The Stake
The dig was held at Sozopol
Beside the Black Sea shore,
Where Iskra Angelova
Came parading, past my door.
She asked me, was I Stevens,
From the Bramling Institute?
But my eyes were full of lips and hair,
And so I sat there, mute!
She had those Slavic cheekbones
And those bright, wide honeyed eyes,
And a smile that told my fortune,
Partly truth, but mostly lies,
And I knew we'd be together
While we foraged at the site,
So I smiled at her in greeting,
And her eyes beamed in delight!
‘I'm glad you're so much younger
Than that pesky Androvich,
He's a fusty Russian scholar,
Dull as water in a ditch! '
And she laughed, we laughed together
For I knew just what she meant,
Though her English wasn't perfect
She could hold an argument!
Through the days and weeks that followed
Digging dirt and sifting bones,
In that medieval churchyard
Full of grief and standing stones,
We worked side by side together
In the graves, and touching hands,
Me, the western anthropologist
And her, from eastern lands!
So the first kiss was much sweeter
Than of any I had known,
And we struggled in the darkness
Of my room, once left alone,
For her appetite, voracious,
Was demanding to the core,
As she wrapped herself around me
I would dread her whispered: ‘More! '
I was tired and not quite with it
When we came upon a sight
That had Iskra sitting, trembling,
She crossed herself in fright,
For the skeleton beneath us
Had a stake right through the heart,
So I knelt, and then unthinking
Grabbed the stake, pulled it apart!
She went white, jumped up crazy, screamed:
‘You don't know what you've done! '
As a cloud, way up above us
Moved, and blotted out the sun,
While I sat bemused and staring
At the iron stake I held,
It was rusted, red with ochre
Or with blood - I couldn't tell!
Then Androvich came over
And he grunted, and he moaned:
‘You're not to touch not anything
Until I've seen, ' he groaned.
‘Just give me…! ' and he snatched
The rusty stake from out my hand,
‘You westerners know nothing
Of the peoples in this land! '
That night I watched as Iskra
Wandered out along the beach,
I knew that I'd done something
That had put her out of reach,
She wouldn't listen to me
Or respond to what I said,
But then she turned toward me:
‘You have gone and raised the dead! ''
‘It's only superstition, ' I began,
But then she cried,
And went off to her room and
Locked the door, left me outside,
I heard the passage door creak open,
Then an awful shriek…
I found Professor Androvich
Next morning, on the beach!
His throat was torn and mangled,
Though there wasn't any blood,
His face pale white and shaken,
But one thing I understood,
The stake that he had taken, now
Was thrust - it made me wince!
But Iskra, she was nowhere,
And I haven't seen her since!
6 June 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Vampire Suicide
She walks through the graves,
Passing them one by one,
They all passed like they should, but she couldn’t, she remained times slave,
Even though she whished she could.
She walked by the people,
She read the stones like a book,
She read them all she knew all the people,
She watched as she began to look.
She looked at their names, their stones,
She studied their bitrthdays,
She knew them, she knew they were only bones,
But still she feels their pain, and what happened in their last days
She watched in sorrow, in hate,
She knew she should be one of them, she should be under ground,
She knew that she was supposed to suffer the same fate,
But now she wanders through eternity, her fate never to be found
She stopped at the end of the row one stone catches her eye,
She knew this person, this child,
She looks at the birth only eighteen years from when she died,
Her eyes fill with tears, and her still heart goes wild.
She knows she has eternity but that’s not what she wants,
She is the being of forever, the vampire,
“you don’t have to die” her mind taunts,
Her heart so cold her mind so wild, her soul filled with fire.
She drops to her knees the stake in her hand,
She lays the teddy bear one the s grave, her grave,
She lays unable to stand,
Now its not time but that she craves.
She takes the stake to her throat,
She pulls it across her marble skin,
The blood appears but not from her throat,
She feels eternity fade from her skin.
