The Picnic in the Wood
It was Sunday, after vespers
In the town of Montauban,
Where the Seminary Deacons walked
Along the tree-lined strand,
While two girls were sipping latté
At the Café Belle Amie,
Watching all the black-robed brothers
As they passed, but covertly!
‘Don't you think he's very handsome? '
Sighed the girl called Mirabel,
As the brother Michael passed them,
Turned his head, and gave a smile,
While Georgette had sat and giggled,
Put her hand up to her mouth:
‘Don't you think it's rather wicked,
Tempting priests to break a vow! '
Mirabel had raised an eyebrow
And stared archly at her friend,
‘Isn't that the main attraction,
Tempting vows that never mend?
I once overheard my mother
Tell her sister, Aunt Denise,
‘You will never know seduction
If you've not seduced a priest! ''
It was autumn in the country
And the leaves lay all around,
Making pathways sere and golden
With their passing, on the ground,
And the woods that lay by Montauban
Were like some lovers' dell,
That these girls had often wandered,
And the nooks, they knew too well.
When Mirabel had smiled, coquettish
At the novice priest,
He'd stopped, and turned to join them,
Chatted low, but quite at ease,
‘I have filled a picnic basket,
Pink champagne and sweet baguettes,
I intend to go tomorrow,
Come along, and be my guest.'
Then he pointed to the pathway
That led deep into the wood,
‘We can have a pleasant day of fun,
And stuff ourselves with food;
I have seven different cheeses
Camembert and Brie de Meaux,
Some Gruyère and Mimolette…'
Then Mirabel said: ‘Yes, I'll go! '
Her friend shrank back, and shivered,
Mirabel had caught her eye,
‘Don't you crash my little party…'
It had said, and she knew why!
There would be more fun and frolics
Than the novice would suspect,
When her friend returned tomorrow
With his celibacy wrecked!
But seven days went by, there was
No sign of Mirabel,
Then Michael came, and said that she
Was called to aunt Giselle;
It seems she'd had a fit, and Mirabel
Had caught the train,
She wouldn't be around for weeks
Her aunt lived in Lorraine! '
Georgette was disappointed
She had hoped to see her friend,
But Michael stayed and chatted
And he charmed her, in the end,
He said it was Georgette that had
Attracted him that night,
But Mirabel jumped in too quick,
And put his plans to flight.
The girl felt more than flattered,
She was always in the shade,
For Mirabel had always picked
The best of who they laid,
So when he made his offer
That a picnic would be right,
She blushed, and then she stammered,
‘I'd be honoured - if you like! '
The woods that lie by Montauban
Took on their winter shroud,
The weeks went by, and neither girl
Returned to join the crowd,
The vermin had been busy
On their bones, deep in the wood,
Had eaten what virginity
Was left, with Michael's food.
And Michael, his Hail Mary's
In his Seminary cell,
Had brought him more than comfort,
They had saved his soul from hell,
For no-one, he reflected,
Could tell anybody now,
He'd kept his love protected
And his celibacy vow!
5 July 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
At My Aunt's Unveiling
AT MY AUNT’S UNVEILING
At my aunt’s unveiling
There were five of us
Only five
One was a woman
A friend of hers
Not the closest one
But someone who knew her
And wanted to be a friend.
Thousands of people had known my aunt
Hundreds had worked with or for her
She was born into a large family
But all of them were gone
Or out of it.
My sister and I were the relatives
My aunt had been very generous to us
And difficult for my sister
Who cared for her.
I had only been a taker all the years.
My aunt worked so hard for so many years
And she was ‘somebody’ in her world
There were five of us there
And the ceremony short
No minyan.
There was no sign of my aunt’s smile
Or her nervous energy or her superabundant love
‘Moll ‘as my mother called her
was not there.
I see her so clearly in my mind now
‘What does it all mean? ’ my father would ask my mother
after reading of the death of another person they knew
‘What does it all mean’
When my sister and I go
The memory of my aunt
Will be gone forever.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Christ upon the Hill
Part I.
A couple old sat o'er the fire,
And they were bent and gray;
They burned the charcoal for their Lord,
Who lived long leagues away.
Deep in the wood the old pair dwelt,
Far from the paths of men,
And saw no face but their poor son's,
And a wanderer's now and then.
The son, alas! Had grown apace,
And left his wits behind;
He was as helpless as the air,
As empty as the wind.
