Thy Will Be Done!
I always thought that Jean La Mare was strange,
Gave me the creeps,
With lank, uncared for russet hair
And eyes with depths and deeps,
She hung her head when walking by
Wore dresses to her shins,
She had no friends at school, at lunch
Sat by the rubbish bins.
Her father was the picture of a
Martinet of old,
Bolt upright, at attention he
Would rant at her, and scold.
An Army Colonel, long retired
His wife dead in the ground,
His thoughts for bringing daughters up
Were ancient, and profound.
She dared not answer back, nor baulk
At anything he said,
He kept her close, so close we thought
That she slept in his bed.
We never saw her out of school
She cooked and cleaned and swept,
When asked if she'd be at the Ball,
She turned away, and wept.
Time passed, and we had left the school,
Got on with living life,
I met someone, and pretty soon
Had caught myself a wife,
But my old friend from schooldays
Richard Carson, lived alone,
He said he'd not met anyone
Who thrilled him to the bone.
We'd all turned just on thirty when
He dropped the big surprise,
He said that he'd asked Jean La Mare!
I answered, 'Is that wise? '
It seems the Martinet had died,
Was safely in his box,
So Jean was free, and so was he
To tie the wedding knots.
I saw her at the wedding there,
The first time then for years,
I saw her laugh for once, she laughed
So much, it came to tears.
They seemed so happy in that church,
Her burden dead and gone,
But Richard told me later of
Her curse - 'Thy Will Be Done! '
For every evening of her life
She'd get down on her knees,
Before a varnished wooden box
And pray that she had pleased!
The box stood on the mantelpiece
And Richard dared not ask
Just what was in that box; he thought
It was her father's ash!
She'd pray and ask for guidance, then
She'd listen in the gloom,
He never heard a murmur but, she did,
Before that tomb!
She'd answer statements no-one made,
Would wail, then plead, implore,
While Richard stayed away and hid,
Stood listening by the door!
He asked her what her father said
When he'd approached him once,
The old man turned and marched away,
He'd felt quite like a dunce!
He'd asked if he could take her out,
The Colonel stood and glared:
'If you should even speak to her, young man,
I'll see you dead! '
But Jean had blushed and looked away,
And wouldn't answer then,
She muttered: 'He just didn't want me
Mixing with young men! '
But then she started acting strange,
Would slyly look away,
Whenever he came in the room
As she was going to pray.
He came to see me, looking ill,
He said he was unwell,
That Jean was getting stranger by the day
His life was hell!
She'd served him up a meal that made
Him sick, perspire and weak,
I told him he should get away...
He found it hard to speak!
I didn't want to interfere
But things were looking grim,
I went around to see them, well, not her,
I cared for him.
She flashed a look of hate at me,
Unbridled, undisguised,
She looked like some fanatic with
Grey analytic eyes.
She left us then to talk, and I
Saw on the mantelpiece,
The box that he'd described to me,
I said, 'Just call the Police! '
I'd flipped the clasp, the front swung down
It opened up to dread,
For staring at us both, we saw
His eyeless, staring head!
Then Jean came back, let out a scream,
Attacked me with a knife,
I caught her wrist, said: 'Richard,
Just restrain your crazy wife! '
She fell down on her knees and cried:
'I tried to be a son! '
Then listened, as if hearing it,
Then said, 'Thy will be done! '
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Pearls of Verna Boone
I'd been alone for a year or so
Since Norma Jean had died,
I stayed in the house I'd bought for her
At the end of River Drive,
I'd felt her death as a fatal blow,
A crippling twist of fate,
For Norma Jean was my one true love,
Though I'd met her a little late!
I was past my prime when our eyes had met,
And she'd looked so young to me,
Her eyes had sparkled like diamonds set
As scarabs in sand and sea,
She saw the desert behind my eyes,
The emptiness in my life,
I stumbled over the words, but she
Said 'Yes! ' - She would be my wife!
I didn't know that she carried then
The seeds of a painful death,
Her face was flushed at the altar stone
And she seemed so short of breath,
I thought it merely a passing faint
That excitement had brought on,
As we stood in front of the Minister,
And joined our lives as one.
But then at home, she fell apart,
Collapsed on the kitchen floor,
I saw her lying, and coughing blood
Like I'd never seen before,
The doctor called, and he shook his head
As he left her there in the bed,
'I'm very sorry, ' the doctor sighed,
'But your lovely wife is dead! '
I cried and raged, and swore at fate
I smashed each wedding gift,
I wouldn't go to the funeral
But stayed at home and wept.
