En.Citatepedia^®.ro

After Sammy Left.

Dottie has the made the
bed where Sammy slept,
bakes a cake, picks flowers
from the garden to put in
the small vase on the table.

Sammy has gone away
after his three day stay.

Willie's asleep in bed,
his window open to catch
dawn birdsong, smell of
flowers, air's heavy scent.

She pops a pill that Sammy
left; will help you sleep he
said, during their late evening
walk in the nearby woods,
as Willie recited his poetry.

She puts two teabags in
the pot, pours in water,
lets it stand, hot steam
coming out the spout.

They have the house
to themselves again,
no more having to keep
the sounds down, no
need to whisper anymore.

She pours the tea
into Willie's cup,
adds milk, sugar and
stirs, pours tea for herself
with no milk, or sugar, sips
slow through pursed lips.

She climbs the stairs to
Willie's room, teacup
and saucer on a small tray,
few biscuits and a pill.

She watches her brother
sleep, his head facing
the window, his arm
outside the duvet, his
hand open, a finger
pointing unwittingly
towards the pillow
where she had lain
the night before.

He breathes slowly out,
a gentle exhalation, no
snore, as she studies
him as he sleeps and
wonders what he thinks
or dreams; what poems
are born there, what
worldly wants or care.

She leaves the tea beside
the bed, she'll not disturb
his dreams or thoughts;
she gives a final look and
goes downstairs; the pill it
seems has begun to work, she
has no worldly wants or cares.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dottie Stirs at Dawn

Dottie stirs as dawn light seeps
through the bedroom curtains;
Willie breathes deeply in his sleep.

Sammy, who had arrived with
her brother Willie the night before,
sleeps in the guest room along
the passage. She listens to the birds
singing from the garden, watches
as the seeping sunlight plays on
the duvet covers like mischievous
children. She is happy; Willie is back,
Sammy has arrived with his talk of
the city, his books, the poems, but
nothing of his wife or son or daughter.

They had been up late with talk and
laughter and she had studied Sammy,
and was, she admits to herself, a little
envious of his wife to have one such
as he, when maybe it ought, she feels,
to have been her. But she has Willie.

She will always have him. He stirs then
turns over. She watches his breathing,
how his hand lies on the duvet, his
fingers still, the nails just so, neat
and trimmed. She had missed him;
missed him being there, reciting his
poems, and she writing them down,
their walks, their laying under the trees
watching the sky, or by their small lake
studying the birds, the ducks, swans
or occasional dragonfly. She looks at
the bedside clock. She will make them
breakfast and a pot of tea and go
breathe in the morning air, remember
the night. Willie had kissed her eyelids
shut to help her sleep. She can still
feel his lips there. She runs a finger
along his arm, making a snail like
move as if along a leaf or flower top.

She has missed him so. The tears she
had shed. The laying awake those nights
he was away. The headaches, the bleeds,
the monthly curse. She pauses her finger.

She has reached his hand; she rests her
hand on his, lets it lay. Oh for a fresh
morning, she whispers, oh for a new day.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dottie Waits for Willie.

Dottie wishes Willie would
return home. All night she
had twisted and turned in
his bed. She looks out of
the window of their cottage
for the postie to come with
a letter from her brother,
but there is no sight or sign.

She sighs. Later she will prepare
one of his favourite pies. He'll
bring Sammy and they'll go
for walks and talk and smell
flowers and hear the birdsongs
and sit beneath trees and study
the sky. She moves to the kettle
and switches it on and prepares
a cup of tea. One teabag, two
sugars, a small spill of milk.

She sips and thinks. If Willie
were here now he'd lay his head
on her shoulder and read her
one of his poems. She likes it when
he reads her one of his poems.

She knows them because she
scribbles them down as he recites
them as they walk along. I can't
write sitting down, he often told her.

I need to walk and breathe the
air and hear the songs of birds.
She sits and imagines him there
beside her, his head on her
shoulder as if a pillow, his
vibrating voice moving inside her.

