En.Citatepedia^®.ro

As You Walked One Summer's Day.

These lanes are very narrow
you said
walking with Jane

from the parsonage
where she lived
to where the farm road began

Are they?
she replied
I've never thought about it

just that the hedges are high
and the birds chock full
in them and their songs

Yes
you said
They are

and in London
there are no hedges
or narrow lanes

and the only birds
are sparrows
and pigeons

and you wanted
to take hold
of her hand

and squeeze gently
the flesh
and sense her pulse

but you didn't
you put your hands
in your jean pockets

and gazed sideways on
at her and her dark hair
and her profile

and the scent of her
like lavender
as if she'd dived

into a wide field of it
and embraced
the flowers and stalks

What bird song is that?
she asked
No idea

you replied
moving closer to her
the scent getting stronger

the desire to be closer
taking hold but still at bay
It's a blackbird

she said
You'll learn them all
the birdsongs

and where and how
they nest and in what months
and you nodded

and saw how
the summery dress
moved and swayed

as she walked
the flowered pattern
like a field moved

by a soft breeze
and her sandaled feet
touching the gravelled lane

and you thinking
how it would be
for them to be held

and kissed by you
if she were beside you
lying in a field

or in one
of those tall woods
and you pursed your lips

and she looked up at the sky
her eyes gathering
the blueness

and whiteness of clouds
and she said
Monet would have captured that so well

and You
you muttered
He would capture you well

each aspect
of your face
and hair and eyes

and she smiled
and looked at you and said
I'd want to be captured by Renoir

have his arthritic fingers
clutching brush
and capture me

and maybe secretly
lust after me
and she blushed

and turned away
and you thought
Oh yes yes yes

but said nothing
just gazed
and breathed in

her being
her beauty
all there

for you to view
the eyes
the hair

the profile
the way her lips smiled
and sway of walk

and the tall hedges
seemed to explode
with the wild bird's talk.

poem by Terry Collett
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What Others May Think.

Apart from the water tower
and the farm

and a few scattered cottages
there were no other buildings

for a mile or more
just you and Jane

and birds in the early morning sky
I like it at this time of day

she said
I like the fresh smell of nature

and the farm
and having few people about

you walked beside her down the lane
that led away from the farm

you noticed how her black hair
seemed freshly washed

and blew slightly in the mild wind
does you father mind

you being out with me?
you asked softly

he doesn't know
she replied

he thinks I came out alone
for a morning walk

why didn't you tell him?
you asked

he was busy writing his Sunday sermon
and it was easier to just go out

and not disturb him
she said looking around at you

her eyes studying you
as she walked on down the lane

would he mind you being with me?
you asked

I don't think he knows you as yet
seeing as you have only moved here

a few months and don't come
to the church

you stopped and took her hand in yours
it was warm and soft

and pulsed with life
she looked at your hand

holding hers and she rubbed
her thumb over the back

of your hand
you wanted to kiss her lips

or cheek just to feel
her flesh on yours

but you didn't you just looked at her
and waited to see

what she would do next
she let go of your hand

and looked around her
there might be people looking

from those cottages up there
she said suddenly pointing up

at the rising bank which went up
to two cottages high up

if they see us they may tell Father
and then it would be awkward

and he might suspect things
and then she went quiet

and looked at the running stream
by the lane

but we haven't done anything
we just walk out and talk

and hold hands now and then
it's not what we do

it's what others think we do
she said softly

and stood looking at you
waiting for you to speak

but you said nothing
just leaned in close to her

and kissed her cheek
and said

even Christ permitted kisses
even the one from Judas

and she smiled
and the early morning sun

pushed through trees
and shone on her hair

and there was the sound of birds
singing in the air.

poem by Terry Collett
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That Summer That Love

The summer sun
warmed you and Jane

as you made your way
up the dried up

muddy track
towards the Downs

the sunlight
pouring through

the branches of trees
overhead

you thinking
of your work

on the farm below
the day before

the weighing of the milk
the clearing out

of cowsheds
and the cowman saying

what do you want to do
when you leave school?

to be a cowman
you replied

you want to get yourself
a proper job

you don't want to do this
for a living

and Jane said
breaking you

from your thoughts
I want to show you

where I used to sit on the Downs
and where I used to collect

bones and skeletons of rabbits
and moles and birds

and you turned
and looked at her

as she walked beside you
her hands swinging

as she walked
her black hair tied

in a small bun
at the back

and her yellowy flowered dress
capturing your eyes

my father works in the woods
further along

you said
he works in the ditches

and hedgerows too
she bent down

and plucked a flower
that's Squinancywort

she said
showing you the flower

as she twirled it
between fingers

she offered it to you to smell
lovely isn't it?

