Unexpected Father.
Your mother
had brought Helen
home for tea after school
and she had held on
to the handle
of the pram
your mother pushed
and you walked
along side
thinking of whether
to show her
your toy soldiers
and cowboys and Indians
and the guns
that fired
loud banging caps
or whether to just sit
and watch the TV
and eat your tea
and show her nothing
but once you got home
and your mother went off
to the kitchen to prepare
the tea stuff and such
Helen looked at you
and shyly smiled
and said
Can I see your sister's dolls
and pram
and does she have
a doll's house
I could play with?
you dismissed the idea
of showing her
the guns that fired caps
or your toy soldier collection
and took her
into the room
where you kept the toys
and pointed to
your sister's dolls
and the pram
and said
Take care
my sister doesn't like
people messing
with her stuff
and Helen nodded
and picked up a doll
and held it to her chest
and rocked it
to and fro
and walked up and down
murmuring there there sounds
that echoed softly
around the room
Where's your sister?
Helen asked
will she mind me
rocking the baby to sleep?
Guess not
you replied
and stood watching her
as she walked
and talked to the doll
in an undertone
and you stood there
hands in pockets
like a father
of an unexpected child
wondering what to say
or do and taking in
her thick lens glasses
and her eyes
seemingly enlarged
focusing on the doll
and the way her head
moved from side to side
so that her plaited hair
went from side to side
and up and down
and she said softly
and suddenly
We may have a baby like this
one day and you had better
say something more
than you are now
or I'll think
you didn't want it
and off she walked
up and down the room
and hoped your mother
would come soon
and save you from the fate
of being the father
of a doll with a dodgy eye
and a painted smile
but having a tender spot
for Helen
all the while.
poem by Terry Collett
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Related quotes
At Helen's for Tea.
After school
Helen's mother took you home to tea
and she was wheeling
the big pram along the pavement
with you on one side
and Helen on the other
and she said
hold onto the pram
while we cross the roads
I don't want anything
to happen to you
and as you crossed
the busy roads
you kept glancing over
at Helen with her plaited hair
parted in the middle
and her thin wired glasses
and her raincoat
buttoned tight
against the wind
and her small hand
clutching the pram handle tightly
and beside you
Helen's mother
short and stocky
pushing and puffing
and her eyes dark as night
and kind at the same time
and when you reached their home
and went inside
and she took off your coat
you went with Helen
into the sitting room
with a coal fire blazing
and the smell
of drying clothes
and past dinners
and Helen said
do you want to see my dolls
and the doll's house
my daddy made
out of boxwood
with lights you can turn off and on?
sure ok
you said
and you followed her
into her bedroom
where her toys and dolls
were laid up along the wall
next to her bed
and she took up a doll
and held her out to you
and said
this is my favourite
this is Jenny
and you said
hi Jenny how you doing?
and Helen smiled
her slightly goofy smile
and you liked that
her smile
and her eyes large as duck eggs
behind the thick lens
and she handed the doll
to you to hold
and you held the doll
and kissed the head
and hugged it close
thinking glad the other boys
can't see me now
here with this girl
and kissing and holding
the darn doll
out of some small boy love
and shyness
and you know
they'd laugh out loud
and point their tough boy fingers
and you're glad
they aren't there
just Helen
and her little girl love and kindness
against their rough ways
and small boy toughness.
poem by Terry Collett
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Showing Dolls
And Mrs Clark said
why doesn’t your son
come to tea
I’m sure Helen
would like that
she can show him
her collection of dolls
and your mother said
yes that would be nice
I’m sure he’d like that
and Helen peered at you
through her spectacles
her pupils like
two brown fish
in a glass bowl
and she smiled
one of those smiles
which frighten small boys
and Mrs Clark said
yes and you can come too
and your mother nodded
and off they went
into one of their
long conversations
and as they talked
Mrs Clark rocked the pram
with her youngest kid
wrapped up inside
and your mother stood
with you by her side
with the creeping dread
riding up in you
of tea looming
and Helen standing there
her plaits on either side
of her head
going back and forth
as she moved her head
and Mrs. Clark laughed
and the pram shook
and the kid cried
and she rocked the pram
backward and forward
and all you
could think about
was the dolls
and the baked beans
on toast
and Helen showing you
her dolls
as she had before
and taking
a secret kiss
behind a closed door.
poem by Terry Collett
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Helen and You and Six Pence Worth of Chips.
When Helen heard
that Pete Badam
had poked your guts
she said
why'd he do that?