With puffing lips and shambling feet,
And eyes a-staring wide,
He whistled ever as he went,
And little did beside.
He whistled high, he whistled low,
He whistled sharp and sweet;
He brought the redbreast to his hand,
And the brown hare to his feet.
Without a fear of beast or bird,
He wandered all the day;
But when the light began to fail
His courage passed away.
He feared the werewolf in the wood,
The dragon in the dell,
And home he fled as if pursued
By all the hosts of hell.
"Ah! we are old," the woman said,
"And soon shall we be gone,
And what will our poor Michael do
When he is left alone?
"We are forgotten of all men;
And he is dead, I fear,
That good old priest, who used to come
And shrive us thrice a year.
"We have no kin," the mother said,
"We have no friend," said she;
The father gazed upon the fire,
And not a word said he.
Again she spoke, "No friend or kin,
'Death, only Death,' is near;
And he will take us both away,
And leave our Michael here.
"And who shall give him bite or sup?
And who shall keep him neat?
Ah! what were Heaven if we must weep
Before God's mercy-seat!"
And when the woman ceased, the man
A little waited still,
And then he said, "We have one friend --
The Christ upon the Hill."
Part II.
The Christ upon the Hill --so gaunt
And lean and stark and drear;
It made the heart with pity start,
It smote the soul with fear.
High reared against a cliff it stood,
Just where the great roads met;
And many a knee had worn the stone
Wherein the Rood was set.
For deadly was the pass beyond,
And all men paused to pray
For courage, or to pour their thanks
For dangers passed away.
But not for fear of beast or fiend,
But boding deeper ill,
The charcoal-burner and his wife
Slow climbed the weary hill.
Before the Rood their simple son
Lay stretched upon the ground,
And crumbled black bread for the birds
That hopped and pecked around.
(For he had gone before with feet
As wild and light as air,
And borne the basket on his back
That held their frugal fare.)
And they were faint, and, ere they prayed,
They sat them down to eat;
And much they marvelled at their son,
Who never touched his meat,
But, now the birds were flown away,
Sat up, and only gazed
Upon the Christ upon the cross,
As one with wonder dazed.
Full long he sat and never moved;
But then he gave a cry,
And caught his mother by the wrist
And said, "I heard a sigh."
"It is an image made of wood,
It has no voice," she said;
"'Twas but the wind you heard, my son,"
But Michael shook his head,
And gazed again, so earnestly
His face grew almost wise;
And now he cried again, and said,
"Look, how he closed his eyes!"
"'Tis but the shadow of a bird
That passed across his face,"
The mother said; "see, even now
It hovers near the place."
And then the father said, "My son,
The image is of wood;
And do you think a man could live
Without a taste of food?"
"No food?" the silly youth replied,
And pointed to a wren,
Who with a crumb upon Christ's lip
Had just alighted then.
And now the old man held his peace,
And the woman ceased to strive,
For still he shook his silly head,
And said, "The man's alive."
"It is God's will," they said, and knelt,
And knew not what to say;
But when they rose they felt as though
All fear had passed away.
And they could smile when Michael left
His dinner on the stone;
He said, "The birds will feed the Christ
When they are quite alone."
Part III.
The couple sat before the fire,
More old, and sad, and poor,
For there was winter at the heart,
And winter at the door.
It shook the roof with shocks of wind;
It caked the pane with snow;
The candle flickered on the sill,
Like a soul that longed to go.
'Twas Michael's beacon, -- gone to feed
The Christ upon the Hill;
And midnight long had passed and gone,
And he was absent still.
And now and then they turned a log,
And now they dropped a word:
"'Twas all the wind," the mother said;
The father said, "The bird."
"I hoped that it was God himself,"
The mother muttered low;
"It must have been the fiend," he said,
"For to deceive him so."
And then the mother cried aloud,
"What matter it?" she said;
"Or wind, or bird, or fiend, or God,
For he is dead -- is dead!"
"Hark!" cried the man, and through the storm
A note came high and clear;
It was the whistle of their son,
That sound they longed to hear.
And then a cry for help, and out
Into the snow they ran;
And there was Michael. On his back
He bore a helpless man.
"He lives, he lives," he wildly cried;
"His wounds are dripping still;"
And surely, red from hand and side
There ran a tiny rill.
They brought Him in and laid Him down,
Upon the warm hearthstone;
It was the Christ, but not of wood,
But made of flesh and bone.
