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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Related quotes
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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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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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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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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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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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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Bombsite Walk
Fay walked with you
across the bombsite
off Meadow Row
the bombed out houses
like decaying teeth
in an old jaw
if Daddy saw me here
he'd spank me
she said
looking over the site
where weeds grew
in cracks and over
once backyards
and living rooms
there's no danger
if you step careful
you said
Daddy says
it's walking on the dead
Fay uttered
looking at you
sideways on
her hands raised at her sides
as if learning to fly
all things born
will some day die
you said
standing on a broken wall
come on let's go in
the haunted house
or so it seems
you laughed reaching out
for her hand to bring her forth
she hesitated
looked around
fearing her daddy's
beady eyes
then took
your hand
and followed in
the semi dark
of bombed out room
it stinks of piss
you muttered
she giggled and set her foot
on bricks and stony floor
what if it all falls in?
she asked
looking up at the sky
through cracks and holes
her hand felt warm in yours
her fingers curled
around your own
it's just adventure
you said
you got to take a few risks
we're a long time dead
and her eyes widened
and stared
and she whispered
I'm scared
and clung to you
what do think
the people here thought
when the bombs fell
and they hadn't made the shelters
or didn't know
you said
she shrugged
her narrow shoulders
and bit her lip
my mother said
all they found
of her neighbours' child
was a blown off hand
don't tell me
Fay said
I will dream of that now
sorry I shouldn't have said
you uttered
feeling her fingers
grip your arm
her thin nails
marking skin
let's go out
she said
and off she went
dragging you behind
out into the sunshine
she looking to see
if her daddy'd seen
her sinful tread
but for you
looking back
it was just an adventure
on land of the dead.
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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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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The Touch Of Your Hand
On the day that you were born
I touched your hand so chubby and warm.
I touched your hand when you were one
and helped you walk my beautiful son.
I held your hand when you were two.
We ran, your favorite thing to do.
I held your hand when you were three
as you climbed on my lap and smiled at me.
I touched your hand when you were four
as the ocean touched our toes at the shore.
I touched your hand when you were five
walking you to school but when we'd arrive
I felt the tug of your hand from mine
and I knew that we had crossed a line.
I looked at you and released your hand
and said'it's okay I understand.'
As I walked back home I cried some tears
thinking of all our hand holding years.
Holding your hand became sporadic now,
when you were feverish or I felt your brow.
I held your hand a few times as a teen
but always alone so it wouldn't be seen.
I held your hand after you said, 'I do.'
We danced together just me and you.
After some years went by my son
you held the hand of your little one.
And so the times of your life turn around
and now that my hand is old I've found
you take my hand and help me walk
and as you do we intimately talk.
And it takes me back to that bright early morn
when I held your hand so chubby and warm.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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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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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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The Summer Recess of 62.
It was the second day
of the summer recess
and Judith and you
walked through the field
behind her house
and sat down on the grass
the sky above blue
like an upside-down ocean
with the white clouds
like small fluffy islands
and she said
Mother doesn't trust you
why not?
you asked
she doesn't trust any male
she says they're all after
the one thing
you looked at her
sitting there beside you
her hair brown and curly
and her eyes blue
and bright
and you said
not all males
are the same
she looked up
at the sky
and said
I know but that's
how she sees things
my mother likes you
you said
she says you're good for me
keep me focused
she smiled
and lay back
on the grass
and you lay
beside her
and turned
to look at her there
taking in her profile
and she turned
to face you
and she said
does your mother
trust us to be together?
sure she does
you said
an airplane
went over the sky
a sparrow hawk
hovered above
its eyes watching
and waiting
you put your hand
on her hip
and she placed
her hand on yours
you felt her hipbone
beneath her green skirt
moved your palm
gently over and over
she moved your hand
off of her hip
and said
just in case
mother's looking at us
from the upstairs window
would she?
you asked
of course
she said
she held your hand
and took it
and laid it
on her breast
her heart
somewhere beating
your hand sensing
the softness beneath
the white blouse
and she said
just as well
she never saw us
last Christmas
and you smiled
and remembered
and the sparrow hawk
flew off through the sky
and the sound
of a distant train
and your heart thumping
like the downpour of rain.
poem by Terry Collett
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Fay and You and the Ruler.
