Pretty Darned Smart
She was quiet and shy, a naive little thing
An invisible girl, a puppet on a string
Sleepwalking through life
No big plans, goals, or dreams
She didn't feel special, or pretty, or smart
But when she was alone, she would sing from her heart
Her voice was pleasant, but no one ever knew
And neither did she, she hadn't a clue
She had two older sisters, and they all shared a room
With bunk beds, in a room, that was designed just for two
As the youngest of three, she'd no bed of her own
Yes it's true, though not fair, what's a little sister to do
But....In this rectangular two-sister-bedroom's far corner
Was the door to a storage room, just the right size for one boarder
Where an old metal bed, abandoned by older brother
Held hand-me-down-clothing, that first was one's, then another's
The best part of all, was the old pink-painted wardrobe
The bed tarnished and rusty, wardrobe mirrors smudged and quite dusty
She buffed out a circle in the mirror, and saw her reflection
Inspired, she asked Mother, who had no objection
Staking claim on this space, she started to clean
A large job for a small girl, not quite yet a preteen
She moved boxes and mopped, and she sang as she cleaned
Semi-done, the bed, windows, wardrobe mirrors, fairly gleamed
She washed curtains, re-hung them, tied them back with some string
Put on line-dried fresh bed linens and a grandma-made bed quilt
Looked around, very pleased with her own room she had(kind of) built
Glimpsed herself in the mirror of wardrobe ancient and pink
Found her reflection delightful, her self-esteem to rethink
She'd made a plan, had worked hard, and achieved her objective
She felt pretty darned smart, and in her heart, quietly festive
Sunshine danced through her room, dust specks waltzing in sunbeams
She began to twirl in her own sunlight, and to sing out her dreams
poem by DonnaJ York
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Related quotes
Marriage
Marriage for Esme began as a wide open room
with windows that let in the sunshine
and curtains so light and airy
they floated on the breeze.
Her husband's blue eyes would sparkle
with just a hint of mischief
and fun that they intrigued her,
made him special.
Then in the second year on her birthday
it seemed the room had grown dusty,
the curtains seemed dull,
the windows small.
And in the third year, without a doubt
the sun had gone down on her
and the room held a chill
like her aching heart.
By the fifth year, she'd aged,
her eyes had shadows, her skin had paled
and the room seemed small
with no windows at all.
She had shriveled, was withdrawn,
she'd sit in the corner of the room humming,
rocking back and forth, back and forth,
back and forth........
poem by Ruth Walters
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Sleep with the lights on..............
Her first room had bare walls,
pale blue, and a built in wardrobe.
The single bed was
pushed against a wall,
and the blankets were coarse.
Her first room was cold and sterile,
offering no charm, no comfort.
It was but a box, austere,
yet practical, it offered
nothing.
Thinking back,
maybe it was that room,
the starkness,
its high, plain windows,
its bare, tiled floor.
These days it's locked,
except for her night chills,
the way her stomach fell
in the mornings
as the cock crowed.
Her first room lies
belly up on the page….
Here, take it,
make of it what you will,
sleep with the lights on...if you have to.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Chivalry
I saw you across the room
and my heart stopped.
You noticed
and I looked away.
I saw you across the room
this time you didn't see
me looking at you.
I moved my eyes
across the all of you
moved my lips
feeling my breath stop.
'Beautiful' I thought
'just a beautiful man'
Not supposed to notice
all the pretty men,
not if you're a bit older:
but pretty I still am
and I want to know
if younger men know;
If I can still attract
a look
still get noticed;
even admired.
Or am I now invisible
to any young man
under 25?
A critical point
in every woman's life
where the line between
younger and older lies.
I move
to catch your line of sight
just to see if your eye
would linger long enough
to make me understand
you wanted a second look.
You glanced
but then glanced away.
I decided for another try
and stood behind
so that if you moved
you encounter me
and I'd dropp my notepad.
Why pass 35
do I
still need to be admired
by younger men?
You moved and my pad dropped.
And with little or no eye-contact,
you picked it up
with a smile
and gave it back.
