En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Return of Jonathon Grise

I stood on the porch
Like one in a daze,
And stared at the oak panelled door,
She'd shut it so quietly, there, in my face
That I just couldn't take it on board.
Her face was composed, but determined I knew,
Dismissive, but what could it mean?
The wedding we'd planned for the Spring was no more
Said the love of my life, Annie Deane!

I stumbled on out
In the gathering gloom,
And winter crawled into my heart,
The night was a portent of shadows and doom
As an owl fluttered past in the dark,
Storm clouds were filling the evening sky
And the wind set its wail in the trees,
The name of a monster was echoed out there,
The name of one, Jonathon Grise!

He'd come to the village
On just such a night,
Had stopped at the old village Inn,
The brim of his hat hid his face from the sight
Of the publican, signing him in,
He had an old trunk that he dragged to his room,
A magical symbol on top,
The publican smelt some old incense he burned
So he went up, and told him to stop.

I never was told
What was said when he knocked,
The publican staggered back down,
His face and his hair had turned grey, so they say,
When asked, the old man had just frowned.
He never said anything more on the case,
But bowed when he passed, to keep peace,
I sensed something evil, unclean in the man
That we all knew as Jonathon Grise.

He never went out
In the daytime, we knew,
But pottered about in the dark,
His cloak would be seen flaring out in the wind
As he strode through the trees in the park,
He bought the old cottage that stood by the shore
Moved in, with a rottweiler hound,
We dared not approach, or the dog would come out,
Bare its teeth, and start sniffing around.

He was watched by the locals,
But never approached,
And he never spoke to a soul,
He seemed quite content on his own in the dark
When the nights were both clammy and cold.
Then one foggy night I saw Widow McLean
Walking down to his house from the fells,
She walked in a daze, and her eyes, they were glazed
As she carried her basket of spells.

Long thought to be harmless,
A lonely old witch,
She knocked at his door in the gloom,
Then entered and stayed for an hour or more
Concocting her spells in his room,
I asked how she knew him, the mystery man
On the following day in the square,
She shivered, looked frightened, and held up one hand,
'I never was... never was there! '

Barely a month had
Gone by since the gloom
Of rejection had landed on me,
The heart that had loved had turned into a tomb
For the love that had set us both free.
Then rumours were whispered that in the Great Hall
The banns had been read and released,
The banns for the wedding of my Annie Deane
With that horror called Jonathon Grise!

My mind couldn't take it,
I tore at my hair,
I ripped at my coat and my shirt,
I drank a whole bottle of whisky off straight
In the hopes it would kill off the hurt,
I wondered how long since the two of them met,
And drunkenly swore my revenge,
I set off to squeeze all the truth from the throat
Of the visiting Widow from Henge.

She screamed when she saw me
Burst in through her door,
I looked like a figure from hell,
What spell had she cast there for Jonathon Grise?
She finally said she would tell.
'The man is pure evil, I met him before,
I met him before you were born,
He came on the night of a westerly gale,
Cast out from a Barque in the storm.'

'I think he deserted,
He wore seaman's clothes,
He never went back to the sea,
He married a woman, and left her in child,
A woman you'll never believe! '
'Just try me, ' I snarled, 'so he's done it before,
And now thinks he'll do it again! '
'Ah yes, but that happened when I was a child,
I couldn't have been more than ten! '

I stopped in my tracks
And I looked at her face,
The Widow was wrinkled and old,
She must have been seventy-seven or eight,
I felt all my innards run cold.
'You must be mistaken, this Jonathon Grise
Must only be thirty or so...'
'The man is the same, ' said the Widow, 'his name
Is the Sailor Who Never Grows Old.'

I sat for a moment
To gather my thoughts,
'You say that he married close by? '
'Ah yes, that he did, but the woman he wed,
In the churchyard, now, she lies! '
'Just tell me her name and I'll leave you in peace, '
I replied, with a portent of fear,
'Her name was Helene, and the child Richard Deane,
Your Annie's Great Grandfather, dear! '

I dropped like a thunderbolt
Onto the hearth,
I couldn't stand up for my life,
The devil had spawned the Great Grandfather
Of the woman he'd have for his wife.
My heart, it burst, and a thousand tears
Came flooding from deep within,
There must be a way to send Jonathon Grise
Back down to the devil's kiln.

I sat with the Widow
For thirteen days,
We read every spell in her book,
On the morning before Annie's wedding bells rang
She tossed all her charms in the brook.
'You said he deserted a ship once, at sea,
Do you have a drowned sailors spell? '
Her eyes had gleamed, old Widow McLean
As she lifted a caul from the well.

That night the moon
Stayed in, and hid,
The stars, they gave up their lease,
A mist came rolling on in from the sea
To the cottage of Jonathon Grise,
A groaning and creaking of timbers and masts
And the plash of the oars then grew,
The longboats, sent from the ghostly Barque
Rowed in with a ghostly crew.

They dragged him swearing
Away to the beach,
He cursed at the Barquentine,
They threw him into a longboat there,
And then he began to scream,
I watched as the ghostly sailing ship
Hove to in the rising swell,
While Jonathon hung from the yardarm there
At last, on his way to Hell.

28 January 2009

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Lalani

I swore, when my wife took off one night
That I'd never love again,
She'd left a note by the candlelight:
'I've been seeing other men! '
I stood in shock, I couldn't move,
Stood rooted to the floor,
And after I'd pulled the blinds, I cried,
Then locked the cottage door.

The love that she'd sworn, just shadows;
The plans that we'd made, just sand,
My life had become a darker place
By the scrawl from a woman's hand.
The cottage was wreathed in silence, it
Was still, like a living tomb,
The only sounds were my echoing steps
As I paced there, in the gloom.

I spent, God! How many weeks? I sat
Just stared at a blank, white wall,
I didn't dare venture out, but drank,
I tried to forget it all,
But then I'd walk at the lonely beach
Where we'd skipped to a lovers tune,
The light of love had been in my eyes
As she'd danced to a harvest moon.

The autumn passed in a drunken haze
The nights were becoming chill,
I warmed myself in the comforting blaze
Of a wood fire on the hill,
But then one night as the breakers crashed
And spent themselves on the reef,
I heard the sounds of a woman's moans
Rise up from the lonely beach.

The storm was whipping the rising crests,
The wind soughed through the trees,
I made my way to the beach, and there
She crawled on her hands and knees,
I picked her up, and carried her back
To the cottage, and there I saw
The sea had savaged her body there,
Dragged over the rocky shore.

There was no clothing of any sort,
Her skin was a pearly white,
But scraped and marred, she was loveliness
As she even bled in the night,
I washed and tended her every cut
And I held my breath in the gloom,
I couldn't believe my fortune there
As she lay in my own front room.

I wrapped her up in a robe, to save
Embarrassment for us both,
She slept content for an hour or two
While I watched, and prayed and hoped,
Then just at dawn, she opened her eyes
Took one brief glance at me,
Then muttered a word, she said, 'La-la...'
Again, said: 'La-lani.'

For days she lay in a fever, and
I fed her on fish and bread,
I tried to get her to talk to me
But she only shook her head,
She'd had a cut on the side of her neck
That had healed, some time before,
But opened up as I stared at it,
So she hid it under her hair.

Within a week she was up and out,
Was dancing along the beach,
She'd smile, and tease me to chase her there,
I laughed, first time for weeks;
She peeled the robe off as she danced,
Came naked into my arms,
Then kissed and smothered me way out there
With all of her womanly charms.

I thought that she might be deaf and dumb,
She never attempted a word,
But showed affection by patting my arm,
By nodding and shaking her head.
The slit on her neck stayed open, and
I looked at the other side,
Where one of the same had marred her skin,
She dropped her eyes, and sighed.

I'd said I never would fall in love
Again, and that was true,
But that was before Lalani,
I was smitten, and that she knew.
I told her then that I wanted her,
Said I loved her more than life,
I didn't care that she couldn't speak,
I'd take her for my wife.

She smiled, but then looked troubled,
Dropped her head down onto her chin,
I found her down at the water's edge
Where the tide was coming in,
She opened her mouth and sang a note
As mournful as the grave,
Like the tone of a bell in a waterspout,
Or an underwater cave.

