The Devil and Demon Park
The girl that captured my heart, I knew
As Angela Dupree,
She stood at the centre of every group
At the university,
The comb in her hair was tortoiseshell,
Her necklace, crosses and beads
And silver bangles jangled her wrists
While her dress trailed lace at the knees.
The hair that fell at her shoulders was
More silvery then, than grey,
She said: ‘It's a strange genetic thing
That came from my grandma's way! '
We went to the self-same English tute
But she barely spared me a glance,
She favoured the sweatier, sporting type
So I didn't stand much of a chance!
I'd watch her in the refectory
As she sipped her herbal teas,
But glanced away from the leering mob,
From their ribald jokes, and pleas,
As each of them tried to seize her hand
And vie for her every smile;
While soaking in their adoring spin
She basked in their wit, and guile!
They'd form a huddle beside the quad
With Angela at the core,
And pass the tokes with their feeble jokes
But kept their eyes on the door,
She came to the tutes all glassy-eyed,
And dreamed, not saying a word,
‘Til the tutor noticed, took her aside,
But I doubt if she even heard.
She failed a paper on Rupert Brooke,
I saw the look of alarm,
She'd never failed an assignment yet
But I saw the tracks in her arm,
Her face grew troubled, her brow was dark
With the slide, already begun,
Down to the Devil and Demon Park
And on to oblivion!
I found her sitting alone one day
And sat right down by her side,
‘Your ‘friends' will take you to hell and back
But they're just along for the ride! '
She looked at me and she curled her lip:
‘So why would you even care? '
But she saw the love-light shine in my eyes,
As I caught the scent of her hair!
She wept, and muttered: ‘It's far too late,
I'm weak, and sick as can be!
All I can think is - how can I score?
Get rid of this devil in me! '
‘There isn't an easy path, ' I said,
‘But start by taking my arm,
I'll see you clear, though the demons jeer,
And I'll keep you free from harm! '
I spent a week in her unit there
As she twisted, turned, perspired,
I mopped her brow and I gave her strength
Though she swore, and cursed, and cried.
There were times that she said she hated me,
There were times that she lay and wept,
She would suffer the fits of pain and cramps,
But there at the end, she slept!
I'd like to say that it all worked out
That we fell in love in the end,
But once recovered, she kissed me, said:
‘I will treasure you, as a friend! '
I was there when she married a banker's son,
Was feeling a tear begin,
But she saw me then, and she whispered, ‘Hush!
An Angel has just come in! '
poem by David Lewis Paget (3 August 2012)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Courting Disaster
I was twenty-three when I saw her first,
Without a word of a lie,
She had wandered into the woods by me
With a basket, held on high,
Her auburn hair reflected the sun
And she flashed me a dazzling smile,
That turned my head to the way she led
As I followed her, over the stile.
She skipped along at a steady pace
Weaved in and out through the trees,
Collected the broad-rimmed mushrooms there
As she stopped, and fell to her knees,
Her dress flared out as it caught the wind
And her hair was floated wide,
I hid by a tree, and held my breath
As I thought of her, as a bride.
She had such a look of innocence,
Was free as the birds of the air,
The legs and the grace of a peasant girl
Brought up in the great out-there,
She ran right up to a Woodsman's house
That was hidden by branch and vine,
Then danced right in through the open door,
And then I knew; she was mine!
The door was closed when I finally knocked
But I heard a terrible moan,
And minutes later the door unlocked,
In the hall stood a fusty crone,
She stared at me through her hoary eyes
With never a hint of grace,
‘What do you want? ' she growled at me,
For the shock must have shown in my face.
‘That girl, who danced in a moment back,
I'm here to discover her name.'
‘There is no girl, ' said the ancient hack,
‘You'd better return where you came! '
‘I saw her enter, I must insist,
I'll not be gulled by your lies! '
‘That girl's been dead for a long time back,
You'd better leave now, if you're wise! '
She slammed the door in my face just then
So I wandered back through the trees,
A raincloud covered the midday sun
And I felt the chill of a breeze,
The rain came down as I walked back home,
Climbed over the ricketty stile,
Was drenched to the skin as I wandered in,
And thought to resort to guile.
For days I lingered by that old track,
The place that I'd seen her first,
I felt so miserable, holding back,
As I thought, and feared for the worst,
What if the girl was a sprite, who'd died,
Just as the old crone said?
