On The Day Mrs Modfig's Husband Died
On the day
Mrs Modfig's husband died
she was being rogered
by a Spaniard
she'd met
in Santa Fe
staring at
the off white ceiling
with a
I'm being
well taken care of
feeling
and didn't give
her husband
a second thought
thinking him
back home
working hard
sipping the sherry
smoking the cigar
feet up
watching TV
maybe seeing
that slut from the store
as he had before
no she was content
having this Spaniard
giving her the works
making the night
feeling young again
hoping for more sunshine
far away
from the rain
and her husband
and his moans and groans
and his occasional
rogerings
in their safe
and boring bed
and later
at the funeral
in her black hat
and dress and coat
and matching gloves
she shed
the crocodile tears
remembering
other loves.
poem by Terry Collett
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Related quotes
A Husband...
A husband should be
Loyal and honest
A husband should be
Strong and protective
A husband should be
Loving and romantic
A husband should be
Patient and understanding
A husband should know
When enough is enough
A husband should know
When to fight and when to cry
A husband should know
all your goals and dreams
A husband should know
your strengths and well as your weaknesses
A husband needs to be a true man
A husband needs to love you unconditionally
A husband needs to know your heart is forever his
poem by Sarah Holmes
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My Husband
It is true:
My husband
has never
taken out
the garbage
from our little house
in the suburbs.
My husband
has never
taken our children
out for the night
to trick-or-treating
as I sit
on the porch in a witch hat.
My husband
has never
come home from
a long day
to a special meal
I have prepared
just for him.
My husband
has never
told me he loves me
beside a warm fire
on our honeymoon.
But he will.
poem by Erica Francis
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Where It Was At Back Then
Husband,
last night I dreamt
they cut off your hands and feet.
Husband,
you whispered to me,
Now we are both incomplete.
Husband,
I held all four
in my arms like sons and daughters.
Husband,
I bent slowly down
and washed them in magical waters.
Husband,
I placed each one
where it belonged on you.
'A miracle,'
you said and we laughed
the laugh of the well-to-do.
poem by Anne Sexton
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The Personal Trainer
husband
didn't pay attention when she started to change her look,
after all, she'd been saying how she wanted to for a while &
it seemed to make sense,
what with her going back to the gym full time,
after a period of time away
when they first had been married-
husband just went about his days
working more hours than he knew what to do with,
business was good &
with all the business around him seeming to fail,
he'd been putting away for the life he imagined in the future,
with or without
her-
but her time spent at the gym seemed to increase &
thought her body began to get trimmer, sexier, tighter, stronger &
she seemed to walk around the house with a new zest for life
(when he was there to see her) ,
he still didn't notice that
the personal trainer had moved in-
she had said something to him,
but he was listening less & less
as he had more & more to worry about at work,
for it was all part of building his empire.
the personal trainer was a less successful man
by the standard that money can by,
but he listened to her
as he traced her curves with his fingers in the gym
with palms of his hand smoothly gliding over her muscles
making her body quiver &
it wasn't long before in the car outside the gym
they consummated the professional relationship
again &
again &
again &
again.
as she began to show less interest in sex with her husband,
he wrote it off as a side-effect of marriage &
found himself a main squeeze on the side,
a 20 something who needed money to get her through college
with a perkiness that made him feel young again &
a body that wouldn't quit-
as he grew more distant from the wife,
she grew closer to the personal trainer,
until the day when she brought him home to the house,
when she swore the husband would be gone.
husband found out the way a husband will
when husband had been no longer interested
until another shows his face, as it is only jealousy then
which kicks in, making husband suddenly care-
but personal trainer put husband on the ground
when husband came into his own bedroom
to find personal trainer banging away his bride
who now had no interest in husband-
husband sued the personal trainer for assault &
bride to be divorced husband, taking half of everything he had,
breaking his empire down to nothing
as he had been stupid enough to not require a prenup
at the beginning of it all.
poem by Andrew Delapruch
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I miss my twin sister
My twin sister...