I bobbed my head
moved on
felled by
indifferent
chivalry
and passage
into
the Older Woman Category.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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My Legacy
My great aunt bequeathed me her wardrobe;
hand carved and made from oak.
It matched the chest of drawers my mother had,
which my ancestors had made bespoke.
We washed, cleaned, and wax polished it,
and placed it where our old one used to be.
It had a distinctive smell of moth balls,
but we were overwhelmed by its history.
My great aunt believed it to be sixteenth century,
and was built especially for the church.
Any further information that we could glean
would be well worthwhile search.
After the smell had gone I filled it with my clothes,
but then it began to smell of church incense.
It wasn’t bad enough to make the clothes smell,
but why it did, made no sense.
A few weeks later whilst I was sleeping
the sound of church bells woke me up.
This was most unusual for the time of night,
so I opened the window to take a look.
By the time I’d looked out of the window
the bells had stopped, so I got into bed.
I had no trouble getting back off to sleep,
and the bells went out of my head.
The next night the same thing happened,
the church bells rang out loud and clear.
This time I realised they weren’t outside,
they were somewhere else quite near.
The ringing was coming from the wardrobe,
so nervously I slowly opened the door.
I sort of expected to see a portal to a church,
but there was only the clothes I wore.
The bells became a common occurrence,
so much so, they didn’t wake me up,
but when I began to hear an organ playing,
my wife and I, had to take a look.
Again there was nothing out of place
except for the music which continued to play.
We couldn’t understand what was happening,
and this was happening everyday.
No harm was coming from the wardrobe,
so I accepted our unusual legacy.
I didn’t discuss it to the family, or anyone,
in the fear of them laughing at me.
Throughout the weeks the sounds became varied,
singing choirs of a gone by age.
Church services spoken entirely in Latin,
and sermons delivered with rage.
Weddings, Christenings, Funerals, and Communions,
and every Christian festival and feast.
This was without doubt an insight of the past,
but now it was affecting our sleep.
One night when a service had ended,
the wardrobe began to shake on the floor.
Noises of movement came from within,
and suddenly there opened a door.
I jumped out of bed rather quickly
and had a look around inside.
Cassocks were hanging upon the rail,
and my clothes had been cast aside.
This situation had now become intolerable,
something had to be done without delay.
I dismantling the whole of the wardrobe,
and burned it the very next day.
I never saw my missing clothes again,
and when my family asked about my legacy,
I told them everything about the wardrobe,
and how it grew into a frightening mystery.
Now that I’m able to talk and write about it,
some people smile, and don’t believe a thing.
But if they care to spend a night in my bedroom,
they will still hear the church bells ring!
poem by Orlando Belo
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Elegantly Drowning
She stands so eleganty,
she stands so pretty,
pretty girl is suffering,
pretty girl is drowning,
Elegantly she floats through the last of her days.
Pretty girl drinks it all down,
Pretty girl passes out,
pretty girl doesn't cry out,
she screams in silence,
she stands alone in a crowded room,
no room for any more pain.
She lays there so quietly, she lays there so innocently,
Innocence lost, losing her own battle, a fight she can't seem to win,
Pretty girl so skinny,
Pretty girl so sickly,
Pretty girl is drowning.
Her memories haunt so elegantly,
She used to stand so pretty,
Pretty girl sufferers no more,
She rinces it all down,
Pretty girl poured her life out.
poem by Amanda Swindahl
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The Afternoon Sun
This room, how well I know it.
Now they're renting it, and the one next to it,
as offices. The whole house has become
an office building for agents, businessmen, companies.
This room, how familiar it is.
The couch was here, near the door,
a Turkish carpet in front of it.
Close by, the shelf with two yellow vases.
On the right -no, opposite- a wardrobe with a mirror.
In the middle the table where he wrote,
and the three big wicker chairs.
Beside the window the bed
where we made love so many times.
They must still be around somewhere, those old things.
Beside the window the bed;
the afternoon sun used to touch half of it.
. . . One afternoon at four o'clock we separated
for a week only . . . And then-
that week became forever.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Moon In The Mirror
Moon in the mirror,
Wont you stay a while tonight?
All things of beauty
Are too soon out of sight.
I know its a selfish plea;
You must light the hearts of more than me.
