The Gun.
The gun was tucked
into the belt
of your jeans
the hat (your father's
borrowed trilby)
pushed to the back
of your head
you had recently shot
the boss-eyed sheriff
behind the grocer's store
and rode with Jessie James
across the open plains
of the local park
and pumped Pete Badham
full of imaginary lead
in the back not the head
to have a better chance
and entering the bar
of the High Rider
you ordered a glass
of Red Eye
(water from the tap
in a borrowed glass)
and chattered up
the girl (slut as your mother
would have called her)
who wore feathers
and a very short skirt
(Dave Walker's sister)
and sipped the water
with a pulled face
and still had time
before sundown
(your mother calling
you in for bed)
to have it out
with Billy the Kid
and Wyatt Earp
blowing the smoking gun
just a kid
being a cowboy
having fun.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Borrowed
borrowed shirts, borrowed shoes,
borrowed books, borrowed thoughts,
borrowed bed, borrowed lover,
borrowed dreams, borrowed salt.
borrowed children, borrowed mothers,
borrowed study, borrowed lives.
borrowed God, borrowed heaven,
borrowed killers with borrowed knives.
borrowed flags, borrowed lies,
borrowed virtue, borrowed freedom.
borrowed bombs, borrowed bullets,
borrowed puppets, borrowed kingdoms.
borrowed soup bowls, borrowed numbers,
borrowed tents, borrowed bridge.
borrowed hope, borrowed survival,
borrowed till it's sacrilige!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Still Life in Landscape
It was night, it had rained, there were pieces of cars and
half-cars strewn, it was still, and bright,
a woman was lying on the highway, on her back,
with her head curled back and tucked under her shoulders
so the back of her head touched her spine
between her shoulder-blades, her clothes
mostly accidented off, and her
leg gone, a long bone
sticking out of the stub of her thigh—
this was her her abandoned matter,
my mother grabbed my head and turned it and
clamped it into her chest, between
her breasts. My father was driving—not sober
but not in this accident, we’d approached it out of
neutral twilight, broken glass
on wet black macadam, like an underlying
midnight abristle with stars. This was
the world—maybe the only one.
The dead woman was not the person
my father had recently almost run over,
who had suddenly leapt away from our family
car, jerking back from death,
she was not I, she was not my mother,
but maybe she was a model of the mortal,
the elements ranged around her on the tar—
glass, bone, metal, flesh, and the family.
poem by Sharon Olds
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Glass Of Water Please
and so the story wants to end itself with a
glass of water.
those who cry after always need
a glass of water.
those whose hearts are broken
those who sob
those who close the window of the niche
those who have nightmares
those who wake up at 3 o'clock in the morning
those who sit on bed and cannot sleep back
always go to the kitchen
open the refrigerator
get a glass and splash
a cold glass of water
this time, i am asking for a glass of water
for i could be
all of the above or you could be one of those
i have described
but who knows we are not one of those
who knows
we are but just anyone who is normally thirsty
and with nothing to ask
simply ask
for a glass of cold water.
and cheerfully, we do not forget to say
please....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song: On Borrowed Time
We're all living on borrowed time,
Near the brooding sea and brine.
And we grow our primate's spine,
In every clime.
Since we crawled out from 'neath the grime,
And evolved to a species – prime.
We've been living on borrowed time,
On borrowed time.
On borrowed time. We feed and dine.
On borrowed time. In swill like swine.
On borrowed time. We sup our wine.
On borrowed time. On borrowed time!
On borrowed time. In slow decline.
On borrowed time. No season shines.
On borrowed time. No reason rhymes.
On borrowed time. On borrowed time!
We're all living on borrowed time,
Acting out our roles in mime,
As if you cannot tell that I'm confused.
We're all living on borrowed time,
And we're captured hook and line.
Enraptured lives entwine as minds unloose.
On borrowed time, by frantic chime,
Of doomsday clocks and scam sub-prime.
On borrowed time, we count the dime.
On borrowed time. On borrowed time!
From that day of Eve's droll crime,
When dull Adam su*ked the lime,
We've been living on borrowed time,
On borrowed time.
On borrowed time. By dread defined.
On borrowed time. Knee-deep in slime.
On borrowed time. We moan and whine.
On borrowed time. On borrowed time!
On borrowed time. To heights sublime.
On borrowed time. Statistics climb.
On borrowed time. Who reads the signs?
