A Cup of Tea After Dad`s Death
Exactly the right colour, the perfect amount of milk
one of Mum`s specials, as we gathered round the table
in the kitchen and put the pictures together,
the blue lights and the friendly doctor, who asked
what to do with his dressing gown.
Well it was rather a nice one said Mum.
Then it all went quiet, too late to go to bed,
too early to get up.
poem by Leslie Philibert
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A perfect Pearl
my run away desire
the devil asks me
to go out, to have fun
and above all - eat
this when i am
not at all hungry
in fact bloated
another day of routine
it is too early
for me
sometimes
noon is too early
for food
it is another day
the devil is drivng
at me with his
sharpened chisels
'no no no
i would rather be
in the clam
enamoured
in quiet
contemplation
in the realm
of God if that
is not too mushy
for your ears.'
i tell the devil
'every of my
prayers, ' i add
'the becomes
a layer of
luminous
rainbow lucre
to seize the day'
how nice it will
be, to be
a perfect pearl
rolling around
someone's heart
listening to her
secret wishes
and help layer
her dream
and goals
with perfect
poise, grace
and confidence
round the clock!
rewritten from
my run away desire
the devil asks me
to go out, to have fun
and above all - eat
this when i am
not at all hungry
in fact bloated
another day of routine
it is too early
for me
sometimes
noon is too early
for food
it is another day
the devil is drivng
at me with his
sharpened chisels
'no no no
i would rather be
in the clam
enamoured
in quiet
contemplation
in the realm
of God if that
is not too mushy
for your ears.'
i tell the devil
'every of my
prayers, ' i add
'is a layer of
luminous
rainbow lucre
to seize the day'
how nice it will
be to be a
perfect pearl
rolling and
dangling round
someone's heart
and be a perfect
companion of graces
round the clock!
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Nature Has Donned Her Dressing Gown
Snow is falling all around
like the shaking from a heavenly sieve while
Nature has donned her dressing gown.
Silently, it cascades down
for one and all to see, and smile
Snow is falling all around.
The beauty has arrived in our little town,
And all around the countryside for miles
Nature has donned her dressing gown.
Miss Kitty peers from the snowy mound
leaping and prancing like a ballet dancer, while
Snow is falling all around.
The pond is shimmering on level ground
the reflection of her majesty, she styles
Nature has donned her dressing gown.
There is not even heard a faint sound
As she hurries down the miles
Snow is falling all around
Nature has donned her dressing gown.
(12/17/08)
(Style - Villanelle)
poem by Doris McGohon
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I Better Be Good
If I ain't cool
My daddy gonna send me
To Military School
If I ain't nice
My girlie gonna freeze me
With cold shoulder ice
If I'm real late
My teacher gonna use me
For alligator bait
So, I better be good
I better be good
If I jump on the gas
The cops are gonna jump
All over my back
If I smoke too much
Doctor says he's gonna
Put my lungs in a crutch
If I'm caught without my pants
Consuelo's dad is gonna shoot
Until he sees me dance
So, I better be good
I had better be good
You better be nice
You better be nice
You better be nice
You better be nice
Nice, nice, nice - you better be
Nice, nice, nice - you better be
Nice, nice, nice - Uh, uh, uh, uh
Nice, nice, nice
Nice, nice, nice
Nice, nice, nice
You better be nice tonight
If I spray it on the seat
Lady gonna tie a big knot
In the meat
If I spewey too fast
Lover's gonna stick
My Wrangler in a cast
If zipper grabs skin
I'll know I had it out
When I shoulda kept it in
Ow.
I better be good
I better be good
I better be good
Ooh.
You better be nice
You better be nice
You better be nice
You better be nice
Nice, nice, nice - you better be
Nice, nice, nice - you better be
Nice, nice, nice - Uh, uh, uh, uh
Nice, nice, nice
I'd better be nice tonight - yeah
Nice, nice, nice
Nice, nice, nice
Nice, nice, nice
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I like blue
I like blue
and my motorbike is that colour
and some of the clothes that I wear.
If I am happy,
my eyes changes colour from grey
to bright blue.
The lavender bushes in our garden,
are rather blue
than purple to me.
