The Magdalene Laundries
I was an unmarried girl
I'd just turned twenty-seven
When they sent me to the sisters
For the way men looked at me
Branded as a jezebel
I knew I was not bound for Heaven
I'd be cast in shame
Into the Magdalene laundries
Most girls come here pregnant
Some by their own fathers
Bridget got that belly
By her parish priest
We're trying to get things white as snow
All of us woe-begotten-daughters
In the streaming stains
Of the Magdalene laundries
Prostitutes and destitutes
And temptresses like me--
Fallen women--
Sentenced into dreamless drudgery ...
Why do they call this heartless place
Our Lady of Charity?
Oh charity!
These bloodless brides of Jesus
If they had just once glimpsed their groom
Then they'd know, and they'd drop the stones
Concealed behind their rosaries
They wilt the grass they walk upon
They leech the light out of a room
They'd like to drive us down the drain
At the Magdalene laundries
Peg O'Connell died today
She was a cheeky girl
A flirt
They just stuffed her in a hole!
Surely to God you'd think at least some bells should ring!
One day I'm going to die here too
And they'll plant me in the dirt
Like some lame bulb
That never blooms come any spring
Not any spring
No, not any spring
Not any spring
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Magdalene Laundries
I was an unmarried girl
Id just turned twenty-seven
When they sent me to the sisters
For the way men looked at me
Branded as a jezebel
I knew I was not bound for heaven
Id be cast in shame
Into the magdalene laundries
Most girls come here pregnant
Some by their own fathers
Bridget got that belly
By her parish priest
Were trying to get things white as snow
All of us woe-begotten-daughters
In the streaming stains
Of the magdalene laundries
Prostitutes and destitutes
And temptresses like me--
Fallen women--
Sentenced into dreamless drudgery ...
Why do they call this heartless place
Our lady of charity?
Oh charity!
These bloodless brides of jesus
If they had just once glimpsed their groom
Then theyd know, and theyd drop the stones
Concealed behind their rosaries
They wilt the grass they walk upon
They leech the light out of a room
Theyd like to drive us down the drain
At the magdalene laundries
Peg oconnell died today
She was a cheeky girl
A flirt
They just stuffed her in a hole!
Surely to God youd think at least some bells should ring!
One day Im going to die here too
And theyll plant me in the dirt
Like some lame bulb
That never blooms come any spring
Not any spring
No, not any spring
Not any spring
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Magdalene
Magdalene, are you thinking of the gentle man
Who turned your life around
Magdalene. did he leave you any reason to go on
Magdalene, does it make it any better
That you know he really loved you
Magdalene, all your sins have been forgiven, and hes gone.
Magdalene, did he give you back the freedom
To be something you believe in
Magdalene, are you strong enough to make it on your own
Magdalene, I believe he loved you deeper
Than you ever dreamed of loving
Magdalene, and nobody ever left you so alone.
Oh, magdalene ...
Magdalene, are the shadows in the stillness
Of the evening full of tears
Do you wonder how much sorrow you can hold
Are you haunted by the ghost of something
Gone but not forgotten
Will it fill the empty silence when youre old.
Magdalene, are you thinking of the gentle man
Who turned your life around
Magdalene. did he leave you any reason to go on
Magdalene, I believe he loved you deeper
Than you ever dreamed of loving
Magdalene, all your sins have been forgiven, and hes gone.
song performed by by Kris Kristofferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kick
Hey, Miss Magdalene girl sympathy mind hey, Miss Magdalene girl power. Power off, yeah grant a flesh show meek inherit nothing but death song queen sex go-go moving like a bad dream promised so long ago blessed art thou among women is this easy come is this easy go mingled with fear you get what you wish, wish, wish, wish, wish Gabriel get out this is my Nazareth wicked joy trembling town wicked joy be a raging machine chosen worthy to explode a king a king, king, king, king, king, king, king, king drilling down deep inside heartache tests the pain girls on the bar swing around danger does the same Magdalene, Magdalene, Magdalene, Magdalene peace grants suspicious crashing like some animals southern terror claws scream
song performed by by White Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Magdalene
I, I know Im a dreamer
Its easy to see I want to be a believer
And fly right through the air
Now Im wide awake
I want you to take me there
The things that you told me
I dont know if I was dreaming
And dreams arent enough
Life is so lonely
I need someone to believe in
Are you in love?