On borrowed time. On borrowed time!
poem by David SmithWhite
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Hung My Head
Early one morning with time to kill
I borrowed jebs rifle and sat on the hill
I saw a lone rider crossing the plain
I drew a bread on him to practice my aim
My brothers rifle went off in my hand
A shot rang out across the land
The horse he kept running, the rider was dead
I hung my head, I hung my head
I set off running to wake from the dream
And my brothers rifle went into the stream
I kept on running into the salt lands
And thats where they found me, my head in my hands
The sheriff he asked me "why had I run"
Then it came to me just what I had done
And all for no reason, just one piece of lead
I hung my head, I hung my head
Here in the courthouse, the whole town is there
I see the judge high up in his chair
"explain to the courtroom what went through your mind
And well ask the jury what verdict they find"
I said "i felt the power of death over life
I orphaned his children, I widowed his wife
I beg their forgiveness, I wish I was dead"
I hung my head, I hung my head
Early one morning with time to kill
I see the gallows up on the hill
And out in the distance a trick of the brain
I see a lone rider crossing the plain
Hes come to fetch me to see what they done
Well ride together til kingdom come
I pray for gods mercy for soon Ill be dead
I hung my head, I hung my head
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hung My Head
Early one morning with time to kill
I borrowed jebs rifle and sat on the hill
I saw a lone rider crossing the plain
I drew a bread on him to practice my aim
My brothers rifle went off in my hand
A shot rang out across the land
The horse he kept running, the rider was dead
I hung my head, I hung my head
I set off running to wake from the dream
And my brothers rifle went into the stream
I kept on running into the salt lands
And thats where they found me, my head in my hands
The sheriff he asked me why had I run
Then it came to me just what I had done
And all for no reason, just one piece of lead
I hung my head, I hung my head
Here in the courthouse, the whole town is there
I see the judge high up in his chair
Explain to the courtroom what went through your mind
And well ask the jury what verdict they find
I said I felt the power of death over life
I orphaned his children, I widowed his wife
I beg their forgiveness, I wish I was dead
I hung my head, I hung my head
Early one morning with time to kill
I see the gallows up on the hill
And out in the distance a trick of the brain
I see a lone rider crossing the plain
Hes come to fetch me to see what they done
Well ride together til kingdom come
I pray for gods mercy for soon Ill be dead
I hung my head, I hung my head
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who are these people?
Who are these people? where are they streaming? Glass eyes tight shut as though they were dreaming?
Garrotted, throats slit as a token of sacrifice to the eternel god's,
Bodies cast down to the depth's of brooding pete bogs.
'Did you surrender yourself, your will to the ritual, Or be this simply a punishment for a crime, we shall never know.'
Sword's split skull's, not hard enough to kill
Just to lull, least drag their victims senses into the void.
Calling on the Goddess of spring through to autumn, of summer's sun and winter rain
Only your head, throne of the soul survives the passage of time to breathe again.
'From where did you come? ' ask's the child to his mother
'From my mother, her mother before her'
'So where does my father fit into this, what seem's such simple a matter? '
'He work's his hand's to the bone, then come's home late, wait's at the table just to get fatter.
That's what he does, he seems happy enough, he has no illusions to shatter'
'What off my father, from wence doth he stem, from his father and father before? '
'Nay, It goes way further than that, to back when, our only mother was the mother of yore
Mother of earth, blessed mother of pearl, reveal to us the wisdom's with which you blanket the world.
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mrs Clark's Daughter.
Your mother stood talking
With Mrs Clark after school
And you were kicking your
Heels waiting to get home
To your toys and games and
You gazed at Mrs Clark’s young
Daughter who poked her head
Out from around her mother’s
Wide ass and stared at you
Through thin wired spectacles
Which made her eyes large as
Fish in glass bowls and her hair
Was ribboned up in two plaits
Either side of her head giving
Her a stern expression and Mrs
Clark said Helen here has a crush
On your son or so she told me
After school yesterday and Mrs
Clark gave you a big smile like
A hippo coming out of water
And your mother said he never
Talks of girls and such all too
Busy with his toys and games
And shooting from his imaginary
Horse around the house and
Mrs Clark said well boys will
Be boys and girls be girls each
Playing games with their own
Toys and Helen poked out her
Tongue and a boss-eyed stare
God was you glad when your
Mother took you out of there.
poem by Terry Collett
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Water On Glass
Written by ricky & marty wilde
Cascading down
Theres a sound vaporising into vision
Its a sound in my head
That I feel and it shuts me in a prison
Say it wont last
Say it will pass
Always the sound in my brain
Can you hear it
Water on glass running down again
Water on glass that sound
Water on glass running round again
Help me, the sound of running waters
Coming down
Dancing away
Like the lights on a moving coloured river
Sounds in my head seem to run
And again I feel a shiver
Say it wont last
Pray it will pass
Always that sound in my brain
Can you hear it (can you hear it)
Water on glass running down again
Water on glass that sound
Water on glass running round again
Help me, the sound of running waters
Coming down
Water on glass running down again
Water on glass that sound
Water on glass running round again
Help me, the sound of running waters
Coming down
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jealousy
She wore braids in her hair
every single day.
