Squalor & Chips
My angel of the night
came down the stairs of morning
his hair, brown locks of greasiness,
his mouth, those sweet lips, yawning.
He stopped three steps from earth that day
and gazed at trainers in his way
and then as I began to pray,
stepped over and ignored them.
He took four steps across the room
he missed the cloth, the pan, the broom
and squashed cold chips, bare footed
upon the kitchen flooring!
Alas my fallen angel there,
sat his bottom on a chair
and sweeping hand through tousled hair,
ate his breakfast without care.
Without thought for chips all squashed,
flattened on that kitchen floor.
A floor so needy for a wash
as I exclaimed, "Oh my dear God! "
I found the mop, the bucket too
I cleaned the floor, mopped up the goo
and then I had a notion to,
but my angel wouldn't let me through.
Squashed chips on the kitchen floor
last nights washing up,
sticky table, dustbins full
and an empty coffee cup.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Related quotes
You r my Angel
You r my Angel
You r my angel the one who looks over me
You r my angel the one who cares for me
You r my angel the one who loves me
You r my angel the one who has beautiful brown eyes
You r my angel the one who has beautiful dark brown hair
You r my angel u will be there when I gets hurt
You r my angel u will be the one that is always on my mind
You r the angel that keeps me breathing
You r the angel of my dreams
You r the angel that keeps me alive
You r my angel that will cheer me up when i m sad
You r my angel that will love me lyk a sweet bess
You r my angel that will support me in my bad times
You r You r my loving Angel
Thanks for being my Angel
poem by Arjun singh Chhabra
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No Lilies For Lisette
Said the Door: "She came in
With no shadow of sin;
Turned the key in the lock,
Slipped out of her frock,
The robe she liked best
When for supper she dressed.
Then a letter she tore . . .
What a wan look she wore!"
Said the Door.
Said the Chair: "She sat down
With a pitiful frown,
And then (oh, it's queer)
Just one lonely tear
Rolled down her pale cheek.
How I hoped she would speak
As she let down her hair,"
Said the Chair.
Said the Glass: "Then she gazed
Into me like one dazed;
As with delicate grace
She made up her face,
Her cheeks and her lips
With rose finger-tips,
So lovely - alas!
Then she turned on the gas."
Said the Glass.
Said the Bed: "Down she lay
In a weariful way,
Like an innocent child,
To her fate reconciled;
Hands clasped to her breast,
In prayer or in rest:
'Dear Mother,' she said,
Then pillowed her head,"
Said the Bed.
Said the Room: "Then the gleam
Of the moon like a dream,
Soft silvered my space,
And it fell on her face
That was never so sweet
As her heart ceased to beat . . .
Then the moon fled and gloom
Fell like funeral plume,"
Said the Room.
"Just a whore,"
Said the Door;
"Yet so fair,"
Said the Chair;
"Frail, alas!"
Said the Glass;
"Now she's dead,"
Said the Bed;
"Sorry doom,"
Said the Room. . . .
Then they all,
Floor and wall,
Quiet grew,
Ceiling too;
Like a tomb
Was the room;
With hushed breath
Hailing Death:
Soul's release,
Silence, Peace.
poem by Robert William Service
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Angel Come Home
Oo ooo ooo ooo ooo
Now the puzzles laid out on my table
The pieces dont fit
I move from chair to chair
But that empty ones there where she used to sit
Im sitting here going out of my mind
cause shes gone away
She couldnt wait, now i
Im afraid its too late
Im waitin till my angel comes home
Its been hell bein here alone
Ill be in heaven when my angel comes home
Angel, angel come home
If you see her tell my angel come home
Oo oo oo angel come home
If you see her tell my angel to come home
Does she remember
That I cant forget
Does she know I regret
I never told her how i
I wanted to hold her
I just let her go
Lonely nights thinkin
Its starting to sink in
We had a way to go
Well grow closer together
By being apart
When my angel comes home
Its been hell bein here alone
God tell me, why has she flown
So far away
I pray she wont stay another day
Ill be in heaven when my angel comes home
Please come home
Angel, come home
If you see her tell my angel come home
Hoo ooo angel, come home
If you see her tell my angel to come home
Hey hey angel, come home
If you see her tell my angel to come home
Ho oo angel come home
If you see her tell my angel to come home
Hey angel come home
If you see her tell my angel to come home
If you see that girl my angel come home
Hey hey angel come home
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Metamorphosis
a girlfriend came in
built me a bed
scrubbed and waxed the kitchen floor
scrubbed the walls
vacuumed
cleaned the toilet
the bathtub
scrubbed the bathroom floor
and cut my toenails and
my hair.
then
all on the same day
the plumber came and fixed the kitchen faucet
and the toilet
and the gas man fixed the heater
and the phone man fixed the phone.
noe I sit in all this perfection.
it is quiet.