I scored
a home goal
you replied
so? what's that
got to do
with anything?
she said
he caught me
off guard
you said
I'll get him back
no
she said
don't go down
to his level
she gave her doll
Battered Betty
a hug
I don‘t want
our children
to have a father
who's fighting
all the time
she added
gazing at you
through her
thick lens glasses
no worry
you said
Dave Walker
got Badam
in the guts afterwards
Helen looked at you
horrified
what is it with boys?
fight fight fight
she put Battered Betty
over her shoulder
and patted her back
and walked along
the pavement outside
the ABC cinema
you watched her go
back and forth
the doll moving
over her shoulder
Helen's blue
cardigan and dress
was lit up
by the lights
from the cinema
and reflected
in her glasses
I didn't ask Walker
to hit him
you said
he just poked him
in the guts
and walked off
Helen paused her pacing
and looked at you
the doll brought down
into her arms
I don't want
a violent husband
she said softly
I want you
as you are
that's fine
you said
but that's
another time
and tomorrow
as we're only just nine
and she walked
with you
to the chip shop
in the New Kent Road
to buy six penny's
worth of chips
and a kiss
on your cheek
from her lips.
poem by Terry Collett
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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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Growing Up Before Time
You stood outside
the ABC cinema
with Helen looking
at the framed photographs
of the stills
from the film
then showing
she clutching her doll
Battered Betty
you standing there
pointing out
the main characters
my old man said
he'd take me
to see this
on Saturday
you said
Helen rocked Betty
in her arms
I hope our child
doesn't call you
old man
she said
maybe he won't
you replied
it might be a she
Helen said
sure it might
you said
you gave Betty a look
as she hung there
in Helen's arms
you looked back
at the photo stills
putting your hands
in the pockets
of your jeans
maybe
you can take me
to the cinema
when we are older
Helen said
and we can sit
at the back
like those grown ups do
and kiss
you sensed her hand
touch your arm
and rub it up
and down
Betty moving
as Helen's arm moved
sure
you said
long as I can still see
the movie
Helen handed you Betty
and you took
your hands out
of your pockets
and held her gingerly
like she might go
crap on you
and Helen put
a hand in her pocket
and pulled out
a few coins
I might have enough
here for some fries
she said
ok
you replied
and you walked
beside Helen
along the New Kent Road
to the Neptune's fish shop
holding Battered Betty
carefully against
your cowboy shirt
the one your mother
bought you
for your birthday
the year before
Helen talked
of children's names
and you thought
of the Wild West
and cowboy games.
poem by Terry Collett
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After School Tea.
Mother said
you were to go back
to Mrs Clark's house
for tea after school
and she would pick
you up later
after work
and so when
the bell went
for the end
of the school day
you went with Mrs Clark
and her daughter Helen
for tea and Mrs Clark
talked all the way
to her house
her words rough
as hewn stones
going over your head
to which you just nodded
or shook your head
and when you arrived
at the house
which smelt
of past dinners
and washing drying
and the baby's nappies
she said
What would you like for tea?
Bread and butter
bread jam
bread and Bovril
or dripping?
and how about
a large mug of tea?
Helen said
I'm having bread and jam
and a mug of tea
why don't you too?
you said
Yes that will be fine
and shyly sat in a chair
by the window
looking out
at the backyard
where washing hung
on a clothesline
and an old doll's pram
sat rusting by a wall
and Helen came
and sat next to you
in her grey skirt
and off white blouse
and swung her legs
back and forth
under the chair
her white ankle socks
and black scuffed shoes
coming in
and going out
of view
and she said
After tea
I'll show you my dolls
and the doll's house
my daddy made
out of orange boxes
and as Mrs Clark
made the tea
you sensed Helen's small hand
run along your arm
which set alarm bells ringing
in your head
and a sweating in your palm.
poem by Terry Collett
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Helen and You and a Bag of Chips
After school
after tea
of bread and jam
a mug of tea
and a slice of cake
you met Helen
under the railway bridge
in Rockingham Street
and she was holding
Battered Betty her doll
in her arms
and she said
Betty wanted to come
she gets lonely
stuck at home
ok
you said
as long as she's quiet
and doesn't cry
all the time
she won't
Helen said
does your mum know
you're out?
