Is She In Love?
Is she in love with you
or what? Reynard said
indicating across
at the girl
at the other side
of the classroom
every time I look up
she's peering over
here like some hawk
after prey
he added
and you guessed
she was
but didn't say
to Reynard
who thought
all thoughts on love
were dumb
or should be left
between pages
of Shakespeare
or Keats
or maybe just
a cover word for
a fumble behind
bike sheds or woods
maybe she just likes
the way I comb my hair
you replied
looking down
at the science book
open on the desk
and by the way
he said
how much grease
you got on your hair
you look like
you fell in the darn jar?
Tooley the science teacher
looked your way
and Reynard clamped up
and began writing
in his book
and in between
scribbling words
in the exercise book
you glanced over at her
and took in her eyes
and that smile of hers
and smiled kind of
weakly back
and she mouthed
something to you
her lips making odd shapes
like some fish
out of water
and you tried to lip read
but it didn't make sense
so you just nodded
and hoped you'd not agreed
to anything
that her scary mother
wouldn't agree to
and then looked away
back to the science book
and life dull
and uninteresting books
full of boring questions
and Tooley at front
of the class
writing on the board
her fat ass moving
as she wrote
like some aging stripper
on her last show
and outside
the window
grey clouds
carrying
heavy snow.
poem by Terry Collett
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Related quotes
Sports Day 1962
It was sports day
at high school
and the field and tracks
were crowded with
teachers and kids
and the sun was out
causing sweat
and heat rash
and Reynard said to you
that girl who fancies your ass
is waving to you
over by the small wood
of trees and bushes
so you looked over
and saw Christina
waving a hand at you
leaping up and down
her short gym skirt
rising and falling
as she leaped
showing off
now and then
her dark green panties
mind she don't eat you
Reynard said
and walked off
to watch the races
as you wandered over
to where she stood
at the edge
of the small wood
don't you look
the sexy beast
in your black shorts
she said
eyeing you over
her right hand smoothing
down your white tee shirt
are you running?
she asked
yes a short sprint
you replied
anything more than that
and I'm buggered
she looked at the field
holding her hands
in front of her
and you gazed
at her white legs
and white ankle socks
and black plimsolls
I'm in the relay race
she said
I‘ll have to watch
to see when my turn comes
then she turned to you
and said
have you been inside the wood?
you looked behind you
no not so far have you?
yes we went there
in science looking for bugs
and such
she said
maybe you could show me
you said
what?
bugs and flowers
and butterflies
you replied
she smiled at you
maybe but teachers might be watching
or other kids or prefects
and what if my brother Cedric
sees us enter
and tells my parents?
just a science tour
to see all nature's gifts
you said
tell them that
if any see us go
and you watched her
fumble with her fingers
looking around the field
and whispered softly
no.
poem by Terry Collett
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Doppelganger
Miss Damson
was a doppelganger
for Bette Davis
right down
to the look
and eyes
and swagger
into the classroom
to teach
and it was said
that sometimes
she‘d go into
the cupboard
and have a drag
on a smoke
and if any kid
spoke out of turn
she’d give a stare
to make his or her soul
seemingly burn
but you saw
the way she could bring
silence to a room
when she entered
or bring a shudder
of fear
into the hearts
of the classroom braggers
and when she drew chalk
across the blackboard
it’d set teeth on edge
or threw chalk
or the blackboard wiper
at any kid stupid
or brave enough
to open their mouths
and the way she wrote
upon the board
her back to the class
that firm ass
and with that neat script
her fingers tight
around the chalk
as if around
the throat of any kid
who dared to talk
and you
she’d say
you at the back
you with the dumb look
don’t stare
out of the window
open the darn book
or hey you
girl with the bangs
don’t sit there
with your mouth open
or you’ll catch flies
and there’d be
an underground snigger
from others
or just dumb looks
anywhere
but at Miss Damson
even stuck between
pages of boring books.
poem by Terry Collett
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Books
Books take me to a place like no other
When I'm reading no one else madders
All my problems go away and it's just my books and me.
Books I like that word but when I read
My mom and dad and all my brothers and sisters go away
And I'm left there with no one but a book.
And then I pick it up and the word isn't so empty any more
It's full again. Like when you're a kid and your mom or dad
Come home after a long trip without you and you missed them
And then you're crying, laughing and happy all at the same time.