you nodded
and carried the scent

with you as you both
moved on up the track

she turned to you and said
your dad does well

at his work for a townie
and you smiled

and so did she
and you captured

her lips parting
and her bright white teeth

and her eyes
moving over you

like a soft caress
and she whispered

turning her head away
do you love me?

and you whispered
yes.

poem by Terry Collett
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Jane and You and the Gatekeeper

You sat with Jane
on the grass
in the field
beneath the Downs

she was looking
at the sky
and you
were watching her

her profile
her hair pulled back
in a ponytail
her eyes bright

as new coins
her pale blue dress
and white ankle socks
and brown sandals

she followed a butterfly
fluttering by
a Gatekeeper
she said

where?
you said
there that butterfly
it's called a Gatekeeper

you turned to watch
the butterfly
she had pointed to
as it fluttered off

down the field
stopping now and then
to land on flowers
I love butterflies

she said
how do you know
all their names?
you asked

I read Daddy's books
he has a number of books
on butterflies and moths
she said

she lay back
on the grass
and stared
at the sky

you lay down
beside her
your hands
behind your head

she smelt of lavender
you noticed
you breathed it in
let it fill within you

don't you read books?
she asked
turning to look at you
taking in your white shirt

and blue jeans
I'm reading a book on birds
you said
I bought it in town

the other week
that's a start
she said smiling
I guess so

you said
I didn't realize
there were so many kinds
she studied you

as you spoke
resting her head
on her hand
maybe we can go looking

for nests next year
when they begin
to nest again
she said

ok
you said
not to touch though
she said

just to look
birds don't like
their nests disturbed
in London

we only have sparrows
and pigeons
you said
how boring

she said
you watched
her lips moving
as she spoke

her eyes on you
studying you
I'm glad you're here
you said

glad to be here
she replied
she touched her fingers
to her lips

and blew you a kiss
and you did likewise
seeing a new world
in her deep dark eyes.

poem by Terry Collett
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Beneath the Blue.

You both walked along
the narrow country lane

to the small church
and lay in the overgrown grass

in the churchyard
looking up

at the summer sky
and Jane said

It's so peaceful here
I feel as if part of me

were mixed
with the whole

of nature
you listened to her

looking at her
sideways on

seeing her profile
laying amidst

the green grass
her head facing

the blueness of sky
her hands resting

upon her breasts
with one leg straight

the other lifted upwards
with the knee bent

Do you feel that?
she asked

looking at you side wards
her eyes leaving the sky

and resting on you
Yes

you replied
but not thinking

of what she had
but of the beauty of her

and you being there
and taking note

of her eyes and hair
and moving lips

and hands at rest
and her soft youthful breast

and that glimpse
of thigh capturing

your eye
Yes

you repeated
I feel a part of that

feel almost drowned
in its beauty

and she turned
and you saw her smile

and heard birdsong
and felt the sun on skin

and the saw the expanse
of sky and clouds

white chariots moving
across the blue

and wanted that moment
for always and forever

and you reached out a hand
and touched her shoulder

and would had touched
and felt her more

had you been bolder
and she said

We lay here with the dead
but our bones and flesh

are filled with life and love
unlike theirs

wasted away
Yes

you whispered
feeling her bones

beneath the flesh
Just like us some day.

poem by Terry Collett
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Cedric's Message.

Cedric approached you
in the playground and said
My sister Christina

wants to see you
on the playing field lunchtime
and he said it

in a quiet voice
as if he didn't want
the other boys to hear

he ran messages for girls
and off he went
to play with some other boys

leaving you to stare out
onto the empty playing field
and so lunch time

after you'd eaten dinner
you went onto the playing field
beneath the summer sun

and there she was
over by the wire fence
waiting for you

and you said
Cedric said you wanted to see me
and she said

Yes do you mind
if we walk off alone together
I don't want other's ears

to move in on our conversation
No sure
you said

Let's go over by the woods
by the far fence
and so you walked off with her

across the playing field
by other kids who were playing
football or sitting talking

or playing skip rope
or whatever
and when you came

to the woods
you sat down with her
and she said

You do love me
don't you?
I mean you're not

seeing anyone else?
You looked across
the playing field

to where you'd sat
with another
some months before

and she had asked
the same question
but since then

it had turned
momentarily sour
Yes and no

you said
looking back at her
taking in her dark hair

and deep eyes
and how her hand
lay on her thigh

covered by grey skirt
and her naked knees
just visible

to the eye
What do you mean
yes and no?

