The Old General
Little Annabelle to please,
(Lacking grace, I grant),
Grandpa down on hands and knees
Plays the elephant.
Annabelle shrieks with delight,
Bouncing up and down,
On his back and holding tight
To his dressing gown.
As they roll and bowl along,
Round and round the room,
There is sunshine and a song
'Spite December gloom.
Yet we hear not Grandpa's groans,
Hushed his beard inside,
As his old rheumatic bones
Ache with every stride.
He has known his golden days,
Soldiered with the best;
And to prove the people's praise
Medals bright his breast.
Yet though his renown we chant,
How we love him well
When he plays the elephant
Just for Annabelle!
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Annabelle
Ward Horton, Annabelle Wallis, Alfre Woodard, Eric Ladin, Michelle Romano, Tony Amendola, Brian Howe, Gabriel Bateman, Shiloh Nelson
by Gary Dauberman from Annabelle (2014)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Annabelle [trailer 2]
Ward Horton, Annabelle Wallis, Alfre Woodard, Eric Ladin, Michelle Romano, Tony Amendola, Brian Howe, Gabriel Bateman, Shiloh Nelson
by Gary Dauberman from Annabelle (2014)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Can't Cry
Pain is all I have
Traces from the past
Hunting me down
Can't cry out loud
Kept it inside
Aching through numbness.
(04/14/07)
poem by Annabelle Grace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wish I Could
I wish I could tell you I love you
I wish I could take back those times I did not
But I can't and I never can
I wish I could take back those times that I was mean
That I had an attitude
But I can't and I never can
I realized to late what you mean to me
Grandpa I love you
Grandpa I miss you….I'm sorry for my tears
You saved me from the orphanage where you were forced to go
You saved my baby brother's life but I never said thank you
Grandpa I love you
Grandpa I miss you…..I'm sorry for my tears
I can never again hug you
I can only see your smile in your pictures
I can never ask about the wars you fought in
I can never hear your stories again
Grandpa I love you
Grandpa I miss you…….I'm sorry for my tears
I wish I could tell you I love you
But I can never do it again
poem by Rachel Dowd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Devil On The Tree
It was coming on up to Christmas
When I received an unusual text,
‘We're travelling round the country and
We thought we'd visit you next.'
It was signed Giselle, the cousin from Hell,
And I shook right down to my boots,
For ‘we' meant daughter Annabelle Leigh
With a reputation to suit.
I think she was sired by a Demon down
In the Seventh Circle of Hell,
She'd never been smacked, not even a tap
When she'd scream, and shout and yell,
Her mother was one of those wussy types
Who'd studied psychology,
Was into behaviour models, rather
Than putting her over her knee.
They came with their bag and baggage, said
They'd only be here for a month,
And Annabelle Leigh went on a spree
Spitting all over our lunch,
‘Now don't be naughty, ' her mother said,
‘Or you'll make your uncle mad! '
‘I hate him! ' she said, looking at me,
‘You tell him he's not my Dad! '
I thought, ‘Thank God for that! ' there are
Small mercies in this world,
And one, not being the father of
This hateful, spiteful girl,
She turned my home to a charnel house
When she cauterised the cat,
Burning the fur of my Burmese with
A basin of scalding fat.
I asked if ever she'd sought the help
Of a child psychologist,
Giselle just sat and she simpered, ‘Oh,
She's never as bad as this!
You must have done something to worry her,
Keep calm, and try to be nice.'
But I was too busy to answer, while
Packing the cat in ice.
‘Children need to feel valued, ' said
Giselle, one day to me,
But I was stood by the window
Watching her kid ring-bark my tree,
She cut off the neighbour's pony-tail
As she lay asleep on the deck,
My hands were jerking in spasms as
I thought of them round her neck.
At Christmas-time out shopping she
Demanded the best of dolls,
Would scream, and fill up the shopping cart
With fairies, dwarfs and trolls,
But when it was too expensive and
Giselle said, ‘Put it back! '
She'd lie on the floor and hold her breath
‘Til her face was almost black.
On Christmas Eve, I trimmed the tree
At about the midnight hour,
As I wrapped the various packages, I
Could feel her in my power,
She wouldn't forget this Christmas was
The promise I made to me,
For two could play at the naughty game
She'd find out, Annabelle Leigh!
I took the fairy from the top
Of the tree that it had graced,
Unwrapped the special surprise I'd bought
And put it in her place,
A large black rubber devil with
Red eyes and a pair of horns,
And a tongue that sprung from its evil face
For a foot and a half or more.