She lays feeling holding onto its’ thought,
She takes the stake away feeling the burn of the wood,
She lowers it to her heart she feels her skin get hot,
The burning begins just with a touch of the wood.
She lays in front of her grave with the flowers,
And she presses the knife deeper into herself,
She feels her body drain of all power,
She watches her eternity slip away, as she gets what she wants for herself.
The she never had now came to her side,
She held to it like a child to the mother breast,
She lost the grip of light and her grip on life began to slide,
She let it slip away, away with all the rest.
She watched as it all left her as she died above her grave,
She Walked with, she walked by its’ side
But now She is no longer times slave,
For this is the vampires’ suicide.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stake Stake Stake
Stake, stake, stake,
on the green felt fabric thrown, -
the croupiers, awake,
the players, weary, grown.
O well for the novice who
can cash in lucky play,
O ill for the gambler too,
rash not to end his stay
as the golden chips go on
back to stack within the till, -
but O for the touch of a vanish’d hand,
and woe for the crushing bill!
Stake, stake, stake,
while a camera all can see,
records both banks which break,
and counts accounts’ red plea!
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bridge
i stared across the bridge,
lantern held high...
searching the trees and
the shadows for a sign.
the surging river below
made my heart stamp its feet;
the wind blew, almost moaned,
the bridge groaned as it swayed.
taking off my boots,
i crossed barefooted and sure.
looking down, i could not see rocks,
but i knew they were there...
on the other side the damp dirt
felt good to my feet...
i followed the path down,
ever down... a wolf howled!
i came to a clearing,
made out the form of your hut...
dark and still, almost a womb.
i made my way to the door,
my trembling hand on the knob...
unlocked, the door opened.
staring around the darkened room,
nothing moved, only a lone candle
on the table beside the bed.
i could feel the stare
of your hungry eyes...
heard you whisper, 'come here! '
a thousand battles,
and journeys untold,
forgotten in the warmth
of your flesh...
new stars formed
in a limitless sky,
fell and shattered
as we loved!
the groan of the earth,
the moan of the wind,
the fury of storms unleashed.
holding back, holding back,
till there was no return...
dissolving into the fire
of your pulsing depths...
and all of life, finished!
with the morning light,
i found myself alone...
got up and dressed
with the ache and the taste...
as i left the hut,
i turned to see the owl...
set my chin, braced my mind,
and walked to face the coming snow!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonia and You and The Promise
Sonia closed
the door
behind her
and leaned
against it
you go out
with me?
she asked
her Polish/English
grated on your ears
look I can't
I have other
things to do
you said
running a hand
to smooth
Mr Dubbin's bed
she looked around
the room
and said
what if someone
come in
and see you
here with me?
what if they think
you been having me?
but it wouldn't
be true
you said
standing up
and moving away
from the bed
you know that
and I know it
but others
they do not
she said
her voice
crisp and cool
what if I undo
my uniform
and show my breasts
and say you did it?
you blushed
at the thought
look
just leave me be
you said
she stood firm
against the door
her hands
on the lapels
of her uniform
you could say yes
she said
you could take me
out to cinema
and then
it would be good
huh?
you watched
as she undid
one button
at a time
you watched
her fingers undo
each button
with deliberate
slowness
if I say yes
you'll stop this folly?
you asked
if you mean it
I will walk
from the door
and we can leave
and I do up
the buttons
before others see
she stared at you
her pale blue eyes
on you
her lips parted
just so
you could see
her small white teeth
where do you want to go?
you asked
cinema is good
she said
in the dark
we can kiss yes?
the buttons
were undone
to reveal
her compacted tits
ok ok
you said
the cinema
it is promise?
she said coolly
you make promise
and keep?
yes I make promise
and keep
you repeated
she began to do up
the buttons
her eyes
looking at you
and she smiled
and said
good boy
we have fun no?
you breathed out
the held in breath
sweat dampened
the back
of your shirt
and trouser legs
but if
you do not
show up
she said
brushing her uniform
I'll say you make love
to me on this
Mr Dubbin's bed
and I make bed
look all untidy
and they believe
me yes?
