New Territory
Sent off to boarding school
at twelve, with a pair of oxfords,
a pair of patents, my sterling
silver christening rosary
and two dozen name tags stitched
like drops of blood onto the collars
of starched blouses, I stare
down the hall, long and dim,
slippery from too many waxings.
Plaster statues of the holy family live
here, in cave-like niches, the Blessed Virgin,
her face soft and chalky, cheeks
powdered pink. Everything about her
is pliable; she is to be our model.
Joseph is nondescript, covered by
a long brown robe. The baby sleeps.
I eye the nuns, black and fluttery,
and my parents, in wool, with fur collars,
giddy with their new freedom.
I unpack my suitcase and survey
the territory. One iron bed,
one chest of drawers, one slender closet.
A crucifix pierces the white wall.
A dark trunk opens its jaws
to swallow my life.
poem by Geraldine Connolly
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Related quotes
Martha' Crucified.
Martha had this thing
about the Crucified.
The image, the cross,
the stretched out arms.
The one in the convent
school along by the chapel
always caught her eye.
Stood there staring.
Get a move on Martha,
the nun said. Don't gape so.
Or the image in the dining
room stuck up on the wall
above the abbess's table.
Painted on she thought.
Not the same. Her mother
had the one her mother
gave her on her deathbed.
Old wood and plaster.
The plaster peeling from
the hands of the Crucified.
Martha gaped at Him,
at His wounds, at the wound
in His side where the spear
went in. Forgive them for
they know not. They did so,
the bastards, she muttered,
putting her fingers on the wound
in the side. She had an ebony
rosary in her skirt pocket. Black
Christ on the small ebony cross.
She fingered in her pocket, said
the prayers, felt the stiff body
on the cross. Sometimes she
took it out and kissed it; the ebony
body, the head, the arms. Once
she had a cross around her neck,
silver, small, given by some old
codger. She felt it warm between
her small breasts. Lost it when she
took it off to wash and it slipped
down the plughole in the convent bog.
She knew her mother had this wooden
crucifix on her chest of drawers.
A dark wood, a fleshy plastered Christ,
nails through and hands and feet.
She kissed the hands when her mother
was out, her lips touching the smooth
plaster, the eyes closed, the feel of
smoothness on flesh. Not the real
Christ of course. Least not yet.
She'd wait her turn. The real thing.
See what death and Heaven bring.
poem by Terry Collett
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In Black And White
Black and white were the realizations,
Offering me importance with my age;
The collars were realer than the collars
Of ordinary folk, and much dearer for now.
All these things merely were imagined,
Turning to a reality of the lesser kind.
I see other shades of grey in the sky of the dusk,
The day has dawned on me, truly treacherous
For the mistakes it earns on the reality,
Centrally the speakers on the stage
Are damnable.
I was truly present, evidence of the feet
Was a white and black behavior,
Defending the papers of the sinners,
Liking the lads that defended,
And loathing those lads in the security.
I am facing the concentrated beings
Of the minds that object,
Often feeling a white head
And a black picker of fruits
That need to be eaten straightaway.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Hole In The Wall
Hey babe, where did you go
When the down down got too much
Hey baby, where will you be found
When the down down gets to much
We were such an ugly pair
The chameleon twins theyd stop and stare
Lovers know when love has gone
A black hole there where love was once the
End
Hey babe, where will you be
When the crack crack gets too much (crack)
Hey babe, where will you go
Oh, we were such an ugly pair
The chameleon twins theyd stop and stare
Lovers know when love has gone
A black hole there where love was once the
End
Chorus
Theres a hole in the wall
Theres a hole in the wall
Ooh a hole in the wall
Theres a hole in the wall
(she has under our expert persuasion)
(has implicated you in high treason)
(you are under arrest)
(do you have any final requests, requests)
Its a move to take you through
Its a move to take you through
Its a move to take you through
To take you through
To take you through
(you have until the sand runs up)
(do you have any final requests)
(you look great, you look great)
(you look great)
Hey babe where will you go when the hole in
The wall is shut
Wow, babe you know where Ill be when that
Hole in wall is shut
We were such an ugly pair
The chameleon twins theyd stop and stare
Lovers know when love has gone
A black hole there where love was once the
End
Chorus
Theres a hole in the wall
Ooh - a hole in the wall
Theres a hole in the wall
Catch it before you fall
The hole in the wall
Theres a hole in the wall
Ooh - a hole in the wall...
