En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Janice and You and Shared Love.

Janice met you
as you walked
across the bombsite
from the New Kent Road

to Meadow Row
you watched
as she trod
carefully over

bricks and stones
some half buried
under the settled
earth and mixed brick

her hands held out
like some tight-rope walker
and she saw you
and smiled

and said
Gran said I can come out
if I'm with you
so I came looking for you

and here you are
yes
you said
my usual place

amongst many
she stopped
where the ground
was even

and held her hands
in front of her
holding a small bag
you looked at her

in her red beret
and grey coat
her black shoes
and white socks

and she said
where are we going?
you looked at her bag
and said

what's in the bag?
a small handkerchief
and purse
with six pence

and a penny
and a bar of chocolate
we can share
she said

where are we going?
she repeated
where do you
want to go?

Waterloo
to watch the trains?
she said
I know you like them

ok
you said
and you both
headed back

to the bus stop
on the New Kent Road
and stood there
waiting for the bus

she in her red beret
and coat
and you
in your jeans

and pullover
with the wiggly pattern
and she opened
her bag

and took out
the bar of chocolate
and broke it
in two

one for her
and one for you
wrapped in
its silver paper

and purple cover
just like two grown ups
each giving
to their lover.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Sarsparilla and Janice and You.

You walked with Janice
to Baldwin's the Herbalist

at the corner of Elephant
and Walworth Road

she wore her blue patterned dress
and red beret

and white socks
and red sandals

and in her small purse
she had money

her gran gave her
to buy sarsaparilla

in a half pint glass
and you

in your cowboy shirt
and jeans and plimsolls

with your holster
and six shooter

in the belt
around your waist

and clutching money
your mother'd given you

for doing a few chores
Gran would never let me

go on my own
Janice said

but when I said
you were going

Gran said all right
but no sweets

they rot your teeth
I like the liquorice sticks

you can buy there
you said

they make your teeth white
or so my mum said

Janice looked at your gun
in the holster

and said
you can protect me

from outlaws with your gun
sure

you replied
she smelt of lavender

and toothpaste from tins
and she moved nearer to you

and her arm touched yours
as you walked along

here we are
she said

and opened the door of Baldwin's
and you both went in

and went to the counter
and asked the man

for two half pints
of sarsaparilla

and when he poured them
and you each paid him

you stood by the window
with your glasses

and sipped
and looked

at the passing traffic
and people

you feeling like Wyatt Earp
in the saloon

and Janice looking out
as if she feared

outlaws would be coming
pretty soon.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Janice and You and the Spider

You stood
in the playground
of St Jude's school
which was really

the basement
of a bombed out house
which had been gutted
and the basement tarmaced

and the walls
were still there
where kids climbed up
and around

the thin ledge
when Janice
put her hands
over your eyes

and said
guess who?
and you put
your hands

into the pockets
of your short trousers
and said
Miss Murphy

or Miss Ashdown?
no
Janice said
it's me

and she removed
her hands
from over your eyes
and you turned around

and looked at her
and she had
her red beret on
and a pink scarf

around her neck
to keep out
the cold
you must

have known
it was me
she said
who else

would put their hands
over your eyes?
her eyes were bright
and you thought

you could see yourself
in them
as if they were small mirrors
Jupp might do

or maybe Carmody
you said smiling
she didn't smile back
but pulled her lips

tight in a line
then she took your hand
and pulled you
along the path

that led
to the school toilets
and pushed you
inside a cubicle

and shut the door
behind you both
and said
don't you love me?

there was a large spider
hanging from
the cistern chain
close to

her red beret
and it hung there
suspended
swaying back

and forth
and you said
of course I do
right down

to your white socks
but there's a spider
above your head
and she looked up

and screamed
and a voice
outside the door
asked

are you all right
in there?
Janice's eyes widened
and she watched

as the spider
moved up the chain
and she said
yes it's all right

Miss Murphy
just a small spider
and you stood there
next to Janice

wondering what
Miss Murphy
would say
if she saw you

and Janice
in the lavatory
together
and the voice said

ok as long
as you
are all right
and the footsteps

moved away
and Janice took
your hand in hers
and you sensed

how cold it was
slightly blue
and it was just
9 year old Janice

and the big spider
and 9 year old you.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

You and Jackson Pollock.