I'll be there
trust me
you said
just let me go
I need to get
the other beds
made before lunch
she moved aside
and opened the door
her perfume
filtering your nose
off you go
she said
and be good
you went off
to make the beds
and show up
that night
as she knew
you would.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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The Stoker
His eyes could pierce my very soul
His scowl could match my frown,
His hatred seemed to lurk beneath
The coal dust on his brow,
The stoker of the 'Antic Queen'
Was sallow, hollow-cheeked,
A voice that echoed, like the clang
Of echoes, from the deep.
He worked the vessel's engine room
Built up a head of steam,
He sprayed each layer of coal across
Like someone in a dream,
It glowed white-hot, he'd slam the door
And cast his shovel clear,
'A pox upon you, Derek Sloane, '
He'd call, when I was near.
I'd make believe I didn't hear,
Go through the bulkhead door
And make my way back up on deck,
I'd heard it all before.
His wife had tired of all his moods
Had eyed me through the crowd,
She'd left the stoker for me then,
The lissom Ann O'Dowd.
She'd always had a roving eye
I knew that from the start,
But reason has no part to play
When love attacks your heart.
We'd had a month of jollity
She'd wrecked my only bed,
When I went back to sea
The lovely Ann had filled my head.
We'd only been at sea a day
When I was sent below,
To see why steam in number two
Was building up so slow,
And then it was I saw O'Dowd,
I'd thought him still ashore,
Or coaling on another ship
En route to Singapore.
He came up to my cabin once
His shift was at an end,
And told me he had plans for Ann,
A coffin for a friend,
Then leered and sneered, 'I've said enough,
But you remember this,
Your Ann's as good as dead, old chum,
Before you leave this ship! '
I brooded on his words for days,
There wasn't any phone,
I couldn't use the radio
Without it being known,
I couldn't tell the Captain as
He wouldn't understand,
I had no proof of anything
That Tom O'Dowd had planned.
We hit the Bay of Biscay and
A fog came rolling in,
You couldn't see a dozen yards
Around the 'Antic Queen',
We cut our speed to seven knots
And edged on through the murk,
The foghorn sounded off and on
The sky was getting dark.
All that night we kept a watch
Until at early light,
A tanker nosing through the fog
Came steaming, out of sight,
She hit us just behind the bridge
And buckled plates without,
I rushed down to the engine room
To put the fires out.
O'Dowd was lying on the coal,
All covered in its dust,
The sea was pouring in too fast
To leave it all to trust,
I swung the heavy metal door
And sealed it from the tide,
O'Dowd jumped up and hit the door,
With terror in his eyes.
He screamed at me to open it,
I watched him through the port,
But regulations told me
To do nothing of the sort,
The ship was the important thing
And sometimes men must die,
But secretly, I smiled within
For Ann was safe and dry.
O'Dowd stood back and stared at me,
And realised his fate,
His wicked eyes stared through me
As the water lapped his feet;
I couldn't hear, but I could see
Him mouth two words of note,
He shouted 'parcel bomb', and drew
His hand across his throat.
The water rose, washed him away
I raced up to the deck,
The ship was listing badly
It would shortly be a wreck,
We got the lifeboats out by chance
Along the starboard side,
And drifted out as 'Antic Queen'
Turned turtle, rose and dived.
Three days it took to get on home
I couldn't contact Ann,
She wasn't answering the phone,
I took a cab, I ran,
I saw the note hand scribbled there
That lay, it seemed like hours,
To read that Ann decided she'd
Be true to all her vows.
She'd gone back to O'Dowd, she said,
Her husband, right or wrong,
I'd be all right, she said, I'd find
Some woman; just be strong.
I raced around to where O'Dowd
Had lived in Ratton Place,
The wall had blown out in the street,
Of Ann, there was no trace.