Try as I might, I couldn't believe,
Nor get her out of my head.
I finally went to the Woodsman's house
And I hid in a patch by the vine,
When suddenly out of the door came tripping
The girl, with her eyes a-shine,
She skipped away with her basket, filled
With linen and loaves and cheese,
And I caught her then in a shady glade
As she stopped, and fell to her knees.
‘I hoped you'd come, ' were the words she said
As she laid a cloth on the ground,
‘I have to hide from that grey old witch
So I go where I'll never be found.'
She broke the bread and she poured the wine
And we ate and drank in the glade,
My mind was filled with a sudden chill
But I thought of fun in the shade.
‘So when are you going to kiss me, then? '
She said when we finished our feast,
‘I've fed your animal spirits, now,
It's time I was paid, at least! '
I kissed her there in the shady glade
And we tumbled there in the leaves,
Then I fell asleep, and she'd gone when I
Awoke, and the heart, it grieves.
I stumbled home, but was feeling faint
I had aches and pains in my head,
I staggered through to the bedroom, then
I found her asleep in my bed,
She woke and sat, and she stared at me
But her face had begun to change,
There were lines and wrinkles around her eyes
And her hair was grey with age.
‘I need you now that my time is short,
Come and rest your weary head, '
I caught a glimpse in the mirror then
And it filled me full of dread,
For the face of a man of middle age
Stared back at me from the glass,
‘Just what have to done to me? ' I said…
‘Do you really have to ask? '
‘I fed on your animal needs, and you
Gave something to set me free,
If you want me to be a bright young thing
Then you must replenish me.'
I saw she aged by the minute there
And she soon let out a moan,
For lying in bed was a figure of dread,
That hoary old witch, the crone!
I'm far too weak to get out of bed,
But Elli goes out on her own,
She carries her basket into the wood
For the mushrooms she eats alone,
My beard is grey and I dread each day
As she bleeds my life from its core,
But she's as lovely as ever she was
At a hundred and twenty-four!
26 October 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Face Smiles Back Easily - Hundred Mile High City B-side
Its not the way that you look
Or the way that you comb your hair
I know well always be there
By the look, by the book
And your troops and your devil may care
I know well always be there
I know well always be there
And by the way your eyes are shining through
Theres nothing to do but wake up in light
And like the way your eyes they shine with the sun
And lighten everyone who wakes up in time to see
The face smiled back easily
I know well always be there
By the look, by the book
And your troops as your devil may care
I know well always be there
I know well always be there
Its not the way that you look
Or the way that you comb your hair
I know well always be there (x3)
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strangers Eyes
All alone, a rainy night
No one around but I fell someone watching me
I look around, the street is bare nobody there
I wonder what it could be
As I turned to walk away
Suddenly I saw his face
Never minding that we were alone
Didnt care about the time, at the moment I was felling fine
I was looking into strangers eyes
(he caught me by surprise)
They looked right through me
(he looking into my eyes)
Never knew
Never, ever thought that love could be
(thats when he came)
He came and captured me
Like a scene out of a dream, I cant believe it
Kind of strange and familiar
But in his eyes I get a sign, I get a feeling
I get the feeling he knows me
Maybe I could stay a while, maybe I could make you smile
I dont have much to do
Maybe we could walk awhile
Maybe, maybe we could talk awhile
Cant help looking into strangers eyes
I was looking into strangers eyes
(he caught me by surprise)
They looked right through me
(he looked into my eyes)
Never knew
Never, ever thought that love could be
(thats when he came)
He came and captured me
How was I to know this would happen
Thought I didnt know I would meet this stranger
Its the kind of thing that dreams are made of
And I keep thinking about strangers eyes
I was looking into strangers eyes
(he caught me by surprise)
They looked right through me
(he looked into my eyes)
Never knew
Never, ever thought that love could be
(thats when he came to me)
He came and captured me
song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Last Judgment
With beating heart and lagging feet,
Lord, I approach the Judgment-seat.
All bring hither the fruits of toil,
Measures of wheat and measures of oil;
Gold and jewels and precious wine;
No hands bare like these hands of mine.
The treasure I have nor weighs nor gleams:
Lord, I can bring you only dreams.
