En.Citatepedia^®.ro

What Others May Think.

Apart from the water tower
and the farm

and a few scattered cottages
there were no other buildings

for a mile or more
just you and Jane

and birds in the early morning sky
I like it at this time of day

she said
I like the fresh smell of nature

and the farm
and having few people about

you walked beside her down the lane
that led away from the farm

you noticed how her black hair
seemed freshly washed

and blew slightly in the mild wind
does you father mind

you being out with me?
you asked softly

he doesn't know
she replied

he thinks I came out alone
for a morning walk

why didn't you tell him?
you asked

he was busy writing his Sunday sermon
and it was easier to just go out

and not disturb him
she said looking around at you

her eyes studying you
as she walked on down the lane

would he mind you being with me?
you asked

I don't think he knows you as yet
seeing as you have only moved here

a few months and don't come
to the church

you stopped and took her hand in yours
it was warm and soft

and pulsed with life
she looked at your hand

holding hers and she rubbed
her thumb over the back

of your hand
you wanted to kiss her lips

or cheek just to feel
her flesh on yours

but you didn't you just looked at her
and waited to see

what she would do next
she let go of your hand

and looked around her
there might be people looking

from those cottages up there
she said suddenly pointing up

at the rising bank which went up
to two cottages high up

if they see us they may tell Father
and then it would be awkward

and he might suspect things
and then she went quiet

and looked at the running stream
by the lane

but we haven't done anything
we just walk out and talk

and hold hands now and then
it's not what we do

it's what others think we do
she said softly

and stood looking at you
waiting for you to speak

but you said nothing
just leaned in close to her

and kissed her cheek
and said

even Christ permitted kisses
even the one from Judas

and she smiled
and the early morning sun

pushed through trees
and shone on her hair

and there was the sound of birds
singing in the air.

poem by Terry Collett
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A Matter of Trust on a Summer's Day

Jane's mother said
she was up by the church
and so you went up

the path leading
to the church of St Mary
and there she was

laying some flowers
on a gravestone
she looked up

as you approached
and smiled
your mother told me

you were here
you said
I think Mother

must like you
she wouldn't
have told you

otherwise
Jane said
getting up

from the graveside
and brushing her hands
on her summery dress

who are the flowers for?
you asked
looking at the flowers

placed in a small jar
on the grave
a parishioner

we used to know
who used to like
this type of flower

oh I see
you said
looking at the graves around

and the Downs further back
and the trees nearby
where did you want to go?

you asked
how about a walk to Cocking?
we can do some shopping

while we're there
and enjoy each other's
company in the process

is it far? you asked
a mile or so
she replied

ok
you said
and you followed her

down the path
and along the lane
to her house

and you waited outside
while she went inside
after a few minutes

her mother came out
with her and said
it's very good of you

to go with Jane
all that way
I wouldn't like her

to go alone
that's all right
you said

and she smiled
and went in side
and Jane said

see she trusts you
not many boys
around here

she'd say that to
oh right
you said

looking at
her dark hair
and her eyes

gazing at you
and her hand
holding a shopping bag

and her lips
breaking into a smile
come on

she said and
so she took
your hand

and you walked
along the lane
keeping close

to the hedgerow
the sun warm
and the sky blue

and you sensed a joy
of it being
just her and you.

poem by Terry Collett
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As You Walked One Summer's Day.

