English Eclogues II - The Grandmother's Tale
JANE.
Harry! I'm tired of playing. We'll draw round
The fire, and Grandmamma perhaps will tell us
One of her stories.
HARRY.
Aye--dear Grandmamma!
A pretty story! something dismal now;
A bloody murder.
JANE.
Or about a ghost.
GRANDMOTHER.
Nay, nay, I should but frighten you. You know
The other night when I was telling you
About the light in the church-yard, how you trembled
Because the screech-owl hooted at the window,
And would not go to bed.
JANE.
Why Grandmamma
You said yourself you did not like to hear him.
Pray now! we wo'nt be frightened.
GRANDMOTHER.
Well, well, children!
But you've heard all my stories. Let me see,--
Did I never tell you how the smuggler murdered
The woman down at Pill?
HARRY.
No--never! never!
GRANDMOTHER.
Not how he cut her head off in the stable?
HARRY.
Oh--now! do tell us that!
GRANDMOTHER.
You must have heard
Your Mother, children! often tell of her.
She used to weed in the garden here, and worm
Your uncle's dogs, and serve the house with coal;
And glad enough she was in winter time
To drive her asses here! it was cold work
To follow the slow beasts thro' sleet and snow,
And here she found a comfortable meal
And a brave fire to thaw her, for poor Moll
Was always welcome.
HARRY.
Oh--'twas blear-eyed Moll
The collier woman,--a great ugly woman,
I've heard of her.
GRANDMOTHER.
Ugly enough poor soul!
At ten yards distance you could hardly tell
If it were man or woman, for her voice
Was rough as our old mastiff's, and she wore
A man's old coat and hat,--and then her face!
There was a merry story told of her,
How when the press-gang came to take her husband
As they were both in bed, she heard them coming,
Drest John up in her night-cap, and herself
Put on his clothes and went before the Captain.
JANE.
And so they prest a woman!
GRANDMOTHER.
'Twas a trick
She dearly loved to tell, and all the country
Soon knew the jest, for she was used to travel
For miles around. All weathers and all hours
She crossed the hill, as hardy as her beasts,
Bearing the wind and rain and winter frosts,
And if she did not reach her home at night
She laid her down in the stable with her asses
And slept as sound as they did.
HARRY.
With her asses!
GRANDMOTHER.
Yes, and she loved her beasts. For tho' poor wretch
She was a terrible reprobate and swore
Like any trooper, she was always good
To the dumb creatures, never loaded them
Beyond their strength, and rather I believe
Would stint herself than let the poor beasts want,
Because, she said, they could not ask for food.
I never saw her stick fall heavier on them
Than just with its own weight. She little thought
This tender-heartedness would be her death!
There was a fellow who had oftentimes,
As if he took delight in cruelty.
Ill-used her Asses. He was one who lived
By smuggling, and, for she had often met him
Crossing the down at night, she threatened him,
If he tormented them again, to inform
Of his unlawful ways. Well--so it was--
'Twas what they both were born to, he provoked her,
She laid an information, and one morn
They found her in the stable, her throat cut
From ear to ear,'till the head only hung
Just by a bit of skin.
JANE.
Oh dear! oh dear!
HARRY.
I hope they hung the man!
GRANDMOTHER.
They took him up;
There was no proof, no one had seen the deed,
And he was set at liberty. But God
Whoss eye beholdeth all things, he had seen
The murder, and the murderer knew that God
Was witness to his crime. He fled the place,
But nowhere could he fly the avenging hand
Of heaven, but nowhere could the murderer rest,
A guilty conscience haunted him, by day,
By night, in company, in solitude,
Restless and wretched, did he bear upon him
The weight of blood; her cries were in his ears,
Her stifled groans as when he knelt upon her
Always he heard; always he saw her stand
Before his eyes; even in the dead of night
Distinctly seen as tho' in the broad sun,
She stood beside the murderer's bed and yawn'd
Her ghastly wound; till life itself became
A punishment at last he could not bear,
And he confess'd it all, and gave himself
To death, so terrible, he said, it was
To have a guilty conscience!
