En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Pushing One Leg Anne

Push me
through the avenue of trees

Anne said
I'm pissed off with the kids

asking how I lost my leg
and so you pushed

the wheelchair
along the avenue

out of sight of others
away from their childish chatters

and ball games
and cries of want and woes

go on you skinny arse
push push

she muttered
and you pushed on the handles

with all your might
over the dry grass

and she rocked
up and down

and side to side
until she bellowed

this will do small fellow
rest me here

and you let go
of the handles

and puffed for breath
and looked at her

sitting there
in the wheelchair

with her bright eyes
and black hair

and she pulled
your hand towards her

and laid it on her one leg
and said

that's your reward
for pushing me

and she rubbed your hand
over the red skirt

the soft texture
warming the skin

you watched her hand
holding yours

her other hand holding
the side of the chair

sensing her softness
beneath the hardness

and brashness
but saying nothing

just taking in
the sensations and newness

and she said
just as well Matron

hasn't seen this
or it'd give her

such a flush
and she laughed

and let go of your hand
and your hand lingered

over her thigh
like a bird set free

waiting to take
to the sky.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Leg Anne's Escape

One leg Anne
crutched herself
to the window

and stared out at the rain
Look at the pissing weather
she said

she let go
of the handle
of one crutch

and scratched her thigh
you stood just behind her
watching her standing there

like a dejected Napoleon
What do you think
they'd say if I got you

to push me out
in the wheelchair
in this Skinny Boy?

she said
looking at you
over her shoulder

They wouldn't allow it
you replied moving up
beside her

and peering out
at the rain
on the lawn and trees

I don't give a donkey's tail
what they'd allow
she said

being politer
than she usually was
Why do you want

to go out in the rain?
you asked
Because I hate

being shut up
in my room
or being pushed

around the corridors
like fecking Guy Fawkes
she crutched herself

away from the window
Come on Skinny Boy
let's venture out

But we'll get wet
you said following her
out of the room

Hush do you want
the grown ups
to know our plans of escape?

you stood beside her
by the backdoor
your eyes watched

the rain falling on
the path outside
Bring me a wheelchair

Skiing Boy
we're going to explore
you went to the store room

and pushed a wheelchair
to where she stood
and she sat down

and gave you
the crutches
Right off we go

she said
and you opened
the door

and wheeled her out
the raindrops
pattering on

and around you both
and she bellowed
Go go

on on
and so you pushed
and the rain fell

and she laughed
and opened her arms
and her hands

and said
This is living Boy
better to live

and be wet
than dry indoors
and dead.

poem by Terry Collett
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One Leg Anne and the Innocent Flirt.

Sister Mary pushed Anne
in her wheelchair
to the white table
where you were sitting

with Lydia Sad
and Malcolm
and a curly headed girl
with burn scars

on her face and neck
there
said the nun
here you can sit

and wait for breakfast
and catch the morning sun
Anne looked glumly
at the sky

and said nothing
as the nun
walked away
I wonder

what's for breakfast?
Malcolm asked
stewed cat on toast
Anne said

looking at Lydia Sad
whose blonde hair
and blue eyes
gave her

an angelic look
that's horrible
the girl with burn scars said
don't eat it then

Anne said
Malcolm looked at you
it wouldn't be that
would it?

He asked
no
you said
Anne's just having you on

why do you have to spoil
my fun Skinny Boy?
Anne said
it's not funny

Lydia muttered
not funny to say that
about cats being on toast
how are your haemorrhoids?

Anne asked Lydia
saw the fat nun
giving you the bum pill
Lydia blushed

and Malcolm looked
at the white table top
I'm telling Sister Bernadette
about you

the girl with burn scars said
go put your head
between your thighs
and breathe the air

Anne said
the girl got up
and left the table
followed by Lydia

and Malcolm
that's got rid of them
Skinny Boy
Anne said

why are you so horrible?
you asked
looking at her red skirt
just covering the stump

of her amputated leg
have a good look Skinny Boy
and she pulled up
her skirt to reveal

the naked flesh
and plump stump
you noticed
how the scar

seemed to pull
into a smooth redness
what do you think?
Anne asked

I've seen it before
you replied
when?
She asked

you showed me
the other week
while you were being weight
in the bathroom

she smiled
and pulled down
her skirt
I like you Skinny Boy

you're just
an innocent flirt
and she laughed
and her wheelchair rocked

and you smiled
and wondered
what she meant
by the word flirt

and looked discreetly
at her short red skirt.

poem by Terry Collett
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Welcome To The Jungle

