Under Apple Trees
She lay beside you
under the apple trees
the bees and butterflies overhead
the glimmer of sunlight
through the branches
and she said
I can smell the apples
from here
and if I close my eyes
I feel I'm in a foreign field
lying in some overseas orchard
and happy beneath the sun
and you turned your head
and said
Am I with you
lying in that orchard
beneath a foreign sun?
and you studied her profile
the shadows dancing
across her cheek
a butterfly just above her head
Sure
she said
As if I'd dream of anywhere
without you by my side
and she reached out a hand
and touched your fingers
with hers and it seemed
a pulse danced
between the fingers
as if love momentarily
could be felt
could be sensed
in the space
between fingers
and riding
in the hearts
and heads
and she turned
to face you
her eyes reflecting
a different sun
and your hand sliding
along her thigh
and she shaking
her head slightly
eased out
a soft sigh.
poem by Terry Collett
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Related quotes
Naming of Things.
That's a Small Skipper
Jane said
And that's a Clouded yellow
as two butterflies
flittered overhead
as you both lay
in the tall grass
on the side
of the Downs
and you followed
her finger
as it indicated
the butterflies' flight
and then they were gone
and she gazed at you
and said
What?
How do you know
the names of things?
I'm a country girl
not a townie like you
she replied
her lips moulding
the words like a potter
moulds clay
and you caught a whiff
of her perfume
carried on the calm breeze
over your heads
and you looked
at her there
in the grass
her head turned back
to the sky
her eyes reflecting
the summer blue
and her left leg
bent upwards
so that her knee
stood naked
beneath the sun
and her right hand
lay next to yours
the white blouse
open at the neck
and she said
I often used to lay here
alone listening
to the overhead birds
and the winds' moan
watching tractors
in the fields below
and mother wondering
where I was
And now?
you asked
Does she wonder
where you are now?
she turned her head
and gazed at you
No not now
she knows I'm with you
and that I'm showing you
the store of nature
and the panoramic view
And she trusts you?
you asked
sensing her hand
touch yours
the flesh warm
and soft
She trusts you
Jane said
and another butterfly
fluttered by
like a ballerina overhead.
poem by Terry Collett
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Jane and You and the Gatekeeper
You sat with Jane
on the grass
in the field
beneath the Downs
she was looking
at the sky
and you
were watching her
her profile
her hair pulled back
in a ponytail
her eyes bright
as new coins
her pale blue dress
and white ankle socks
and brown sandals
she followed a butterfly
fluttering by
a Gatekeeper
she said
where?
you said
there that butterfly
it's called a Gatekeeper
you turned to watch
the butterfly
she had pointed to
as it fluttered off
down the field
stopping now and then
to land on flowers
I love butterflies
she said
how do you know
all their names?
you asked
I read Daddy's books
he has a number of books
on butterflies and moths
she said
she lay back
on the grass
and stared
at the sky
you lay down
beside her
your hands
behind your head
she smelt of lavender
you noticed
you breathed it in
let it fill within you
don't you read books?
she asked
turning to look at you
taking in your white shirt
and blue jeans
I'm reading a book on birds
you said
I bought it in town
the other week
that's a start
she said smiling
I guess so
you said
I didn't realize
there were so many kinds
she studied you
as you spoke
resting her head
on her hand
maybe we can go looking
for nests next year
when they begin
to nest again
she said
ok
you said
not to touch though
she said
just to look
birds don't like
their nests disturbed
in London
we only have sparrows
and pigeons
you said
how boring
she said
you watched
her lips moving
as she spoke
her eyes on you
studying you
I'm glad you're here
you said
glad to be here
she replied
she touched her fingers
to her lips
and blew you a kiss
and you did likewise
seeing a new world
in her deep dark eyes.
poem by Terry Collett
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Climbing With Jane.