That how I get with a book I just found.
Happy because it's by my favorite Author but yet sad because
The book ended with questions still in my head.
And laughing because it was funny at one point in the book.
I love that felling when I pick up a book.
How do you fell when you pick up a book?
Happy, sad, a funny felling? You tell me please come on now don't be shy.
poem by Alley Rodriguez
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The Book Of Love
In the book of love come of age
When you lose your love, you turn the page
Hey-ho the book of love,
Life is written in your own blood
Say forever and it all sounds fine
When youre holding hands,
With the hands of time
Hey-ho the book of love
Laugh at the dead but tomorrow you cry
Chorus:
My broken hearts from a to z
Dos and donts on bended knees
Change of lovers endlessly
And this book of love is writing me
Chapter 2 you walk away
But in chapter 3 a man made me stay
Hey-ho the book of love
Why dontcha look up
All the games you played
Chorus
Theyll be sweet love in a darkness
But the book of love
Is a story of your loneliness
Finger tipped it on a holy night
And a page is ripped for a name of life
Check the back cause the datell be due
When theyll throw the book of love at you
They are broken hearts from a to z
Dos and donts on bended knees
Disappointed right to be
Celebrate a celebrity
K-i-s-s-i-n-g
Ah stupid cupid set me free
Took a look and whatll I see
This book of love is writing me
This book of love is writing me
This book of love is writing me
This book of love is writing me
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Chornicles of a Dark Heart Part 16 The open book's monologue
Red what is it to you black the color of death? maybe maybe not? anyone here play video games? FOR CHAOS? ring any bells help spread the taint more quickly? what might an open book write
what would a open book draw
what would an open book think
open books are predictable
so predict what the picture means
why is black black? why is red O infused? what is the meaning only you know maybe only me...
(added years later)
Maybe I'm the book, and maybe you're the reader
but who is you? is it not everyone
since I'm open, for all to point at laugh at, out of malice or for fun
because they know my thoughts, they know i love her? !
what did i do?
i never said i love you! ! !
how can they know?
how did i reap what i did now sow? !
The worst part
about being an open book,
is an open book can't close itself, can't have a heart
anyone can know all from just one look
there seems to be something wrong with being too open and honest
but it's too late a book can't close itself
can't move by its own accord to a shelf
an open book can never rest
so now I'm the book, so since im there just read
just read.... and watch my heart, my purpose, my soul, my life, me
watch.... watch them bleed
poem by David Knox
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The Black Widow Bride
He looked into her eyes, and asked her why she was so engrossed in the book, instead of him.
The young bride, upon her wedding bed replied, 'to read a book, is to step into a world beyond the ordinary.
You open a world where imagination, fantasy, and even pain become one with you.
You can feel as though you are a part of the world in which you have magically fallen into.
It has accepted, and possessed you in every way.
Your mind can take you anyplace, anywhere, at anytime.
You can become one with the Medieval period, romantic fantasy, comical adventure, and total horrific terror.
So grab a book, and live the life you've only now have been dreaming about. She looked at her now sleeping husband, turned the cover of her book over, and thought about how much he looked like the dashing man on the cover of her romantic adventure book.
She kissed him upon his forehead, and plunged the knife deep into his flesh.
poem by Velmar Pewee Hale Johnson
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Supervision
The teacher prayed to God above for wisdom day-by-day,
For only He had perfect love and insights to relay.
The teacher saw the vision come and looked at it amazed,
For it was meant for all not some, yet not a word was phrased.
From clouds on high, the book birds flew about the teacher's head
And some of these the teacher knew, for they were fondly read.
Then other book birds circled round with titles yet unknown,
With treasure chests as yet unfound, with cherished truths unshown.
Imagine books left on the shelves, unread, unshared for years...
Deprived of these to help ourselves, no thoughts between our ears.
What use would Mankind ever gain if great books were not read?
The teacher thanked God for the brain that chose not to be dead.
And so it was, the teacher smiled! The course ahead made sense.
From now on, books for every child, for families and friends.
In every language known to Man, God's Word can preach Good News,
If we but do the best we can to help each student choose.
The teacher's heart was filled with hope with all God had revealed,
For books would help the students cope, as if each were a shield.