They washed His wounds, and at their touch
They turned to purple scars,
Like a young moon upon the breast,
On hands and feet like stars.
They brought to moisten His dry lips
They hoarded flask of wine;
They wrapped Him round with blankets warm,
And waited for a sign.
And soon without the help of hand
He rose upon His feet,
And like a friend beside the fire
He took the vacant seat.
He sat up in the chair then,
And straight began to shine,
Until His face and raiment poured
A glory most divine.
The thorns upon His forehead
Broke out in leaves of gold;
The blood-drops turned to berries,
Like rubies rich and bold.
The blankets that bewrapped Him
Flowed into folds of white,
Bestarred with gold and jewels
Which sparkled in the light.
The very chair He sat on
Became a crystal throne;
The oaken stool beneath His feet
Turned to a jasper stone.
He stretched an arm to Michael,
And touched him with His hand,
And he arose beside the throne
An angel, bright and grand.
And then His lips were opened,
And strong and sweet and clear,
Like water from a fountain,
His voice was good to hear.
"I am the King of Glory;
I am your brother too;
And even as you do to Me,
So do I unto you.
"You took Me in and clothed Me;
You washed My body pierced;
You gave me of your wine to drink
When I was sore athirst.
"And you have suffered also,
And you must suffer still;
I suffered upon Calvary;
I suffer on the Hill.
"But I am Prince of Sorrow,
And I am Lord of Care;
I come to bring you comfort,
And save you from despair.
"Your son, your only son, is safe
And beautiful to see;
And though you miss him for a while,
You know he is with Me.
"And I will give him peace and joy
As no man every knew --
A little grief, a little pain,
And I will come for you."
He rose, His arms around their son;
And through the open door
They only saw a whirl of snow,
And heard the tempest roar.
poem by William Cosmo Monkhouse
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Aunt Tabitha
THE YOUNG GIRL'S POEM
WHATEVER I do, and whatever I say,
Aunt Tabitha tells me that is n't the way;
When she was a girl (forty summers ago)
Aunt Tabitha tells me they never did so.
Dear aunt! If I only would take her advice!
But I like my own way, and I find it so nice
And besides, I forget half the things I am told;
But they all will come back to me--when I am old.
If a youth passes by, it may happen, no doubt,
He may chance to look in as I chance to look out;
She would never endure an impertinent stare,--
It is horrid, she says, and I must n't sit there.
A walk in the moonlight has pleasures, I own,
But it is n't quite safe to be walking alone;
So I take a lad's arm,--just for safety, you know,--
But Aunt Tabitha tells me they did n't do so.
How wicked we are, and how good they were then!
They kept at arm's length those detestable men;
What an era of virtue she lived in!--But stay--
Were the men all such rogues in Aunt Tabitha's day?
If the men were so wicked, I 'll ask my papa
How he dared to propose to my darling mamma;
Was he like the rest of them? Goodness! Who knows?
And what shall I say, if a wretch should propose?
I am thinking if Aunt knew so little of sin,
What a wonder Aunt Tabitha's aunt must have been!
And her grand-aunt--it scares me--how shockingly sad
That we girls of to-day are so frightfully bad!
A martyr will save us, and nothing else can;
Let me perish--to rescue some wretched young man!
Though when to the altar a victim I go,
Aunt Tabitha 'll tell me she never did so.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Songs Of Matthias (Lullaby For Children)
♫ Dance x 4, sing x 4
flash the smiles
while you can
childhood is a diamond
in our hands.
1. ♫ Little Danny loves
It rock.
Dance, Dance and swing around
Smiles and make a childish
Glee.
Childhood is a treasure
In his hands
REPEAT CHORUS
♫
2. ♫Sweetie Ann loves
It cool,
Let's humn then lullaby
So soft
(Humn…Hmmm Hmmm Hmmm)
REPEAT CHORUS
3. Hold hands and pray
For children,
teenagers deals with peer
pressure.
Grown ups worry a lot
And seldom smile
Grannies live on memories
Cause the future is
Scary for them
Childhood is laughter,
friendship,
with caring teachers the
future is brighter…
cause we are the future.
(For Favour and Mirabel Daniel)
poem by Matthias Pantaleon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old Aunt Mary's
Wasn't it pleasant, O brother mine,
In those old days of the lost sunshine
Of youth-- when the Saturday's chores were through,
And the 'Sunday's wood' in the kitchen too,
And we went visiting, 'me and you,'
Out to Old Aunt Mary's?