HARRY.
Was he hung then?
GRANDMOTHER.
Hung and anatomized. Poor wretched man,
Your uncles went to see him on his trial,
He was so pale, so thin, so hollow-eyed,
And such a horror in his meagre face,
They said he look'd like one who never slept.
He begg'd the prayers of all who saw his end
And met his death with fears that well might warn
From guilt, tho' not without a hope in Christ.
poem by Robert Southey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Grandmother Told Me So
The declaration has been spoken,
For Grandmother told me so.
The darkeys have got their fetlocks broken,
For Grandmother told me so.
Oh, won't they have a lot of iron on hand!
And when the news travels,
Oh, won't it be grand!
'Twill sweep like a sugarcane over the land,
For Grandmother told me so.
American Eagle! hysterical bird!
Oh, flap your wing and crow!
The slaves are embellished--yes, that's the word,
For Grandmother told me so!
There's curious times in that ur section,
For Grandmother told me so.
They think they will have a resurrection,
For Grandmother told me so.
The penholders raving like persons insane --
The darkeys in exodus, raising cane,
And singing like martingales after a rain,
For Grandmother told me so.
But President Abe forgot Kentucky,
For Grandmother told me so.
And Geneses, too -- and that's unlucky,
For Grandmother told me so.
Malicious champagne will be open'd in vain,
Until we shall break the last ox-yoke and chain --
Till through the Benighted States freedom shall reign,
For Grandmother told me so.
poem by Henry Clay Work
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poem for my Grandmother
By the time
I knew grandmother
She was no more
It took sisteen-years
To know
Of her pains
On that sick bed,
My sisteen-year-old
Knowingness was shocked
To hear mum narrate her past
Grandmother as indeed a great
Woman n her life time.
Each time I go to her grave
I break down and cried for her,
I wish grandmother saw
The best of me
Before she was taken to the beyond
I know she would be proud of me
Let this poem of mine
Be for her,
My great grandmother.
poem by Efe Benjamin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Goody Blake and Harry Gill
Oh! what's the matter? what's the matter?
What is't that ails young Harry Gill?
That evermore his teeth they chatter,
Chatter, chatter, chatter still!
Of waistcoats Harry has no lack,
Good duffle grey, and flannel fine;
He has a blanket on his back,
And coats enough to smother nine.
In March, December, and in July,
'Tis all the same with Harry Gill;
The neighbours tell, and tell you truly,
His teeth they chatter, chatter still.
At night, at morning, and at noon,
'Tis all the same with Harry Gill;
Beneath the sun, beneath the moon,
His teeth they chatter, chatter still!
Young Harry was a lusty drover,
And who so stout of limb as he?
His cheeks were red as ruddy clover;
His voice was like the voice of three.
Old Goody Blake was old and poor;
Ill fed she was, and thinly clad;
And any man who passed her door
Might see how poor a hut she had.
All day she spun in her poor dwelling:
And then her three hours' work at night,
Alas! 'twas hardly worth the telling,
It would not pay for candle-light.
Remote from sheltered village-green,
On a hill's northern side she dwelt,
Where from sea-blasts the hawthorns lean,
And hoary dews are slow to melt.
By the same fire to boil their pottage,
Two poor old Dames, as I have known,
Will often live in one small cottage;
But she, poor Woman! housed alone.
'Twas well enough when summer came,
The long, warm, lightsome summer-day,
Then at her door the 'canty' Dame
Would sit, as any linnet, gay.
But when the ice our streams did fetter,
Oh then how her old bones would shake!
You would have said, if you had met her,
'Twas a hard time for Goody Blake.
Her evenings then were dull and dead:
Sad case it was, as you may think,
For very cold to go to bed;
And then for cold not sleep a wink.
O joy for her! whene'er in winter
The winds at night had made a rout;
And scattered many a lusty splinter
And many a rotten bough about.
Yet never had she, well or sick,
As every man who knew her says,
A pile beforehand, turf or stick,
Enough to warm her for three days.