How's the girl
with the red beret?

your sister asked
she'd seen you

and Janice
and her gran

on the way home
from school

she probably walking
with her friend

following behind
and Janice said

I made a picture today
out of cut up

pieces of paper
and the teacher said

it was the best
she'd seen

her gran said
Now now Janice

mustn't boast
I expect

there were other pictures
equally as good

But teacher said it
not me

Janice replied
Did you make a picture?

her gran asked you
her eyes falling on you

and taking in
your look

like a rabbit caught
in headlamps of a car

in the night
Yes

you said
I made a picture

of a morning sunset
out of red and yellow

and green for the grass
and blue for the sky

Janice smiled
and touched your hand

surreptitiously
her small hand

feeling along
your skin

Did you make it
out of cut up

pieces of paper too?
her gran asked

you sensed Janice's fingers
squeezing into your hand

No
you replied

I did it with water colour paints
and what did teacher say?

her gran asked
she said it reminded her

of a Jackson Pollock
whoever he is

you said
looking at Janice's red beret

and her hair
coming from beneath

so wonderfully
unlike your

short back and sides
and unlike her hair

with its red coloured
hair slides.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Bombed Out Butcher's Shop.

On the third day
of the holidays
you met Janice

half way up Bath Terrace
at the entrance to the flats
where she lived with her gran

she was dressed in her red beret
yellow flowered cotton dress
white socks and brown sandals

she smiled when she saw you
and said
feared you might not show

I told you I'd be here
you said
she looked at you

and said
I know
but some people say things

but don't show
I'm not some people
if I say I'll be here

I'll be here
you said
glad you're here

she said
Gran doesn't like me
going out alone

she says there are strange men
out there who take kids off
and do things to them

and murder them
yes
you said

I read about that boy
they found murdered
near here

she looked concerned
don't worry
you're with me

my mum told me
where to kick them
if they try anything on

oh
Janice said as you both
walked up to the top

of the terrace
to Harper Road
where're we going?

she asked
a bombed out
butcher's shop

you replied
isn't that dangerous?
she asked

not if we're careful
where we tread
you said

isn't that breaking
and entering?
she asked

no we don't break in
you said
we walk in

the back gate
it's not locked
oh

she said
looking concerned
we won't get into trouble

will we? Gran said
she'd tan my backside
if I got into trouble

would I get you into trouble?
you asked
guess not

she said softly
you crossed
Harper Road

and went round the back
of the bombed out
butcher's shop

and opened the gate
and entered
into an empty yard

you shut the gate
after you
and she stood gaping

at the back of the shop
you showed her
the large walk in freezer

where meat had once
been kept
now empty

smelling of piss
and damp
what if you got locked in?

she said
the lock's busted
you said

oh I see
she replied
her eyes large

and her mouth open
in wonder
you took her into

the shop now empty
apart from a large table
with a marble top

where meat
had once been cut
and chopped up

it stinks
she said
yes tramps get in

sometime and shelter
for the night
are they here now?

she asked nervously
no they go off
in the day

you said
giving her
a smile

you took her up
the creaking stairs
to the upper landing

where the sky
shone through the roof
where a bomb

had fallen in
gosh
she said

how weird
one of the rooms
had an old bed frame

pushed in a corner
and the roof
was still there

except where a few tiles
had gone
someone slept there once

she said
and now
they're probably dead

you took her hand
and walked her
to the window

and looked out
on Harper Road
people would have looked out

of this window too
you said
sad isn't it

she said
and you sensed
her lay

on your shoulder
her fair haired
red bereted head.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Cold Drive And A Warm Night-Chapter Two

He watched her take the drink
still warm and she cupped it
with two hands, warming them up.
The hands were thin.
She was not a farm girl
and she averted her eyes when
she looked at him.
The face was small with delicate
features
yet they were strong in their own way.
He wondered how what kind of lover she would be..

He wondered too how she could have
made a wrong turn and gotten here.
There were signs that clearly stated
'no public road'. 'dead end road.'
She noticed his stare and pulled at
her comforter, pulled it up more
around her shoulders.
She looked at him as she did so
noticing if he was noticing, if he was looking.
He noticed her noticing.

