Julie and You in Trafalgar Square
Julie sat on one
of the fountain walls
in Trafalgar Square
and lit a cigarette
she looked about her
as if she were onto
something harder
as if she had some one
looking at her
from some secret place
you gazed at her
unused to seeing her
not in her hospital
dressing gown
and slippered feet
her hair had been brushed neat
and makeup applied
and she said
I was picked up here
some months back
by some guy
who wanted sex
he thought
I was a pro
and the things
he asked for
god that was the worse
and with that
she paused
and stared at the Square
at the people
and the pigeons
and she inhaled deep
and then exhaled
blowing the smoke
out of the corner
of her mouth
like you'd seen done
in the movies
what did you say
to the guy
who picked you up
and what did he want
you to do?
she looked at you
her eyes scanning
your features
and then leaning closer
she said
I told him I wasn't
a whore and to go off
some place else
you watched her fingers
holding the cigarette
the way she held it
between her fingers
as if it was some
precious item she'd found
what did he want you to do?
you asked
he wanted sex
in all my orifices
she whispered
before inhaling again
the cigarette was clamped
between her lips
and she rubbed
her fingers
on her jeans
she screwed up her eyes
against the smoke
my grandfather said
if it wasn't for whores
more women
would be raped
and attacked
you said
that guy was a creep
he smelt of strong aftershave
and body odour
she said
what a combination
you said
she stumped
the cigarette butt
onto the wall
and flicked it
across the Square
let's go and view the art
in the Gallery behind us
she said
and you followed her
to the Portrait Gallery
her buttocks swaying
like some ship at sea
the jeans tight
and clinging
and across the Square
church bells were pulled
and were ringing.
poem by Terry Collett
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Related quotes
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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Judy and You and Chagall
What did you think
of the Chagall postcard print
I bought you?
Judy asked as you both sat
outside the Fox Inn
I pinned it on my wall
you replied
and stared at it every time
I entered the room
thinking of you
she sipped her drink
her eyes searching you
her hair tied behind
in a ponytail
so I gathered
by your letters
she said
putting her glass
on the small wooden table
I missed you
you said
I went to London
while you were away
and saw you
in every girl I saw
even at the ballet
at the opera house
she looked at her glass
I was only away for a week
she said
it seemed a year
you said
you inhaled the cigarette
you were holding
taking in her hair
and eyes and how
her lips moved
as she spoke
Florence was fantastic
she said
I picked out
that Chagall print for you
in one of the art galleries
who did you go with?
you asked
friends
she replied
male or female?
both
she said
you inhaled the cigarette again
and thought of the first time
you kissed her
how the moonlight
shone on her face
as you moved her around
you mustn't be so jealous
she said
I have to see others
who was the guy?
Henrik
she said
you imagined her
and this Henrik
making out
in some Florence hotel
his hands touching her
I thought of you
every moment
you said
that's sad
she said
why?
you said
because no one
should think of another
that often
she sipped her drink
and looked around
at the evening sky
how was Florence?
beautiful
she said
like you
you said
I am like Shakespeare's' lily
she said
as it withers
she added
I see
you said
and you studied
her hands as they lifted
the glass to her lips
the fingers
the skin
the way they held
the glass
did you read my letters
when you got home?
you asked
yes
she said
every single one
my mother said
I must have besotted
some poor soul
and you thought
of the Chagall print
and how you had sniffed it
for traces of her scent
and remembered
your mother's words
nothing is given forever
things in this world
are only lent.