Many people said like that to us
Even, we are not coming from the same dad and mom
But our figure are almost the same
I remember when the time she visit me and my husband
My tears came up from my eyes
I don't know why i did that
Maybe because i need her to share my feeling
I need her to hear my story
You lend me everything
You lend me your books
You lend me your Bible
You lend me your dress
You give many precious gifts to me
You lend me your husband to take me
You lend me your husband to hear my sharing
I am sorry my sister, I know i hurt you
But, i never want to replace your place
He is your King
and You are his Queen
No one can't doubt me for that
Please, smile for me
You look so pretty with that dress
He is so lucky to have you
Pray for me.... so i can live my life with smile
A Stroll Down Memory Lane
I was at home
When I saw an old shirt
Thought I got rid of all of you
Now your presense rebirths
I smell your aftershave
I smell your cologne
Your'e still lingering
Though this is not your home
Just that flashback
Makes me want you back
Makes me want a future
Makes me hate the past
Then I look around
And remind myself that I'm married
Since we broke up
My life has still carried
I see new shirts
new fragrance of colognes
My Husband walks in
Reminds me It's OUR home...
That's right a husband
Something you couldn't commit to be
That's right a good man
one who loves me for me
Thats right someone who lives with me
Not those occasional night stayings
A stroll down memory lane
Now I'm done dwelling...
poem by Diamond Williams
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So Extraordinary.
So extraordinary
that each time you saw her
it was like the first time
as if you had been new born
to the vision of her
even that last time
when she went across your view
with her husband
to the grocery store
and looking over at you
she smiled that smile of hers
and her eyes had that same sparkle
and even though
you had not seen her
in a few years
and didn't know
her husband from Adam
you still felt seeing her
as if you had seen
a Degas painting
for the first time
or heard Beethoven
touching your ears
at a young age
or smelling your first Chanel
on some dame
but as she went by
into the store
and disappeared from view
you wanted to turn back the clock
to that evening
walking home from choir
and she turned
and kissed you
beneath the moon
and held you close
and happily sighed
but time was fixed
in its rut
for having seen her
that last time
she died.
poem by Terry Collett
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A Grieving Widow
From the cemetery in Cameron Street she's a short walk away
And often at her husband's grave for his soul she does pray
An old miner of the black coal two years ago he died
Soon she will go to join him to lay forever by his side.
Her husband in his mid seventies when the Reaper for him came
And without her one true soul mate life for her not the same
They migrated to Wonthaggi in their early twenties in nineteen fifty three
He was her childhood sweetheart back home in Italy.
The saddest time of her life has been the last two years
She still grieves for her husband for him she still shed tears
Even at the mention of his name the tears come to her eyes
The stonger the bond of love is the sadder the goodbyes
Her son and daughter in Wonthaggi to her they live quite near
And stories of her old Homeland her grand kids love to hear
She tells them of the happy times their grand dad and her did know
When they were young in Italy so many years ago.
At her husband's grave in Cameron Street she says a silent prayer
A woman in her mid seventies with a silvery head of hair
And tears are welling in her eyes at her memories of the past
But no one lives forever and nothing ever last.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Family life
At home
Husband
And wife...
Some time fighting...
Word's to words...
With bad words...
Sometime hit
The husband wife
Mistakes...
Wife was crying...
Husband was woory...
Wife also
Lovingely hit...
Husband also take easy...
At night husband
Wanted wife
For sex...
Wife will say
Backpain acting
Going for
Hear with life
Every day
At familylife...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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My Husband.
Husband is someone;
You spend most of your life with.
And with him;
You are for years.
My life has become strong;
For my husband is not wrong.
My life has become independent;
For my husband never let me dependent.
My life has become pure;
For my husband had every cure.
My life has become romantic;
For my husband is very aromatic.
My life had a new beginning;
For my husband was nearing.
And the most valuable gift-
My husband has given me;
Are my 2 wonderful and the best kids-
And I thank God,
For the wonderful family he has given me.
poem by Anju Addanki
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Lady Macbeth
A person with ambition,
Whose life was full of tension,
And who changed her husband's mind,
With words that were not kind.
To end Duncan's life was her aim,
To this end did she her husband tame,
She made him kill their king,
So that the bells of kingship would in their home ring.
She said that she had no conscience,
That she was full of common sense,
That she had no feeling of regret,
That she would not allow kindness to near her get.
However, her mind did not leave her free,
Sadness and despair did she everywhere see,
And in the end she died with despair,
Alone and friendless in her dreary lair.
Desire for her husband's coronation she had,
Her life and death were very sad,
She was blinded by desire for the throne,
And thus died sad and forlorn.
poem by Pratheek Praveen
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A Letter from Me
Dear Katie,
I'm going to start this off by saying;
I love you and I'm safe.