I have broken off with all 3 of my girlfriends.
I felt better when everything was in
disorder.
it will take me some months to get back to normal:
I can't even find a roach to commune with.
I have lost my rythm.
I can't sleep.
I can't eat.
I have been robbed of
my filth.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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Death Of A Cockroach
I opened wide the bath-room door,
And all at once switched on the light,
When moving swift across the floor
I saw a streak of ebon bright:
Then quick, with slipper in my hand,
Before it could escape,--I slammed.
I missed it once, I missed it twice,
But got it ere it gained its lair.
I fear my words were far from nice,
Though d----s with me are rather rare:
Then lo! I thought that dying roach
Regarded me with some reproach.
Said I: "Don't think I grudge you breath;
I hate to spill your greenish gore,
But why did you invite your death
By straying on my bath-room floor?"
"It is because," said he (or she),
"Adventure is my destiny.
"By evolution I was planned,
And marvellously made as you;
And I am led to understand
The selfsame God conceived us two:
Sire, though the coup de grâce you give,
Even a roach has right to live."
Said I: "Of course you have a right,--
But not to blot my bath-room floor.
Yet though with slipper I may smite,
Your doom I morally deplore . . .
From cellar gloom to stellar space
Let bards and beetles have their place.
poem by Robert William Service
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The Penitent
I had a little Sorrow,
Born of a little Sin,
I found a room all damp with gloom
And shut us all within;
And, "Little Sorrow, weep," said I,
"And, Little Sin, pray God to die,
And I upon the floor will lie
And think how bad I've been!"
Alas for pious planning—
It mattered not a whit!
As far as gloom went in that room,
The lamp might have been lit!
My little Sorrow would not weep,
My little Sin would go to sleep—
To save my soul I could not keep
My graceless mind on it!
So I got up in anger,
And took a book I had,
And put a ribbon on my hair
To please a passing lad,
And, "One thing there's no getting by—
I've been a wicked girl," said I:
"But if I can't be sorry, why,
I might as well be glad!"
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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A Step Too Far
He stepped out of a sinking ship,
he didn't stumble, fall or trip
but stepped with solid footing in
for refuge in her warm kitchen.
The fridge was stocked with meat and booze,
he gladly helped himself to this.
His belly hurt, he burped and farted.
feasting ‘till his bottom hissed.
When he awoke at break of day
his aching head all full of pain,
he blamed the kitchen for his fate,
and smashed the cups and dinner plates.
He slammed the cupboards and what's more
he threw the cutlery on the floor!
Then when he'd done with causing havoc,
and she threw him out for shame,
he found he'd stepped a step too far
and begged to be let in again.
poem by Ruth Walters
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My Angel
My angel is the one who looks over me
My angel is the who cares for me
My angel is the one who loves me
My angel has beautiful brown eyes
My angel has beautiful black hair
My angel will be there when I get hurt
My angel will be the one that is always on my mind
He is the angel that keeps me breathing
He is the angel of my dreams
He is the angel that keeps me alive
My angel will cheer me up when I’m sad
My angel will love me for me
He is my angel of my life
poem by Jessica Bousfield
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It Happens in the B.R. Families
'Twas on the shores that round our coast
From Deal to Newport lie
That I roused from sleep in a huddled heap
An elderly wealthy guy.
His hair was graying, his hair was long,
And graying and long was he;
And I heard this grouch on the shore avouch,
In a singular jazzless key:
"Oh, I am a cook and a waitress trim
And a maid of the second floor,
And a strong chauffeur and a housekeeper,
And the man who tends the door!"
And he shook his fists and he tore his hair,
And he started to frisk and play,
Till I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking,
So I said (in the Gilbert way):
"Oh, elderly man, I don't know much
Of the ways of societee,
But I'll eat my friend if I comprehend
However you can be
"At once a cook and a waitress trim
And the maid of the second floor,
And a strong chauffeur and a housekeeper,
And the man who tends the door."