Both fact and fiction serve us well, if willing we would be
To learn the lessons that they tell, for truth shall set us free!
poem by Denis Martindale
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Sarah Palin - now don't laugh - is writing a book. Not just reading a book, writing a book. Actually, in the word of the publisher, she's 'collaborating' on a book. What an embarrassment! It's one of these 'I told you,' books that jocks do.
quote by Chris Matthews
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love Science
Ive been around the world, Im going around again
I got a new word up, gonna lay it on my friends
Im still too young, Ive got these emotions in my blood
But when I grow up, gonna be a scientist of love
Working on, love science
Got to know, love science
Show the world, love science
How to be a scientist of love
Tell my friends, love science
Take a chance, love science
Give it up, love science
Im a scientist of love
Feel the power, love science
Study hard, love science
Know the truth, love science
Be a scientist of love
Choose a plan, love science
Pick em up, put em down, love science
Bring it on home, love science
Got to be a scientist of love
Hey you!
Sometimes you get screwed up, and youre looking for a cure
But you dont want to see just another amateur
I know the kind of expert you must be thinking of
Go out and find yourself a scientist of love
Some say that loves a game, a random circumstance
Im not the type to leave that kind of thing to chance
You might sit back and wait, but Im taking off the gloves
Im gonna crack this case like a scientist of love
1, 2, 3!
If loves what we want, if loves what we need
Why cant we make love from suspicion and greed?
If loves what we want, if loves what we need
Why cant we make love?
Ive got no time to waste just waiting for the bus
This is the place, the space to get down and serious
School is in, the lab is open for research
I do declare that love is a walking, talking church
Ive got to quell the beast, be a credit to my sex
Ive got to give at least as much as I expect
Cant get no rest til I discover what I need
Gotta start somewhere, that why I believe, believe, believe
Believe the word, love science
Party down, love science
Thinking hard, love science
How to be a scientist of love
Place to place, love science
Hour to hour, love science
Cant hold back, love science
Got to be a scientist of love
Sexy girl, love science
Manish boy, love science
Take the course, love science
And be a scientist of love
In your face, love science
Outer space, love science
Heres a taste, love science
Got to be a scientist of love
If loves what we want, if loves what we need
Why cant we make love in a love factory?
If loves what we want, if loves what we need
Why cant we make love?
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr Paddy's Capers.
Just when she thought
She'd found a place alone
To read her book, Mr Paddy
poked his nose between
Her and the open book, so
That pages are blanked out
By his huge head. Mr Paddy
Go off and annoy another,
She said, but he stood there
Determined to be where he
Was, between her and the
Brown covered book, held
Out in her small hands. Oh
Mr Paddy I cannot see the
Pages. Please go off and run
In the garden or in the kitchen
And steal a bone, she said. But
He wouldn't leave her alone,
He pushed his head against her
Young girl body, his damp nose
Dampening her wrist and her
White dress with blue sash, and
Dribble from his lips was wetting
The pages. Mr Paddy please let
Me be, I'm trying to read can't
You see? Mr Paddy's brown eyes
Scanned the pages, nothing there
But scribbled lines upon white paper,
And still he stood wet mouthed with
Big brown eyes and his silly old caper.
poem by Terry Collett
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Open Book's Monologue Part 3: My Lie
Maybe a lie was told
Believed by all of you now old
If you read the open book
You'd see
The words 'I care nothing about how someone might look'
When searching for love for that girl that I want with me
Remember that and pay attention when the open book says looks are not
An issue
But realizing the lie, this book will need a strong tissue
For, the book will cry
And need support, no spine
Because if I care nothing about looks
Why do I want (maybe crave) to hold her or share a kiss?
How can this
Be true? Why does that matter? It should not!
I should be content with talking....feelings....not if she is hot
I tell myself if she is hot, such things matter to me not
But if that's true why do I want to hug or touch?
Why do I want the physical contact and such
How can I reconcile my claim, when once before
I loved a girl only for how she looked and that made her perfect
Without defect
How can I trust myself after that am I not something to abhor?
What can you do when a book you read does lie
That is the case with this open book, crafty and sly
I can't trust myself, but who else knows how I feel, who knows
Where my heart goes
And to where does it belong?
O how I long for the completion of love and affection
But how can I have that, when I can't handle it, I'm not mature
Plagued by imperfection
The flaw of my nature
What do I love? And what do I love about you?