He'd left a bunch of flowers there,
A present tightly wrapped,
A note to tell his darling wife
That he would take her back;
She must have opened it, I think
A smile, a look serene,
O'Dowd had laughed the final laugh,
Down in the 'Antic Queen'.
20 March 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Restlessness
At the open door of the room I stand and look at the night,
Hold my hand to catch the raindrops, that slant into sight,
Arriving grey from the darkness above suddenly into the light of the room.
I will escape from the hollow room, the box of light,
And be out in the bewildering darkness, which is always fecund, which might
Mate my hungry soul with a germ of its womb.
I will go out to the night, as a man goes down to the shore
To draw his net through the surf’s thin line, at the dawn before
The sun warms the sea, little, lonely and sad, sifting the sobbing tide.
I will sift the surf that edges the night, with my net, the four
Strands of my eyes and my lips and my hands and my feet, sifting the store
Of flotsam until my soul is tired or satisfied.
I will catch in my eyes’ quick net
The faces of all the women as they go past,
Bend over them with my soul, to cherish the wet
Cheeks and wet hair a moment, saying: “Is it you?”
Looking earnestly under the dark umbrellas, held fast
Against the wind; and if, where the lamplight blew
Its rainy swill about us, she answered me
With a laugh and a merry wildness that it was she
Who was seeking me, and had found me at last to free
Me now from the stunting bonds of my chastity,
How glad I should be!
Moving along in the mysterious ebb of the night
Pass the men whose eyes are shut like anemones in a dark pool;
Why don’t they open with vision and speak to me, what have they in sight?
Why do I wander aimless among them, desirous fool?
I can always linger over the huddled books on the stalls,
Always gladden my amorous fingers with the touch of their leaves,
Always kneel in courtship to the shelves in the doorways, where falls
The shadow, always offer myself to one mistress, who always receives.
But oh, it is not enough, it is all no good.
There is something I want to feel in my running blood,
Something I want to touch; I must hold my face to the rain,
I must hold my face to the wind, and let it explain
Me its life as it hurries in secret.
I will trail my hands again through the drenched, cold leaves
Till my hands are full of the chillness and touch of leaves,
Till at length they induce me to sleep, and to forget.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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Death Of Peter Pan
The Death of Peter Pan
Peter Pan used to be black, he could sing and dance
and make jazz hands. He was so good that it made
sense to make him white, the world embraced him.
Everyone had a stake in him as he was transformed
into a pale ghost with a plastic nose, no one laughed
too much money at stake. Peter Pan liked children
too much for normal society to tolerate, but money
smoothed the way, but do not do it again.
Peter Pan was fragile doctors were always at hand to
give him injections that lifted his spirit and made him
feel good, and he needed more of it now that he was
middle aged, yet trying to look fourteen. His handlers
thought there was more money to wring out of his
tortured body. One, two, three, Peter couldn’t breath
collapsed in heap, and that’s a pity now that USA has
a black president and he could be himself again.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Every Attribute You Have Has Been Bought
When I met you in that darkened room,
I just didn't realise,
That all I'd feel was heartbreak and gloom,
For peering into those eyes.
You looked just like a beauty queen,
Standing seductively over the bar,
The most gorgeous woman I'd ever seen,
A glistening beautiful star.
I may have had too much to drink,
But that didn't spoil my view,
In fact it inspired me to think,
My desire was to be with you.
How could a guy be so lucky in love,
It must be my ability to disarm,
What I'm seeing is a gift from above,
Full of good looks and charm.
At that point I seen my future laid out,
We would never again be apart,
I knew it was love so I let out a shout,
You have taken over my heart.
How could a guy be so lucky in life,
Meeting someone as beautiful as you,
Instantly I knew that she'd be my wife,
That would be done without further ado.
She would make me a perfect partner,
The drink must have given me that thought,
In the darkness I told her, you're perfect,
A body like yours can't be bought
I asked her if she'd share some time with me,
She didn't even put up a fight,
When she came over and said, yes I'm free.
I knew then I'd done something right.
