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Early Morning bar room,1919

English pub by hienbau_photos

Early Morning Bar room,1919

I stared, stupidly, at his head
and the pool of red he bled
from the brass rail down onto
the barroom floor.

Had it been a half an hour
He, so cocksure of his power,
had first set foot
inside the barroom door?

I'd been alone but for the Doc
a Presbyterian Scott
who just come from
a hard delivery.

Mom and child were doing well
but the Doctor looked like hell
so I sat him down
and gave the man some tea.

I 'm the Pub man's assistant
and my job that Winter's morning
was cleaning up the place
for this day's trade.

Had I been out in the snug
I'd have never met this lug
who is lying on the floor
fit for the grave.

I am Irish from Tyrone,
He was from Lancaster-shire.
To his thinking I was
a blight on English soil.

He was spoiling for a fight
which he started with a right
that sent me sprawling
on the barroom floor.

He said 'Get off the floor,
and I'll treat you to some more.'
'You stupid Mick! '
His boon companion smiled.

I'm not one to shun a fight
when I'm firmly in the right
and these arms were toned
by years of quarrying stone.

Was it surprise I saw
when He learned I'm a southpaw.
Satisfying was the sound
of fist on chin.

As he commenced his trip to earth
It was the foot rail caught him first
He cracked his skull
and then he was no more.

His friend ran for the police
as his pulse and breathing ceased
Doc looked up at me and said
'This won't go well'

' Take my bicycle and flee
Off to Scotland, listen to me,
unless you fancy
dancing on the wind.'

So I rode like one possessed
on the narrow winding roads
Early winter darkness
coming down.

After, I worked on dairy farms
and spent three years in the mines.
Eventually, the case grew cold
and went away.

I emigrated to the States
where they too have
their loves and hates
but the Irish are accepted in a way.

poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Luck Of The Irish

Ok, one, two, three, one two, three
If you had the luck of the irish,
You'd be sorry and wish you were dead.
You should have the luck of the irish,
And you'd wish you was english instead.
A thousand years of torture and hunger,
Drove the people away from their land.
A land full of beauty and wonder
Was raped by the british brigands!
Goddamned!
Goddamned!
If you could keep voices like flowers,
There's be shamrock all over the world.
If you could drink dreams like irish streams,
Then the world would be as high as the mountain of morn.
In the 'pool they told us the story
How the english divided the land.
Of the pain and the death and the glory
And the poets of auld eireland.
If we could make chains with the morning dew,
The world would be like galway bay.
Let's walk over rainbows like leprechauns,
The world would be one big blarney stone.
Why the hell are the english there anyway?
As they kill with god on their side!
Blame it all on the kids and the i.r.a.
As the bastards commit genocide!
Aye! aye!
Genocide!
Okay!
You should have the luck of the irish,
You'd be sorry and wish you were dead.
You should have the luck of the irish,
And you'd wish you was english instead.
One more time!
You should have the luck of the irish,
You'd be sorry and wish you were dead.
You should have the luck of the irish,
And you'd wish you was english instead,
Hey, yes, you'd wish you were english instead.
- "thank you!

song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mouse on the Barroom Floor

Some Guinness was spilled on the barroom floor
when the pub was shut for the night.
Out of his hole crept a wee brown mouse
and stood in the pale moonlight.
He lapped up the frothy brew from the floor,
then back on his haunches he sat.
And all night long you could hear him roar,
'Bring on the goddam cat!'

poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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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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Stone Garden

In this still
Winter chill
Upon this sharp
Dewy morn
Beyond the
Broken stone
Path
And the Red
Rose Thorn
Shadows are
Dancing
Still moonlight
'Neath an arched
Vine clad door
I have been
Lying here much
As a cold stone
Upon the winter
Floor
All of this time
Awaited
This path
You and i
Have traveled
Ivy vines have
Grown o'er
Tangled mangled
Raveled
At last though my
Thought empty
As dawns light
Revealed
My faint heart
Beat quickens
From all of the
Years
We've concealed
The cold stone
Has cracked open
For you alone
Planted the seeds
Love it springs
Forth my beloved
A floral Spring
Garden for thee

poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Luck Of The Irish

If you had the luck of the irish
Youd be sorry and wish you were dead
You should have the luck of the irish
And youd wish you was english instead!
A thousand years of torture and hunger
Drove the people away from their land
A land full of beauty and wonder
Was raped by the british brigands! goddamn! goddamn!
If you could keep voices like flowers
Thered be shamrock all over the world
If you could drink dreams like irish streams
Then the world would be high as the mountain of morn
In the pool they told us the story
How the english divided the land
Of the pain, the death and the glory
And the poets of auld eireland
If we could make chains with the morning dew
The world would be like galway bay
Lets walk over rainbows like leprechauns
The world would be one big blarney stone
Why the hell are the english there anyway?
As they kill with God on their side
Blame it all on the kids the ira
As the bastards commit genocide! aye! aye! genocide!
If you had the luck of the irish
Youd be sorry and wish you was dead
You should have the luck of the irish
And youd wish you was english instead!
Yes youd wish you was english instead!

song performed by by Lennon John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Look Who's Dancing

Look who's dancing
Look who's dancing
Look who's dancing now
Look who's dancing
oh look who's dancing
Look who's dancing now
Well, first the dance floor
was like a forbidden land
where people would never dare to go
but now everyone's doing it
I said it's a dance galore
Look who's dancing
Look who's dancing
Look who's dancing now
Look who's dancing
oh look who's dancing
Look who's dancing now
And some are dancing on their feet
some are jumping off the floor
and look at old Granny "B"
she got the, she caught the, she knows the groove for sure
Look who's dancing
Look who's dancing
Look who's dancing now, right around
Look who's dancing
who is dancing
Look who's dancing now, get on the floor
(groove section)
Look who's dancing
Look who's dancing
Look who's dancing now, around the world
Look who's dancing
oh look who's dancing
Look who's dancing now
And some are dancing on their feet
some are jumping off the floor
and look at old Tauter him
he got the, he got the, he got the, he got the beat for sure
Look who's dancing
Look who's dancing
Look who's dancing now
Look who's dancing
check the dancing
Look who's dancing now, get on the floor
(groove section)
Do the ska, the rock steady, the ridim and blues
and if you catch them, then you do the della move
it nuh mek nuh sense to sit down, when you know you can goove
any type of danve you do, you neither win or lose
And if your choice is reggae, you don't need nuh dancing shoes
suh listen to the message, and you know you won't lose
look who come, come dancing pow we dancing floor again
some a dem a enemy, some a dem a friend
Some a dem a mother and father, some a dem a children
some a dem a loafer who a follow the trend
and some a dem a just dey ya as we good brethen
That's why we ruff, ruff, ruff, ruff and rugged
ruff, ruff, ruff, ruff and rugged
ra ra ra ragga muffin
ruff, ruff, ruff, ruff and rugged
That's why we ra ra ragga
that's why we ruff, ruff, ruff, ruff and rugged
ra ra ra ragga muffin
so we ruff, ruff, ruff, ruff and rugged
ra ra ra ragga muffin
that's why we flash certain dancing style, it sound well wicked
if a guy woulda really try, so you know him stupid
exorcism, devilism we nuh deal wid
our faith in jah jah man, it well, well, well solid
so pray every day and ask for strenght and knowledge
that's why we ruff, ruff, ruff, ruff and rugged
that's why we ra ra ra ragga muffin
That's why we ruff, ruff, ruff, ruff and rugged

song performed by by Ziggy Marley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Early In The Morning

Early in the morning and I cant get right
Had a little date with my baby last night
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Now its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to all the places where we used to go
Went to your house but you dont live there no more
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to your friends house but she was out
Knock on your fathers door and he began to shout get out there boy
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to doogie chain to get something to eat
Waiter looked at me and said you sure look beat
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Get Up

Here's to the morning
Think that I'm bored and crazy
Yes I have been to get up when I give in
I need my second wind and I just cant take it anymore
I just cant take it when your lying on the floor
Get up [x4]
Cause I'm bored
Get up [x4]
Get up off the floor
He gets the usual 1,2,3
Ooo ladidadida why'd you hit me
Get up
Cause I'm bored (ya)
Come entertain ya
So stupid its contagious
Mess that I've been
I get up when you get in
It makes more sense to win
I just cant fake it anymore
I just cant it and I heard it all before
Get up [x4]
Cause I'm bored
Get up [x4]
Get up off the floor
He gets the usual 1,2,3
Ooo ladidadida why'd you hit me
Get up
Cause I'm bored
Ohh dont be so dramatic
I know you almost had it
Wohhh
I tried to show you but you wont go down to her
(Get up, get up, get up, now)
Get up off the floor
Get up [x4]
Cause I'm bored
Get up [x4]
Get up off the floor
He gets the usual 1,2,3
Ooo ladidadida why'd you hit me
Get up [x4]
Cause I'm bored (ya)

song performed by by Unwritten Law
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fire On The Mountain

