En.Citatepedia^®.ro

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
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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
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Young Traitor

Gran said
you can come with us
to the fair

Janice said
Provided your mum agrees
of course but Gran's

already asked your mum
so it's all right
you stood outside

the school gates
waiting for your mother
to come and pick you up

and so you said
Oh right that'll be good
but you didn't want Helen

to know you were going
to the fair with Janice
and even though

you hadn't planned it
or asked for it
you still felt guilty

about going
with Janice to the fair
and when Helen

came out of school
and stood waiting
next to you

for her mother
you hoped Janice
wouldn't say

anything about it
but Janice just stood there
smiling looking at Helen

as if to say he's going with me
to the fair and you're not
and Helen gazed at Janice

at the same time
putting her hand
near yours

and you could feel
her hand brush
against yours

and then she turned
and looked at you
through her

thick lens glasses
her eyes searching you
like a navigator

looking for a fresh route
to a new world
and Janice moved closer

on your other side
her hand seeking out
a finger to hold

and she said
Look here comes Gran
and she released

your finger and ran
and you stood with Helen
waiting

knowing her hand
was warm and feeling yours
and hoping she couldn't

read minds
or thoughts
or know about the fair

and she said suddenly
giving your hand a squeeze
Here's your mum and mine

let's go meet them
and off you ran
following behind

feeling a sense of betrayal
being a traitor to Helen
in your 7 year old mind.

poem by Terry Collett
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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
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Talk Over Tea.

Janice's gran
had left the room

to fetch another
pot of tea

and Janice said
Are you coming on

the day trip to the seaside?
I'm not sure

you replied
Oh please do

Janice said
Then we can be together

and I won't have to spend time
with those giggly girls

from the gospel group
you looked at her fair hair

and the way her eyes
were on you

and how precise
her lips were

when she spoke
I'm not sure my parents

can afford it
you said

Oh it's free for kids
whose parents are poor

she said
And after all

it's part of the point
of the whole thing

to show Christian values
and so on

and she smiled
and put her hand

on yours
under the table

as her gran came in
with the teapot

What are you two
talking about?

Gran asked
putting the teapot

down on the table
Janice's hand

squeezed yours
under the table

Oh just about the day trip
to the seaside

Janice said
Are you going too?

her gran asked you
you hesitated

and then said
Yes I think so

and Janice looked at you
her blue eyes bright

and she said
Isn't that good Gran?

Yes indeed
her gran said

and poured tea
into your cup

and added milk
and sugar

and Janice's hand
left yours

and the absence
of the warmth

of her hand
felt like

a dying world
in a vast galaxy

or drowning
in a deep blue sea.

poem by Terry Collett
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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In The Swimming Pool In The Park

Your sister called her
the girl in the red beret

and there she was
in the outdoor

swimming pool
in the park

her gran sitting
in the stands knitting

and Janice saw you
and said

Fancy seeing you here
can you swim?

You stood
in the shallow end

of the pool
in your blue trunks

looking at her wet fair hair
clinging to her body

and her eyes bright
in the sun's afternoon light

No not so far
you replied

I can
she said shaking water

from her hair and head
I can swim the length

and back almost
you looked over

at Jimmy in the pool
talking to friends

she touched your hand
and said

I can show you
how to swim

and she smiled
and you felt her hand

on yours and hoped
Jimmy wasn't looking

seeing her touch you
Maybe another time

you said
pulling your hand away

and plunging it
into the water

I've got to go
you said

my friends
are waiting for me

and she looked at you
her eyes now sad

and she said softly
No stay with me

I like it
when you are near me

and she stood there
in her pink swimsuit

her hair sticking
to her face

her eyes watery and blue
and gazing hopefully

(the noise and laughter
from the pool

momentarily shut off)
at seven year old you.

poem by Terry Collett
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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
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Those Senior Moments

Where are my keys?

'In your hand.'

Oh,
Who knew?
Has anyone seen my eyeglasses?

'They are on your head,
Covering your eyes.'

I knew.
I was just testing you.

Excuse me...
You look very familiar.
Have we met?

'Not only did we meet.
We were married for eight years.'

That's where I've seen you before.
So...
How have you been,
Uh...uh...

'Janice, maybe?
Perhaps? '

'Seriously.
It's Janice, Michael.'

Michael?
My name is Lawrence.

'Oh...?
Seriously?
I guess we are all experiencing,
Those senior moments.
Well...
It was nice seeing you, again.
Raymond.'

Lawrence.

'Yeah?
Whatever.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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
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The Spider And The Ant

I curiously observed an ant as it meandered,
ever closer to the spider's web.
In the corner of the window sat the spider,
a strand of web beneath its leg.

A waiting game was being played by the spider,
as the ant went this way and then the other.
How could it miss the web's support strands.
The spider bided its time and didn't bother.

The ant finally came across a strand and hesitated,
it tested its safety and then stepped back.
Surprisingly it climbed up to the labyrinth's centre,
the spider's sensors couldn't miss that.