she asked
you watched
her lips move

and replied
Yes I love you
and no I'm not

seeing another
and she smiled at you
and put her hand on yours

and waited for a kiss
and so you did
her lips on yours

out by the woods
on that summer day
out of doors.

poem by Terry Collett
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Matter Of Beauty

That's Speedwell
and that's Red Sorrel

Jane said
pointing out

the wildflowers
as you both walked

down the lane
that led to the empty cottage

with apples trees
in the garden

and gooseberry bushes
in fruit by hedges

They all look the same to me
you said

Just flowers growing
she shook her head

and smiled and said
You townies

do you know nothing
of nature's beauty?

I'm looking at beauty now
you replied

and as you both walked on
down the lane

she in her summery dress
and you in your

open neck shirt
and faded jeans

you felt the morning sun
touching your head

like a fond mother
and the smell of flowers

and sound of birds
and she said

after a minute
or so of silence

Father says beauty
is only skin deep

real beauty lies
in a person's soul

if that soul is not blemished
by sin that is

and you looked at her
hand by her side

swinging as she walked
and the fingers curled

as if she held
something invisible

yet ready to throw
and you took in

her white ankle socks
above her brown sandals

and the calves of her legs
and her thighs

just showing
as the dress moved

and you breathed in deep
like one immersed

in water about to drown
of love or the feeling of such

and you said
I guess he's right

but I love the beauty
of skin pretty much

and she laughed
and her laughter

shooed off birds
from the tree tops around

who probably never heard
such a beautiful sound.

poem by Terry Collett
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The Drying of Hair.

Jane's mother gave you both
a towel from the airing cupboard

after you had been caught
in the rain

running from the church porch
to the parsonage

and then she went off
to carry on

with her pie making
and Jane took you

along the hallway
to her bedroom

and opened the door
and after you had entered

she closed the door
with a soft click

and you both stood there
in the quiet room

rubbing you heads
with the towels

pushing away
the wetness

from your hair
and you smelt the room

the smell of polish
the lavender scent

the smell
of fresh linen

and smell of the flowers
outside caught still

in the rain
and Jane said

You are only here
because she trusts you

she seems to see through
people's veneer

and weighs them
in the scales

in her mind
and you stood still

rubbing your hair
looking at her

the way she had
the towel in her hands

over her hair
the hair all messed up

and she having
that sparkle in her eyes

like the first spear
of the sunshine

pushing through
the window at dawn

and she gazed at you
with her eyes

like polished marbles
and her words

hung there
on the air

like musical notes
on an invisible stave

and you said
I'm glad she trusts me on

just the one look
and Jane smiled

and kissed your lips
her flesh on yours

and the pressing
of skin on skin

and she gently
moved away

and pointed to the sky
and said

Looks like more rain
and you just nodded

wanting her to kiss you
once again.

poem by Terry Collett
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Her Beautifulness.

There's an empty cottage
at the end of this lane
Jane said

and there's a large apple tree
in the garden
and no one goes there

so maybe we can look
through the windows
and see what's there

sounds good
you said
and she smiled at you

in her shy manner
and brushed her fingers
through her long black hair

and breathed in
the summer air
and there were birds

flying overhead
and a small brook
running along side

the lane
and you felt happy
being there with her

looking at her profile
at the way her eyes
looked about her

and her flowered summer dress
she said her mother made
and the way she swayed

her hips as she walked
and you sensed her nearness
her just being there

just a fingertip away
and when you came
to the empty cottage

she ran ahead and peered
through the windows
and you came along beside her

and looked through the glass
at the emptiness within
and she said

let's see if the doors are locked
and she ran to the door
and pushed but it was locked

and she said
just a chance we could have gone in
and pretended it was ours

and imagined where
we could have put our furniture
and we could have gone up the stairs

and looked out and pretended
it was our bedroom
and we had just married

and then she was silent
and you stood behind her
and touched her arm

and said
let's go pick some apples
and you can pretend

you're going to cook
an apple-pie
for our dinner instead

and she smiled
and gently pressed her lips
on your cheek

a small wet warmness
entered you
and oh

you thought
as she ran to the tree
that she would always be here

just the summer sun
and she in her beautifulness
and 13 year old me.