It all comes back so clear to-day!
Though I am as bald as you are gray--
Out by the barn-lot, and down the lane,
We patter along in the dust again,
As light as the tips of the drops of the rain,
Out to Old Aunt Mary's!
We cross the pasture, and through the wood
Where the old gray snag of the poplar stood,
Where the hammering 'red-heads' hopped awry,
And the buzzard 'raised' in the 'clearing' sky
And lolled and circled, as we went by
Out to Old Aunt Mary's.
And then in the dust of the road again;
And the teams we met, and the countrymen;
And the long highway, with sunshine spread
As thick as butter on country bread,
Our cares behind, and our hearts ahead
Out to Old Aunt Mary's.
Why, I see her now in the open door,
Where the little gourds grew up the sides and o'er
The clapboard roof--! And her face-- ah, me!
Wasn't it good for a boy to see--
And wasn't it good for a boy to be
Out to Old Aunt Mary's?
The jelly-- the Jam and the marmalade,
And the cherry and quince 'preserves'' she made!
And the sweet-sour pickles of peach and pear,
With cinnamon in 'em, and all things rare--!
And the more we ate was the more to spare,
Out to Old Aunt Mary's!
And the old spring-house in the cool green gloom
Of the willow-trees--, and the cooler room
Where the swinging-shelves and the crocks were kept--
Where the cream in a golden languor slept
While the waters gurgled and laughed and wept--
Out to Old Aunt Mary's.
And O my brother, so far away,
This is to tell you she waits to-day
To welcome us--: Aunt Mary fell
Asleep this morning, whispering-- 'Tell
The boys to come!' And all is well
Out to Old Aunt Mary's.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rene And Georgette Magritte With Their Dog After The War
Words & music by Paul Simon
Rene and Georgette Magritte
With their dog after the war
Returned to their hotel suite
And they unlocked the door
Easily losing their evening clothes
They danced by the light of the moon
To the Penguins, the Moonglows
The Orioles, and The Five Satins
The deep forbidden music
They'd been longing for
Rene and Georgette Magritte
With their dog after the war
Rene and Georgette Magritte
With their dog after the war
Were strolling down Christopher Street
When they stopped in a men's store
With all of the mannequins dressed in the style
That brought tears to their immigrant eyes
Just like The Penguins, the Moonglows
The Orioles, and The Five Satins
The easy stream of laughter
Flowing through the air
Rene and Georgette Magritte
With their dog apres la guerre
Side by side
They fell asleep
Decades gliding by like Indians
Time is cheap
When they wake up they will find
All their personal belongings
Have intertwined
Oh Rene and Georgette Magritte
With their dog after the war
Were dining with the power elite
And they looked in their bedroom drawer
And what do you think
They have hidden away
In the cabinet cold of their hearts?
The Penguins, the Moonglows
The Orioles, and The Five Satins
For now and ever after
As it was before
Rene and Georgette Magritte
With their dog after the war
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rene & Georgette Magritte With Their Dog After The War
Words & music by paul simon
Rene and georgette magritte
With their dog after the war
Returned to their hotel suite
And they unlocked the door
Easily losing their evening clothes
They danced by the light of the moon
To the penguins, the moonglows
The orioles, and the five satins
The deep forbidden music
Theyd been longing for
Rene and georgette magritte
With their dog after the war
Rene and georgette magritte
With their dog after the war
Were strolling down christopher street
When they stopped in a mens store
With all of the mannequins dressed in the style
That brought tears to their immigrant eyes
Just like the penguins, the moonglows
The orioles, and the five satins
The easy stream of laughter
Flowing through the air
Rene and georgette magritte
With their dog apres la guerre
Side by side
They fell asleep
Decades gliding by like indians
Time is cheap
When they wake up they will find
All their personal belongings
Have intertwined
Oh rene and georgette magritte
With their dog after the war
Were dining with the power elite
And they looked in their bedroom drawer
And what do you think
They have hidden away
In the cabinet cold of their hearts?
The penguins, the moonglows
The orioles, and the five satins
For now and ever after
As it was before
Rene and georgette magritte
With their dog after the war
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Typical Emo Love Poem
Girl meets Boy
Girl falls in love
Boy falls in love with Girl's Friend
Friend goes out with Boy
Girl is left with only thoughts
Friend breaks up with Boy
Girl asks Boy out
Boy said yes!
