But She Knew
But I know
she said
that you love me
and you were sitting
by the pond
you with that cheap fishing rod
which caught nothing
and she sitting there
her hands over her knees
gazing at the still surface
even if you don’t
say it often
she added
laying her chin
on her knees
her green skirt
just above her knees
and you caught
a glimpse of her thighs
where the skirt rose up
I do you love
you said
holding the rod
between hands
it’s just I don’t see the need
to keep on saying it
you added
stretching your eyes
to go as far
as they could
to get a better look
and she said
why do you come here
to fish when you catch
nothing except a cold
in the neck
and stiff joints
and do you want a smoke?
She pulled out
a pack of cigarettes
and you let a hand free
from the rod
and took one
and she put one
between her lips
and lit it with a pink
plastic lighter
then lit yours
and you both
inhaled and exhaled
the smoke rising
over the pond
seeming to sit there
in the still air
and she said
between drags
I do know you love me
I can feel it
in my bones
and in my tingling
flesh at night
as I lay abed
and you thought
of that image
knowing her mother
would be about
the house
with her stern features
and sharp tongue
and beady eyes
but the image was good
you thought
sitting there beside her
in silence
with the drifting smoke
over the pond
and her hand
touching you
and the sky
turning from
dull grey
to a soft blue.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Not For Me
Not for me she said
I don’t want to end up
like my mother
I want to reach out
and touch real life
and not end up
some man’s wife
and be endlessly
at his beck and call
and she sat
by the pond
looking over
to the other side
where the woods were dense
and reached out
and touched your hand
and you wondered
if there were still fish
in the pond
and if when
you brought your rod
the following day
you’d catch any
and you liked the way
the sunlight caught
the pond’s skin
and she said
I want to feel
being alive
feel the electric of life
run through my veins
and she leaned over
and kissed you
and placed her hand
between your thighs
and touched the hardness
of your crotch
and you said
do you know how big
the fish was
that got away
when I fished here last?
And she said
no but I know how big
the one I’ve caught is
and laughed
and released her hand
and gave you one
of her stares with her
large passionate eyes
and you noticed
a lone big bird in black
moving across
the bright blue skies.
poem by Terry Collett
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What Was Once
She would often stare at you
sitting by the pond
the summer sunlight
playing there
on the waters' skin
the holidays
having just begun
and she'd say
you do love me don't you?
and you'd look away
from the sunlight's dance
and reply
of course I do
and you'd see that look
in her eyes
like worlds
being born
and she'd say
Mother wouldn't want
me here alone with you
and you looking back
at the pond's water
would say
why is that?
what have I done
to cause her alarm?
Birds flew across
the pond
their cries breaking
the silence of the summer day
she moved her hand
and touched your hand
resting on the dry earth
because she's jealous of me
being loved I suppose
or maybe she thinks
we do things while alone
you look back at her
the way she sat
the skirt lifted
along her thigh
her hand squeezing yours
that summer
that love
the fresh life
of loving
the being
out of doors.
poem by Terry Collett
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By The Pond In Shade
She sat down with you
by the pond
the summer heat
and dragonflies
skimming across
the water's skin
and the odd duck or so
setting down there
and she said
I want to have kids one day
and be a good mother
and make my kids happy
and meet their needs
and not be a moaning mum
like my own
and you looked at her
taking your eyes off
the ducks and dragonflies
and letting them rest
upon her face
and wondered how Rubens
would catch her
or maybe Renoir
and you said
I'm sure you will some day
and they'll be lucky kids
and maybe you won't moan
or chide too much
and then silence
as you swam over
her features
her eyes
her nose
her rose kissed cheeks
the way she sat
her elbows on her knees
the summer skirt
showing a little thigh
and she said
pointing to the water
we used to swim in there
when we were young
before mother caught us
with that Barber boy
but it was fun
and innocent
but she never saw things
that way
and then she smiled at you
and you said
wish we could go swim there
like that today
while the sun's out
and the dragonflies
are skimming
and the ducks are here
but she just shook her head
and laughed
and ducks flew off
but dragonflies stayed
where you sat with her
by the pond
in cool of shade.