And there in the shallows rose a man
With skin like a silver fish,
With eyes like a giant halibut,
And teeth for tearing flesh,
He leapt right out of the water,
Seized her arm and dragged her in,
I shouted her name, 'Lalani...'
But they'd gone, and the sea was calm.

In terror, I launched my boat, and revved
The engine out in the bay,
I circled the shallow waters,
Then I headed on out to sea,
I stopped at last, and stared straight down
To the weed on the ocean floor,
It was then that I saw Lalani
Swimming under the surface there.

She floated, feet below me,
Looking up, and she waved goodbye,
The fish man waited down below
As she turned - I thought I'd die!
She sank to the depths, and out of sight,
I knew that she'd gone for good...
I'll burn the cottage one moonless night,
Love's not in my neighborhood!

22 July 2009

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Me & My Shadow

Me and my shadow
(duet with jonathan wilkes)
Written by dave dreyer, al jolson and billy rose
[spoken]
Robbie: (american accent) johnny and robbie
Jonathon: what you talking like that for, youre from stoke!
Robbie: I dunno but I cant stop here pally
Like the wallpaper sticks to the wall
Like the c sharp clings to the c
Like youll never get rid of your shadow
Youll never get rid of me
Let all the others fight and fuss
Whatever happens, weve got us.
[me and my shadow]
Were closer than pages that stick in a book
Were closer than ripples that flow in a brook
[strolling down the avenue]
Wherever you find him, youll find me, just look
Closer than a miser or the bloodhounds to liza
Me and my shadow
Were closer than smog to all of l.a.
Were closer than ricky to confessing hes gay? ?
Not a soul can bust this team in two
We stick together like glue
And when its sleeping time
Thats when we rise
We start to swing
Our clocks dont chime
What a surprise
They ring-a-ding-ding!
Happy new year!
[me and my shadow]
And now to repeat what I said at the start
Theyll need a large crowbar to break us apart
Were alone but far from blue
Before we get finished, well make the town roar
Well hit a few late spots, and then a few more
Well wind up at stringys and maybe ? show
Life is gonna be we-wow-whee!
For my shadow and me!
[spoken]
Jonathon: can we do that again
Robbie: no, Im too tired
Jonathon: please rob
Robbie: no, Im swung out
Jonathon: Ill give you some money
Robbie: I dont need money
Jonathon: what about a cup of tea
Robbie: not thirsty
Jonathon: Ill wont tell anyone youre gay.
(both laugh)
Before we get finished, well make the town roar
Well hit all the late spots, and then a few more
Well wind up at stringys and maybe ? show
Life is gonna be we-wow-whee!
For my shadow and me!

song performed by by Robbie Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

The Shadow of Elspeth Brown

The sky was grey on that fateful day,
The sun was going down,
I made my way through a field of hay
To the cottage of Elspeth Brown.
She lived alone by the forest there
And studied her ancient tomes,
Her Grimoires, Necronomicons,
And her hearth was filled with bones!

I'd loved the girl for a year or two
And I'd made my interest known,
She was torn, she said, by the spells in her head,
She needed to be alone.
I knew she was seeing another guy
He called when I wasn't around,
‘He's more like the shade of a ghost, ' she said,
‘I raised him, out of the ground! '

She looked distraught as she waved me in,
Her hair was a tangled mess,
A book that featured some ugly Djin
Lay open across her dress.
I've never been one for the ancient arts
Of Magick, or spells and glooms,
But Elspeth wanted to play her part,
Cast spells in the afternoons!

I saw a copy of Crowley there,
A copy of Dragon Noir,
The Grimoire of Honorius
Was scattered across a chair!
‘What horrible Djin have you raised up
From the terrible realm of hell? '
I laughed, but Elspeth began to frown
And conjured another spell!

‘Three bat-wings and a gouty toad
And a strand of a maiden's hair,
A philtre of deadly nightshade stirred
With the leg of a wooden chair!
A third of a pint of hemlock, gathered
Close to the midnight hour…'
The sun was gone and the bright moon shone
Through the door of my lady's bower!

I thought to say it was nonsense,
Raised my eyes and stared in the gloom,
And there was her patient shadow cast
On the whitewashed wall of the room,
A shadow hand ran up through the hair
So tangled, under her cap,
I looked again at my erstwhile friend,
Her hands were down in her lap!

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck
Rise up, and a breathless chill,
The shadow had suddenly straightened up
My heart was standing still,
Two horns curled out of the shadow's head
Distinct on the further wall,
When Elspeth suddenly screamed, and said:
‘My skin's beginning to crawl! '

She spilled the book on the oaken floor,
Jumped up and looked at the wall,
The shadow that she had claimed for her own
Was suddenly eight feet tall,
It raised its hands in a threatening way
Against all physical laws,
I went to say, in a blank dismay:
‘Those fingers look like claws! '

We rushed together, out of the door,
Her screaming, me in fright,
The moon was rising, up in the sky,
You couldn't tell day from night,
The shadow followed, hard on our heels
And spread out over the ground,
I noticed it wasn't attached to her feet,
But followed with never a sound!

It moved around, ran by her side,
And then I saw it ahead,
She stopped in horror, whatever she'd done,
She'd summoned a Djin from the dead!
‘You'll have to set up an undo spell, '
I knew that she was to blame,
‘I can't, ' she muttered, ‘I don't know how,
He was here before you came! '

She wandered back to the cottage at last,
‘It's only a shadow, ' she said,
‘I shouldn't be worried, it won't hurt me! '
I turned on my heel, and fled!
I'm such a coward with magical things,
I ran full pelt all the way,
Then lay in dread, hid under my bed
‘Til the sun came up, next day!

I finally plucked the courage up
To return to the cottage there,
I stood in the yard, and called on out:
‘Elspeth - come out if you dare! '
A shadow stood in the hallway
And my heart, it turned to stone,
As I read the note on the lintel post,
‘I want to be left alone! '

The sun was high in the morning sky
As I looked on down at my feet,
There wasn't a sign of a shadow there,
My heart then skipped a beat,
For there on the inner whitewashed wall
And beyond the hallway Djin,
I could see two shadows, making love,
But I hadn't the nerve to go in!

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Devil Woman

Ive had nothing but bad luck
Since the day I saw the cat at my door
So I came into you sweet lady
Answering your mystical call
Crystal ball on the table
Showing the future,the past
Same cat with them evil eyes
And I knew itwas a spell she cast
Shes just a devil woman
With evil on her mind
Beware the devil woman
Shes gonna get you
Shes just a devil woman
With evil on her mind
Beware the devil woman
Shes gonna get you from behind
Give me the ring on your finger
Let me see the lines on your hand
I can see me a tall dark stranger
Giving you what you hadnt planned
I drank the potion she offered me
I found myself on the floor
Then I looked into those big green eyes
And I wondered what Id come there for
Shes just a devil woman
With evil on her mind
Beware the devil woman
Shes gonna get you
Shes just a devil woman
With evil on her mind
Beware the devil woman
Shes gonna get you from behind
If youre out on a moonlit night
Be careful of them neighbourhood strays
Of a lady with long black hair
Tryin to win you with her feminine ways
Crystal ball on the table
Showing the future,the past
Same cat with them evil eyes
Youd better get out of there fast
Shes just a devil woman
With evil on her mind
Beware the devil woman
Shes gonna get you
Shes just a devil woman
With evil on her mind
Beware the devil woman
Shes gonna get you...

song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Rag & Reed

John lived down in Haywood Lane
Beside the wood, the river's course
And walked each day to see Bernice
His dark-haired lady, for discourse.

She had a melancholy air
A sad and gloomy way with her
And questioned why life wasn't fair,
John never had much sway with her.

He'd argue through the early hours
And speak his love, implicitly,
But she would snap in anger then,
'Your love won't buy the bread for me.'

For seven years they'd to and fro'd
For she would leave, then ask him back,
While he would sit alone and grieve
At every trait that she'd attack.

She always spoke of breaking up
Of taking time out, making space,
Until the day he called on her
To find that he had been displaced.

A woman answered at the door,
And barred his entry as she spoke,
He'd never seen her face before
She wore a witches hat, and cloak.