But he did not stop looking and she
to his surprize, didn't avert her eyes.
She looked right back, examing his face.
He looked down a bit to see what the comforter
was concealing, what shape her breasts were.
She noticed this too, and blushed.
He grunted, his grunt, satisfied that he had
a good look at her and got up.
He still didn't know what she was doing there
and he would feel uneasy until he find out.

He stood, walked by her and took his coat
from the coat stand, her eyes following him.
He turned pulling the heavy coat on saying.
'I'll be back.'
Have to check and push your car
back onto the road. Otherwise, the wind
will kick up, and by morning it will be buried
and tough to get out.
Another storm coming in.
It'll be cold tonite.'

Her eyes diverted again and she said, 'You will be back?
How long will it take? '
'You'll be ok. You can call me on the spare cell phone
over there. Look up my name, Lonnie.'

She nodded.
He closed the door still disturbed about her sudden arrival.
It was not an accident. He would check her glove compartment
in her rental car, maybe some info there, he thought to himself.

Meantime, Jenny sat up drinking her tea thinking:
'Damn he will find the rental agreement. What else was in the car? '
He'll start to wonder why she was really there. She could see that
he didn't believe her 'lost' story. 'Damn her cell phone was in the car too.
Everything was in the car. Damn her purse too! He had everything.
He wasn't what she expected, younger, sort of bold in the way he
looked at you. He really looked at you. Made her a bit uneasy
but it was different to have someone look at you. I mean he looked
at everything, your eyes, your hair, your body. The man looked.
But flirting aside she knew he'd be back and she would have to explain
why she was really there.
She was safe but it might not be comfortable when he found out.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

No Bombs Here

Gran said it isn't safe
to walk about the bombsites

Janice said
as you walked with her

off of Meadow Row
towards the bombed out sites

of WW11
there might be

unexploded bombs
she added

holding on to your shirt sleeve
there are no

unexploded bombs here
you said

to reassure
you paused midway

and stared back
to where the coal wharf stood

and coalmen went about their work
loading trucks and horse drawn carts

how do you know?
she asked

her hand gripping
your shirt sleeve tight

don't you trust me?
you said

turning your head
seeing her eyes wide

beneath her red beret
yes but maybe there could be

hidden beneath ground
you looked around

with hand above your brow
none I can see

you said
she released your sleeve

and touched your hand
her smooth skin

like soft silk
moved over yours

you mustn't tell Gran
she said

she's forbidden me
to go on sites

you sensed her pulse
tap along your palm

of course I won't
you said

and walked across
the bricks and rubble

and weeds between
even here

amidst the bombed out ruins
a touch of green.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Swing Time

You were with Janice
in Jail Park

two kids
looking for kicks

and Janice said
Can you push me

on the swings?
and you said

Sure if you like
and got behind her

as she sat on the swing
her hands holding

the small steel rings
that held the wooden seat

of the swing in place
her legs kicking outward

like some young bird
about to take flight

for the first time
and you heaved

the seat of the swing forwards
you then let it go

and off she went
upwards and downwards

her cry of exhilaration
filled your ears

and you pushed her
more higher and higher

to her cries of
Higher and higher

then you stood back
and walked around

the front of her
as she rose up

her legs pushing
into the sky

her black shoes
touching the cloud's skin

and you called out to her
Don't let go

or you'll fall
and she gripped

the small steel rings tighter
with her whitening hands

and her eyes
were wide

and her mouth opened
in a small O

and as her body
went by you

you pushed her once more
your hands pushing against

her summer dress
covered butt

and you sensed
the warmness of her

and the air
and her flying

like some young bird
way up there.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Janice and You At London Bridge

It was the fourth day
since the break up
from school
for the summer vacation

and you were riding
with Janice
on the bus
to London Bridge

and she was wearing
the lemon coloured dress
you liked
that came to the knees

which were pressed
together
and the brown sandals
with the patterned holes

and the red beret
on her fair hair
was swaying
with the motion

of the bus
opposite you
was a man
wearing a trilby

and a moustache
who kept looking at you
with his dark eyes
his head going

from side to side
as the bus moved
and he sat next
to Janice

his hands
on his knees
and he turned
and gazed

at Janice's knees
then up at you again
his features flushing
and then he looked away

at the passing scene
behind you
pretending
you weren't there

then at London Bridge
he got off
and so did you
and Janice

and you waited
until he had gone
walking up
and over the bridge

and you said
he was a queer fish
who?
said Janice

that bloke
who sat next to you
why?
she asked

he kept staring at me
and ogling
at your knees
did he?