poem by Terry Collett
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Judith and You and A Morning Mist
The morning mist
that hung over
the pond (or your lake
as Judith called it)
had moved away
by the time she came
and stood next to you
wrapped up in her
Sunday best
waiting until the time
for the bus to take
you both to sing
in the church
her breath flowing out
on the air
like cigarette smoke
her eyes focused
on the skin
of the still water
I dreamt of you
last night
she said
you and I
were snuggled
together in my bed
having made love
you watched
a magpie take flight
over the water
nice
wish I could
have been there
in person
you said
more breath
left her lips
and rose upwards
maybe next time
you can
she said
turning her head
spreading her lips
into a smile
just be my luck
your mother
will invade the dream
and catch us
you said
yes
Judith said
that would
spoil the dream
some what
there was a mist
over the pond earlier
you said
it looked beautiful
she turned
and stared
over the water
I missed that
as you missed
making love to me
in my dream
she whispered
drawing closer
her hands
taking hold
of yours
what did you
dream about?
she asked
an empty bed
and cold sheets
and a space
where you should
have been
you said
she smiled
and said
I couldn't be
in both beds
at once could I?
once more
there was the rising
of her breath
you couldn't tell her
you'd seen
an image
of her death.
poem by Terry Collett
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Don't Know When
Don’t know when
she said
but as she spoke
her breath rose
like cigarette smoke
in the morning air
and it fascinated you
more than the words
like when your father
blew smoke rings for you
as some kind
of cheap entertainment
but
she said
it will happen
I promise you
and your lack
of response
still gazing
at her breath rising
made her repeat
don’t know when though
and jabbed
at your chest
with her finger
oh ok
you said
coming back
to the moment
her blue eyes
fixed on you
the depth of them
like pools
of blue water
and oh how
to drown there
the thought arose
wanting the when
to be
as soon as
and the image
of her back then
with her eyes
and smile
and that way
she had
of bringing life
to a dull day
like some
top notch dancer
not knowing then
of her death
years later
of cold creeping cancer.
poem by Terry Collett
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Smoke Two Joints
(she was living in a single room with three other individuals.
One of them was a male and the other two, well, the other two were females.
God only know what they were up to in there.
And furthermore susan, I wouldnt be the least bit surprised to learn that all four of them
Habitually smoke marijuana cigarettes... reefers)
I smoke two joints in the morning.
I smoke two joints at night.
I smoke two joints in the afternoon, it makes me feel alright
I smoke two joints in time of peace, and two in time of war
I smoke two joints before I smoke two joints,
And then I smoke two more
Smoked cigarettes til the day she died
Toke a big spliff of some good sensimillia
Smoked cigarettes til the day she died
Toke a big spliff of some good sensamill...
Easy-e were ya ever caught slippin? hell no!
Daddy he once told me son you be hard workin man
And momma she once told me son you do the best you can
But, then one day I met a man who came to me and said
Hard work good, and hard work fine but first take care of head
(guitar solo)
Whoa, rock me tonight,
Whoa-oh, jah sake,
Whoa-ohh
song performed by by Sublime
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Julie and You and Christ
Julie was walking
down Oxford Street
with you
one of her hands
was in yours
the other was holding
a cigarette which she put
to her lips and drew on
and exhaled the smoke
and said
pushing smoke
into the world
do you think Christ
ever came?
of course
you replied
the whole calendar
of the Western world
is spilt before and after
his coming
she inhaled deeply
and stopped to peer
in a shop window
don't like that dress
it's too darn middle class
too safe
you looked at the dress
in the window
at the colours and style
would your mother where it?
you asked
she'd wear it
but I wouldn't
be seen dead in it
she said
moving you on
squeezing your hand
reminding you
of the quick grope
and sex in the small cupboard
off the ward
where she was staying
while trying to kick
the drug habit
she spread out
amongst brooms and boxes
and you there gazing at her
wondering if some domestic
would find you there
well? do you think
Christ really came?
she asked
yes
you said
he split history in two
he made people
either love him
or hate him
and want to destroy him
and what he stood for
she laughed and said
you certainly got him
under your skin
I don't think he came at all
she said
before inhaling
her cigarette smoke
I think it was all
a big joke played out
on the Jews
to get them riled
she inhaled
her cigarette smoke
and was silent
as you walked on
down the Street
it was no joke
being crucified
no joke hanging there
on that cross
you said
she pulled you
into a shop doorway
and kissed you
and said
oh forget about him
and his crucifixion
I've had enough
of the parents
ramming him
into my brain
over the years
and she kissed you again
and you looked
into her dark eyes
where you thought
many a dream comes
and drowns
and dies.