poem by Terry Collett
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Church Sitting

You sat with Jane
in her father's church
the bright morning sun

piercing high windows
pushing colours on flagstone floors
the silence caressed you

her nearness warmed
her ankle socks and sandals
had an innocence of strawberries

her flowered summer dress
rode up to her thighs as she sat
her hands resting on her knees

can you feel that breeze?
she said
cooling isn't it

you sensed it as she spoke
yes I can
you replied

your eyes moved along her thighs
then lifted to her face
as partial sunlight

seemed to show
grace there on skin
and dark black hair

and you watched her lips move
as she spoke and said
I was christened here

and maybe I'll be wed here too
to whom?
you asked

and she looked at you
a thirteen year old boy
then looked away

some birdsong from outside
had caught her ear
and she turned her head

and you gazed
at her neck and jaw
and saw her beauty

in a way you had not before
sunlight catching her
as it had coloured patterns

on flagstone floor
you wanted to reach
and touch her arm

her skin and sense
her pulse of life
that pumped within.

poem by Terry Collett
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Judy and You and Chagall

What did you think
of the Chagall postcard print
I bought you?
Judy asked as you both sat

outside the Fox Inn
I pinned it on my wall
you replied
and stared at it every time

I entered the room
thinking of you
she sipped her drink
her eyes searching you

her hair tied behind
in a ponytail
so I gathered
by your letters

she said
putting her glass
on the small wooden table
I missed you

you said
I went to London
while you were away
and saw you

in every girl I saw
even at the ballet
at the opera house
she looked at her glass

I was only away for a week
she said
it seemed a year
you said

you inhaled the cigarette
you were holding
taking in her hair
and eyes and how

her lips moved
as she spoke
Florence was fantastic
she said

I picked out
that Chagall print for you
in one of the art galleries
who did you go with?

you asked
friends
she replied
male or female?

both
she said
you inhaled the cigarette again
and thought of the first time

you kissed her
how the moonlight
shone on her face
as you moved her around

you mustn't be so jealous
she said
I have to see others
who was the guy?

Henrik
she said
you imagined her
and this Henrik

making out
in some Florence hotel
his hands touching her
I thought of you

every moment
you said
that's sad
she said

why?
you said
because no one
should think of another

that often
she sipped her drink
and looked around
at the evening sky

how was Florence?
beautiful
she said
like you

you said
I am like Shakespeare's' lily
she said
as it withers

she added
I see
you said
and you studied

her hands as they lifted
the glass to her lips
the fingers
the skin

the way they held
the glass
did you read my letters
when you got home?

you asked
yes
she said
every single one

my mother said
I must have besotted
some poor soul
and you thought

of the Chagall print
and how you had sniffed it
for traces of her scent
and remembered

your mother's words
nothing is given forever
things in this world
are only lent.

poem by Terry Collett
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Time to Lose.

She was there
in the church
arranging the flowers

at the altar end
where her mother said
she'd be when you knock

at the parsonage door
some moments back
and you entered

through the old oak door
into the silence
and smell of age and flowers

seeing her
in her summer dress
unaware you stood there

her hands touching
flowers in vases
moving them into place

an intenseness
on her face
you moved slowly

down the aisle
not wanting to disturb
or cause alarm

then Jane turned
and smiled and said
I've nearly done

and tapped the flowers
in the final place
Where shall we go?

You moved closer
to where she stood
and said

To Heaven
if we're good
they say

she shook her head
and said
I meant where

about outside?
Wherever you like
you replied

studying her hands
as she wiped them
on her summer dress

how the fingers lay
how some god
brought them

to such beauty
and her eyes
and hair

and her
just standing there
enough

you mused inside
not out
to bring one to a faith

of some creative god
and she said
Why do you stare?