Now, when the frost was past enduring,
And made her poor old bones to ache,
Could any thing be more alluring
Than an old hedge to Goody Blake?
And, now and then, it must be said,
When her old bones were cold and chill,
She left her fire, or left her bed,
To seek the hedge of Harry Gill.
Now Harry he had long suspected
This trespass of old Goody Blake;
And vowed that she should be detected--
That he on her would vengeance take.
And oft from his warm fire he'd go,
And to the fields his road would take;
And there, at night, in frost and snow,
He watched to seize old Goody Blake.
And once, behind a rick of barley,
Thus looking out did Harry stand:
The moon was full and shining clearly,
And crisp with frost the stubble land.
--He hears a noise--he's all awake--
Again?--on tip-toe down the hill
He softly creeps--'tis Goody Blake;
She's at the hedge of Harry Gill!
Right glad was he when he beheld her:
Stick after stick did Goody pull:
He stood behind a bush of elder,
Till she had filled her apron full.
When with her load she turned about,
The by-way back again to take;
He started forward, with a shout,
And sprang upon poor Goody Blake.
And fiercely by the arm he took her,
And by the arm he held her fast,
And fiercely by the arm he shook her,
And cried, "I've caught you then at last!"--
Then Goody, who had nothing said,
Her bundle from her lap let fall;
And, kneeling on the sticks, she prayed
To God that is the judge of all.
She prayed, her withered hand uprearing,
While Harry held her by the arm--
"God! who art never out of hearing,
O may he never more be warm!" 0
The cold, cold moon above her head,
Thus on her knees did Goody pray;
Young Harry heard what she had said:
And icy cold he turned away.
He went complaining all the morrow
That he was cold and very chill:
His face was gloom, his heart was sorrow,
Alas! that day for Harry Gill!
That day he wore a riding-coat,
But not a whit the warmer he:
Another was on Thursday brought,
And ere the Sabbath he had three.
'Twas all in vain, a useless matter,
And blankets were about him pinned;
Yet still his jaws and teeth they clatter;
Like a loose casement in the wind.
And Harry's flesh it fell away;
And all who see him say, 'tis plain,
That, live as long as live he may,
He never will be warm again.
No word to any man he utters,
A-bed or up, to young or old;
But ever to himself he mutters,
"Poor Harry Gill is very cold."
A-bed or up, by night or day;
His teeth they chatter, chatter still.
Now think, ye farmers all, I pray,
Of Goody Blake and Harry Gill!
poem by William Wordsworth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Harry Rag
Ah, tom is young and tom is bold
Tom is as bold as the knights of old
But whenever he gets in a bit of a jam
Theres nothing he wont do to get a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And he curses himself for the life hes led
And rolls himself a harry rag and puts himself to bed
Ah, toms old ma is a dying lass
Soon they all reckon shell be pushing up the grass
And her bones might ache and her skin might sag
But still shes got the strength to have a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And she curses herself for the life shes led
And rolls herself a harry rag and puts herself to bed
Ah, bless you tax man, bless you all
You may take some but you never take it all
But if I give it all, I wont feel sad
As long as I got enough to buy a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And I curse myself for the life Ive led
And roll myself a harry rag and put myself to bed
Ah, the smart young ladies of the land
Cant relax without a harry in their hand
And they light one and they boast and brag
So content because they got a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And theyll light one and theyll boast and brag
So content because they got a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Ill do anything just to get a harry rag
And I curse myself for the life Ive led
And roll myself a harry rag and put myself to bed
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Harry Rag
Ah, tom is young and tom is bold
Tom is as bold as the knights of old
But whenever he gets in a bit of a jam
Theres nothing he wont do to get a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And he curses himself for the life hes led
And rolls himself a harry rag and puts himself to bed
Ah, toms old ma is a dying lass
Soon they all reckon shell be pushing up the grass
And her bones might ache and her skin might sag
But still shes got the strength to have a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And she curses herself for the life shes led
And rolls herself a harry rag and puts herself to bed
Ah, bless you tax man, bless you all
You may take some but you never take it all
But if I give it all, I wont feel sad
As long as I got enough to buy a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And I curse myself for the life Ive led
And roll myself a harry rag and put myself to bed
Ah, the smart young ladies of the land
Cant relax without a harry in their hand
And they light one and they boast and brag
So content because they got a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And theyll light one and theyll boast and brag
So content because they got a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Ill do anything just to get a harry rag
And I curse myself for the life Ive led
And roll myself a harry rag and put myself to bed
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Harry the Wu
What can I do, Harry the Wu,
A policeman will come
And ask questions of you,
He'll pull out his book
And his pencil, too,
And look very sternly
At Harry the Wu.