She senses a headache coming,
feels the tremors along her nerves
like a coming storm. It is a time
of bleeds. The moon's pull drags
her down. If Willie were here he'd
say, Go lay down and I will come
bring you pills and water and kiss
it better. But her brother is away
bringing Sammy. The clouds are
gathering, dark grey and heavy,
the sky becoming black, oh, she
says, if only my Willie was back.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After Willie Had Gone

Dotty lies in Willie's bed,
he's gone to fetch Sammy
his poet friend and will return
in a few days. She sniffs
her brother's pillow, smells
his hair oil and aftershave.

She snuggles into the bed
for warmth, pulling his duvet
tight around her, imagining
it's him holding her, his arms
about her. She has a headache,
a coming near the edge, migraine.

Feels sick, light leaking through
the curtains makes it worse.

She puts her head under the
duvet, shuts out the bright light.

She smells him better here, his
love of scent, his personal choice.

She hears birdsong from the garden,
a blue tit, great tit, unsure which.

Willie'd know. She squeezes her
eyes tight keep out whatever light
might intrude. Willie's left her some
of his poems to type up and file away.

Later in the day, she muses, once
the sickness and migraine's gone.

He had a good day yesterday with
the poems, she recalls, him reciting
over and over as they walked, her
scribbling down, pencil and pad,
her finger and thumb holding the
pencil tight until they felt numb.

After they returned home and sat
by the fire and he spoke them out
one by one. She loved the one about
winter dawn. She turns over, faces
the wall, her head buried into Willie's
warm indentation. In the darkness
she recites the poems one by one,
the words pouring from her lips,
following each other like children
out to play. She shuts out the dawn
chorus of birds that celebrate the day.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dottie Writes and Cries

Sunlight settles on the
table where Dottie writes.

Her journal records the days
since Willie left, the effects
it has had, her migraines,
the sickness, the stomach
pains, the blood loss.

She writes slowly, neat
and lucid, the pen tight
between finger and thumb.

She pauses, looks at the sunlight,
how the beams seem to dance
upon the cloth, she sucks the end
of the pen, her tongue sensing
the smoothness and plasticness.

She will write of the roses,
how they have grown, the red
like blood, the blood like that
on the sheet before the wash.

She misses her brother, his
departure to fetch Sammy
has pained her, causes her
loss of sleep, despite sleeping
in his bed, caressing his pillow.

She writes again, the pen nib
moving over the journal's page,
her eyes watching the flow,
the words settling on the paper,
the words holding the images,
the images for him, for Willie
to read and have on his return.

A bird song, she cocks an ear,
outside nearby, a robin, she
closes her eyes, grasps the sound,
turns it around in her mind.

She will write that down,
he likes birdsong, loves the
songs, the call of the wild.

She opens her eyes, begins
to write once more, she wants
to cry, pushes her eyes tight
to stop tears hitting the page.

Through teary eyes sees
the sunbeams dance on
what seems like water on
the patterned cloth, she
remembers Willie laying
his head down there once
side ways on and gazing at
her as deep fond lovers may.

She puts down her black pen,
she will write no more today.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Always Late

Hello honey, I just missed the train
My watch must have stopped I guess
Dinner is cold and the kids are asleep
I didnt mean to get you out of bed.
Always late (always late)
Yes, its always the same
Procrastination is my middle name
But the rest of the world is ahead of the game
And thats why Im always late.
Wont somebody give me a ride
Ive been out of gas for hours
My mother-in-laws flying in from the coast
Shes probably in an ambulance by now.
Willie, its time to get up
Willie, you get out of that bed,
Youll be late for work again
Willie, willie!!!
Come on honey, give me a chance
I promise to mend my ways
Lets go out for an anniversary dance
You say our anniversarys yesterday?