poem by Terry Collett
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Shared Cigarette
O’Brien held the cigarette tight
Between forefinger and thumb
He placed it between lips and
Inhaled. Danny Davis wanted
A drag too and Eddie Sutcliffe
Stood like a young pup waiting
For his chew on the bone. They
Watched the end of the cigarette
Flare up in the early winter cold
Eddie rubbed his hands together
In anticipation. You kept an eye
Out for school prefects or any
Odd teacher who might happen
To venture forth into the school
Playground. I liberated this from
My dad’s packet, O’Brien said
Taking the cigarette from his lips
And passing it over to Davis who
Took a quick drag then gave it to
Sutcliffe who held it like a girl
Having her first kiss. No one was
Coming, so you had a quick drag
After Eddie had left drips of dribble
And inhaled the smoke. O’Brien
Made a comment about some
Girl he’d had or so he said the
Night before. Davis guffawed
Loudly, but Sutcliffe stood there
Opened mouthed while you
Half smiled and wondered if it
Was true about the girl’s arse
Or just some smutty joke
poem by Terry Collett
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What Matilda Said
Matilda closed the door. Matilda
Saw Millie by the window. Her maid’s
Uniform looked tight at the rear. She
Wanted to place her arms around her
Waist, kiss her neck. Millie turned and
Said, He’s out there with Mrs Dimmable.
Matilda walked to the window and stared.
She sensed Millie beside her; heard her
Breathing, the brush of her sleeve against
Her arm. Looks happy enough, Matilda said
Of Mrs. Dimmable. You didn’t sleep too well
Last night, Millie said, turning, going to the
Bed. She pulled back the covers, smoothed
Out the sheet. Matilda went around the other
Side of the bed and looked at Millie. You were
Tossing and turning, Millie said looking up.
Matilda helped make the bed and said, Sorry
About that. Millie stared at Matilda and said
You murmured words. Did I? Matilda replied.
Yes, Millie said, looking at her hands. What did
I say? Matilda asked. You muttered my name.
Millie stood back from the bed, gazed at Matilda.
You said things. What things? Said you loved me.
Millie blushed at the words. Matilda patted the
Pillow but said nothing. She brushed her hands
Over the covers, pushed away creases. She paused.
Looked at the window. Smelt the flowers in a vase.
Do you? Millie asked. Love me? Matilda stared
Out at Mrs Dimmable and the new gardener.
Her lips wanted to move but nothing came.
Her eyes watered. The world was awash. Millie
Walked to the window, put her arms around Matilda’s
Waist, her fingers formed a knot on Matilda’s stomach.
Matilda placed her hands over Millie’s.
They do look in love and contented don’t they?
Millie said over Matilda’s shoulder. Matilda’s sensed
The warm breath. Yes, she said, they do. Do you?
Millie’s breath uttered softly into her ear, yes.
poem by Terry Collett
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Square Peg, Round Hole
He's a square peg in a round hole
Misfit in a slick world
Don't play the game
Don't do what he's told
He's a square peg in a round hole
Square peg don't care
The bright lights he's not there
Catch the shadows see him slip away
Square peg that's what they say
Square peg, Suare peg
Square peg, you have got to be strong
Square peg, he's got his own song
Square peg, I'll see you around
Square peg, face down
Square peg, round hole
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wish my pain was a cigarette
Wish my pain was a cigarette,
It would have been touch by you
Wish my pain was a cigarette,
It would have had the comfort of your hand
Wish my pain was a cigarette,
I would have been on your lips
Wish my pain was a cigarette,
It would have been consumed with time
Wish my pain was a cigarette,
It would have ended in an ashtray
Wish my pain was a cigarette,
It would have been thrown away
poem by Secret Shal
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For the Meeting of Hearts and Lips
Julie took
one of the cigarettes
out of the packet
you had bought
and said
you're too kind
and lit it
with a small
plastic lighter
she took from her bag
you both sat
in a side room
set aside
for patients and guests
just off the drug
dependency ward
she was in
there was a scene
of a few trees
and bushes
from the window
marred by the sight
of the other part
of the hospital
over the way
glad you could come
she said
my parents
won't visit me here
don't they love you?