We both laughed and danced the night away,
I knew we were made for each other,
Very soon I knew I would say,
I'd love you to meet my Mother.
At the end of the night I asked her home,
Surprisingly my beauty said yes,
I went to the mens room for a wash and a comb,
What came next was anyone's guess.
We went back to her flat instead of mine,
At the time I just didn't ask why,
The way she looked had me on cloud nine,
Just the thought of it all made me cry.
She wouldn't allow me to turn on the light,
Of her reasons I just wasn't aware,
If I had I'd probably have died of fright,
But at the time I just didn't care.
We then made out in every room,
Exhausted we both fell asleep,
We knew next day our passion would resume,
That was a promise we'd keep.
You were to be my future partner in crime,
My beauty I'd finally caught,
The angels were ensuring I had a good time,
A body like yours can't be bought.
Next day off came the wig and eyelashes,
Her make up and then her false teeth,
The daylight exposed all her rashes,
All this while I'm lying underneath.
She told me she was going to powder her nose,
Doing my make up just never fails,
I thought what else can this lady expose,
As I sat on her pack of false nails.
The botox was wearing off at this point,
Her wrinkles were there to be seen,
I said to myself, I'm out of this joint,
In truth I'm no longer so keen.
At this point the implants fell out of her chest,
They were splattered all over the floor,
I thought my God that's what I caressed,
At that point I made for the door.
She asked me for one more lingering kiss,
Like the one I had given her last night,
I said sorry darling but I'll give that a miss,
In sobriety you've given me a fright.
This story is told straight from the heart,
Be happy with what God's given you,
Or very soon you'll be falling apart,
It's your surgeon you'll be wanting to sue.
I knew then I'd made a major gaffe,
It made me feel really distraught,
She said lets make out, I said you're having a laugh,
‘' Every Attribute You Have Has Been Bought‘'
Swan Song
Her hair was as black as a starling's tail,
Her cheeks as pale as a swan,
Her eyes, like two slim moonstones, glowed
And her mouth was the Holy Grail.
She'd played in the dirt of the village street
So long ago, so long...
She'd swum in the pools of the mountain stream,
But now, that girl had gone.
While I still rise with the early bird
To tend to my father's fields,
As the only son of an only son
I watched the woman leave.
She cried sweet tears as she said farewell
And vowed to come back, and soon,
But the village streets of a western town
Hold nothing for Ling Xiaodan.
The weeks went by, then the months and years
And I heard of her now and then,
She was dressed in expensive clothes, I heard,
She was driving a shiny car;
She was seen at the Beijing Opera
By a man who worked at the door,
'She glided by like a Queen, ' he said,
'As her dress trailed long on the floor.'
And her wai po, down in the village square
Would brag of her daughter's girl,
'She will snare some man with a million yuan, '
She said, 'not a farmer's son.
Go home to your fields and forget her now,
She's not for an also-ran! '
And laughed, as the tears sprang into my eyes
For the love of Ling Xiaodan.
She came back once to the village street
To her home, as ever we must,
But carefully held her dress up high
To avoid the rubbish and dust,
I stood at the side and she looked at me,
Then turned, looked quickly away,
For Ling Xiaodan and a farmer's son
Had nothing at all to say.
But I saw her once before she left,
Alone by the mountain stream,
Her eyes were sorrowful, in remorse,
Remembering how we'd been.
'I loved you once, as a child, ' she said
'But the world is harsh, and grey...
We do what our fathers want us to,
And my father sent me away.'
I sat by her then, and held her hand,
Stroking her neck, and hair,
And kissed the cheek, so pale and wan,
And I cried in a deep despair.
'You must get on with your life, ' she said,
'Get a wife and a baby son;
I leave tomorrow to see the man
That my father has met in town.'
I heard that she'd wed a businessman,
And cried in the quiet gloom,
My dream had died by the mountain stream,
On that day, in the afternoon.
She worked in a shop her husband owned,
So they said, but I never heard
'Til the body was brought back home again,
That the love of my life was dead.
