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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Related quotes
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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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 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
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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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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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Roll Wit Me
[Pretty Willie talking]
Scarecrow .. Omaze
Know what I'm saying?
Pretty Willie Suella
[Chorus: (x2)]
You can find me back on the block wit me reallas (WITH A NEW STYLE)
Ladies start bouncin' when they hear it
And it's all good
Cause now I got Scrilla but a
I'm just a flossa baby
Come on and roll wit me
[Verse 1: (Pretty Willie)]
Now look here
I'm Pretty Willie St.Louis area
I held it down so many years but y'all didn't hear me though
The Frontline click tight camp it ain't no breaking us look
I know you feelin' this here
song performed by by Pretty Willie from Enter the Life of Suella
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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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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The Critic
I always heard that his her was top shelf
Lord I just could not wait to find out for myself.
Well don't knock it till you've tried it.
And I've tried it my friend.
I'll never smoke Weed with willie again!
Now we learned a hard lesson in a small Texas town
He fired up a fat boy and he passed it around
The last words I spoke before they tucked me in
I may discount Bungee jump but,
I'll never smoke weed with Willie again.
Chorus:
I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
My party's all over before it begins
You can't pour me some old whiskey River my friend.
But I'll never smoke weed with Willie again
We hopped on his old bus the Honeysuckel Rose
The party was Huntsville, but it was after the show
Alone in the front lounge, just me and him
I took one friendly puff and the grim creeper set in
Chorus
Now we're passin' the guitar, we're tellin' good jokes
I can tell one's a comin' 'cause I'm smellin' smoke
No I do not partake I just let it pass by
With a grin on my face and a great contact high
Chorus
In the fetal position with drool on my chin
We broke down and smoked weed with Willie again
song performed by by Toby Keith
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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Polly strips His bed
Polly strips back the sheets
where Master George has lain.
She folds the white sheets and
lays them on a chair. She lies
her head on the pillow where
his head has been. She sniffs
and smells him. Closing her eyes
she imagines she's there beside
him and he has her in his arms,
his lips against her flushed cheek.
She imagines they are in bed
together when dawn's light breaks
through the shutters and Susie
the other maid enters and wide
eyed she mouths a huge round O.
She opens her eyes; the pillow
is vacant beside her head, just
a small indentation where he had
laid his head the night before.
She fingers into the pocket of her
white apron a few black hairs she's
discovered on the white pillowcase.
She strips off the pillowcases and
puts them with the sheets. The bed
is now stripped of all coverings
and is left to air. She imagines as
she stands that he is still there,
laid out unclothed, skin all bare.
But in reality she knows he has
gone of to war as he has before.
She hopes he will return alive
and in one piece; no missing
limps or blind or gassed as some
have been she's read; but most of all
she dreads him laid out cold and damp
in some foreign field lying still and dead.
poem by Terry Collett
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Little Willie
When Willie was a little boy,
No more than five or six,
Right constantly he did annoy
His mother with his tricks.
Yet not a picayune cared I
For what he did or said,
Unless, as happened frequently,
The rascal wet the bed.
Closely he cuddled up to me,
And put his hands in mine,
Till all at once I seemed to be
Afloat in seas of brine.
Sabean odors clogged the air,
And filled my soul with dread,
Yet I could only grin and bear
When Willie wet the bed.
'Tis many times that rascal has
Soaked all the bedclothes through,
Whereat I'd feebly light the gas
And wonder what to do.
Yet there he lay, so peaceful like;
God bless his curly head,
I quite forgave the little tyke
For wetting of the bed.
Ah me, those happy days have flown.
My boy's a father, too,
And little Willies of his own
Do what he used to do.
And I! Ah, all that's left for me
Is dreams of pleasure fled!
Our boys ain't what they used to be
When Willie wet the bed.
Had I my choice, no shapely dame
Should share my couch with me,
No amorous jade of tarnished fame,
Nor wench of high degree;
But I would choose and choose again
The little curly head,
Who cuddled close beside me when
He used to wet the bed.
poem by Eugene Field
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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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Poems About.