Then he smooths his hair with a nervous air,
And a gulp in his throat he swallows,
And that elderly guy he then lets fly
Substantially as follows:
"We had a house down Newport way,
And we led a simple life;
There was only I," said the elderly guy,
And my daughter and my wife.
"And of course the cook and a waitress trim
And the maid of the second floor,
And a strong chauffeur and a housekeeper,
And the man who tends the door."
"One day the cook she up and left,
She up and left us flat.
She was getting a hundred and ten a mon-
Th, but she couldn't work for that.
"And the waitress trim was her bosom friend,
And she wouldn't stay no more;
And our strong chauffeur eloped with her
Who was the maid of the second floor.
"And we couldn't get no other help,
So I had to cook and wait.
It was quite absurd," wept the elderly bird.
"I deserve a better fate.
"And I drove the car and I made the beds
Till the housekeeper up and quit;
And the man at the door found that a bore,
Which is why I am, to wit:
"At once a cook and a waitress trim
And the maid of the second floor,
And a strong chauffeur and a housekeeper,
And the man who tends the door."
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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My Grandmother
When she would talk about her mother,
it was as though there were another person in the room
She could see her mother in her mind;
It was as if my grandmother was dancing across the kitchen floor
It was as if she were talking about an imaginary person
who was not in the room
Her mother was in her mind
My mother was standing on the kitchen floor, cleaning a glass, and thinking of my grandmother
I could see it through the silence
poem by Samuel Stuart Pennell
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Learning How To Rocknroll
Billy on his way to school
Didnt care too much about the teachers and rules
But he had a plan he said hed try it one day
One he knew would leave them all with nothing to say
He had a friend who said hed teach him how to rock and roll
After school when he was feelin good
Hed go home and do the things that he understood
He would rock in the kitchen and roll in the hall
And billys mother said you got no sense at all
But we know too well that he was
Learning how to rock and roll
cos he would rock in the kitchen roll in the hall
Stand on the tv and climb up the wall
Jive on the ceiling lay on the floor
Crawl through the bathroom and cry out for more
And thats the only way to do it
When youre learning how to rock and roll
Teach me to rock...
Willy turns to the mirror and gives his hair a flip
He would mime to elvis and curl his lip
Ha ha in the kitchen
Ha ha in the hall
Willys mother said you got no sense at all
But we know too well that he was
Learning how to rock and roll
cos he would rock in the kitchen roll in the hall
Stand on the tv and climb up the wall
Jive on the ceiling lay on the floor
Crawl through the bathroom and cry out for more
And thats the only way to do it
When youre learning how to rock and roll
Teach me to rock...
He learnt to rock and roll
And sing the blues
He learnt to head shake
While singing blue suede shoes
He learnt a hand clap
Off the beat
And at the gig he had them out of their seats
Its the only way to do it so long live rock and roll
cos he would rock in the kitchen roll in the hall
Stand on the tv and climb up the wall
Jive on the ceiling lay on the floor
Crawl through the bathroom and cry out for more
And thats the only way to do it
When youre learning how to rock and roll
Teach me to rock...
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lips Of An Angel
I hear you in the morning, i see you in the night,
My sweet angel.
I dream of you, think of you, and only of you,
My loving angel.
Take my hand, dance with me, sweep me off my feet,
My gracious angel.
Come with me, i'll take care, lift our love to the air,
My pleasant angel.
A whisper to the ear,
a kiss to the lips,
My heart-tendering angel.
poem by Darlene Belcher
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From An Ant...
For my colony, I am the explorer scout;
I am sent on ahead, to sniff things out.
When I've found something tasty to eat,
Back to the nest, I beat a hasty retreat.
I inform the others of what I have found,
Then one by one, we climb above ground.
Being a scout is a dangerous occupation;
It takes a lot of guts, and sheer dedication.
Unfortunately, not everyone makes it back;
Some get squashed dead within their tracks.
If humans saw us as creatures, who are living,
Maybe they would be a little more forgiving.
Searching for food is our main passion;
We set about it in a most orderly fashion.
Any foodstuffs which are sticky and sweet,
Are among our very favourite treats to eat.
From door to kitchen, I attempt to dart,
But if I'm spotted, the world falls apart.
If one of us gets spotted, there is panic;
Suddenly, humans run around all manic.
They know I'll return, and tell my friends,
And that this is the very start: not the end.
They know full well that, if they let me go,
Then, into their home, my army will flow.
I'm like a secret agent: dressed in black;
But, against me, the odds are often stacked.