you asked
it's a matter of what
the neighbours might say
if they found out
I was here
she answered
inhaling deeply
and looking at you
with her dark eyes
her dark hair
was pulled back
in an untidy bun
and the hospital
dressing gown
she wore
was stained
and open
at the neck
and down
revealing a small cleavage
of young pinkish flesh
why did you come?
she asked
I wanted to see you
you replied
none of the others
from the Church come
she said
it's all talk
and promises
and God talk
but none
have come to see me
so far
she inhaled again
and stared out
the window
you studied how
she had crossed
her legs
showing
a glimpse of thigh
where her white
dressing gown
and nightdress
rose high
a nurse entered the room
and said
would you like tea
or coffee?
yes
Julie said
two coffees please
and the nurse
went out and off
her feet pitter
pattering down
the corridor
through the half
open door
I'm lucky here
she said
some druggies
get shoved in mental wards
or poked in
psychiatric units
with other
damaged goods
it seems ok
you replied
lifting your eyes
from her thighs
to her face
pure in its makeup
less state
and dark eyes
19 years young
she said
and already buggered up
as my father has said
I'm sure they love you
in their way
you said
taking in her neck
and the run
of her chin
and her mouth
with the small
moving lips
the nurse came in
with a tray
with two mugs
of white coffee
and a bowl
of brown sugar
and set it down
on the small grey table
and walked out
my parents love me
as property
not as a person
she said
uncrossing
her legs
and lifting a mug
and taking small sips
and oh you thought
(lifting a mug
and drinking)
for the meeting
of our hearts
and lips.
poem by Terry Collett
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I'm Sick Of It
I'm sick, sick, sick of cigarette addiction
I'm sick of movies and their dishonest depiction
That smoking is glamorous, sophisticated and cool
When what it really is is something that rules
The cigarette addict from morning to night
And all the hours in between, they can never take flight
From the constant nagging fear that they must inhale the fumes
Of a deadly poison that will lead them to their doom
A cigarette addict can barely do a thing
Without a cigarette, it's got them on a string
They have to smoke it now, it just cannot wait
And then, another and another, they've really taken the bait
A cigarette addict is as helpless as a lamb
On a frosty hillside with no mother to keep it warm
Their mind is so confused that they actually believe
A cigarette is their saviour, they are so deceived
(Sydney, Australia - 2003)
poem by Alessandra Liverani
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Bible Burning IV
'Once they get your deposit, there's no end of their 'little charges'. Pretty soon you're twenty-thousand in hock. And still no divorce.
He stirred the embers with a stick and began to feed the flames with the Gideons as if they were lobsters at a clam-bake. Then he lit a cigarette. His face was deeply scarred. He was missing two fingers of his right hand, which he used, anyway.
'No wonder', I thought. 'But the poor bibles. All that gold leaf'.
'Would you like to burn one', he said suddenly.
'Absolutely not'!
'Ah c'mon'.
'Well, maybe just one', I returned. Anything to be agreeable.
I picked up a Gideons' and laid it carefully on, thinking of my 'friends' and prepared to jump back. I must admit, nothing happened, though I won't say it felt good.
I sighed and looked around. Times Square had never looked more beautiful. There was nothing I could do to convince him of the depth of his depravity. So I took out my cell-phone, which has a hidden camera, and took a picture. Then I radioed my driver. Headquarters would get a full report.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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How Can You Do It Alone
Saw a man about fifty or so
Saw a man about fifty or so
He looked lonely but his eyes were bright
He looked lonely but his eyes were bright
He was walking up the holland park road
He was walking up the holland park road
And I stopped him to ask for a light
And I stopped him to ask for a light
He practacally froze when I spoke
He practacally froze when I spoke
But eased when he saw my cigarette
But eased when he saw my cigarette
Then I saw as he lit up my smoke
Then I saw as he lit up my smoke
Beneath his coat he was naked and wet
Beneath his coat he was naked and wet
With eyes full of shame
With eyes full of shame
For he knew that I knew
For he knew that I knew
He slumped to the wall with a moan
He slumped to the wall with a moan
I said i know theres no name
I said I know theres no name
For what you go through
For what you go through
But how can you do it alone.