Long distance runner, what you standin there for?
Get up, get out, get out of the door
Your playin cold music on the barroom floor
Drowned in your laughter and dead to the core.
Theres a dragon with matches thats loose on the town
Takes a whole pail of water just to cool him down.
Fire! fire on the mountain!
Almost ablaze still you dont feel the heat
It takes all you got just to stay on the beat.
You say its a livin, we all gotta eat
But youre here alone, theres no one to compete.
If mercys a busness, I wish it for you
More than just ashes when your dreams come true.
Fire! fire on the mountain!
Long distance runner, what you holdin out for?
Caught in slow motion in a dash for the door.
The flame from your stage has now spread to the floor
You gave all you had. why you wanna give more?
The more that you give, the more it will take
To the thin line beyond which you really cant fake.
Fire! fire on the mountain!

song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Coward Of The County

(roger bowling/billy edd wheeler)
Evryone considered him the coward of the county.
Hed never stood one single time to prove the county wrong.
His mama named him tommy, the folks just called him yellow,
But something always told me they were reading tommy wrong.
He was only ten years old when his daddy died in prison.
I looked after tommy cause he was my brothers son.
I still recall the final words my brother said to tommy:
Son, my life is over, but yours is just begun.
Promise me, son, not to do the things Ive done.
Walk away from trouble if you can.
It wont mean youre weak if you turn the other cheek.
I hope youre old enough to understand:
Son, you dont have to fight to be a man.
Theres someone for evryone and tommys love was becky.
In her arms he didnt have to prove he was a man.
One day while he was workin the gatlin boys came callin.
They took turns at becky.... there was three of them!
Tommy opened up the door and saw his becky cryin.
The torn dress, the shattered look was more than he could stand.
He reached above the fireplace and took down his daddys picture.
As his tears fell on his daddys face, he heard these words again:
Promise me, son, not to do the things Ive done.
Walk away from trouble if you can.
It wont mean youre weak if you turn the other cheek.
I hope youre old enough to understand:
Son, you dont have to fight to be a man.
The gatlin boys just laughed at him when he walked into the barroom.
One of them got up and met him halfway cross the floor.
When tommy turned around they said, hey look! ol yellows leavin.
But you coulda heard a pin drop when tommy stopped and blocked the door.
Twenty years of crawlin was bottled up inside him.
He wasnt holdin nothin back; he let em have it all.
When tommy left the barroom not a gatlin boy was standin.
He said, this ones for becky, as he watched the last one fall.
And I heard him say,
I promised you, dad, not to do the things you done.
I walk away from trouble when I can.
Now please dont think Im weak, I didnt turn the other cheek,
And papa, I sure hope you understand:
Sometimes you gotta fight when youre a man.
Evryone considered him the coward of the county.

song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Three Flights Up

On the first floor On the first floor
On the first floor there's a young girl reeling
Her body's numb and without feeling
As illusions dance on the midnight ceiling
Now she's falling, now she's kneeling
It's almost like she's bowed in prayer
A savior she's about to bear
She screams for help, but no one's there
On the first floor
On the first floor people walk the halls
But none can hear her desperate calls
There is no sound beyond the walls
So to the telephone she crawls
She telephones her only friend
The one on whom she can depend
But the phone rings on without an end
Then rings no moreOn the first floor
There's a party on the second floor
And through the picture window you can see them all
They're laughing and they're dancing
Admiring the Renoir that's hanging on the wall
But in the master bedroom where the coats are piled high
A silent, saddened lady thinks of what it's like to die
And as she dwells on all the years she still has left to face
She wonders how she'll ever find someone to take his place
Then suddenly she's jarred by the ringing of the phone
Oh, why do you ring now, just when I want to be alone?
So she walks into the bathroom and drinks some water from a cup
But the telephone stops ringing just before she picks it up
My family was very poor
So I worked hard to be secure
I married one I had to wed
And not the one I loved instead
When I was young my blood ran wild
But we stayed married for the child
Now three flights up, I'm all alone
My wife is dead, my child is grown
My daughter leads a wayward life
She's been a failure as a wife
And though she lives just one floor down
She never calls or comes around
Step off the platform and onto the train
Look out your window and into the rain
Watch all the buildings that pass as you ride
And count all the stories that go on inside
And then ask yourself if it must be this way
Should walls and doors and plaster ceilings
Separate us from each others' feelings?