My stakeout is done with utmost precision;
I have to be quick, and make big decisions.
You just have to hope that you won't be seen,
Because humans are cruel, and they're mean.
If for too long a moment, you dare to linger,
Then SPLAT! You'll get squashed by a finger!
poem by Angela Wybrow
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I am an Angel
i am an angel,
with no wings;
i am an angel,
that has a sad song, but cannot sing.
i am an angel,
that in silience, i cry;
i am an angel,
that tells lies.
i am an angel,
with no halo;
i am an angel,
that lays low.
i am an angel,
that has an extra hand;
i am an angel,
that tries to care for everyone that i can.
i am an angel,
that steals;
i am an angel,
that has a broken heart that never healed.
i am an angel,
with some love to give;
i am an angel,
that sometimes, doesn't want to live.
i am an angel,
that wants to be;
i am an angel,
that wants to leave.
i am an angel,
that has a secret past;
i will always be an angel,
even though i sometimes move fast.
poem by Ariel Sampson
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I'm His Angel
I’m His Angel
I’m his angel the one who looks over him
I’m his angel the one who cares for him
I’m his angel the one who loves him
I’m his angel the one who has beautiful brown eyes
I’m his angel the one who has beautiful dark brown hair
I’m his angel I will be there when he gets hurt
I’m his angel I will be the one that is always on his mind
I am the angel that keeps him breathing
I am the angel of his dreams
I am the angel that keeps him alive
I am his angel that will cheer him up when he is sad
~Katie Bunge
poem by Katie Bunge
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Perseverence
Sharing
A one room
Tenement,
He toiled
When the family slept.
He sat
On the kitchen floor,
And did his calculations
On the bare floor,
With a piece of charcoal.
Calm resolve on his face,
Couldn’t care less
What the others
Had to say to demotivate.
He had a vision.
Dearth of means
Didn’t waver,
Him from his decision.
Despite ridicule,
He carried on with a smile.
Nothing could stop
Him from reaching the top.
Soon his time came,
He too had
A shot
At success and fame.
Taught his children
Hard work always pays.
Now
Everyone comes
To felicitate
And
Ask for favours.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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I Wish I Was An Angel
I wish I was an angel
So I could fly away
I know I have to go
To see a brighter day
I wish I was an angel
How happy I would be
Knowing what to do all day
Flying round in glee
I wish I was an angel
And death had passed me by
Now on my bedroom floor
I lye here and die
Now I am an angel
It’s really not that good
Now I only wish
I was in a better mood
You're my Angel
You're an Angel that nobody can see,
Still an Angel is what you are to me
An angel from heaven is what you are
In my sky you're definitely a heavenly star
You're an angel with beauty & grace
You're so kind & sweet,
you have an angel’s face
You have a pair of angel’s wings
Happiness and joy are just some things
That an angel can give
In my heart & mind is where you're living
You have hair as soft as the white clouds
A guardian angel is what I have gotten.
Your eyes are like sapphires that shine bright.
When everything is dark, you give me light.
You're an angel that gives me a reason to live,
You're an angel that teaches me to give.
You're an angel that teaches me the right things to say.
You're my angel & Ill always care.
You're my angel & you know Ill always be there.
poem by Dr Nihar Ranjan Ray
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U R My Angle
You're an Angel that nobody can see,
Still an Angel is what you are to me
An angel from heaven is what you are
In my sky you're definably a heavenly star
You're an angel with beauty & grace
You're kind & sweet, you have an angel face
You have very graceful angel wings
Happiness and joy are just some things
that an angel can give
In my heart & mind is where you're living
You have hair as soft as the white clouds
A guardian angel is what Ive gotten.
Your eyes are like sapphires that shine bright.
When everything is dark, you give me light.
You're an angel that gives me a reason to live,
You're an angel that teaches me to give.
You're an angel that teaches me the right things to say.
You're my angel & Ill always care.
You're my angel & you know Ill always be there.
poem by Ankur Garg
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Rosemary
For the sake of some things
That be now no more
I will strew rushes
On my chamber-floor,
I will plant bergamot
At my kitchen-door.
For the sake of dim things
That were once so plain
I will set a barrel
Out to catch the rain,
I will hang an iron pot
On an iron crane.
Many things be dead and gone
That were brave and gay;
For the sake of these things
I will learn to say,
"An it please you, gentle sirs,"
"Alack!" and "Well-a-day!"
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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