When the sun sets behind the hillock
there’s a wonderful scent in the early evening air,
that comes from the blue bushes.
a Blue sky with a hot sun
can do miracles to me
and I cannot get enough of summer,
but Monday or any other day
must please stay away
from that colour.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Dressing Up
Going under slowly
It never seems too late
Going under so slow
Dressing up to kiss
Dressing up to touch all this
I'm dressing up to dance all week
I'm dressing up to sleep
Dressing up to kiss
Dressing up to be all this
I could eat your face
I could eat all of you
Oh this night will never let me go...
Going under slowly
Never seems too late
Going under slow
You'll pick me up again
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soup of day
She said severely:
“God have said: the soup must be warm! ”
It was a Gazpacho, a cold soup to a warm evening.
I have mixed tomatos, cucumbers,
red and green peppers,
red onions, a few garlics,
a few parsleys and coriander.
This soup had a beautiful colour: red and green! green and red!
It was cold, very cold, iced.
I have warmed up her soup
I have grilled also some scallops
with a pistachio dressing
she said:
“It is delightful mostly the orange and red parts.”
It was only a question of colours
I have dreamt at a blue gazpacho, blue scallops
Blue like the sea but the sea is never blue
and the blue is not a tasty colour.
Then we have recited some french poems
This evening was quiet and tender
despite the heat wave.
I like to remember this iced soup
and the awful warmth.
poem by Jean Francois Le Goff
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Doctor, Doctor
Doctor, theres something wrong with me
My health is not all that it used to be
My heart is out of beat, I got chokers on my feet
My eyesights getting dimmer, I cant see
Doctor thanks for seeing me today, Im glad,
Ive got every sickness there is to be had
I had whooping cough last month
And today Ive got the mumps
And tomorrow Ill catch chicken pox as well.
Doctor doctor doctor make me well
Ive not got long to go now I can tell
Doctor doctor doctor make me well
Ive not got long to go I can tell
Ive not got long to go I can tell
Those pills I took have no effect at all
Just the other day I had a nasty fall
And I think I broke my jaw when it hit the kitchen floor
And Im shrinking last week I was five foot four
Ive been getting shivers lately, is it flu?
I know the bug is going round, what can I do?
Its about to pick on me, Ive still got the other three
Do you think I caught smallpox Id get flu?
[chorus]
Do you think its time that I made out my will?
Ill leave everything to you to pay my bill
Just how long is there to go
Please tell me I want to know
But on second thoughts dont tell me, Im too ill.
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Perfect Sister
MY PERFECT SISTER
My perfect sister holds me tight
My perfect sister kisses me goodnight
My perfect sister knows when I’m mad
My perfect sister helps me when I’m sad
My perfect sister is so smart
My perfect sister has my heart
My perfect sister is good and nice
My perfect sister holds me at night
My perfect sister loves me lots
My perfect sister ties the knot
My perfect sister is here to stay
My perfect sister I have until this very day
My perfect sister I wish you well
My perfect sister yes I can tell
My perfect sister asked if I lied
My perfect sister knows if I’ve cried
My perfect sister has moved away
->My perfect sister is in my heart to and will always stay
poem by Megan Sandifer
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Shopaholic Prize Specials
Shopaholic
sweat compulsive
shopper
what is this
the secret
of thy smile?
Shop new late Friday
night specials
obtain prize specials
sleep blissfully happy
for the weekend
much better than some
who do not ever enjoy
their weekend special time
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Green and blue
Green and blue
First-named of colours believe these two.
They first of colours by men were seen
This grass colour, tree colour,
Sky colour, sea colour,
Magic-named, mystic-souled, blue and green.
Later came
Small subtle colours like tongues of flame,
Small jewel colours for treasure trove,
Not fruit colour, flower colour,
Cloud colour, shower colour,
But purple, amethyst, violet and mauve.