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother Goddess
a circle of stars over
her head
hands holding white
flowers
her feet on top
of a snake
her long black hair
smooth skin
wavy eyelashes
slender fingers
virgin
pure
mother of all
in plaster of Paris
painted and revered
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ive Got Five Dollars
Mister shylock was stingy
I was miserly too.
I was more selfish
And crabby than a shellfish.
Oh, dear, its queer
What love can do!
Id give all my possessions
For you
Ive got five dollars
Im in good conditions
And Ive got ambition
That belongs to you.
Six shirts and collars
Debts beyond endurance
On my life insurance
That belongs to you!
Ive got a heart
That must be spurtin!
Just be certain
Ill be true
Take my five dollars!
Take my shirt and collars!
Take my heart and hollers!
Evrything Ive got belongs to you!
Ive got five dollars
Eighty-five relations
Two lace combinations
They belongs to you!
Two coats with collars
Ma and grandma woreem
All the moths adore em
They belongs to you!
Ive got two lips
That care for mating
Therefore waiting
Will not do!
Take my five dollars!
Take my shirt and collars!
Take my heart and hollers!
Evrything Ive got belongs to you!
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Another Suitcase In Another Hall
Eva: I don't expect my love affairs to last for long
Never fool myself that my dreams will come true
Being used to trouble I anticipate it
But all the same I hate it
Wouldn't you
So what happens now (another suitcase in another hall)
So what happens now (take your picture off another wall)
Where am I going to (you'll get by you always have before)
Where am I going to
Time and time again I've said that I don't care
That I'm immune to gloom that I'm hard through and through
But everytime it matters all my words desert me
So anyone can hurt me
And they do
So what happens now (another suitcase in another hall)
So what happens now (take your picture off another wall)
Where am I going to (you'll get by you always have before)
Where am I going to
Call in three months time and I'll be fine I know
Well maybe not that fine but I'll survive anyhow
I won't recall the names and places of each sad occasion
But that's no consolation
Here and now
So what happens now (another suitcase in another hall)
So what happens now (take your picture off another wall)
Where am I going to (you'll get by you always have before)
Where am I going to
Photographer: Don't ask anymore
song performed by by Madonna from Evita Soundtrack (Part 1)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I think the accessories look very modern and very exciting. These big earrings, these big hoops. I think the girls are sort of falling in love with... collars, neck collars.
quote by Ralph Lauren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Pair Of Brown Eyes
One summer evening drunk to hell
I stood there nearly lifeless
An old man in the corner sang
Where the water lilies grow
And on the jukebox johnny sang
About a thing called love
And its how are you kid and whats your name
And how would you bloody know?
In blood and death neath a screaming sky
I lay down on the ground
And the arms and legs of other men
Were scattered all around
Some cursed, some prayed, some prayed then cursed
Then prayed and bled some more
And the only thing that I could see
Was a pair of brown eyes that was looking at me
But when we got back, labeled parts one to three
There was no pair of brown eyes waiting for me
And a rovin a rovin a rovin Ill go
For a pair of brown eyes
I looked at him he looked at me
All I could do was hate him
While ray and philomena sang
Of my elusive dream
I saw the streams, the rolling hills
Where his brown eyes were waiting
And I thought about a pair of brown eyes
That waited once for me
So drunk to hell I left the place
Sometimes crawling sometimes walking
A hungry sound came across the breeze
So I gave the walls a talking
And I heard the sounds of long ago
From the old canal
And the birds were whistling in the trees
Where the wind was gently laughing
And a rovin a rovin a rovin Ill go
For a pair of brown eyes
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(Memory Chest) Salvaging the Past
How surprised the sea-chest must have been
when it left the sea
began voyaging with me.