It seemed that she'd sold her favours there
In the rear of a grimy store,
To any man with the change to spare
While her husband played Mah Jongg.
He'd gambled his fortune, and lost it all
While his wife kept the fool from jail
With what she earned with her hands and hair,
And a mouth like the Holy Grail.
But then, a man who was ill or mad
Put his grimy hands at her throat,
And squeezed the life from the darling neck
That I'd once both loved, and stroked.
They buried her up on the mountainside
By the stream, in sight of her home,
And from where I stand in the paddy fields
I can see her pale white stone.
She'd played in the dirt of the village street
So long ago, so long...
She'd swum in the pools of the mountain stream,
But now, that girl had gone.
I married a woman I barely knew
And she bore me a black-haired girl,
With eyes like two slim moonstones, and...
A mouth like the Holy Grail.
10 March 2006
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The House Of Dust: Part 02: 08: The Box With Silver Handles
Well,—it was two days after my husband died—
Two days! And the earth still raw above him.
And I was sweeping the carpet in their hall.
In number four—the room with the red wall-paper—
Some chorus girls and men were singing that song
'They'll soon be lighting candles
Round a box with silver handles'—and hearing them sing it
I started to cry. Just then he came along
And stopped on the stairs and turned and looked at me,
And took the cigar from his mouth and sort of smiled
And said, 'Say, what's the matter?' and then came down
Where I was leaning against the wall,
And touched my shoulder, and put his arm around me . . .
And I was so sad, thinking about it,—
Thinking that it was raining, and a cold night,
With Jim so unaccustomed to being dead,—
That I was happy to have him sympathize,
To feel his arm, and leaned against him and cried.
And before I knew it, he got me into a room
Where a table was set, and no one there,
And sat me down on a sofa, and held me close,
And talked to me, telling me not to cry,
That it was all right, he'd look after me,—
But not to cry, my eyes were getting red,
Which didn't make me pretty. And he was so nice,
That when he turned my face between his hands,
And looked at me, with those blue eyes of his,
And smiled, and leaned, and kissed me—
Somehow I couldn't tell him not to do it,
Somehow I didn't mind, I let him kiss me,
And closed my eyes! . . . Well, that was how it started.
For when my heart was eased with crying, and grief
Had passed and left me quiet, somehow it seemed
As if it wasn't honest to change my mind,
To send him away, or say I hadn't meant it—
And, anyway, it seemed so hard to explain!
And so we sat and talked, not talking much,
But meaning as much in silence as in words,
There in that empty room with palms about us,
That private dining-room . . . And as we sat there
I felt my future changing, day by day,
With unknown streets opening left and right,
New streets with farther lights, new taller houses,
Doors swinging into hallways filled with light,
Half-opened luminous windows, with white curtains
Streaming out in the night, and sudden music,—
And thinking of this, and through it half remembering
A quick and horrible death, my husband's eyes,
The broken-plastered walls, my boy asleep,—
It seemed as if my brain would break in two.
My voice began to tremble . . . and when I stood,
And told him I must go, and said good-night—
I couldn't see the end. How would it end?
Would he return to-morrow? Or would he not?
And did I want him to—or would I rather
Look for another job?—He took my shoulders
Between his hands, and looked down into my eyes,
And smiled, and said good-night. If he had kissed me,
That would have—well, I don't know; but he didn't . .
And so I went downstairs, then, half elated,
Hoping to close the door before that party
In number four should sing that song again—
'They'll soon be lighting candles round a box with silver handles'—
And sure enough, I did. I faced the darkness.