'She doesn't want to see you now
She said it's over, go away!
Now we'll be looking after her,
You're finished, done! You've had your day! '

'We've been together seven years, '
He tried to say, but she was gone,
Had slammed the door right in his face
And of Bernice there was no sign.

He phoned her then, when he got back,
The voice that answered wasn't hers,
A grating, rasping voice had said,
'Stop phoning, you have been her curse! '

John asked around the village then
Just who this woman was, and more,
He found out there were two of them
Had moved in just the day before.

The locals said they were well known
Two women from an evil seed,
They played with witchcraft, set their spells,
One called Rag and one called Reed.

They would batten on to weakness
Use their spells to hypnotize,
Said that they'd look after them, then
Move on in and rule their lives.

John sat grieving in his cottage,
Wandered aimless through the wood,
Stalked Bernice's house at night
To try to fathom what he could.

Then one night he saw them, dancing,
In a clearing in the wood,
Chanting spells and laughing, prancing
Calling on old Beelzebub.

'We have brought another convert,
Satan, you must be well pleased!
Send your devils down to take her...'
There was Bernice, on her knees.

On her knees there in the clearing,
Looking dazed, or drugged somehow,
'Send your cohorts down to take her,
See, we make her naked now.'

Then the one called Rag had turned
And torn the gown from off Bernice,
Under it she knelt stark naked,
On all fours, amongst the trees.

John had seen enough, and ran
The tears of grief welled at his eyes,
Pacing in his cottage then
He schemed and planned for their demise.

Cast about and found the items
That would even up the score,
Scoured Junk Shops, bought some hardware,
Saw the farmer Ron Trezore.

Checked the Almanac for April
Marked in red the next full Moon,
Modified his Ghetto Blaster,
Tried recording in his room.

On the night the Moon was rising
Once again he sought the wood,
Hid behind an old oak tree
Beside the clearing, in his hood.

Then at midnight, they came prancing,
They came dancing through the trees,
Dragged along with chains behind them
There he saw his love, Bernice.

Soon they stripped themselves in fervour,
Dancing naked on the green,
Calling on the wily Satan,
Shouting things that were unclean.

Then from out the bushes, roaring,
Came a figure, caked in blood,
Head of sheep and horns of goat,
Satan - in his glory stood!

Rag had yelped and Reed had screamed
And tried to hide their naked forms,
'On all fours, ' the demon growled,
And they had dropped before his horns.

Then he showered them with offal,
Then he poked them, with a stick,
Rag had wailed and Reed threw up
The ghetto blaster did its bit.

Chains and moans and clanking noises
Issued from the speakers there,
Flames burst out from both his hands
And left them both bereft of hair.

Soon the devil walked a circle
Traced them round a ring of fire,
'Should you move before the dawn
I'll take you to your funeral pyre! '

Then he left them, took Bernice
Who came back to his world again,
Marveled at the love he'd shown
And thanked the devil for good men.

The last I heard of Rag and Reed
They worked in some old Nunnery,
Washing dishes, being pious,
Bald on top where hair should be.

John moved in with his Bernice
They never seem to argue now,
Hung right on the mantelpiece
A pair of horns reminds them how.

3 April 2009

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Gift Of The Sea

The dead child lay in the shroud,
And the widow watched beside;
And her mother slept, and the Channel swept
The gale in the teeth of the tide.

But the mother laughed at all.
"I have lost my man in the sea,
And the child is dead. Be still," she said,
"What more can ye do to me?"

The widow watched the dead,
And the candle guttered low,
And she tried to sing the Passing Song
That bids the poor soul go.

And "Mary take you now," she sang,
"That lay against my heart."
And "Mary smooth your crib to-night,"
But she could not say "Depart."

Then came a cry from the sea,
But the sea-rime blinded the glass,
And "Heard ye nothing, mother?" she said,
"'Tis the child that waits to pass."

And the nodding mother sighed.
"'Tis a lambing ewe in the whin,
For why should the christened soul cry out
That never knew of sin?"

"O feet I have held in my hand,
O hands at my heart to catch,
How should they know the road to go,
And how should they lift the latch?"

They laid a sheet to the door,
With the little quilt atop,
That it might not hurt from the cold or the dirt,
But the crying would not stop.

The widow lifted the latch
And strained her eyes to see,
And opened the door on the bitter shore
To let the soul go free.

There was neither glimmer nor ghost,
There was neither spirit nor spark,
And "Heard ye nothing, mother?" she said,
"'Tis crying for me in the dark."

And the nodding mother sighed:
"'Tis sorrow makes ye dull;
Have ye yet to learn the cry of the tern,
Or the wail of the wind-blown gull?"

"The terns are blown inland,
The gray gull follows the plough.
'Twas never a bird, the voice I heard,
O mother, I hear it now!"

"Lie still, dear lamb, lie still;
The child is passed from harm,
'Tis the ache in your breast that broke your rest,
And the feel of an empty arm."

She put her mother aside,
"In Mary's name let be!
For the peace of my soul I must go," she said,
And she went to the calling sea.

In the heel of the wind-bit pier,
Where the twisted weed was piled,
She came to the life she had missed by an hour,
For she came to a little child.

She laid it into her breast,
And back to her mother she came,
But it would not feed and it would not heed,
Though she gave it her own child's name.

And the dead child dripped on her breast,
And her own in the shroud lay stark;
And "God forgive us, mother," she said,
"We let it die in the dark!"

poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Karma

He looked down over the valley,
Over the verdant green and trees,
And suddenly felt so humbled
That he sighed, and fell to his knees,
He'd only been out a single day
With the world before him spread,
So still he could hear those prison gates
As they'd clanged behind, in his head.

He'd finished his twenty seven years
He'd paid society's due,
Locked in a cell of eight by ten
For the things that he'd had to do,
He'd shown no mercy to Annabel,
No more to the Widow Peak,
He'd drowned them, just as he meant to do
When they'd met, in less than a week.

He thrilled at the thought of their staring eyes
As he held them down in the bath,
Watching their lives leach out of them,
Just as he'd done with Kath,
There'd been so many, he'd not confessed
But been convicted for two,
The other ten would have got him life
Without reprieve, if they knew.

He went to live in the valley
Rented a cottage under the trees,
Owned by a man called Anderson
Who'd visited him for years,
He'd said he knew of a valley where
He could start his life again,
He'd said, ‘Now here is your second chance,
Back in the world of men! '

He wandered round in the cottage
Took in the bathroom at a glance,
Took in the nice deep marble tub
With a smirk and a rub of his hands,
The village was just a walk away
But he'd give it a day or two,
Then check for a widow or single girl
At the store, as he wandered through.

He spent the night reminiscing
Thinking of all those staring eyes,
Of Kristen Poole, that silly young fool
That he'd fed with outrageous lies,
Her mouth had flapped like a goldfish
As she fought in a bleak despair,
But nearly a foot of water lay
Between her face and the air.

And who was that girl, that Marigold,
That he'd met in the Shop ‘n Save?
He'd thought that her name was Sanderson,
She didn't know how to behave,
She'd said her brother looked out for her
Would interfere with her fun,
But once in a bath of water,
It would only be fun for one.

He lay and stared at the ceiling as
He felt quite suddenly cold,
The name of his mentor Anderson
Came creeping back to his soul,
He heard the rushing of water
Off in the distance, up on the heights,
And made his way to the village
Lying in darkness, deep in the night,

The cottages all were empty
So was the chapel, totally bare,
The door of the shop was open
Nothing but garbage left in there,
He turned and ran up the village street
But the thunder was hard at his heels,
When a wall of water, ten feet high
Rushed over the verdant fields.

They'd opened the sluices at the dam
To flood the Valley at night,
To turn it into a reservoir
For a city that lay nearby,
The villagers had been gone for a month
But they stood and they watched the tide,
Flooding their tiny cottages
While Anderson laughed, and cried!

11 November 2012

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Annie Marshall the Foundling

Annie Marshall was a foundling, and lived in Downderry,
And was trained up by a coast-guardsman, kind-hearted and merry
And he loved Annie Marshall as dear as his life,
And he resolved to make her his own loving wife.