Girl, Boy, and Friend are happy
Boy gets in trouble with Dad
Boy breaks up with Girl
Girl is left again with only thoughts
Two weeks past
Friend and Boy go out again
Girl ends life.
poem by Brie Carter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The girl you all...
The girl you all once knew so well,
Has left and now dwells.
Dwells in the place of burning fire.
The place where you sent her with desire.
The girl you all once knew as a child,
Has left not for a while.
She's gone and won't come back again to this town.
Are you happy she took her final bow?
The girl you all once made fun of at school,
She was treated so cruel.
How you made her feel pain and fear,
Making her think she's unwanted here.
The girl you all once put in such pain,
Because of you fear and grief is what she gain.
She gained this by your torture in her life,
And yet you wonder why she sleeps with that silver knife,
The girl you all once called the bitch from hell,
Can you hear her ring those darken bells?
Do you understand the pain she was put through,
Around the people she once knew?
The girl you all let her life end,
Did you remember when you were once a friend?
A friend to her when she had none around,
So why did you let her die and leave this small town?
poem by Alice Spakrs
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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John And Elvis Are Dead
(George Michael)
Close friend of mine as a child fell into a slumber
No sign of life since '75
Then one day he just, what do you know
I guess God just called his number
He called me up he called me up and said
"I've been awake about a week
I'm thinking about asking the doctor
If he could put me back to sleep"
Then he laughed and said
"Hey all the girls they look the same"
Don't they know just what their mothers
Paid in blood, and tears to change
But the words that made me cry
The thing he softly said
It stayed with me, it keeps messing with my head
He said, "If Jesus Christ is alive and well
Then how come John
song performed by by George Michael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Stalker
She looked demure as she came on board
And sat in a corner seat,
And Paul looked up from his paper as
She crossed her legs in the heat,
The blouse she wore had a bunch of lace,
Her skirt rose over the knee,
And a length of thigh had caught his eye
As the train had gathered speed.
‘Some girls were there for the taking, '
Paul had thought, and he shook his head,
They weren't alive to the dangers that
Their wiser mothers would dread,
So many girls were assaulted
On the track that led to the train,
They needed a good Samaritan;
Outside, it started to rain.
A man came into the carriage
Sat across on the other aisle,
He tried to catch her attention with
Some twisted sort of a smile,
He made a pointed remark, at which
She scowled, but made no reply,
But Paul sat watching and listening
To the man with the evil eye.
The girl stood up as the train pulled in
To the village of Little Cross,
And the man got ready to leave the train
But waited, ‘til she'd got off,
So Paul jumped up on a whim, and thought
To follow, and keep her safe,
He'd keep his eye on this other guy
Be there for her, just in case.
The track led over some common land
Then wandered into a wood,
The girl ploughed on, didn't look back
Though Paul had thought that she should,
The man took off on a side track then
And soon was lost to his view,
Where the ground was covered with thickets
Sparkling still with the morning dew.
The girl had vanished ahead of him
Round a bend in the beaten track,
Paul was hurrying after her
When he heard a sound at his back,
He turned and he saw the girl approach
And knew that he was in strife,
For glittering in her hand he saw
The long curved blade of a knife.
She stabbed him once, she stabbed him twice
She stabbed him a dozen times,
She snarled, ‘Is this what you wanted, No?
Well isn't that a surprise! '
He toppled back as she scythed at him
And tried to catch at his breath,
The words, ‘I thought to protect you, '
Left unsaid, in the throes of death.
They took his wallet, they took his ring
As his blue eyes glazed at the sky,
‘He thought that I was the stalker, ' grinned
The man with the evil eye,
She turned to him an excited smile
And murmured, ‘Gee, that was fun!
Let's take the train to the Junction, Joe,
And get us another one! '
17 November 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pooh Bear and The Alarming Rumour
In the Hundred Acre Wood, agitation spread like one of those cold March winds that seem to be blowing in every direction at once. All the Animals were murmuring to each other, then to someone else, and rumour spread like blown dry leaves in an autumn gale..
