As If It Was A Crime
Your mother had given you
a few coins to buy sweets
and on the way you met Fay
and you said
do you want to come
and buy some sweets?
and she said
I haven't any money
and you said
you can share mine
if you tell me what you like
but she said
my father wouldn't like it
if I had sweets he says
they rot your teeth
but she walked to the shop with you
thinking silently to herself
and outside the shop
you said
are you sure?
she nodded and stood outside
while you went in
and bought sweets
when you came out
she was waiting there
her eyes gazing at you
her tongue running over
her lips
you showed her
what you'd bought
and her eyes widened
here take one
you said
your dad won't know
if you don't tell him
she hesitated
her fingers lingering
over the bag of sweets
but what if he sees me
or smells them
on my breath?
she said fear entering her eyes
her hands falling at her sides
you put out a hand
and touched hers
it's only a sweet
it's not as if
you're having a drag of a smoke
or sipping beer
she nodded and smiled a little
best not
she said
if he finds out
he'll get angry with me
for eating sweets and lying
and you remembered
the bruises you'd seen
on her arms and thighs
that time
and you sighed thinking
as if eating sweets
was a big deal or a crime.
poem by Terry Collett
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Related quotes
The Sweets Of Liberty
Is there a man that never sighed
To set the prisoner free?
Is there a man that never prized
The sweets of liberty ?
Then let him, let him breathe -unseen,
Or in a dungeon live;
Nor never, never know the sweets
That liberty can give.
Is there a heart so cold in man,
Can galling fetters crave ?
Is there a wretch so truly low,
Can stoop to be a slave?
O, let him, then, in chains be bound,
In chains and bondage live ;
Nor never, never know the sweets
That liberty can give.
Is there a breast so chilled in life,
Can nurse the coward’s sigh ?
Is there a creature so debased,
Would not for freedom die ?
O, let him then be doomed to crawl
Where only reptiles live ;
Nor never, never know the sweets
That liberty can give.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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The Devil's Sweets
The Devil’s sweets
This afternoon
I waited too soon
and let you in a secret
I hope you can keep it
I saw you sucking on the devil’s sweets
like a chocolate treat
if Dracula were around
it would make a sound
that would make the transformation complete
Don’t go
Don’t ignite the flame
Don’t spread the blame
Don’t wait
Why don’t you hesitate..
Anymore?
Like a vampire you sucked it in like a drug
don’t even come to give me a hug
because you’ve already left for the devil’s sweets
instead of me, you go to those chocolate treats
You are the spawn of Satan
Hell is your only safe haven
because you’ve tasted the devil’s sweets
your transformation is complete.
poem by Soldier's Wife
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Ye Olde Toffee Shoppe
(hicks / clarke / nash)
I press my nose against the pane
Of the little toffee shop
Day after day I save my pennies
To spend at the toffee shop
Come saturday morn at nine oclock
I stand on the cold stone street
A penny every day that I have saved
To buy myself some sweets
The nice little lady old and grey
With glasses and shawl
Gives love away to good little boys
Who do as they are told
Shes always telling stories
Of her childhood days
She couldnt buy the things that I can
For families in those days
Imagine the sweets that I can buy
With six pennies of my own
I always take my time to choose
The sweets that Ill be taking home
Gobstoppers in my pockets
Brown sugar in my hand
Lollies you suck that last all day
And sugar that looks like sand
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Long Distance I
Your bed's got two wrong sides. You life's all grouse.
I let your phone-call take its dismal course:
Ah can't stand it no more, this empty house!
Carrots choke us wi'out your mam's white sauce!
Them sweets you brought me, you can have 'em back.
Ah'm diabetic now. Got all the facts.
(The diabetes comes hard on the track
of two coronaries and cataracts.)
Ah've allus liked things sweet! But now ah push
food down mi throat! Ah'd sooner do wi'out.
And t'only reason now for beer 's to flush
(so t'dietician said) mi kidneys out.
When I come round, they'll be laid out, the sweets,
Lifesavers, my father's New World treats,
still in the big brown bag, and only bought
rushing through JFK as a last thought.
poem by Tony Harrison
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The homing bee
You are belted with gold, little brother of mine,
Yellow gold, like the sun
That spills in the west, as a chalice of wine
When feasting is done.
You are gossamer-winged, little brother of mine,
Tissue winged, like the mist
That broods where the marshes melt into a line
Of vapour sun-kissed.
You are laden with sweets, little brother of mine,
Flower sweets, like the touch
Of hands we have longed for, of arms that entwine,
Of lips that love much.
You are better than I, little brother of mine,
Than I, human-souled,
For you bring from the blossoms and red summer shine,
For others, your gold.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Stella
The mortar is not yet dried up but,
The pistol is still hanging up in the air!