These lanes are very narrow
you said
walking with Jane

from the parsonage
where she lived
to where the farm road began

Are they?
she replied
I've never thought about it

just that the hedges are high
and the birds chock full
in them and their songs

Yes
you said
They are

and in London
there are no hedges
or narrow lanes

and the only birds
are sparrows
and pigeons

and you wanted
to take hold
of her hand

and squeeze gently
the flesh
and sense her pulse

but you didn't
you put your hands
in your jean pockets

and gazed sideways on
at her and her dark hair
and her profile

and the scent of her
like lavender
as if she'd dived

into a wide field of it
and embraced
the flowers and stalks

What bird song is that?
she asked
No idea

you replied
moving closer to her
the scent getting stronger

the desire to be closer
taking hold but still at bay
It's a blackbird

she said
You'll learn them all
the birdsongs

and where and how
they nest and in what months
and you nodded

and saw how
the summery dress
moved and swayed

as she walked
the flowered pattern
like a field moved

by a soft breeze
and her sandaled feet
touching the gravelled lane

and you thinking
how it would be
for them to be held

and kissed by you
if she were beside you
lying in a field

or in one
of those tall woods
and you pursed your lips

and she looked up at the sky
her eyes gathering
the blueness

and whiteness of clouds
and she said
Monet would have captured that so well

and You
you muttered
He would capture you well

each aspect
of your face
and hair and eyes

and she smiled
and looked at you and said
I'd want to be captured by Renoir

have his arthritic fingers
clutching brush
and capture me

and maybe secretly
lust after me
and she blushed

and turned away
and you thought
Oh yes yes yes

but said nothing
just gazed
and breathed in

her being
her beauty
all there

for you to view
the eyes
the hair

the profile
the way her lips smiled
and sway of walk

and the tall hedges
seemed to explode
with the wild bird's talk.

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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Jane and You and the Hollow Tree.

Jane waited for you
by the narrow road
that led to Linch farm

the water tower visible
against the afternoon sky
of pale blue and white

cold clouds
she was dressed
in a grey coat

and her dark hair
was pinned back
with grips

you noticed
blueness
about her lips

the cold taking toll
wasn't sure
if you would show

she said
the coldness
and such

I said I would
and I say
what I mean

you replied
once you were close to her
she took her hands

out of the coat pockets
and linked her arm
through yours

where shall we go?
she asked
you know it better

around here than I do
you choose
you said

let's go up
the dust track
to the hollow tree

on the way up
to the Downs
she said

ok
you said
and so you walked along

and up the dust track
side by side
and she talked

of the wintery trees
and what birds
there were still about

and how she liked
spring best with the coming
of flowers and birds nesting

and you listened
looking at her
as she spoke

watching her lips move
how when she spoke
her white teeth showed

and now and then
her tongue would show
and it reminded you

of that kiss she gave you
up by Diddling church
as you stood looking

at the grave stones
and she gazed at you
and then kissed

and her tongue
touched yours
and it was like heaven

as if someone
had opened up
your heart

and stuck
their tongue in there
and as you thought

about that kiss
she talked of some girl
of a cowman

who'd got pregnant
and how did that happen?
she asked

and you said nothing
but listened on
and then you reached

the hollow tree
and climbed inside
and sat down

looking out
of the hole
in the side

and it felt cosy
in there
like a small home

and she leaned
in against you
and there was silence

and you looked at her
at her eyes
and hair

and how her lips
were parted
and her white teeth

showed and her tongue
waiting to speak
and you wondered

about that kiss again
and whether
it would happen this time

there in the hollow tree
out of sight
of others

and she showed you
tucked between
her small breasts

a small locket
which used to be
her mother's.

poem by Terry Collett
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Matter Of Beauty

That's Speedwell
and that's Red Sorrel

Jane said
pointing out

the wildflowers
as you both walked

down the lane
that led to the empty cottage

with apples trees
in the garden

and gooseberry bushes
in fruit by hedges

They all look the same to me
you said

Just flowers growing
she shook her head

and smiled and said
You townies

do you know nothing
of nature's beauty?