I cursed the heavens and thought that hell
Could never have been as bad
As a love that I'd waited a lifetime for,
A love that I'd never had!
The house next door was a rental place,
Stood empty for months that year,
But then a couple had moved on in,
I didn't see him, just her.
I thought that he was a traveller,
Was constantly on the road,
He came at night, and he left at dawn
In a battered and ancient Ford.
I had no reason to talk to them,
I sat at home with my grief,
I wandered out in the garden then
At one with each falling leaf,
But then one day, I heard her there
The other side of the fence,
Breaking her heart, as crying there
She sobbed with vehemence.
After a week of this, I climbed
The fence, and spoke to her,
'Why do you sigh, why do you cry? '
But she cried then all the more.
I walked around and sat with her
Quite late in the afternoon,
She smiled, and dried her eyes, and said,
'My name is Verna Boone! '
She said she'd only been married
Just a year this coming Spring,
But now that she knew the man he was,
Regretted everything,
He'd lost her money, just gambled it,
Had spent it on other girls,
And now they were left with nothing, he
Just wanted her mother's pearls!
'They're all I have to remember her, '
She sobbed, like a frightened child,
'They're worth a lot, but they're more to me, '
She looked at me, and smiled.
She took me inside and pulled them out
Three strings, they were very fine,
'He said that he's going to pawn them! '
Then she put her small hand in mine.
I was sad, alone and vulnerable,
I looked at her lovely curls,
She smiled at me, and she asked me then
If I'd care for her mother's pearls?
'I'll say they're lost, misplaced, I'll say,
He'll rant and rage, and more,
But he won't be able to pawn them now...'
Then she walked me to the door.
I took her home, and I placed the pearls
With the gems my wife had once:
'They'll be all right in the downstairs safe.'
It was then that she saw the gun.
She looked afraid, but she picked it up
And weighed it there in her hand,
I took it gently and locked it up
With the rest of my contraband.
'She must have watched as I spun the dial,
I know - I was such a fool! '
The sergeant sat and he stared at me,
And his stare was distant, cool.
He didn't believe a word I said
I could see that now, I'm done!
They put me back in a cell to wait
To be charged with Murder One!
She told them I had come over when
Her husband came home one night,
Waving a gun and ranting, then
Her husband put up a fight!
I'd shot him once through the head, she said,
Then taken her on the bed,
Stolen a fine pearl necklace,
Then beaten and left her for dead!
They found the gun on the floor, they said,
I knew that the gun was mine,
They found the pearls in my safe, they said,
It was only a question of time.
She sat at the back of the court while I
Was stood in the prisoner's dock,
And I noticed she wore her mother's pearls
With a nice new evening frock.
10 August 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Long Lost Daughter
This poem was inspired by a storyline on the TV show 'Casualty', when Colette's long lost daughter found her.
My Mum came to see me at work,
Asking to speak to me urgently.
She had recieved a phone call
From my long lost daughter, Natalie.
Then one day, Natalie turned up at work.
I was taken by surprise:
She was a beautiful young lady now,
And was stood before my very eyes.
I asked my boss for an hour's break.
Natalie and I went for a walk.
We had a lot of catching up to do,
And had a good heart to heart talk.
She asked why I had her adopted
And I had to tell her the truth.
My Mum had told me if I kept her,
I was no longer welcome under her roof.
I was fifteen at the time.
I was alone and very afraid.
Soon after I had her, she was whisked away,
And so it was at home I stayed.
She asked about her father,
But he left me years ago.
When he discovered I was pregnant,
He just didn't want to know.
Sixteen years had passed
Since I gave my little girl away,
But eventhough life carried on,
I thought about her every day.
Only those close to me knew of her existence.
I'd kept her a secret all that time,
But now the time had finally arrived,
To tell the world, Natalie was mine!
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dance Little Jean
Played a wedding for the money and I wish I could have told the bride and groom
Just what I think of marriage, whats in store after the honeymoon.
I was rumbling through the verses about how men and women ought to live apart,
How a promise never made could not be broken and would never break a heart.
Suddenly from out of nowhere this little girl came spinning across the floor
Her crinolines were billowing beneath the skirt of calico she wore.
As her joy fell on the honored guests each one of them was drawn into her dream
And they laughed and stamped and clapped their hands and hollered at her, dance little jean!
They said:
Dance little jean, this day is for you,
Two people that you love stood up to say i do.
Dance little jean, the prayer that you had was answered today-
Your mommas marrying your dad.
Well this cynics heart just melted as I figured what this get together meant
And how it ended years of tears and sad confusions that the little girl had spent.