Wol’s nephew, who was too clever for his own good, Wol said, had found a torn piece of dirty newspaper wrapped round some compost behind a tree, which came, it said, ‘From Our …..wood Correspondent’
and which said something about ‘…Robin…girl’…
What could it mean? Had CR found a girlfriend? Pooh was half happy for him, but the other half knew that girls meant boys having less time for walks in the wood with bears, however Much Loved…
Others feared that CR would be going away to school, as he had told them he would one day, and his sister – who they’d never met – would come instead and do girly things like tidy up, and brush Eeyore’s hair away from his eyes, and sit the Animals in a row and play School … Piglet turned very pink around the ears at the thought.
Rabbit’s friends and relations were unconcerned – they had bunny girls of their own to play with. But Roo got the story wrong as usual, and thought CR would change into a girl, like hens sometimes change into cocks, and got all excited and jumped up and down shouting ‘Christine Robinia…’ which embarrassed everyone. While Tigger just bounced around, hoping that this would be a New Adventure after all..
Only Tortus, who was so old that he had once seen Snow White walking through the Hundred Acre Wood, feared the worst…saying that girls from that wood with the holly in it had rosebud mouths, tidy hair, long eyelashes, sang silly songs, and were yucksomely sentimental…
Could it be true? The Animals all crowded in front of Wol’s tree to ask his advice. Wol took a long time to find his spectacles, and came out looking serious.
‘The wood with the holly in it is a long way from our wood’ said Wol, ‘and doesn’t see us as we see ourselves…so you must prepare yourselves for the worst…’
The Animals walked slowly and sadly away. It seemed as if the end of the world were nigh. No more Christopher Robin, and a girl with rosebud lips and tidy hair and long eyelashes instead? They would just have to wait and see. Some girls, after all, are fond of all animals…some are even tomboys and kick leaves and walk through puddles and climb trees…
Eeyore hadn’t joined the crowd. He stayed in the corner of his field, eating a dewy breakfast. ‘No one asked me…’ he said mournfully. ‘ I’m always the last to be consulted…’
And so the Animals waited for the next chapter in their lives.
[There was a rumour a year ago in the Hollywood Reporter or some such, that Disney were trying to insinuate a girl lead into the stories...]
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cole And Glass
she was a beautiful girl
with light blond hair
although she had problems
she still wasnt scared
she had the heart of a worrior
and the motivation
of a lioness waiting to strike her pray
as she walked through the woods
and overcame the obsticals in her path
she was not alone
for a fox with brown fur fallowed
guiding her way and making sure she was ok
the fox defended the beautiful girl with all she could
but found out later on she had not done as good
although the fox tried hard to help
it wasnt enough
the girl had a heart of glass
and the fox a heart of cole
the girl had good things in her life
but the bad took it over
the fox left for just a while
and when she returned she found
the beautiful girl covered in blood
her wrists bleeding and her heart of glass
shattared to pieces mearly dropped
the fox looked at her friend with tears in her eyes
who would hurt this beautiful girl
what would make her want to take her life
the fox tried to think but found no thought
she had realized that she had done enough
and enough was everything she could to help the girl
the fox dug a whole deep in the ground and
covered her friend in beautiful leave that suit her well
she burried her were she knew the girl with the
now broken heart of glass would have been happy
in a beautiful sarounding in a quiet forest is where
she is burried
the fox said a prayer and howled at the moon
as she walked away carrying the pieces of her heart of glass
the fox swallowed each piece with thought and love
hope was upon her that it would be safe
so now in her chest right beside the foxes heart of cole
is a memorie the pieces of her friend glass heart
the beautiful girl with the heart of glass loved nights
an stars
she would always talk about them and now shes with them
watching over the fox
i swear i can still hear the beautiful girl talk to me
when the wind blows i hear her voice and when i look into the sky
on a bright stary night i can see her looking and watching for me
with my eyes closed i can picture her smile
i still here her calling me once in a while
saying my dear fox it is my turn to watch over you
with my heart of cole and the pieces of glass
friendship stays forever
poem by Sandy Vanity
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Waiting On A Friend
Watching girls go passing by
It ain't the latest thing
I'm just standing in a doorway
I'm just trying to make some sense
Out of these girls go passing by
The tales they tell of men
I'm not waiting on a lady
I'm just waiting on a friend
A smile relieves a heart that grieves
Remember what I said
I'm not waiting on a lady
I'm just waiting on a friend
I'm just waiting on a friend
Don't need a whore
I don't need no booze
Don't need a virgin priest
But I need someone I can cry to
I need someone to protect
Making love and breaking hearts
It is a game for youth
But I'm not waiting on a lady
I'm just waiting on a friend
song performed by by Rolling Stones from Tattoo You
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I kissed a girl
I kissed a girl
and something more was there,
than the touch of lips
and something of her soul
was burning into me.