I'm looking at beauty now
you replied

and as you both walked on
down the lane

she in her summery dress
and you in your

open neck shirt
and faded jeans

you felt the morning sun
touching your head

like a fond mother
and the smell of flowers

and sound of birds
and she said

after a minute
or so of silence

Father says beauty
is only skin deep

real beauty lies
in a person's soul

if that soul is not blemished
by sin that is

and you looked at her
hand by her side

swinging as she walked
and the fingers curled

as if she held
something invisible

yet ready to throw
and you took in

her white ankle socks
above her brown sandals

and the calves of her legs
and her thighs

just showing
as the dress moved

and you breathed in deep
like one immersed

in water about to drown
of love or the feeling of such

and you said
I guess he's right

but I love the beauty
of skin pretty much

and she laughed
and her laughter

shooed off birds
from the tree tops around

who probably never heard
such a beautiful sound.

poem by Terry Collett
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Judith and her Thoughts on Death

That Sunday
after singing
in the choir
and changing
from the blue

and white gowns
and out
of the dim lit vestry
into the sunlight
at the back

of the church
Judith was standing
by a gravestone
reading the almost
indecipherable words

chiselled there
sad isn't it
she said
that these people died
and are buried

and then the time comes
when you can't read
who died or when?
you walked over
to where she was standing

and rubbed off
some of the green moss
with your hand
comes to us all
I guess

you said
when those whom we loved
or cared about die
and after we and those
who knew them are gone

there is no one left to care
who's buried there
she looked at you
and you saw
her eyes water

and her lower lip tremble
you won't forget me
will you? she asked
course not
you said

anyway
why are we getting
so darn morbid?
we're alive
let's live while we can

she walked away
from the gravestone
and stood looking
around the graves
behind the church

the sunlight
warming the stone
and her head
and you walked
next to her

and put your hand
on hers and said
I'll never forget you
if you go before me
she smiled

and looked at you
I'll always remember you
she said
other choir members
came out of the vestry door

and there was talk
and laughter
and Roger chased Shirley
along the path
and she looked back at him

giggling and making faces
and Judith said
some have no respect
for the dead
even in this

their resting place
human all too human
you said
and kissed her
sun blessed face.

poem by Terry Collett
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Fay and You and The Fading Bruise

Fay met you
at the bus stop
on the New Kent Road
she was dressed

in the lemon coloured dress
you liked
and her hair
was pulled tight

into a ponytail
where are you going?
she asked
to the Globe

you said
what Shakespeare's Globe?
she asked
no the fleapit cinema

at Camberwell Green
you replied
oh
she said

I've never been there
my daddy doesn't like
me going to cinemas
he says they're

dens of sin
she looked at you
as if you would confirm
her father's words

well it's certainly a den
you stated
but whether its
of sin I don't know

she looked puzzled
and touched
her ponytail
with her hand

are you coming along?
you asked
she looked about
as if her father

might be behind her
should I?
she asked
do you want to?

yes
she replied
then let's go
but I haven't any money

she said
I have enough
you said
my Mother gave me money

for chores I did
oh I see
she muttered
and she bit her lip

what would my daddy say
if he saw me?
he won't
how can you be so sure?

trust me
you said
fathers know little
of what their kids do

she smiled
if you think so
she said
sure I do

besides it'll
do you good
you said
giving her a smile

and then the bus came
and you both got on
and sat next
to each other

and you paid
the bus conductor
the fare
and as the bus

moved off
you both swayed
to the motion
of the bus

her arm touching yours
the fading bruise
on her flesh
a mixture of yellow

and brown
and blue
but you said nothing
besides you thought

if her old man
beats her
what the hell
can I do?

poem by Terry Collett
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Cedric's Message.

Cedric approached you
in the playground and said
My sister Christina

wants to see you
on the playing field lunchtime
and he said it

in a quiet voice
as if he didn't want
the other boys to hear

he ran messages for girls
and off he went
to play with some other boys

leaving you to stare out
onto the empty playing field
and so lunch time

after you'd eaten dinner
you went onto the playing field
beneath the summer sun

and there she was
over by the wire fence
waiting for you

and you said
Cedric said you wanted to see me
and she said

Yes do you mind
if we walk off alone together
I don't want other's ears

to move in on our conversation
No sure
you said

Let's go over by the woods
by the far fence
and so you walked off with her

across the playing field
by other kids who were playing
football or sitting talking

or playing skip rope
or whatever
and when you came

to the woods
you sat down with her
and she said

You do love me
don't you?
I mean you're not

seeing anyone else?
You looked across
the playing field

to where you'd sat
with another
some months before

and she had asked
the same question
but since then

it had turned
momentarily sour
Yes and no

you said
looking back at her
taking in her dark hair

and deep eyes
and how her hand
lay on her thigh

covered by grey skirt
and her naked knees
just visible

to the eye
What do you mean
yes and no?