They told the band to pack it up about the time the couple cut the cake
But we stayed and we played all night long for love and laughs and little jeanies sake
We played:
Dance little jean, this day is for you,
Two people that you love stood up to say i do.
Dance little jean, the prayer that you had was answered today-
Your mommas marrying your dad.
We sang:
Dance little jean, this day is for you,
Two people that you love stood up to say i do.
Dance little jean, the prayer that you had was answered today-
Your mommas marrying your dad.
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rednecks
It was down in Jackson County
Back in 1959,
I was sitting in a parking lot
And necking Peggy Jean,
We'd been breathing hot and heavy,
'Til we misted up the windshield,
Then footsteps started walking round
My Daddy's Oldsmobile.
Peggy buttoned up her top, while I
Sat bolt upright, and listened,
Then the door, it sprang wide open
And a hand came reaching in,
Then it grabbed me by the collar,
Dragged me out, although I hollered,
And this guy began to kick me
Like he wants to do me in!
It was dark, but there was moonlight, and
I saw he wore a jersey with
Those hoops of red and white just like
The college football team,
He was big and mean and dopey,
And he tried to grab and choke me
Then he hit me and he bit me, said:
'You like my Peggy Jean? '
She screamed and ran right over
Slapped his face, and yelled: 'You Doofer!
I ain't never been your gal and you
Ain't never been my man! '
So he stopped and stared right at her
Looking mad, like some Mad Hatter,
Then he mumbled that his Peggy Jean:
'She must have cut and ran! '
I took my wounded shoulder to the
Hospital in Boulder, where
They cleaned it, disinfected it,
Then sent me straight back home.
But my head was fairly spinnin'
And my Peggy Jean was grinnin'
'Cos she thought it cute I'd fight for her -
I drove back home alone.
My shoulder wouldn't fix, it
Wept and burned, I scratched, it itched,
And for some days my joints were stiff
As if he'd given me some spore,
But my eyes were twice as bright, I saw
Right through the dark at night,
And I could run, right out of sight
Like I could never run before!
A month went slowly by, as I
Thought up some alibi for why
I hadn't seen my Peggy Jean,
Or phoned and left a note.
But I didn't want to see her, so
She joined the Cheerleaders, then
Went necking with this football guy
To try and get my goat.
But then one day I saw her, in a
Dress, right off the shoulder
And she had a big red love bite
On her neck - No argument!
So I said: 'Them dang mosquito's
Getting big as hot Darito's,
Why, I guess you're now a Redneck, '
And she knew just what I meant.
I lay low about a month, just
Messed around and played a hunch,
Got my Jerry Lee collection up
And Buddy Holly too,
Then I went off to the Prom to see
Just what was going on;
There were rednecks all around me
Like some great big Redneck zoo!
They were multiplying - Heck!
Great big bites on every neck,
And their eyes had gone all yeller
And their teeth were getting long,
And so over grits and chitlins
I asked Grandpaw, who was whittling,
'Have you ever made a silver bullet, Gramps? '
He said: 'You're wrong! '
(I had thought: 'He's getting old,
But he really should be told...')
But he didn't need no telling of
The Rednecks in the town,
He had seen it all before,
Long before the Second War,
And he looked at me, and says:
'Those pesky Vamps are going down! '
'What you need are wooden stakes,
Ash or aspen's what it takes,
Though I thought we'd killed 'em all in
Jackson County's last big wake,
When your father was a lad,
They were here, and things were bad,
But we staked them 'til they filled
The cemetery by the lake
So I told him what I'd seen,
All the Rednecks, where I'd been,
And we took to walking through the woods
To spy on where they're at,
But the moon above was bright,
In its beam I caught a sight
Of my Gramps, as he turned hairy
Right there, underneath his hat.
He dropped down on all his fours
While I felt my face and jaws,
And I suddenly had paws,
Right beneath the haloed moon,
I was soon, to my surprise
Just a wolf, in some disguise,
So we loped downtown together,
Started howlin' out of tune.
'I knew when you were bit
This would be the way of it,
I knew you'd end up one thing or
Another, so it's cool!
But these vampires, they need culling
Cause they're always multiplying, and they
Never learn -
In Jackson County...
Werewolves Rule! '
17 September 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dance Little Jean
I played a wedding for the money,
And I wished that I could tell the bride and groom
Just what I thought of marriage
And whats in store after their honeymoon.
And I was grumblin to the dancers
bout how men and women ought to live apart
And how a promise never made can not be broken
And can never break your heart
When suddenly from out of nowhere,
A little girl came dancing cross the floor,
And all her crinolines were billowing
Beneath the skirt of calico that she wore.