song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Beautiful Reward

Well I sought gold and diamond rings
My own drug to ease the pain that living brings
Walked from the mountain to the valley floor
Searching for my beautiful reward
Searching for my beautiful reward
From a house on a hill a sacred light shines
I walk through these rooms but none of them are mine
Down empty hallways I went from door to door
Searching for my beautiful reward
Searching for my beautiful reward
Well your hair shone in the sun
I was so high I was the lucky one
Then I came crashing down like a drunk on a barroom floor
Searching for my beautiful reward
Searching for my beautiful reward
Tonight I can feel the cold wind at my back
Im flyin high over gray fields my feathers long and black
Down along the rivers silent edge I soar
Searching for my beautiful reward
Searching for my beautiful reward

song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost August

‘No, it’s not that I want to be awkward’,
He began, as he stifled a sigh,
‘Though I don’t understand your intentions,
And I’m not even going to try,
I will bow to your final decision
In this, as in all we have done,
Only, please try to show me some kindness
As the man you once loved for your own.’

She looked from the living room window
Her arms tightly crossed at the breast,
Her back was so sternly toward him
That he feared for the worst, (and the best) ,
‘There once was a time, ’ then she halted,
Some things were left better unsaid,
Then she sighed, ‘Well, it’s just for one Christmas...
Then she snarled, ‘But I wish you were dead.’

And he smiled, as she turned back to face him
In that wistful expression of old,
Where his mouth turned the corners up lightly
But his eyes cried their hurt in the cold.
‘Yes, it’s only for Christmas I’m asking
With our children again at the last,
I’ll be gone with the wind in the morning,
Just a memory drift in your past.’

Then he felt that he should have said something
So he muttered I’m sorry… and that’,
And he turned down his gaze to the carpet,
And he felt for his old, beaten hat.
‘Don’t go... would you care for a coffee...’
She haltingly started to say,
As he fumbled his hat in confusion
To nod his familiar way.

‘If you’d rather I went, ’ he said quickly,
‘I know this is painful for you....’
‘Don't be soft, ’ said his wife from the kitchen,
‘It’s long since I felt owt for you...’
‘If you’d only been more of a husband,
Or more of a father to them...
‘Yes, I know, ’ and he painfully nodded,
And stared at the carpet again.

‘Well, you’ll sleep on the floor, in the study,
And I don't want you wandering round,
I’ve a man, as you know, that I sleep with,
And I won’t have him feeling put down.’
Then the hurt of his glance must have touched her,
‘Well, I’m sorry, but that’s how it is,
Either sleep in the study…’ he nodded,
And accepted with grace his defeat.

‘As a matter of interest’, she started,
As she carried the tray through the door,
‘Where on earth did you go... back in August
(He just smiled at some point on the floor) .
‘Was it some fancy woman you wanted
While I spent the nights sitting alone,
Spent the days in a panic, and staring
In the hopes that you’d write, or you’d phone? ’

‘I’m sorry, ’ he muttered, ‘I’m sorry,
I know it was terribly wrong...
As he sat huddled up in the corner,
(And he’d once been so straight and so strong) ,
So strong and so young and romantic,
So faithful as well... she appeared
Once again in the line of his vision
With the slightest veiled hint of a sneer.

‘I’ll be off then, I’ll see you on Sunday, ’
Then he rushed through the door and was gone
And the tears welled again at her eyelids
As she felt so adrift and alone.
‘What is done has been done and forgotten,
I’m soft for the beggar, I know.’
Then the children rushed in at the doorway...
‘Was that Daddy we saw up the road? ’

On the night before Christmas, a shadow
Slid wearily up to the door,
And the head was both bowed and defeated,
And the coat was both ragged and torn,
But she hid the distaste as she took it
And noticed how aged he’d become,
As he went to the study in silence,
And she went to her bed with her man.