For your life is between sleep and walking.
Oh Stella!
How long should i be without you?
The sweets from Africa and the sweets from my home,
With no manicure, pedicure or 'pencilcure'.
Oh Stella!
Your love is all that i do have now because,
The beautiful ones are not yet born.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Shower Of Blossoms
Love in a shower of blossoms came
Down, and half drown'd me with the same;
The blooms that fell were white and red;
But with such sweets commingled,
As whether (this) I cannot tell,
My sight was pleased more, or my smell;
But true it was, as I roll'd there,
Without a thought of hurt or fear,
Love turn'd himself into a bee,
And with his javelin wounded me;---
From which mishap this use I make;
Where most sweets are, there lies a snake;
Kisses and favours are sweet things;
But those have thorns, and these have stings.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Down the Sweet Shop
The little corner shop
full of special treats
Chocolate, bottles of Pop,
and jars and jars of sweets.
With pocket money in hand
given to me by my Dad
sometimes a little bit extra
if he heard I'd been a good lad.
I really loved that little shop
it was every young boys dream
you could get everything you'd want
Football Cards, Toys, and Ice-Cream.
My dad used the shop as well
he'd pop in to buy his fags
and Mum did her weekly shop
she'd get me to help her with the bags.
Then along came the big supermarket
the little shop began to lose it's trade
so sadly it had to close it's doors
an end of an era again I'm afraid.
But I'll always remember the little shop
stood there at the bottom of our lane
yes it may have only been small
but it had more style than any supermarket chain!
poem by Kevin Halls
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The Flower of Love
'Tis said the rose is Love's own flower,
Its blush so bright, its thorns so many;
And winter on its bloom has power,
But has not on its sweetness any.
For though young Love's ethereal rose
Will droop on Age's wintry bosom,
Yet still its faded leaves disclose
The fragrance of their earliest blossom.
But ah! the fragrance lingering there
Is like the sweets that mournful duty
Bestows with sadly-soothing care,
To deck the grave of bloom and beauty.
For when its leaves are shrunk and dry,
Its blush extinct, to kindle never,
That fragrance is but Memory's sigh,
That breathes of pleasures past for ever.
Why did not Love the amaranth choose,
That bears no thorns, and cannot perish ?
Alas! no sweets its flowers diffuse,
And only sweets Love's life can cherish.
But be the rose and amaranth twined,
And Love, their mingled powers assuming,
Shall round his brows a chaplet bind,
For ever sweet, for ever blooming.
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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Window Shopper
I stood before a candy shop
Which with a Christmas radiance shone;
I saw my parents pass and stop
To grin at me and then go on.
The sweets were heaped in gleamy rows;
On each I feasted - what a game!
Against the glass with flatted nose,
Gulping my spittle as it came;
So still I stood, and stared and dreamed,
Savouring sweetness with my eyes,
Devouring dainties till it seemed
My candy shop was paradise.
I had, I think, but five years old,
And though three-score and ten have passed,
I still recall the craintive cold,
The grimy street, the gritty blast;
And how I stared into that shop,
Its gifts so near and yet so far,
Of marzipan and toffee drop,
Of chocolate and walnut bar;
Imagining what I would buy
Amid delights so rich and rare . . .
The glass was misted with my sigh:
"If just one penny Pop could spare!"
And then when I went home to tea
Of bread and butter sparsely spread,
Oh, how my parents twitted me:
"You stood for full an hour," they said.
"We saw you as we passed again;
Your eyes upon the sweets were glued;
Your nose was flattened to the pane,
Like someone hypnotized you stood."
But when they laughed as at a joke,
A bitterness I could not stem
Within my little heart awoke. . . .
Oh, I have long forgiven them;
For though I know they did no own
Pennies to spare, they might, it seems
More understanding love have shown
More sympathy for those vain dreams,
Which make of me with wistful gaze
God's Window Shopper all days.
poem by Robert William Service
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Youth Sings A Song Of Rosebuds
Since men grow diffident at last,
And care no whit at all,
If spring be come, or the fall be past,
Or how the cool rains fall,
I come to no flower but I pluck,
I raise no cup but I sip,
For a mouth is the best of sweets to suck;
The oldest wine's on the lip.
If I grow old in a year or two,
And come to the querulous song
Of 'Alack and aday' and 'This was true,
And that, when I was young,'
I must have sweets to remember by,
Some blossom saved from the mire,
Some death-rebellious ember I
Can fan into a fire.
poem by Countee Cullen
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Oh Press Me Not To Taste Again
Oh press me not to taste again
Of those luxurious banquet sweets!
Or hide from view the dark red stain,
That still my shuddering vision meets.
Away! 't is loathsome! bear me hence!