In days of spring, when my blood ran high,
I lay in the grass and looked at the sky,
And dreamed that my love lay by my side--
My love was false, and then she died.
All the heat of the summer through,
I dreamed she lived, that her heart was true
Throughout the hours of the day I slept,
But woke in the night, at times, and wept.
The nights and days, they went and came,
I lay in shadow and dreamed of fame;
And heard men passing the lonely place,
Who marked me not and my hidden face.
My strength waxed faint, my hair grew grey;
Nothing but dreams by night and day.
Some men sicken, with wine and food;
I starved on dreams, and found them good.
* * * * * * *
This is the tale I have to tell--
Show the fellow the way to hell.
Going Grey
I woke up late this morning
And looked into the mirror
But the woman looking back at me
Had a grey streak in her hair
Where did this grey streak come from?
It wasn’t there last night
How did it get into my hair?
My god I looked a sight
I washed and I washed my hair 3 times
And washed my hair some more
But the grey it would not come out
And I was getting stressed for sure
I grabbed the phone to ring my friend
And said get your arse round here
I have a big problem that you need to fix
And bring all your hairdressing gear
Half an hour seemed like a life time
Before my friend was here
She said what’s all the fuss about
I sobbed and wept oh dear
I removed the towel from round my head
Well I didn’t want anyone to see
Look I’ve got greyness in my hair
And I’m only thirty three
She sat me down to have a look
And said don’t worry dear
We can soon cover all that up
With hair dye, so don’t fear
She put this dye upon my head
And then made me a brew
He had to wait for ages
Until the colour did come threw
So now I feel much better
And don’t need to get irate
I don’t have any grey streaks now
And my hair looks really great
poem by Lynn Cowman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Merciless Jill
I was in the forest one day,
With my friends and marrows,
All of us were very gay,
We were happy and out of sorrows.
Suddenly my eyes caught a pretty jill,
She was pacing like a hart,
To talk to her was my will,
She made place in my heart.
I forgot all seeing her glamour,
Going to her was my intention,
I was captivated by her murmur,
She turned back realizing my action.
As moon was her beautiful face,
And eyes were brighter than stars,
There was smile on her face,
She looked as she would reside on stars.
Her foot were light and hair long,
And was attrative, too much smart,
To the fairies, she must belong,
And her song touched my heart.
She pointed at me to move with her,
We were advancing an edificeward,
She was too, I was very gay with her,
Touched my heart her every word.
Reaching edifice, it began to rain,
He face turned into full of pain,
Telling her tragedy, her eyes began to rain,
I consoled and assured her to fain.
There she fed me fairy's food,
And her eyes showed love for me,
She sang a song in fresh mood,
Hearing her song, I was very gee.
She refused me to go back,
And gave me a bed to sleep,
I felt comfort when I put my back,
She came and lulled me asleep.
My eyes opened at mid of night,
In slaughter house I found myself,
I stood and saw a horrible sight,
Cut heads were lying and nowhere my elf,
Suddenly she appeared with a sword,
And was advancing towards me,
She didn't speak even a word,
And reaching, she stood near me.
While laughing she turned a bad spirit,
I was about to be slain by her hand,
With God's grace, she was badly hit,
By an angel, she killed and fell on the sand.
(14th February,2006)
poem by Mohammad Muzzammil
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grey Eyes
SHE glanced across the path to me,
Grey eyes!
Her looks were kisses plain to see.
I gave her glances back to her—
Glad eyes!
She saw the lifting of despair.
From memory a face looked out,
Dim eyes!
No years could sour that love to doubt.
My soul would nevermore be lone—
Bride's eyes!
Hearts still were waiting for my own.
Our souls uncurtained then, perchance—
Deep eyes!
Each built an epoch in a glance.
Out of her fellowship so free
Light eyes!
She gave some gladness unto me.
And I gave? As we turned apart—
Dead eyes!
I saw the shudder in her heart.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Colleagues
We have been friends for many years
and working colleagues for most of them.
Today we're celebrating a friends promotion
and that happens every now and then.
We found ourselves sitting and talking together
about mutual friends and past events.
She was giving her opinion on a current situation,
and I agreed that she was making good sense.
She then leaned over and whispered quietly,
for the first time I noticed the texture of her skin.
