Clarence Fawcett
The sudden death of Eugene Carman
Put me in line to be promoted to fifty dollars a month,
And I told my wife and children that night.
But it didn't come, and so I thought
Old Rhodes suspected me of stealing
The blankets I took and sold on the side
For money to pay a doctor's bill for my little girl.
Then like a bolt old Rhodes accused me,
And promised me mercy for my family's sake
If I confessed, and so I confessed,
And begged him to keep it out of the papers,
And I asked the editors, too.
That night at home the constable took me
And every paper, except the Clarion,
Wrote me up as a thief
Because old Rhodes was an advertiser
And wanted to make an example of me.
Oh! well, you know how the children cried,
And how my wife pitied and hated me,
And how I came to lie here.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Related quotes
The prisoner of his conscience (Story Poem)
He was very poor and he married a rich woman
So he got money but he became a very sad man
She couldn't have children, even it wasn't his game plan
One day he saw a widow walking down the street ''It's later'
He told her calmly and begun to discuss about life with her
He didn't know why he suddenly felt to touch her so tender
He understood her when she confessed her cried coeur
Saying that she had three grown children and she was very poor
And she had to work as housemaid at a loudmouthed boor
She was in pain and he felt that and to help her was his concern
He wanted to take care of her family asking nothing in return
He thought never to dishonor her acting as a father to her children
He begun to understand how unhappy was the woman he loved
When he left her for another one and she became so grieved
He asked her to talk about his feelings for her and she approved
He wanted to divorce to marry her and take care of her needs
Certainly he wanted to become an adoptive father of her kids
To make her the mother of his future children he made a bid
His wife didn't agree to divorce but he left her on her demand
He took the widow and went to find their soul in a far away land
His wife got crazy and she killed herself they found her on the sand
He went to her funeral to see her last time without annoyance
He begun to scream releasing something deeper and fierce
Without his wish releasing the prisoner of his conscience.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Jack McGuire
They would have lynched me
Had I not been secretly hurried away
To the jail at Peoria.
And yet I was going peacefully home,
Carrying my jug, a little drunk,
When Logan, the marshal, halted me,
Called me a drunken hound and shook me,
And, when I cursed him for it, struck me
With that Prohibition loaded cane --
All this before I shot him.
They would have hanged me except for this:
My lawyer, Kinsey Keene, was helping to land
Old Thomas Rhodes for wrecking the bank,
And the judge was a friend of Rhodes
And wanted him to escape,
And Kinsey offered to quit on Rhodes
For fourteen years for me.
And the bargain was made. I served my time
And learned to read and write.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Eugene Carman
Rhodes' slave! Selling shoes and gingham,
Flour and bacon, overalls, clothing, all day long
For fourteen hours a day for three hundred and thirteen days
For more than twenty years.
Saying "Yes'm" and "Yes, sir", and "Thank you"
A thousand times a day, and all for fifty dollars a month.
Living in this stinking room in the rattle-trap "Commercial."
And compelled to go to Sunday School, and to listen
To the Rev. Abner Peet one hundred and four times a year
For more than an hour at a time,
Because Thomas Rhodes ran the church
As well as the store and the bank.
So while I was tying my neck-tie that morning
I suddenly saw myself in the glass:
My hair all gray, my face like a sodden pie.
So I cursed and cursed: You damned old thing
You cowardly dog! You rotten pauper!
You Rhodes' slave! Till Roger Baughman
Thought I was having a fight with some one,
And looked through the transom just in time
To see me fall on the floor in a heap
From a broken vein in my head.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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There was an Old Person of Rhodes,
Who strongly objected to toads;
He paid several cousins,
To catch them by the dozens,
That futile Old Person of Rhodes.
quote by by Edward Lear
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Cancer
he went to the doctor because of
a pain in his chest.
they gave him a physical and ran every test.
the doctor told him:
the results will come back within one week
then we'll sit and we'll speak.
the results came back, just like he said
and with it bad news, of which he had dread.