No more travelling in the creak of the hold,
bringing home trinkets
from Sorrento and Port Said
Instead
the trunk set out on my Rake's Progress through
West London's bedsits and flatshares,
painted white in my minimalist period,
covered with a kilim in my exotic Ealing phase,
acquired the status of the Holy Ark
when my childhood's relics, unearthed
from my parents' attic,
found no other home than this dark space,
doubly dark, it rested under my own roof
when for three decades my life I
threw down an anchor, moored
and grew stiff with barnacles
When the storm broke.
the trunk was salvaged, and
I added relics of another childhood to its store.
These little shoes that danced,
these pictures from distant Mothers' Days,
concrete evidence of time gone..
And now., what is its fate?
This little chest has held my past
for over forty years. Shall I now inter more relics there?
Or...................?
poem by Janice Windle
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Proportionate
I never go to church to pray
Among the crowded pews
Nor kneel before a crucifix
To hail the king of Jews
I never say a prayer
To Saint or Holy Ghost
Nor listen to the preacher's word
That talks of sin the most
But in a pair of eyes
Or drinking silver gin
Or in the colors of a dress
My soul begins to sing
And sunbeams on the wall
Reveal sometimes for me
The beauty that I weave for God
And for Eternity.
poem by Harry Crosby
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Regal Pair
The lion and the lioness
Posed like a regal pair,
So noble that they both impress,
So dashing, debonair...
So stately and so statuesque,
Each blessed to be born free,
So quite correct and picturesque
With awesome majesty...
Their eyes are like black diamonds there,
In circles made of gold
And who knows what those eyes could share,
If secrets should be told?
Yet those eyes see much more than land,
Their kingdom they survey
And their domain is mighty grand,
Protected night and day...
So have a care, don't wander near,
Don't think they welcome friends,
Don't stand too close, you'll shake with fear,
Perhaps with no defence...
Binoculars may have to do,
If you must stop and stare...
To tell the truth, I can't blame you...
They're such a regal pair...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Regal Pair'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Baby Knows
{co-lead vocal by sheryl crow}
Baby knows
Baby knows
Baby knows, huh
Baby knows
(baby knows) - this funky joint in the city
(baby knows) - where the freaks come out 2 play
(baby knows) - venezuelan, black and pretty
(baby knows) - the kind that make u wanna pay, yeah
Chorus:
(baby knows) - she got the long dark legs
(baby knows) - she got the butt that go round
(baby knows) - this kind of poochie make u beg
(baby knows) - turn a dog into a hound
(baby knows) - she tell me what I wanna hear
(baby knows) - she stroke me up and never down
(baby knows) - whispering sexiness in my ear
(baby knows) - Im just a junkie 4 the sound
(baby knows) - she make u call your boys
(baby knows) - in a pow-wow 2 scope a plan
(baby knows) - how 2 ditch her man in a trunk of a lexus
A perplexing hex this witch has flexed
Chorus
Oh, baby - oh, baby
Baby
(baby knows) - she knows how 2 make u feel
(baby knows) - like your stuff aint brown tonite
(baby knows) - and her perfume... it smells like the weekend
(baby knows) - this funky joint way down in the city
(baby knows) - where the girls sing along 2 the hip-hop all nite long
(baby knows) - white girls, black girls, latinas - oh so pretty
(baby knows) - wont make me give u this ring, baby
Oh, oh, oh
Chorus
Ough, ough
Yeah (baby, baby)
Baby knows
Yeah-yeah (baby, baby)
Baby knows
She got the long dark legs - (baby knows)
She got the butt that go round (round and round)
This kind of poochie make u beg - (baby knows)
Give me your number and I call u
No, u do just turn me down
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Add me to pair.
There are you, only you,
who for I long. Tell me,
what is with me wrong?
I love you, only you,
which is not a crush.
Nor a truce, but real.
Can’t you grant my wish?
