Lourdes 2006
Jimmy opened his suitcase in the room
at Lourdes and said Oh no there's molasses
all over the clothes and shoes and I've got
a whole week here and he sat down in a chair
his head in his hands saying What have I done?
What am I going to do for clothes now? you
went over and looked in and sure enough
the molasses were over his clothes and shoes.
What am I going to do? he said and you said
Leave it to me Jim I'll sort it and you went through
the clothes taking out the items untouched
by the molasses and set them aside on the bed
and then carried the suitcase of black sticky items
Into the washroom and there one by one you carefully
washed them through with soap and water until
they were clean and smelt of soap and fresh air
and all the while 94 year old Jim sat in a chair
watching with his eyes watery and jaw hung loose
seeing the black water run down the wide plughole
and once it was done you wrung the clothes out
like your mother used to do when you were a kid
and hung them out on the balcony on the small
clothesline and placed the washed out black shoes
by the outside wall to dry out in the hot afternoon
sun and Jimmy came over and stood on the balcony
with one hand on the rail and the other on his stick
looking over at the Pyrenees in the distance and he
said That was real good of you. I owe you big time
and you stood next to him feeling the hot afternoon
sun on your face and arms and felt good and you
said You owe me nothing Jim I just did what some
good guy would and his watery eyes swept over you
matching the French sky's watery afternoon blue.
poem by Terry Collett
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Related quotes
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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French Shoes
He was a good lookin guy
Stood about six foot three
Long brown hair
As nice as he could be
Everybody liked him
But he didnt have a clue
He looked silly as hell
In those funny french shoes
You know the type
Without any heels
Leather soles
Kind of a slip on deal
He was cavalier
Whether hed win or lose
But he looked silly as hell
In those funny french shoes
I know its not right
To judge a man by his clothes
By the way that he looks
Or the people he may know
Im embarrassed to say
If I had to choose
I could never really trust
Any man wearing those funny french shoes
Funny french shoes
Funny french shoes
No man should be wearin
Those funny french shoes
They look good on a womans foot
I must say that they do
But no guy should be wearin
Those funny french shoes
Get some socks on, man!
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Closet
In the closet hung her dresses
and her shoes were on the floor.
She would not wear the dresses now
nor the shoes anymore.
He could not give her clothes away.
He smelled them everyday.
In the closet hung her robes
and nightgowns that were sheer.
She would not wear them in the nights,
her nights no longer here.
He could not give them all away.
He fingered them every day.
In the closet he felt close to her
and spoke in whispered word.
'I remember how you looked in these.'
He spoke as if she heard.
'I cannot give your clothes away.
They're all I have of you today.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Fade To Black
Sunday matinee
In a one dog town
Youre two seats away
I move two seats down
Wipe the tears from your eyes
The first kiss I stole
I walk you home
The credits roll
Fade to black
Fade to black
Fade to black
Fade to black
I hear my voice
On the telephone
But Im just running
The same old business
I feel like Im off
Somewhere so alone
Just watching us both
Running the distance
Watching us both
Slowly pull back
Fade to black
Fade to black
Fade to black
I come home
Clothes all over the place
Youre crying in the corner
Makeup running down your face
Your case is packed
The fight starts
I (? ? ? ? ? ) cursin
Baby is this the scene
Which we been rehearsin
Is this the one
Or have I lost track
Waitin for us
To fade to black
Fade to black
Fade to black
Fade to black
A face wet with shame
Eyes filled with hurt
I scream out your name
You rip my shirt
A small bungalow
A late afternoon
The sunlight falls
Like a bright veil
A camera pans
An empty room
The picture dissolves
Slowly pulls back
Fade to black
Fade to black
Fade to black
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Red Hot In Black
(r. stewart, j.cregan, k.savigar)
I met her in a little french cafe
Legs like a young giraffe
She was sitting reading baudelaire
Not exactly working class
She had a studio in st. michel
Crucifix around her waist
Che guevara all over the wall
She cant stand the sun on her face
Hey boys, what a look
Stop a train at fifty feet
Matching hair, matching clothes and eyes
Kinda like a tiger in heat
Red hot in black
Red hot in black
Revolution running through her veins
A radical from head to toe
The only record that she ever played
Was just like a rolling stone
We started talking by the candlelight
Her lips get closer to mine
We started dancing all around the room
Helped by a bottle of wine
Hey boys, mystery
Didnt even know her name
One night in paris, with a girl like that
Never going home again
Red hot in black
Red hot in black
Oh my, when I woke up
Shed already gone out to her work
My head was aching and my back was scratched
Ive never, never, never known a night like that
Took a walk along the avenue
So in love and so confused
My plane was leaving in half an hour
What would you have done in my shoes?