she asked
you watched
her lips move

and replied
Yes I love you
and no I'm not

seeing another
and she smiled at you
and put her hand on yours

and waited for a kiss
and so you did
her lips on yours

out by the woods
on that summer day
out of doors.

poem by Terry Collett
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A Girl From Nowhere

The electric blue of a lightning sky
lit up the country lane momentarily.
She walked alone
with her scarf blowing in the wind
and her clothes soaked from the light rain.
But who was she and where was she?
She did not know.
Her eyes scanned everything
looking for something she recognised.
There was nothing there and she kept walking.

A crack of thunder startled her.
She jumped and looked around.
Lights of a car lit up the hedgerows
as it raced towards her.
She moved to one side
to allow it to pass.
The driver braked abruptly
along side of her.
The passenger window
wound itself down.
The driver smiled
out from the interior of the car.

“Are you all right miss? ”
The voice was low and warm.
She felt immediately
that she could trust it.
She looked in with large innocent eyes.
“Can you help me?
I cannot remember who I am or where I am.
The passenger door swung open.
“I think you had better get in.”

Cautiously she moved towards the car.
She climbed onto the passenger seat
and closed the door.
She glanced across
at her Good Samaritan.
“Thank you.” She whispered
as the car purred and moved forwards.
“There is a Police Station
about five miles ahead.
I will take you there;
they should be able to help you.”

She looked at him
as the car raced through
the quickly darkening lane.
“Haven’t you got a handbag? ”
He asked glancing across at her.
“Handbag? What is that? ”
“Where you keep your personal possessions in.”
She looked at him with a questioning look;
it was as if he was talking a strange language.
“My name is Jim Middleton.”
He said in his low warm voice.

She looked at him again
as the hedge rows disappeared
and streetlights and buildings
began to appear.
Scattered at first,
then more and more
as they moved into the town.
He stopped outside the Police Station.
He smiled. “We are here.”
Switching off the engine, he opened the door
and walked around the car.
He opened the door
to escort her into the station.
He stood mouth opened.
She was not there.

poem by David Harris
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Fay and You and the Ruler.

Fay met you
on your way home
from school
standing by the entrance

of Meadow Row
she was in her school uniform
a satchel
over a shoulder

how was school?
she asked
boring and the day
too long

you replied
but at least
you can learn things
she said

like how
to make a candle
holder in woodwork?
finding some river

in India
I'll never see?
you said
she smiled shyly

well maybe you will
she said
how are you?
you asked

ok
she replied
got told off
by Sister Bernard

for not having a ruler
what did you do
with your ruler?
you asked

lost it
she said
ah well
there you are

you said
naughty naughty
she walked on
down Meadow Row

and you walked
beside her
actually
she said quietly

my daddy took it
she stood still
and stared at you
he beat me

with it
she said
in a whisper
you looked

into her eyes
and saw your
reflection there
two yous

staring back
why?
you asked
taking in her paleness

her fair hair tied
in a ponytail
he said l hadn't done
my jobs properly

jobs?
you asked
around the house
helping my mum

and did you? help?
yes usually
but I forgot
this time

big crime
you said
won't he give
the ruler back?

no
she said
he said he will keep it
as a lesson to me

can't you buy
a new one?
you asked
I haven't any money

she said
you can have
one of mine
you said

I have plenty at home
can I borrow one?
you can have one
she smiled weakly

her eyes lit up
and she took one
of your hands
and held it

I'll have to hide it though
she said
or he'll take
that one too

quite a guy your dad
you said
she looked away
at the bombed out houses

on the left hand side
you saw her hurt
and sadness
some things you can't hide.