He emerged at the break of the dawning
Midst the cries of delight at the tree,
And he basked in their love and attention
As he balanced them both on his knee.
But his wife was a trifle distracted
For her man wouldn't come, at the last,
‘I’ll be gone with the wind...’ he repeated,
‘Just a memory drift in your past.’

And he’d gone as he’d promised, when morning
Saw all the festivities done,
With the love and regrets of his children
And a last, loving kiss for his son...
‘Yes it’s only for Christmas I’m asking
With our children again at the last, ’
He was gone with the wind in the morning,
Just a memory drift in her past.

But the New Year was carelessly breaking
And the memories slipping away
When the police brought the news in the morning
That he’d died on the previous day.
‘Do you mean that he’d kept it a secret,
I’ll be damned, ’ said the Sergeant again,
‘He knew he was riddled with cancer,
What a man, what a man among men! ’

So she cried… but it wasn’t in anger,
Just the soft, helpless cry of defeat...
Did he think it would be any better,
Did he think he could temper her grief?
‘As a matter of interest, ’ she’d started
As she’d carried the tray through the door,
‘Where on earth did you go back in August...
He’d just smiled at a point on the floor.

Now whenever she passes her lover
They both turn their faces away,
He went back to his job in munitions
And his wife, it was better that way...
If he’d only been more of a husband,
Or more of a father, she’d said,
And she’d sighed, ‘Well it’s just for one Christmas...
And she’d snarled, ‘But I wish you were dead! ’

And he’d smiled as she’d turned back to face him
In that wistful expression of old,
Where his mouth turned the corners up lightly
But his eyes cried their hurt in the cold.
‘Yes, it’s only for Christmas I’m asking
With our children again, at the last,
I’ll be gone with the wind in the morning,
Just a memory drift in your past.’

21 September 1974

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

A man looked down at his dog on the floor
and he wondered why
the dog was content to sleep on the floor
or wherever he would lie?
So the man got down on the floor to sleep
and found he was wide awake.
His back was sore and the rest of him
turned into one big ache.
The dog awoke and looked at the man,
then slept in the man's chair.
The man looked up at the dog and knew
that dog could sleep anywhere.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Brass Rail

Foot on the rail in the olden days,
For all the world to see,
A jolly old lot, they took their pot
All unashamed and free,
Passing their jest from lip to lip,
Puffing away the foam,
Till a small voice cried from the path outside:
'Ma says, you're to come on home.'

Foot on the rail they faced the world
And cared not who should know;
And many they went, thro' a life mis-spent
As man a man must go
Straight to the dogs from the old brass rail,
Lost and ruined and wrecked:
But he went to his fate with the game played straight:
And he went with his head erect.

Then came the camel, with his lip adroop,
Calling an end to fun.
Tho' his cause was strong, his way was wrong,
And his task was most ill done.
Turning a man to a furtive sneak,
Stealing by ways obscure,
Bad if you will was the old, old ill;
But worse by far was the cure.

Oh, man will sin as his fathers sinned
Since ever this world was made;
But, if he must sin, then let him sin
In the open, unafraid;
Foot on the old brass rail again
For all the world to see.
A jolly old lot who takes his tot
All unashamed and free.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Foot Out The Door

I grabbed that telephone
I thought we were alone
Telling me theres company
Your husbands comin home
Ive been thinking about this saturday night with you
Ive been thinking about it all week long
And now Im gonna lose it cause that
Son-of-a-bitch got me singin that same old song
Got one foot out the door
Tryin to hit the road
Aint no match for your mean old man
I think its time to roll
Got one foot out the door
Got one foot out the door
Think Im gonna fight him?
Dont you let him put down
Put that to the floor
Put the pedal to the metal
And you beat it out of town
No comin back, back for more

song performed by by Van Halen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lament For Tall People (Fun Poem 11)

The world is filled with short people,
who forget there are tall people like me.
For when they build a door of six foot,
they forget all about the poor old persons,
who are only a short six foot three.
To get in and out I have to duck,
or get a lump on my forehead,
seeing stars in the process,
while I am picking myself off the floor.
It is either that or its down on my hands and knees,
to crawl in and out the door.
Oh, now that may sound funny I agree.
However, it is not so funny if you are a short tall person like me.
So to all those short builder out there,
remember when you measure seven foot,
that your tape measure is not a foot off the floor.
I went to a fortune teller,
to have the bumps on my head read.
She said, “Avoid low doors,
as there are too many bumps there to be read.”
So all you short builders take note of what I said.
Raise the top of the door,
so I can stop bumping my head.