Oh, Harry the Wu, what did you do,
While I was in bed
Going down with the flu,
I didn't get up until
Half past two,
And you're so impatient,
Harry the Wu.
I knew there was something that
I had to do,
I had to get up and feed
Harry the Wu,
That bowl in the fridge of
The left-over stew
Was meant for your dinner,
Harry the Wu.
Oh what can I do, Harry the Wu,
They'll probably lock you
Away in the zoo,
And then you will miss me
And I'll miss you too,
Life is a tragedy,
Harry the Wu.
I thought that you knew,
Harry the Wu,
That there are some things
You are not meant to do,
Now all that is left is
The Postman's shoe,
His hat and his bag
You have eaten them too.
What can I do, Harry the Wu,
You've ripped off the policeman's
Trousers, too,
You'd better go hide in
The chimney flu,
Stop wagging your tail at me
Harry the Wu.
13 April 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The last visit and conversion…
Here lays my grandmother
A week from: Death.
The gentle archetypal, type of grandmother
Who nursed my cries; made all things better.
Here lays, my grandmother…
In that; week before their heinous lies….
“Spoken in hellos but not goodbyes”
In that week before her untimely: Death.
Before; her cloak of life fell silently away bereft.
In isolating surrendered breaths…
In hopes and prayers…
In hopes; never-ending…
In words that were formed:
Like crusts of bread.
Floated in the mouths of the living…
Where once it was lovingly said.
That our own increments will rise conversely…
And speak from; our own deathbeds.
Shall we not all of us…
Then one day, converse, with the dead.
Here lays, my grandmother…
And to date—she is dead.
poem by Mark Heathcote
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Tub of Potatoes
My grandmother used to say
don't marry for money
but stay open-minded.
She could squeeze a nickel
and make the buffalo feel light-headed;
she could make a dollar out of 15 cent.
Now she was a big woman;
ruled the family roost
with a simple look
and an iron skillet.
Many times I heard that skillet
go thunk!
Another suitor educated.
Another boyfriend righted.
She always took us kids aside
and whispered things like
'now see that'
I don't want you kids to grow up
and do things like that.'
There was the woman or man who did not
take care of the family;
the Boyfriend Rogue;
or the Gallivant,
who tipped behind his ladies back;
the dandy who dressed so well
but did not have two dimes to rub together
and slept in the park in a tent.
These were depression days
when traveling men
rode the rails
not sure of where they came from
not sure of where they went
and the women who
longed for them;
who waited
for them
listening
for train whistles
and stock yard
freights
hauling
into Chicago
from the mid-west.
Grandmother
would sit
above a tub of water
peeling potatoes
like the layers of her life
each skin
would fall into the tub
of water
and go plop;
another chapter in Grandmother's life
told to us kids
sitting
wide-eyed.
'Time was' she would say
that this was a woman and man's country
now everything gone to hell.'
They danced in the gin joints
til then the money ran out
and the party was over
and the big depression gave them all
a big headache.
Party she said but dig down deep because
there will be a piper to pay.
Plop. Plop
Time was.
Time is.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Uncle Harry
Oh, never let on to your own true love
That ever you drank a drop;
That ever you played in a two-up school
Or slept in a sly-grog shop;
That ever a bad girl nursed you round –
That ever you sank so low.
But she pulled you through, and it's only you
And your old mate Harry know.