The night was tempestuous, most terrific, and pitch dark,
When Matthew Pengelly rescued Annie Marshall from an ill-fated barque,
But her parents were engulfed in the briny deep,
Which caused poor Annie at times to sigh and weep.

One day Matthew asked Annie if she would be his wife,
And Annie replied, I never thought of it in all my life;
Yes, my wife, Annie, replied Matthew, hold hard a bit,
Remember, Annie, I've watched you grow up, and consider you most fit.

Poor Annie did not speak, she remained quite mute,
And with agitation she trembled from head to foot,
The poor girl was in a dilemma, she knew not what to say,
And owing to Matthew training her, she couldn't say him nay.

Oh! Matthew, I'm afraid I would not make you a good wife,
And in that respect there would be too much strife,
And the thought thereof, believe me, makes me feel ill,
Because I'm unfit to be thy wife, Matthew, faltered the poor girl.

Time will prove that, dear Annie, but why are you so calm?
Then Annie put her hand shyly into Matthew's brown palm
Just then the flashing lightning played upon Annie's face,
And the loud thunder drowned Matthew's words as Annie left the place.

But Matthew looked after her as she went home straightway,
And his old heart felt light and gay,
As he looked forward for his coming marriage day,
Because he knew that Annie Marshall couldn't say him nay.

Then the sky drew dark, and the sea lashed itself into foam,
But he heeded it not as he sat there alone,
Till the sound of a gun came booming o'er the sea,
Then Matthew had to attend to his duty immediately.

A ship, he muttered, Lord, help them! and coming right in by the sound,
And in a few minutes she will run aground.
And the vessel was dashed against the rocks with her helpless crew,
Then in hot haste for assistance Matthew instantly flew.

Then Matthew returned with a few men all willing to lend their aid,
But amongst them all Matthew seemed the least afraid;
Then an old man cried, Save my boy, for his mother's sake,
Oh! Matthew, try and save him, or my heart will break!

I will, Heaven helping me, Matthew said solemnly,
Come, bear a hand, mates, and lower me over the cliff quietly;
Then Matthew was lowered with ropes into what seemed a watery grave,
At the risk of his own life, old Jonathan Bately's son to save.

So Matthew Pengelly saved Jonathan Bately's son,
And the old man thanked God and Matthew for what he had done,
And the mother's heart was full of gratitude and joy,
For the restoration of her darling boy.

So Matthew resolved to marry Annie Marshall,
But first he'd go to sea whatever did befall,
To earn a few pounds to make the marriage more grand,
So he joined a whaling vessel and went to Greenland

And while Matthew was away at Greenland,
David Bately wanted to marry Annie Marshall right off hand,
But Annie refused to marry David Bately,
So in anger David Bately went another voyage to sea.

A few nights after David Bately had gone to sea,
Annie's thoughts reverted to Matthew Pengelly,
And as she sat in the Downderry station watching the boiling waves below,
The wind blew a terrific gale, which filled her heart with woe.

And as she sat there the big waves did loudly roar,
When a man cried, Help! help! there's a corpse washed ashore;
Then Annie rushed madly to the little beach,
And when she saw the corpse she gave a loud screech

So there is but little more to tell of this sad history,
Only that Annie Marshall mourned long for Matthew Pengelly,
Who had floated home to be buried amongst his own kin,
But, alas! the rest of the crew were buried in the sea, save him.

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Tattooed Man

He looked like a common sailor
As he wandered up from the port,
Carried his swag on his shoulder,
Wore a cap of the jaunty sort,
His eyes were livid and bloodshot,
Staring, under a tattooed brow,
And on his cheeks, a scatter of stars
As seen from an old ship's prow.

He stopped at the Mariners Arms
And bought a room on the upper floor,
Went out and stood on the balcony,
And stared on down at the square,
He'd left his shirt in the tiny room,
His torso, full in view,
There wasn't an inch of his sailor skin
Untouched by a bright tattoo.

His arms were covered in serpents
Writhing up, and under his chin,
His shoulders, Chinese Characters,
Of Ports, where he might have been,
His sides were covered in fungi
Found in tropical forest glades,
And down on his muscular midriff
The ubiquitous Queen of Spades.

And there on his chest in colours
Very subtle, and so refined,
There lay a naked woman
Baring all as she lay reclined,
Her lips were coloured in scarlet gloss
And pursed in a sensual pout,
Her eyes a searching, brilliant blue
That would find her lover out.

He turned away from the village square
And rested back on the rail,
So now the tattoos across his back
Could be seen... a Schooner's sail,
With storm-filled clouds and a rising swell
As the breakers slid on by,
And over the top, above it all
A piercing, staring eye!

For every passer-by that stared
The eye had stared them back,
Had stared right into the guilty soul
Where every sin was black!
And hairs rose up on the back of the neck,
And shivers ran down the spine,
As guilt drove men to the 'Man of War'
To drown their fears in wine!

And I... I came to the Mariners Arms
And I saw the tattoos there,
And the woman, bared on the sailor's chest
Made me quake and shake in fear,
For the face was unmistakable,
I had left her safe at home,
That face of lust was the woman I trust,
Was the wife I knew as Joan.

For days the sailor prowled the streets
And he peered through windows there,
But he never wore a shirt nor coat,
And he kept his torso bare,
The tattoos seemed to come to life
As he moved, they moved with him,
I saw the serpents flickering tongues
Reach out, and under his chin!

And from his back, the eye stared out
Made strong men weak and quail,
Their knees gave way as it stared them down
And they felt their courage fail,
Then Joan saw him in the market place,
And stood there, hypnotized,
As she stared at the face on the sailor's chest,
And he pierced her, with his eyes.

I saw her enter the Mariners Arms
And I tried to call her back,
But she walked like one in a crazy dream
And I heard her call him, 'Jack...'
They disappeared up the stairway,
Made their way to the upper floor,
I had raced to the top of the stairs when they
Went in, and locked the door.

Out in the street, the clouds rolled in
And the sea beat up on the shore,
The rain came down in a torrent,
Lightning flashed at the old Inn door,
Then he came out on the balcony,
Turned round, and showed his back,
Clung to the mast of the Schooner
There was a woman, dressed in black!

I followed the sailor down the street
In the wind and the pouring rain,
As lightning lit the storm on his back
And the woman screamed in pain,
But on his chest was an open space
And the eye had stared me down,
As he boarded a battered Schooner,
And then sailed away from the town!

24 August 2010

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Boy Who Came Down from the Cross

He stood beside his father before tumbling into a deep pit.
A split second later a volley of shots were fired.
His father fell with the others into the abyss, shot dead.
But sixteen year old Zvi Michalowski was alive.

It was a pitch dark night when he climbed out of the pit.
He was naked and his body covered with blood.
He heard the Lithuanian executioners singing, laughing,
Celebrating the shooting of the Jews.
They were all drunk by now.

As Hitler’s armies were advancing on Moscow
The murderers arrived with an Einsatzgruppen unit.
They entered Eishyshok, an old Jewish town in south Lithuania,
On September 25 of 1941. On the same day and the next
The paramilitary SS units massacred about 5,000 Jews
From Eishyshok and adjacent villages.

Zvi Michalowski knew the place like the palm of his hand.
He passed the Jewish cemetery beyond which Polish and
Lithuanian families lived. He knocked on the door of the first house.
A peasant opened the door. In his hand he held a lamp
With a Star of David, which he looted from a Jewish home.

‘Let me in, please’, the boy implored. The man raised the lamp
And looked at the blood covered naked body of the boy.
‘Jew, go back to the grave that you came from! ’ he said
And he shut the door in his face.

Zvi Michalowski knocked on many doors on that night
But nobody wanted to take him in. In his wanderings he arrived
In a wooded area. He knew the old widow who lived in the house
And knocked on the door. She was shocked to see the boy.

She held a burning piece of wood in her hand and spurned him.
He stood there nevertheless. She cursed him, sending him away
With angry words. When he did not move she threatened him
With the fiery wood she had in her hand.

But the boy refused to go away. ‘I am your Lord, Jesus Christ,
Who came down from the cross’, he told her. ‘Now look at me,
Look at the blood of my body, the pain the suffering of the innocent.
Please, let me in’.