Not because she wanted to.
It was her mother's way.
She braided them so tightly.
She thought her head would break.
Sometimes just the thought of them
would make her poor head ache.
'Why can't I have my hair
flowing down my back?
Her mother's frown would let her know
to try some other tact..
'Mother can we cut it
just above my shoulder? '
the answer that was given was
'Not until you're older.'
And so she wore her hair like this.
She never wore it down.
When at night she unbraided it
she looked just like a clown.
She knew she would cut it
the very next day
right in front of her mother
to see what she would say.
Her mother watched and sat down
and had a cup of tea.
Her mother simply said
'Now you're more beautiful than me.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Snake and Potato Bug
A TRUE TALE.
'Can such things be and overcome us like a summer cloud,
without our special wonder, '-SHAKESPEAR.
In a grocery store in Ingersoll our attention was called to a copper-headed
snake wriggling in a glass jar. We noticed a peculiarity about its head, but
soon found out it was a potato bug, which was afraid of being drowned ; and
the only above water being the snake's head and neck, it was fondly clinging
thereto. There being 'no jutty-frieze buttress or coigne of vantage, where it
could make its pendant bed, elsewhere.
Some poets they abroad do roam,
But we find themes are near to home ;
As we do seldom travel far,
This is a song of a glass jar.
Snake of species of the copper,
And on its head there was live hopper,
For we saw that funny sight
In a store, it was last night.
There in water was a snake,
And a bug so wide awake;
He was afraid that he would drown
So he clomb up on the snake's crown.
This snake it is near a foot long,
Which doth suffer this great wrong,
It thinks the bug wants it to throttle
This makes it wriggle in the bottle.
But fondly the kind hearted bug,
It doth its preserver hug,
For the bug when on the water
It is only but a squatter.
And hath taken up homestead
On the top of the snake's head,
And on the waters it doth float
Safe and happy on this boat.
poem by James McIntyre
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Molly's First Drink
Molly brings the gin
to her lips
and allows the glass
to linger there
oh that smell
that takes me back
she says
although none other
could hear
too busy
with the raptures
of someone else’s
cheerful celebration
but nonetheless
she sips her drink
permitting the liquid
to swallow down
and it takes me back
she repeats
to that first drink
that Christmas
when Granddaddy
left the gin
in the parlour
the lid open
and me just
a young slip
of a girl
before the double figures came
and pouring a glass
and listening out
for the voices
of others
sipped quick
and hearing
a booming laugh
from the other room
probably Uncle Flint
tickling and touching
and the laughter
loud and dirty
was my Mother’s.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Letters Or Feathers?
A letter has run into feathers,
The old image of letters are words;
Keep the frock of letters a secret,
How delightful a clean person this is!
Letters are dear to the touch,
Few will discover a grassy bank,
In wrapped water, water all white,
Leaving fishes to the taste,
Feathers are scales this time.
My head chattered from time to time,
Leaving the dear person in a landing.
Let the river seek a blunt instrument
Called rocks, a fully able object,
Worrying is all it contains.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Orphan Girl
(gillian welch)
I am a orphan
On gods highway
But Ill share my troubles
If you go my way
I have no mother
No father no sister
No brother
I am an orphan girl
I have had friendships
Pure and golden
But the ties of kinship
I have not known them
I know no mother
No father no sister
No brother
I am an orphan girl
But when he calls me
I will be able
To meet my family
At gods table
Ill meet my mother
My father my sister
My brother
No more an orphan girl
Blessed savior
Make me willing
And walk beside me
Until Im with them
Be my mother
My father my sister
My brother
I am an orphan girl
Be my mother
My father my sister
My brother
I am an orphan girl
I am an orphan girl
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother, Father
Mother, father please explain to me
Why a world so full of mystery
A place so bitter and still so sweet
So beautiful and yet so full of sad, sad...
Mother, father please explain to me
Why forests march to desert speed
While snowcapped mountains melt away
What do we tell our babies, when do we say, oh
Mother, father please explain to me
How a man who rocks his child to sleep
Pulls the trigger on his brothers heart
He digs a hole right to the middle of this storm of hatred
Mother, father please explain to me
How it could be so this world has come to be
A precious balance in between
Such cruelty and such kindness please
Mother, father please explain to me
How this world has come to be
Unequaled in her blessings, oh, I see
Unbridled hatred so extreme, please tell me
Mother, father please explain to me
How this world has come to be so
Twisted between time and dreams
Oh, mother, father please explain to me
Oh, whats all this talk about?