Cant you see thats everything to me
Thats enough
Magdalene, let me hear it said so I am sure
Answer me -- cant you see thats all Im waitin for?
Here I am on my knees once more
Magdalene
Time must lead you somewhere
I dont want to wait
I know you can take me there
The way that you hold me
I dont know if I was dreaming
And dreams arent enough
Life is so lonely
I need someone to believe in
Someone to love
Cant you see thats everything to me
Thats enough
Magdalene let me hear it said so I am sure
Answer me -- cant you see thats all Im waiting for?
Here I am on my knees
Oh, Im begging you please
Magdalene
Magdalene...
Magdalene...
Magdalene...
(scholz-foulke-sikes)
song performed by by Boston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New Spring
Spring!
Spring! How beautiful is the
Spring! How wonderful is the
Spring! How majestic is the
Spring! How fantastic is the
Spring! How tantalizing is the
Spring! How glorious is the
Spring! How melodious is the
Spring! How joyful is the
Spring! How breathtaking is the
Spring! How uplifting the
Spring! How happy is the
Spring! How magnificent is the
Spring! How colorful is the
Spring! How tasteful is the
Spring! How memorable was the
Spring! How flavorful is the
Spring! How aromic is the
Spring! How sweet is
Spring! How beautiful is the
Spring!
poem by Mario Saboundjian
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Spring Did Come.
Spring did come,
On butterfly's wings.
On a flitting bird,
And the song it sings.
Spring did come,
When the flowers bloomed,
When it filled the air
With a sweet purfume.
Spring did come,
On the morning's breeze.
Spring did come,
On budding leaves.
Spring did come,
On blades of dew.
Spring did come,
In skies of blue.
Spring did come,
With a joyous ring.
Spring did come...
Welcome, Spring!
poem by Macy Dvirnak
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The Winter's Spring
The winter comes; I walk alone,
I want no bird to sing;
To those who keep their hearts their own
The winter is the spring.
No flowers to please--no bees to hum--
The coming spring's already come.
I never want the Christmas rose
To come before its time;
The seasons, each as God bestows,
Are simple and sublime.
I love to see the snowstorm hing;
'Tis but the winter garb of spring.
I never want the grass to bloom:
The snowstorm's best in white.
I love to see the tempest come
And love its piercing light.
The dazzled eyes that love to cling
O'er snow-white meadows sees the spring.
I love the snow, the crumpling snow
That hangs on everything,
It covers everything below
Like white dove's brooding wing,
A landscape to the aching sight,
A vast expanse of dazzling light.
It is the foliage of the woods
That winters bring--the dress,
White Easter of the year in bud,
That makes the winter Spring.
The frost and snow his posies bring,
Nature's white spurts of the spring.
poem by John Clare
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Their Hearts Were Full Of Spring
Theres a story told of a very gentle boy
And the girl who wore his ring
Through the wintery snow
The world they knew was one
For their hearts were full of spring
As the days grew old
And the nights passed into time
And the weeks and years took wind
Gentle boy, tender girl
Their love remained still young
For their hearts were full of spring
Then one day they died
And their graves were side by side
On a hill where robins sing
And they say violets
Grow there the whole year round
For their hearts were full of spring
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Magdalene and the Beatles's First LP
Magdalene watched Mary
bend down to put on the LP.
The Beatles. They'd saved
up and bought it together.
She took in Mary's stockinged
thigh showing through the slit
in the side of the school skirt.
