,
And the tears stream in this dreadful dream
To remember the pain and hurt;
With one last look at the haversack,
The shovel bit into the dirt!

15 August,2012

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The night wind

Have you ever heard the wind go "Yooooo"?
'T is a pitiful sound to hear!
It seems to chill you through and through
With a strange and speechless fear.
'T is the voice of the night that broods outside
When folk should be asleep,
And many and many's the time I've cried
To the darkness brooding far and wide
Over the land and the deep:
Whom do you want, O lonely night,
That you wail the long hours through?"
And the night would say in its ghostly way:
"Yoooooooo!
Yoooooooo!
Yoooooooo!"

My mother told me long ago
(When I was a little tad)
That when the night went wailing so,
Somebody had been bad;
And then, when I was snug in bed,
Whither I had been sent,
With the blankets pulled up round my head,
I'd think of what my mother'd said,
And wonder what boy she meant!
And "Who's been bad to-day?" I'd ask
Of the wind that hoarsely blew,
And the voice would say in its meaningful way:
"Yoooooooo!
Yoooooooo!
Yoooooooo!"

That this was true I must allow -
You'll not believe it, though!
Yes, though I'm quite a model now,
I was not always so.
And if you doubt what things I say,
Suppose you make the test;
Suppose, when you've been bad some day
And up to bed are sent away
From mother and the rest -
Suppose you ask, "Who has been bad?"
And then you'll hear what's true;
For the wind will moan in its ruefulest tone:
"Yoooooooo!
Yoooooooo!
Yoooooooo!"

poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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The Day That Time Would Stop!

The passageway was longer than he thought
He would have said,
It seemed to go forever,
But the words stayed in his head.
That drumming in his ears was surely
Just the lack of sound,
And could it be, he floated,
With his feet just off the ground?

The ambulance had called for him at just
On half past three,
He'd told his wife: ‘Don't bother,
It will go away, you'll see! '
His wife was more determined than she'd
Ever been before,
She dialled up on her mobile
And she waved him, at the door.

‘It's all just fuss and bother, this, ' he thought,
And flushed quite red,
The fellow in the ambulance
Looked grim, and shook his head.
He tried to give him oxygen, then
Called out to his mate:
‘You'd better put your foot down,
Or we might be there too late! '

He felt the lurch of speed, and heard the
Sirens start to wail,
He only felt embarrassment,
‘Such fuss! Beyond the pale! '
But then the light had faded in the
Middle of the day,
And that was when he found himself
Deep in that passageway!

The light became much brighter, at the end
He saw a door,
It slowly started opening,
He couldn't see much more,
But then he floated through it, standing
Stark within this room
Filled wall to wall with flowers that
Had just begun to bloom!

He stood there for a moment, he could not
Believe his eyes,
A crowd of happy people jumped
On out, and yelled: ‘Surprise! '
Then streamers and balloons appeared
And tangled round his feet,
He stared at them in wonder as
His heart had ceased to beat!

His father stood there grinning, he had died
Before his time
While his mother wiped a tear away,
She'd left when he was nine,
And all the aunts and uncles from
His distant memories,
Now stood and charged a glass to him,
And smiled, and shouted: ‘Cheers! '

‘He doesn't know what's happened, give him time, '
Said Uncle Ron,
‘We're just so glad to see you - My!
The weight that you've put on!
You must have seen it coming, all
That pain before you drop;
It's common to us all, you know,
The Day that Time would Stop! '

He paused to think about his wife, and
Wondered if she cried,
Or simply shrugged her shoulders when
She heard that he had died,
The heart that he no longer had
He knew would never mend;
He stood erect and dignified -
A funeral to attend!

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christmas Story 'believe

she was awoken with a loud thunderous sound
she jumped up and looked around.
it can't be santa claus? it just can't be.
mommy did'nt even have money to buy a tree.

she heard the sound one more time
and upon her roof they did climb.

the little pitter patter of hooves
above her head
made her turn and jump out of bed.

she ran to the window and
looked to the roof
she wanted to tell her mother
she did have the proof.

she saw something red
moving to the chimney
then she knew it had to be.
that santa claus is not only
in our hearts and minds
and will live throughout all time.

all children are supposed
to be asleep.
but through half closed eyes
they would peak.

she then heard the sounds in
the room below.
as she opened the door very slow.
to her surprise there was a tree
decorated 'oh so beautifully'.