And my eyes were filled with tears. And I was happy.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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At Midnight
You knocked the door at midnight
I was astonished to see at the door very right
I couldn’t believe eyes when saw your pale face
There were dark patches below your base
I had openly told her to avail any help from me
She was given all the choices and made free
It was not forced any of the wishes from my side
I was expected to take her care and provide
I knew she would take proper decision
It will be perfect and near to the precision
Yet it would not be out of compulsion
As it posed no more burning question
My heart skipped a bit and missed for second
As if the life was taken away for fish when taken out from pond
It was matter of life and death
When everything was at stake
I saw her with complete dejection
She might have cried for long time out of rejection
I could see the worry lines on her face
It was in any way clear cut case
Normally it pushes person to extreme corner
Life hangs in balance and nearly to crash border
If good counsel prevails then the tragedy is avoided
Else the life is ended if no suitable help is provided
I consoled her for brave step
It was positive direction with in take
How many may be meeting with same treatment?
When thousands of deaths are reported for the same moments
I rushed to the gate and welcomed
She cried a lot but did not feel ashamed
It was well judged and calculated move
Only course was open now to prove
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Tangiers 1970
The Mediterranean Sea
caught the moonlight
as you wandered the beach
with Mame
she grabbed your hand
and kissed your cheek
isn't it out of this world?
she said stopping
and looking into your eyes
and breathing out
her peppermint breath
you smelt the sea salt
felt the slight breeze
coming across the sea
wouldn't you rather be
with one of the other guys
than be here with me?
you said
gazing at her fuzzy hair
her light blue eyes
oh piss the other guys
it's you I like
she said
brushing a hand
through your hair
pulling you in closer
to her small tight breasts
don't you like me?
she asked
I thought you fancied me
the way you kept staring at me
on the coach and in Tangiers
you heard the Berber drums
and voices from the camp base
coming on the wind
and wondered if the others
would guess she'd taken you
down the beach
for something romantic
or tumble in the sands
with all lips and hands
well?
she asked
standing there
in her flowered
two piece bathing cloth
sure I do
you muttered
sensing her hand
reaching down
your jeans
seeking an erection
a sign of interest
do you ever think
of those ancients
who may once
have stood
where we now stand?
you said
how they too
may have stood
beneath a sky
and stars
and moon like us?
she stood back and stared
and uttered coldly
no I haven't
and couldn't give a cuss
and off she went
up the beach
to the base camp
on smooth sands
and rough tufts of grass
and oh how she knew
to wiggle
her small tight ass.
poem by Terry Collett
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Like Her Mom Did
Tears run down her face
Her dad can tell it wasn’t a good day
She wanted to tell what was wrong
She wished that she could sing that song
Like her mom did
Her dad knew there was nothing he could say
She knew that she couldn’t ever pay
Her dad felt the heat in the room
He knew he needed to save her from doom
Like her mom did
She fled to her room and shut the door
Just as rain from her eyes began to pour
She turned on the radio to clam her down
She blasted it as high to the loudest sound
Like her mom did
As her dad knocked on the door
Trying not to bang or break the floor
All he wanted was to know what was wrong
All she wanted was to remember the song
That her mom sang
poem by Alexandra Anderson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pour The Wine
In the dim lit room
it was hard to see.
But I knew it well
and walked to the table
eventually.
The waiter approached,
a tray in his hand,
two long stemmed glasses
just as we planned.
We'd been meeting here
once every year.
We drank to what should have been,
although it was very clear
we could never leave
our other life.
I had a husband.
You had a wife.
Too many kids
whose hearts would break.
Too many problems
were at stake.
So this meeting
became our tryst.
Over and over,
we couldn't resist.
You came through the door.
I watched you approach.
You came with a gift,
a beautiful broach.
The wine was poured.
We smiled and talked,
raised our glasses
and then we walked
out into the night
to wait for next year,
hoping and praying
we both would be here.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Anne and the Boys's Bath Night
It was the boys' bath night
and you had bathed
and were drying yourself
with the white towel
they had given you
when the bathroom door flew open
and Anne stood there one-legged
in her pink flowered nightdress
perching on her crutches like a hawk
her eyes bright and dark
a smile lingering on her lips
well bugger me
she said
what a sight
for a girl's lovesick eyes
and she entered the bathroom
and pushed the door shut
behind her with her bottom
almost uncrutching herself
in the process
you pulled the towel
tight around you
and stared at her
it's the boys' bath night
you muttered
girls aren't allowed in
while boys bath
she moved over
to the mirror
and gazed at herself
you're right
she said
I'm not a boy
I'm a tight titted girl
and she laughed
and crutched herself
over towards you
making you flatten yourself
against the wall
gripping the towel with one hand
and holding her back
with the other
and she leaned down
and kiss the back of your hand
then looked you deep in the eyes
what have you got hidden
behind that towelling skirt then?