These remain,
Two broad fair colours for our larger gain
Stretched underfoot or spreading wide on high,
Green beech colour, vine colour,
Gum colour, pine colour,
Blue of the noonday and the moonlit sky.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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Round the Clock Companion of Grace
how nice it is to be a perfect pearl
rolling round someone's heart
listening to her secret wishes and
be a perfect companion of grace
basking in the charms of her spirits
vitality and vivacious endowments
how nice it is to be a perfect pearl
rolling round someone's heart
listening to her secret wishes and
be a perfect companion of grace
round the clock to help her make her day
how nice it is to be a perfect pearl
rolling round someone's heart
listening to her secret wishes and
be a perfect companion of grace
round the clock to make up for her day
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Doctor My Eyes
Doctor, my eyes have seen the years
And the slow parade of fears without crying
Now I want to understand
I have done all that I could
To see the evil and the good without hiding
You must help me if you can
Doctor, my eyes
Tell me what is wrong
Was I unwise to leave them open for so long
'Cause I have wandered through this world
And as each moment has unfurled
I've been waiting to awaken from these dreams
People go just where they will
I never noticed them until I got this feeling
That it's later than it seems
Doctor, my eyes
Tell me what you see
I hear their cries
Just say if it's too late for me
Is it too late
Is it too late for me
Tell me doctor
Doctor, my eyes
Cannot see the sky
Is this the price for having learned how not to cry
song performed by by Wilson Phillips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dusk
Clouds gathered in the southwest
Hastening the early darkness
Given to this early time of the year
A few flitting silhouettes
Of birds flashing by..
Nest-bound...
Book placed gently
Atop end table
Reading glasses placed
Gently atop book
Lights left unlit…
Gaze fixed out the window
Blanket of night’s darkness
Tucked tight under chin
poem by David Whalen
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(Growing Pains) Blue
Blue was his colour, he always said. Went with his ice-blue Michael Caine eyes.
Midnight blue velvet suit, in the seventies, their twenties. (She stroking nightly its nap as they sat on her hard two-seater sofa, until he exposed the smooth contrast of the skin beneath.)
His wedding suit a sky-blue linen creation. (Her parents late to the ceremony, she, tearstained at the flower-decked registry office table, hearing her mother breathe, ”Isn’t he beautiful”)
Cerulean and cobalt shirts in the eighties (pure cotton, hell to iron, but hell, she was still in love.)
Prussian blue golf shoes and an ultramarine Armani fleece in the nineties, as far as she could recall.
He bought her a cloud-blue Honda car to do the shopping in, just before she decided to head off into the blue.
In it, she struck out on a polychrome adventure, alone, drove towards the lurid sunset to look for gold at the end of her rainbow.
When they met again, she saw that at some point his eyes had faded to grey, along with their hair.
Blue was still his colour.
poem by Janice Windle
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Invocation II
COME to-night in a dream to-night,
Come as you used to do,
Come in the gown, in the gown of white,
Come in the ribbon of blue;
Come in the virgin's colours you wear,
Come through the dark and the dew,
Come with the scent of the night in your hair,
Come as you used to do.
Blue and white of your eyes and your face,
White of your gown and blue,
Will you not come from the happy place,
Come as you used to do?
Tears so many, so many tears
Where there were once so few--
Can they not wash the gray of the years
From the white of your gown and blue?
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Our Dreams
Your colour is red and my colour is blue,
But one day i will stop cooking and watch you at the kitchen;
And like the shepherds who never watched their flocks by night,
For the cold nights of love is with the care of our dreams!
But i can smeel a rat from afar.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Recollection - First Poetic Impulse
my first poetic impulse
was in my pre school days
i must have been only four
years old lying sweet on the
kitchen floor one fine morning
sucking on my milk bottle
out on the tip of a pointed roof
a magpie had gathered itself
comfortably and started singing
its heart out to the sun just beginning
to warm up the new day
its song was edged like the roof
pointed here and there
in the rhythm and fractured tone
of a disconcerted soul
complaining all the world's
injustices to the heavens
like a chirpy woman crying mad about
poor treatments of her in laws
it sang for so long i was
provoked to ask the bird
what it was pining all about
about the black and white
of its days?
i asked and it sang
i asked and it sang
beak pointed to the sky
i asked and it sang
i asked and it sang
until it thought it was done
and flew away without a note
leaving a trail of silence and
melancholy on an empty
roof, the morning and -
an unrequited heart
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Talk Over Tea.
Janice's gran
had left the room
to fetch another
pot of tea
and Janice said
Are you coming on
the day trip to the seaside?