But how can you do it alone.
I crossed the street to the local newstore
I crossed the street to the local newstore
Flicked through some cheap magazines
Flicked through some cheap magazines
Beside me some schoolkid I saw
Beside me some schoolkid I saw
Push some girlie mags down into his jeans
Push some girlie mags down into his jeans
The shop girl was watching amazed
The shop girl was watching amazed
Asked me to call for the police.
Asked me to call for the police.
She screamed at his blushing young face
She screamed at his blushing young face
And he escaped into the streets.
And he escaped into the streets.
With eyes full of shame etc.
With eyes full of shame etc.
Do it alone, how can you do it alone,
Do it alone, how can you do it alone,
I need your help, so I can do it by myself.
I need your help, so I can do it by myself.
Do it alone, dont have to breathe down a phone
Do it alone, dont have to breathe down a phone
I aint got a clue, bout the things that you do
I aint got a clue, bout the things that you do
But how...can you do it alone.
But how...can you do it alone.
How can you do it.
How can you do it.
Back at the flat my girl sat in the shower
Back at the flat my girl sat in the shower
And wasnt too keen on me sharing
And wasnt too keen on me sharing
She came out well after an hour
She came out well after an hour
And by that time I was past caring
And by that time I was past caring
Some women it seems have the knack
Some women it seems have the knack
Of attaining that stars in their dreams
Of attaining that stars in their dreams
They simply relax and lay back
They simply relax and lay back
While people like us scratch our jeans.
While people like us scratch our jeans.
With eyes full of shame
With eyes full of shame
And I know it must show
And I know it must show
I slump - and I fall and I groan
I slump - and I fall and I groan
Will somebody explain
Will somebody explain
What I need to know
What I need to know
How can you do it alone.
How can you do it alone.
How can you do it.
How can you do it.
How can you do it without any help
How can you do it without any help
How can you do it all by yourself.
How can you do it all by yourself.
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If We Cant Have You
Hang a picture up on your wall
Tighten all the nails so it dont fall
In this picture, could have been a picture of my face
Something painful, went and took its place
If he cant have you, guess that no one else will
Watch him think a while, smoke a cigarette and smile as I frown
If he cant have you, guess that no one else will
Watch him think a while, smoke a cigarette and smile as I frown
Drink your coffee in the morning,
And at night, go and drink your beer
All along you dont feel so welcome here
And I walk by, and you steer clear
You always said, itd come passionate here
Dont like what you see, you dont like what you hear
If he cant have you, guess that no one else will
Watch him think a while, smoke a cigarette and smile as I frown
If he cant have you, guess that no one else will
Watch him think a while, smoke a cigarette and smile as I frown
song performed by by Whiskeytown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Ode to Greybeard
After leaving the convenience store, we smoked cigarettes insatiately, and were approached by a man with a long grey face, pink from the chilled wind.
Homeless, the man made due with a pile of jackets.
Spare a cigarette? He asked, like clockwork. And received what he bade for.
Without breaking his sight of his caretaker's eyes, he bit the filter out of the end and inhaled so deeply, he must have drank the smoke.
Thanks, pal - crept out from under his mustache and snuck by his cigarette.
His eyes turned slowly to meet mine and were as grey as his beard.
- Remember me when I die
He spoke also - with his eyes.