I caught the aroma of her hair and perfume,
and something special was pulling me in.
I never once imagined us in this situation,
she paused as though she felt something too.
She pulled away and looked into my eyes,
and we didn't know what else we should do.
She smiled as though something should happen,
her lips opened to reveal the tip of her tongue.
I became nervous and overwhelmed by her presence,
but somehow knew this couldn't be wrong.
Her temptation was too much, so I kissed her,
and even though it only lasted a short while,
the experience brought all manner of stirring emotions,
and she gave me such a tremendous smile.
'Wow! Where did that come from? ' she whispered.
As she relaxed her hand glanced pass my knee.
'I'm sorry, ' she said, 'I didn't realise the extent of your desires
and how they've also had an effect on me.
Shall we discreetly leave this celebration party,
we've got things to finish with utmost haste.
We can discuss the how's and now's later
when we've put our desires in place.'
poem by Tex T Sarnie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beginning, The
Some day I shall rise and leave my friends
And seek you again through the world's far ends,
You whom I found so fair
(Touch of your hands and smell of your hair!),
My only god in the days that were.
My eager feet shall find you again,
Though the sullen years and the mark of pain
Have changed you wholly; for I shall know
(How could I forget having loved you so?),
In the sad half-light of evening,
The face that was all my sunrising.
So then at the ends of the earth I'll stand
And hold you fiercely by either hand,
And seeing your age and ashen hair
I'll curse the thing that once you were,
Because it is changed and pale and old
(Lips that were scarlet, hair that was gold!),
And I loved you before you were old and wise,
When the flame of youth was strong in your eyes,
-- And my heart is sick with memories.
poem by Rupert Brooke
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The Beginning
Some day I shall rise and leave my friends
And seek you again through the world's far ends,
You whom I found so fair
(Touch of your hands and smell of your hair!),
My only god in the days that were.
My eager feet shall find you again,
Though the sullen years and the mark of pain
Have changed you wholly; for I shall know
(How could I forget having loved you so?),
In the sad half-light of evening,
The face that was all my sunrising.
So then at the ends of the earth I'll stand
And hold you fiercely by either hand,
And seeing your age and ashen hair
I'll curse the thing that once you were,
Because it is changed and pale and old
(Lips that were scarlet, hair that was gold!),
And I loved you before you were old and wise,
When the flame of youth was strong in your eyes,
- And my heart is sick with memories.
poem by Rupert Brooke (1906)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Boy's Trials
When I was but a little lad
One thing I could not bear,
It was to stand at mother's knee
And have her comb my hair.
They didn't keep boys' hair as short
As it's kept now-a-days,
And mine was always tangled up
In twenty different ways.
I'd twist my mouth and grit my teeth,
And say it wasn't fair-
It was a trial, and no mistake,
When mother combed my hair.
She'd brush and brush each stubborn curl
That grew upon my pate,
And with her scissors nip and clip
To make the edges straight.
Then smooth it down until it shone,
While I would grin and bear,
And feel a martyr through and through,
When mother combed my hair.
She'd take my round chin in her hand
And hold it there the while
She made the parting carefully,
Then tell me with a smile:
'Don't push your cap down on your curls
And spoil my work and care;
He is a pretty little lad
When mother combs his hair.'
I'd hurry out and rumple up
That mop of hair so thick-
A vandal, I, for she had worked
So hard to make it slick-
And wish I were a grown-up man
So nobody would dare
To put a washrag in my ears,
Or comb my tangled hair.
Heigho! now that I'm bald and gray,
Methinks I would be glad
To have her smooth my brow and cheeks,
And whisper, 'Mother's lad!'
A longing for the care-free days
Doth take me unaware;
To stand, a boy, at mother's knee
And have her comb my hair.