I know you're scared, I'm scared too
But don't cry honey,
I'll be home soon.
How are the kids?
Give them a big hug for me,
And tell them I love them.
I'm missing you more than ever
Here in Afghanistan.
I'm wishing every night to
Wake up next to you.
Love,
Me
That was the last letter she got
From her brave husband.
He was killed in action two days
After she got the letter.
Katie cried and cried tears
Of not only saddness but of proudness
Knowing her husband, Cpl. Mitchell,
Died fighting for his country.
poem by Kailee Falvo
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Super Woman
She is very strong, does not complain about anything
she makes mistake, but still moving forward
Her husband is so proud of her
She takes responsibility husband home or not.
She did do all the paper works and gave her husband to sign.
She do everything, by herself. Everything
Super woman, who is like her?
She is every woman, wonder woman.
You know when you see her.
poem by Modupe Obatuyi
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The Seahorse
The seahorse doesn’t do divorce:
It picks a spouse for life.
The wife’s the husband and, perforce,
The husband is the wife.
A husband, feeling rightly proud
(As husbands are, of course) ,
Will say of her who’s well endowed:
‘My wife’s hung like a horse.’
poem by South Westerner
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Doppelganger or Such Like.
You remind me
of my brother
the woman said
after mass
meeting you
at the back
of the church
poor guy you thought
to look like me
and then the other day
while sipping a latte
at a Nero coffee house
you saw her again
sitting in the corner
with her husband
who was reading a paper
she looked up
saw you and smiled
some essence of her youth
held in there
at least in spirit
who is that?
your son asked
a woman from church
who says I look like her brother
you said
and what does her brother
look like?
he said
me I guess
you replied
taking in the Mozart music
in the back ground
some minuet
that Judy liked
some decades ago
whom you almost
made it with
until her parents
came home
before the time
they said
and she jumping up
altering her clothes
face bright and red
the woman's husband
put down the newspaper
and sipped his espresso
giving you a nod of recognition
you the guy
whom his wife said
looked like her brother
though he saw
little likeness
save for the beard
and moustache
and that look
about the eyes
you think
taking in his expression
imagining his thought process
he taking no notice
of the Mozart minuet
or knowing Judy's
white underwear
or red dress.
poem by Terry Collett
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Being Boring
(tennant/lowe)
---------------
I came across a cache of old photos
And invitations to teenage parties
Dress in white one said, with quotations
From someones wife, a famous writer
In the nineteen-twenties
When youre young you find inspiration
In anyone whos ever gone
And opened up a closing door
She said: we were never feeling bored
cause we were never being boring
We had too much time to find for ourselves
And we were never being boring
We dressed up and fought, then thought: make amends
And we were never holding back or worried that
Time would come to an end
When I went I left from the station
With a haversack and some trepidation
Someone said: if youre not careful
Youll have nothing left and nothing to care for
In the nineteen-seventies
But I sat back and looking forward
My shoes were high and I had scored
Id bolted through a closing door
I would never find myself feeling bored
cause we were never being boring
We had too much time to find for ourselves
And we were never being boring
We dressed up and fought, then thought: make amends
And we were never holding back or worried that
Time would come to an end
We were always hoping that, looking back
You could always rely on a friend
Now I sit with different faces
In rented rooms and foreign places
All the people I was kissing
Some are here and some are missing
In the nineteen-nineties
I never dreamt that I would get to be
The creature that I always meant to be
But I thought in spite of dreams
Youd be sitting somewhere here with me
cause we were never being boring
We had too much time to find for ourselves
And we were never being boring
We dressed up and fought, then thought: make amends
And we were never holding back or worried that
Time would come to an end
We were always hoping that, looking back
You could always rely on a friend
And we were never being boring
We had too much time to find for ourselves
And we were never being boring
We dressed up and fought, then thought: make amends
And we were never being boring
We were never being bored
cause we were never being boring
We were never being bored
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I lost that Loving feeling (song parody)
You never Lift the seat any more
When you have to pee
And when we’re making love
You always finish before me
it’s getting hard not to notice, Hubby
That weekly you get more and more chubby
I've lost that loving feeling
while staring up at the ceiling
I've lost that loving feeling
Now it's gone, gone, gone
Whoa-oh
Now there's no tenderness
In your eyes when you reach for me
You seem more interested
In our wall mount LCD
I’m depressed and inside I’m dying
Cause Baby can’t look beautiful crying
I've lost that loving feeling
while staring up at the ceiling
I’ve lost that loving feeling
Dead and gone gone gone
And I can't go on
No-oh-oh
Don’t expect me to get down on my knees for you
You’d have to pay me more than you expected to!