Jane had climbed
the Downs with you
and had hardly spoken
on the tiring climb
along the dried up tracks
on the way up
and then at the top
standing beside you
she stared out across
the countryside
and said
you can see
where I live from here
and she pointed out
to the church down beneath
and you said
yes
and took in the church
and the house
where she lived
with the parson
and his wife
and tried to pick out
which bedroom was hers
and she said
I like it up here
away from the crowds
and nearer to God
and you studied her profile
and her hair
and the way she stood there
in that summer dress
and sandals
and with that youthfulness
and you wanted suddenly
to kiss her
and embrace her
but you didn't
you just stood
and studied her profile
and moving closer
you reached out
your hand
and touched hers
and her hand was warm
and as you squeezed it gently
you sensed the pulse of life
run through
and the moment
seemed to explode
in your head
in a myriad
of colours and sounds
and you rubbed your thumb
along her wrist
checking the pulse
the life
wanting her
to be the one
and pointing upward
she said breaking through
your dream
look at the colour
of that sky
and feel the warmth
of sun.
poem by Terry Collett
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Summer Rain Came Suddenly
Summer rain came suddenly
and you and she
had just got off the school bus
and had to run for shelter
and so entered the wood
and settled beneath some trees
which at least kept off
some of the rain
and as you both stood there
looking about the woodland
and listening to the rain
fighting its way through
the overhead branches and leaves
smelling the rain smell
hearing the sound
of rain falling
she said suddenly
That was unexpected
one minute the sun's shining
the next the downpour
and she turned
and looked at you
raindrops falling down
from her hair onto
the side of her nose
and sitting there
for a few moments
then sliding down
and moving along
her cheek
and you wiped
the drops off
with the end of your finger
and she took your finger
and mouthed it
and licked off the rain
and held your finger
in her hand
and said laughing
That was my raindropp
and you saw
how her lips parted
and in such a way
that you sensed
an inner explosion
of what you thought of
as love and said
Rain is rain
it's got its own smell
and touch
and feel
and she moved her lips
to your finger
and licked it once more
and you laughed
and felt your heart leap inside
and she said
releasing your finger
Love is love
something like rain
something you feel
and sense and know
and she kissed you and said
Mum' ll wonder where I am
we'd better go
and moving out
from beneath the trees
you ran off together
into the falling rain
all over again.
poem by Terry Collett
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I know that you really love me
You press my hand
against you chest
and I feel life,
pulsing through you
and your hand
is soft on mine.
The smell of your hair
goes through to my soul
and your breath
is hot in my neck,
while I draw you
deeper into my arms.
It’s nice to have you
right against me
while we are lying wedged up
and I feel a nipple,
coming alive
and become hard under my fingers.
There’s intenseness in our kisses
and my tongue
braids around yours
and your skin is soft
under my fingers
and I see sparks
in your golden green eyes.
The picture on the TV
takes its own route
and we are unaware of it,
while love and lust and passion
are steaming between us.
When you lie soft against me
and I disappear in the depths
of your golden eyes,
I know that you really love me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Country Scrumping
Your country cousin took you
Across a field to a vast orchard
Where low hung branches
Made the green apples within
Reach of your young boy’s hands.
Don’t eat too many of them
Or you’ll get gut ache, she said.
Your eyes had never seen so
Many apples, row after row
In long lines down the field and
Fields beyond. You picked an apple
And bit into it. They make cider
From these, she said, picking off
An apple too and biting with relish.
Your younger sister looked nervously
On wondering if she too should pick.
Go on, your cousin said, pick and eat.
Your sister reached up and pulled
And a few apples fell to the ground
With soft sounds of thump on the
Short grass. She picked up one and
Brushed it off on her dress. Have to
Run if the farmer comes, your cousin
Said, and don’t tell of this or we’ll be
For it. For what? Your sister asked.
Your cousin looked around and replied,
A good telling off or a good tanned ass.
You stood all three of you eating, beneath
The apple trees, in the short green grass.
poem by Terry Collett
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Beneath the Blue.