I'd coated the tongue with Rapid-fix
That instant stick cement,
And added the smell of rotting flesh
And Burmese excrement,
At dawn, when Annabelle Leigh came down
She looked for the fluffy dog,
But when she opened the parcel it
Was just my exploding frog!
The frog was coated in treacle that
Was stuck to her hands and hair,
She got out a single scream before
Her mother came running there,
The spring released on the devil that
Came leaping out of the tree,
Its tongue flew out, and stuck to the lip
Of that darling, Annabelle Leigh.
She stared in the big black devil's eyes
As it hung, and bounced from her lip,
The eyes popped out and revolved as well,
Giselle came out, and flipped,
I doubt they'll ever dropp in on me
Again, they left in a whirl,
Annabelle sees a psychiatrist,
A well behaved little girl!
23 November 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm My Own Grandpa
It was many many years ago when I was twenty-three,
I was married to a widow, she's as pretty as can be.
This widow had a grown-up daughter who had hair of red,
my father fell in lover with her, and soon these two were wed.
I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.
This made my dad my son-in-law and changed my very life:
My daughter was my mother 'cause she was my father's wife.
And then to complicate the matter, though it brought me joy,
I soon became the father of a bouncing baby boy.
This bouncing baby then became a brother-in-law to dad,
and so became my uncle, though it made me very sad,
for if he was my uncle then he also was the brother
of the widow's grown-up daughter, who, of course, was my step-mother.
I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.
Father's wife then had a son who kept them on the run.
And he became my grandchild, for he was my daughter's son.
My wife is now my mother's mother, and it makes me blue,
because although she is my wife, she's my grandmother, too.
Now if my wife is my grandmother, then I am her grandchild.
And every time I think of it, it nearly drives me wild.
For now I have become the strangest case you ever saw.
Husband of my grandmother, I am my own grandpa.
I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Celia
Cherry, cherry,
glowing on the hearth,
bright red cherry….
When you try to pick up cherry
Celia’s shriek
sticks in you like a pin.
When God throws hailstones
you cuddle in Celia’s shawl
and press your feet on her belly
high up like a stool.
When Celia makes umbrella of her hand.
Rain falls through
big pink spokes of her fingers.
When wind blows Celia’s gown up off her legs
she runs under pillars of the bank—
great round pillars of the bank
have on white stockings too.
Celia says my father
will bring me a golden bowl.
When I think of my father
I cannot see him
for the big yellow bowl
like the moon with two handles
he carries in front of him.
Grandpa, grandpa…
(Light all about you…
ginger… pouring out of green jars…)
You don’t believe he has gone away and left his great coat…
so you pretend… you see his face up in the ceiling.
When you clap your hands and cry, grandpa, grandpa, grandpa,
Celia crosses herself.
It isn’t a dream….
It comes again and again….
You hear ivy crying on steeples
the flames haven’t caught yet
and images screaming
when they see red light on the lilies
on the stained glass window of St. Joseph.
The girl with the black eyes holds you tight,
and you run… and run
past the wild, wild towers…
and trees in the gardens tugging at their feet
and little frightened dolls
shut up in the shops
crying… and crying… because no one stops…
you spin like a penny thrown out in the street.
Then the man clutches her by the hair….
He always clutches her by the hair….
His eyes stick out like spears.
You see her pulled-back face
and her black, black eyes
lit up by the glare….
Then everything goes out.
Please God, don’t let me dream any more
of the girl with the black, black eyes.
Celia’s shadow rocks and rocks…
and mama’s eyes stare out of the pillow
as though she had gone away
and the night had come in her place
as it comes in empty rooms…
you can’t bear it—
the night threshing about
and lashing its tail on its sides
as bold as a wolf that isn’t afraid—
and you scream at her face, that is white as a stone on a grave
and pull it around to the light,
till the night draws backward… the night that walks alone
and goes away without end.
Mama says, I am cold, Betty, and shivers.
Celia tucks the quilt about her feet,
but I run for my little red cloak
because red is hot like fire.
I wish Celia
could see the sea climb up on the sky
and slide off again…
…Celia saying
I’d beg the world with you….
Celia… holding on to the cab…
hands wrenched away…
wind in the masts… like Celia crying….
Celia never minded if you slapped her
when the comb made your hairs ache,
but though you rub your cheek against mama’s hand
she has not said darling since….
Now I will slap her again….