Janice said
you wait
until I tell Gran
about that

she'll say
you watch out
for his type Janice
he's no better

than he ought to be
you nodded
and smiled
at her imitation

of her gran
and she laughed
and you both
walked down

the steps and by
Southwark Cathedral
to the embankment
by the River Thames

and stood by the wall
looking at the passing
boats and ships and tugs
and the occasional

ducks floating
on the brown water
and you felt Janice's
9 year old hand

touch yours
as she pretended
(as she often did)
that you were

a married couple
out for a romantic walk
gazing
at the passing scenery

with the added
small talk.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Janice and You at Waterloo Station

At Waterloo Station
the steam engines
puffed powerful steam
reaching up

to the rooftop
and you stood there
hands in your pockets
your nose sniffing in

the white and grey smell
you can taste it
on your tongue
and Janice beside you

her eyes looked up
at the rooftop
as the steam
reached high

her hands clutching
the small bag
I want to be a train driver
when I'm older

you said
I want to smell
that smell
and breathe in

that steam and shovel
coal in the engine
maybe you will
Janice said

maybe you'll be
on a train like that
big and black
and powerful

she put her hand
under your arm
and squeezed
Gran said we can be

what we want
if we want it
bad enough
Janice added

you felt her hand
under your arm
sensed her squeeze it
we went to the seaside

on a big black train
like this last year
you said
and I put my head

out the train window
and my mum said
keep your head in
or a train

will knock it off
that'd be horrible
Janice said
she clutched

closer to you
as the steam train
puffed out more steam
and the sound was loud

and powerful
and she said
maybe
when you're an engine driver

you can take me
to the seaside
with Gran
yes

you said
and if you come
to the engine
before you take off

I can show you
the engine
and how powerful it is
and she smiled

and put her head
on your shoulder
yes
you said softly

when I grow up
and when I am older.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

After School Walk

After lessons at junior school
coming down the bricks stairs

Helen said
can I walk home with you?

Sure
you replied

and she set off with you
along St George's Road

the traffic and smoke fumes
setting the scene

she in her school frock
and cardigan

and white ankle socks
beside you in your grey jacket

and grey short trousers
and she said

I don't usually walk home alone
but mum said I can walk home

with you save her coming along
to the school with the other kids

and pram with baby
you took in

her two plaits of hair
and thin framed glasses

with large lens
which made her eyes

larger than they were
her small hands

by her side
a small school bag

over her shoulder
and did you know

Janice likes you?
Her grandmother

told my mother
the other day

after school
but I like you better

do you like me?
she asked

you noticed
she had small white teeth

with a thin brace
along the top

sure I do
you replied

I like Janice too
but you I like more

and she smiled
and put her right hand

in yours and squeezed it
and you smiled

but hoped none
of the other boys around

noticed the hand holding
after all a tough boy

has a reputation to maintain
and as you squeezed

her hand back
clouds darkened

and it started
to piss with rain.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Growing Up Before Time

You stood outside
the ABC cinema
with Helen looking
at the framed photographs

of the stills
from the film
then showing
she clutching her doll

Battered Betty
you standing there
pointing out
the main characters

my old man said
he'd take me
to see this
on Saturday

you said
Helen rocked Betty
in her arms
I hope our child

doesn't call you
old man
she said
maybe he won't

you replied
it might be a she
Helen said
sure it might

you said
you gave Betty a look
as she hung there
in Helen's arms

you looked back
at the photo stills
putting your hands
in the pockets

of your jeans
maybe
you can take me
to the cinema

when we are older
Helen said
and we can sit
at the back

like those grown ups do
and kiss
you sensed her hand
touch your arm

and rub it up
and down
Betty moving
as Helen's arm moved

sure
you said
long as I can still see
the movie

Helen handed you Betty
and you took
your hands out
of your pockets

and held her gingerly
like she might go
crap on you
and Helen put

a hand in her pocket
and pulled out
a few coins
I might have enough

here for some fries
she said
ok
you replied

and you walked
beside Helen
along the New Kent Road
to the Neptune's fish shop

holding Battered Betty
carefully against
your cowboy shirt
the one your mother

bought you
for your birthday
the year before
Helen talked

of children's names
and you thought
of the Wild West
and cowboy games.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Not An Answer Why.