CANCER! how can that be, i am only thirty three.
what will happen, what can i do.
i have a family just like you.
what will happen to my children
and my lovely wife, how will she
survive in this uncertain life?
two kids to raise and her husband not there.
what is GOD thinking, does'nt he care.
i'll accept death, be it as may.
but i always dreamt with my children i'd play.
now with the bad news he had to face the family.
should he tell them the truth, or tell them a lie.
but sooner or later he would die.
that night with tears in his eyes
he told his family he was going to die.
the time i have left on this earth only GOD can tell.
and if i'll go to heaven, or if i'll go to hell.
so while i am here, i want to share my entire life
with my family, because with you is where i want to be.
we're going to do all the things that we've
never done before, like take a trip to the shore.
all the sports that we wanted to do
fishing, boating, hunting, hiking
and just some quality time all alone.
for i don't know when i'll be coming home.
i want you all to remember this:
this is not words of good-bye
for we'll see each other on the other side.
CANCER: THINK ABOUT IT BEFORE YOU TAKE THAT DRAG
FOR IT MAY BE YOUR VERY LAST.
poem by Louis Rams
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Barry Holden
The very fall my sister Nancy Knapp
Set fire to the house
They were trying Dr. Duval
For the murder of Zora Clemens,
And I sat in the court two weeks
Listening to every witness.
It was clear he had got her in a family way;
And to let the child be born
Would not do.
Well, how about me with eight children,
And one coming, and the farm
Mortgaged to Thomas Rhodes?
And when I got home that night,
(After listening to the story of the buggy ride,
And the finding of Zora in the ditch,)
The first thing I saw, right there by the steps,
Where the boys had hacked for angle worms,
Was the hatchet!
And just as I entered there was my wife,
Standing before me, big with child.
She started the talk of the mortgaged farm,
And I killed her.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Last Night, I Died
Last night, I died
And there was no one there
There was no one for me to speak to
Except for GOD; who I did in prayer.
I asked GOD then to forgive me
And please, erase the sins of this man
Then I asked him to watch over my family and friends
And then I asked him please; hold my hand.
And as I lay there dying
Unto GOD I freely spoke
I thanked him for all the gifts he gave me,
I thanked him for all the words I wrote.
Then I closed my eyes and had memories
But not of the bad times, only the good,
Then I thought of the people I loved and trusted,
Not because I had to, but because I should.
And while I was there still alone
Awaiting for death to take my life,
I began to cry, but not for me
But for my son, and the woman I call wife.
Then I thought in Heaven who would walk with me
When I arrived, in my new home,
Then I thought who would be with me
Or in Heaven I thought, Would I walk alone.
And as I awaited For my life to end
I worried as I began to think of everyone else,
The sting of death really didn't bother me,
But only knowing, I would die by myself.
And then at last death it came,
And there for me, no one had cried
Because no one knew that I left this world
Because no one knew, last night I had died.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Clown With A Frown**********6/19/69
6/19/69
While sitting in the park one day
A man happened to pass my way.
He was dressed up like a clown
With a large and pitiful frown.
As he stopped and turned towards me
I asked myself “ what can it be”
That he continues to stare at me.
He gave a little sigh and sat down by my side
And as he turned towards me
I knew it was something dreadfully.
He said that he lost everything in his life
His home, his children, and his wife.
He lost everything while in his prime
And he thought everything was going just fine.
He had met this woman where he worked
Where she considered all men jerks.
It seemed that she had taken to me.
But that was part of her plan
To get everything she can.
She started going with me to lunch
I never suspected or had a hunch
That it was all part of an elaborate plan
To prove that all men were dumb
That she could use any man just for fun.
So in I fell like a spider in a web
She got me where she wanted me
In a bed.
She had pictures taken while making love
She passed it around the office for
Every one to see, just how she had gotten me.
She sent copies to my boss and wife
While knowing it would be the end for me.
she didn’t care about losing her job too.
She was always in solitude.