Shaking all over, the old woman began to pray.
She fell on her knees at the bloodstained feet of the boy.
Then she slowly rose to her feet, opened the door and let him in.
‘Oh, my dear God, oh my dear God, oh my dear God’,
She kept repeating her prayer, crossing herself each time.

The boy asked the woman not to tell anyone about his visit.
She asked him to bless her family and her, which he promptly did.
She gave him food and clothes and prepared for him a warm bath.
He stayed in her house for three days and three nights.

When Zvi Michalowski left the house he was dressed as a farmer
And carried a food supply for a week. Soon he reached
The nearby forest and went into hiding. He survived the war
Fighting the Nazis as a partisan.

poem by Paul Hartal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Monster & Captain Kreel

We were out in the North Atlantic
When the storm began to blow,
We reefed in the tops and gallants so
We wouldn't end down below,
The ship was tossed in a fury,
The mate was strapped to the wheel,
There wasn't a dry man left aboard,
Not even Captain Kreel.

The Captain, he was a bully,
He would flog 'til his arm was sore,
He drove the men at their stations 'til
They couldn't have taken more,
He kept a rope at the yardarm,
A warning to every man,
His word was not to be questioned if
A tar didn't want to hang!

Each wave was a liquid mountain
That crashed on the after deck,
The wind was a screaming banshee that
Would threaten, despair and wreck,
When out from below there came a scream,
A woman, so fair of face,
But the Captain swore an ugly oath
That the ship was in disgrace!

The wife of an able seaman,
He'd smuggled the girl aboard,
He'd thought he could keep her hidden there
Until they went ashore,
But the men with their superstitions
Then blamed her for the storm,
They seized her, dragged to the gunnels
And would hurry her overboard!

The Captain barked out an order,
The jack tars staggered back,
They wouldn't defy their Captain if
The ship was under attack!
The mate then seized the woman
And bared her at the breast,
Turned her to face the heaving sea
As she stood there, half undressed.

Bare breasted, like the figurehead
They carried on the prow,
A woman was known to calm the seas
If she shamed its gods somehow,
The wind died down in the stays and yards
And the sea died down as well,
But she little knew as she covered up
She approached the gates of hell!

The seaman was court-martialled,
Up there, on the quarter deck,
Where the Captain gave no quarter,
It was keel haul, or his neck!
They tied the rope around his chest
And flung him overboard,
We heaved on the rope, and prayed he'd hold
His breath 'til he came aboard.

We dragged him under the water,
And felt him under the keel,
The rope was a little bit lighter
Than the brow of Captain Kreel,
For he was a livid monster
Who just wanted the seaman dead,
His plans for the wife were plain to see
As he sent her to his bed!

The seaman's body surfaced,
It wasn't going well,
We hauled him over the side of the ship
'Til we caught a glimpse of hell,
The rope was knotted about his chest
And twisted around his neck,
There was nothing at all below the waist,
As his entrails sprayed the deck!

Even the Captain blanched at this
But he motioned us away,
'Toss the remains all overboard
Then swab the decks - Belay! '
We wondered how Jones was cut in half,
It couldn't have been the keel,
But kept our mutterings to ourselves,
For fear of the monster, Kreel.

Out on the starboard side we saw
A giant head appear,
Just as the body hit the waves
It reared, and sniffed the air,
Then pounced on the human morsel,
Picked it up in its savage jaw,
As we shrank on back at its evil eye
It gave out a primitive roar.

There wasn't a moment from then on
We weren't all chilled inside,
The monster followed and circled us
As we rode the heaving tide,
It must have been eighty feet or more,
A great, carnivorous beast,
The serpent had tasted human flesh
And we were a human feast!

The wind had dropped, the sails were limp,
We couldn't sail for home,
We were caught in the theme of a nightmare dream
Where the beasts of the world could roam,
The Captain kept to his cabin then,
We could hear the woman plead,
With a monster within, a monster without
We were caught in a monstrous creed.

'It's all the fault of that woman there! '
I knew what the ratings thought,
'We need to be throwing her overboard
To escape the luck she brought! '
The mate came down and roused them out,
'There'll be no talk of this,
We have to get under sail tonight
When the wind begins to rise.'

The Captain showed on the quarter-deck
Just after the seventh bell,
The sun was down in the west, the moon
Was riding high, as well.
We raised the sails as the shadows loomed,
Unfurled topgallant stays,
I was watching the Captain against the moon
His back to the after rail.

The serpent's head loomed large above
The figure of Captain Kreel,
The hairs rose up on the back of my neck
As I watched the shadows steal.
It opened up with its mighty jaw
Clamped down on the Captain's head,
Lifted him clear of the quarter deck
As he screamed - 'Oh God! I'm dead! '

We never saw Captain Kreel again,
But nobody seemed to care,
We sailed for the Falkland Islands then,
And we left the woman there,
I heard she married again, sometime,
To a sailor known as Kip,
And dreams of her home in Pompey, but -
They won't let her onto a ship!

24 December 2009

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The House of the Scarlet Moon

I fell in love with a Chinese girl
Her name was Chen Xiao Fei,
We worked together in Middle School
In the Province of Anhui,
She'd join me in my apartment when
The working day was done,
But never would take me to home to meet
Her mother, Chen Shaojun.

Xiao Fei was going on thirty, which
Had meant, in Chinese terms,
That she was a spinster, on the shelf,
She had no marriage plans,
I asked her once if she'd marry me
But she laughed and said, 'No way!
My mother would jump from the balcony
If I married an old Yang Wei.'

I called in once to the family home
To win her mother round,
She glared at me as I paced the floor,
Her father sat and frowned,
She wouldn't sit at the table while
I stayed there, under her roof,
But screeched at her daughter, in Chinese,
Some slang that was quite uncouth.

She came one day to say, Xiao Fei,
The wedding date was set,
I asked her who was the lucky man -
But she'd not even met him yet!
Her mother had schemed and arranged it all
To thwart what plans we had,
She cried a bucket of silent tears
But would do as her mother said.

She stayed away for a month or two
To let things settle down,
Then married the man that her mother chose
From a village, out of town.
When a month had passed, I was feeling lost
'Til there came a knock at my door,
It was Chen Xiao Fei in some deep dismay
So I sat with her, down on the floor.

She clung on tight to my shoulder, sobbed,
And cried, wouldn't let me go,
The man she'd married was such a brute
As the marks and the bruises showed,
But worse than that, she looked at me
As her eyes had begun to mist,
'I'm having a child, and I don't quite know
If the baby's yours, or his! '

I sat quite shocked in the evening gloom,
And I felt a sudden chill,
'You'll know as soon as the baby's born, '
I said, but my heart stood still.
If she should deliver a foreign child
She'd be left in a deep disgrace,
And her family then would turn their backs
From the horror of 'losing face'.

Our fears were proven a few months on,
The child was a baby boy,
At first the father and parents danced,
They couldn't conceal their joy,
In China, there is the one child rule,
One chance is all that you get,
So girls go missing there all the time
If the father's mind is set.

For sons are valued as girls are not,
A boy can work on the farm,
A girl will grow to be someone's wife,
Will travel away from home.
So often, just when the child is born
The father will wait outside,
The judge and the executioner,
It's often a question of pride.

A boy is swept up in loving arms,
A girl will wait on the thumb,
If the thumb goes down then the baby drowns
Or is dumped in the cinder drum.
If a boy is born with a fatal flaw,
His fate is the same as hers,
Or he may be sold to a heartless soul,
They call it the Chinese Curse.

The boy was fine 'til he opened his eyes
And they saw that his eyes were blue,
His skin was yellow, his hair was black
But the eyes... the eyes... They knew!
Not even a day had passed before
The baby had paid for our sin,
He was sold to a beggar for ten yuan,
A beggar named Sun Lang Lin.

The birth, already forgotten there
Was marked - 'delivered but dead! '
The Doctor was paid a forgetting fee,
As Xiao Fei cried in her bed,
She told me, when she returned to work,
What they'd done with our beautiful son,
She looked aside, avoided my eyes,
Pretended they'd done nothing wrong.

It took me a month to discover the name
Of the beggar, Sun Lang Lin,
I haunted the areas beggars haunt,
But could find no sign of him,
Then just by chance, a crippled child
Who begged by a streetside bin,
Cowered away when I asked her the way
To the beggar called Sun Lang Lin.