poem by Terry Collett
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Flippity Floppity Plop
am sitting by the side of a pond,
the fresh morning crisp,
full of new born oxygen,
waiting to meet my lungs
am sitting watching still waters,
the liquid surface glassy,
thin like gossamer,
unbroken by bulbous eyed frogs
am sitting inhaling the silken fog,
the moist sweetness enlivening
wispy blanket around,
wrapping me in my thoughts
am sitting listening to birds,
deep distant sounds,
some quarreling, others singing,
my eardrums playing along
am sitting giving nature company,
lilies quietly rubbing their eyes
lazy morning stretching her arms,
sunlight plucking his guitar
am sitting by the side of awe,
when a cheery little fish
breaks through the surface
and flips me a good morning plop
poem by Prathap Suthan
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Beach Chairs
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the setting sun
holding hands and reminiscing
how it all begun
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the ships out on the sea
holding hands and smiling
together we're meant to be
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching people walking past
holding hands and knowing
that our love will always last
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the waves along the shore
holding hands we realize
our love is stronger than before
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the changing tide
holding hands with happiness
to be by each others side
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the sunrise
holding hands with tears of joy
there are no more good-byes
poem by Joyce Ebrecht
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Her Sexuality
Even her mother
never knew
how much
sexuality boiled
beneath the surface
how much
she thought of it
when sitting down
in some cafe
watching men
at some nearby table
fantasizing
about them
dreaming about
what they might do
if she allowed
or while sitting
at the office typing
her mind on things
which’d make
her mother blush
the mighty rush
of images
and desires
and old Mr Fleet
talking to her
about some work
not knowing that fires
burned beneath
her flesh and skirt
that she made love
to herself
while in bed
while others slept
and even Kennedy
the office ram
would have choked
on things she did
in dreams or wrote
in her locked up diary
and once
when some girlfriend
of her brother’s
stayed the night
and shared her room
and bed
she fantasised
of touching
and turning over
and kissing
all in the mind
she told herself
just one of those things
and even later
when she finally married
and lay beside him
at night having
sucked him dry
she’d stared
out the window
at the silver moon
in the dark sky.
poem by Terry Collett
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Hey, Hey
Oho, baby, I'm in love again,
I love the way you baby talk,
Oho, baby, I'm in love again,
I love the way you babe walk that walk
You're driving me out of my mind,
I'm losing my self-control.
Hey, hey, I'm in love again,
Falling down on my knees,
I never thought I'd ever feel this way again.
I was walking out late last night, Hanging out in Central Park,
Saw a man coming up with a light in his eyes, Shinning out in the dark,
He said, hey where you going, you know, I said it ain't no business of yours because, Hey, hey, I'm in love again, Falling down on my knees,
I never thought I'd ever feel this way again.
Look out baby.
Yeah, yeah.
Hey, hey, I'm in love again, Falling down on my knees,
I never thought I'd ever feel this way again.
Hey, hey, I'm in love again, I'm falling down on my knees,
I never thought I'd ever feel this way again.
Hey, hey, I'm in love; I'm in love, Falling down on my knees,
I never ever thought I'd feel, this way, This way, again.
Yeah, yeah, I'm in love, in love, With a beautiful girl.
song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Caught Up In You
I never knew there'd come a day
When I'd be sayin' to you
"Don't let this good love slip away
Now that we know that it's true."
Don't, don't you know the kind of man I am
No, said I'd never fall in love again
But it's real and the feeling comes shining through.
So caught up in you, little girl
And I never did suspect a thing
So caught up in you, little girl
That I never want to get myself free
And baby it's true
You're the one
Who caught me baby you taught me
How good it could be
It took so long to change my mind
I thought that love was a game
I played around enough to find
No two are ever the same
You made me realized the love I missed
So hot! Love I couldn't quite resist
When it's right the light just comes shining through.