Welcome to the jungle, jim
Welcome to the jungle, jim
Welcome to it, jim
Welcome to the jungle, anne
Welcome to the jungle, dan
Welcome to it, john
Think youre gonna like
I think youre gonna like it
Once youve given the jungle a chance
Think youre gonna like it
Once youve given it a chance
In the jungle
In the jungle
In the jungle
Now you will be with me
Put your hand in my hand
Lift up the rock and see all the things
That share the jungle with us
Welcome to the
Welcome to the
Trees
Trees
Push me in the face again
Push me in the face again
Push me in the face
Push me in the face again
Push me in the face again
Push me in the face
Didnt really like
I didnt really like
The last time when you pushed me in the face
Didnt really like
The last time when you pushed my face
In the jungle
In the jungle
In the jungle
Now you will be with me
Put your hand in my hand
Lift up the rock and see all the things
That live in the jungle with us
Put your hand near the bug
We are so much like them
See how the bug reacts to your hand
In the same way as I do
Notes
The dial-a-song version has substantial differences:
Welcome to the jungle, jim
Welcome to the jungle, jim
Welcome to it, jim
Welcome to the jungle, anne
Welcome to the jungle, dan
Welcome to it, john
Think youre gonna like
I think youre gonna like it
Once youve given the jungle a chance
Think youre gonna like it
Once youve given it a chance
In the jungle
In the jungle
In the jungle
Welcome to the jungle, diane
I think youre gonna like your brown safari hat
Welcome to the trees
Welcome to the trees
Welcome to the jungle, diane
Push me in the face again
Push me in the face again
Push me in the face
Push me in the face again
Push me in the face again
Push me in the face
Didnt really like
I didnt really like
The last time when you pushed me in the face
Didnt really like
The last time when you pushed my face
In the jungle
In the jungle
In the jungle
Welcome to the jungle, pierre
I think youre gonna like your brown safari hat
Welcome to the trees
Welcome to the trees
And welcome to the jungle, pierre
Jungle, jungle
Jungle, jungle
Jungle, jungle, jungle, jungle
Jungle, jungle, jungle, jungle
Push me in the face again
Push me in the face again
Push me in the face
Didnt really like
I didnt really like
The jungle once youve given it a chance
Didnt really like it
Once youve given it a chance
In the jungle
In the jungle
In the jungle
Welcome to the jungle, diane
Im glad you didnt like your brown safari hat
Welcome to the trees
Welcome to the trees
And welcome to the jungle, diane

song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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Not Always What We Seek

After you'd got on
the school bus
and sat down

in one of the side seats
Jane said
who did you fight with

in the playground
lunchtime?
Woolgar

you said
he pushed me over
against the wire fence

and I got up
and went for him
she looked disappointed

I didn't think
you could be violent
she said

I'm not usually
but it was an automatic
response to being

pushed over
you said
my daddy said

one should turn
the other cheek
especially if you're a Christian

she said softly
the school bus
started up

and took off down
the school drive
sorry

you said
but the creep
got under my skin

and if you let them
get away with it once
they'll always do it

she gazed at you
then out
of the window

at the passing shops
and buildings
of the town

were you watching?
you asked
yes I saw you

from the girl's playground
she muttered
not looking round

guess it looked
kind of bad
yes it did

she turned
and looked at you
but at least

you don't do it
all the time
she said

and touched
your hand
with hers

and you felt sad
inside that you'd
made her feel like that

and you saw
how lovely her
dark eyes were

how there seemed
to be a mini universe
in them with their own

galaxies and stars
and moons
next time I'll think twice

you said
before hitting
the other boy

she nodded
and smiled
and her hand

squeezed yours
her skin soft and warm
her hair black

and drawn back
into a ponytail
sitting there

beside you
her grey school skirt
and jumper

and white blouse
the neck open
the sight

of her throat
and you wanting
to kiss but not doing so

her neck
her skin
the feel

of her hair
against your cheek
sometimes

you thought
we can't have
what we seek.

poem by Terry Collett
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Whirlpool

Welcome to the jungle, Jim
Welcome to the jungle, Jim
Welcome to it, Jim
Welcome to the jungle, Anne
Welcome to the jungle, Dan
Welcome to it, John
Think you're gonna like
I think you're gonna like it
Once you've given the jungle a chance
Think you're gonna like it
Once you've given it a chance
In the Jungle
Now you will be with me
Put your hand in my hand
Lift up the rock and see all the things
That share the jungle with us
Welcome to the
Welcome to the TREES!...TREES!
Push me in the face again
Push me in the face again
Push me in the face
Didn't really like
I didn't really like
The last time when you pushed me in the face
Didn't really like the last time when you pushed my face
In the Jungle
Now you will be with me
Put your hand in my hand
Lift up the rock and see all the things
That live in the jungle with us
Put your hand near the bug
We are so much like them
See how the bug reacts to your hand
In the same way as I do

song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Other Hand...