Maybe one,
someone, is in your way.
In a better way I can sway.
Heed can you pay?
Sweet and sour, one likes.
Moon and stars, one likes.
Kids and kitten, one likes.
If not sweet, be I a soar;
If not a moon, be I a star,
If not a kid, be I a kitten,
To you, dear.
Take me too, with you,
along with them.
Then I am not wrecked.
A pair of eyes,
A pair of limbs
And a pair of breasts,
all in pair you have.
Take me, to pair with the other.
I can’t retreat. Upbeat is
my heart, that will repeat,
will not subside, or recede.
Don’t put me aside.
There are you.
Only you who for I live.
Show me, please,
show me that
you lull me to trance.
17.12.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Pair Of Eyes
A pair of eyes constitutes the mass of art,
A pair of eyes, tells the throb of heart.
A pair of eyes, is a cool forest pond.
A pair of eyes, is sorcerer's wand.
A pair of eyes, mirrors the soul and mind.
A pair of eyes, thru which man we find.
A pair of eyes, sees all our deeds,
God's eyes are those, one's conscience needs.
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Miracle Of The Rosary
(words & music by l. deanson)
Oh blessed mother we pray to thee
Thanks for the miracle of your rosary
Only you can hold back
Your holy sons hand
Long enough for the whole world to understand
Hail, mary full of grace
The lord is with thee
Blessed are thou among women
And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, jesus
Oh holy mary dear mother of god
Please pray for us sinners
Now and at the hour of our death
And give thanks once again
For the miracle of your rosary
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Last Masquerade
A wan new garment of young green
Touched, as you turned your soft brown hair
And in me surged the strangest prayer
Ever in lover's heart hath been.
That I who saw your youth's bright page,
A rainbow change from robe to robe,
Might see you on this earthly globe,
Crowned with the silver crown of age.
Your dear hair powdered in strange guise,
Your dear face touched with colours pale:
And gazing through the mask and veil
The mirth of your immortal eyes.
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Painters
In the cave with a long-ago flare
a woman stands, her arms up. Red twig, black twig, brown twig.
A wall of leaping darkness over her.
The men are out hunting in the early light
But here in this flicker, one or two men, painting
and a woman among them.
Great living animals grow on the stone walls,
their pelts, their eyes, their sex, their hearts,
and the cave-painters touch them with life, red, brown, black,
a woman among them, painting.
poem by Muriel Rukeyser
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Black Mamba
Hand in the snake pit - black mamba chase.
Head through the lions cage - head on a plate.
Two feet on the hot coals - last dance at the ball.
Blindfold on the tightrope - whenever you call.
Be my slippery slider, black mamba crawl over me.
Dark thoughts of the sleepless - hung out to dry.
Slip through the bedclothes - unblinking eye.
Long tongue flickering - fixed stare grip.
Sweet venomous potion, held to my lip.
Be my slippery slider, black mamba crwal over me.
A tropical whisper. a sibilant kiss.
Soft strike teasing. dangerous bliss.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Forsaken
Holy Mother of God, Merciful Mary. Hear me! I am very weary. I have come
from a village miles away, all day I have been coming, and I ache for such
far roaming. I cannot walk as light as I used, and my thoughts grow confused.
I am heavier than I was. Mary Mother, you know the cause!
Beautiful Holy Lady, take my shame away from me! Let this fear
be only seeming, let it be that I am dreaming. For months I have hoped
it was so, now I am afraid I know. Lady, why should this be shame,
just because I haven't got his name. He loved me, yes, Lady, he did,
and he couldn't keep it hid. We meant to marry. Why did he die?
That day when they told me he had gone down in the avalanche, and could not
be found until the snow melted in Spring, I did nothing. I could not cry.
Why should he die? Why should he die and his child live? His little child
alive in me, for my comfort. No, Good God, for my misery! I cannot face
the shame, to be a mother, and not married, and the poor child to be reviled
for having no father. Merciful Mother, Holy Virgin, take away this sin I did.
Let the baby not be. Only take the stigma off of me!