So this was the story as it was told to me
And why he would always wear a frown
And by a woman never be put down.
As he got up and left me on the bench
He turned and smiled and said these words.
When you feel life is letting you down
And you’re in despair, - remember me
And what I went through
And soon you’ll climb out of that solitude.
poem by Louis Rams
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Clown With A Frown********6/19/69
6/19/69
While sitting in the park one day
A man happened to pass my way.
He was dressed up like a clown
With a large and pitiful frown.
As he stopped and turned towards me
I asked myself “ what can it be”
That he continues to stare at me.
He gave a little sigh and sat down by my side
And as he turned towards me
I knew it was something dreadfully.
He said that he lost everything in his life
His home, his children, and his wife.
He lost everything while in his prime
And he thought everything was going just fine.
He had met this woman where he worked
Where she considered all men jerks.
It seemed that she had taken to me.
But that was part of her plan
To get everything she can.
She started going with me to lunch
I never suspected or had a hunch
That it was all part of an elaborate plan
To prove that all men were dumb
That she could use any man just for fun.
So in I fell like a spider in a web
She got me where she wanted me
In a bed.
She had pictures taken while making love
She passed it around the office for
Every one to see, just how she had gotten me.
She sent copies to my boss and wife
While knowing it would be the end for me.
she didn’t care about losing her job too.
She was always in solitude.
So this was the story as it was told to me
And why he would always wear a frown
And by a woman never be put down.
As he got up and left me on the bench
He turned and smiled and said these words.
When you feel life is letting you down
And you’re in despair, - remember me
And what I went through
And soon you’ll climb out of that solitude.
poem by Louis Rams
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In the Courts
She had been caught stealing bottles of perfume
and was a regular customer in her local Boots
the magistrate called her a professional thief
but she swore and said she didn't give two hoots.
He was known in the paper as the crazy Arsonist
as for some reason he liked to set fire to a school
when the Judge said he was a menace to the community
he just laughed at him and called him an old fool.
The paper had called her'a lady of the night'
as she liked to ply her trade on the street
it said she was a single mother of six kids
and she only did it to make ends meet.
Three armed robbers were sentenced in the Court
and they had all received Ten years apiece
but they'd lived the high life whilst on the run
and had property in Majorca, Ibiza, and Nice.
His charge was one of drink driving
but he claimed that he'd only had one or two
the Policeman said he was unsteady and slurring
but the defendant replied that was because he had Flu.
It said he'd been a member of the church for years
but the vicar had caught him in bed with his wife
the reverend said he was sorry he'd lost self control
but was accused of chasing the naked man with a knife.
In The Courts is in the local paper every day
and you can see why it's such a popular page
like when the Judge asked him why did he do it?
he replied because he thought looting was all the rage!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Doctor Rabelais
Once -- it was many years ago.
In early wedded life,
Ere yet my loved one had become
A very knowing wife,
She came to me and said: 'My dear,
I think (and do not you?)
That we should have about the house
A doctor's book or two.
'Our little ones have sundry ills
Which I should understand
And cure myself, if I but had
A doctor's book at hand.
Why not economize, my dear,
In point of doctor's biils
By purchasing the means to treat
Our litt;e household ills?'
Dear, honest, patient little wife!
She did not even guess
She offered me the very prize
I hankered to possess.
'You argus, wisely, wife,' quoth I,
'Proceed without delay
To find and comprehend the works
Of Doctor Rabelais.'
I wrote the title out for her
(She'd never heard the name),
And presently she bought those books,
And home she lugged the same;
I clearly read this taunting boast
On her triumphant brow:
'Aha, ye venal doctors all,
Ye are outwitted now!'
Those volumes stood upon the shelf
A month or two unread,
Save as such times by night I conned
Their precious wit in bed;
But once -- it was a wintry time --
I heard my loved one say:
'This child is croupy; I'll consult
My doctor, Rabelais!'
Soon from her delusive dream
My beauteous bride awoke.