Oh what a joy fell on the honored guests
As each of them was drawn inside her dream,
And they laughed and clapped and stomped their feet
And hollered at her dance little jean
Dance, little jean, this day is for you,
Two people you love, stood up and said I do
Dance little jean, the prayer that you had
Was answered today
Your mamas marrying your dad
Well, my cynical heart just melted
cause I knew what this get together meant
How it ended year of tears and sad confusion
That the little girl had spent.
Well they told the band to pack it up
About the time the couple cut the cake,
But we played as long as they stayed
For love and laughs and little jeanies sake.
Dance, little jean, this day is for you,
Two people you love, stood up and said I do
Dance little jean, the prayer that you had
Was answered today
Your mamas marrying your dad
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ballad
Jean did her best
Denny worked hard
And so together made him a star
And he loved her
Money changed hands
Denny must start
Tallying up things close to his heart
And he loved her so
But we don't always know what to say
When they ask you, what do you say?
No one can tell what's in a heart
People just drift apart
Jean lost her head
Denny got mad
"how, jean," he said, "can things be so bad
Right before my eyes"
Jean told a lie, denny deceived
Jean packed her bags to leave
"jean, if you must go
Before you do
Tell me you know i did it for you
And i loved you so.
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One-Sided Conversation
She sat, head bent,
In her old, grey chair,
The blinds were pulled and drawn,
The shadows caught
In the gathering gloom,
But she moved not at all;
Her husband, stood by the old oak door
He'd cleared his throat to speak,
'You wanted to see me, then, ' he said,
A pallor upon his cheek.
She knew, he thought,
She knew full well
His cheating, shiftless ways,
He'd married her more for her money
Than for her wit, her charm or grace.
She'd warned him once
She'd warned him twice,
She'd said that he made her sick,
Now he was the one who was feeling ill
As she still refused to speak.
'I 'spect you want
Me gone, ' he said,
And waited for some response,
She sat, head bent in her favourite chair
As he stood there, like a dunce.
'I need some money,
A thousand pounds,
Will get me out of a fix.'
The way she sat, and stared at the floor
Meant: 'No, I'll give you nix.'
He mopped his forehead
With trembling hands,
The sharks were closing in,
If she didn't come to his rescue, well,
He'd seen what they'd do to him…
'I beg you, think
Of your own good name, '
But she wasn't listening then,
Her face was grim, she stared at the floor,
With nothing left for him.
He went to a drawer
And took a gun,
Then held it up to his head,
'I'd never have thought you could be so cruel
To the man who shares your bed.'
The air grew chill
In the silent room
As he let out a plaintive cry,
The shot rang out, but she didn't move
As he fell to the floor, and died.
The doctor came,
And the police, of course,
But the wife still sat and stared,
The husband lay on the bloodstained rug
As if she'd never cared.
'It's very odd, '
Said the sergeant then,
But the Doctor suppressed a laugh,
'He's only been dead for an hour, ' he said,
'She's been dead for an hour and a half.'
9 April 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Drunken Peace Within
he gave up his faith in the LORD above
turned his back on the ones he loved.
he felt that the walls were closing in on him
then turned to a bottle of gin.
he always drank himself into a stupor
and he fell down and cut his eyes.
the doctors said he may go blind.
now at a point that he could not see
he turned to his family.
they told him that he allowed himself
to get to this point in life
turned his back on GOD, family, wife.
now if he really needed help
then to pray to the LORD above
for his guidance and his love.
he fell to his knees alongside his bed
and started to pray
and asked the LORD to change his way.
as he knelt there in prayer
his eyes started to clear.
he saw a vision standing there
dressed completly in white
to him it was the most beautiful sight.
he saw hands that reached out to him
and touched his head
as he knelt alongside his bed.
'it said' you have been put through trial and error
and from this day forward, your life will be better.
believe in GOD, as you had done before
and peace and happiness will find you forever more.
and as the vision disappeared
he knew his life he would no longer fear.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Turnaboout
As large as life she stood there
Kissed my cheek and called my old nickname
And though several years had passed
Both of us still looked quite the same
I said hi relaxed a bit
Then asked her how she'd been all these years
She told me she was feeling fine
Came to see a friend who lived up here
Told me she had finished school
And then went on to college for a year
I asked if she had married
Slowly down her cheek there came a tear
She said just an itchy eye
It must be the weather way up here
Told her I can't stand the cold
It freezes me and I can't feel my ears
We talked a bit about Mobile
And thought about how it has never changed
I told her I was a comin' home
To spend some time and hoped it wouldn't rain
She asked if she could see me then
And we could spend some time now and then
Because I lived so far away
Was still no chance why we could not be friends
I drove her to the waiting plane
Watched that big jet streaking through the sky
Thought about the sad young girl
And the time that I just saw her cry
That flame must still be burning bright
I think I'll catch a later flight today
It's time for me to go on home
And spend a day or two down by the bay
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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The Creation of the Moon
The man cut his throat and left his head there.