the black man's hand,
the poor man's hand.
the Muslim hand, the Jewish hand...
the gay man's hand,
the working man's hand,
the ex-convict's hand,
the farmer's hand, the garbage man's hand...
the Christian's hand, the atheist's hand,
the father's hand, the soldier's hand,
the peacemaker's hand,
the healer's hand, the teacher's hand,
the prodigal's hand, even the murderer's hand...
the victim's hand, the broken hand,
the praying hand, the touching hand...
all, when extended,
feel like my other hand!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Hand-Me-Down!

got my hand-me-down boots,
and my hand-me-down jeans.
my broke down hand-me-down hat,
doing hand-me-down things.

my hand-me-down fire,
and my hand-me-down pot.
take a hand-me-down chair,
i'll share what i've got.

got some hand-me-down thoughts,
a couple of hand-me-down songs.
i've got a hand-me-down heart
that wont leave you alone.

we'll talk about hand-me-down freedom,
and hand-me-down truth....
in this hand-me-down world,
it's just me and you!

in this hand-me-down world....
paying hand-me-down dues!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Heart To Heart

(Emmylouy HarrisPaul Kennerley)
Heart to heart we'll hold together
Hand in hand we'll find a way
Oh, the storms of life may blind us
But with the loving vows that bind us
Heart to heart hand in hand we'll stay
Side by side forever and always
Day by day till our lives are done
This sweet love is ours to treasure
Far beyond all time and measure
Side by side day by day as one
The years connot take what's between you and me
We'll stand her together for the whole world to see
Heart to heart there'll be no other
Hand in hand for our love is true
Oh, the words that we have spoken
Will be a promise never broken
Heart to heart hand in hand with you

song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Son-in-Law you'll never be

Son-in-law others may see, but it will always be Son to me.
When you took my daughter by the hand and stood before God and man, and promised you would keep her through sickness and health, you became my son.
You stood beside her and held her hand to the very end.
You told her you would love her until your dieing day.
And that you could not live without her being by your side, that you loved her that much and then seven weeks later you laid down and died.
You have kept your promise that you would never leave her side,
that you would Love her now, forever and always.
Now you are standing by her side holding her hand in God's heavenly land.
So Son-in-law it will never be..for you will always be a son to me
For now, forever and always

poem by Bernice Shipman
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Anne and the Boys's Bath Night

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

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

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

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

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

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

almost uncrutching herself
in the process
you pulled the towel

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

you muttered
girls aren't allowed in
while boys bath

she moved over
to the mirror
and gazed at herself

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

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

over towards you
making you flatten yourself
against the wall

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

like an overturned beetle
you stood naked
your hands covering

what your father
called your toolbox
gazing down at her struggling

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

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

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

and laughed
and her laughter echoed
around the walls

but then she paused
and put a hand
over her mouth

hearing Sister Bridget's
nearby footsteps
and noisy calls.

poem by Terry Collett
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The Girl Who Held Your Hand

You got on the coach
for the day trip
organized by the chapel people
for kids who were poor

and this girl
sat next to you
and said
you can be my boyfriend

for the day
and she took hold
of your hand
and gave it a squeeze

and you looked out
of the window
at your mother
standing there

looking up at the coach
and you thought
is this part of the deal?
Is this girl for real?

And Mother waved
and smiled
and you smiled
uneasily back

with the girl’s hand
holding yours
out of sight
and she looked

over your shoulder
and waved
but no one
waved back to her

because her mother
wasn’t there
maybe she was off somewhere
or had to go to work

or maybe
she was still in bed
with another uncle
beneath the sheets

and maybe
he was holding her hand
and she was holding
something you never knew

or cared about
just sitting there
waving to Mother
beneath a sky of blue.

poem by Terry Collett
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The Place

Under the shade
On the north side
Of an old Victorian home
There is a place

Chained from its roof
Is a simple swing
This swing created
The 'Place'
The place away from all chaos

While sitting there.......
Imagination can take you
To 'your place '

Once while I was sitting there
I let myself travel
To a day
That felt like it had no end..

I looked at that 'swing' now
Being pushed from side to side
By winds without time
Its loneliness makes me shed a tear.