So caught up in you, little girl
You're the one that's got me down on my knees
So caught up in you, little girl
That I never want to get myself free
And baby it's true
You're the one
Who caught me, baby you taught me
How good it could be
Fill your days and your nights
No need to ever ask me twice oh no
Whenever you want me
And if ever comes a day
When you should turn and walk away oh no
I can't live without you
So caught up in you
Yeah, yeah, yeah
And if ever comes a day
When you should turn and walk away oh no
I can't live without you
So caught up in you, little girl
You're the one that's got me down on my knees
So caught up in you , little girl
That I never want to get myself free
And baby it's true
You're the one
Who caught me baby you taught me
How good it could be, little girl
You're the one that's got me down on my knees
So caught up in you, little girl
That I never want to get myself free
And baby it's true
You're the one
Who caught me and taught me
You got me so caught up in you
song performed by by 38 Special
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Mrs Truber
Always be yourself, Mrs Truber said,
Don’t be what you’re not. You sat
And studied her as she sat opposite
Stirring her cup of tea, took in her
Greying hair, her lined features, the
Way her bony fingers held the spoon
That stirred. People try to be like others
And find themselves out of their depth
And drown in the waters of lies and deceit,
She added, bringing her light blue eyes
On you. You began to speak, but the words
Were stuck in your throat. She smiled and
Tapped your hand. We are what we are,
She said, but often we are tempted to become
Actors wearing a different mask, trying to
Be a different person. You nodded slowly
And thought how beautiful she must have
Been once. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke,
And as she brushed her hand through her grey
Hair, you thought you caught a glimpse of her
Youthful self peering out of eyes like a child
Staring from windows in a locked up room.
You sipped your tea and watched as she brought
Her hands together as if in prayer. You closed
Your eyes, but when you opened them again,
The room was empty and she wasn’t there.
poem by Terry Collett
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Makemkov's Muse.
Makemkov had a sudden
Thought while sitting on his bed,
Having a smoke, gazing out
Of the window at the new
Apartments across the way,
Where some young dame was slipping
Into something light and cool,
Unknowing that he gazed like this
On other days, the thought he
Had disturbed the sexy sight,
The image becoming blurred
Into another lustful
Smudge, he was going to be
Dead one day, the thought revealed,
Unclean or not so, he did
Not know, but die he would, he
Neither grand nor good, his death
Would come as all deaths came, each
With its owner's borrowed name.
poem by Terry Collett
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Martha' Crucified.
Martha had this thing
about the Crucified.
The image, the cross,
the stretched out arms.
The one in the convent
school along by the chapel
always caught her eye.
Stood there staring.
Get a move on Martha,
the nun said. Don't gape so.
Or the image in the dining
room stuck up on the wall
above the abbess's table.
Painted on she thought.
Not the same. Her mother
had the one her mother
gave her on her deathbed.
Old wood and plaster.
The plaster peeling from
the hands of the Crucified.
Martha gaped at Him,
at His wounds, at the wound
in His side where the spear
went in. Forgive them for
they know not. They did so,
the bastards, she muttered,
putting her fingers on the wound
in the side. She had an ebony
rosary in her skirt pocket. Black
Christ on the small ebony cross.
She fingered in her pocket, said
the prayers, felt the stiff body
on the cross. Sometimes she
took it out and kissed it; the ebony
body, the head, the arms. Once
she had a cross around her neck,
silver, small, given by some old
codger. She felt it warm between
her small breasts. Lost it when she
took it off to wash and it slipped
down the plughole in the convent bog.
She knew her mother had this wooden
crucifix on her chest of drawers.
A dark wood, a fleshy plastered Christ,
nails through and hands and feet.
She kissed the hands when her mother
was out, her lips touching the smooth
plaster, the eyes closed, the feel of
smoothness on flesh. Not the real
Christ of course. Least not yet.
She'd wait her turn. The real thing.
See what death and Heaven bring.
poem by Terry Collett
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In Mrs Clarke's Wake
Mrs Clarke pushed
her battered bassinet
between market stalls
not listening
to the stallholder's
shouts and calls
Helen walked behind her mother
as told holding your hand
So I know where you are
Mrs Clarke had said
you sensed
Helen's small hand
in yours
her seven year old skin
touching your
seven year old flesh
her thin fingers
encircling yours
We'll see if they've got
a school skirt
for you here
her mother said
turning back her head
Helen nodded
and you noticed
Helen's enlarged eyes
behind her thick lens
spectacles
searching her mother's
large behind waddling on
stopping now and then
beside stalls
picking up clothes
searching for a skirt or dress
grey and the right size
Helen whispered to you
putting her head
close to yours
Rice pudding for tea
when we get home
with red jam
and sugar too
if you want
and she smiled
and you said shyly
That's good
because I'm starving
she looked at your hand
in hers and said
Then we can play
mums and dads
and my dolls
can be our family
her mother stopped
and picked up a skirt
and held it up
to the light
then held it against
her daughter's waist
judging for size
and you watched
her mother's hands
red with washing
and cleaning
thinking and gauging
the size and cost
as you studying
Helen's hand in yours
like a soul lost.