"Billy the Link" they called you then,
And it makes me sad to think
Of the strenuous days when it took three cops
And a pimp to couple the Link.
"Mister Linkhurst" they call you now,
And your kitchen garden grows;
And no one knows in your family,
But your Uncle Harry knows.
Oh, never let on to your fair young bride
How a "straight" girl stabbed your heart
With a devilish wire to the Western side
Where we were a world apart.
With pick and shovel you fought it out
Where the red sirocco blows;
And no one knew in the gang save you –
But your old mate Harry knows.
Oh, never let on to your own good wife,
For a tender heart has she,
Of the girl that loved and the girl that lies
In the graveyard there by the sea!
'Twas not for his "manners" she loved the cad,
'Twas not for his verse or prose,
But the pity she felt for the country lad –
And your Uncle Harry knows.
The bad girl went where the bad girls go
And I see her dark eyes yet;
The good girl left me her broken heart,
But I trow that their souls have met.
The cry of the heart we send not forth
On every wind that blows;
You are hiding a sorrow from someone now –
But your Uncle Harry knows.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Harrys Circumcision - Reverie Gone Astray
Looking in the mirror
Harry didnt like what he saw
The cheeks of his mother, the eyes of his father
As each day crashed around him
The future stood revealed
He was turning into his parents
The final disappointment
Stepping out of the shower
Harry stared at himself
His hairline receding, the slight overbite
He picked up the razor to begin his shaving and thought -
- oh, I wish I was different
I wish I was stronger
I wish I was thinner
I wish I didnt have this nose
These ears that stick out remind me of my father
And I dont want to be reminded at all
The final disappointment
Harry looked in the mirror thinking of vincent van gogh
And with a quick swipe lopped off his nose
And happy with that he made a slice where his chin was
Hed always wanted a dimple
The end of all illusion
Then peering down straight between his legs
Harry thought of the range of possibilities
A new face, a new life, no memories of the past
And slit his throat from ear to ear
Harry woke up with a cough
The stitches made him wince
A doctor smiled at him from
Somewhere across the room
Son, we saved your life
But youll never look the same
And when he heard that
Harry had to laugh
And when he heard that
Harry had to laugh
Although it hurt harry had to laugh
The final disappointment
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
ODE TO A SUPERHERO
Parody of "Piano Man" by Billy Joel
Poor Peter Parker was pitiful
Couldn't have been any shyer
Mary Jane still wouldn't notice him
Even if his hair was on fire
But then one day he went to that science lab
That mutated spider came down
Oh, and now Peter crawls over everyone's walls
And he's swingin' all over town
La li la, li de da
La la, li le la da dom
Sling us a web, you're the Spider-Man
Sling us a web tonight
'Cause we're all in the mood for a hero now
And there's evil-doers to fight
Now Harry the rich kid's a friend of his
Who horns in on Mary Jane
But to his great surprise it seems she prefers guys
Who can kiss upside-down in the rain
"With great power comes great responsibility"
That's the catch phrase of old Uncle Ben
If you missed it, don't worry, they'll say the line
Again and again and again
Oh, la la la, di de da
La la, di di da da dom
Now Norman's a billionaire scientist
Who never had time for his son
But then something went screwy and before you knew he
Was trying to kill everyone
And he's ridin' around on that glider thing
And he's throwin' that weird pumpkin bomb
Yes, he's wearin' that dumb Power Rangers mask
But he's scarier without it on
Sling us a web, you're the Spider-Man
Sling us a web tonight
'Cause you're brave and you're strong and so limber now
But where'd you come up with those tights?
It's a pretty sad day at the funeral
Norman Osborn has bitten the dust
And I heard Harry's said he wants Spider-Man dead
Aw, but his buddy Pete he can trust
Oh, and M.J. is all hot for Peter now
Aw, but Peter, he just shuts her down
Mary Jane, don't you cry, you can give it a try
Again when the sequel comes 'round
Oh, la la la, di de da
La la, di di da da dom
Sling us a web, you're the Spider-Man
Sling us a web tonight
'Cause we all sure could use us a hero now
And we think that you'll do all right
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Ballade Of The Hardy Annual
Many a jest that refuses to die
Bobs up again as the seasons appear;
Deathless it hits us again in the eye-
Changeless and dull as the calendar year.