You both walked along
the narrow country lane
to the small church
and lay in the overgrown grass
in the churchyard
looking up
at the summer sky
and Jane said
It's so peaceful here
I feel as if part of me
were mixed
with the whole
of nature
you listened to her
looking at her
sideways on
seeing her profile
laying amidst
the green grass
her head facing
the blueness of sky
her hands resting
upon her breasts
with one leg straight
the other lifted upwards
with the knee bent
Do you feel that?
she asked
looking at you side wards
her eyes leaving the sky
and resting on you
Yes
you replied
but not thinking
of what she had
but of the beauty of her
and you being there
and taking note
of her eyes and hair
and moving lips
and hands at rest
and her soft youthful breast
and that glimpse
of thigh capturing
your eye
Yes
you repeated
I feel a part of that
feel almost drowned
in its beauty
and she turned
and you saw her smile
and heard birdsong
and felt the sun on skin
and the saw the expanse
of sky and clouds
white chariots moving
across the blue
and wanted that moment
for always and forever
and you reached out a hand
and touched her shoulder
and would had touched
and felt her more
had you been bolder
and she said
We lay here with the dead
but our bones and flesh
are filled with life and love
unlike theirs
wasted away
Yes
you whispered
feeling her bones
beneath the flesh
Just like us some day.
poem by Terry Collett
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Freedom Bound
Beneath my fingers I feel the smooth silky paper.
Somewhere within my head, a poem’s carefully strung.
Then one will be committed to join with the other,
When it has been carefully sprung.
Beneath my fingers I see the strong tough paper.
Somewhere within my head a poem’s shining through.
Then one will be exhibited, joined with the other,
Where they will be seen, shining new.
Beneath my fingers I hear the crisp firm paper.
Somewhere within my head a poem’s freedom bound.
When one will be entrusted to join with the other,
Then freedom will at last be found.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Closeness
your hand
entwined to my hand
your hair under my chin
your head resting on my chest
you smell my breath
there is no sound from your mouth
you close your eyes and see some trees
and ponds and waterfalls
and birds and clouds and flowers blooming
over a field of green grass
and butterflies and bees
the air you feel is as fresh as the scent of our skins
i caress your arms you let my hands go
you touch my face and then you look at me
we kiss and then we both melt
in paradise.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sick bed
The flue eats
my head and throat and body
and still you come and lie
close against me
and let your fingers
branch right through mine.
My throat burns
and I am scared
that you will also
get something
of this awful thing,
but without a worry
you kiss me
and I can feel life
pulsing on your soft hot lips.
Your fingers tickle the hairs
on my lip and chin
and there are teasing devils
dancing in your eyes,
while your fingers
creep to places
under my arms.
Like a child
I am given medicine
while I am already
much better,
in my soul and spirit
since you are with me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sick bed[2}
The flue eats
my head and throat and body
and still you come and lie
close against me
and let your fingers
branch right through mine.
My throat burns
and I am scared
that you will also
get something
of this awful thing,
but without a worry
you kiss me
and I can feel life
pulsing on your soft hot lips.
Your fingers tickle the hairs
on my lip and chin
and there are teasing devils
dancing in your eyes,
while your fingers
creep to places
under my arms.
Like a child
I am given medicine
while I am already
much better,
in my soul and spirit
since you are with me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Woman & A Man
I took a walk today
To where the ocean meets the sky
I thought about the way
They always say love never dies
And as the sun went down
I saw a lovers silhouette
A woman and a man
In a dance I envied them
I thought of you
I loved you so
I dont know why
I let you go
A woman and a man
A love so close
Walk hand in hand
While Im alone
A woman and a man
A love embrace
He turned his head
I saw his face
Could it be you
Yes, it was you
A woman and a man
I had to turn away
I hoped you wouldnt see me there
I thought about the way
You used to say I didnt care
And as you walked on by
I pulled my scarf across my face
And I began to cry
For all the love Id thrown away
But there you were
Like in a dream
You were with her
And not with me
A woman and a man
A love so close
Walk hand in hand
While Im alone
A woman and a man
A love embrace
He turned his head
I saw his face
Could it be you
Yes, it was you
A woman and a man
A woman and a man
A woman and a man
A woman and a man
We were so close. baby
Guess you never know
Just how precious love is
til youve had it and held it
And let it go
A woman and a man
A love so close
Walk hand in hand
While Im alone
A woman and a man
A love embrace
He turned his head
I saw his face
Could it be you
Yes, it was you
A woman and a man
A woman and a man
A woman and a man
A woman and a man
song performed by by Belinda Carlisle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mid Term Break
It was mid term break
from school and she met you
at the back of your house
down by the small pond
you both called the pool
where you could sit
and watch ducks swim
and birds sing
in nearby bushes
and she said
I've just read about some nuns
who wear clothing
when they bath
so that God
can't see them naked
a magpie flew by
and you noticed
how difficult it was
to tell
its wing from tail
and you said
Would God be interested
in seeing naked nuns?