The others went to get it.
When they got there they put the head in a sack.
Farther on the head fell out onto the ground.
They put the head back in the sack.
Farther on the head fell out again.
Around the first sack they put a second one that
was thicker.
But the head fell out just the same.
It should be explained that they were taking the head
to show to the others.
They did not put the head back in the sack.
They left it in the middle of the road.
They went away.
They crossed the river.
But the head followed them.
They climbed up a tree full of fruit
to see whether it would go past.
The head stopped at the foot of the tree
and asked them for some fruit.
So the men shook the tree.
The head went to get the fruit.
Then it asked for some more.
So the men shook the tree
so that the fruit fell into the water.
The head said it couldn't get the fruit from there.
So the men threw the fruit a long way
to make the head go a long way to get it so they could go.
While the head was getting the fruit
the men got down from the tree and went on.
The head came back and looked at the tree
and didn't see anybody
so went on rolling down the road.
The men had stopped to wait
to see whether the head would follow them.
They saw the head come rolling.
They ran.
They got to their hut they told the others that the head
was rolling after them and to shut the door.
All the huts were closed tight.
When it got there the head commanded them to open the doors.
The owners would not open them because they were afraid.
So the head started to think what it would turn into.
If it turned into water they would drink it.
If it turned into earth they would walk on it.
If it turned into a house they would live in it.
If it turned into a steer they would kill it and eat it.
If it turned into a cow they would milk it.
If it turned into a bean they would cook it.
If it turned into the sun
When men were cold it would heat them.
If it turned into rain the grass would grow and the
animals would crop it.
So it thought, and it said, "I will turn into the moon."
It called, "Open the doors, I want to get my things."
They would not open them.
The head cried. It called out, "At least give me
my two balls of twine."
They threw out the two balls of twine through a hole.
It took them and threw them into the sky.
It asked them to throw it a little stick too
to roll the thread around so it could climb up.
Then it said, "I can climb, I am going to the sky."
It started to climb.
The men opened the doors right away.
The head went on climbing.
The men shouted, "You going to the sky, head?"
It didn't answer.
As soon as it got to the Sun
it turned into the Moon.
Toward evening the Moon was white, it was beautiful.
And the men were surprised
to see that the head had turned into the Moon.
The Confession
‘I'm ill, I'm ill, ' said Rockingham,
‘I'm ill, ' then took to his bed,
He tossed and turned in his fever there
As the visions danced in his head.
He couldn't tell if the world outside
Was real, or a crazy dream,
But muttered into the night, instead
Of some of the things he'd seen.
His wife, Marie, was a surly wench
She said, ‘I'll not be a nurse!
I'll not be tied to a sick man's bed
And left the room, with a curse.
She called the maid and she told her: ‘Sit!
And mop at the old man's brow,
I'll be abroad in the coach and six,
If he dies, go milk the cow! '
The fever turned to delerium
As he tossed and turned all night,
The doctor came, and he feared for him
As he lay in the grey twilight,
He used up seventeen leeches as
He blooded him, full sore,
But Rockingham was a haunted man
From a time of long before.
From time to time, he would sit up straight
And stare, with an awful dread,
As the ghost of Harold Murchison
Would hover, over his bed.
‘Don't come for me, it was my Marie
That you wanted - She was a witch!
If only you'd taken her off from me,
She's such a God-awful bitch! '
He fell back onto the pillow, cried
At the mess he'd made of his life,
And the worst mistake he'd ever made
Was to make Marie his wife,
She'd married him for the Castle gate
And the pride of a titled name,
But her love had stayed with Murchison
And she saw him, just the same.
At midnight they had hurried the priest
And the constable came too,
‘I think he'll be dead by morning, ' said
The doc: ‘Not much I can do! '
But Rockingham tossed as one quite lost
While the ghost lay in his mind,
‘It's true, it's true! What was I to do?
I poisoned her Harry's wine! '
He fell back onto the pillow, slept
In the peace of the almost dead,
For Murchison had faded away
At the words that he'd just said,
He woke that morn when a thunderstorm
Flash-flooded over the floor,
His eyes were bright from his endless night,
But the hangman stood at the door!