But also if what I say even to myself can be a lie then just who
Just..... just who am I? ! ? ! ? ! ? ! ?
poem by David Knox
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The Face Smiles Back Easily - Hundred Mile High City B-side
Its not the way that you look
Or the way that you comb your hair
I know well always be there
By the look, by the book
And your troops and your devil may care
I know well always be there
I know well always be there
And by the way your eyes are shining through
Theres nothing to do but wake up in light
And like the way your eyes they shine with the sun
And lighten everyone who wakes up in time to see
The face smiled back easily
I know well always be there
By the look, by the book
And your troops as your devil may care
I know well always be there
I know well always be there
Its not the way that you look
Or the way that you comb your hair
I know well always be there (x3)
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Read The Book
Dolce said to read the book.
Don’t skip any pages though,
Lizzy; I want you to read it
From cover to cover. Ok lover,
You said and examined the
Book’s covers; the hard leather,
The well sewn pages. You knew
He wrote it without his name on
The spine with the title. It was
As he spoke, the words flowing
Across the page, the meaning
Carried on and over and into
Your head. You stopped on page
Nine; he’d written about the night
He’d screwed you five times, although
No name was mentioned, you knew
It was you. Even the bed and room
Were as it had been, written right
Down to the creaking springs and
The man next door banging on the
Wall with his darn shoe. You read on
Carrying that image with you, the way
He’d caught it all with the right words,
Hammered that night right home like
Some crucified butterfly onto the page
And into your head. You paused at page
Twelve. Some paragraph about some
Lark in the bushes in the park after dark.
That didn’t ring true, at least not with you.
Who was the woman? Who was the screw?
You closed up the book; refused to look
Or read anymore; you wondered who it
Was he’d had that night in the bushes
Beneath the moonlight. Maybe it was just
Poetic licence made up to make it sell well
And the cash machines ring loud and true.
But the bitch in the bushes wasn’t you.
poem by Terry Collett
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I read a book
I read a book
Not to enhance my looks
I read a book
Maybe to avoid being a crook
I read a book
Not just to learn how to cook
I read a book
To ascertain how to defend my rights
Not just to acquire knowledge
Reading a book I pledge,
Is one of the roads to the light
I read a book
To understand how a kings territory
Is defended with pieces such as the rook
I read a book
So there will be no questions asked
When I count correctly what you took
I read a book
So that I play not ignorant
Now on life I’ve a different outlook
I read a book
So if I come up with all the right answers
I will know for sure it is not merely a fluke
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Open Book's Monologue (revisited the years later portion of part 16)
Maybe I'm the book, and maybe you're the reader
but who is you? is it not everyone
since I'm open, for all to point at laugh at, out of malice or for fun
because they know my thoughts, they know i love her? !
what did i do?
i never said i love you! ! !
how can they know?
how did i reap what i did now sow? !
The worst part
about being an open book,
is an open book can't close itself, can't have a heart
anyone can know all from just one look
there seems to be something wrong with being too open and honest
but it's too late a book can't close itself
can't move by its own accord to a shelf
an open book can never rest
so now I'm the book, so since im there just read
just read.... and watch my heart, my purpose, my soul, my life, me
watch.... watch them bleed
poem by David Knox
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What The Priest Said
What a Priest told me.
I was young, fourteen, late at night, I was hasting home, jumped over fences,
crossed a garden when I saw a naked woman by the fireside, wood fire casted
a warm glow on her body, washing herself with a cloth she dipped into a sink
bucket placed on a chair in front of her. She slowly cleaned her arms, neck,
breasts, legs feet and finally she washed the part where legs meet the body.
All in slow caring motion. She put a kimono on sat down and opened a book,
after a few minutes she put the book down looked out of the window, I was
petrified and hoped I looked like a bush, she smiled, to me or herself, I shall
never know. At this point I hastily left, woozy, confused and in love. Later
I saw her at the grocer’ she had bought flowers, looked up and smiled at me.
Of course I didn’t know, at the time, that she was one of Ruben’s women put
there to tempt me into a life of infidelity forever seeking perfect, chaste love
and not involved in the physical side that smells of under- arms transpiration.
If I see one of Ruben’s women, and she smiles at me I now her love is a dream
and with aching heart and regret I walk away.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Book I Read
Im writing bout the
Book I read
I have to sing about the
Book I read
Im embarassed to admit it hit the soft spot in my heart
When I found out you wrote the
Book I read so
Take my shoulders as they touch your arms ive
Got little cold chills but I feel alright the
Book I read was in your eyes oh oh
Oh...Im living in the future.