Musty and mouldy and yellow and sere,
Stronger, withal, than the sturdiest oak;
Ancient and solemn and deadly and drear-
Down with the grandmother-funeral joke!
Soon as the snow has forgotten to fly,
All through the day of the 'leathery sphere,'
Jokelets and pictures and verses we spy
All on the theme of the grandmother dear.
Bonnets, umbrellas, and buckets of beer
Please us and tickle us quite to the choke.
But-on this matter our attitude's clear-
Down with the grandmother-funeral joke!
Giggle we can at a blueberry pie;
Scream at a comedy king or ameer;
Simply guffaw when the jestermen guy
Marriage, a thing at which no one should jeer.
Things that in others elicit a tear
All of our risibles simply unyoke;
But from this stand we're unwilling to veer:
Down with the grandmother-funeral joke!
L'ENVOI
Brothers in motley, the season is here;
Small is the boon that we sadly invoke:
Butcher it, murder it, jump on its ear! -
Down with the grandmother-funeral joke!
poem by Franklin P. Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rita Matlock Gruenberg
Grandmother! You who sang to green valleys,
And passed to a sweet repose at ninety-six,
Here is your little Rita at last
Grown old, grown forty-nine;
Here stretched on your grave under the winter stars,
With the rustle of oak leaves over my head;
Piecing together strength for the act,
Last thoughts, memories, asking how I am here!
After wandering afar, over the world,
Life in cities, marriages, motehrhood--
(They all married, and I am homeless, alone.)
Grandmother! I have not lacked in strength,
Nor will, nor courage. No! I have honored you
With a life that used these gifts of your blood.
But I was caught in trap after trap in the years.
At last the cruelist trap of all.
Then I fought the bars, pried open the door,
Crawled through -- but it suddenly sprang shut,
And tore me to death as I used your courage
To free myself!
Grandmother! Fold me to your breast again.
Make me earth with you for the blossoms of spring--
Grandmother!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Great Grandmother
great grandmother
grandmother's mother
she walked through my life
like red roses, that dropp over one's path
roses that hold us back to savour
the meaning cast between
two melancholic lines of a poem
great grandmother
grandmother's mother
she walked through my life
so sparingly, always with the
fervent wish to build a bridge to my life
you know it because she always walked
away with tears glistening in her eyes
tears glistening in her eyes
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Dead
Their reward is
they become innocent again,
and when they reappear in memory
death has completely erased
the blurs, given them boundaries. They rise
and move through their new world with clean,
clear edges. My grandmother, in particular
has become buoyant, unattached finally
from her histories, from the trappings
of family. By no means was she
a good woman. But the dead don't care anymore for that.
Weightless, they no longer assume
responsibility, they no longer
have bodies. Once,
at the end of August, after swimming
in the muddy pond
I'd gone into the living room, cool
as vodka, where my grandmother
sat. Greed thins a woman,
I remember her rings, bigger
than her fingers.
Water ran down my legs
onto the floor becoming slippery
and my grandmother, her breath
scratchy from cigarettes and blended whiskey,
leaned into my ear and whispered
you're an ugly girl. Do I have
to forgive her? My mother tells me
no one ever loved her,
so when I see her, I see her again in the park
in her pink tailored suit, suede pumps,
I see her moving among the strange
gentlemen that have gathered, the dark
powerful men. She is still young, blonde
and most of all, she is beyond reach, beautiful.
poem by Kate Northrop
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I love tea
I love tea
and when I was a boy,
my grandmother made me some.
Her tea was better,
than any other tea
and she told her secret to me.
At eleven in the morning,
or four in the afternoon
we used to chat,
my grandmother and me
and we shared
a lovely pot of tea.
She taught me to respect
and grant dignity,
to those from whom my ancestors came.