Theres a girl at her window;
Now shes trying to catch your eye.
But oh, pretty stranger,
You must keep on passing by.
Moon in the mirror, I dont know you;
Just a reflection of kisses
And whispers and indigo skies.
Moon in the mirror, look below you.
Moons looking back and theyre loving
And longing and telling no lies.
Moon in the mirror,
I will ask you one more time,
Not for a reason and not for a rhyme,
But please tell me if you can,
Have you seen a moonlit man?
Hes so very like you,
You could see him from afar.
Perhaps hes a misplaced moonbeam
Or a banished star.
Moon in the mirror, hes so like you.
Light up the room for an hour;
A smile or the beat of my heart.
Oh, how my heart tried to fight him,
Fight against mirrors of moonlight
Or lovelight. you lost from the start,
From the start
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Her Mother Doesn't Know.
Rosina's baby sister died.
The cot stood empty
in the darkened room.
Don't go in there
her mother said.
Rosina opened the door
and peered through
the gap instead.
The toys were still there
by the pink pillow and cover.
Leave the room alone
said her grieving mother.
Moonlight shone upon
the place where baby sister
once turned her face
and smiled or made
her baby noise.
Quiet now the room.
Unplayed with
the idle toys.
Mother cried at night
and often in the day
and stared through
the window at the far off bay.
Father was away
in some distant war
keeping his head down
in some foreign land.
Rosina's baby sister
was buried deep
beneath the ground
in a small white coffin
dressed in a ghostly shroud
with songs sung sadly
and tears in the crowd.
Rosina peered through
the gap of the door
at the cot
and moonlight's glow.
She's seen her baby sister's
ghostly smile
but mother doesn't know.
poem by Terry Collett
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Two Sisters
Sylvilla looked into her mirror
Percilla looked into the washing machine
And the drudgery of being wed
She was so jealous of her sister
And her liberty, and her smart young friends
She was so jealous of her sister
Sylvilla looked into the wardrobe
Percilla looked into the frying pan
And the bacon and eggs
And the breakfast is served
She was so jealous of her sister
And her way of life, and her luxury flat
She was so jealous of her sister
She threw away her dirty dishes just to be free again
Her womens weekly magazines just to be free again
And put the children in the nursery just to be free again
Percilla saw her little children
And then decided she was better off
Than the wayward lass that her sister had been
No longer jealous of her sister
So she ran round the house with her curlers on
No longer jealous of her sister
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Candle
By my bed, on a little round table
The Grandmother placed a candle.
She gave me three kisses telling me they were three
dreams
And tucked me in just where I loved being tucked.
Then she went out of the room and the door was shut.
I lay still, waiting for my three dreams to talk;
But they were silent.
Suddenly I remember giving her three kisses back.
Perhaps, by mistake, I had given my three little
dreams
I sat up in bed.
The room grew big, oh, bigger far than a church.
The wardrobe, quite by itself, as big as a house.
And the jug on the washstand smiled at me:
It was not a friendly smile.
I looked at the basket-chair where my clothes lay
folded:
The chair gave a creak as though it were listening
for something.
Perhaps it was coming alive and going to dress in
my clothes.
But the awful thing was the window:
I could not think what was outside.
No tree to be seen, I was sure,
No nice little plant or friendly pebbly path.
Why did she pull the blind down every night?
It was better to know.
I crunched my teeth and crept out of bed,
I peeped through a slit of the blind.
There was nothing at all to be seen.
But hundreds of friendly candles all over the sky
In remembrance of frightened children.
I went back to bed...
The three dreams started singing a little song.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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The Pink Room
When you get to the pink room
do not forget to leave her
a rose.
I want her to know
we have remembered the pink room,
I want her to remember me.
I dreamt of the pink room last
night, of a time when it kept me safe,
a time when it kept her safe.
The pink room is hidden from view
now, has been stripped bare of the
lilac, the silver - someone
I will never know has carelessly
splashed blue paint over my memories.
If you should go to the pink room,
you know you will see me there.