Too soon she grasped the fulness of
My bibliomaniac joke.
There came a sudden, shocking change,
As you may well suppose,
And with her reprehensive voice
The temperature arose.
But that was many years ago,
In early wedded life,
And that dear lady has become
A very knowing wife;
For she hath learned from Rabelais
What elsewhere is agreed:
The plague of bibliomania is
A cureless ill indeed.
And still at night, when all the rest
Are hushed in sweet repose,
O'er those two interdicted tomes
I laugh and nod and doze.
From worldly ills and business cares
My weary mind is lured,
And by that doctor's magic art
My ailments all are cured.
So my dear, knowing little wife
Is glad that it is so,
And with a smile recalls the trick
I played her years ago;
And whensoe'er dyspeptic pangs
Compel me to their sway,
The saucy girl bids me consult
My Doctor Rabelais!
poem by Eugene Field
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The Mate’s Story
‘I’ve often wondered how it is, at times
Good people do what are as bad as crimes.
A common person would have been ashamed
To do what once a family far-famed
For their religious ways was known to do.
Small harm befell, small thanks to them were due.
They from abroad, perhaps it cost them less,
Had brought a young French girl as governess,
A pretty, youthful thing as e’er you saw;
She taught the children how to play and draw,
Of course, the language of her native land;
English she scarcely learnt to understand.
After a time they wanted her no more;
She must go home, but how to send her o’er,
Far in the south of France she lived, and they
In Ireland there was more than they could say.
A monthly steamer, as they chanced to know,
From Liverpool went over to Bordeaux,
And would, they thought, exactly meet the case.
They wrote and got a friend to take a place;
And from her salary paid her money down.
A trading steamer from the sea-port town
Near which they lived, across the Channel plied,
And this, they said, a passage would provide.
With pigs, and with the Irish reaping horde,
This pretty tender girl was put on board;
And a rough time of it, no doubt, had she,
Tossing about upon the Irish Sea.
Arrived at last and set ashore, she found
The steamer gone for which she had been bound.
The pious people, in their careless way,
Had made some loose mistake about the day.
She stood; the passengers with whom she crossed
Went off, and she remained as one that ’s lost.
Think of the hapless creature standing here
Alone, beside her boxes on the pier.
Whither to turn, and where to try and go,
She knew not; nay, the language did not know.
So young a girl, so pretty too, set down
Here, in the midst of a great sea-port town,
What might have happened one may sadly guess,
Had not the captain, seeing her distress,
Made out the cause, and told her she could stay
On board the vessel till the following day.
Next day, he said the steamer to Bordeaux
Was gone no doubt, next month the next would go;
For this her passage-money she had paid,
But some arrangement could, he thought, be made,
If only she could manage to afford
To wait a month and pay for bed and board.
She sadly shook her head well, after all,
’Twas a bad town, and mischief might befall,
Would she go back? Indeed ’twas but a shame,
To take her back to those from whom she came.
‘There’s one thing, Miss,’ said he, ‘that you can do,
It’s speaking somewhat sudden-like, it’s true,
But if you’ll marry me, I’ll marry you.
May be you won’t, but if you will you can.’
This captain was a young and decent man,
And I suppose she saw no better way;
Marry they did, and married live this day.
Another friend, these previous nights away,
An officer of engineers, and round
By Halifax to far Bermuda bound,
Joined us this night; a rover he had been.
Many strange sights and many climes had seen,
And much of various life; his comment was, ’twas well
There was no further incident to tell.
He’d been afraid that ere the tale was o’er,
’Twould prove the captain had a wife before.
The poor French girl was luckier than she knew;
Soldiers and sailors had so often two.
And it was something, too, for men who went
From port to port to be with two content.
In every place the marriage rite supplied
A decent spouse to whom you were not tied.
Of course the women would at times suspect,
But felt their reputations were not wrecked.
One after night we took ourselves to task
For our neglect who had forborne to ask
The clergyman, who told his tale so well,.