I will bite her hand till it bleeds.
It is cool by the port hole.
The wet rags of the wind
flap in your face.
poem by Lola Ridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bouncing Pony
Joey is an adventurous little boy
A bouncing pony is his birthday present
Grandpa Joe’s heart is filled with joy.
Let me help you into the saddle to enjoy
Youthful squeals eagerly express intent
Joey is an adventurous little boy
Into the stirrups Joey’s feet are employed
Energy is engaged one hundred percent
Grandpa Joe’s heart is filled with joy.
Reins are grasped by a miniature cowboy…
The eager steed bolts and away they went
Joey is an adventurous little boy.
The spirits of two generations join as one…
Their smiles and laughter are frequent
Grandpa Joe’s heart is filled with joy.
Motion slows as Joey dismounts and runs
Bouncing onto Grandpa’s lap and giving a hug
Joey is an adventurous little boy
Grandpa Joe’s heart is filled with joy.
(9/10/07)
poem by Theresa Ann Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bouncin Around The Room
The woman was a dream I had
Though rather hard to keep
For when my eyes were watching hers
They closed,
And I was still asleep.
For when my hand was holding hers
She whispered words and I awoke
And faintly bouncing around the room
The echo of whomever spoke
I awoke and faintly bouncing round the room
The echo of whomever spoke.
The place I saw was far beneath
The surface of the sea
My sight was poor
But I was sure
The sirens sang their songs for me
They dance above me as I sink
I see them through a crystal haze
And hear them bouncing round the room
The never ending coral maze
That time and once again Im bouncing around the room.
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bouncing Around The Room
The woman was a dream I had
Though rather hard to keep
for when my eyes were watching hers
They closed,
And I was still asleep.
For when my hand was holding hers
She whispered words and I awoke
And faintly bouncing around the room
The echo of whomever spoke
I awoke and faintly bouncing round the room
the echo of whomever spoke.
The place I saw was far beneath
The surface of the sea
My sight was poor
But I was sure
The sirens sang their songs for me
They dance above me as I sink
I see them through a crystal haze
And hear them bouncing round the room
the never ending coral maze
That time and once again I'm bouncing around the room.
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Elephant On The Telephone
There’s an elephant on the telephone
Who wants to make a trunk call
To the elegant but pleasant gent
That he calls his negligent uncle
Who had forgotten, since he’s not
An elephant with great foresight,
To tie a tight knot upon the spot
In his cotton handkerchief, a fortnight
Ago in November, so he’d remember
That December’s the time for going shopping
For expensive gifts he intends to fit
In the elephant’s huge Christmas stocking.
poem by C. Richard Miles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mine Is Annabelle
oh i see
you named
your puppy
laura lee
may i suggest
another
name
with much
significance
of poesy
please
call her
annabelle lee
in honor
of mr. edgar
allan
poe.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Falling From Above
Grandpa said to cousin Jed
Sitting on the porch,
"I won't retire
But I might retread."
Seem like that guy singin' this song
Been doing it for a long time
Is there anything he knows
That he ain't said?
Sing a song for freedom
Sing a song for love
Sing a song for depressed angels
Falling from above.
Grandpa held the paper
Pretending he could see
But he couldn't read
Without his glasses on
"How can all those people
Afford so many things?
When I was young we wore
What we had on."
Mamma said, "A little love and affection
In everything you do
Will make the world a better place
With or without you.
"A little love and affection
In everything you do
A better place
With or without you."
Slamming down some late night shots
The artist and the hero compare
Those envisions and afterthoughts
For the twenty first century.
But mostly came up with nothing
So the truth was never learned
And the human race just
Kept rollin' on.
Rollin' through the fighting
Rollin' through the religious wars
Rollin' down the temple walls
And the churches' exposed sores.
Rollin' through the fighting
Through religious wars
Mostly came up with nothing...
"Grandpa, here's your glasses;
You'll see much better now,"
Said that young girl
Of Edith and Earl's.
But Grandpa just kept starin'
He was lost in some distant thought
Then he turned and he said
To that young girl,
"A little love and affection
In everything you do
Will make the world a better place
With or without you.
"A little love and affection
In everything you do
A better place
With or without you."
Hear the rooster crowin'
Down on the Double E
It's a new morning
Breaking on the green.
Bouncing off the Towers,
The sun's heading for the street
The business meeting
Window shades are drawn.
Another morning edition
Is headed for the porch
Because Grandma puts down the paper
Before Grandpa raises his fork.