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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Jane and Bullfinch Eggs

Those are Bullfinch's eggs
Jane said
pointing at
the 5 eggs

in a nest
hidden in a hedge
and as she pointed
you imagined

that some god
modelled all female fingers
on that before you
how the nail was set

so perfectly
on the finger's tip
the colour pinkish white
the skin almost blending in

we mustn't disturb
she added
or the mother bird
will fly away

and not return
oh right
you said
gazing at the eggs

once her finger
had been removed
from the hedge
you studied

the pale blue eggs
speckled there
and sensed her presence
near your cheek

the lavender
that she wore
the way her hair dark
coming to her shoulders

was tied back
from her face
some collect them
Jane said

and pierce the top
and bottom
and blow through the contents
and have them on display

do they?
you said
seeing the sad expression
she wore

why is that?
you asked
she stood back
from the hedgerow

and looking at you
with her dark eyes
said
because they must have

they have to collect
what is there
for all to see
they must just have

for themselves alone
the May sun
was shining warm
and she took your hand

in hers and walked
you on along the lane
the small stream running
by the lane's edge

her grey skirt
and white blouse
and white socks
giving her a plain look

but her eyes lit up
and she smiled again
and you wanted
at that moment

as she held your hand
for that hour
to be there forever
not to be lost

thinking you knew then
the depth of love
and not its loss
of that

and feeling sense
and not the cost.

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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Destruction And Salvation

The buildings were collapsing all around
People screaming then falling down
Than not making a sound.
(I smiled)
The ground started opening up
And people falling in.
(I smiled)
The sea waters overflowed on the land
Bringing destruction, mud, and sand.
(I smiled)
The skies turned completely black
And the sounds of the lightning’s cracked.
(I smiled)

A man stopped me and asked:
Why do you smile when the world
around you is falling down?

I responded: I smile because the lord walks
by my side, and fills my heart and soul.
I grabbed his hands- “ and he smiled”
Let me walk with you, for I also felt him too.

We walked hand in hand through this barren land.
Other people stopped and asked the same question.
Then took our hands and joined us too.
The salvation of the world was coming true.
Faith, hope, love, was following thru.

As the people joined and held hands
The destruction began to cease.
And in peoples hearts
They found relief and peace.

When they looked there were thousands
Holding each others hands
For this was - part of gods plan.

poem by Louis Rams
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A Question of Love.

After climbing off
the school bus
she grabbed the sleeve

of your coat and said
I want to talk to you
and so you stayed behind

as your sister and hers
walked on ahead
and her brothers ran off

in a game of tag
she released your sleeve
and brushed the hair

out of her eyes
what is it? you asked
walking beside her

along the side of the road
the winter afternoon darkening
what was Roland

saying to you in class?
she asked
Roland?

yes Roland
in the last lesson of maths?
you looked over

at the tall trees
becoming tall giants
as the sky began to dim

he was talking about his sister
you said
then why was he looking at me?

perhaps he finds you attractive
you replied
she slapped your arm

with her hand
don't talk nonsense
he wouldn't find

Marilyn Monroe attractive
if she sat
on his bony knees

she said looking at you
with her big blue eyes
you rubbed

your injured arm
playfully
he was saying his sister

had found his collection
of dirty magazines under his bed
you said

a car whizzed by
and she turned
and shouted back at it

some words her mother
would have slapped her
for saying

she sighed and said
why can't you tell me the truth?
you stopped and stood facing her