It ran up the web and began to encase its prisoner,
but the ant fought hard against the thread.
Seconds later the spider returned to its corner
satisfied that its prey was almost dead.

poem by Orlando Belo
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Spider

Spider crawling, on the wall
I see him and he, sees it all...
And he sees it all
I fell down in that lazy place,
Where the english language cant - penetrate and i
Saw your mouth moving - just forget it and lie here with me
Maybe we should just, climb under the sheets
Where the words they dont get in the way
We were wondering, if you recall
Is this the end of it - end of everything
We were wondering, wonder
Spider crawling - in my left ear
Has a message I - want you to hear
Hope youre happy - found what youre looking for
Do you miss me, miss me at all?
Spider tells me, saw you yesterday
With somebody new - what can I say?
What can i...
Spider crawling, I crawl with him -
We go everywhere, we see everything
We are falling, we are falling, falling to nowhere
Hope youre happy - found what youre looking for
Do you miss me, miss me at all?
Spider crawling, spider crawling, spider crawling...

song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anne and the Boys's Bath Night

It was the boys' bath night
and you had bathed
and were drying yourself

with the white towel
they had given you
when the bathroom door flew open

and Anne stood there one-legged
in her pink flowered nightdress
perching on her crutches like a hawk

her eyes bright and dark
a smile lingering on her lips
well bugger me

she said
what a sight
for a girl's lovesick eyes

and she entered the bathroom
and pushed the door shut
behind her with her bottom

almost uncrutching herself
in the process
you pulled the towel

tight around you
and stared at her
it's the boys' bath night

you muttered
girls aren't allowed in
while boys bath

she moved over
to the mirror
and gazed at herself

you're right
she said
I'm not a boy

I'm a tight titted girl
and she laughed
and crutched herself

over towards you
making you flatten yourself
against the wall

gripping the towel with one hand
and holding her back
with the other

and she leaned down
and kiss the back of your hand
then looked you deep in the eyes

what have you got hidden
behind that towelling skirt then?
she said

and you gripped the towel tighter
with both hands
and she menacingly moved

one hand cautiously towards the towel
her armpits gripping
the crutches tightly

as she moved
you shouldn't be in here
you said

I'm not in there yet
she laughed and grabbed
the towel away with a force

that took her and the towel
toppling to the bathroom floor
where she lay

like an overturned beetle
you stood naked
your hands covering

what your father
called your toolbox
gazing down at her struggling

to get up
well don't just stand there
like a prize parrot

help pick me up
she said
and so with one hand covering

you knelt down to help lift her up
but then she pulled you
down beside her

and laughed
and her laughter echoed
around the walls

but then she paused
and put a hand
over her mouth

hearing Sister Bridget's
nearby footsteps
and noisy calls.

poem by Terry Collett
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Waiting By The School Gates

Look who's over
by the school gates
Reynard said
and you looked over

and there was Christina
with her school bag
over her shoulder
and her hands tucked

in the pockets
of her green coat
see you tomorrow
Reynard said

and walked on
giving Christina a stare
as he did most girls
finding them an enigma

yet to be solved
when you got
to where Christina was
she took her hands

out of her pockets
and put a hand
on your arm
I wish I was going

on the school bus
with you
then I could sit next to you
and I could tell you

about myself
and not have to cram
everything into a rush
of words as I do

at school
you looked over
to where the school bus
was waiting

you still had
five minutes
or so before
it took off

and you knew
Fred the driver
always did
a head count

before hand
don't you wish
I was there
on the bus too?

she asked
squeezing your arm
with her fingers
you turned

and looked at her
sure I do
you said
but you live here

and I live miles away
I know
she said
and I miss you

once your bus goes off
and I know
I won't see you
until the following day

and the weekend is worse
because then
I don't see you
for two whole days

other kids
passing through
the school gates
stared at you both

and Hill said
come on
or you'll miss
the bus

and he laughed
and moved on
and Christina stared
after him and said

what's his problem?
and you said
oh he hasn't been born yet
he gets this way

and she laughed
and said
maybe I'll come
on the country bus

to your village
and we can meet?
sure that'd be good
you said

and her eyes lit up
and she smiled
and leaned
towards you

and gave your cheek
a peck
and you said
look I got to go

and you took her hand
and gave it
a quick kiss
then turned

and walked quickly
towards the bus
knowing her eyes
were following

your every step
and that maybe
she dreamed
of you at night

and imagined you
beside her
and her dolls
and Teddy Bear

and you in turn
maybe imagined
at night
you too were there.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Night Worker

A spider spun his web all night
and waited patiently.
A fly had circled all the morn
and buzzed there cautiously.

The spider watched and stayed so still.
No movement did he make.
And by and by the fly descended
and landed wide-awake.

He spotted the spider and tried his best
to escape the sticky trap.
The spider watched and slowly moved
and the fly with his handicap

became the bait inside the web
that the spider made at night.
The spider had his breakfast early
in the morning light.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spiderman

Spider man, spider man
Does whatever a spider can
Spins a web any size
Catches thieves just like flies
Look out!
There comes the spider man
Is he strong?
Listen, bud
Hes got radioactive blood
Can he swing from a thread?
Take a look overhead
Hey, there!
There goes the spider man
In the chill of the night
At the scene of a crime
Like a streak of light
He arrives just in time
Spider man, spider man
Friendly neighborhood spider man
Wealth and fame
Hes ignorant
Action is his reward
Look out!
Here comes the spider man
To him, lifes a big bang up
Whenever theres a hang up
Youll find the spider man.

song performed by by Ramones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Always The Bride, But Not The Groom

Always the bride, but not the groom
that is what I became
when I went to a Wedding in October.
We went to the wedding,
then along to the reception.
I stood talking to a couple of friends
and the bride rushed in and said to me.
“Dave look after these for me“
She then commenced to hand me
her bridal bouquet and handbag.
One of our friends Donall
gave me a hug and kiss
and asked me to marry him.
His partner Janice grabbed her camera
and took a photo of me,
bridal bouquet in one hand, handbag in the other
and a lopsided smile from the mouth ulcer I had.
Right there and then I became a bride, but not the groom.

20 November 2008

Author’s note:
I dedicate this poem to:
Janice Windle (who took the photo)
Donall Dempsey (who planted the kiss)
Tara (the real bride for dropping me in it.)

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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