All this talk about it
Spinning down, down, down, down, down
All this talk about
Endless words without
Nothings done
Mother, father do you know
Why one mans belly overflows
Another sleeps in hungers bed
Oh, we trade our world for a piece of bread
Oh mother, father please explain to me
How this rare worlds come to be
A place so full of color yet overflowing
Always in black and white
Drowning in the waters of our...
Mother, father please explain to me
How this world has come to be
While still blessed in all the things we see
Such a sad, sad home for you and me
Come out, and hold,
Come on out you
Come on out you
Come and save yourself
Come on out you
Come on were taking the water
Were taken the water
Were taken the water
But you know
We got the freedom
We got the freedom
Theres no God above
And no hell below
Oh, its here with us
Its up to us
To keep afloat
How this sweet world has come to be
Oh to keep afloat
Mother, father please explain to me
How this rare world has come to be
Oh, let the blue planet
Let the blue planet
Mother, father please explain to me
Mother, father please explain
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Swings and Slides
And she likes to ride
on the swing and rise
higher and higher and
see beyond the hedges
and see houses and trees
and people passing
and wonders if it's always
so and as she rises higher
her hands gripping the
ropes of the swing she
feels her stomach turn
and turn and remembers
when her mother's new
boyfriend pushed her
on the swing a few years
ago how he would say
how high you want to
go Celia? and he'd push
her higher and higher
and she called out I'm
frightened slow me down
but he just stood there
laughing and waving his
hands and gawking at her
legs as she went up and
down and she tried to slow
herself down but he just
pushed her high again and
she said I'll tell on you
pushing me too high but
he just shook his head
and pushed her instead
and then once he felt he
wanted to he pulled on
her ropes and slowed her
down and put his hands
on her thighs and squeezed
and held her there for a
moment or two staring
into her eyes and said that
wasn't too bad was it?
And he grinned and she
wanted to say something
to her mother but never did
and when she got home
she said nothing and just
went to her room and stared
out at the park with its swings
and slides and the innocent
children laughing and smiling
and full of joy unaware as
she was then and knows now
how touches and suggestions
can end the innocence of
childhood in a single moment
once and for all and to no good.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forgetting About A Birthday
On my birthday time came and went.
At this point in my life presents are irrelevant.
No friends remembered the date this year.
Only my brother, my step father and mom.
And I only saw one of them that day.
I went to work for 3 hrs only to get stitches in my head.
1hr and half wait at med express near the lycoming mall.
Because my boss is too cheap to take me to the emergency room.
That's okay the wait was shorter then what emergency room from what I understand.
A 2 hr + wait there.
100 bucks versus 700 bucks also don't blame him there.
After that it was back to work for another hour yah!
Yeah right the excitement was when I was getting home and going to bed.
You get a gash in your head and tell me how you would feel.
But it is okay.
That is how much my boss really cares about money versus his employee that never calls off for a single day.
No wonder his turn over is so high.
Hes so tight he squeaks, even when hes buying you a lunch with money you borrowed, he is both expecting you too pay it back and keeping the receipt to write it off on his taxes as a business expense.
I got some dirt in my mouth please excuse me while I rinse.
Ahh that's better, well not really but at least it's off my mind.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sex Never Goes Out Of Fashion
She's the kind of girl who likes to do it stand up
From the back or anyway you want it, love
From the top if you keep it going all night
You're as good as the next for a fun time
Lookie here like a rabbit on the dancefloor
Party girl like you comin' in the back door
"c'mon boy, give it good, give an encore.."
Never leave a hungry sister begging one more
You keep it good and she'll beat you at your own game
Flip a switch and she's crying out her own name
Keep a lady happy as a little lamb
Give her head and you're riding on a sure shot
It's a sure shot... Honey, it's a sure shot
It's a sure shot, sure shot, sure shot
It's a sure shot... Honey, it's a sure shot
It's a sure shot, sure shot, sure shot
It's a sure shot... Honey, it's a sure shot
It's a sure shot, sure shot, sure shot
Wham bam slam it like a mama's man
Baby's on her back doin' the can-can
Such a babe-licious poco loco
Make her bob, make her beg and sweat it hardcore
Honky tonky lovin' keep her trembling
Funky style's never out of fashion, man
Keep it fresh with something for the weekend
Get some, daddy... You're riding on a sure shot
It's a sure shot... Honey, it's a sure shot
It's a sure shot, sure shot, sure shot
It's a sure shot... Honey, it's a sure shot
It's a sure shot, sure shot, sure shot
It's a sure shot... Honey, it's a sure shot
It's a sure shot, sure shot, sure shot
A little bit more
(Down her legs)
A little bit more
(Down her back)
A little bit more
(Down her neck)
A little bit more
(Down her arms)
A little bit more
(Down her breast)
A little bit m
song performed by by Garbage
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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