Fay managed to get out
while her father worked
and she came

and knocked at your door
and said
You want to go out?

Sure
you replied
and you both went down

the stairs of the apartment block
across the Square
and down the slope

up Meadow Road
crossing over
the bombsite

behind the coal wharf
and on to the main road
where you walked along

side by side
Let's see what's on
at the movies

you said
and you stopped outside
the movie house

and peered at the programmes
Fay said
My daddy doesn't think

movies are right for children
he says they're sinful
and full of lust

and sex
and greed
and she stopped

and stared along the road
at the people passing
and the cars and lorries

going by
on the main road
and the evening air

choked up with fumes
and the street lights
giving a false perspective

It isn't all like that
you said
Some movies are about love

and laughter
and people enjoy going
it takes them out

of their dreary lives
Fay said
I've never been

inside a movie house
never seen a movie
Well why don't you come with me

to the matinee on Saturday
I can squeeze some money
from my dad for the two of us

Fay looked at you
and seemed interested
but then said

No I can't
if my father caught me
there'd be hell to pay

and apart from the lecture
on the immorality
of the arts and such

he'd belt me some
and not let me out again
for some time

and you said
Ok but some day
you're going to find out

things aren't always
as the parents say
then you're going to

have to find your own road
and walk your own way
and she looked sad

and walked away
from the movie house
along to the subway

and down the steps
into the bright lights
and noise of traffic

over head
and you touched her hand
and she gripped yours

and you walked down
through the subway tunnel
she in her flowered dress

and brown shoes
slightly scuffed
and you

in your tee shirt and jeans
and you pretended
not to notice

the bruise on her thigh
which caught your eye
as she skipped along

her dress rising high
as she went holding tight
your hand

her fingers wrapped
about yours
and up and out

on the other side
of the subway
with its bright lights

and evening sky
and too many questions
and not an answer why.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Scavenging For Coal

At the back
of the coal wharf
you and Fay
picked up coal pieces

that fell through
the iron railings
and put them
in an old bag from home

Fay looked
at her blackened fingers
and said
if my daddy sees

these fingers
and finds out
what I've been doing
he'll spank me

for sure
you gazed at her
beside you
and said

you can wash your hands
at my place
she looked around
at the bombsite behind you

the evening sun
slowly going down
behind the railway bridge
and nearby buildings

what if someone sees you
she asked
picking up these pieces?
no one worries about this

all the kids do it
you replied
my daddy says
it is evil to steal

she said
you put a black piece
of coal in the bag
and lifted it

to feel the weight
that's enough
you said
too much

and I won't be able
to carry it
Fay stood up
and looked around

at the darkening sky
you held the bag
in one hand
and scanned

the area around you
let's go
you said
and so you both

walked away
from the coal wharf
into Meadow Row
by the public house

where piano music played
and down towards
the flats
where you lived

and after climbing
the concrete stairs
to your landing
you opened the door

and put the bag
by the indoor
coal bunker
and showed Fay

where to wash her hands
turning on
the cold water tap
you both washed

your hands
with the red
Life Buoy soap
her hands near yours

her wet flesh
touching yours
the black water
running away

and another adventure
and another day.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Chocolate Is A Food Group

I love chocolate.
So should you.
Milk chocolate,
Dark chocolate.
It's good for you, too.

Chocolate cake,
Chocolate candy,
Chocolate pie.
Take away my chocolate
And I might die.