She raised a hand to protect herself
At the sound of his hated name,
She said that he'd kicked and he'd beaten her
Had crippled and brought her to shame,
This child was one of a dozen he had
Who begged for him, night to noon,
She whispered his place of ill-fame in my ear,
'The House of the Scarlet Moon'.

I couldn't find anyone willing to talk about
Where this old Tavern was,
I knew it was out in the countryside,
Beside a deserted Mosque.
I travelled by day and I slept rough at night
As I searched in the dusk and the gloom,
Then finally, there in the distance I spied
The House of the Scarlet Moon.

Sun Lang Lin lay in his dirty rags
On a bed on the floor at the back,
I waited 'til midnight, picked up a rock
And I worked out my plan of attack,
Children were crying in fitful sleep
In a room in that dark old den,
I crept through the dark to the crying there
To look for my blue-eyed son.

Around the walls were earthenware jars
And each with a child within,
He'd jammed them in tight, where nothing could grow,
Their legs would be twisted and thin,
This house of horrors and nightmares kept
Its secrets all wrapped in gloom,
My son lay there on a coverlet,
In the House of the Scarlet Moon.

I seized my son, I smashed the jars,
The children fell to the floor,
They each were maimed and deformed, I knew,
They'd never be able to walk,
They'd spend their lives in the gutters for him,
Set up with a begging bowl,
I wondered how people like Sun Lang Lin
Could open the doors to the soul.

He woke, came running right into the room,
And he pulled out a long, sharp knife,
I laid my son on the coverlet
And prepared to fight for my life,
He lunged just once, I stepped aside,
I hit him just once with the rock,
He fell and he didn't get up again
So I picked up my son, and took off.

Once well away in the undergrowth
I stopped and I turned, to see,
A flame was flickering through the roof
Of the Tavern that used to be.
It all went up with a mighty roar
As I hugged my son in the gloom,
There's no more babies, or cripples made
At the House of the Scarlet Moon.

2 December 2008

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Reckoning

My mother was carried to heaven
On the day that I turned six,
She died of tuberculosis
Spitting blood in a coughing fit,
She'd been so ill for a long long time
That I couldn't recall her smile,
My father, he just grumbled, said:
'Your Ma will be gone for a while.'

'She's gone to sing in a choir up there,
Who knows how long she will be? '
But I saw the coffin that carried her out,
The hearse and the burial tree,
I watched as it sank down into the ground
And my father just left it there,
Went off to visit my 'aunt', he said,
A woman with long, blond hair.

I stayed at home, such a lonely child,
And went to a place in my head,
Where mother was fit and without a care
She laughed at the things I said,
My father left me alone a lot
So mother would tell me, 'Shush! '
We'd laugh and giggle when he went out
But talk in a sort of hush.

I played outside at other times
Where the grass grew long and wild,
I'd catch the skinks as they darted past,
I was always a curious child,
I'd bring the Sleepy Lizards home,
My father didn't mind,
He said I could keep the pets I caught,
I thought he was being kind.

But then one day he came on home
With this 'aunt', who moved right in,
He said they were married now, so I
Should call her 'Mum', not Jen.
I scowled, and went to my room to cry,
My mother was looking sad,
She said, 'just do what your father says,
I'm your Mother, but he's your Dad.'

This Jenny, she was all right at first
She tried to make me smile,
But I was feeling rebellious then,
And turned my back for a while,
I kept my rabbits and guinea pigs
And fed them out in their hutch,
But Jenny came out to look at them,
And she didn't like them much.

I knew, she wrinkled her powdered nose
And said, 'Oh pew! They stink!
We'll have to find you a hobby, one
That's pure and clean, I think.'
I heard her talking to father, say
That she thought I was rather slow,
She wanted the garden tidied up
So my animals had to go.

It was just about that time, I think
That my mother said goodbye,
She couldn't stay in that house, she said,
It was time for her to fly,
She left me alone in a great big world
So I brought a Lizard inside,
And put it under my bedclothes
Thought it a perfect place to hide.

When Jenny made the bed, she screamed
And shook me like a rag,
She went and got a kitchen knife
And a plastic shopping bag,
She made me put the Lizard in
Then she took the bag outside,
And stabbed and stabbed 'til the Lizard bled,
'Til my Lizard friend had died.

'Now bury it! ' she said to me,
'And don't you ever dare
Bring filthy animals into this house,
For if you do, I swear...'
At this she put the knife to my throat
And stood and watched me scream,
I saw the hate in her powdered face
It was like an awful dream!

Whenever my father left the house
She'd always scream and shout,
Knock me around for the slightest thing
Then drag me, throw me out,
Lock the door so I couldn't get in
And give me nothing to eat,
She said if I told my Dad on her
It would only get me beat.

She killed my rabbits, cooked them up
And served them from a pot,
She gave me a crooked, evil grin:
'You'd better eat the lot! '
I found myself in a black, black rage
Inside, at the things she'd done,
And hoped that my father would go on out
And buy himself a gun.

He never knew what she did to me,
I never would dare to say,
I knew that she'd get me on my own
And then there'd be hell to pay,
So I stayed outside in the barren fields
And found me a hessian sack,
Then went for a hunt with a long, forked stick,
It was time to get her back!

I waited until he'd gone away,
Was gone two days or more,
Then bit my tongue as she raved at me,
Spat hate from the kitchen door,
The morning came, and there wasn't a sound
To come from that angry head,
And I will never regret the day
I put a snake in her bed.

10 March 2009

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Hallow Even

Jack found the biggest pumpkin
I had ever seen, I swear,
He wheeled it in a barrow from
The local Pumpkin Fair,
‘And what d'you think you'll do with that? '
His sister said, Colleen,
‘I'll make a Jack O'Lantern, for
Tonight, it's Halloween! '

‘I betcha don't! ' ‘I bet I do! '
They said, in childish chat,
For Jack was two years older so
He gave her tit for tat,
‘I'm gonna dress up like a witch
And put a spell on you,
That thing will end up pumpkin soup
Mixed in my witch's brew! '

‘I'll put my clothes on inside out,
Walk backwards round the fire,
My Lantern will bring back the dead,
I'm raising Jim O'Dwyer,
And he will bring the big black sow…'
But that was when she screamed,
His father cuffed him round the head
‘Stop frightening Colleen! '

O'Dwyer still hung in chains back then
Had danced his final jig,
He'd strangled little Annie Penn
Then fed her to his pig.
They hung him at the old crossroads
And staked his wicked heart,
And Colleen shut her eyes up tight
When passing, in the cart.

That night they lit the bonfire and
Then went to trick or treat,
The farmers gave them soul cakes
And their wives some home-made sweets,
But Colleen had complained all night
Had moaned and told them lies,
He said, ‘You wait ‘til we get home,
I'll raise Widow Tresize! '

Tresize had been their schoolmarm
And had caned them as she taught,
Colleen had felt it on her legs
When she and Jack had fought,
The widow ended coughing blood
All over Colleen's dress,
And Colleen screamed as she collapsed,
‘Look what you've done - Bad cess! '

She'd always been a spiteful child
And Jack would sit and brood,
Each time his father punished him
For being rough, or crude,
He'd sit up lonely in his room
And tear her dolls apart,
Imagining no sister as
He stuck pins in her heart.

The Lantern sat in pride of place
Out by the great bonfire,
Its evil eyes glowed in the dark,
Its mouth, a dreadful leer,
But Colleen threw a tantrum
Said the face made her feel sick,
She set about it with her broom
And poked it, with a stick.

The pumpkin smashed, in pieces lay
Jack sat with wounded pride,
He took her witches broom and flung it
In the fire, outside,
Another cuff around the head
His anger turned to hate,
And Colleen sniggered just once more
And sealed her morbid fate.

The barrel in the kitchen floated
Apples by the score,
The dunking was the one good thing
That Jack was waiting for,
When Colleen dunked and dunked again
Jack stood behind, and frowned,
Then called out to his father, ‘Da!
I think Colleen has drowned! '

David Lewis Paget

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

I Must Have Been Sleeping

'Where are you going, ' I heard her say
As the dream took me straight to the core,
We parked at the side of a very long road
And I got out the driver's door;
'I've never known that, ' I replied, and she sat
On her hands, with the pain of surprise,
'So what you've been saying has never been true! '
The tears rose up in her eyes!