Fay met you
on your way home
from school
standing by the entrance
of Meadow Row
she was in her school uniform
a satchel
over a shoulder
how was school?
she asked
boring and the day
too long
you replied
but at least
you can learn things
she said
like how
to make a candle
holder in woodwork?
finding some river
in India
I'll never see?
you said
she smiled shyly
well maybe you will
she said
how are you?
you asked
ok
she replied
got told off
by Sister Bernard
for not having a ruler
what did you do
with your ruler?
you asked
lost it
she said
ah well
there you are
you said
naughty naughty
she walked on
down Meadow Row
and you walked
beside her
actually
she said quietly
my daddy took it
she stood still
and stared at you
he beat me
with it
she said
in a whisper
you looked
into her eyes
and saw your
reflection there
two yous
staring back
why?
you asked
taking in her paleness
her fair hair tied
in a ponytail
he said l hadn't done
my jobs properly
jobs?
you asked
around the house
helping my mum
and did you? help?
yes usually
but I forgot
this time
big crime
you said
won't he give
the ruler back?
no
she said
he said he will keep it
as a lesson to me
can't you buy
a new one?
you asked
I haven't any money
she said
you can have
one of mine
you said
I have plenty at home
can I borrow one?
you can have one
she smiled weakly
her eyes lit up
and she took one
of your hands
and held it
I'll have to hide it though
she said
or he'll take
that one too
quite a guy your dad
you said
she looked away
at the bombed out houses
on the left hand side
you saw her hurt
and sadness
some things you can't hide.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Helen and You and the Bombed Out Factory
Ought we to go in there?
Helen asked
as you both stood outside
the bombed out factory
off Rockingham Street
sure we should
you said
but it's got
STAY OUT signs
on the big doors
she said
you looked at her
with her thick lens glasses
and her hair tied in plaits
nibbling her finger in anxiety
come on in
you said
nothing will happen to you
while you're with me
she didn't look convinced
what if someone sees us?
she asked
no one cares around here
kids are always going
on bombsites
you said
she looked around
her eyes seemingly larger
than they were
are you sure?
she said
yes now come on
and you took
her small hand
and pulled her through
a small opening
in the side
where other kids
had made an entrance
she a pulled face
on the other side
of the gate
and rubbed her arm
where a line of blood showed
look
she said
I've scratched myself
you dabbed at it
with a grey handkerchief
and spittle and she watched
as you cleared up
the line of blood
will it be all right?
yes
you said
it'll be fine
and you walked on
across the yard
and into the bombed out factory by
a door hanging
on its hinges
and into the dark interior
she stood by the entrance inside
and took in the semi darkness
it's frightening
she said
no one is here
you said
how do you know?
she asked
it's too quiet
you said
she leaned closer to you
and grabbed your arm
what was that?
she whispered
a rat probably
what? she said
a rat
you said
let's go out
she said
nothing will hurt you
while I'm here
and you patted
the toy gun
in the belt
of your jeans
she looked at you
then out
into the semi darkness
you walked in
and up the stone stairs
by a wall
and she followed
her breathing
becoming louder
as you walked up
once at the top
and along a landing
you came to a small office
where the door was missing
and there was a hole
in the roof where a bomb
had blown it off
as well as other parts
of the building
you stood
looking around
the room
where rain had rotted
what furniture remained
and on the floor
were books soaked
and rotting
Helen said
can we go now?
you looked up
through the hole
in the roof
and there
was the afternoon sun
and a white cloud
moving slowly across
a blue sky
and she moved
next to you
and kissed your cheek
but you didn't know why.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Question of Love.