And mine spoke back - he knew I would
A legacy is only memory.
poem by C.S. Smith
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Round Room
My room is round when I lay down, when I wake up it's square
When I go outside it's on a spiral set of stairs
The people that surround me are waiting out there
In a round room they can't find me anywhere
Right angle rooms drive me crazier each day
Put me in a box I know I'm never going to play
Put me in a square room and I won't know what to say
I want a round room at the end of the day
I had an apartment, four corners on the walls
Couldn't eat, couldn't sleep there at all
I want a curve to the place where I stay
I want a round room at the end of the day
If I pass out take me to the round church
Where echoes resound
And my spirit is found
And when I float high
Take my arm and I'll fly you by
The outskirts of town, to a garden that's round
I went to the lighthouse and I liked the view
I looked out the window and I could see you
Put me in a square house and I won't have a clue
I want a round room just to be with you
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Bricks Over A Hole
You were sitting on the grass
outside your tent
at the base camp
along the road from Tangiers
smoking a cigarette
when Mamie came along
and stood with her arms folded
and her red hair damp
and her face flushed
like a spanked behind
Have you seen the latrines?
She asked
No not yet
you replied
she took a deep intake
of breath and then said
I expected at least
a white bowl
but there are just two bricks
over a hole in the ground
and no paper
to wipe yourself afterwards
you exhaled smoke
and said
You're meant to
take your own with you
Your own latrine?
She said angrily
No your own bog roll
you said
she sighed
and looked down
towards the beach
reaching to
the Mediterranean Sea
I haven't unpacked
my bags yet
she said
and you gazed at her
standing there
in her pink shorts
and white open necked blouse
and tried not
to imagine her
crouched on two bricks
over a hole
in the ground
her legs bent
her panties by her ankles
and her backside
mooning over the hole
Well
she said moodily
At least now you know
what to expect
and went off
towards the beach
her hips swaying
side to side
her taut buttocks
captured in her pink shorts
and the midday sun
touching your head
in a kind of blessing
with its heat
and you inhaled
smoke again
remembering the rain
coming through
Franco's Spain.
poem by Terry Collett
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Dodo and The City
Dodo draws on the cigarette.
The smoke hits the throat.
The city sucks her in with its
huge sick well of emptiness.
Bagteller wanted her to go
to his place last night and make
passionate love. What a laugh
that'd been. Him and his fetishes.
The schoolgirl uniform was not
her thing. Too many memories.
She told him to stuff that in one
of his tight dark orifices and walked
out into the city's cold night. Went
home to her own place and took
a hot shower. She is still sore from
the scrub. She wants to scrub her
past away with the brush and soap.
Nothing washes away the memories
that have sunk deep. She wakes to
a new day. The city is buzzing with
the walking dead and half living.
The cigarette smoke fills her lungs
and then out into the air. Mother said
men were not to be trusted. Father
said don't listen to her she's biased
and bitchy and smells of sour cream.
Oh that I could open up my mind and
wash it out and not have to see that
shrink once a month just after my bleeds
have gone she says. Dr Glexity with his
black suit and blue tie one green eye and
one grey. All that darn money and nothing
to say. She inhales the smoke and the city
and the living and the dead and sucks them
into her lungs broken heart and stuffed head.
poem by Terry Collett
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Suddenly Star Wars came out while we were on hiatus, and we looked like the old Buck Rogers series, where they had cigarette smoke blowing out the back of the rocket ship.
quote by Gregory Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Leg Anne and the Kid
Anne poked Monica
the girl with burn scars
with one of her crutches
and said
Scam scar face
me and the skinny kid
want to be alone
and Monica moved off
and said
I'm going to tell
Sister Bridget about you
Anne indicated for you
to sit in one of the chairs
on the lawn
and said to Monica
Go tell her then
and kiss her arse
while you're there
and Monica went off
and Anne eased herself
down into the other chair
and laid her crutches
against the round table
Well Kid how's it going?
All right
you replied
Just all right?
aren't you blown away
and isn't your heart faster
on my approach?
she laughed
and stared at you
Well?
she said
after a few moments
of silence
Did you manage
to bum me a smoke?
you fumbled
in your shirt pocket
and pulled out
a cigarette slightly bent
Well done you
Skinny Boy
and she took the cigarette
and put it in the pocket
of her cardigan and said
I'll have that later
when I'm in the john
having a pee
What if someone sees you?
you asked
What in the john?