poem by Jean Blewett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Remember - Loss Through The Eyes Of A Child
I remember
The times when we
Watched the sunset
I could see the reflection
In your eyes
I remember
Sitting on the brick wall
Along St. Angela’s Street
The time when you almost fell off
And cracked your head open
I remember
Chasing butterflies
At Wolf Brook
No matter how hard we tried
We couldn’t catch up with them
I remember
Lunch times at school
The dinner lady looking at you
With surprised eyes
Because you wanted extra veg
I remember
When you told me the news
Leukaemia
That one word
Keeps sounding in my head
I remember
Seeing you there
Hair falling out from the chemo
Frail and weak
Not being able to stand
I remember
Trying my hardest
Not to break down and cry
At the sight of seeing my best friend
Hurting and in so much pain
I remember
Walking down long corridors
Visiting your hospital bed
Wanting to stay with you
Forever and never leaving your side
I remember
That phone call
All the tears I shed that day
And all the tears I’ve shed since
You passed away
I will always remember
Watching the sunset
St. Angela’s Street
Chasing butterflies
Lunch times
Leukaemia
Holding back the tears
Long corridors
Phone calls
Losing my best friend
But most of all
I will always remember you.
Thy Will Be Done!
I always thought that Jean La Mare was strange,
Gave me the creeps,
With lank, uncared for russet hair
And eyes with depths and deeps,
She hung her head when walking by
Wore dresses to her shins,
She had no friends at school, at lunch
Sat by the rubbish bins.
Her father was the picture of a
Martinet of old,
Bolt upright, at attention he
Would rant at her, and scold.
An Army Colonel, long retired
His wife dead in the ground,
His thoughts for bringing daughters up
Were ancient, and profound.
She dared not answer back, nor baulk
At anything he said,
He kept her close, so close we thought
That she slept in his bed.
We never saw her out of school
She cooked and cleaned and swept,
When asked if she'd be at the Ball,
She turned away, and wept.
Time passed, and we had left the school,
Got on with living life,
I met someone, and pretty soon
Had caught myself a wife,
But my old friend from schooldays
Richard Carson, lived alone,
He said he'd not met anyone
Who thrilled him to the bone.
We'd all turned just on thirty when
He dropped the big surprise,
He said that he'd asked Jean La Mare!
I answered, 'Is that wise? '
It seems the Martinet had died,
Was safely in his box,
So Jean was free, and so was he
To tie the wedding knots.
I saw her at the wedding there,
The first time then for years,
I saw her laugh for once, she laughed
So much, it came to tears.
They seemed so happy in that church,
Her burden dead and gone,
But Richard told me later of
Her curse - 'Thy Will Be Done! '
For every evening of her life
She'd get down on her knees,
Before a varnished wooden box
And pray that she had pleased!
The box stood on the mantelpiece
And Richard dared not ask
Just what was in that box; he thought
It was her father's ash!
She'd pray and ask for guidance, then
She'd listen in the gloom,
He never heard a murmur but, she did,
Before that tomb!
She'd answer statements no-one made,
Would wail, then plead, implore,
While Richard stayed away and hid,
Stood listening by the door!
He asked her what her father said
When he'd approached him once,
The old man turned and marched away,
He'd felt quite like a dunce!
He'd asked if he could take her out,
The Colonel stood and glared:
'If you should even speak to her, young man,
I'll see you dead! '
But Jean had blushed and looked away,
And wouldn't answer then,
She muttered: 'He just didn't want me
Mixing with young men! '
But then she started acting strange,
Would slyly look away,
Whenever he came in the room
As she was going to pray.
He came to see me, looking ill,
He said he was unwell,
That Jean was getting stranger by the day
His life was hell!
She'd served him up a meal that made
Him sick, perspire and weak,
I told him he should get away...
He found it hard to speak!
I didn't want to interfere
But things were looking grim,
I went around to see them, well, not her,
I cared for him.
She flashed a look of hate at me,
Unbridled, undisguised,
She looked like some fanatic with
Grey analytic eyes.
She left us then to talk, and I
Saw on the mantelpiece,
The box that he'd described to me,
I said, 'Just call the Police! '
I'd flipped the clasp, the front swung down
It opened up to dread,
For staring at us both, we saw
His eyeless, staring head!
Then Jean came back, let out a scream,
Attacked me with a knife,
I caught her wrist, said: 'Richard,
Just restrain your crazy wife! '
She fell down on her knees and cried:
'I tried to be a son! '
Then listened, as if hearing it,
Then said, 'Thy will be done! '
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mexicali Blue
Laid back in an old saloon, with a peso in my hand,
Watchin' flies and children on the street,
And I catch a glimpse of black-eyed girls who giggle when I smile,
There's a little boy who wants to shine my feet.
And it's three days ride from Bakersfield and I don't know why I came.