Hey boys, so you see
Couldnt get her outa my head
My regards to the folks back home
Gonna spend some time with red
Red hot in black
Red hot in black
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time To Sit
A time to sit, the doctor said.
The room silent,
the walls a dull grey,
painted God knows when.
The chair uncomfortable,
hard on the arse.
You look around,
cock your ears,
sniff the air.
Tell me, the doc said,
do you hear voices?
The carpeted floor
beneath the feet.
The shoes touch it.
You push hard down on it.
Not springy.
A small window high up
lets in light. The air is stale.
Body smell, sweat.
As if many have sat here
just like you on this chair.
The mind is a complex thing,
the doc said, layer upon layer
of memories and sensations
are buried there.
As if you didn’t know.
He spoke with an Irish lilt.
Just like you. Softer though.
Photographs were on his desk in his room.
You gazed at them as he spoke.
The wife of his some posh bit,
clothes aplenty, eyes just staring.
And two kids staring at you
from another photo: well fed,
nothing much wrong with them.
No screw loose, all right in the head.
The sitting in the room does you no good.
The voices are back,
never been away.
Good day, good day, they say.
poem by Terry Collett
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A Little Soap & Water
Stink like a bear stuck on a tree trunk
Baby you smell like a nasty payment
Wishing you had soap you couldn't buy Old bread in your Ice box
Ted in your knee trunks
Girl your boyfriend got a stinky job
Better then smoking steaks on a grill
You missing new points smoking a bottle
Your woman is a woman that sleeps all night
Know she stinking off her panties
Co patties where you work
Dancing like you twerk
Nasty manager never taking baths
Plane air pollution smell a bird
Oil got my clothes stinking
Go home FizTzle take a bath
She smells you but she work in air conditional
Clean your clothes smell good
America stinks how about you
Smell pollution like I'm smoking
A Little Soap & Water.
poem by Tommy Laster
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The Dirty Laundry Poem
This is the dirty laundry poem-
because we have traveled from town to town
accumulating soiled linen & sweaty shirts
& blue-jeans caked & clotted with our juice
& teeshirts crumpled by our gloriously messy passion
& underwear made stiff by all our joy.
I have come home to wash my clothes.
They patter on the bathroom floor like rain.
The water drips away the days till you.
The dirty water speaks to me of love.
Steamy in the bubbles of our love,
I have plunged my hands into hot water
as I might plunge them
in your heart.
After years of spots & splatters,
I am finally coming clean.
I will fly to you with a suitcase of fresh laundry,
strip my clothes off, heap them on the floor,
& let you scrub my body with your love.
poem by Erica Jong
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You Don't Know Me
I will disguise myself so no one
will really know who I am.
I will wear bright clothes and flashy shoes
and they will call me ma'am.
But when I'm in no one's company
I'll let my hair all down.
I'll put on a drab old shirt
and slippers of shabby brown.
For clothes do make the person.
That's what I've been told.
When my flashy clothes are on
I'm a sight to behold.
But that's not who I am you know.
I'm just a plain old gal.
But I can fool the best of them.