I cannot feed on human sighs,
Or feast with sweets my palate's sense,
While blood is ‘neath the fair disguise.
No, never let me taste again
Of aught beside the coarsest fare,
Far rather, than my conscience stain,
With the polluted luxuries there.
poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Everyday Life And Chocolate
Everyday life and Chocolate.
A sweet shop in the middle of nowhere, I had bought a box of chocolate,
but had no money, the owner took my sack of hay given to me by a farmer
to make a mattress, as payment. Now I sleep on top of a big kitchen table
for fear of rats. When I get up at night to drink water, I can hear them
hissing under the floor board. The candy man’s daughter is dying, she has
always been in love with her image and can’t bear the thought of parting.
from her mirror. Last night I fell off the kitchen table, dreamed I was back
at sea and my ship was pitching and rolling, bet it gave the rats a fright.
The phone rang it was my mother, couldn’t hear what she said, bad line
between heaven and earth. Went to the candy man’s daughter’s funeral
the casket was decorated with colourful sweets and expensive chocolate,
the sermon was light hearted the priest looked as he was on a high. I don’t
eat chocolate anymore, but live on raw carrots. So slim you are fat people
tell me; my diet is carrots I say and the rush to the green grocer to buy some,
but they continue to eat sweets. Things are looking up the farmer gave me
another sack of hay and a rat catching terrier, and every morning it puts
the night’s catch on the kitchen table.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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To His Forsaken Mistress
I DO confess thou'rt smooth and fair,
And I might have gone near to love thee,
Had I not found the slightest prayer
That lips could move, had power to move thee;
But I can let thee now alone
As worthy to be loved by none.
I do confess thou'rt sweet; yet find
Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets,
Thy favours are but like the wind
That kisseth everything it meets:
And since thou canst with more than one,
Thou'rt worthy to be kiss'd by none.
The morning rose that untouch'd stands
Arm'd with her briers, how sweet she smells!
But pluck'd and strain'd through ruder hands,
Her sweets no longer with her dwells:
But scent and beauty both are gone,
And leaves fall from her, one by one.
Such fate ere long will thee betide
When thou hast handled been awhile,
With sere flowers to be thrown aside;
And I shall sigh, while some will smile,
To see thy love to every one
Hath brought thee to be loved by none.
poem by Sir Robert Aytoun
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A Sweet Man (two poems)
A Sweet Man
Wistfully, our noses pressed against the window
we'd watch the man rolling and kneading,
kneading sweet paste into a long, twisted snake.
His big strong hands worked adeptly
as the smell wafted from the door.
Our mouths watered, our eyes grew big.
Every now and then he'd look up and wink.
Sometimes he'd beckon us to come in
and we'd ask him lots of questions.
'What are those? ' 'What flavour are they? '
'Can we buy one for a penny? '
He'd never answer, he'd just carry on.
On good days, without saying a word,
he'd bag up some scraps and give us all a treat.
'How much, mister? ' We'd ask.
'Get out of it' he'd say and hand us each a bag
with a warning about our teeth
and 'I'll never make a bloody living like this'.
Sweet Man
Kneading and rolling, rolling and kneading
sweet sticky paste beneath hard hands clinging
we watched mesmerized with taste buds tingling,
our pockets empty, no pennies jingling.
Nowadays sweets come in packets, no mess,
just pretty wrappers and advertisements
I miss those days of hunger I confess,
those days of dreams and youthful wonderment.
Twisting and turning the long sausage paste
all cough candy flavoured that in its way
not only showed off his handsome, strong face
but also his softer, fatherly ways
Oh sweet, sweet man do you still knead and roll
You're sweets never so sweet as your sweet soul.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Candy Girl
I like candy, like bubblegum pop,
I like a fizzy sweet on my tongue,
That shocks the senses like a gobstopper,
And is sweet like Turkish Delight,
For candy is the name of the game,
And I enjoy those romantic lovehearts,
For many a romantic teenage love,
Started with the sucking of a special message,
Whether a simple 'I Love You' or 'Hug Me',
And we all treasured our frist love,
In our hearts, never to be forgotten.
Although we don't smoke anymore,
We all remember trying a cigarette,
Behind the bike shed, coughing and choking,
As we inhaled, and we'd suck on mints,
Or Humbugs, to freshen our breath,
And hide what we had been doing,
For we felt wild, free and naughty,
Although, we know these days how bad,
For you smoking is, still it is nostalgic.