I guess I came to keep from payin' dues.
So instead I've got a bottle and a girl who's just fourteen,
And a damn good case of the Mexicali Blues. Yeh!
Is there anything a man don't stand to lose,
When the devil wants to take it all away?
Cherish well your thoughts, and keep a tight grip on your booze,
Cause thinkin' and drinkin' are all I have today.
She said her name was Billy Jean and she was fresh in town.
I didn't know a stage line ran from Hell.
She had raven hair, a ruffled dress, a necklace made of gold,
All the french perfume you'd care to smell.
She took me up into her room and whispered in my ear,
"Go on, my friend, do anything you choose."
Now I'm payin' for those happy hours I spent there in her arms,
With a lifetime's worth of the Mexicali Blues.
Is there anything a man don't stand to lose,
When the devil wants to take it all away?
Cherish well your thoughts, and keep a tight grip on your booze
Cause thinkin' and drinkin' are all I have today.
And then a man rode into town, some thought he was the law.
Billy Jean was waitin' when he came.
She told me he would take her, if I didn't use my gun,
I'd have no one but myself to blame.
I went down to those dusty streets, blood was on my mind.
I guess that stranger hadn't heard the news
Cause I shot first and killed him, Lord, he didn't even draw
And he made me trade the gallows for the Mexicali Blues.
Is there anything a man don't stand to lose
When he lets a woman hold him in her hands?
He just might find himself out there on horseback in the dark
Just ridin' and runnin' across those desert sands
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Henry George
(Melbourne)
I CAME to buy a book. It was a shop
Down in a narrow quiet street, and here
They kept, I knew, these socialistic books.
I entered. All was bare, but clean and neat.
The shelves were ranged with unsold wares; the counter
Held a few sheets and papers. Here and there
Hung prints and calendars. I rapped, and straight
A young Girl came out through the inner door.
She had a clear and simple face; I saw
She had no beauty, loveliness, nor charm,
But, as your eyes met those grey light-lit eyes
Like to a mountain spring so pure, you thought:
'He'd be a clever man who looked, and lied!'
I asked her for the book. . . . We spoke a little.
Her words were as her face was, as her eyes.
Yes, she'd read many books like this of mine:
Also some poets, Shelley, Byron too,
And Tennyson, but 'poets only dreamed!'
Thus, then, we talked, until by chance I spoke
A phrase and then a name. 'Twas 'Henry George.'
Her face lit up. O it was beautiful,
Or never woman's face was! 'Henry George?'
She said. And then a look, a flush, a smile,
Such as sprung up in Magdalenè's cheek
When some voice uttered Jesus, made her angel.
She turned and pointed up the counter. I,
Loosing mine eyes from that ensainted face,
Looked also. 'Twas a print, a common print,
The head and shoulders of a man. She said,
Quite in a whisper: 'That's him, Henry George!'
Darling, that in this life of wrong and woe,
The lovely woman-soul within you brooded
And wept and loved and hated and pitied,
And knew not what its helplessness could do,
Its helplessness, its sheer bewilderment —
That then those eyes should fall, those angel eyes,
On one who'd brooded, wept, loved, hated, pitied,
Even as you had, but therefrom had sprung
A hope, a plan, a scheme to right this wrong,
And make this woe less hateful to the sun —
And that pure soul had found its Master thus
To listen to, remember, watch and love,
And trust the dawn that rose up through the dark:
O this was good
For me to see, as for some weary hopeless
Longer and toiler for 'the Kingdom of Heaven'
To stand some lifeless twilight hour, and hear,
There in a dim-lit house of Lazarus,
Mary who said: 'Thus, thus he looked, he spake,
The Master!' — So to hear her rapturous words,
And gaze upon her up-raised heavenly face!
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Night Visitor
Three times the knock it came to me
and opening up the door
I saw no person standing there
for help or succour plea.
I sat back down to lift the book
and Donne his Epicedes,
beside the embers I had sat,
three times again the sound.
My heart it stilled,
my heart it froze,
for no wind blew the cottage sky,
alone but lit by moon.
The sound again did slowly make,
was someone dead or going home?
for I with book and embers stood
afraid and now alone.
I stood and to the knock at once,
a soul upon my door,
for only wood could make that sound,
that I could hear again.