her blue eyes gazing at you
searching yours
as if she'd left something there

on a previous occasion
he said he didn't know
what I saw in you

her eyes enlarged
and what did you say?
she asked

in the sky over her shoulder
the moon was beginning to shine
in competition

with the weak sun
I said you snogged
pretty good

you said
she slapped your arm
and walked on

no
you called out
I was only joking

she stopped
and turned
and glared at you

I said you were the best thing
to happen to me
since God created Sundays

you're lying
she said
all right

you said
seeing her eyes watering
I said I loved you

you said
looking at her
wondering if her hand

might slap you again
did you?
yes

and what did he say?
she asked
he just shrugged

his shoulders
and drew a picture
of Mr Parrot on the corner

of his maths book
she was silent
and looked by you

at the incoming traffic
then kissed your cheek
leaving a damp patch

like a small oasis
on a dry landscape
of your 14 year old skin

conjuring up images
her mother
would define as sin.

poem by Terry Collett
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Juniors Farm

You should have seen me with the pocker man,
I had a honey and I bet a grand,
Just in the nick of time I looked at his hand.
I was talking to an eskimo,
Said he was hopping for a fall of snow,
When up popped a sea lion ready to go.
Lets go, lets go, lets go, lets go
Down to juniors farm where I want to lay low,
Low life, high life, oh, lets go,
Take me down to juniors farm.
At te houses of parliament
Evrybodys talking bout the president,
We all chip in for a bag of cement.
Olly hardy should have had more sense,
He bought a gee-gee and he jumped the fence,
All for the sake of a couple of pence.
I took my bag into a grocers store,
The price is higher than the time before,
Old mand asked me why is it more.
I said you should have seen me with the poker man,
I had a honey and I bet a grand,
Just in the nick of time I looked at his hand.
Lets go, lets go, lets go, lets go
Down to juniors farm where I want to lay low,
Low life, high life, oh, lets go,
Take me down to juniors farm,
Lets go, lets go, down to juniors farm where I want to lay low.
Low life, high life, oh, lets go,
Take me down to juniors farm
Evrybody tag along.
Take me down to juniors farm

song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bombed Out Butcher's Shop.

On the third day
of the holidays
you met Janice

half way up Bath Terrace
at the entrance to the flats
where she lived with her gran

she was dressed in her red beret
yellow flowered cotton dress
white socks and brown sandals

she smiled when she saw you
and said
feared you might not show

I told you I'd be here
you said
she looked at you

and said
I know
but some people say things

but don't show
I'm not some people
if I say I'll be here

I'll be here
you said
glad you're here

she said
Gran doesn't like me
going out alone

she says there are strange men
out there who take kids off
and do things to them

and murder them
yes
you said

I read about that boy
they found murdered
near here

she looked concerned
don't worry
you're with me

my mum told me
where to kick them
if they try anything on

oh
Janice said as you both
walked up to the top

of the terrace
to Harper Road
where're we going?

she asked
a bombed out
butcher's shop

you replied
isn't that dangerous?
she asked

not if we're careful
where we tread
you said

isn't that breaking
and entering?
she asked

no we don't break in
you said
we walk in

the back gate
it's not locked
oh

she said
looking concerned
we won't get into trouble

will we? Gran said
she'd tan my backside
if I got into trouble

would I get you into trouble?
you asked
guess not

she said softly
you crossed
Harper Road

and went round the back
of the bombed out
butcher's shop

and opened the gate
and entered
into an empty yard

you shut the gate
after you
and she stood gaping

at the back of the shop
you showed her
the large walk in freezer

where meat had once
been kept
now empty

smelling of piss
and damp
what if you got locked in?

she said
the lock's busted
you said

oh I see
she replied
her eyes large

and her mouth open
in wonder
you took her into

the shop now empty
apart from a large table
with a marble top

where meat
had once been cut
and chopped up

it stinks
she said
yes tramps get in

sometime and shelter
for the night
are they here now?

she asked nervously
no they go off
in the day

you said
giving her
a smile

you took her up
the creaking stairs
to the upper landing

where the sky
shone through the roof
where a bomb

had fallen in
gosh
she said

how weird
one of the rooms
had an old bed frame

pushed in a corner
and the roof
was still there

except where a few tiles
had gone
someone slept there once

she said
and now
they're probably dead

you took her hand
and walked her
to the window

and looked out
on Harper Road
people would have looked out

of this window too
you said
sad isn't it

she said
and you sensed
her lay

on your shoulder
her fair haired
red bereted head.