I kissed a girl
and it was more sweet,
than any kiss before
and it was if that kiss
was meant to be.
I kissed a girl
and knew from somewhere,
that no kiss would ever be
like this again.
I kissed a girl
and was stunned
like by a thunderclap
and she had awakened,
all devils and angels in me.
I kissed a girl
and my passions were
aroused to extremity
and still I wanted to be sweet
and know her better than a friend.
I kissed a girl
and she turned my world
and somehow caught destiny
and I did not want
to ever let her go.
I kissed a girl
and I love her still
and you know,
that the girl are you.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Madelaine Mann
'Pass me my pearl handled brush, and my comb, '
She had said, as she gazed at the glass,
The child had obeyed, though he shuffled and moaned
As he pulled at his pretty pink dress.
'Be still with you, child! Learn some patience and grace,
Wipe that scowl off your face - do you hear?
Just be a good girl, and I'll powder your face,
Tie ribbons up high in your hair.'
The boy bit his lip, and he stared at his aunt
In the mirror; she simpered and smiled,
Her lips were so thin and so twisted in sin
Though she thought she was beauty, beguiled.
The eyes were so close, and were hooded and dark,
The cheeks were both sallow and thin,
'A little more rouge - there we are! Is your aunt
The most beautiful creature you've seen? '
The boy nodded then, as he knew he must do
If he wouldn't be beaten and sore,
The lash of her cane had left scars in his brain
And he just couldn't take any more.
His mother had died when her sister denied her
A telephone call in the night,
She'd wanted to call out an ambulance then,
But her sister said: 'You'll be all right! '
She died the next morning, and Madelaine Mann
Had dug a large hole by the tree,
She buried her sister there, in the moonlight,
Leaving Andrew, who wasn't quite three.
They lived in the country, so nobody knew
What went on in that foul looking den,
And Andrew became little Andrea soon,
Because Madelaine Mann hated men.
He grew up confused as he followed her rules
But he always knew something was wrong,
He pulled all the heads off the dolls as he played
And his voice couldn't carry a song.
She'd beat him whenever his needlework strayed
Showing great ugly stitches and knots,
But his mind wandered out where the mud puddles lay,
And that patch of forget-me-nots.
Those precious blue flowers grew under the tree
Where her sister lay, cold in the ground,
She'd smile as she passed them, her own little joke
As she turned the son's gender around;
But Andrew, he sat and he picked at the flowers
And he sat there for hours at a time,
He'd sit in a trance, then he'd dance a small dance
As if Mummy was there in his mind.
She dressed him in dresses, and tied up his hair
But still made him work for his keep,
He swilled out the pigs and he managed the bees,
And he grew until he was thirteen;
She schooled him at home so that nobody knew
That the girl on the farm was a 'he',
For Madelaine saw off the strangers that came
With a sign: 'Private Property! '
She beat him whenever he stepped out of line
And he didn't dare answer her back,
He scowled and he muttered when she wasn't there,
And his thoughts were dark, merging on black.
He talked to the pigs as his moodiness grew
To the sow that he called 'Mother Sly',
And saw how voracious their appetites grew
As he poured the swill into the sty.
One morning she woke, and she called for him then,
When she couldn't get out of her bed,
'You must call an ambulance, Andrea dear,
I have something gone wrong in my head.'
He stood in the doorway, and shuffled, and smiled,
Then he grinned and he took off his dress;
A pair of old overalls hung in the hall,
And he put them on over his vest.
'Don't be silly, my girl! Don't defy me, or think
This will change anything in our lives!
You will work on the farm 'til I'm well, and I'm home...'
He just laughed, and went out to the hives.
He cut off the cord to the telephone,
And he left off from feeding the swine,
While Madelaine Mann lay remembering then
All the beatings, as fear took her mind.
'The ambulance, Andrea; Andrea please! '
She had shouted in vain all day long,
But Andrew himself was nowhere to be seen,
He was out somewhere else, all alone.
On the following morning he wheeled in the chair
That his mother had used, from the barn,
'We're taking a walk, dear, ' Andrea said,
'I'm just going to show you our farm.'