I have told no one but you, Holy Mary. My mother would call me 'whore',
and spit upon me; the priest would have me repent, and have
the rest of my life spent in a convent. I am no whore, no bad woman,
he loved me, and we were to be married. I carried him always in my heart,
what did it matter if I gave him the least part of me too? You were a virgin,
Holy Mother, but you had a son, you know there are times when a woman
must give all. There is some call to give and hold back nothing.
I swear I obeyed God then, and this child who lives in me is the sign.
What am I saying? He is dead, my beautiful, strong man! I shall never
feel him caress me again. This is the only baby I shall have.
Oh, Holy Virgin, protect my baby! My little, helpless baby!
He will look like his father, and he will be as fast a runner and as good
a shot. Not that he shall be no scholar neither. He shall go to school
in winter, and learn to read and write, and my father will teach him to carve,
so that he can make the little horses, and cows, and chamois,
out of white wood. Oh, No! No! No! How can I think such things,
I am not good. My father will have nothing to do with my boy,
I shall be an outcast thing. Oh, Mother of our Lord God, be merciful,
take away my shame! Let my body be as it was before he came.
No little baby for me to keep underneath my heart for those long months.
To live for and to get comfort from. I cannot go home and tell my mother.
She is so hard and righteous. She never loved my father, and we were born
for duty, not for love. I cannot face it. Holy Mother, take my baby away!
Take away my little baby! I don't want it, I can't bear it!
And I shall have nothing, nothing! Just be known as a good girl.
Have other men want to marry me, whom I could not touch, after having known
my man. Known the length and breadth of his beautiful white body,
and the depth of his love, on the high Summer Alp, with the moon above,
and the pine-needles all shiny in the light of it. He is gone, my man,
I shall never hear him or feel him again, but I could not touch another.
I would rather lie under the snow with my own man in my arms!
So I shall live on and on. Just a good woman. With nothing to warm my heart
where he lay, and where he left his baby for me to care for. I shall not be
quite human, I think. Merely a stone-dead creature. They will respect me.
What do I care for respect! You didn't care for people's tongues
when you were carrying our Lord Jesus. God had my man give me my baby,
when He knew that He was going to take him away. His lips will comfort me,
his hands will soothe me. All day I will work at my lace-making,
and all night I will keep him warm by my side and pray the blessed Angels
to cover him with their wings. Dear Mother, what is it that sings?
I hear voices singing, and lovely silver trumpets through it all. They seem
just on the other side of the wall. Let me keep my baby, Holy Mother.
He is only a poor lace-maker's baby, with a stain upon him,
but give me strength to bring him up to be a man.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Spring Oracle
OH prophetic bird so bright,
Blossom-songster, cuckoo bight!
In the fairest time of year,
Dearest bird, oh! deign to hear
What a youthful pair would pray,
Do thou call, if hope they may:
Thy cuck-oo, thy cuck-oo.
Ever more cuck-oo, cuck-oo!
Hearest thou? A loving pair
Fain would to the altar fare;
Yes! a pair in happy youth,
Full of virtue, full of truth.
Is the hour not fix'd by fate?
Say, how long must they still wait?
Hark! cuck-oo! hark! cuck-oo!
Silent yet! for shame, cuck-oo!
'Tis not our fault, certainly!
Only two years patient be!
But if we ourselves please here,
Will pa-pa-papas appear?
Know that thou'lt more kindness do us,
More thou'lt prophesy unto us.
One! cuck-oo! Two! cuck-oo!
Ever, ever, cuck-oo, cuck-oo, coo!
If we've calculated clearly,
We have half a dozen nearly.
If good promises we'll give,
Wilt thou say how long we'II live?
Truly, we'll confess to thee,
We'd prolong it willingly.
Coo cuck-oo, coo cuck-oo,
Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo!
Life is one continued feast--
(If we keep no score, at least).
If now we together dwell,
Will true love remain as well?
For if that should e'er decay,
Happiness would pass away.
Coo cuck-oo, coo cuck-oo,
Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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