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stories Of Hope Series #1 living in poverty-the trapper and family
Born high in the mountains of Tennessee
With no running water, or electricity.
Living in rags that her father found in the woods
Was her only salvation, her only goods.
They put her in pampers that they had found
Dirty and filthy and pulled from the ground.
A rock stove and firewood
They would eat when they could.
He did fishing and trapping just to survive.
The closest neighbor was twenty miles away
By the time he walked there he would have to stay.
The neighbor would take all that he trapped
In return give him food, clothing, ammunition and fat.
The neighbor then told him:
This is no way to raise a child.
You’ve been in the mountains quite a while.
Things have changed drastically
In school is where this child should be.
This child must learn how to read and write
What you’re doing to her, just isn’t right.
He packed up his knapsack and up the mountain he fled
Putting her with other children, was something he did dread.
He finally got home where his wife and child awaited
He looked at them and then hesitated.
With gleams in their eyes of the goodies he brought.
The child looked in the bag for a doll that she sought.
Not finding the doll in the bag, she turned and walked
From the room looking so sad
She went outside deep in the woods
her head hung down and there she stood.
The tears started to form in her eyes
And then she did cry.
Her father saw this and his heart broke in two
Now he knew what he had to do.
The following morning he went back down the mountain again
To speak to his neighbor, his only friend.
He asked his friend what should I do
My daughter is suffering and feeling blue.
I don’t have the money to buy her things, or send her to school
And living in the mountains is not the right tool.
He said: you are a natural born mountain man
And for you I do have a plan.
How would you like to teach others how to survive
And into your mountains they would climb.
You can teach them how to hunt and fish
This is on a city dwellers wish list.
You will get paid for what you love to do
And to your heart you will be true.
Looking at his family and the way they lived
An education for his child he had to give.
His friend set up flyers and posted them all over town
And on the internet this mountain man was found.
He brought his child down from the mountain top
And until she had an education he would not stop.
She stayed with this neighbor and friend
And saw all that she had missed
She was in heaven, she was in bliss.
Her father now made enough to continue her education
And to learn those golden rules, now he knew she had the tools.
She grew up with hope in their heart
And her father and neighbor gave her the start.
Now don’t ever think that there is nothing
That you can’t do.
With hope in your heart, you can follow thru.
HOPE IS THE KEY TO SET OURSELVES FREE.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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Dead Father
when your fathers dead
your heart fills with dread
my father died in the year 2005
when he was alive my life was filled with pride
somtimes i just wish i could go back in time
go back and save his life
when i heard the news that he was gone
all i could say is no hes too young
he was 39 years old
he still had about 60 more to go
my heart bleeds knowing were apart
but at least i know hes still in my heart
my heart filled with dread
when i found out my father was dead
poem by Jean Pullman
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The Dying Gamblers Story
In a little secret Gambling house in a city known for fame
There sits a man of tender years his head bowed down in shame
That young man told a story as sad as can be
And if you will but listen this is what he said to me.
A year ago I had a wife but she was called one day
And as she lay so near to death she pressed my hand to say
I'm giving you my wedding ring to cherish all your life
And with these words the reaper called away my loving wife.
Soon I started gambling til I never had a thing
And on a hand I thought would win I bet my dead wife's ring
I drew the card and looked at it, Oh God I cried aloud
I've lost my dead wife's wedding ring to this drunken jeering around.
When he had finished speaking he bowed his head and sighed
And we who heard his story knew that he had died
But that dying gamblers story didn't mean a thing
Too bad they said, dealt the cards, and bet his dear wife's ring.
poem by Kenneth T. Schofield
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Turnabout
By: jimmy buffett
1970
As large as life she stood there
Kissed my cheek and called my old nickname
And though several years had passed
Both of us still looked quite the same
I said hi relaxed a bit
Then asked her how shed been all these years
She told me she was feeling fine
Came to see a friend who lived up here
Told me she had finished school
And then went on to college for a year
I asked if she had married
Slowly down her cheek there came a tear
She said just an itchy eye
It must be the weather way up here
Told her I cant stand the cold
It freezes me and I cant feel my ears
We talked a bit about mobile
And thought about how it has never changed
I told her I was a comin home
To spend some time and hoped it wouldnt rain
She asked if she could see me then
And we could spend some time now and then
Because I lived so far away
Was still no chance why we could not be friends
I drove her to the waiting plane
Watched that big jet streaking through the sky
Thought about the sad young girl
And the time that I just saw her cry
That flame must still be burning bright
I think Ill catch a later flight today
Its time for me to go on home
And spend a day or two down by the bay
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Up In The Attic
I took a room in a boarding house
In a seedy part of town,
I hadn't worked for a month or so
And was feeling rather down,
My girl had left with another guy
Who promised her thrills and rings,
While I could offer her take-away
Among other boring things.