I never could leave the pink room -
remember to leave me a rose.
poem by Morney Wilson
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A change of wardrobe
A change of wardrobe
~
a time has come to change
throw out the tattered rags
the old worn threads
usher in some new colour
brighter and more cheerful
something fresh to wear
a more comfortable fit
a sharper look to be seen in
a time has come to change
redress the wardrobe
and improve the self
cast away the old suits
which had seen better days
and step out to be seen
a newer you awaits
a change of wardrobe
poem by Matthew Holloway
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I Am The Pretty Girl-Chapter Two
By junior year I was feeling pretty lonely
and I went to this party
where all the pretty girls go
so I had to go and everything
there were boys there from the college.
boys I didn't see very often
mature boys
and I was curious
especially about the one named Josh;
he seemed nice
I had watched him from the time I arrived.
but more important
he seemed to have confidence about himself
in a way I wished I had confidence in my self.
I openly looked at him
caught his eye
letting him know girl-way
I liked him
miracle of all miracles he understood my look-
closed his eyes and started across the room toward me
a gentle smile on his face, growing as he drew near.
I was thrilled as I felt him before he even got close to me,
he had something which made me feel weak
a bit frightened but very excited.
Directly in front of me now
I gave him my blank stare
as he towered above me
and I
suddenly realizing
that all eyes were upon us.
To have a college boy interested in you
was the height
the room stood still
as he pivoted to stand
beside me
like we already knew
each other and everything
I could hear little gasps of surprise because
my girls friends thought that we
somehow
did know each other.
He stood there beside me
watching everyone in the room watch us
then he took my hand
slowly into his,
a soft touch,
just a soft touch
not an aggressive touch
and whispered
'Act casual and we can just cruise on out of here
You go first-I will cover you.'
He made me laugh and in that moment I relaxed.
Josh had the ability to make me laugh from the very start.
I took his hand and led him toward a side door
into what was a small garden
with sliding glass doors
so everyone could see us
but not hear us.
I was so relieved to be out of there
and he was too I guess.
He chuckled,
still holding my hand
finally saying;
'I am never going to let go of your hand
ever.'
I looked at him sideways
and he burst out laughing
'Well I will let go sometime
but not before you give me
one of your beautiful smiles.'
Involuntarily I did give him a big smile-
he made me smile,
and then with that smile still on my face
he slowly took his hand from mine
and placed his finger tips on my lips.
The entire room behind those glass doors
gave a hushed gasp
I could almost hear;
from my corner eye
I could see
see heads swirling
as people did double-takes
looking at us.
Then for the first time
in a long time
I felt like the pretty girl
a real pretty girl
thinking if Josh was
or was not going to be the one
to whom I would lose my virginity to.
The thought made me blush.
To be Continued
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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In Your Room
(s. hoffs/b. steinberg/t. kelly)
Susanna
I love it in your room at night
Youre the only one who gets through to me
In the warm glow of the candlelight
Oh, I wonder what youre gonna do to me
In your room
I come alive when Im with you
Ill do anything you want me to
In your room
I love it in your room all day
When youre gone I like to try on all your clothes
You wont regret it if you let me stay
Ill teach you everything that a boy should know
In your room
Im alive when Im with you
Gonna make your dreams come true
In your room
I feel good in your room
Lets lock the world out
Feels so good when we kiss
Nobody ever made me crazy like this
Ill do anything you want me to
I only want to be with you
In your room
In your room
song performed by by Bangles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Blue Room
Its time to go again
To your blue room
Got some questions to ask of you
In your blue room
The air is clean
Your skin is clear
Ive had enough fun hanging round here
Its a different kind of conversation
Your blue room
Saw me coming
In outside
Saw me coming
Somewhere I can hide
And time is a string of pearls...your blue room
(Im a swinger)
See the future just hanging there...your blue room
A new frame, a new perspective
Looking down on my objectives
Your instructions whatever their directions
Your blue room
Saw me coming
East by the moon
Saw me coming
Can you feel
(its allright)
Your blue room
One day Ill be back...your blue room
Yeah, I hope I remember where its at...your blue room
We see me slide
Wont you give me a home
So much for change
Zooming in
Zooming out
Nothing I cant do without
A lens to see it all up close
Magnifying what no one knows
Never in company
Never alone
No car alarm
No cellular phone
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost Heart.12.7.10
To be exiled far from what one may call home
Is melancholy sometimes, June-Paulette.