Mary placed the LP carefully
onto the turntable, with her finger
put the needle arm down onto
the vinyl. The music started up,
Mary stood up and sat next to
Magdalene on the single bed.
Magdalene sensed her there,
her thigh next to hers, her
warmth, their knees almost
touching. What did your Ma
say when you said you bought
the Beatles? Magdalene asked.
She said nowt, Mary replied,
but Da said it was a load of
shite and where did I get
the money from to buy it?
John Lennon's voice sang
over the twanging guitars.
Magdalene said, did you
tell him we bought it together?
Mary nodded. Her hands
pushed between her thighs,
her young face lit up by
the room's light. Don't you
think Paul's a dish? Mary asked.
Magdalene shrugged her
shoulders, studied Mary's
knee where a spot of flesh
showed through a hole in
the black school stockings.
She wanted to move closer,
kiss the cheek, place her
lips on the skin. She breathed
in the borrowed scent that
Mary wore. Said she'd liberated
it from her Ma's room. Mary
talked of the boy they'd met
in the woods above the school.
Tried it on so he did, she said,
over the guitars and Lennon's
loud voice. Magdalene wished
she could put her hands where
the boy had tried. I put him
straight, Mary said, kneed him
where his fatherhood might flow.
Mary moved up and down on
the bed in response to the music.
The bedsprings complained.
Magdalene sensed the movement,
took in Mary's behind going up
and down on the bed cover.
Glory be. She wanted to kiss.
Needed the hand to touch Mary's,
the skin to join up with hers.
Downstairs a voice bellowed
to keep the bloody noise down.
Mary sighed and bent down
to turn the knob the thigh
revealed in the skirt's slit,
the spot of flesh through
the hole in the bended knee.
Magdalene captured the image.
Hid it in her memory bank for
later, for bedtime, for the cosy
pretend hold, maybe more if in
her dream she was lucky and bold.
poem by Terry Collett
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Once again the spring has come
Once again the spring has come
and all around blooms,
our faces are wreathed with smiles.
The spring is working wonders
with the entire world
kindling the hearts by springtime thunders.
The spring has brought the warmth,
there is no more colds;
the snow has thawed in our souls;
the teardrops have melted down
and ran away in the Vernal waters,
starlings become the reporters of spring,
our souls bloom together with spring,
our hearts feel like to sing
and the dropping snow do dings.
No one feels perfectly at ease
with the tenderness of springtime breeze.
Our Mother nature promises new things;
new hopes, new dreams it brings.
Once again the spring has come,
flying in the sky like a swallow
inviting us to follow it's flight,
to see the land from the birds-eye view,
to show us how far the spring flew.
Once again the spring has come
to serve our hearts and nature,
to renew everything in our world,
to be in use for a new adventure.
Spring, spring, spring!
The kingdom of immortality!
It comes to show us world's beauty
and wisdom of humans mentality.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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A Country Path in Late Spring
The path of mossy ground nestled
In between maternal hedgerows,
That overgrew atop, dimming down
The brilliance of the day.
Embosomed, a calm-cool vision –
Abstract takes of nature, in
Leaf-spattered green shades;
Stem-speckled brown hues;
Shards of sunlight percolating
Through the random flaws to
Up glittering sprites upon the leaves.
And avian chatter bounced along the burrow,
Smattered by the crosstalk
Of busybody insects;
But outside the green comfort zone,
Other worlds of other sounds of other life
Otherwise gave a hint of
Other dozy goings on.
Hawthorn filled the air,
Filled the nose,
Filled the head –
Pungency had overpowered all –
Gave the late-spring-early-summer haze.
Here and there a break of colour:
Odd bluebells – escapees from nearby woods –
Blue-blushing bell faces glancing down,
Aware of their erectness in the stem;
The flaming wing of red admirals
Broke through a hedge hole to
Break up the calm backdrop,
While flitting blue tits gave
To greater-bodied animation.