He put on a suit with a hood and long gloves
And he wheeled her then, out to the tree,
The area was full of forget-me-nots,
All in bloom, and a picture to see,
But there by the tree there were three wooden hives
And the bees were there, buzzing the flowers,
He lifted each lid, then he turned and he said:
'It's so nice here; I'll give you two hours.'
She screamed and she struggled to get off the chair
But the stroke had disabled her mind,
Her eyes bulged in fear as the first stung her ear,
Within minutes, the woman was blind.
They crawled on her arms, on her legs and her face
And they stung and they stung to a plan,
To get the intruder to leave them alone,
But she couldn't... not Madelaine Mann!
When Andrew returned with the smoker, she sat
And she groaned - he was somewhat disturbed:
'I thought you'd be finished, you nasty old witch!
Well, we'll finish this soon, mark my words.'
He trundled her groaning along the dirt path
And he tipped her right into the sty;
The last thing she heard were the grunts of the young
And the munching of old 'Mother Sly.'
27 August 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If You Had A Friend
If you had a friend strong, simple, true,
Who knew your faults and who understood;
Who believed in the very best of you,
And who cared for you as a father would;
Who would stick by you to the very end,
Who would smile however the world might frown:
I'm sure you would try to please your friend,
You never would think to throw him down.
And supposing your friend was high and great,
And he lived in a palace rich and tall,
And sat like a King in shining state,
And his praise was loud on the lips of all;
Well then, when he turned to you alone,
And he singled you out from all the crowd,
And he called you up to his golden throne,
Oh, wouldn't you just be jolly proud?
If you had a friend like this, I say,
So sweet and tender, so strong and true,
You'd try to please him in every way,
You'd live at your bravest -- now, wouldn't you?
His worth would shine in the words you penned;
You'd shout his praises . . . yet now it's odd!
You tell me you haven't got such a friend;
You haven't? I wonder . . . What of God?
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Caught Up
Caught Up"
I'm the kind of brotha
Who been doin' it my way
Gettin' my way for years
In my career
And every lover
In and out my life
I've hit, love and left the tears
Without a care
Until I met this girl who turned the tables around
She caught me by surprise
I never thought I'd be the one breaking down
I cant figure it out why
I'm so
Caught up
Got me feelin' it
Caught up
I don't know what it is
But it seems shes got me twisted
I'm so
Caught up
Got me feelin' it
Caught up
I'm losin' control
This girls got a hold on me
Let me go baby
Now listen
My momma told me
Be careful who you do cuz karma comes back around
Same ol' song
But I was so sure
That it wouldnt happen to me
Cuz I know how to put it down
But I was so wrong
This girl was mean
She really turned me out
Her body was so tight
I'm lookin' for her in the daytime with a flashlight
My homies say this girl is crampin' my style
And I can't figure it out but
I'm so
Caught up
Got me feelin' it
Caught up
I don't know what it is
But it seems shes got me twisted
I'm so
Caught up
Got me feelin' it
Caught up
I'm losin' control
This girls got a hold
I'm so
Caught up
Really feelin' it
Caught up
I don't know what it is
But it seems shes got me twisted
I'm so
Caught up
Really feelin' it
Caught up
I'm losin' control
This girls got a hold on me
And I think I like it baby
Oh nooo, oh no
Ooh, yeaah, oh my
This girl was mean
She really turned me out
Yeah, yeah, yeah, suga
My homies say this girl is crampin' my style
I'm so
Caught up
Caught up
Don't know what it is
But it seems shes got me twisted
I'm so
Caught up
Really feelin' it
Caught up
I'm losin' control
This girls got a hold
I'm so
Caught up
Im so
Caught up
I don't know what it is
But it seems shes got me twisted
I'm
Caught up
Really feelin' it
Caught up
I'm losin' control
This girls got a hold on me
song performed by by Usher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gonna Buy Me A Dog
By tommy boyce and bobby hart
You know my girl just called me up
And she woke me from my sleep
You should have heard the things she said
You know she hurt my feelings deep.
Im gonna buy me a dog [a dog, a dog! why? ]
cause I need a friend now. [say, you need all the friends you can get]
Im gonna buy me a dog,
My girl, my girl, dont love me no how.
She used to bring me my newspaper
cause she knew where it was at.
She used to keep me so contented.
But I can teach a dog to do that.
Im gonna buy me a dog,
cause I need a friend now
Im gonna buy me a dog,
My girl, my girl, dont love me no how.
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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