Another tale for our behalf to tell.
He to a second had himself confessed,
Now, when to hear it eagerly we pressed,
He put us off; but, ere the night was done,
Told us his second, and his sadder one.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough from Mari Magno or Tales on Board
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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aaa1 Especially the Donkeys
I remember thinking it’s all happening in the sky
Above the clouds
I remember thinking how did we get to know about it
6yrs old
With innocence of a child I never thought to question
Never asked mum or dad
Never asked anyone
Others believed so why not me
Anyway the stories were great
Grandad in his uniform, he believed
Auntie Rose believed
The whole side of dad’s family believed
They played in the band,
Sold the papers
Rattled the tins
Story was dad was thrown out for drinking
Off ill the doctor said Bill have some stout, it will do you good
When the officer saw it on a home visit dad was thrown out
But he still believed
So did I, with the innocence of a child
Auntie Gladys believed but they had no band
Just an organ, and the songs weren’t as good
No joy
Just belief
Uncle Fred repaired the roof, did odd jobs
He believed
Anyway it was worth believing for the Whit walks
People threw money
You kept it
After the walks the bus
The annual trip to Southport
Sandwiches and songs on the beach
Yet I still see myself, in the classroom
Dreaming of this land in the sky
Wondering why all these people didn’t fall out of it
Especially the Donkeys
poem by Bill Smith
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Ida Chicken
After I had attended lectures
At our Chautauqua, and studied French
For twenty years, committing the grammar
Almost by heart,
I thought I'd take a trip to Paris
To give my culture a final polish.
So I went to Peoria for a passport --
(Thomas Rhodes was on the train that morning.)
And there the clerk of the district Court
Made me swear to support and defend
The constitution -- yes, even me --
Who couldn't defend or support it at all!
And what do you think? That very morning
The Federal Judge, in the very next room
To the room where I took the oath,
Decided the constitution
Exempted Rhodes from paying taxes
For the water works of Spoon River!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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My Best Friend Danny
I met him in nineteen fifty-six
he was my best friend
him and I, was always in a fix
of our fights, we always did mend.
There was the time
we painted the fence
wanted to do the job, real fine
used a whole gallon of paint
it didn't make sense
my brother dave asked,
'What happened to all the paint'?
when we told him, 'We used it all, '
he laughed, I thought, he was going to faint,
thru the years, with that story,
we have really had a ball
Then there was the time
we tried to chop down the tree
my brother got mad, but the three was mine
oh, we were so care-free
I never forget the racoon,
that followed us home,
he seemed to like our radio
that was playing a tune
the racoon, seemed so a lone
I never forgot the indian head
pennies, he sold me,
he stole them, of crime he led,
he had taken them from his dad
I should have known, he sold them so cheap
to get them back, his father was glad
He always did something
to me that was real mean
to make up, a present he would bring
of our friendship, he would lean
He taught me how to smoke
this you say, you call a friend.
when I could have had a stroke,
but he always had money to lend
When I didn't have any friends at all,
Danny was always, by my side
and it sure made me feel tall
if any one picked on me, he would
beat their hide
Every one called him and I a clown,
each one laughed so hard
that it, really brought them down,
at poker, he could really hide a card
Every morning before school
we played poker, he cheated a lot
and with him, I wanted to fight a duel
but he told me 'I cheat not.'
Of the down town loop, we did ride
in nine-teen fifty-nine
our car through the streets, would glide
trying to find girls
that would be his or mine
In nine-teen sixty, my dog shep died,
it was very depressing and sad
him and I, all day we cried
it made me unhappy and a little mad
In nine-teen sixty-two
he joined the army
I tried to join, but didn't make it
those days were very stormy
after what he went through,
I didn't mind a bit
In nine-teen sixty-seven
the army let him go,
at home at last, I thought I was
in heaven
but I soon found out, it wasn't so
The army had changed him, in many ways
Danny was not the same anymore
as I looked back, at those good old days
when I always heard him, knock on the door
All he wanted to do now, is go drink
he could'nt sit still very long
and he was really starting to sink
he had seen action, against the Viet Cong
Next to him one night
a man's throat was slashed, a man who was kind
it wasn't good, or right
and what it must have done, to Danny's mind
Over the years, I saw him, until eighty-one
hav'nt seen him since
remember well, good times and all the fun
Danny where ever you are,
you are still my best friend
does that make sense.