song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time For Tea

Scouring through the wasteland
With an uge to take
Anything that comes into view
Only ten more puffs to tea time
Ive found eating so time consuming
Willie, oh willie she cried
Its time for tea
Willie, where in hell has he gone
Its time for tea
South of the wateland at your d.i.y.
The inconsiderate rings his till
Offering plans of easy credit
Claims hell cause a killing in the school half term
Willie, oh willie she cried
Its time for tea
Willie, where in hell has he gone
Its time for tea
And welly well well well what have I found here
A hiding place made by frigid air
I think Ill try it on and give my mates a scare
Theyll all be searching neither here nor there
Willie, oh willie she cried
Its time for tea
Willie, where in hell has he gone
Its time for tea
Long depress of autumn breeze
Sucking on a rubber back teeth
Plays into the hands of the hardware man
Who selfishly I dont care

song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rambling, Gambling Willie

Come around you rovin gamblers and a story I will tell
About the greatest gambler, you all should know him well.
His name was will o conley and he gambled all his life,
He had twenty-seven children, yet he never had a wife.
And its ride, willie, ride,
Roll, willie, roll,
Wherever you are a-gamblin now, nobody really knows.
He gambled in the white house and in the railroad yards,
Wherever there was people, there was willie and his cards.
He had a reputation as the gamblinest man around,
Wives would keep their husbands home when willie came to town.
And its ride, willie, ride,
Roll, willie, roll,
Wherever you are a-gamblin now, nobody really knows.
Sailin down the mississippi to a town called new orleans,
Theyre still talkin about their card game on that jackson river queen.
Ive come to win some money, gamblin willie says,
When the game finally ended up, the whole damn boat was his.
And its ride, willie, ride,
Roll, willie, roll,
Wherever you are a-gamblin now, nobody really knows.
Up in the rocky mountains in a town called cripple creek,
There was an all-night poker game, lasted about a week.
Nine hundred miners had laid their money down,
When willie finally left the room, he owned the whole damn town.
And its ride, willie, ride,
Roll, willie, roll,
Wherever you are a-gamblin now, nobody really knows.
But willie had a heart of gold and this I know is true,
He supported all his children, and all their mothers too.
He wore no rings or fancy things, like other gamblers wore,
He spread his money far and wide, to help the sick and the poor.
And its ride, willie, ride,
Roll, willie, roll,
Wherever you are a-gamblin now, nobody really knows.
When you played your cards with willie, you never really knew
Whether he was bluffin or whether he was true.
He won a fortune from a man who folded in his chair.
The man, he left a diamond flush, willie didnt even have a pair.
And its ride, willie, ride,
Roll, willie, roll,
Wherever you are a-gamblin now, nobody really knows.
It was late one evenin during a poker game,
A man lost all his money, he said willie was to blame.
He shot poor willie through the head, which was a tragic fate,
When willies cards fell on the floor, they were aces backed with eights.
And its ride, willie, ride,
Roll, willie, roll,
Wherever you are a-gamblin now, nobody really knows.
So all you rovin gamblers, wherever you might be,
The moral of this story is very plain to see.
Make your money while you can, before you have to stop,
For when you pull that dead mans hand, your gamblin days are up.
And its ride, willie, ride,
Roll, willie, roll,
Wherever you are a-gamblin now, nobody really knows.

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kissing Willie

Breaking hearts in a market town. she eats filet of sole
And washes it down with sparkling wine.
Nice girl, but a bad girls better. qualifies in both ways
To my mind. but now shes kissing willie.
She shows a leg --- shows it damn well. knows how to drive a man
Right back to being a child.
Well, shes a --- nice girl, but her bad girls better. I can read
It in her cheating eyes and know that in a while --- well,
Shell be kissing willie. (my best friend, willie.)
Willie stands and willie falls. willie bangs his head
Behind grey factory walls.
Shes a --- nice girl, but her bad girls better. me and willie
Just cant help come, when she calls.
Now shes kissing willie. (my best friend, willie.)