I hope there'll be
no one in the john
with me
well unless you want to come
you're quite welcome
No
you said looking at
her straight black hair
and her dark eyes
and the one leg
sticking out
from her red skirt
she saw you staring
at her leg and said
I think you've fallen in love
with my lone leg
and she lifted her skirt
and revealed the leg stump
coming a little way
from her panty line
Have a good look Kid
and she laughed
and pulled your left hand
onto the stump
and held it there
and you sensed
the warmth and softness
and when she released
your hand you seemed
to take the impression
of the leg stump
on your palm and fingers
and odd
that years after that
that impression
like some ghost
still lingers.
poem by Terry Collett
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Knew The Smoke (To Be A Prayer)
he said:
'i went four years
without a lover,
trying to do the right thing...
then one day i stood up,
packed my few belongings,
and walked off...
in search of...'
i watched him as he rolled
a cigarette, his gnarled hands
sure and steady...
stared at the light in his eyes,
and the doors...
only he knew what
was behind them.
bought him a cup of coffee,
and shook his hand,
no need for words...
wondered if i'd met Jesus,
or the devil,
or if i was looking
into a mirror!
each path, each call,
is different... each heart,
pretty much the same.
i watched him light his cigarette,
and knew the smoke
to be a prayer!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Visiting Julie
Chocolates and cigarettes?
Julie says
as you sit in a chair
opposite her
in the rest room
of the hospital
in the psychiatric ward
I thought you'd prefer them
to flowers
you reply
yes
she says
flowers tend to lie
heavy in my gut
and she smiles
and you look at her there
with her dark hair
long but dishevelled
I haven't brushed my hair
or bathed yet
she says
seeing you look at her
but you can scrub my back
if you want
she says
watching you blush
best not
you say looking away
seeing out the window
a small garden
with summer flowers
but sensing
a slight movement
in your groin
at the mere thought
of her suggestion
how did you find me?
she asks
of all the hospitals
and all the wards
in this area
you managed to walk
into mine
she adds
you make me sound
like Bogart to Bacall
you say shyly
how about a drink later
down the road to the bar?
she says
You're permitted to drink
while on drugs?
you ask
studying her eyes
and her lips slightly parted
only cola
she says pulling a face
but at least it gets me
out of this place
for an hour or so
you look at her
a small stirring
still taking place
between your thighs
there's a small room
where they keep brooms
and brushes and such
where we can go
for a quickie
she says
looking at you
studiously
then breaking
into a laugh
at the sight
of your shocked face
some other time
you say
some other place
cigarette?
she asks
opening up
the pack you'd brought
you nod
and she hands you one
between her slim fingers
and you place it
between your lips
and she lights it
with a small red
plastic lighter
and you heave in
and feel the smoke
hit the back
of your throat
she inhales deep
and says
I prefer the ones
that make me float
and you see hollowness
open up in her
and her eyes
become wide open spaces
like cold winter skies.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dubrovnik 1972.
Dubrovnik seemed
a second home,
and you, in a street
cafe, sat drinking coffee,
with that book on
Schopenhauer open
on the table, a cigarette
smoking in an ashtray
unattended, thinking
of the girl in the hotel
restaurant the night
before, the waitress
who smiled at you as
she served and went
by your table, and your
brother said, I don't
fancy yours much,
indicating with a nod
of head, another
waitress over by a
nearby table, plump
and spotted, wearing
a scowl instead of a
smile, and all the while,
he eyeing, as young
men do the beauty
that had caught your
eye going by, but all is
fair in love, so men
have said, so picking
up the book on
Schopenhauer, and
further reading,
holding the cigarette
between the fingers
of the hand not
turning pages, you
inhaled with deep
concentration the
smoke and words
spread across the
page, written by a
philosopher of a
foreign tongue
and different age.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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