she gazed over
at the trees
on the other side
of the pool
her blue eyes
catching sunlight
Well they obviously thought so
she said
and she lay back
on the grassy bank
and you lay beside her
and she put out a hand
and her fingers
touched yours
and you lifted up
her hand and kissed it
and it tasted of soap
as if you'd dived
into her bathwater
and swam
between her thighs
How sweet you are
she said as you let
her hand go
and she held it
and looked at it
then a blackbird
swooped across the pool
noisily and broke
the momentarily magic
and she said laughing
You don't know
where my hand
may have been
and you taking in
the sunlight dancing
in her big blue eyes
Maybe not
you replied
not telling her
what
in your dream
you'd seen.
poem by Terry Collett
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Her Beautifulness.
There's an empty cottage
at the end of this lane
Jane said
and there's a large apple tree
in the garden
and no one goes there
so maybe we can look
through the windows
and see what's there
sounds good
you said
and she smiled at you
in her shy manner
and brushed her fingers
through her long black hair
and breathed in
the summer air
and there were birds
flying overhead
and a small brook
running along side
the lane
and you felt happy
being there with her
looking at her profile
at the way her eyes
looked about her
and her flowered summer dress
she said her mother made
and the way she swayed
her hips as she walked
and you sensed her nearness
her just being there
just a fingertip away
and when you came
to the empty cottage
she ran ahead and peered
through the windows
and you came along beside her
and looked through the glass
at the emptiness within
and she said
let's see if the doors are locked
and she ran to the door
and pushed but it was locked
and she said
just a chance we could have gone in
and pretended it was ours
and imagined where
we could have put our furniture
and we could have gone up the stairs
and looked out and pretended
it was our bedroom
and we had just married
and then she was silent
and you stood behind her
and touched her arm
and said
let's go pick some apples
and you can pretend
you're going to cook
an apple-pie
for our dinner instead
and she smiled
and gently pressed her lips
on your cheek
a small wet warmness
entered you
and oh
you thought
as she ran to the tree
that she would always be here
just the summer sun
and she in her beautifulness
and 13 year old me.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Apple Orchard
A sunny afternoon, with blanket spread,
Beneath some apple trees, with ample shade,
We'd sit with tray of tea and gingerbread,
Scones with cream, and these were freshly homemade.
Apples hung above us, each ripe and red,
So colourful, they somehow set the scene.
Sampling strawberry jam on thin sliced shortbread,
We'd lay and watch the leaves, with sun between.
Peaceful lazy days were these, and so free,
Whiling away hours, with paint and book,
Our orchard, where under a favoured tree,
We'd relish Peter Pan and Captain Hook.
Those rosy apples, that we'd all consume,
And savour juicy flesh so soft and sweet,
Eating them until we had no more room,
Those halcyon days were to us a treat.
Dappled sunshine sparkled amids the boughs,
And danced on, with a gentle pleasing sway,
Oh What I would give to again just browse,
In that apple orchard, for one more day.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Polly strips His bed
Polly strips back the sheets
where Master George has lain.
She folds the white sheets and
lays them on a chair. She lies
her head on the pillow where
his head has been. She sniffs
and smells him. Closing her eyes
she imagines she's there beside
him and he has her in his arms,
his lips against her flushed cheek.
She imagines they are in bed
together when dawn's light breaks
through the shutters and Susie
the other maid enters and wide
eyed she mouths a huge round O.
She opens her eyes; the pillow
is vacant beside her head, just
a small indentation where he had
laid his head the night before.