song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sammy Im Sorry

sammy im sorry
sorry i didnt agree to being yours sooner
sorry for not telling you i loved you straight away
Sammy im sorry
sorry for causing you alot of pain
sorry for being the reason you couldnt see your daughter
Sammy im sorry
sorry i couldnt believe you when you first said i love you
sorry i made us argue so much over nothing
Sammy im sorry
sorry i was so moody when you wernt around
sorry i missed you so much
Sammy im sorry
sorry i never said goodbye
sorry i never accepted you were dying
Sammy im sorry
sorry i couldnt be by your side when it happened
sorry you had to handle it all on your own
Sammy im sorry
sorry your sisters are alone now
sorry i cant help them
Sammy im sorry
Sorry i cant move on
Sorry i cant do as you asked
Sammy im sorry
sorry im still crazy about you
sorry i cant leave this relationship
Sammy im sorry
Sorry i still love you when you thought it would stop
sorry i cant stop crying
Sammy I love you so much
Sammy im sorry

poem by Rachel BaByBeAr Anderson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Willie & The Hand Jive

Way back when in fifty eight
We had a move that move was great
We could walk and stroll and susie q
We could do that crazy hand jive too
Remember a cat called way out willie
A cool cat called rockin billy
Mama said to willie youll ruin my home
And you and that hand jive have got to go
cos he was hand jivin he was hand jivin
He would hand jive day and night hand jive
Willie had a girl called jivin jilly
Inhibitions she didnt have any
Willie would stop jilly kept cryin
To let him do that hand jive one more time
They were hand jivin they were hand jivin
They would hand jive day and night
Hand jive day and night
Willie and jilly got married one fall
They had a little willie junior and thats not all
Little willie got famous and its plain to see
That he did that hand jive on tv
They were hand jivin they were hand jivin
They would hand jive day and night hand jive
Always hand jivin yeah hand jivin
We would hand jive day and night hand jive
I can remember about fifty four
Rocknroll was at my door
Fifty five and elvis was king
Rocknroll was everything
Fifty six fifty seven rocknroll carried me to heaven
And looking in on fifty eight
They opened up that pearly gate
We could rock we could roll
Everyone could do the stroll
Dancin just to stay alive
We all did the crazy hand jive

song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'll Never Smoke Weed With Willie Again

I always heard that his herb was top shelf
I just couldn't wait to find out for myself
Don't knock it till you tried it, well I tried it my friend
I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
I learned a hard lesson in a small Texas town
He fired up a fat boy and he passed him around
The last words I spoke before they tucked me in
I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
My party's all over before it began
You can pour me some old whiskey river my friend
But I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
I hopped on his old bus, the Honeysuckle Rose
The party was Vegas, it was after the show
Alone in the front lounge, just me and him
With one parting puff grime creeper set in
I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
My party's all over before it began
You can pour me some old whiskey river my friend
But I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
Now we're passing the guitar, telling good jokes
I know ones a coming cause I'm smelling smoke
No I do not partake, I just let it pass by
With a smile on my face and a great contact high
I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
My party's all over before it began
You can pour me some old whiskey river my friend
But I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
In the fetal position with drool on my chin
I messed up and smoked weed with Willie again

song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Willie Wastle

Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed,
The spot they ca'd it Linkumdoddie.
Willie was a wabster guid
Could stown a clue wi onie body.
He had a wife was dour and din,
O, Tinkler Maidgie was her mither!
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her.

She has an e'e (she has but ane),
The cat has twa the very colour,
Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump,
A clapper-toungue wad deave a miller;
A whiskin beard about her mou,
Her nose and chin they threaten ither:
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her.

She's bow-hough'd, she's hem-shin'd,
Ae limpin leg a hand-breed shorter;
She's twisted right, she's twisted left,
To balance fair in ilka quarter;
She has a hump upon her breast,
The twin o that upon her shouther:
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her.