and there under the tree
there was gifts galore
who would think - that they were poor.

as she started to look around
at the fireplace he was found.
he was having the milk and cookies
that were left that night.
' oh my gosh what a beautiful sight'.

he then put his finger to his nose
and just like the book
up the chimney he rose.

she went back to her room, and climbed
back into her bed, said her prayers
and laid down her head.
she awoke the next morning
thinking it was a dream.
when she heard her mother scream.

how is this possible? how can it be?
'all these presents, and with a tree.'
as she ran to her mothers side
the tears started to fill her eyes.

i don't know who did this? i have no clue
and i don't know what i should do.
she then told her what she heard
and saw the night before
when she opened up her bedroom door.

as we opened up the first package
from under the tree
we saw a metal frame with one word.
BELIEVE
now we put this question to you.
do you believe? is this story true?

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heard Somebody Cry

(I thought I heard somebody cry--
I though I heard somebody cry)
I went to see what I could find
Like flowers in the dead of night
Like shadows in the moonlight--
I though I heard somebody cry
A choir with a single voice--a picnic on a cliff
Antenna like an insect--to pick up all your thoughts
Chorus
It isnt true
I am not the ghost
Without a soul . . . come
Listen to my heart
You feel the beat . . . stop
Listen to the sound
Of moving feet . . . walk
Through the halls at night
When Im asleep
I dont believe . . .i dont believe
The shoe is on the other foot--the glove is on the fist
The first is like a cannonball--but it feels like a kiss
I got a bed thats real soft--in a room thats always sad
I thought I heard a window sigh--
I though I heard somebody cry
Chorus
A choir with a single voice--a picnic on a cliff
Antenna like an insect--to pick up all your thoughts
I sip the running water--like rivers from your eyes
I thought I heard somebody cry--somebody might be lost
I thought I heard somebody cry--somebody might be lost
I thought I heard somebody cry--i thought Id go and see
I thought I heard somebody cry--somebody might be me

song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Mother

I thought i saw my mother
Emerging from the bric-a brac
Silent sifting through bargain rack
In search of any ornament fine
Cut price silver service
Where nobody comes to dine.
I thought i heard my mother
Call me in for tea
One summer's night when fading light
Caught me in reverie.
We sometimes talk in dreams now
That's how it has to be.
I always see my mother
At birthday and Christmas time
Her laugh and gentle smile
I reply and watch her mime
Teenager at the table
When time was on our side
Life is an endless fable
Where hopes ebb with the tide.
I thought i saw my mother
Laying in a care home bed
My sister said she was poorly
But i knew she was dead.
She didn't die that instant
The time she was so ill
she went so many months before
Then heartache broke her will
I thought i saw my mother
One clear and moonlit night
I felt her in the wind
A gentle breeze so slight
And i heard her in the morning
When birdsong reassured
We'd meet again in heaven
Our broken hearts both cured.

poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Little Sister

The wind knocks at the window,
And my heart is full of fear,
For I know when it is calling
That some evil thing is near.
It whispers in the chimney,
And I strike the log to flame,
Lest it come down and take me
To the land that hath no name.
For once I had a sister,
Who now am left alone,
And here we sat together,
When the wind did sigh and moan.
There came a gentle knocking
Quick and sudden at the door,
And my sister hushed my terror,
Saying, ''Tis the wind, a-stór!'
She took my arms from round her,
She kissed me, cheek and chin,
But I cried, 'Oh, little sister,
Do not let the robber in!'
She rose up from me laughing,
But her face was strange and white,
And she opened wide the window,
Looking long into the night.

And I said, 'Oh, little sister,
There is on your cheek a tear!'
''Tis but the rain,' she whispered;
But my heart was full of fear.
And I said, 'Oh, little sister,
There's a hand upon the door.'
Soft she chid me from my crying,
Saying, ''Tis the wind, a-stór.'
And turning from me smiling,
She took down the bar and chain,
But her cheek was like the lily
As she went into the rain.
And I said, 'Oh, little sister,
Will you then return no more?'
But I only heard the pushing
Of the wind upon the door.
Long I cried, 'Oh, little sister,
Will you soon come back again?'
But I only heard the beating
Of the storm upon the pane.
Now my mother sits in sorrow,
Weeping all the livelong day;
And I think she dreads the robber
Who did take her child away.
So I put up bar and shutter
When the wind goes howling by,
For I know when it comes knocking
That some evil thing is nigh.

poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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