They think I'm a femme fatale.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Blue Suede Shoes
(carl perkins)
Well, its one for the money, two for the show
Three to get ready and its go man go
You can do anything that you want to do
But uh-huh honey, lay off of my shoes
And dont you step on my shoes
Dont you step on my blue suede shoes
You can do anything that you want to do
But uh-uh honey stay off of my shoes
And dont you step on my blue suede shoes
You can burn my house, steal my car
And drink my liquor out of my fruit jar
You can do anything that you want to do
But uh-uh honey stay off of my shoes
And dont you step on my shoes
Dont step on my blue suede shoes
You can do anything that you want to do
But uh-uh honey stay off of my shoes
And dont you step on my blue suede shoes
Well, its down on beale street late one night
A woman got mad and started a fight
Split my chin and bust my nose
Tore out the back of my best suit of clothes
I said, knock me down, step in my face
Slander my name all over the place
Do anything that you want to do
But uh-uh honey stay off of my shoes
And dont you step on my shoes
Dont step on my blue suede shoes
You can do anything that you want to do
But uh-uh honey stay off of my shoes
And dont you step on my blue suede shoes
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I love clothes. I can't control myself. I have a huge fetish for shoes and clothes and make-up. I'm the kind of person who doesn't like to wear things over and over again.
quote by Hilary Duff
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Christmas Shoes
It was almost Christmas time
There I stood in another line
Tryin to buy that last gift or two
Not really in the Christmas mood
Standin right in front of me
Was a little boy waiting anxiously
Pacing round like little boys do
And in his hands he held a pair of shoes
And his clothes were worn and old
He was dirty from head to toe
And when it came his time to pay
I couldnt believe what I heard him say
Sir, I wanna buy these shoes
For my mama, please
Its Christmas eve and these shoes are just her size
Could you hurry, sir?
Daddy says theres not much time
You see, shes been sick for quite a while
And I, know these shoes will make her smile
And I, want her to look beautiful
If mama meets Jesus tonight
He counted pennies for what seemed like years
And the, cashier said Son, theres not enough here.
He searched his pockets franticly
Then he turned and he looked at me
He said Mama made Christmas good at our house
Most years she just did without
Tell me, sir, what am I gonna do
Somehow Ive gotta buy her these Christmas shoes
So I laid the money down
I just had to help him out
And Ill never forget the look on his face
when he said Mamas gonna look so great
Sir, I wanna buy these shoes
For my mama, please
Its Christmas eve and these shoes are just her size
Could you hurry, sir?
Daddy says theres not much time
You see, shes been sick for quite a while
And I, know these shoes will make her smile
And I, want her to look beautiful
If mama meets Jesus tonight
I knew I caught a glimpse of heaven love
As he thanked me and ran out
I knew that god had sent that little boy to remind me
What Christmas is all about
Sir, I wanna buy these shoes
For my mama, please
Its Christmas eve and these shoes are just her size
Could you hurry, sir?
Daddy says theres not much time
You see, shes been sick for quite a while
And I, know these shoes will make her smile
And I, want her to look beautiful
If mama meets Jesus tonight
I want her to look beautiful
If mama meets Jesus tonight
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fish In A Bowl
Everywhere I go
A thousand faces stare at me
Eating from the palm
A date from hand to mouth
Break a leg!
The shoes are on the bottom
On your way
But the wardrobe always stays wide open
All washed up
Stood on the shore
The wave is over
But Im all washed up
Fish in a bowl
Everywhere I go
All bob and weave
Or sew it seams
Aiming low in life
They keep their noses clean
All washed up
Stood on the shore
The wave is over
But Im all washed up
Fish in a bowl
An ordered life from start to finish
And my timing is out
All washed up
Stood on the shore
The wave is over
But Im all washed up...fish!
song performed by by Haircut 100
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Living Well
This could only mean living well,
It missed its mark, my hand cut a trail
That was in the ocean of regrets,
This feeling eventually nauseated me.
What beautiful land! The home of sleep and air,
A busy park so well-trod by the gentry;
Emotions worked like water from a tap,
This expedition was on boots and shoes.
These people on land were very close to me,
Like clothes afterwards, on slippers and shoes.