We’ve had it love, but now I’m gonna have my say
My day in court, the Judge will make you pay.
Bring back that loving feeling
with someone far more appealing
Bring back that loving feeling
Now it’s gone...gone...gone...
And I can't go on...
No-oh-oh...
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Blackjack Davey
1. black jack davey come a-riden on back,
A-whistlin loud and merry.
Made the woods around him ring,
And he charmed the heart of a lady,
Charmed the heart of a lady.
2. how old are you, my pretty little miss,
How old are you, my honey
She answered to him with a lovin smile
Ill be sixteen come sunday,
Be sixteen come sunday.
3. come and go with me, my pretty little miss,
Come and go with me, my honey,
Take you where the grass grows green,
You never will want for money
You never will want for money
4. pull off, pull off them high-heeled shoes
All made of spanish leather.
Get behind me on my horse
And well ride off together,
Well both go off together.
5. well, she pulled off them high-heeled shoes
Made of spanish leather.
Got behind him on his horse
And they rode off together.
They rode off together.
6. at night the boss came home
Inquiring about this lady.
The servant spoke before she thought,
Shes been with black jack dave,
Rode off with black jack davey.
7. well, saddle for me my coal black stud,
Hes speedier than the gray.
I rode all day and Ill ride all night,
And Ill overtake my lady.
Ill bring back my lady.
8. well, he rode all night till the broad daylight,
Till he came to a river ragin,
And there he spied his darlin bride
In the arms of black jack davey.
Wrapped up with black jack davey.
9. pull off, pull off them long blue gloves
All made of the finest leather.
Give to me your lily-white hand
And well both go home together.
Well both go home together.
10. well, she pulled off them long blue gloves
All made of the finest leather.
Gave to him her lily-white hand
And said good-bye forever.
Bid farewell forever.
11. would you forsake your house and home,
Would you forsake your baby?
Would you forsake your husband, too,
To go with black jack davey.
Rode off with black jack davey?
12. well, Ill forsake my house and home,
And Ill forsake my baby.
Ill forsake my husband, too,
For the love of black jack davey.
Ride off with black jack davey.
13. last night I slept in a feather bed
Between my husband and baby.
Tonight I lay on the river banks
In the arms of black jack davey,
Love my black jack davey.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My ex-mother in law
My ex-mother in law
was an unusual person
that could wish others
into death
and when my ex-wife’s
first husband died from cancer
she believed
that the Lord God
answered her prayer
and for me
she also prayed a thousand times
that same prayer
and fasted
and put tears with it
although I didn’t really
deserve it,
but here I am still
and it’s another story.
Her husband
falls down on the golf course
and is dead from a heart attack
and he hits his last ball
away into the bushes
without any control.
At the funeral
I had to help carry the coffin,
wash dishes
and what ever
my mother in law asked.
Father in law
had a small black dog
that went everywhere with him
and smoked pipe
like Van Donck
cannot stoke up on table mountain
and the dog
then also had to die
although it was great in health
and could still live for years.
I had to take mother in law
to the vet
as she couldn’t drive a car
and hold the animal
while he got
a last injection
and dig a grave
in the garden
and put him there.
l’Envoi
Now I wonder
what goes into such a person
that after her husband’s death,
she is finished
with every thing of his
and married
in months again
with somebody
to keep her company?
poem by Gert Strydom
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99 Times A Day
Every day she receives
the same 99 sms in her mobile
'Hi, what's up? Your husband'
The 99 sms he sends every day
only few of his yearning
to express how much he loves
the only woman in his life
She sometime replies to his message
sometime she doesn't
the husband starts thinking;
'Do I love her too much? '
The wife pisses off to death
the 99 sms doesn't allow her to sleep
she's really had hard time
to throw away his silly possessiveness
Husband and wife live with suspicious
guessing, and wondering each other
believing and trust is precious thing
Which cannot easily building in hours and days
poem by Nenden Suherni
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