you asked
of course
Helen replied
but she said
not to be late
or come home
in the dark
you'll be safe
I've got my six-shooter
with me
you said
tapping the toy gun
tucked in the belt
of your jeans
I told Mum
I was with you
and she said ok
I don't think
she'd let me out
otherwise
a train clattered
over the bridge
over head
let's go
you said
and the three of you
walked up and along by
the Trocadero cinema
she talking about
Battered Betty's day
and what Carmody
had said at school
and how he smelt
of B.O. and cabbages
you watched the people
passing along
the New Kent Road
a constant stream
passing back
and forth
and still Helen talked
as you walked
Carmody's just a fink
you said
take no notice
what he says
and she clutched your hand
with her free hand
not clutching the doll
and you both ran
across the road
and stood outside
the Odeon cinema
gazing at the still photos
in the frames
of what film was showing inside
don't fancy that
you said
too much kissing
and women crying
and boring men
what's wrong with kissing?
Helen asked
better than men
shooting guns
or riding horses
over yellow deserts
making women cry
you looked at her
with her large eyes
behind her thick lens glasses
watery as lakes
and her brown hair
plaited into two plaits
sure
you said
how about a bag of chips?
she nodded then said
I've got no money
don't worry my dad
gave me 6d
for polishing his shoes
the other day
you said
ok
she said
and you walked down
towards the Neptune fish shop
and asked for 6d of chips
and the man
with the one eye
scooped chips
into a bag
and you gave him
the money
and Helen sprinkled
salt and vinegar over them
and you both went outside
and stood together
and shared the bag of chips
and each chip tasted
hot and salty
and warmed your insides
and Helen kissed your cheek
with her greasy warm lips
and said
thank you for these
and you said
no problem
anything to please
and you felt
the damp kiss
there on your cheek
and you smiled
to yourself
thinking
I won't wash that off
for a week.
poem by Terry Collett
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Young Traitor
Gran said
you can come with us
to the fair
Janice said
Provided your mum agrees
of course but Gran's
already asked your mum
so it's all right
you stood outside
the school gates
waiting for your mother
to come and pick you up
and so you said
Oh right that'll be good
but you didn't want Helen
to know you were going
to the fair with Janice
and even though
you hadn't planned it
or asked for it
you still felt guilty
about going
with Janice to the fair
and when Helen
came out of school
and stood waiting
next to you
for her mother
you hoped Janice
wouldn't say
anything about it
but Janice just stood there
smiling looking at Helen
as if to say he's going with me
to the fair and you're not
and Helen gazed at Janice
at the same time
putting her hand
near yours
and you could feel
her hand brush
against yours
and then she turned
and looked at you
through her
thick lens glasses
her eyes searching you
like a navigator
looking for a fresh route
to a new world
and Janice moved closer
on your other side
her hand seeking out
a finger to hold
and she said
Look here comes Gran
and she released
your finger and ran
and you stood with Helen
waiting
knowing her hand
was warm and feeling yours
and hoping she couldn't
read minds
or thoughts
or know about the fair
and she said suddenly
giving your hand a squeeze
Here's your mum and mine
let's go meet them
and off you ran
following behind
feeling a sense of betrayal
being a traitor to Helen
in your 7 year old mind.
poem by Terry Collett
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Outside the Cinema.
After tea
you went out
into the summer evening
without cowboy hat
or rifle
but your six shooter
tucked in the belt
of your jeans
to meet Helen
under the railway bridge
next to the Duke of Wellington
public house
I thought you weren't coming
Helen said
standing in her summer dress
and holding her favourite doll
Battered Betty
my horse refused to come
so I had to walk
you said
Helen smiled
my mum knows I'm with you
but I mustn't be out late
Helen said
where shall we go?
you asked
let's go and see
what's on at the cinema
Helen said
so you both walked
along the back streets
until you came
onto the main road
and studied the cinema billboards
I saw Davy Crockett here
you said
who's he?
Helen asked
he was a frontiersman
who fought Indians
and wore a bearskin hat
you said
was he here?
Helen asked
it was a film
you replied
oh
she said
she swung Battered Betty
behind her back
from hand to hand
I haven't been
to the pictures recently
mum said we can't afford it
what about Saturday matinee?
you asked
you could come to that
it's for kids only
and it's fun
Helen brought Battered Betty
into her arms
I'm not sure
she said
I could asked your mum
you said
I'd take care of you
I've got my six shooter
Helen put her hand
in your hand
and said
ok she'd listen to you
Helen said
you felt her hand in yours
and hoped no boys
who knew you
saw this or
the following
small lips kiss.
poem by Terry Collett
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Helen
As I walked towards helens house
I was thinking of her, her long pretty black hair
Her beatiful shiny eyes, and above
All, her humane personality which
Has endeered me to her the most
Her life is an epitome of all I wanted
I think of her the most
And she is my only aspiration
I am now here, right here with Helen
I want to ask her what she did to me
I am loosing my mind, I am thinking of her and I can think of nothing else
What has she done to me?