But mostly she taught me
about integrity
and how to live right in the eyes of the Lord.
I really miss my grandmamma
and her love still spreads over me,
when I make that special tea.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lines For An Album
Over the river and through the woods
To grandmother’s house we go ...
She waits behind the bolted door,
Her withered face in thirty pieces,
While blood runs thin, and memory,
An idiot without a name,
Recalls the snows of eighty years,
The daughter whose death was unexplained,
Darkness, blue veins, and broken leases.
Grandmother waits behind the door
(Sight dims beyond the curtain folds)
With her toothless smile and enuresis.
Over the river and through the woods
To grandmother’s house we go ...
poem by Weldon Kees
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Grandmother Would Drive
My grandmother could make a biscuit taste like steak.
And she did everything from 'scratch'.
Including making her own soap too.
The only thing I disliked,
That my Grandmother Clara ever did...
Was to get her driver's license.
My grandmother would drive,
And have an entire conversation...
Without looking at the road!
I had heard rumors of this...
But to witness it,
Was right out of Six Flags.
Or Disney World.
Don't ask me how she did this.
I was too busy trying to keep myself alive.
That 'imaginary' brake on the passenger side,
Of my grandmother's car...
Had worn a hole through the carpeted car floor.
And my grandmother never got a speeding ticket either.
She turned to me and asked why I had the door handle,
In my hand when speeding along the highway.
I did not realize I had pulled the handle from the door.
She frightened the 'hell' out of me.
'Grandma, I gotta use the bathroom.'
~And...? ~
'Pee.'
~You bet not be doin' that in my car, boy!
Why didn't you say somethin' when we were at the carwash? ~
'I didn't think I had to THEN, grandma.
But driving with you has proved me wrong.
I think I've got to throw up too! '
The only thing I disliked,
That my Grandmother Clara ever did...
Was to get her driver's license.
She said she didn't need to wait,
For my grandfather to take her anywhere...
She wanted to go.
And rarely did I see my grandmother,
Using the rearview mirror.
Or...
Keep her eyes on the road.
'Grandma, I gotta use the bathroom.
I'm serious.'
~And...? ~
'Pee.'
~You bet not be doin' that in my car, boy!
Why didn't you say somethin' when we were at the carwash?
You slowing me. You slowing me down. Geeesssshhh.
Precious Lord...hmmm hmmm...Lead me...hmmm.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Paul McNeely
Dear Jane! dear winsome Jane!
How you stole in the room (where I lay so ill)
In your nurse's cap and linen cuffs,
And took my hand and said with a smile:
"You are not so ill -- you'll soon be well."
And how the liquid thought of your eyes
Sank in my eyes like dew that slips
Into the heart of a flower.
Dear Jane! the whole McNeely fortune
Could not have bought your care of me,
By day and night, and night and day;
Nor paid for your smile, nor the warmth of your soul,
In your little hands laid on my brow.
Jane, till the flame of life went out
In the dark above the disk of night
I longed and hoped to be well again
To pillow my head on your little breasts,
And hold you fast in a clasp of love --
Did my father provide for you when he died,
Jane, dear Jane?
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Harry
you must be smellin' cherries and strawberries and peaches
and plums
roses and dandelions
special lovin' on the nite I spent with you
it was the best that I've had lately
but it didn't mean anything
and I will be glad when you stop callin' me
harry
don't wanna be your girlfriend
but boy when you want the lovin'
come and see me harry
swore my ever lasting true love to you
said that I need ya I want ya didn't I baby
but I was just kiddin' 'round
and I will be glad when you stop callin' my house
harry
don't wanna be your girlfriend
but boy when you want the lovin'
come and see me harry
it's a shame harry
cause you such a beautiful thing harry
you tell em that you love and I bet you do
but love's not my thing right now harry
all I wanna do is swing
and when you're ready
I'm here for you
please harry
stop callin' me
harry
don't wanna be your girlfriend
but boy when you want the lovin'
feel free to come and see me harry
song performed by by Macy Gray from The ID
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!