I remember eating Honeycomb growing up,
It was always a treat and I loved every bite,
But I couldn't get past liquorish: the taste bitter,
On my tongue, but my dad loved it,
So we'd buy a tin every Christmas for him:
I think it went down a treat, and he'd reciprocate,
The wonderful dad he was,
And I remember him calling me a Candy Girl,
Because I had a sweet nature and loved sweets,
And in the cold, winter months, he'd buy me cough candy,
My throat so raw and rough that I needed relief,
And it worked wonders for me, and the rest of the family,
So much so, that we'd treat him,
To Turkish Delight on his birthday,
And he'd offer me one, saying I was mysterious,
And would never lose with my curiosity and intellect.
He had been such a wonderful dad,
And when he was a gradnparent, he'd offer my son,
Butter toffee and coca-cola lollipops,
Lollipops have always been a firm favourite of mine,
I used to love vanilla, orange and the best: cherry,
I could also taste all the colours of the rainbow with Skittles,
They had been so vibrant and sunny: even in winter,
And - as the advert says - touch the rainbow,
Taste the rainbow. This is not a sweet to be ignored.
All my friends loved bubblegum, whether strawberry,
Banana, or any other flavour; whatever, all the cool girls,
Loved their bubblegum and chewing gum,
Where we'd chew them in our morning and lunch breaks,
And where to sit down, we'd debate, for we were the cool girls,
And we all loved our sweets, but our teeth still perfect,
For it may seem we were rotting our teeth,
But we brushed them everyday and had dental treatment.
Sweets are what make me a Candy Girl:
For I am sweet inside and want you to taste my sugar,
Be my friend and someone I can depend upon,
Like the taste of jelly beans and Starburst,
That reminds me of times past,
Where my dad cared enough to make me happy,
And guide me towards being sweet, cute and loving,
Like sweets make people feel at Halloween,
And children cry 'Trick or treat! ',
And it was always a treat for me,
And a treat to live a happy life.
poem by Paula Glynn
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Fill A Glass With Golden Wine
Fill a glass with golden wine,
And the while your lips are wet
Set your perfume unto mine,
And forget.
Every kiss we take and give
Leaves us less of life to live.
Yet again! Your whim and mine
In a happy while have met.
All your sweets to me resign,
Nor regret
That we press with every breath,
Sighed or singing, nearer death.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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The Apologist
They call me the apologist
And now that Im at peak
You know at first it really hurt
We joke about these things
Ive skirted all my differences
But now Im facing up
I wanted to apologize for
Everything I was so
Im sorry so sorry
Did you understand me right
The people here are good
They tell me what I should have done
And offer what I could
Im good all is good
Alls well no complaints
When I feel regret
I get down on my knees and pray
Im sorry so sorry
I live a simple life
Unfettered by complex sweets
You think this isnt me
Dont be weak
There I go
Im so sorry
Thank you for being there for me
Thank you for listening goodbye
I can forfeit selfishness
I hope for you that you apply
This happiness
This peacefulness
Im sorry so sorry
I live a simple life
Unfettered by complex sweets
You think this isnt me
Thats so sweet
Im so sorry
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Child's Play
Bang bang your dead
shot by a long wooden stick
pretend to throw a hand grenade
when it was just a bit of brick.
Spot a bird's nest in a tree
a race to get to the top
the boy who was the slowest
had to buy the sweets in the shop.
Staging our own Wrestling bouts
between pals over the local park
thinking you were really tough
when you were still afraid of the dark.
Thinking you were really grown up
having a drink of your Fathers beer
and having a drag on a cigarette
when ever your Mother wasn't near.
Fishing for tiddlers in a dirty stream
with a worm on the end of some string
telling your mates you caught loads
when really you never caught a thing.
Football matches went on for hours
going home covered in grass and mud
we'd think we all played for England
but only one or two of us were any good.
I miss those childhood days I really do
when I was young and so carefree
everything was an exciting adventure
but now I'd need a ladder to climb up a tree!
poem by Kevin Halls
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If I Were Her Dog
Poverty clipped my wings
and left me alone wriggling in pains
I fluttered lot
I muttered lot
I nothing got
I wandered over hills and down dales
holding fast on assurances of heaven
sometimes I caught on thorns and
others; thorns caught on me.
Every day a new sun came to my door
carrying the poor old questions and set
further behind the hills leaving back
the same worries for the day to follow
Yeah! it was yesterday
I walked down a rich street
shouting aloud ‘Firewood! Take firewood '
my ribs creaked under the burden of woods
over my head. I swept quick and fast looks
around to probe the buyer of my faggot
just then, a sight met my eyes.
Ah! there on steps of a Bungalow, was a girl
far fair and bursting with voluptuousness
she lavishly plied her dog with sweets.
my mouth watered and I wished I were the dog!
I might have eaten the sweets my fill
I must have chances to ride in her car
In her company, I might have enjoyed
everything, even the unspeakable? !
If I were her dog...
poem by Madhav Sarkunde
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