She fingers into the pocket of her
white apron a few black hairs she's
discovered on the white pillowcase.
She strips off the pillowcases and
puts them with the sheets. The bed
is now stripped of all coverings
and is left to air. She imagines as
she stands that he is still there,
laid out unclothed, skin all bare.
But in reality she knows he has
gone of to war as he has before.
She hopes he will return alive
and in one piece; no missing
limps or blind or gassed as some
have been she's read; but most of all
she dreads him laid out cold and damp
in some foreign field lying still and dead.
poem by Terry Collett
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While Posing.
Mr Clementon says to sit
and wait and pose and you
sit as told and watch as he
prepares the easel and sorts
his brushes and paints and
all the while he sings in a soft
humming undertone his focus
on his task and not at all on you
and you watch and see how slim
his fingers are and not at all like
most men’s fingers are and his
hands are white and his face now
turned to you is shaved clean and
unblemished like a baby’s skin
and you think how soft it must
be to be close to him and sense
his flesh on yours and try and keep
your head still Molly he says firmly
bringing you down to earth and
drawing you from your thoughts
I need you to sit still and not move
unless I say and he begins and his
eyes move from you to the canvas
and back to you again and outside
the window the beginning of rain.
poem by Terry Collett
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Magic of Love
Morning sunlight touched my face
And wind blew touched my soul,
I remember someone has
Who been special to mine
Wish I could be in his land
I hear his laughter.
Through the wave of the sea,
I feel his love
Every time I close my eyes
Wish, I could be in his arms.
I see his eyes starring at me,
I feel his heart beat as mine
Wish I could be on his side.
To feel his warm embrace
and surround him with my face.
I spread my wings and fly.
Just like Butterflies in the sky,
I gave my heart and my soul
I held my hand for him to hold
To be with him is like a dream.
I just close my eyes,
And now I can see him,
I m his princess and he is my king
Dance together in a wonderland.
To the tune of magic of love.
poem by Cheryl Aldea
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That Summer That Love
The summer sun
warmed you and Jane
as you made your way
up the dried up
muddy track
towards the Downs
the sunlight
pouring through
the branches of trees
overhead
you thinking
of your work
on the farm below
the day before
the weighing of the milk
the clearing out
of cowsheds
and the cowman saying
what do you want to do
when you leave school?
to be a cowman
you replied
you want to get yourself
a proper job
you don't want to do this
for a living
and Jane said
breaking you
from your thoughts
I want to show you
where I used to sit on the Downs
and where I used to collect
bones and skeletons of rabbits
and moles and birds
and you turned
and looked at her
as she walked beside you
her hands swinging
as she walked
her black hair tied
in a small bun
at the back
and her yellowy flowered dress
capturing your eyes
my father works in the woods
further along
you said
he works in the ditches
and hedgerows too
she bent down
and plucked a flower
that's Squinancywort
she said
showing you the flower
as she twirled it
between fingers
she offered it to you to smell
lovely isn't it?
you nodded
and carried the scent
with you as you both
moved on up the track
she turned to you and said
your dad does well
at his work for a townie
and you smiled
and so did she
and you captured
her lips parting
and her bright white teeth
and her eyes
moving over you
like a soft caress
and she whispered
turning her head away
do you love me?
and you whispered
yes.
poem by Terry Collett
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I Was There
She grasped my fingers so tightly
as she took slow deep breaths.
A feeling of inadequacy came over me,
while she endured the pain and stress.
I couldn't believe her fortitude
as my fingers turned ghostly white.
Her courage never faltered for a moment,
and she remained a beautiful sight.
During a respite she eased on my fingers,
as I wiped the beads from her brow.
Her eye watering smile said more in that instant
than could be spoken at any hour.
Once more she pressured my fingers,
as the ordeal quickly resumed.
Timing and breathing were now essential
with more movement from the womb.
The time was now perfect for the delivery,
as instructions were called to push.
Then stop… then push once again,
then a head with a hand, and swoosh.
What a remarkable, beautiful baby,
my feet weren't touching the ground.
Mother and baby were truly incredible,
and I was there for every sight and sound.
poem by Orlando Belo
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