Auld baudrans by the ingle sits,
An wi her loof her face a-washin;
But Willie's wife is nae sae trig,
She dights her frunzie wi a hushion;
Her walie nieves like midden-creels,
Her face wad fyle the Logan Water:
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her.

poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Down On The Corner (feat. Lance Diamond)

Early on the evening, just about suppertime
Over by the courthouse, they're startin' to unwind
Poor kids on the corner tryin' to bring you up
Willie picks a tune out and he knows they gonna start
Down on the corner
Out in the street
Willie and the Poor Boys are playin'
Bring a nickel tap your feet
Johnny hits the washboard, people just gotta smile
Robby thumbs a gut-bass and solos for a while
Poor boy brings the rhythm on his kalamazoo
And Willie goes into a dance doubles on kazoo, hey!
Down on the corner
Out in the street
Willie and the Poor Boys are playin'
Bring a nickel tap your feet
Down on the corner
Out in the street
Willie and the Poor Boys are playin'
Bring a nickel tap your feet
Down on the corner
Out in the street
Willie and the Poor Boys are playin'
Bring a nickel tap your feet
You don't need a penny just to hang around
But if you got a nickel won't ya lay your money down
Over on the corner there's a happy noise
People come from all around to watch the magic boy
Down on the corner
Out in the street
Willie and the Poor Boys are playin'
Bring a nickel tap your feet
[fade out

song performed by by Goo Goo Dolls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Insomniacs Complaint

I take a pill to help me sleep.
I take another when I wake
To me the cost is rather steep
I got addicted by mistake.
Although I had tries counting sheep
It didn’t work I lay awake.
I take a pill to help me sleep
I take another when I wake.
From the first my sleep was deep
I found it difficult to wake.
Due to the pill I chose to take.
I still do though it’s not cheap
I take a pill to help me sleep.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Down On The Corner

Early on the evening, just about suppertime
Over by the courthouse, theyre startin to unwind
Poor kids on the corner tryin to bring you up
Willie picks a tune out and he knows they gonna start
Down on the corner
Out in the street
Willie and the poor boys are playin
Bring a nickel tap your feet
Johnny hits the washboard, people just gotta smile
Robby thumbs a gut-bass and solos for a while
Poor boy brings the rhythm on his kalamazoo
And willie goes into a dance doubles on kazoo, hey!
Down on the corner
Out in the street
Willie and the poor boys are playin
Bring a nickel tap your feet
Down on the corner
Out in the street
Willie and the poor boys are playin
Bring a nickel tap your feet
Down on the corner
Out in the street
Willie and the poor boys are playin
Bring a nickel tap your feet
You dont need a penny just to hang around
But if you got a nickel wont ya lay your money down
Over on the corner theres a happy noise
People come from all around to watch the magic boy
Down on the corner
Out in the street
Willie and the poor boys are playin
Bring a nickel tap your feet
(repeat and fade)

song performed by by Goo Goo Dolls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sickness

he cannot imagine himself
now
swallowing from pill to pill
his stomach
becoming more like
a pharmaceutical
storage cabinet

there is a pill for his
numb arms
another pill for his
acidic stomach
more pills for him
to sleep
another pill for his
throat infection
another one for his
allergies
side effects of some
drugs that he had been
taking

this sickness into death
until one day
he refuses any pill
not that he cannot pay the bill
he is ready for
the thrill

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Loved A Man

(elton john/ george martin - lyrics based on the works of dylan thomas )
Producers for bonnie: george martin
Recorded in 1988 for george martin's production of dylan thomas's play 'under milk wood'. bonnie guested with a host of other welsh stars, including anthony hopkins and tom jones. lyrics taken from careful listening.
I loved a man who's name was tom
He's strong as a bear and two yards long
I loved a man who's name was dick
He was big as a barrel and three feet thick
And i loved a man who's name was harry
Six feet tall and sweet as a cherry
But the one i love best, awake or asleep
Was little willie wee, and he's six feet deep
Oh tom, dick and harry were three fine men
And i'll never have such loving again
Little willie wee who took me on his knee
Little willie weasel was the man for me
Now men from every parish 'round
Run after me and roll me on the ground
But whenever i love another man back
Johnny from the hill, or sailing jack
I always think as they do what they please
Of tom, dick and harry who are tall as trees
But most i think when i'm by their side
Of little willie wee who downed and died
Oh tom, dick and harry were three fine men
And i'll never have such loving again
Little willie wee who took me on his knee
Little willie weasel was the man for me
Little willie weasel was the man for me
(the following is a reprise featured later)
Now when farmers boys on the first fair day
Come down from the hills to drink and be gay
Before the sun sinks, i lie there in their arms
For they're good bad boys from the lonely farms
And i always think as we tumble into bed
Of little willie wee, who's dead, dead, dead