Nature’s warm narration –
The undertones of life.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Spring Fever
(words & music by giant - baum - kaye)
A little bird, he told me so
He said come on, get on the go
Open your eyes the sky is full of butterflies
The blossoms on the trees stir up the honey bees
Spring makes my fever right
Spring fever, spring is here at last
Spring fever, my hearts beating fast
Get up, get out spring is everywhere
Well if you feel the wanderlust
Just grab a car or hop a bus
In every town theres excitement to be found
So much is happening
Dont miss the joy of spring
The worlds in love just look around
Spring fever comes to everyone
Spring fever, its time for fun
Get up, get out spring is everywhere
Spring fever, its spring fever time
Spring fever, watch that fever climb
Get up, get out spring is everywhere
Spring is everywhere
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Ascending To My Father
I have fallen upon my knees heavily; God cast
me down, before entering this holy sacred spot;
the Garden of Gethsemane, in the Kidron valley;
among those ancient olive trees I pondered
upon my pilgrimage way, their twisted arms their
gnarled trunks, witnessed Jesus pass this way;
blood my Lord sweated here in fear in agony
his prayers to heaven, to his father were carried;
but the bitter cup he bore, could be not removed.
I have walked upon the sacred Via Dolorosa
where Christ carried our bloody cross, chastised
first, by his whipped tortured stripes, we are healed. 1 Peter 2: 24.
I have walked upon the Hill of Calvary Golgotha
where the New Testament describes Jesus, crucified
entered, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, venerated.
Here once many women viewed the crucifixion
from a distance, here by the Cross, three Marys’ stood
Christ’s mother, her sister Mary and Mary Magdalene. John 19: 25.
Here the sepulchre the Church of the Resurrection
acclaimed to be the site, of the resurrection, of Jesus
here while weeping, Mary Magdalene, stooped forward
looked into the memorial tomb and she viewed
two angels in white sitting one at the head
and one at the feet where the body of Jesus had
been lying. And the angels said to her: “Woman,
why are you weeping? ” She said to the angels:
“They have taken my Lord away, and I do not know
where they have taken him.” After saying these things,
she turned and viewed Jesus standing, ....
Jesus said to her: “Stop clinging to me. For I have not yet
ascended to the Father. But be on your way to my brothers
and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and YOUR
Father and to my God and Your God.’ ” Christ had risen. John 20: 11-18.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Another Spring
If I might see another Spring
I'd not plant summer flowers and wait:
I'd have my crocuses at once
My leafless pink mezereons,
My chill-veined snow-drops, choicer yet
My white or azure violet,
Leaf-nested primrose; anything
To blow at once, not late.
If I might see another Spring
I'd listen to the daylight birds
That build their nests and pair and sing,
Nor wait for mateless nightingale;
I'd listen to the lusty herds,
The ewes with lambs as white as snow,
I'd find out music in the hail
And all the winds that blow.
If I might see another Spring -
Oh stinging comment on my past
That all my past results in ‘if’ -
If I might see another Spring
I'd laugh today, today is brief
I would not wait for anything:
I'd use today that cannot last,
Be glad today and sing.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Longing For Spring
Once a day and sometimes more
I look out my day dream door
To see if spring is out there yet
I'm really anxious, but mustn't fret.
I see the snow a melting down
and lots of mud and slush around
I know the grass will surely sprout
and birds and flowers will come about.
But why oh why does it take so long?
I'm sure the calendar can't be wrong.
Sunshine fills my heart with cheer
I wish that spring were really here.
Soon mother nature will sound the alarm
Wake up! get dressed, turn on your charm
Winter's gloom has gone its way
It's Spring! It's Spring! Oh Happy Day!
poem by Edna T. Helberg
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Spring
In spring
The tender leaves spring
And release the coiled mind to spring
And fling
The thing
That till then did wring.
In spring
The little birds sing
And sling the depressed mind to swing
And bring
Bells of joy
To ring and cling.