There are poems that you will never see
Marked in a folder titled 'privacy'
Poems of hate and anger and personal pain
Poems about greed and hunger and personal gain
Poems about people I would love to see dead
Poems about women I met
Poems about relationships that have gone bad
Poems about issues with mom and dad
Poems about me, the person no one knows
Poems about places where only my soul goes
Poems I wish I could place in the clouds for all to read
Poems about lust, selfishness and greed
Poems I know will hurt those I hate
Poems I write by complete mistake
Poems I have hidden in my heart and my head
Poems about things that are better left unsaid
Poems I want to share and poems I want to retract
Poems of shame and how others might act
They stay in my psyche, they are a part of me
These poems I write, but you will never see.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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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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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
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Sleep Tight
Sleep Tight
Now hush
My little one
Don't be afraid
Your daddy's right here
It's just
A little dream
And now it's gone
There's nothing to fear
So close your eyes
I'll sing a sweet lullaby
Lay your head close to my heart
(chorus)
And sleep tight
The angels hover over you
They spread their wings
To keep you safe and warm
The starlight
In the heavens high above you
Will light a path
To find your way back home
Sleep tight
And now
My sleepy head
Your carriage waits
To take you off to bed
Let go
Your tiny hands
And drift away
To a bright enchanted land
I promise you
Your sweetest dreams will come true
Now leave this weary world behind
(chorus)
So close your eyes
And wish upon the brightest star
'cause when you dream
It doesn't matter where you are
Near to me or very far
I'll always be with you
(whispered)
sleep tight
sleep tight
sleep tight
(chorus
Yeah I'll keep you safe
Safe and warm
song performed by by Celine Dion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Clever Little Willie Wee
Clever little Willie wee,
Bright-eyed, blue-eyed little fellow;
Merry little Margery
With her hair all yellow.
Little Willie in his heart
Is a sailor on the sea,
And he often cons a chart
With sister Margery.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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What Would Willie Do
I was lost in trouble and strife, I heard a voice and it changed my life
And now it's a brand new day, and I ain't afraid to say
You're not alone when you're down and out
And I think you know who I'm talking about
When I don't know how I'll get through
I ask myself what would Willie do
What would Willie do, well he'd travel so far with nothing but a song and his old guitar
And a tour bus and some semi-trucks, thirty crew men and a little bit of luck
Well he loves all the people, the ugly and the randy
If you don't believe me take a look at the family
And they'll tell you that it's true
When skies are gray what would Willie do
Well long ago he came unto us, his words were simple but they went right through us
And the whole world sang along, but then they didn't want to hear his songs
He was gone and we thought we'd lost him
But he grew his hair and he moved to Austin
And all of the people smiled, they came to hear him sing from miles
Like a miracle all those rednecks and hippies
From New York City down to Mississippi
Stood together and raised a brew
When it's all gone wrong what would Willie do
You know sometimes I wonder when I ain't gettin' nowhere
What would old Willie do when it all gets too much to bear
And I can see him on his lonely old tour bus
And he's got his problems just like any of us
Well he'd just take a deep breath and then he'd let it all go
And he'd take another deep breath and let it all go
And he'd take another deep breath...and he'd hold it
Ah and I bet he'd feel hungry in a way that seems strange
Yeah hungry for all the things that he just can't change
Like the time he passed out in is own bedroom
And his wife sewed him up in the sheets and beat him with a broom and he forgave her
And you think that's rough, well then the IRS came and they took away all of his stuff
They took his golf course and his recording studio, and he just went out and did another show
So when it's all coming down on you
You better ask yourself what would Willie do
What would Willie do, well he'd take a little time
And talk to old rooser as he'd drive on down the line
And there's millions down that road, and with a word he's gonna lighten their load
He loves all the people no matter their races
Hell he even had a hit country song with Julio Iglesias
And that ain't easy to do, so when it's all too much, what would Willie
When the game gets tough what would Willie
When they call your bluff what would Willie do
song performed by by Gary Allan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Willie Boy
Willie Neenan from Millstreet
What a marvellous athlete
Twenty years in time have gone
Since he won a world silver medal in San Juan.
Munster and All Ireland's by the score
And other medals many more
Willie Boy was always best
Neenan first forget the rest.
Seventy years and still going great
And still a name to celebrate
More than two tousand races won
By Willie Neenan number 1.
What was he like in his prime
And that's going back a long, long time
He was something special then
And he outpaced the fastest men.
He's not one for self conceit
And he doesn't boast he just compete
Never ever heard him brag
Willie Boy is no windbag.
He'll remember eighty three
What a pleasant memory
Ireland's best and Millstreet's pride
With the World's best matched stride for stride.
And with that his greatest success far away
Some say he should have called it a day
But has he reached retirement stage
when he still beats fellows half his age?
Running he will never stop
And he'll keep running till he drop
And he'll retire that's when he die
The one and only Willie Boy.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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