I slowly lifted up the latch,
and fearly opened up,
the door it let the ember glow
outside into the path.
I looked to see into the dark,
and there an Angel girl,
of long black hair,
and handsome form
did stand and beckon on.
Out into forest I was brought,
with hand and heart entwined.
We danced by pines,
and kissed by stars,
a garland she did make.
And oh! what night of reveries,
and oh! what night of care,
my youth returned again to make,
our love upon the carpet moss
alone lit by the moon.
And when awoke, I saw was gone,
the angel girl and joy,
I thought that I had dreamed
the scene beneath the single star.
But standing up I made my way
the cottage open door,
the fireside chair alone it kept
the poems for resting there.
And in the morning by the sun,
a light on pathway shone.
A garland made of pines and cones
lay there upon the step.
Let us not laugh at reveries
of love the heart can make,
the angel girl, she beckons
on to mossy carpet heart,
as lit by forest moon.
poem by Bernard Kennedy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Devil With The Black Dress On
Wash off those scabs dear
or fingernail pick them clean
Pray to all your long lost demons
and justify your means
Devil has a new shape
Devil has a new ride
Devil has a problem but he locks it up inside
Shit angel
Kids sure like the devil these days
and I'm the devil with the black dress on
Do you want to own me angel
cause I own you now you're gone
Kids sure like the devil these days
and I'm the devil with the black dress on
Do you want to hate me angel
cause I hate you now you're gone
Did you believe it cause I said so
Did you believe it was true
Did you believe it cause I said so angel
I sure lied to you
Did you believe it cause I said so
Did you believe it was true
I'm eternal and infernal and I sure lied to you
Shit angel
Kids sure like the devil these days
and I'm the devil with the black dress on
Do you want to own me angel
cause I own you now you're gone
Kids sure like the devil these days
and I'm the devil with the black dress on
Do you want to hate me angel
cause I hate you now you're gone
Good girl with the black eyes
Believe in future past
Everything that I want happens
See how long that lasts
Devil has a hot rod
Devil high on speed
Devil has a black dress
So her arms can bleed
Kids sure like the devil these days
and I'm the devil with the black dress on
Do you want to know me angel
cause I know you now you're gone
Kids sure like the devil these days
and I'm the devil with the black dress on
Do you want to hurt me angel
cause I'm hurting now you're gone
Go go go gone
Go go go gone
Go go go go go go go
Gone
song performed by by Jack Off Jill from Sexless Demons And Scars
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Failure
THE BOY went out from the ranges grim,
And the breath of the mountains went with him;
With a song in his heart and a smile on his face,
And a light in his eyes for a foremost place:
And the good green earth, and the salt sea spray,
And the soft blue skies, they were his that day;
And, like Eden, ringed with a golden fire—
Afar rose the Land of His Heart’s Desire.
The boy went down to the city’s strife,
And his face was lost in the surge of life;
But a Power that he did not understand
Had nerved his brain and his fighting hand.
And he strove and failed, and he rose and won—
And he failed again ere the fight was done;
But he battled on when the days were dire
To win to the Land of His Heart’s Desire.
And there, in the heart of the stress and din,
’Mid want and labour and wealth and sin,
The strong man struggled with shining eyes,
And forced a passage, and grasped the prize.
And he cried to the Power who had lent the fire:
“Lo! Fame is the Land of My Heart’s Desire!
Give the cup to me with a beaded brim.”
And the Power that he knew not gave it him.
But the air is keen on the Cliffs of Fame,
And the shafts that fly have a deadly aim!
With a foothold scarce, and a sleepless dread
For the gulfs below and the heights o’erhead,
He cried to the Power who had steeled his hand:
“I am outcast yet from my Fairyland!
For Fame is a land where no strength may tire,
But Love is the Land of My Heart’s Desire!”
Then there came to the man all his dream of Love,
With the brow of snow and the eyes of a dove,
With the glint of the sun on her wavy hair,
And her soul as pure as her face was fair.
Like a living lily to him she came,
Till his eyes were wet and his soul was flame,
And she called to him, with an outstretched hand,
And they entered into the Promised Land.
But there came a day when he asked his soul,
“Is this the land, and is this the goal?”
In his heart there lay what his lips denied—
The pang of a hunger unsatisfied.