What holds you
rooted there?
Let's go climb

the Downs and look across
the vast expanse
of fields and trees

and birds in air
just you and me
and this love

just being there
Oh how romantic a mood
holds you today

she said and put her arm
through yours
and moved you on

and down the aisle
between the pews
unaware as youth

too often does
of hours passing
and having time to lose.

poem by Terry Collett
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A Matter of Trust on a Summer's Day

Jane's mother said
she was up by the church
and so you went up

the path leading
to the church of St Mary
and there she was

laying some flowers
on a gravestone
she looked up

as you approached
and smiled
your mother told me

you were here
you said
I think Mother

must like you
she wouldn't
have told you

otherwise
Jane said
getting up

from the graveside
and brushing her hands
on her summery dress

who are the flowers for?
you asked
looking at the flowers

placed in a small jar
on the grave
a parishioner

we used to know
who used to like
this type of flower

oh I see
you said
looking at the graves around

and the Downs further back
and the trees nearby
where did you want to go?

you asked
how about a walk to Cocking?
we can do some shopping

while we're there
and enjoy each other's
company in the process

is it far? you asked
a mile or so
she replied

ok
you said
and you followed her

down the path
and along the lane
to her house

and you waited outside
while she went inside
after a few minutes

her mother came out
with her and said
it's very good of you

to go with Jane
all that way
I wouldn't like her

to go alone
that's all right
you said

and she smiled
and went in side
and Jane said

see she trusts you
not many boys
around here

she'd say that to
oh right
you said

looking at
her dark hair
and her eyes

gazing at you
and her hand
holding a shopping bag

and her lips
breaking into a smile
come on

she said and
so she took
your hand

and you walked
along the lane
keeping close

to the hedgerow
the sun warm
and the sky blue

and you sensed a joy
of it being
just her and you.

poem by Terry Collett
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Saturday Morning 1961

Jane climbed off
the Saturday bus to town

her black hair ruffled
by the wind

her eyes
looking over at you

her mother close by
you standing by the wall

having climbed from the bus
a few moments before

your mother stood
and spoke to others

you watched as Jane buttoned up
her coat against the winter cold

her fingers turning blue
then she moved over to you

and said
I saw you by the water tower last night

as we drove by
my father visiting

a parishioner in the village
I was watching the sun

moving beyond the Downs
you said

like some giant moving
away to sleep

she smiled
and surreptitiously

she touched your hand
her mother's head

looking the other way
talking to your mother

of her husband's work
of church or of weather

or whatever
you gazed at Jane's eyes

the turn of head
the smile on lips

the way her hands touched
oh to be with her

away from others
to talk and walk

and capture each moment
with her closeness

but then her mother
moved away to shop

and Jane followed
just behind

and as she walked away
you painted her figure

and beauty
in your mind.

poem by Terry Collett
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Maundy Thursday and Later.

Maundy Thursday. The church
Was packed. Full of incense.
Miss Dogberry sat at the back.
Mudrift watched her. He studied her.
The way her hair hung black and long.
Her broad bridged nose. Sat next to her.
She unaware. Priest proceeded with
The service. Miss Dogberry smelt Mudrift’s
Scent passions were stirred. She sniffed
Heavy her nose breathed deep. A bell
Was tolled. Candles were lit. Mudrift felt
Love or was it lust? Moved closer his thigh
Touched her thigh. Priest’s hands were
Raised host lifted high the Crucified the
Bloodied lamb. Miss Dogberry whispered
Softly do you sense it? Mudrift nodded
His loins stiffened. The last supper the Judas
Gone the Magdalene followed him out.
My place or yours? Mudrift muttered.
Mother’s at home Dogberry said no privacy.
Mudrift took her his hand in hers. I live alone
Mudrift muttered no disturbance. His room
Was warm smelt of old smoke and beds unmade.
He offered drinks and put on jazz with lights
Turned low. She undressed slow hand holding
Out each small item. Mudrift watched her
The nakedness revealed the plump body
The broad bridged nose the soft flesh lips
The melon breasts. Is that Stan Getz?
She asked Mudrift that baritone’s his
Saxophone. Mudrift nodded his mind on
Sex not saxophones or soft jazz tones.
He kissed her lips his arms embraced her
Ample flesh. She didn’t mind his lack of hair
On balding head or bearded face rubbing
Her chin. She wanted sex and saxophones
And him within. Maundy Thursday.
The Crucified above the bed upon a cross
Nailed hands out wide eyes looking down
Head to one side. Mudrift made love the
Magdalene Miss Dogberry gazed up above.

poem by Terry Collett
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The Summer Recess of 62.