The real me asked from the prayers why we walk.
When is the middle road taken? How long do we stay?
poem by Naveed Akram
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Marks of Sin
You waited for Fay
by the entrance
of the outdoor
swimming pool
in Bedlam Park
the Saturday afternoon sun
still strong
the voices and screams
of the kids in the pool
coming through
the high hedge
that surrounded all
around except where
the entrance was
with its turnstiles
and changing rooms
and wire boxes
where kids
kept their clothes
Pete Badham and his cronies
had gone by and in
a few minutes before
giving you the hard stare
which you returned
with equal share
you wondered if Fay's father
had stopped her going
finding some passage
in the Bible that he claimed
made it a sin
or maybe she had been kept in
for some misdemeanour
but then you saw her
coming through the park
in a blue dress
with a white towel
wrapped under an arm
thought you might not come
you said as she came
to the entrance
Mum let me come
after Daddy'd gone
off to work
she said
she opened a hand
to show the coins
held there
her eyes you noticed
were red
as if she'd been crying
glad you're here
you said
me too
she replied
and you both went in
each to the separate areas
for boys and girls
once you had changed
and put your clothes
in the wire box
you went out
to the pool
and dived in
the cool water
and waited for Fay
to come in
Dave Walker was there
at the deep end
keeping an eye
on Badham and his cronies
giving you the thumbs up
when Fay came out
she stood hesitant
on the edge
of the pool
dressed in her black
swimming costume
come on in
you called and waved
she climbed down
into the water
and swam towards you
her fair hair
darkened by the water
her legs flapping
behind her
as she swam
her hands pushing through
the water's skin
as she came to you
she put her arms
around your neck
her damp face
close to yours
you put your arms
around her waist
and she winced
and you let go
what's up?
you asked
nothing
she said
just a bruise
and she swam off
to the edge of the pool
and you followed her
and she pulled herself
onto the edge
and sat there
looking out
at the other kids swimming
you heaved yourself
onto the edge of the pool
beside her
she looked away
towards the high hedge
and you noticed
thin red marks
on her thigh
what's that?
you asked
pointing to her thigh
sign I have sinned
she whispered
Daddy said
to show the flesh
is a sin
and wouldn't let me come
and I answered him back
and he made the mark of
me having sinned
she stared at you
and touched your hand
say nothing to anyone
she said
promise?
ok
you said
let's go swim
she said
and dived in again
you seeing
the red marks
and sensing the pain.
poem by Terry Collett
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On The Rails
Phew! This department if so unbearably stifling,
The whole populace is frantically rifling,
Through loads of clothes, hanging up for inspection,
Either for your acceptance, or for your rejection,
On the rails,
At the Sales!
The available sizes left, are eight's and eighteen's,
In shirts, blouses, jumpers and denim blue jeans,
Bra cups in E's and F's and G's.
Skirts so short, they ride way above the knees,
What sort of 'shapes' are these stores expecting,
What choice, have we, when it comes to selecting,
From the rails,
At the Sales!
It's a manic crush, and there's really no mistaking,
Fighting over, items' that aren't worth the taking,
Like that half price dress, that was less than you thought,
But that someone else has just grabbed and has bought,
So quick, and you being just a little bit too slack,
You have lost it, and it won't now be yours, with diamante in black,
Off the rails,
At the Sales!
Oh! It's a battle, and such a mad struggle to survive,
And in the end, it takes so many hours to revive,
Your senses, and days like this one can be so tiring,
When buying these bargains, which you have stood there admiring,
Hung on rails,
At the Sales!
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Tryin' On Clothes
I tried on the farmer's hat,
Didn't fit…
A little too small - just a bit
Too floppy.
Couldn't get used to it,
Took it off.
I tried on the dancer's shoes,
A little too loose.
Not the kind you could use
for walkin'.
Didn't feel right in 'em,
Kicked 'em off.
I tried on the summer sun,
Felt good.
Nice and warm - knew it would.
Tried the grass beneath bare feet,
Felt neat.