After climbing off
the school bus
she grabbed the sleeve
of your coat and said
I want to talk to you
and so you stayed behind
as your sister and hers
walked on ahead
and her brothers ran off
in a game of tag
she released your sleeve
and brushed the hair
out of her eyes
what is it? you asked
walking beside her
along the side of the road
the winter afternoon darkening
what was Roland
saying to you in class?
she asked
Roland?
yes Roland
in the last lesson of maths?
you looked over
at the tall trees
becoming tall giants
as the sky began to dim
he was talking about his sister
you said
then why was he looking at me?
perhaps he finds you attractive
you replied
she slapped your arm
with her hand
don't talk nonsense
he wouldn't find
Marilyn Monroe attractive
if she sat
on his bony knees
she said looking at you
with her big blue eyes
you rubbed
your injured arm
playfully
he was saying his sister
had found his collection
of dirty magazines under his bed
you said
a car whizzed by
and she turned
and shouted back at it
some words her mother
would have slapped her
for saying
she sighed and said
why can't you tell me the truth?
you stopped and stood facing her
her blue eyes gazing at you
searching yours
as if she'd left something there
on a previous occasion
he said he didn't know
what I saw in you
her eyes enlarged
and what did you say?
she asked
in the sky over her shoulder
the moon was beginning to shine
in competition
with the weak sun
I said you snogged
pretty good
you said
she slapped your arm
and walked on
no
you called out
I was only joking
she stopped
and turned
and glared at you
I said you were the best thing
to happen to me
since God created Sundays
you're lying
she said
all right
you said
seeing her eyes watering
I said I loved you
you said
looking at her
wondering if her hand
might slap you again
did you?
yes
and what did he say?
she asked
he just shrugged
his shoulders
and drew a picture
of Mr Parrot on the corner
of his maths book
she was silent
and looked by you
at the incoming traffic
then kissed your cheek
leaving a damp patch
like a small oasis
on a dry landscape
of your 14 year old skin
conjuring up images
her mother
would define as sin.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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But I miss you Gran
I miss you so much Gran.
You left me.
And I don't no why.
But i miss you Gran.
I thought you'd be here for ever.
But now you've gone away.
And I miss you Gran.
I wish you could come back.
I can no longer see you.
I can't touch your face or hold your hand.
I can no longer give you a hug and a kiss.
I miss you Gran.
I don't understand why you had to go.
You've gone from this world.
And I miss you Gran.
I wish you were here.
A friendly face you alwys had.
Words of wisdom you would give.
But I miss you Gran.
My heart is breaking.
I just hope you no that I loved you.
I miss you Gran I really miss you.
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wine From The Water
[parsons/bairnson]
You can take me up, you can wind me down
Theres no escape, but Ill never drown
No wires or strings, no rough and smooth
Just fire and stings, watch me closely, watch my every move
I can count your money while I check your hand
And you know I just cant lose
Wine from the water, gold from a tree
I wouldnt fool you, theres nothing up my sleeve
Look for a mirror, theres nothing there
I get rings out of nowhere, money from thin air
I can break these chains, while Im upside down
Well it may seem strange, I dont hit the ground
Now you see my hand, is quicker than your eye
You should know by now, what you see here, all of its a lie
I can count your money while I check your hand
And you know I just cant lose
Wine from the water, gold from a tree
I wouldnt fool you, theres nothing up my sleeve
Think of a number, Ill get it right
Throw me in the river, tie my hands up tight
I can wind you up, I can turn you round
No cunning stunts, till the ladys found
No coils or springs, just nice and smooth
No knaves or kings, find the lady, watch my every move
I can count your money while I check your hand
And you know I just cant lose
Wine from the water, gold from a tree
I wouldnt fool you, theres nothing up my sleeve
Look for a mirror, no, nothing there
I get rings out of nowhere, money from thin air
Wine from the water, gold from a tree
Now I wouldnt fool you, theres nothing up my sleeve
Think of a number, Ill get it right
You can throw me in the river, tie my hands up tight
Wine from the water, gold from a tree
Now I wouldnt fool you, theres nothing up my sleeve
Look for a mirror, theres nothing there
I get rings out of nowhere, money from thin air
song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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