I feel wonderful.
Im tipping over backwards
Im so ambitious
Im looking back im
Running a race and youre the book I read so
Feel my fingers as they
Touch your arms
Im spinning around but I feel alright
The book I read was in your eyes
Na na na na...na na na na na na na
Na na na na...na na na na na na na
Na na na na na...na na na na na na na
Na na na na...na na na na na na na
Na na na na...na na na na na na na
Na na na na...na na na na na na na
Na na na na...oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oooooh...Im living in the future
I feel wonderful
Im tipping over backwards
Im so ambitious
Im looking back im
Running a race and youre the books I read so
Feel my fingers as they touch you arms im
Spinning around and I feel alright
The book I read was in your eyes
Na na na na na...na na na na na na na
Na na na na...na na na na na na na na
Na na na na...na na na na na na na na
Na na na na...na na na na na na na na
Na na na na...na na na na na na na na
Na na na na...na na na na na na na na
Na na na na...oh oh oh oh oh oh oooh..
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rachel and You and The Day Trip
It was a day trip out
to some seaside place
arranged by the Gospel church
for kids whose parents
were poor
and having got on the coach
you sat in a seat
by the window
and waved at your mother
standing on the pavement
along Rockingham Street
and she waved back
then this girl sat beside you
who you didn't know
and she smiled and said
all right if I sit here?
sure
you said
and looked back out
at your mother
and waved again
and she waved back
and you thought
who is this girl?
and why is she
sitting next to me?
and she looked at out
the window
and waved to her mother
who started talking
to your mother
and they both waved back
to you and the girl
and you said
do you want to sit
by the window?
and she said
ok yes that'd be nice
and so she got out
and you got out
then she got in
and sat
by the window
and you sat
down beside her
and then the coach
started up
and drove off
and you both waved
at your mothers
until they were out of sight
and the girl turned
and said
I'm Rachel
this is my first time
to the seaside
and you said
you can walk around
with me if you want to
and she said
that'd be good
I don't know
anyone else here
and so she did
all day
walked around with you
along the beach
and on the sands
making sandcastles
and in the cafe
where they took you all
for a meal
of fish and chips
and she talked
and talked
and smiled
and laughed
and once she took
hold of your hand
and it seemed
for a while
that she was happy
at least it seemed so
by the width of her smile.
poem by Terry Collett
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T’was the Week after Christmas Break a parody of T'was the night Before Christmas
T’was the week after Christmas break,
And all through the school
The students were restless
For lessons poured out like and overflowing pool
Though most were quite dreary,
Some still touched their work
While visions of summer
Came around with a quirk
Out in the streets
A few were ditching
And hoping that ideas
The teachers would stop pitching
In my own class
I had been thinking
And trying not to smell
The garbage that was stinking
My classmates were sleeping
While the teacher was teaching
And students in class
Were passing notes that were beseeching
I flipped through a book
Wondering what it would take
To get my teacher
To just take a break
I stared at my paper
But in thought I was distracted
As my teacher wrote notes
My head seemed compacted
Some candy might assist
I thought with a smile
But as I began to eat
It became a trial
I’d completely considered
To take a nap
But the teachers voice
Sounded like a bad rap
When out of nowhere
The class got quiet
And when I looked
Captain Know it all had started a riot
His appearance quite shabby
And I hated his beard
As he glanced at me
He said something weird
“What kind of child
Would not make a complaint
When class is just
A place of restraint? ”
“On History! On Science!
On wonderful math
On good behavior
And a great career path”
His message said
He rolled out of the room
But we heard him complain
When he was given a broom
Your teacher has bored you
So try to stay awake
Happy week after break to all
And to all, a good wake
Lost In A Book
SHHH!
don't bother me
I'm lost in a book
mixed up with
the complicated plots
and outrageous characters
when i'm lost in a book
I don't have to think
about my life
I'll get stuck in
a fantasy world
and never
have to come back
home again
one book
after another
I read, read, read
different places
different people
a new world
I start fresh
each time
I open up a new book
when i'm lost in a book
I am safe
no one can hurt me
I'm happy
when I'm lost
in a book
poem by Annie Janine
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