Finally, finally felt well dressed,
Nature's clothes fit me best.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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After Prayers, Lie Cold
Arise my body, my small body, we have striven
Enough, and He is merciful; we are forgiven.
Arise small body, puppet-like and pale, and go,
White as the bed-clothes into bed, and cold as snow,
Undress with small, cold fingers and put out the light,
And be alone, hush'd mortal, in the sacred night,
-A meadow whipt flat with the rain, a cup
Emptied and clean, a garment washed and folded up,
Faded in colour, thinned almost to raggedness
By dirt and by the washing of that dirtiness.
Be not too quickly warm again. Lie cold; consent
To weariness' and pardon's watery element.
Drink up the bitter water, breathe the chilly death;
Soon enough comes the riot of our blood and breath.
poem by Clive Staples Lewis
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After School Tea.
Mother said
you were to go back
to Mrs Clark's house
for tea after school
and she would pick
you up later
after work
and so when
the bell went
for the end
of the school day
you went with Mrs Clark
and her daughter Helen
for tea and Mrs Clark
talked all the way
to her house
her words rough
as hewn stones
going over your head
to which you just nodded
or shook your head
and when you arrived
at the house
which smelt
of past dinners
and washing drying
and the baby's nappies
she said
What would you like for tea?
Bread and butter
bread jam
bread and Bovril
or dripping?
and how about
a large mug of tea?
Helen said
I'm having bread and jam
and a mug of tea
why don't you too?
you said
Yes that will be fine
and shyly sat in a chair
by the window
looking out
at the backyard
where washing hung
on a clothesline
and an old doll's pram
sat rusting by a wall
and Helen came
and sat next to you
in her grey skirt
and off white blouse
and swung her legs
back and forth
under the chair
her white ankle socks
and black scuffed shoes
coming in
and going out
of view
and she said
After tea
I'll show you my dolls
and the doll's house
my daddy made
out of orange boxes
and as Mrs Clark
made the tea
you sensed Helen's small hand
run along your arm
which set alarm bells ringing
in your head
and a sweating in your palm.
poem by Terry Collett
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Forgetting YOU
Forgetting you, was not easy
It kept me up all night
And I was trying to write a list
Of easy to forget things
Your nose was too big to forget
It often got stuck in the door
Or got mistaken for a clothes hook
Your eyes were the size of two small currants
Your face as white and as plump as a bun
Your lips slid sideways like a slit in paper
Your tongue flicked in and out
Like a lizard catching flies
Your nostrils were wider than blackwall tunnel
Your hair was a jungle of infestations
Your voice a hoarse monotone revealation
Your footsteps, two hooves in the hall way
Your belly the size of a large buddhas
Jelly baby
The sound of your whistle was unmistakeable
Your walk was hindered by big fat feminine hips
Your knee caps were two small castanets clapping in the wind
Your armpits carried the aroma of middle eastern promise
And last weeks dirty washing
Your diet was full of garlics and chillies and unbearable heat
The sound of your digestion was like the first rumblings of a volcano
Your flatulence peeled wall paper emptied a room without forewarning
Your breath was a deadly concoction of mildew and kittens breath
Your teeth were bright yellow tombstones crumbling at the edges
Your eyebrows two furry caterpillars dancing the rumba
Your feet two wet flat fish sprawled on the pavement
Your elbows two small hinges that squeaked on bending
Your arms unmentionable sticks attached to your shoulders
Your chest a bush of riotous hairyness
Your ears two small fans sprouting from under your cap
Which was flat and black
Your calfs were track marks full of pulsating blue veins
Your shoes glittery strap ons or sling back sandals
These were particularly hard to forget
infact because it was so hard to forget you
I decided to leave you
Out of the blue
Without warning
One morning
Before you had washed
Or flossed your teeth
Or opened your black currant eyes
I left in disguise
Intent on forgetting myself
By pretending to be you
For a while
Until I forgot myself
And then in time
Forgot you
(Except for your taste in'sling back ' shoes)
poem by Yvette Smith
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