I really felt I was down and out,
The insurance wasn't through,
I'd caught my arm in a roller, and
You know what that can do.
With plaster up to my elbow, I
Could get no sort of work,
So had to exist on the government,
And I felt like a prime jerk.
I'd always been independent
So my pride had taken a hit,
The landlord hurried me out
As soon as the rent was behind a bit,
The boarding house, it was ancient,
A Victorian red brick,
A mansion once, but converted
Into rooms, for the broke, and sick.
I sank in a deep depression,
I could barely go out the door,
Fish and chips was the staple meal
That I bought from the corner store,
I'd slink back in to my tiny room
And eat from the daily news,
The only things of the world outside
That I learned, were the column views.
I'd thought Denise was my passion,
My charm in a mundane life,
I'd thought she'd always be there for me
And asked her to be my wife,
But that was before the accident,
She'd hummed and hah'd, ‘We'll see! '
But set her star on the shiny car
Of the guy who came after me.
I lay and thought of her often,
I thought she was most unkind,
And tried to maintain my anger, but
Could not get her out of my mind.
What made it worse, as a sort of curse
Were the sounds from up above,
The guy, up there in the attic,
Laughing, joking and making love!
The girls tripped up in the evening,
Up the stairs, right past my room,
I heard them giggle and whispering
As I lay there, deep in gloom.
I wondered about the attraction,
Was he rich, this guy, or what?
So why was he there in a boarding house
In an attic - what had he got?
The music came through the ceiling,
I could hear them dancing there,
They kept me awake to the early hours
As I slumped in an old armchair,
They'd come in pairs, or one at a time
And they'd leave, but just on dawn,
After I'd heard the bedsprings creak
And a low, but sultry moan!
He and the landlord were thick as thieves
But I never caught sight of him,
I asked him once, ‘Who's the guy up there?
It sounds like he's running a gym! '
‘Now don't you bother your head, my lad,
He's a friend, and an honoured guest,
He don't take kindly to strangers, so
Just keep to yourself, it's best! '
I started leaving an open door
So I'd see the girls who came,
Dressed to kill in their mini-skirts
They all looked much the same,
One evening, one came very late
When I'd thought I'd have some peace,
She stopped by the door and looked at me,
And I blurted out, ‘Denise! '
She caught her breath and she looked at me
Then hurried on up the stair,
Determined she wouldn't talk to me
As I sat in a mute despair,
I thought at first to follow her
But I slammed the door, said ‘No!
I'm not going to play her silly games, '
But listened from down below.
The music played and I heard her voice,
Her laugh, but soft and sweet,
She certainly had no thought for me
As I slumped there, in defeat.
I heard the bedsprings creak at last
And I knew it was over then,
But she never came down the stairs that night
And I woke, just after ten.
I wanted to turn the light on, but
It seemed to have blown the globe,
I climbed on a chair to change it, and
It flashed, just like a strobe,
Something was dripping along my arm
Sticky, the colour of mud,
I jumped off the chair, and opened the door
To the hallway, it was blood!
I ran up the stairs, two at a time
And I kicked in the attic door,
Denise was naked, such as she was,
She lay, spread out on the floor,
I took out the guy with a single hit
And I looked at the mantelpiece,
For there was a head on a metal spit,
And I cried out, ‘No! - Denise! '
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jack Ketch
I was only sixteen, when I was seduced
By a woman of thirty-three,
The Governor's wife at the Prisoner's Ball
And she offered to dance with me,
I blushed, I stammered, and hung my head
But she moved with a fluid grace,
She took my hand for the Colonel's Waltz,
And squeezed in a warm embrace.
I did the odd job at the prison then,
Just sweeping and cleaning the yard,
Carrying messages round each wing
But nothing you'd call too hard,
I'd sometimes go to the Governor's House
To help with the garden there,
And I'd see his wife, sweet Caroline,
As she sunned herself in a chair.
She would lie in that part of the garden
Shaded cool by an apple tree,
Reading a book in her cozy nook
Taking little account of me,
Or so I thought, 'til the day she sought
Me out at the Prisoner's Ball,
When she whispered things in my ear that night
And pinned me close to the wall.