It was the second day
of the summer recess
and Judith and you
walked through the field

behind her house
and sat down on the grass
the sky above blue
like an upside-down ocean

with the white clouds
like small fluffy islands
and she said
Mother doesn't trust you

why not?
you asked
she doesn't trust any male
she says they're all after

the one thing
you looked at her
sitting there beside you
her hair brown and curly

and her eyes blue
and bright
and you said
not all males

are the same
she looked up
at the sky
and said

I know but that's
how she sees things
my mother likes you
you said

she says you're good for me
keep me focused
she smiled
and lay back

on the grass
and you lay
beside her
and turned

to look at her there
taking in her profile
and she turned
to face you

and she said
does your mother
trust us to be together?
sure she does

you said
an airplane
went over the sky
a sparrow hawk

hovered above
its eyes watching
and waiting
you put your hand

on her hip
and she placed
her hand on yours
you felt her hipbone

beneath her green skirt
moved your palm
gently over and over
she moved your hand

off of her hip
and said
just in case
mother's looking at us

from the upstairs window
would she?
you asked
of course

she said
she held your hand
and took it
and laid it

on her breast
her heart
somewhere beating
your hand sensing

the softness beneath
the white blouse
and she said
just as well

she never saw us
last Christmas
and you smiled
and remembered

and the sparrow hawk
flew off through the sky
and the sound
of a distant train

and your heart thumping
like the downpour of rain.

poem by Terry Collett
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Jane and You and the Hollow Tree.

Jane waited for you
by the narrow road
that led to Linch farm

the water tower visible
against the afternoon sky
of pale blue and white

cold clouds
she was dressed
in a grey coat

and her dark hair
was pinned back
with grips

you noticed
blueness
about her lips

the cold taking toll
wasn't sure
if you would show

she said
the coldness
and such

I said I would
and I say
what I mean

you replied
once you were close to her
she took her hands

out of the coat pockets
and linked her arm
through yours

where shall we go?
she asked
you know it better

around here than I do
you choose
you said

let's go up
the dust track
to the hollow tree

on the way up
to the Downs
she said

ok
you said
and so you walked along

and up the dust track
side by side
and she talked

of the wintery trees
and what birds
there were still about

and how she liked
spring best with the coming
of flowers and birds nesting

and you listened
looking at her
as she spoke

watching her lips move
how when she spoke
her white teeth showed

and now and then
her tongue would show
and it reminded you

of that kiss she gave you
up by Diddling church
as you stood looking

at the grave stones
and she gazed at you
and then kissed

and her tongue
touched yours
and it was like heaven

as if someone
had opened up
your heart

and stuck
their tongue in there
and as you thought

about that kiss
she talked of some girl
of a cowman

who'd got pregnant
and how did that happen?
she asked

and you said nothing
but listened on
and then you reached

the hollow tree
and climbed inside
and sat down

looking out
of the hole
in the side

and it felt cosy
in there
like a small home

and she leaned
in against you
and there was silence

and you looked at her
at her eyes
and hair

and how her lips
were parted
and her white teeth

showed and her tongue
waiting to speak
and you wondered

about that kiss again
and whether
it would happen this time

there in the hollow tree
out of sight
of others

and she showed you
tucked between
her small breasts

a small locket
which used to be
her mother's.

poem by Terry Collett
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What Cedric Said About His Sister.

Cedric followed you
around the playground
at high school

it seemed he wanted
to say something to you
but instead he just followed

you around until
as you stood looking over
at the playing field

where kids were gathering
in their break period
he said

my sister likes you
how do you know?
you asked

because she told me
he replied blushing
looking over at the playing field

isn't she your twin?
Yes
he said

going red
gazing at his sister
standing with a group

of friends on the field
you looked over at the girls
at Cedric's sister waving a hand

so that's Christina
yes
he muttered

the one with the dark hair
and waving a hand
then he went silent

and looked at you
Mother said she's too young for boyfriends
he said after a few moments

but she doesn't listen
she does what she wants
so she told me to tell you

she likes you
and so you nodded
and waved your hand

back at the girls
and there was an explosion
of giggling and laughter

and waving of hands
and then they ran off
onto the field

and as they ran off
you noticed Cedric's sister
had a cute butt

but you didn't tell him that
you just turned and said
fancy a game of ball?

and he just nodded
and said nothing more
about his sister at all.

poem by Terry Collett
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Fay and You and The Fading Bruise

Fay met you
at the bus stop
on the New Kent Road
she was dressed

in the lemon coloured dress
you liked
and her hair
was pulled tight

into a ponytail
where are you going?
she asked
to the Globe

you said
what Shakespeare's Globe?
she asked
no the fleapit cinema

at Camberwell Green
you replied
oh
she said

I've never been there
my daddy doesn't like
me going to cinemas
he says they're

dens of sin
she looked at you
as if you would confirm
her father's words

well it's certainly a den
you stated
but whether its
of sin I don't know

she looked puzzled
and touched
her ponytail
with her hand

are you coming along?
you asked
she looked about
as if her father

might be behind her
should I?
she asked
do you want to?