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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And You Don’t Remember Me

I sat on the park bench
pen and notebook in hand.
I watched all the people
as they passed on by.
I wondered how in life
each one of them had fared
with their happiness
and their sorrows.
I looked for inspiration
for something to write.

She looked at me and smiled,
I smiled back
thinking that was that.
“You don’t remember me? ”
She said and sat down.
I looked at her again
as memories swirled
around in my mind.
She was right
I didn’t remember her

Her hair was mousey colour
with flecks of grey
starting to appear here and there.
There were thick lines
across her forehead,
crow feet lines
near the corners of her eyes.
The corners of her mouth
drooped just slightly.

Her blues eyes were striking
and I knew I had seen them before,
but they were with a younger face
a long time ago.
A face that lit up
whenever she spoke.
“You still don’t remember me? ”
She asked once again.

I shook my head,
but unfortunately, I did.
I could remember
all the beauty
she had had in her youth,
before time had ravaged her
and taken away her beauty
and her youth.
She looked so sad.

I wanted to reach out
like I always wanted to,
but something deep inside,
a little voice you could call it,
kept telling me no.
My urge to hold her
was trying to win out,
but I couldn’t do it.
She was no longer
a part of my life.

All she was now
was a memory I clung to,
a memory of my youth
so long, long ago.
With notebook and pen,
I smiled and bit her farewell.
I whispered her name
as I said a last goodbye.
I didn’t look back
or I would have looked back with regret.
She was a past,
something none of us can ever relive.

poem by David Harris
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Helen and You and The ABC Cinema

In the evening after tea
of bread and jam
and a glass of milk
you went out

and met Helen
under the railway bridge
in Rockingham Street
next to the Duke

of Wellington pub
and she was waiting
there looking up
and down the street

and when she saw you
she waved and walked
towards you
where's your doll

Battered Betty?
you asked
mum's washing her clothes
and I didn't want

to bring her out
with nothing on
she said
no that wouldn't be decent

you said
where are we going?
she asked
I want to show you

the passages behind
the ABC cinema
you said
it's like a cavern

of dark passages
and once I saw a rat
running along by a wall
oh god

she said
putting a hand
to her mouth
not a rat

yes it run along
one of the walls
not sure
I want to go there

she said softly
one little rat
isn't going to hurt you
you said

besides I'll chase it away
if it comes
will you?
she said

yes of course I will
nothing is going to harm you
while I am here
you said

you showed her
the toy gun
tucked in
the inside pocket

of your jacket
she nodded
and she took
your hand

and you walked her
along and up behind
the Trocodero cinema
and onto

the New Kent Road
and you crossed quickly
before the traffic lights changed
and once you got

to the other side
you took her
to the ABC cinema
and went down beside

the cinema walls
along the dark passages
that went on beside
and behind the cinema

all the time
she gripped your hand
and now and then
her grip tightened

when she thought
she saw something
out of the corner
of her eye

what was that?
she said
stopping still
clutching your hand tight

just a piece of paper
blown by the wind
are you sure?
yes just paper

she untightened
her grip
and you both
walked on

with the sound
of traffic and voices
in the distance
and at the back

of the cinema
you came to an entrance
where two doors where
and you said

sometimes the doors are open
and you can sneak in free
she looked at you
her eyes behind

her thick lens glasses
large and innocent
is that allowed?
she asked

no
you replied
if they catch you
you get into trouble

but if you're lucky
you can get in
no trouble
you said

oh
she said
my mum wouldn't like it
if I got into trouble

we won't get in tonight
anyway
you said
the doors are locked

another time maybe
and she gripped
your hand
and her face looked shocked.

poem by Terry Collett
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