Wife- better half of life
Wife is the better half of life
Give wife love affection as soul-mate
Wife is not glorified maid as said
Wife do not want money salary honorarium
Do not make hulla gulla and do not beat drum.
Mian bibi relationship should not be commercialized
Third party intervention in family relation vandalized.
Wife is not a domestic labourer
Wife is backbone of the family
The maile stone of the family
Wife is the torchlight of the family
Wife is the colorful star
Do no put any question to her.
Wife is there to give everything
Wife is not to take anything in return
Wife is the goddess.
Only mad man can say wife is a domestic servant
Make wife a wife life-partner better half
And enjoy life freely.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The Promise made
In the presence of God
you promised to be
a loyal wife
to the man who asked you
to be his wife
until death do part
you promised
in the presence
of the witnesses
and God
Did you really
mean these words?
or was it just empty words?
days ago, you were still
in your old wild ways
from the one man to the next
pure lust night after night
without worrying
about the tomorrow's
Was this man standing
next to you aware of this?
when suddenly out of the blue
he asked you to be his wife
why did you say yes?
I pray that you have repented
from your ways wild
that forgiveness in Christ
was received from God
Have asked Him to be
your Personal Savior
that you have forgiven
yourself and others
have rid yourself
form the ways
of the sinful world
Then you will have
a blessed marriage
in Christ
if not...
Pain and suffering
in a broken marriage
will be the result!
poem by Allen Brodell
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Booby Prize Or A Fine Romance? 2
Yesterday I wrote a joke poem,
Booby Prize Or A Fine Romance,
it told the story of how I met my wife,
all those years ago.
Yes, it was at her first husband’s funeral,
and yes a group of us
met a couple weeks later in a coffee bar,
but no it was not the drawing of a straw,
it was that I volunteered,
which I guess was lucky for me,
because on the 12th of September this year
we celebrate our 37th Wedding Anniversary.
Her first husband was a friend,
but he was a womaniser.
He met his dead in a suicide pact
with a fourteen-year-old girl.
He left a wife and two small children,
without a thought or care,
a month before Christmas that year.
Some said I was brave
to take on a ready-made family.
I do not think I was brave,
but very lucky that day.
We have had our ups and downs
like all families do,
but I would not change a bit of it.
The greatest gifts I received that day,
was a family for a lonely life,
and tolerance through trouble and strife.
Therefore, it is with thanks to them,
I am the man I am today.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A man stands alone
A gloomy evening at the bus stop
He saw his best friend’s wife was seated in the bus
And he just waved but could not get in.
The last bus came
And he saw his best friend
After a long time,
Who was going home?
He promised him to meet on a Sunday
And he confessed to himself
Thinking of his friend’s wife.
His tears joined the drizzle
Which has turned to heavy rains?
And he drowned in the flood water.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two Pizzas
TWO PIZZAS
Our kitchen is chill silent
today, this Friday afternoon -
four-burner prestige stove
stays mute, wiped so clean.
no activities seen
for the mid-day meal
wife and children are
chit- chatting in bed;
stories from Russia,
‘hithihasic kahanies'
tit-bits form weeklys
mock-trial make-ups
slowly, I entered in
to inquire the reason,
for a near hartal.
quickly, my wife replied
she has ordered ‘pizzas online'
two plus one, spicy chicken with some add-on
on fifty percent discount coupon
my childhood days were totally different
two pizzas are equal to two months' mess bill
a class iv servant will run his family whole month - but
my children are fortunate, father is a ‘ project leader'.
……two pizzas speaking of contrasting economies.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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