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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The Season Of Spring
THE SEASON OF SPRING
the season of spring
weather seems to sing
lovely lovely days
are coming our ways
the season of spring
blooming blossoming
of nature of all kind
let roots unbind
the season of spring
birds unfold their wings
diving high into sky
wish one could fly
the season of spring
careful hearts love sting
reaching out towards others
some persons might bother
the season of spring
nice sound bells ring
new wave new style
faces have on a smile
the season of spring
an new awakening
busy humanity on earth
as if it’s a new birth
listen listen to my words
the season of spring is near
now a look into your lovely eyes
and one can see spring is already here
poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
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A Song Of Spring
The Spring comes slowly up this way,
Slowly, slowly,
Under a snood of hodden grey.
The black and white for her array,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
Where is her green that was so gay?
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
Unto a world too sick for May,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
Where are the lads that used to play?
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
She has no heart for holiday,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
The trees are out in Heaven they say.
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up our way.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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An Early Day in May
May soothed
– sensual breeze caressing.
Snug, she cooed in floral chroma;
Gave artistic license – dressing up
Pubescent fields, teenage woods,
Jaded lanes; embellishing
Craggy watersides.
Warmth was kind – sun tempered,
Lifting life; erecting bluebell swathes
For good measure: late-spring treasure.
At hill’s base
A mirrored lake, brooding,
Bathed in halcyon haze –
Yet hectic life scurried,
Spurred on by procreational drive,
To see it all survived another year.
Back home, garden tulips flared,
Thrust aloft on rigid stems, and
Under day-time brilliance,
Open goblets, clustered,
Sought out heavenly guidance –
Lauding hallowed Tulipa gods.
May is Nature’s intermission –
Bridging April’s go-ahead
With hothead June.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
s pring spring spring spring spring spring
spring spring spring spring spring spring
spring spring spring spring spring spring
spring spring spring spring spring spring
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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A Spring Piece Left In The Middle
Taut, thick fingers punch
the teeth of my typewriter.
Three words are down on paper
in capitals:
SPRING
SPRING
SPRING...
And me -- poet, proofreader,
the man who's forced to read
two thousand bad lines
every day
for two liras--
why,
since spring
has come, am I
still sitting here
like a ragged
black chair?
My head puts on its cap by itself,
I fly out of the printer's,
I'm on the street.
The lead dirt of the composing room
on my face,
seventy-five cents in my pocket.
SPRING IN THE AIR...
In the barbershops
they're powdering
the sallow cheeks
of the pariah of Publishers Row.
And in the store windows
three-color bookcovers
flash like sunstruck mirrors.
But me,
I don't have even a book of ABC's
that lives on this street
and carries my name on its door!
But what the hell...
I don't look back,
the lead dirt of the composing room
on my face,
seventy-five cents in my pocket,
SPRING IN THE AIR...
*
The piece got left in the middle.
It rained and swamped the lines.
But oh! what I would have written...
The starving writer sitting on his three-thousand-page
three-volume manuscript
wouldn't stare at the window of the kebab joint
but with his shining eyes would take
the Armenian bookseller's dark plump daughter by storm...
The sea would start smelling sweet.
Spring would rear up
like a sweating red mare
and, leaping onto its bare back,
I'd ride it
into the water.
Then
my typewriter would follow me
every step of the way.
I'd say:
"Oh, don't do it!
Leave me alone for an hour..."
then
my head-my hair failing out--
would shout into the distance:
"I AM IN LOVE..."
*
I'm twenty-seven,
she's seventeen.
"Blind Cupid,
lame Cupid,
both blind and lame Cupid
said, Love this girl,"
I was going to write;
I couldn't say it
but still can!
But if
it rained,
if the lines I wrote got swamped,
if I have twenty-five cents left in my pocket,
what the hell...
Hey, spring is here spring is here spring
spring is here!
My blood is budding inside me!
20 and 21 April 1929
Trans. by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk (1993)
poem by Nazim Hikmet
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