White chocolate,
Hot chocolate,
Even chocolate soup...
Any chocolate lover knows
Chocolate is a food group.

poem by Rich Reitz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Down This Road

(Michael Dulaney/Michael Lunn)
Down this road there's an old brick house
My mama cried the day that I moved out
And my first summer job was pumpin' gas and fixin' flats
But at Henry Walker's Texaco
Down this road, down this road
Down this road there's a maple tree
In a cotton field where Jenny first kissed me
And I can still remember the night she said good-bye
I stood there like a fool and watched her go
Down this road, down this road
And it goes on forever
And it goes by too fast
It'll take you anywhere you want to go
And every memory will bring you back
Down this road there's a small white church
Daddy lived his life by the preacher's word
He raised me right, I could always feel his love
Even when the angels called him home
Down this road
And it goes on forever
And it goes by too fast
It'll take you anywhere you want to go
And every memory will bring you back
Down this road
Down this road
Down this road

song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Good Deed Done.

The old woman
was lying

on the path
from her

ground floor flat
along Harper Road

when you and Helen
walked by

on your way
from the shop

with your penny drinks
you both ran to her

and she said she'd fallen
so Helen

ran across
to the surgery

on the other side
of the road

while you knelt
by the woman

placing your
short sleeved pullover

under her head
you're a good boy

she said
but you'll have blood on it now

don't matter
you said

you stroked her head
and pushed

her grey hair
out of her white blue eyes

when Helen returned
with a doctor

he examined
the old woman

and said
he had called

an ambulance
Helen stood

next to you
her eyes tearful

her hand
touching yours

the woman said
thank you both

I don't know
what I'd have done

if you hadn't come along
it's the least we could do

Helen said
you waited

until the ambulance came
and took her away

and disappeared
off along Harper Road

look at your pullover
Helen said

it's got blood on it
don't matter

gives it colour
you replied

anyway Mum'll wash it out
she gazed at you

through her thick lens
her eyes awash

with tears
her small hand

still in yours
the path

from the old lady's flat
had a small stain

of dark red
where blood had seeped

where she'd laid her head
a bit like an abstract

pavement artist's work
you said

the white stone canvas
with that touch of red.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Helen and You and Six Pence Worth of Chips.

When Helen heard
that Pete Badam
had poked your guts
she said

why'd he do that?
I scored
a home goal
you replied

so? what's that
got to do
with anything?
she said

he caught me
off guard
you said
I'll get him back

no
she said
don't go down
to his level

she gave her doll
Battered Betty
a hug
I don‘t want

our children
to have a father
who's fighting
all the time

she added
gazing at you
through her
thick lens glasses

no worry
you said
Dave Walker
got Badam

in the guts afterwards
Helen looked at you
horrified
what is it with boys?

fight fight fight
she put Battered Betty
over her shoulder
and patted her back

and walked along
the pavement outside
the ABC cinema
you watched her go

back and forth
the doll moving
over her shoulder
Helen's blue

cardigan and dress
was lit up
by the lights
from the cinema

and reflected
in her glasses
I didn't ask Walker
to hit him

you said
he just poked him
in the guts
and walked off

Helen paused her pacing
and looked at you
the doll brought down
into her arms

I don't want
a violent husband
she said softly
I want you

as you are
that's fine
you said
but that's

another time
and tomorrow
as we're only just nine
and she walked

with you
to the chip shop
in the New Kent Road
to buy six penny's

worth of chips
and a kiss
on your cheek
from her lips.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Destruction And Salvation

The buildings were collapsing all around
People screaming then falling down
Than not making a sound.
(I smiled)
The ground started opening up
And people falling in.
(I smiled)
The sea waters overflowed on the land
Bringing destruction, mud, and sand.
(I smiled)
The skies turned completely black
And the sounds of the lightning’s cracked.
(I smiled)

A man stopped me and asked:
Why do you smile when the world
around you is falling down?

I responded: I smile because the lord walks
by my side, and fills my heart and soul.
I grabbed his hands- “ and he smiled”
Let me walk with you, for I also felt him too.

We walked hand in hand through this barren land.
Other people stopped and asked the same question.
Then took our hands and joined us too.
The salvation of the world was coming true.
Faith, hope, love, was following thru.

As the people joined and held hands
The destruction began to cease.
And in peoples hearts
They found relief and peace.

When they looked there were thousands
Holding each others hands
For this was - part of gods plan.

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!