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On The Floor

[verse]
The bed gives
Cupboard might break underneath you
Hard as I try
The table might shake
Could break a leg when I do what I do
I'm all about mine

[chorus]
Consider the love we made
When pleasure can be found
In and all around
The right place is on the floor
Why don't we get down on the floor
I won't leave you wanting for more
If we get down on the floor
On the floor

[verse]
Comfortable spot
When I get you hot
A place to lay your head
Was it Socrates who said
Good to the last drop

song performed by by Brian McKnight from I Remember You
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strange But True 2 - Footsteps On The Stairs

I was a store man in an engineering factory,
during the early 1960’s when this story took place.
The company had rented and old tailor shop
as an extra storeroom just down the road.
It was time to do a stock take,
in the shop there on my own.
I had been in the building many times before on my own.
That day seemed no exception.
The building had three floors,
the ground floor, and the first floor
where I would be working and the second floor,
which had at one time been a flat.
I was seventeen at the time.

Therefore, I began my work
and began counting the stock,
when from the floor above I could hear
what sounded like a woman’s shoes
pacing around on the wooden floor.
My heart began to beat faster,
as I knew I was the only one in the building.
I said to myself if whatever it was
began to descend the stairs, I was going to be gone.
Then it happened,
my dread.
The footsteps reached the stairs
and began to descend.
I dropped what I was doing,
and down to the ground floor ran.
Once outside I locked the only entrance door
and ran back to the factory,
swearing I would not go back there anymore.
A supervisor saw the fear within me.
It took him an hour to calm me down.

He finally persuaded me
to accompany him back to the shop,
so he could prove to me that there was nothing there.
We would search the shop from top to bottom.
I reluctantly agreed.
The first floor that we checked was the one
where I heard the noise.
It was an empty space;
there was nothing there at all,
only wooden floorboards covered with a layer of dust.
No footprints to indicate someone had been walking there.
Everywhere we searched,
but nothing could we find.
Eventually he said what I heard was only in my mind.
A couple of months went by
and a story about the shop emerged.
A young woman had hung herself
on that floor many years before.
Now you may think the story is over now,
and you would be wrong.

Every year in the summer,
we would have some students come to work during their college break
the following year was with no exception.
The two that came were in my charge
and had to move some stock within the tailor shop.
I had to go back to the factory
and would check back on them in a half an hour.
When I returned I found them cowering in the corner.
They accused me of never leaving,
that I would not answer when they called.
I just kept walked about trying to scare them there.
They did not know what I had experienced on that floor,
nor did they know the story of the woman.
The building is no longer there,
pulled down and replaced with offices many years ago.
The mystery remains. Was what I heard made up in my mind?
If this is the case, what did a year later,
did those two students hear?

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Treat Me Gently In The Morning

She remembers the night they first were alone
When he took her home and he said,
I need you, wont you stay?
And all through the night his eyes had a light
That burned very bright and she hoped
His words werent well read lines
A little ill at ease she whispered baby, please
Treat me gently in the morning
Take my heart but stay with me
Treat me gently in the morning, please
Her mamma said, silly girl you should marry him or leave
Hell only make you grieve when he decides its over
Wake up child
But the years fell away, they grew closer they found
Though they had their ups and downs just like lovers do
Still shed say, its okay to fight, when were alone late at night
Ill always say
Treat me gently in the morning
Take my heart but stay with me
Treat me gently in the morning, please
It all went so fast one day he went away
He said st. tropez but he died that winter in a plane
The last thing he sent was a postcard from rome
It read, Im coming home, lady, I love you
And under his name was a p.s. that read
Very simply it said
Treat me gently in the morning
I cant live another night
Treat me gently in the morning
Ill be on that plane tonight

song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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