There was a time
The swing and I
Were not alone
A day I still remember passionately
It had no end
The day darkened to night
Its end was only the light.
The sky changed
Weaved in colors of blues
Progressively going to black
Light of stars breaking through the darkness
The end of this day was only the beginning
Beside me
Was a fine lady
Fair and kind
Once upon a time
Her hand
grasped inside mine
Small and simple
This kind affection
Given to me

There came an end
To an endless day

That lady kind and fair
Said 'She was not there
For me

Today I will shed another tear
And another tear
For that lady dear

I will never forget
Sitting on that swing

Complications and commitments
Of life pulled her hand away from me

Thinking to myself
Was her hand really in mine
Once upon a time

poem by Howard Johnson
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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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In Mrs Clarke's Wake

Mrs Clarke pushed
her battered bassinet
between market stalls

not listening
to the stallholder's
shouts and calls

Helen walked behind her mother
as told holding your hand
So I know where you are

Mrs Clarke had said
you sensed
Helen's small hand

in yours
her seven year old skin
touching your

seven year old flesh
her thin fingers
encircling yours

We'll see if they've got
a school skirt
for you here

her mother said
turning back her head
Helen nodded

and you noticed
Helen's enlarged eyes
behind her thick lens

spectacles
searching her mother's
large behind waddling on

stopping now and then
beside stalls
picking up clothes

searching for a skirt or dress
grey and the right size
Helen whispered to you

putting her head
close to yours
Rice pudding for tea

when we get home
with red jam
and sugar too

if you want
and she smiled
and you said shyly

That's good
because I'm starving
she looked at your hand

in hers and said
Then we can play
mums and dads

and my dolls
can be our family
her mother stopped

and picked up a skirt
and held it up
to the light

then held it against
her daughter's waist
judging for size

and you watched
her mother's hands
red with washing

and cleaning
thinking and gauging
the size and cost

as you studying
Helen's hand in yours
like a soul lost.

poem by Terry Collett
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Not For Me

Not for me she said
I don’t want to end up
like my mother
I want to reach out

and touch real life
and not end up
some man’s wife
and be endlessly

at his beck and call
and she sat
by the pond
looking over

to the other side
where the woods were dense
and reached out
and touched your hand

and you wondered
if there were still fish
in the pond
and if when

you brought your rod
the following day
you’d catch any
and you liked the way

the sunlight caught
the pond’s skin
and she said
I want to feel

being alive
feel the electric of life
run through my veins
and she leaned over

and kissed you
and placed her hand
between your thighs
and touched the hardness

of your crotch
and you said
do you know how big
the fish was

that got away
when I fished here last?

And she said
no but I know how big
the one I’ve caught is
and laughed

and released her hand
and gave you one
of her stares with her
large passionate eyes

and you noticed
a lone big bird in black
moving across
the bright blue skies.

poem by Terry Collett
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0194 A Boy's Vision

The boy walks past the window;
you can see he's
got something clearly in his mind;
walks firmly on both feet as if
he walked on grass;
his carriage upright,
a half-smile on his face;
his eyes are bright;
he swings his hands from side to side
in front of him.

He has a vision.

Ah yes.
His captain's just tossed the ball to him;
it's his spell to bowl.

This is what he was born to do;
he has the skills;
he knows he can do it; can't wait; but
no hurry, as he's confident,
switching the ball from hand to hand,
warming it with his love.

The boy walks past the window.
He has a vision.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Walk This Earth With Your Hands In Mine

Don't ever let go,
Don't ever give in!
Hold me close,
Hold me tight,  
Hold me every day,
Hold me ever night,
Tickle me,
Squeeze me,
Cuddle with me,
Love me forever,
Love me always,
Take my hand in marriage, and life,
Take my hand in barring our  children,
Take my hand in Good and bad times,
Take my hand in sickness, health, and death,
Take my hand in Heaven,
Take my hand for all eternity!  
You will always be my goddess,
You will always be the hottest,
You will always be my sweet heart,
You will always be my baby!  
I sware by the moon and the sun!
earth and the sky!  
Heaven and hell!  
That I will always love you!
I will never let go!
I will never give in!  
I will hold you when you cry!
I will hold you through the good and bad!
I will hold you in sickness, health, and death,  
I will take your hand in marrige and life,
I will take your hand while baring our children,  
I will take your hand in heaven,
I will take your hand for all eternity!  
Take my hand Through the journey of love!  
And I'll be right by your side holding your hand through it all!
I promise!

poem by Jacob Gifford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Virtue Vs Evil

Wherever you are wherever you go
I will go with you hand in hand
A faltered state of agony and lust
I will go with you hand in hand
Vying for the amelioration of offspring
I will go with you hand in hand
Injecting an age-long flight from right
I will go with you hand in hand
The endearment of wealth and spendthrift
I will go with you hand in hand
Wherever is the wretched face of human lure
I will go with you hand in hand
The pitfall of human lot has waged a spiritual war
I will go with you hand in hand

poem by Hafiz Qasim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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