she said
and you gripped the towel tighter
with both hands
and she menacingly moved
one hand cautiously towards the towel
her armpits gripping
the crutches tightly
as she moved
you shouldn't be in here
you said
I'm not in there yet
she laughed and grabbed
the towel away with a force
that took her and the towel
toppling to the bathroom floor
where she lay
like an overturned beetle
you stood naked
your hands covering
what your father
called your toolbox
gazing down at her struggling
to get up
well don't just stand there
like a prize parrot
help pick me up
she said
and so with one hand covering
you knelt down to help lift her up
but then she pulled you
down beside her
and laughed
and her laughter echoed
around the walls
but then she paused
and put a hand
over her mouth
hearing Sister Bridget's
nearby footsteps
and noisy calls.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Roses On White Lace
I saw you in your wedding gown
The prettiest dress
I came into the room that night
And made such a mess
In my own way, I lovingly kiss the bride
With your ring in your hand
Your eyes and your mouth open wide
In my eyes
Blood drops look like roses on white lace
They won't wash away
In my mind they're roses on white lace
Straight from the heart
So dead upon the bed
You hurt me in the deepest way
I'm crippled inside
I took your evil skin away
It's all cut and dried
I saw you tonight and carefully took your hand
With some smears on my cheeks
I knew that you would understand
In my eyes
Blood drops look like roses on white lace
They won't wash away
In my mind they're roses on white lace
Straight from the heart
So dead upon the bed, still searching for your head
They're never gonna find your face
It's hidden away
I found a very special place where you used to play
In my own way, I lovingly kiss the bride
With your ring in your hand
Your eyes and your mouth open wide
In my eyes
Blood drops look like roses on white lace
They won't wash away
In my mind they're roses on white lace
Straight from the heart
Blood drops look like roses on white lace
Crimson and sweet, stained on the sheet
Roses on white lace, pretty in red, dripping and wet
Roses on white lace, spilled on the walls, dark in the hall
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Young Lieutenant
The young lieutenant's face was grey.
As came the day.
The watchers saw it lifting white
And ghostlike from the pool of night.
His eyes were wide and strangely lit.
Each thought in that unhallowed pit:
“I, too, may seem like one who dies
With wide, set eyes.”
He stood so still we thought it death,
For through the breath
Of reeking shell we came, and fire,
To hell, unlit, of blood and mire.
Tianced in a chill delirium
We wondered, though our lips were dumb
What precious thing his fingers pressed
Against his breast.
His left hand clutched so lovingly
What none might see.
All bloodless were his lips beneath
The straight, white, rigid clip of teeth.
His eyes turned to the distance dim;
Our sleepless eyes were all on him.
He stirred; we aped a phantom cheer.
The hour was here!
The young lieutenant blew his call.
“God keep us all!”
He whispered softly. Out he led;
And over the vale of twisted dead,
Close holding that dear thing, he went.
On through the storm we followed, bent
To pelt of iron and the rain
Of flame and pain.
His wan face like a lodestar glowed
Down that black road,
And deep among the torn and slain
We drove, and twenty times again
He squared us to the charging hordes.
His word was like a hundred swords.
And still a hand the treasure pressed
Against his breast.
Our gain we held. Up flamed the sun.
“The ridge is won,”
He calmly said, and, with a sigh,
“Thank God, a man is free to die!”
He smiled at this, and so he passed.
His secret prize we knew at last,
For through his hand the jewel's red,
Fierce lustre bled.
poem by Edward George Dyson
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