song performed by by Bonnie Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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By The Alma River

WILLIE, fold your little hands;
Let it drop, that 'soldier' toy:
Look where father's picture stands,--
Father, who here kissed his boy
Not two months since,--father kind,
Who this night may--Never mind
Mother's sob, my Willie dear,
Call aloud that He may hear
Who is God of battles, say,
'O, keep father safe this day
By the Alma river.'

Ask no more, child. Never heed
Either Russ, or Frank, or Turk,
Right of nations or of creed,
Chance-poised victory's bloody work:
Any flag i' the wind may roll
On thy heights, Sebastopol;
Willie, all to you and me
Is that spot, where'er it be,
Where he stands--no other word!
Stands--God sure the child's prayer heard--
By the Alma river.

Willie, listen to the bells
Ringing through the town to-day.
That's for victory. Ah, no knells
For the many swept away,--
Hundreds--thousands! Let us weep,
We who need not,--just to keep
Reason steady in my brain
Till the morning comes again,
Till the third dread morning tell
Who they were that fought and fell
By the Alma river.

Come, we'll lay us down, my child,
Poor the bed is, poor and hard;
Yet thy father, far exiled,
Sleeps upon the open sward,
Dreaming of us two at home:
Or beneath the starry dome
Digs out trenches in the dark,
Where he buries--Willie, mark--
Where he buries those who died
Fighting bravely at his side
By the Alma river.

Willie, Willie, go to sleep,
God will keep us, O my boy;
He will make the dull hours creep
Faster, and send news of joy,

When I need not shrink to meet
Those dread placards in the street,
Which for weeks will ghastly stare
In some eyes--Child, sy thy prayer
Once again; a different one:
Say, 'O God, Thy will be done
By the Alma river.'

poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mary's Son

1911

If you stop to find out what your wages will be
And how they will clothe and feed you,
Willie, my son, don't you go on the Sea.
For the Sea will never need you.

If you ask for the reason of every command,
And argue with people about you,
Willie, my son, don't you go on the Land,
For the Land will do better without you.

If you stop to consider the work you have done
And to boast what your labour is worth, dear,
Angels may come for you, Willie, my son,
But you'll never be wanted on Farth, dear!

poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blind Willie Mctell

Seen the arrow on the doorpost
Saying, this land is condemned
All the way from new orleans
To jerusalem.
I traveled through east texas
Where many martyrs fell
And I know no one can sing the blues
Like blind willie mctell
Well, I heard the hoot owl singing
As they were taking down the tents
The stars above the barren trees
Were his only audience
Them charcoal gypsy maidens
Can strut their feathers well
But nobody can sing the blues
Like blind willie mctell
See them big plantations burning
Hear the cracking of the whips
Smell that sweet magnolia blooming
(and) see the ghosts of slavery ships
I can hear them tribes a-moaning
(I can) hear the undertakers bell
(yeah), nobody can sing the blues
Like blind willie mctell
Theres a woman by the river
With some fine young handsome man
Hes dressed up like a squire
Bootlegged whiskey in his hand
Theres a chain gang on the highway
I can hear them rebels yell
And I know no one can sing the blues
Like blind willie mctell
Well, God is in heaven
And we all want whats his
But power and greed and corruptible seed
Seem to be all that there is
Im gazing out the window
Of the st. james hotel
And I know no one can sing the blues
Like blind willie mctell

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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