I was just a boy, and she wanted a toy to
Play with when she was bored,
She egged me on in the garden shade
While I just felt overawed,
Then I heard that she was expecting, and
She cut me out of her life,
She played that part so wonderfully well,
The dutiful Governor's wife.
A boy was born in the early spring
And they christened him Billy Cole,
I wasn't allowed near a yard of him
And it ate deep into my soul,
I watched him grow from a distance then,
But she finally got me the sack,
She told the Governor I'd been spying
Whenever she lay on her back.
The years went by and I got me a trade,
But I lived right next to the Jail,
I'd watch them motor right by me then
And I felt myself turn pale,
They looked so fine in their motorcade,
With the windows wound right down,
My son grew tall by the prison wall
As the weeks and the years rolled round.
The hard times came, the hard times went,
I needed some extra pounds,
The government service advertised,
I applied, and they asked me round,
I must have done well in their questionnaire
For I got the job in the end,
They would call me, give me a time and place
And expect me to attend.
I didn't speak of my duties then,
It wasn't considered 'form',
It was only once in a purple moon
The official summons came,
I kept my secret and nobody asked,
I worked at my trade by day,
Then every so often the phone would ring:
'I'm sorry, I'm called away! '
For twenty years I held my peace,
But followed my Billy Cole,
I drank in the bars where he would drink,
Sat deep in a corner stall,
I watched him mixing in company
I'd have warned him of, if I could,
But whenever I plucked the courage up
My tongue would turn to wood.
I heard his name start cropping up
With a gang in the old East End,
His mouth had taken a surly look
And he seemed like he needed a friend,
But his eyes were hard as the hardest flint
And his cheek was scarred to the bone,
He carried a blade and a razor strop
So I left him well alone.
His mother, Caroline, sought him out
And begged him to go with her,
I heard him laugh in a quick retort:
'Go home to the Governor?
You must be mad, ' he told her then,
He's not been a father to me! '
And Caroline cried, and dabbed at her eyes
While I watched from under a tree.
I turned away - 'Too late, too late, '
I thought, 'if she'd only seen
That blood was thicker than water...'
But all that was a might-have-been.
The tears sprang as I walked away
And rolled at my cheek, undone;
The dye was cast and the lad was lost
Before I could find my tongue.
He killed a man in a brawl one day,
Over some cards that lied,
Was wrestled down to the floor and held
For the constable outside,
They took him down to the holding cells
And charged him there on the spot,
'It's Murder One, my lad, you'll need
All the guile that your lawyer's got.'
He went in front of the Bailey, where
The balance of justice stands,
The trial was over before he looked
On down at his trembling hands,
The Judge came back, put on the cap
So black, right over his head,
Delivered the dreaded few words that he heard,
And those were... 'hanged by the neck...'
I got to visit him only the once, down
Where the condemned man waits,
He scowled as I stood by the door, and said:
'Have you come with your measuring tapes? '
I said, 'No son, but I had to come,
To right a very old wrong...
By God in heaven, I'll tell you now -
I'm your father, and you're my son! '
I wept, he wept, and I left him there
To pay for his terrible crime,
And I... I took to my bed just then,
Pulled all the curtains and blinds,
A week, two weeks, I was woken then
With a summons, time and a place,
So I packed a bag in the early hours
Took up my travelling case.
At dawn, I walked through the prison yard
Was shown through the bars and gates,
I spread my gear in an empty cell,
And opened my travelling case,
They brought him down with the chaplain then
So brave, but a little sad,
As I pulled the hood down over his eyes,
I swear that he called me - 'Dad! '
24 September 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sorrow
I walked into the park and saw a young man sitting by a flower bed
I asked him why he looked so miserable and this is what he said,
“Sixty years ago I fell in love with a beautiful girl and now she has to die
I knew her time would come one day, but the years have just flashed by.
I knew that it was wrong to love her, but my heart ruled over my head.
I was there when she was born at home and I stood by her mother’s bed.
As the years passed I watched over her, and proposed when she was sixteen.
She was so young and beautiful then, and everyday we lived a dream.
She didn’t know that I was different and I just couldn’t bear to tell her so,
but she had suspicions as her hair greyed, and my age didn’t show.
And now my heart is breaking because I want to die and be with my wife,
without her my life isn’t worth living, and I no longer want this life.
For sixty years life has been wonderful for me and my only true love,
but soon I must take her up and leave her in the heavens above.
I don’t know how I’m going to take the woman I adore from my side.
I’m sorry for sharing my sorrow with you, ” and as he left he cried.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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