yes
she replied
then let's go
but I haven't any money

she said
I have enough
you said
my Mother gave me money

for chores I did
oh I see
she muttered
and she bit her lip

what would my daddy say
if he saw me?
he won't
how can you be so sure?

trust me
you said
fathers know little
of what their kids do

she smiled
if you think so
she said
sure I do

besides it'll
do you good
you said
giving her a smile

and then the bus came
and you both got on
and sat next
to each other

and you paid
the bus conductor
the fare
and as the bus

moved off
you both swayed
to the motion
of the bus

her arm touching yours
the fading bruise
on her flesh
a mixture of yellow

and brown
and blue
but you said nothing
besides you thought

if her old man
beats her
what the hell
can I do?

poem by Terry Collett
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Rainy Day Under Trees

She stood with you
under the trees

the rain falling hard
the Sunday church service

had been a wet affair
the walk home together

then the bus
to the end of the road

and she said
Is it ever going to stop?

her hair was limp
and hung over

her forehead
her eyes bright

her complexion white
Sure

you said
But I've built an ark

in the woods behind
just in case

and she laughed
and took your hand

and said
How any animals

have you got so far?
Couple of woodlice

and beetles
and the odd worm or so

and you smelt
the scent on her

the warmth
of her hand

in yours and you both
under the trees

out of the rain
but the drops fell through

You remember that time
we went to the hay barn

to keep out of the rain
and we were wet through

and took of our clothes
and lay in the hay?

she said
snuggling closer to you

No can't say I do
you said

and she smack your arm
and said

Oh yes you do
and there was a break out

from the sun
through the branches

as if you say
I' still here

I'm trying to get through
and she looked at you

and you smiled
and said

I can still smell the hay
and you lying there

beside me
and the damp clothes

hanging over the hay bale
and you and I close

and warmth
and then she put

her finger to her lips
and shushed you

and drops of rain
came onto her head

Let's keep it kind of holy
she said

and kissed your damp ear
her lips like a blessing

soft skin on soft skin
and she moved away

and the rain eased
and you both moved out

into the woods
pleased.

poem by Terry Collett
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One Afternnon that Summer.

Despite the fact
that other local kids

were in the hay barn playing
Jane stood at the barn doors

looking in apprehensively
and you stood beside her

waiting for her to move in
or say something

but she just stood looking in
are we allowed in to play?

she asked
sure as long as we don't

cause damage to the hay bales
you replied

and she sniffed the air
and moved in

and looked around
the huge barn

with its semi dark
and smells of hay

and captured sun
and warmth

the other kids played
but took no notice

of Jane or you
as you entered

closed the doors
and moved around

the hay strewn floor
haven't you been

in a hay barn before?
you asked looking

at her bright summer dress
and white socks and sandals

yes years ago
she said

as she paused
at the edge

of the nearest hay bale
and sat down

and you sat beside her
in the semi dark

with sunlight making
small light through cracks

and holes in the walls
I don't like mice and rats

she said
and I saw one once

in another barn
and it frightened me

you sat in silence
for a few moments

taking in the air and smells
and then the other kids

ran off out side
into the sunlight

talking of playing
down by the pond

and catching things
you sat still

until their voices died off
and then she said

why have you
brought me in here?

you looked at her eyes
in the dull light

and her lips moving
with their small speech

to be alone with you
without prying eyes

you said
oh I see

she replied
and stood up

and climbed upwards
on the hay bales

with you following
behind her

seeing her sway
as she moved

her hands pulling
her upwards

her legs taking each step
onto a hay bale carefully

then having reach
high up in the barn

she sat down
and you sat beside her

if my father saw me here
he'd think things

Jane said
and she looked at you

with her large eyes
what things? you asked

watching her lay back
with her hands

behind her head
I don't know

he never said
she muttered

as she lay there
she lifted a leg

and her dress
slipped downwards

revealing a glimpse
of naked thigh

that's parents for you
you uttered

never saying
what they think

or saying things
but don't explain

you lay down
beside her

on the hay
as outside the barn

the soft sound
of pitter patter

on the roof
of sudden rain.

poem by Terry Collett
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