I'm not sure
you replied
Oh please do
Janice said
Then we can be together
and I won't have to spend time
with those giggly girls
from the gospel group
you looked at her fair hair
and the way her eyes
were on you
and how precise
her lips were
when she spoke
I'm not sure my parents
can afford it
you said
Oh it's free for kids
whose parents are poor
she said
And after all
it's part of the point
of the whole thing
to show Christian values
and so on
and she smiled
and put her hand
on yours
under the table
as her gran came in
with the teapot
What are you two
talking about?
Gran asked
putting the teapot
down on the table
Janice's hand
squeezed yours
under the table
Oh just about the day trip
to the seaside
Janice said
Are you going too?
her gran asked you
you hesitated
and then said
Yes I think so
and Janice looked at you
her blue eyes bright
and she said
Isn't that good Gran?
Yes indeed
her gran said
and poured tea
into your cup
and added milk
and sugar
and Janice's hand
left yours
and the absence
of the warmth
of her hand
felt like
a dying world
in a vast galaxy
or drowning
in a deep blue sea.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Dormouse and the Doctor
There once was a Dormouse who lived in a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red),
And all the day long he'd a wonderful view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).
A Doctor came hurrying round, and he said:
"Tut-tut, I am sorry to find you in bed.
Just say 'Ninety-nine' while I look at your chest....
Don't you find that chrysanthemums answer the best?"
The Dormouse looked round at the view and replied
(When he'd said "Ninety-nine") that he'd tried and he'd tried,
And much the most answering things that he knew
Were geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).
The Doctor stood frowning and shaking his head,
And he took up his shiny silk hat as he said:
"What the patient requires is a change," and he went
To see some chrysanthemum people in Kent.
The Dormouse lay there, and he gazed at the view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue),
And he knew there was nothing he wanted instead
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).
The Doctor came back and, to show what he meant,
He had brought some chrysanthemum cuttings from Kent.
"Now these," he remarked, "give a much better view
Than geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue)."
They took out their spades and they dug up the bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red),
And they planted chrysanthemums (yellow and white).
"And now," said the Doctor, "we'll soon have you right."
The Dormouse looked out, and he said with a sigh:
"I suppose all these people know better than I.
It was silly, perhaps, but I did like the view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue)."
The Doctor came round and examined his chest,
And ordered him Nourishment, Tonics, and Rest.
"How very effective," he said, as he shook
The thermometer, "all these chrysanthemums look!"
The Dormouse turned over to shut out the sight
Of the endless chrysanthemums (yellow and white).
"How lovely," he thought, "to be back in a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red.)"
The Doctor said, "Tut! It's another attack!"
And ordered him Milk and Massage-of-the-back,
And Freedom-from-worry and Drives-in-a-car,
And murmured, "How sweet your chrysanthemums are!"
The Dormouse lay there with his paws to his eyes,
And imagined himself such a pleasant surprise:
"I'll pretend the chrysanthemums turn to a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red)!"
The Doctor next morning was rubbing his hands,
And saying, "There's nobody quite understands
These cases as I do! The cure has begun!
How fresh the chrysanthemums look in the sun!"
The Dormouse lay happy, his eyes were so tight
He could see no chrysanthemums, yellow or white.
And all that he felt at the back of his head
Were delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).
And that is the reason (Aunt Emily said)
If a Dormouse gets in a chrysanthemum bed,
You will find (so Aunt Emily says) that he lies
Fast asleep on his front with his paws to his eyes.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Broken: Blue
... silvered-fish thoughts, blue-shimmered, lithe,
too mercurial to voice, this grief, nimble
blue- shimmer; the sky can take your breath
cold mornings, cloud weft, white rift
in bright October sunlight, leaf-dapple,
silvered-fish thoughts, blue-shimmered, lithe,
sour milk-thistle grief cannot be wept
into the nutshell of a silver thimble,
this blue-shimmer; a sky can take your breath
like a silver perch catches sun-shift
and your heart stops; a grief throbs your left temple,
silvered-fish thoughts, blue-shimmered, lithe,
swimming round and round and round, fretted-
blue-shimmer of this glass globe, trembling
blue edge of a sky that can take your breath,
of a grief that cannot be wept, swept
into kitchen corners, the pulse of your left temple,
quicksilvered-fish thoughts, blue-shimmered, lithe-
blue drenching the sky, drowning, this blue breath...
poem by Melissa Morphew
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