A little love and affection
In every thing you do
A better place
With or without you.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mine
Annabelle Wallis, Armie Hammer, Tom Cullen, Juliet Aubrey, Geoff Bell, Clint Dyer, Luka Peros, David Kirk Traylor
from Mine (2017)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Old Upright Piano
For as long as I remember, when friday night came round
The family would gather out at grandpas house.
With supper over and the dishes done
It was then the best time came
At an old upright piano that only grandma played.
She played beautiful dreamer, my wild irish rose;
She never played em perfect, but there was love in every note.
Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang,
At the old upright piano that only grandma played.
Grandpa was a stubborn man, they said it was his style.
Grandma called him ornery, but she said it with a smile.
Even he could not disguise the love he felt so strong;
We all could see it in his eyes when she played his favorite song.
She played beautiful dreamer, my wild irish rose;
She never played em perfect, but there was love in every note.
Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang,
At the old upright piano that only grandma played.
I was almost 17 when my grandma died;
I stayed all night with grandpa; the old man never cried.
He sat at her piano, there was nothing we could say
It was the first time in my life I ever heard my grandpa play.
It wasnt beautiful dreamer or my wild irish rose
It was a song he played from memory & he never missed a note
I sat right there beside him until the morning came
What a friend we have in jesus was the only song he played.
She played beautiful dreamer, my wild irish rose;
She never played em perfect, but there was love in every note.
Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang,
At the old upright piano that only grandma played.
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Double E
Back in the country, living on the Double E
In the sunshine of her life
There's already a young fellow but Mom and Daddy won't let her leave
Mom and Poppa won't let her go
But when they go out dancin'
She breaks out on her own
She's hot enough to burn the house down
But Mom and Poppa don't know
When Edith and Earl renamed the Double E
They nearly made history
The locals rose up, some of them were mad as hell
Cause it used to be the Double L
Change comes slow in the country
When you're new there's a lot of distrust
Years fly by uneventful
Memories turn to dust
Meanwhile Granny has got her bright colors on
And the sun's shinin' in her eyes
Cruisin' by the bars and honky-tonks where she met Grandpa
And caught that young man's eye
Dusty white El Dorado
Cruisin' through the trees
Slippin' through the shadows
Of what used to be
Back in the days, living in the summer of love
Living in the summer of love
Grandma's okay, not the same since Grandpa's gone
She's living in the summer of love
Back in the days, living in the summer of love
Living in the summer of love
Living in the summer of love
Living in the summer of love
Back in the days, living in the summer of love
Living in the summer of love
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild Flowers In A Mason Jar
This song was first released on the some days are diamonds album. it is the only album it has been released on.
January back in '55 we rode a greyhound bus through the georgia midnight
Grandpa was sleeping and the winter sky was clear
We hit a bump and his head jerked back a little and he mumbled something
He woke up smiling but his eyes were bright with tears he said...
I dreamed i was back on the farm
Twenty years have passed boy
But the memory still warms me
Wild flowers in a mason jar
He told me those old stories 'bout that one room cabin in kentucky
The smell of rain and the feel of the warm earth in his hands
He slowly turned and stared outside
His face was mirrored in the window
And his reflection flew across the moonlit land
And he dreamed he was back on the farm
He tilts his head and listens to the early sounds of morning
Wild flowers in a mason jar
An old man and an eight year old boy
Rolling down that midnight highway
Warm kentucky memories from a winter georgia night
I started drifting off and grandpa tucked his coat around me
I think i tried to smile as i slowly closed my eyes
And i dreamed i was with him on the farm
Grandpa, i can hear the evening wind out in the corn
Wild flowers in a mason jar and the bus rolling through the night
Words and music by dennis linde
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Brothers Grimsby
Penelope Cruz, Isla Fisher, Rebel Wilson, Sacha Baron Cohen, Mark Strong, Annabelle Wallis, Ian McShane, Scott Adkins, Tamsin Egerton
from The Brothers Grimsby (2016)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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White Girl
Morgan Saylor, Brian 'Sene' Marc, Justin Bartha, Chris Noth, Adrian Martinez, India Menuez, Annabelle Dexter-Jones, Ralph Rodriguez
by Elizabeth Wood from White Girl (2016)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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W.E.
Abbie Cornish, James D'Arcy, Andrea Riseborough, Natalie Dormer, Katie McGrath, Annabelle Wallis, Oscar Isaac, Richard Coyle, Laurence Fox, James Fox, David Harbour