“For Fame,” he said, “and for Love I wrought;
They are not the things that I should have sought:
’Tis to boundless power that my dreams aspire—
And Wealth is the Land of My Heart’s Desire!”
Then the Power that he did not understand
Gave him ships and houses and gold and land,
And the man’s power grew with each passing year;
But his thoughts were vexed with a sleepless fear,
And his hair grew gray with the iron strain
Of the dread of loss and the lust of gain,
And he bowed his head on his hands and said.
“All things are mine, but my heart is dead!”
And he thought of the boy from the ranges grim
With the breath of the mountains over him,
With a song in his heart and a smile on his face,
And a light in his eyes for a foremost place,
And the good green earth and the salt sea spray,
And the soft blue skies that were his that day,
When, like Eden, ringed with a golden fire,
Afar rose the Land of His Heart’s Desire.
Then clear on his startled ear there fell
A voice like the sound of a silver bell:
“To each is the work that he best can do,
But you turned from the work when it called to you.
And you sought instead for the vulgar praise,
For the lips of love, and for prosperous days.
And with all that the world can give you here,
You have lost the thing that you hold most dear.
For who hears the word that the Gods inspire—
In his work finds the Land of His Heart’s Desire.”
poem by George Essex Evans
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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Swan Song
Her hair was as black as a starling's tail,
Her cheeks as pale as a swan,
Her eyes, like two slim moonstones, glowed
And her mouth was the Holy Grail.
She'd played in the dirt of the village street
So long ago, so long...
She'd swum in the pools of the mountain stream,
But now, that girl had gone.
While I still rise with the early bird
To tend to my father's fields,
As the only son of an only son
I watched the woman leave.
She cried sweet tears as she said farewell
And vowed to come back, and soon,
But the village streets of a western town
Hold nothing for Ling Xiaodan.
The weeks went by, then the months and years
And I heard of her now and then,
She was dressed in expensive clothes, I heard,
She was driving a shiny car;
She was seen at the Beijing Opera
By a man who worked at the door,
'She glided by like a Queen, ' he said,
'As her dress trailed long on the floor.'
And her wai po, down in the village square
Would brag of her daughter's girl,
'She will snare some man with a million yuan, '
She said, 'not a farmer's son.
Go home to your fields and forget her now,
She's not for an also-ran! '
And laughed, as the tears sprang into my eyes
For the love of Ling Xiaodan.
She came back once to the village street
To her home, as ever we must,
But carefully held her dress up high
To avoid the rubbish and dust,
I stood at the side and she looked at me,
Then turned, looked quickly away,
For Ling Xiaodan and a farmer's son
Had nothing at all to say.
But I saw her once before she left,
Alone by the mountain stream,
Her eyes were sorrowful, in remorse,
Remembering how we'd been.
'I loved you once, as a child, ' she said
'But the world is harsh, and grey...
We do what our fathers want us to,
And my father sent me away.'
I sat by her then, and held her hand,
Stroking her neck, and hair,
And kissed the cheek, so pale and wan,
And I cried in a deep despair.
'You must get on with your life, ' she said,
'Get a wife and a baby son;
I leave tomorrow to see the man
That my father has met in town.'
I heard that she'd wed a businessman,
And cried in the quiet gloom,
My dream had died by the mountain stream,
On that day, in the afternoon.
She worked in a shop her husband owned,
So they said, but I never heard
'Til the body was brought back home again,
That the love of my life was dead.
It seemed that she'd sold her favours there
In the rear of a grimy store,
To any man with the change to spare
While her husband played Mah Jongg.
He'd gambled his fortune, and lost it all
While his wife kept the fool from jail
With what she earned with her hands and hair,
And a mouth like the Holy Grail.
But then, a man who was ill or mad
Put his grimy hands at her throat,
And squeezed the life from the darling neck
That I'd once both loved, and stroked.
They buried her up on the mountainside
By the stream, in sight of her home,
And from where I stand in the paddy fields
I can see her pale white stone.
She'd played in the dirt of the village street
So long ago, so long...
She'd swum in the pools of the mountain stream,
But now, that girl had gone.
I married a woman I barely knew
And she bore me a black-haired girl,
With eyes like two slim moonstones, and...
A mouth like the Holy Grail.
10 March 2006
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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