Travelling litters the planet with pieces of one's self,
But where exactly did I leave my heart?
It’s out there somewhere on a baggage carousel
Or in Left Luggage in some dusty terminal.
Under a rarely-cleaned hotel-room bed
Or at the bottom of a guest-house wardrobe.
One shouldn’t take out so intimate a thing
If one doesn’t want to risk it’s loss: or,
If one does, one should at very least inscribe it
With Return to Sender and address.
So I would send you something of my heart,
June-Paulette... if only I could find it.
poem by Roy William Gotaas
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When Her Brothers Were Away.
When Monica asked
if she could go with you
and her brothers
bike riding
her mother said
no you're too young
or if she asked
to go with you
and Jim and Pete
to the cinema
to see the latest
Elvis flick
her mother said
definitely not
it's not for young girls
and Monica'd storm indoors
slamming the door
shouting I hate you all
but when you called one day
and her brothers were out
(gone to see their big brother
about some old motorbike)
her mother said
yes come in and wait
and Monica was
pleased as Punch
especially when
her mother said
you could stay to lunch
and I can show you
over the place
Monica said
and after lunch maybe
we can go for a bike ride
along the small lanes
and maybe you
could show me
some judo moves
and her mother said
we'll see I'm not sure
Benedict will want
to do those kind
of things with a girl
and went off
to make lunch
and Monica showed you
all over the house
whose room was whose
and up in the attic
she said
this is my room
and took your hand
and took you
to the window
and said
see the view I've got?
Isn't it the best?
and you said
yes it's good
and you took in the view
and looking around
the room you saw her bed
and the big pink elephant
there by the wall
staring at you
and she said
that's Pinkie
isn't she great?
sure
you said
and she took you
down the stairs
to the kitchen for lunch
and her mother
chatted away
about her sons
and Monica sat there
gawking at you
her eyes studying
each aspect of you
her eyes large
as saucers
blue and beautiful
and after lunch
you showed her
a few judo moves
which she loved
especially when
your hands moved her
and you sensed
her almost ready
to burst with joy
and just before
you were ready
to go for a ride
on the bikes
her brothers came
and shooed her away
and she went off
giving them the evil eye
but you she gave
the young girl wink
the we know
what they don't smile
and off you rode
with her brothers
but she kept
those moments with you
(to herself)
as if you were
Romeo and Juliet
fond lovers.
poem by Terry Collett
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Many years ago, I concluded that a few hair shirts were part of the mental wardrobe of every man. The president differs from other men in that he has a more extensive wardrobe.
quote by Herbert Clark Hoover
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Your Room
In your room
Theres a bed in the corner
In your room
Theres a view over the town
In your room
Youre tipewriters telling stories
In your room
There are you waiting for me
When I look into your eyes
I look into a mirror
When I look into your eyes
I can see myself
Kings and queens
They have lost their heads
But i
Ive lost my heart
In your room
Id like to crawl into you
Come cover me with love
Id like to crawl into you
Come cover me with love
Till weve had enough
And we never get enough
There are worlds beneath the world
And they are covered under blankets
In your room
In your room
Dedicated to sonja
song performed by by Fury In The Slaughterhouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Room To Breathe
You ain't done nothin' wrong but I think we need to talk
You might be the one but before we go too far
I need a little time to figure out my heart
Who could ask for more but I need to know for sure
I haven't been myself from the minute that we met
I ran into your world and kind of walked out on myself
All those dreams I had I began to second guess or you
One too many questions until I know the truth
I need room to breathe
A little time to think
To make sure I don't lose me
I need room to breathe
I know you're not to blame and I swear there's no one new
This has to do with me and not a thing to do with you
So don't try to understand
You don't have a thing to prove to me
If you really love me just give me what I need
Room to breathe
A little time to think
To make sure I don't lose me
I need room to breathe
Please don't take this wrong
And please don't turn away
I just don't want to look back
One day and say
I need room to breathe
A little time to think
To make sure I don't lose me
I need room to breathe
Room to breathe
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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