I used to be very ambitious.
Now all my aspirations are being
Replaced by helen
All I want now is Helen and Helen
There is nothing on my mind but Helen
I want her by my side for the rest of my life.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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Funny Fake Doll
As a kid I made a fake “me” doll,
she was like me but not too tall.
I sewed her up with bathroom towels,
she was original and had no jowls.
Practical joke I did make,
with Funny Doll that was fake.
I put fake doll in my bed,
covered the blankets over dolls head.
Then my sister went to sleep,
I told her from far away,
I was sleeping “Please don’t make a peep? ”
My sister said, “Are you alright?
you look very sick looking tonight.”
I replied, with a yell, ha! Ha!
Then I ran to room laughing like hell.
My sister got scared, and then she laughed,
It was very funny, it was a blast.
These funny childhood memories are the ones that last.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 9,2011
www.christinasunrise.com www.suzaechevalier.com
www.purplepoems.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Prettier Than Helen.
Janice you thought
prettier than Helen
more refined
whose voice
was softly spoken
as if her words
had been fresh baked
in an oven
in her mouth
and her hair fair
and well groomed
but Helen had
that down to earthiness
that brought her
closer to you
and something about
her thin framed
thick lens glasses
made her seem
more lovable
to your boyish world
and she stared at you
through them
and smiled
that shy smile
and said things
with a rough edge
as if she'd bounced
the words around
before she uttered them aloud
you can come to tea
and we'll have bread and jam
and a big mug of tea
or if mum's remembered
lemonade
she said at playtime
in the playground
out of hear shot
of the other boys
who kicked ball
or who swapped cards
or threw marbles
along the ground
or fought battles
with imaginary swords
or shot pretend bullets
from rat-a-tat guns
and she said
to entice you more
you can see my new doll
my dad brought back
from the store
ok
you said
sure
and she smiled
and her nose creased up
and her glasses moved
and some small place
in your chest thumped
like furniture being dropped
or a bed being bounced
in some small hotel
and you watched her
go off to play skip rope
that thin framed
thick lens glasses
working-class
school girl.
poem by Terry Collett
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I can remember being in my pram: children stayed in their prams much longer then than they do now. A big bouncy pram with black covers and a hood with metal clips that could trap your fingers. I was looking up at my sister who was sitting on the pram seat, with her back to me.
quote by Helen Dunmore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After School Walk
After lessons at junior school
coming down the bricks stairs
Helen said
can I walk home with you?
Sure
you replied
and she set off with you
along St George's Road
the traffic and smoke fumes
setting the scene
she in her school frock
and cardigan
and white ankle socks
beside you in your grey jacket
and grey short trousers
and she said
I don't usually walk home alone
but mum said I can walk home
with you save her coming along
to the school with the other kids
and pram with baby
you took in
her two plaits of hair
and thin framed glasses
with large lens
which made her eyes
larger than they were
her small hands
by her side
a small school bag
over her shoulder
and did you know
Janice likes you?
Her grandmother
told my mother
the other day
after school
but I like you better
do you like me?
she asked
you noticed
she had small white teeth
with a thin brace
along the top
sure I do
you replied
I like Janice too
but you I like more
and she smiled
and put her right hand
in yours and squeezed it
and you smiled
but hoped none
of the other boys around
noticed the hand holding
after all a tough boy
has a reputation to maintain
and as you squeezed
her hand back
clouds darkened
and it started
to piss with rain.
poem by Terry Collett
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Her Mother Doesn't Know.
Rosina's baby sister died.
The cot stood empty
in the darkened room.
Don't go in there
her mother said.
Rosina opened the door
and peered through
the gap instead.
The toys were still there
by the pink pillow and cover.
Leave the room alone
said her grieving mother.
Moonlight shone upon
the place where baby sister
once turned her face
and smiled or made
her baby noise.
Quiet now the room.
Unplayed with
the idle toys.
Mother cried at night
and often in the day
and stared through
the window at the far off bay.
Father was away
in some distant war
keeping his head down
in some foreign land.
Rosina's baby sister
was buried deep
beneath the ground
in a small white coffin
dressed in a ghostly shroud
with songs sung sadly
and tears in the crowd.