'The road has been long, the road has been wide,
I never knew where I could turn.'
'I thought you were happy with me, ' she said;
There was nothing to say in return.
'I must have been sleeping for seventeen years, '
My voice sounded foreign and coarse,
But I couldn't handle the sighs and the lies,
Or the terrible sound of - 'divorce! '

I walked to the wood at the side of the road,
And followed the pathway around,
I couldn't look back now I'd made up my mind
Though I walked unfamiliar ground,
The clearing was quiet, the birds didn't sing,
A mountain rose up in my view,
I suddenly saw there was no going back
To the comfortable life that I knew.

I cast off my shackles and took a deep breath,
To breathe in both freedom and pride,
My strength was returning, and clearer my eye,
I walked with a bounce in my stride,
The years fell away, I was thirty again,
I stopped then, and sat on a stone,
For darkness was gathering there in the gloom
With that terrible feeling - alone!

I thought of the woman I'd left on the road,
Who'd always been faithful to me,
The tears that she'd shed for a love that was dead
Made me sad, and ashamed to be free,
I thought of the comfort she'd given me when
All my world started going insane,
She'd cooked and she'd cared, and she'd loved and she'd shared
And I'd given her nothing but pain.

I turned on the track, and I made my way back
But I couldn't see where I had been,
I stumbled through thickets and walked into trees
And I fell on my knees on the green.
'I am lost, I am lost, ' I cried into the night
Then I heard her voice, dim, by a tree
And woke to her stroking my face and my brow
As I cried… She was waiting for me!

9 March 2008

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Birth

he was born on a dark lonely night
and not a soul was in sight.
his mother was driving home
on that starry night, when she started
to feel the contractions.

she knew right then that she would
have to take action.
she pulled alongside that old country road
and her stomach she did hold
.
when she felt that waterbag bust
and in GOD she put her trust.
she asked the LORD what she should do
for she knew not what to do.

she heard a voice so soft and gentle
that told her to stay calm.
for this was a special child
that would be born this night
and that everything was going
to be allright.

she pushed the front seat back
as far as it would go
and took off her clothing so
that she could see.

the pains became so severe
and a head did appear.
she pushed with all her might
so that this child could be free.
for this was the way
it was meant to be.

as the child started to come out
from her lungs came a shout.
this child came out with such ease
and she felt a gentle breeze
as if it was a whisper upon her face
and she knew it was through GODS grace.

with a penknife she cut the cord.
and cleaned him up the best she could.

she wrapped him within her coat
and put the heater on
and drove back to a distant farm.

when she got to the farm
and banged upon the door.
when no one answered
she knealt down on the floor.

again she called upon the LORD
and asked what she should do.
he told her to look towads the barn
for there was a light as bright as day
and the farmer was baling hay.

as she got to the barn door
she collapsed in sheer exhaustion.
when she finally opened up her eyes
on the hay she did lay.

and beside her lay her child.
and the farmer told her she was
out for quite a while.

but the ambulance was on the way
and that he could not move her
in fear of jeopardizing her life
and that she was cleaned up
by his lovely wife.

now the farmers wife was
a religious woman
who believed that nothing
happens by chance.
and at this child she did glance.

she said that he had an aura
of light above his head
just like the bible which she had read.

she looked at this childs mother
and asked her this:
'is this coincidence or is this
a sign from above
that he would be in a barn
like christ was in the manger?

she recalled that gentle voice and
what it had said.
that a special child would be born on this night.

now you tell me.
was she wrong, or was she right?

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Jus Primae Noctis

(In medieval times, the right of the
Lord of the Manor to spend the first night
with a peasant's bride) .

John and Jayne at the altar stood,
To put up their wedding banns,
In the Church at Haversham, Holy Cross
On Sir Robert de Courcy's lands,
When a clatter of hooves on the cobblestones
Brought dread to the open door,
As the Lord of the Manor came striding in
And planted his feet on the floor.

He looked at the two with a great disdain,
His hand on his scabbard sword,
His knights stood silent across the nave,
Not one would utter a word.
His voice rang out in that hallowed place
As Jayne cowered down, distress'd,
'I come to claim the Lord's First Right
By the power jus primae noctis.'

He strolled so arrogant down the aisle,
Of the Hereford Village Kirk,
Then drew his sword with a wicked smile,
With the tip of it, lifted her skirt,
'Her legs are fine, I can tell you that, '
He said to John with a sneer,
But John had averted his eyes to the floor
As his eyes were beginning to tear.

De Courcy turned, and he walked away
Up the aisle to the Norman doors,
Then turned at last with a final command
That would end their short discourse,
'You'll place yourself at my mercy, then,
And leave your husband denied,
You'll make your way to the castle gate
On the night that the knot is tied! '

John had cursed as they rode away,
The priest was more reserved,
'You should think it an honour, young man, ' he said,
That your bride will be well served.
With luck, you may get a blue-blood son,
And honours will come his way,
Sir Robert has twenty or more in the town
That are blessed in the usual way.'

Jayne knew, of course, it would come to this,
She had seen with her sister Jone,
Carried away to the castle gate,
And weep all the way back home.
She'd watched her belly grow big with child
While her man had cursed and sworn,
'Til the day she lay on a bale of hay
As the child arrived, still-born.

Meanwhile, in Bristol, came a ship
That had sailed from Gascony,
Dropping a sickening sailor there
With its wines and its armoury,
The sailor staggered up streets outside,
And fell in the tavern door,
Infected all that were drinking there,
As the pestilence came ashore.

It spread at the rate of a raging fire
That nothing could halt or douse,
The abscesses in the armpits made
Their way from house to house,
The plague ran on through the countryside
And arrived at Haversham,
On the day of the wedding of John and Jayne
Though they didn't know it then.

There was just one victim on that day,
A woman who stayed at home,
She watched as her flesh grew puffy, as
The boils grew down below,
She sent a note to her sister, said
'I'll not be there at the feast,
But I have a gift I'll give to you,
It's the least I can do... the least! '

That evening, out by the castle gate
A woman was led inside,
De Courcy sat in the dark, and watched
As she knelt by the Lord's bedside,
She knelt in shadows, and then she wept
And he watched as she disrobed,
Then stood quite naked beside his bed
For the lord to touch and probe.

He pulled her onto the bed and grasped her
Close to his body there,
And then she laughed, it was not the laugh
Of a bride caught in despair,
The moon shone bright through the chamber then
And he shrank from the woman's moan,
She was covered in blood and pustules, said:
'Not Jayne - but her sister Jone! '

He screamed for his knights, who pulled her off,
Then spilt her blood on the floor,
Cut off her head, then shrank in dread
At the sight of her festering sores,
The plague ran right through the castle then,
Spared not one knight or horse,
While John and Jayne in the forest lay
Til the plague had run its course.

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Looking for Love

We married when we were just nineteen,
I thought her a perfect catch,
We'd fallen in love on the day she came
To watch, at a football match,
I'd fallen badly, injured my leg
And was subbed in the second half,
She came to the dressing room, and tied
My leg with her silken scarf.

She said that she was a trainee nurse
And practice was better than none,
I told her I was a graduate,
I'd be limping from now on,
We took a seat at a coffee shop
And stayed for the afternoon,
As I gazed at her dark brown eyes and hair,
And she smiled at me in the gloom.

Our romance whirled us on at a pace
That was breathless, with content,
Whatever our fate would hold for us
We were sure that it was meant,
I ceased to notice the other girls,
And she looked only at me,
We tied the knot on a fresh Spring morn
As we stood by a willow tree.

We made our home in a city flat
Close to her hospital,
I studied and crammed for my Ph.D.
Not counting the cost at all,
But soon we were way behind in the rent
And moved on out to the burbs,
Life was more difficult than we'd thought,
We grew our own veggies, and herbs.

She worked three shifts, and came home tired,
And I would study all night,
Then one came in as the other went out,
I felt that it wasn't right,
We argued then, and we made it up,
Then we argued a little more,
She said she'd go to her parents then,
But I just barred the door.