poem by Terry Collett
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Through Paris 1970
As you rode through Paris
in the packed coach
the radio played
Beethoven's Piano Concerto #5
and Mamie
sat beside you
her head to one side
sleeping
her mouth open
like some fish
out of water
her hands tucked
between her thighs
her blue skirt
riding high
and the slow movement
of the Beethoven piece
began
the piano playing softy
as the bright lights
of Paris
lit up
the dull space
inside the coach
and you closed your eyes
laying a hand
surreptiously
over hers
hearing the piano
and orchestra
as if in a dream
and Mamie
never minded
your hand
on hers
or so you thought then
and as now
it would seem.
poem by Terry Collett
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Branded By Hot Lips
Christina sat crossed legged
on the grass of the school playing field
her friends got up and left
as you arrived after school lunch
where's your friend Rolland?
she asked
gone off with Woolgar
to play football
you replied
she patted the grass
beside her
why don't you sit down?
she said
so you sat down beside her
looking at her dark brown hair
brushed so so
and her green summer dress
just covering her knees
the black shoes
and white ankle socks
completing the picture
as if your eyes
had mentally painted her
for later reference
she leaned forward
and kissed your forehead
a damp patched
the size of her lips
remained there
she said
something to remind you
of me afterwards
while you're sitting
in class doing boring history
or geography or whatever
thanks
you said
actually it's maths
which is even more boring
so the kiss memento
will come in handy
she laughed and looked away
you spotted Rolland
over the way
standing in a goal
between two coats
Cedric can see us out here
she said
breaking the brief silence
why does it matter
if your brother can see us?
Will he tell your parents?
she shrugged her shoulders
don't suspect so
she said
you gazed at her lips
as she spoke
and her hands on her knees
just laying there
palms down
he does watch us though
she said
maybe he's jealous
maybe he wants to sit here with me
you said
she laughed
don't be silly
she said
and you moved
towards her
and kissed her lips
and she pulled you
nearer to her
with one of her hands
behind your neck
and you smelt
lavender water
and her hair brushed
against your cheek
and when your lips
left hers
they felt branded
as if hot coals
had been there
and she said
that was wonderful
and over her shoulder
across the way
Rolland had let in
a goal as his stretched
out hand
missed the ball.
poem by Terry Collett
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Going Down On Love
Got to get down, down on my knees
Got to get down, down on my knees
Going down on love
Going down on love
Going down, going down, going down
When the real thing goes wrong
And you cant get it on
And your love she has gone
And you got to carry on
And you shoot out the light
Aint coming home for the night
You know you got to, got to, got to pay the price
Somebody please, please help me
You know Im drowning in the sea of hatred
Got to get down, down on my knees
Got to get down, down on my knees
Going down on love
Going down on love
Going down, going down, going down
Something precious and rare
Disappears in thin air
And it seems so unfair
Nothing doin nowhere
Well you burn all your boats
And you sow your wild oats
Well you know, you know, you know the price is right!
Got to get down, down on my knees
Got to get down, down on my knees
Got to get down, down on my knees
Got to get down, down on my knees
song performed by by Lennon John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Will One Day Go.
Sorry about
your granddad's death
Judith said
as you stood
beside her
by the pond
at the back
of the house
in the woods
the autumn sun
lighting up patches
of the water's skin
it was sudden
you said
my uncle told me
she took
your hand
in hers
and squeezed
her soft skin
on yours
her thumb
rubbing
the back
of your hand
best remember him
as he was
she said
living and smiling
not some place
lying dead
you nodded
trying
to conjure up
when you'd
seen him last
sitting in
the back garden
of his house
months earlier
talking
of his flowers
he'd grown
from seed
his white hair
moved slightly
by the breeze
he liked my new suit
you said
thought it looked smart
she kissed your cheek
and said
hold on
to things
like that
your memories
place them
in a drawer
inside your head
a jackdaw flew
across the skin
of the pond
the black and white
of wings and tail
reflected
in the water
below
what comes
from God
she whispered
whether
nature's beauty
or ones
we love
will one day
sadly go.
poem by Terry Collett
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