Rosina peered through
the gap of the door
at the cot
and moonlight's glow.
She's seen her baby sister's
ghostly smile
but mother doesn't know.
poem by Terry Collett
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Helen and You and the Bombed Out Factory
Ought we to go in there?
Helen asked
as you both stood outside
the bombed out factory
off Rockingham Street
sure we should
you said
but it's got
STAY OUT signs
on the big doors
she said
you looked at her
with her thick lens glasses
and her hair tied in plaits
nibbling her finger in anxiety
come on in
you said
nothing will happen to you
while you're with me
she didn't look convinced
what if someone sees us?
she asked
no one cares around here
kids are always going
on bombsites
you said
she looked around
her eyes seemingly larger
than they were
are you sure?
she said
yes now come on
and you took
her small hand
and pulled her through
a small opening
in the side
where other kids
had made an entrance
she a pulled face
on the other side
of the gate
and rubbed her arm
where a line of blood showed
look
she said
I've scratched myself
you dabbed at it
with a grey handkerchief
and spittle and she watched
as you cleared up
the line of blood
will it be all right?
yes
you said
it'll be fine
and you walked on
across the yard
and into the bombed out factory by
a door hanging
on its hinges
and into the dark interior
she stood by the entrance inside
and took in the semi darkness
it's frightening
she said
no one is here
you said
how do you know?
she asked
it's too quiet
you said
she leaned closer to you
and grabbed your arm
what was that?
she whispered
a rat probably
what? she said
a rat
you said
let's go out
she said
nothing will hurt you
while I'm here
and you patted
the toy gun
in the belt
of your jeans
she looked at you
then out
into the semi darkness
you walked in
and up the stone stairs
by a wall
and she followed
her breathing
becoming louder
as you walked up
once at the top
and along a landing
you came to a small office
where the door was missing
and there was a hole
in the roof where a bomb
had blown it off
as well as other parts
of the building
you stood
looking around
the room
where rain had rotted
what furniture remained
and on the floor
were books soaked
and rotting
Helen said
can we go now?
you looked up
through the hole
in the roof
and there
was the afternoon sun
and a white cloud
moving slowly across
a blue sky
and she moved
next to you
and kissed your cheek
but you didn't know why.
poem by Terry Collett
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Sister Lisa's Surprise
As a kid I made a fake "me" doll,
she was like me but not too tall.
I sewed her up with bathroom towels,
she was original and had no jowls.
Practical joke I did make,
with Funny Doll that was fake.
I put fake doll in my bed,
covered the blankets over dolls head.
Then my sister went to sleep,
I told her from far away,
I was sleeping "Please don't make a peep? "
My sister said, "Are you alright?
you look very sick looking tonight."
I replied, with a yell, ha! Ha!
Then I ran to room laughing like hell.
My sister got scared, and then she laughed,
It was very funny, it was a blast.
These funny childhood memories are the ones that last.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 9,2011
www.christinasunrise.com www.suzae.com
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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On His Father's Side
On his mother’s side
Born in Bethlehem
On his Father’s side
No one before him
On his mother’s side
Growing and learning
On his Father’s side
All knowledge showing
On his mother’s side
Stuck in one location
On his Father’s side
Present in every nation
On his mother’s side
He was hungry
On his Father’s side
The multitudes he did feed
On his mother’s side
At Calvary he died
On his Father’s side
He was the essence of life
On his mother’s side
Buried like other men
On his Father’s side
He rose again
On his mother’s side
Human and weak
On his Father’s side
The God of eternity.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Small Little Rag Doll
The small little rag doll
Made with love
Each stitch sown
By tender loving hands
Places under the tree
Wrapped in Xmas cheer
The little rag doll
A waits to be held
Small young hands
Rips wrappers apart
And smile with delight
At the little rag doll
The gingham dress
The Goldie lock hair
And sown on smile
Make a small child gasp
At a beautiful sight
Loving she holds
The little rag doll
And makes her a bed
In her make believe world
Her mother look’s on
With pride and Joy
That her little baby girl
Loves her little rag doll.
poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Baby Doll
Girl of my dreams she dont love me
Always the way it seems to be
My baby doll
Light of my life she turns it on
Over my head not close enough
My baby doll
Baby doll
You look so good
Baby doll
You feel so big
Baby doll
You let me have it
Why did you do it baby doll
Quick-tempered queen knows what she wants
And what I got is what its not
My baby doll
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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