We'll just have to work it out, ' I said,
'We can't go giving up now,
I know that I love you, Sylvia,
And things will improve, somehow.'
'I love you too, but it's such a mess, '
She cried, and dabbed at her tears,
'There's not enough money to buy a house
And there won't be, not for years.'

I shelved my studies, applied for a job,
The money was not very good,
I'd studied for years, and there was I
In a sawmill, cutting wood.
I suddenly felt resentful then
To be wed to a low-paid nurse,
She'd lost that spark in her eyes that said
I love you, better or worse.

We slowly drifted apart, she'd work
An extra shift when she could,
While I would prowl in the nightclubs
Where the folk were up to no good.
I drank a lot, got bleary eyed,
Came home, hung-over and grim,
While Sylvie began to ignore me,
Often went out as I came in.

One night at a Club, I saw a girl
Blonde hair and the bluest eyes,
Dolled up in a mini skirt so short
It attracted all the guys,
She danced and shimmied around the room
And giggled and seemed like fun,
She made me think of my Sylvie
Now that the spark and the fun had gone.

Each Wednesday night I saw this girl,
But she never looked at me,
I grew obsessed as I followed her,
It compounded my misery.
I'd get up close and she'd whirl away
And dance with another guy,
I'd like to have gone and talked to her
But I guess I was feeling shy.

For weeks I had tried, got close to her
But then couldn't squeeze out a word,
I felt myself falling in love again
But knew that was quite absurd,
For Sylvie was there at the back of my mind,
I couldn't quite block her out,
But then when the blonde whirled past again
My heart would jump into my mouth.

There came the day that I followed her home,
She lived in the burbs, like me,
We both caught the number seventeen
Though she was ahead of me,
I sat at the back and hid myself,
We came to my usual stop,
Then to my surprise, the blonde stood up
Walked down the aisle and got off.

I wasn't that far behind her then
But she hurried away, and ran,
I thought it strange, and increased my pace
But she left me behind at the Strand.
She turned the corner, into my street
But then she had disappeared,
My heart was pounding, I almost ran...
Could it be what I really feared?

I walked unsteadily into the house,
But stopped at the kitchen door,
For there was Sylvie, a wig in her hand
A blonde that I'd seen before,
She grinned at me, popped her contacts out
And said, 'Hi, where have you been? '
Then laughed, and I saw my Sylvie again
As I'd seen her at just nineteen.

We made the most passionate, frantic love
With her blonde wig back in place,
'I thought that I'd teach you a lesson, ' she said,
With a sly look on her face.
And since that day I've been cured of straying,
Each time she comes through the door,
She's a blonde, brunette, a redhead yet...
What red-blooded man could want more?

8 April 2009

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Stranger (story)

(story 03/14/11)

I saw a man coming down the road
Head held high, eyes were strong.
He stopped and asked of me
If he could have a bite to eat.

His clothes were all torn and tattered
I asked him what was the matter.
He looked at me and his eyes turned down
His face changed from a smile to a frown.

Hard times I have come across
I was let go by my boss
He said the times was making him downsize
And he had to let go of people to survive.
Everyone was doing the same
People losing their jobs was quite a shame.

Being a farmer who had hard times too
I knew exactly what he was going thru.
So I invited him inside to sit for a spell
For traveling these roads could really be hell.

He was given some soup to take
the chill out of his bones
And was told by the farmer that he wasn’t alone.
He was then given some dinner to eat
To this man it was quite a treat.

The farmer told him he could bathe and
stay the night - and if he wanted to leave
He could leave at first light.
He laid out some pajamas for him to wear
Even gave him some clean underwear.
The bed in the spare room was “ oh so nice”
And he slept peacefully throughout the night.
When he awoke there was breakfast on the table
Coffee, ham and eggs, and cream cheese on a bagel.
After having breakfast he felt like a new man
He looked for the farmer to shake his hand.
He thanked the farmer and asked him his name
He pointed to a wooden nameplate which said:
J. CHRISTHISSON- but some call me J.C.
He then told him he put a fresh set of clothes
On his backpack, turned around and didn’t look back.
So he put on his new clothes and out the door he went
Thinking that this man was heaven sent.
As he walked a mile down the road
He felt guilty that he didn’t thank him properly
For being so kind to a man in need.
He ran back to the farm house and knocked at the door
To be greeted by someone he had never saw.
“I am looking for the farmer who owns this place! ”
That would be me! What can I do for you?
He said: no! that can not be! It was a younger
Man, not as elderly with a beard and shoulder length hair.
He gave me dinner and invited me in, let me bathe
And to have a good nights sleep, then gave
Me these clothes and breakfast to eat.
I don’t see how here you could have stayed
When my wife and I were in another county far away.
But there has been stories going around
About someone helping people when their luck was down.
As he said that - the strangers back pack fell
to the ground, and he heard a clatter.
The man looked at him and asked what was the matter.
He opened his backpack and a wooden name plate fell to the ground
And broke in three- when he looked he could not believe what he saw.
The three parts said: J.CHRIST-HIS-SON
And a cross and rosary laid alongside with a note with one word.
HOPE
Now who could this man have been?

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Wattle & Daub

She lived right next to the forest
In a cottage of wattle and daub,
A roof of bark and a floor of dirt
With a whisk of milk, absorbed,
Her man had died of a heart attack
For over a year, he'd gone,
Had left her to fend for herself out there
In the shade of a ghostly gum.

He lay right under a stringy bark,
She'd dug the grave herself,
Had made a cross with her loving hands
Deep planted at his head,
On lonely nights she would sit out there
And whisper him under the stars,
'Oh Jim, where now are your strong, brown hands,
Where now are your loving arms? '

She didn't cry, for she couldn't cry
For her heart had turned to stone,
Her love was buried and six feet down
With crumbling flesh and bone,
Her eyes were hard as the hardest flint,
Her lips a fine white line,
And when the stars came out at night
She would look for the slightest sign.

She looked for a heaven beyond the stars,
She looked for the eyes of God,
She knew that he watched her as she slept,
He watched where her steps had trod,
She prayed for her days to end in peace
And soon, for she was alone,
She carved a notch in the mantelpiece
Each day, since her love had flown.

She bucketed water from the creek
That trickled on past her door,
It once was a raging river bed
But that had been back, before...
Before a neighboring farmer dammed,
And quelled the flowing stream,
Had turned her husband's protests down
With a sneer, and words obscene.

Her Jim had worked then twice as hard
To irrigate his feed,
The cattle had died in the summer months
On the parched ground of their need,
He worked from the time the sun came up
To the time that the stars came out,
And in the end, collapsed and died
From the toil of a man-made drought.

The farmer up by the dam had said
That he'd take her land for free,
She'd never be able to stay out there
Alone, she would turn and flee,
Then he would double his pasture
And would open the dam to flood,
And let his cattle to roam abroad
By the cottage of wattle and daub.

Now during the long drawn evenings
And deep in the forest's shade,
She could hear strange noises, threatening,
As they howled across the glade,
She loaded the shotgun Jim had left,
And kept it inside the door,
She'd not be driven from off the land
Where her husband lay, forlorn.

One night a shadowy figure came
Strode out of the darkening wood,
Crossed the creek in the evening mist
In a cape with a long black hood,
It howled and jittered like one possessed
She opened the cottage door,
Then blanched as she saw it light a torch
And the flames begin to roar.

She went to reach for the shotgun then
But a hand caught fast her wrist,
Lifted the gun and pointed it,
She stood with her hand on her breast,
Her heart was pounding, her legs were weak
As she watched the phantom stand,
He shrieked in fear as he saw the gun
In a strong, brown pair of hands.

The blast took one of his legs clean off,
The phantom fell with a scream,
The shotgun dropped to the earthen porch
She thought it a crazy dream,
She turned to look for the strong brown hands
That she knew as well as her own,
But the porch was clear, and she felt no fear
For her husband had come home.

The dam was breached in a minute or so,
The torrent then flooded down,
Washed the remains of the farmer to
The lowlands, where he drowned,
She went out back and buried the gun
With a smile in her eyes, like stars
Looked up to the skies, and saw God's eyes
And round her, two loving arms!

4 June 2009

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!