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Kat  Jan 2012
Raggedy Ann
Kat Jan 2012
people never care
but always say they do
everyone thinks about themselves
their priorities racked up on shelves
I'm on the ground
sounds echoing around my lifeless figure
like poor raggedy ann
i cannot stand

i'm motionless and lie there
robotic expression, stitched smile that's fixed
but my emotions are mixed
their erosion eluding to my mind's disintegration
the segregation between mind and body
so pronounced.
thoughts constantly bounce about
while i lay helpless without direction
intermittent reflection
due to others deception
i wish i could perform inception
plant ideas in their heads
setting the seed, of not greed but the idea of needing ME;
it sets me free.

raggedy ann's legs seem to gain strength
she stands on command
and finally sees the only thing she needs
is the courage in herself to keep her up right
the insecurities and disappointments shut tight inside raggedy anndora's box
not to be opened
she stands tall even on the floor
takes a step ready to unfurl
what's yet to be discovered and take on the world.
Keith Robson Mar 2021
Raggedy rainbow had beads in her hair
Every color that you could imagine was there,
Raggedy rainbow was such a nice child
But now and again she could be very wild.

Raggedy rainbow was walking to school
With her beads shining brightly, she felt very cool,
Raggedy rainbow was dreaming again
And tripped on a sunbeam in tumbledown lane.

She heard someone laughing behind the red wall
That bordered the gardens of pixie dust hall,
Then up popped a head full of bright ginger curls
With a mouth busy chewing on peppermint whirls.

It was Raggedy's step-sister Cotton wool Kate
Who was doing her best to make Raggedy late,
But Raggedy Rainbow was nobody's fool
So off they both scampered, past pixie dust pool.

In fairy dell glade, they decided to play
And soon had forgotten the time of the day,
Playing Hop-Scotch with elves in the warm summer sun
Was better than lessons, and so much more fun.

Then hunger was telling them tea time was near
So the elves bid farewell with a smile and a tear,
And as they walked home in the twilight's soft glow
They bumped into their teacher, miss Wintersley-Snow.

She said ' Were you both disappointed to know,
That the school had been closed for the travelling show?'
We just smiled a sick smile, and we went on our way
Truant's not as much fun on a school holiday…
K Apr 2013
There once was a man with a bowtie

And a little redhead girl

I'm gonna tell you the truth now

She loved him and he loved her.

They sat around the table

With fish fingers and custard, ice cream

They talked about his big blue box

And her family

In the middle of their midnight snack

An alarm rang from TARDIS, blue

He told her he would be back

In just a minute, or two

He accidentally missed his mark

Twelve years had gone by

But he just sauntered out

Waving and saying "Amelia, hi!"

Twas the first time they saved the world

When Amelia was just nineteen

Two years later he picked her up

On the eve of her wedding

But then the cracks in the universe

And all of space and time

Consumed the Doctor, all of him

But that's not the ending rhyme

The night she and Rory wed

Amy jumped out of her chair

"I remember you!" She shouted

And the Doctor appeared there

And so the Raggedy man came back

No more in the crack in the wall

Amy's imaginary friend

Bowtie, suspenders, and all

Later came an astronaut

Her name was River Song

She lifted her hand and against her will

Killed the Doctor, gone.

But, hooray!

The Doctor wasn't dead

It was wibbly wobbly, timey wimey

Stuff messing with their heads

And Amy had a daughter

Name? Melody Pond.

But the only water in the forest is rivers,

So she was really River Song.

Subtract love,

Add hate

Daleks scream


Angels, Angels everywhere

Take a little blink

In the ground and in the air

And then they took Rory

"Come along Pond, please!"

He said with a cry

She turned to him and said

"Raggedy man, goodbye!"

"No!" He shouts in despair

"It can't be true!"

He stands over their grave

Oh Ponds, he loved you

He sits on the steps

Letting River fly

Too grief stricken to hurt

Or even to cry

Dreams are broken

Time stands still

The Doctor runs up

A small rocky hill

Afterword, it reads

By Amelia Pond

We love you Doctor

And we're sorry we're gone

There's a girl waiting in a garden

She'll be waiting for a while

So go to her

She needs a smile.

Tell her she's a fairytale

Known by many, loved by more

Not best in the universe,

But most important in the world.

She went with him and took his hand

He showed her the stars and distant lands

Together they ran, their spirits high

Until they day came when they said goodbye

Goodbye, Ponds.
Pauline Morris Oct 2016
Lying on my bed watching the fan move the skeletons around in my closet
I look over to the TV where my Raggedy Ann sits
A pretty little thing, but she's missing an arm
Can't help but think, like me a few parts are gone
Yet some how here we both still remain
Still existing, but never to be the same
The one that gave her to me never noticed what was wrong
She over looked Raggedy Ann's missing arm
I can only hope, most see me like my friend did Raggedy
Not for what I am, a crushed broken tragedy
Alissa Rogers Aug 2012
You are quite a gifted surgeon.
In fact you cut me so clean and sharp
I barely even knew it at the time.
Waking the next day in my hospital bed
was where I met my pain.
Being with you was like anesthesia:
I was so grateful for you to help me.
You were the one who weakened me.
My senses failed: your scalpel cut
clean to the core, and then I just let you
sew me back together. The nurses say
I am very lucky, that I had a good doctor.
I know better. I was once a person and
now I am Sally Stitches, or better yet, Raggedy Ann.
I am no one's operation game.
Letting you in brings only stitches and needles,
and it was I who checked myself in.
I need to learn to stitch myself at home.
Consider this my checking out.
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2016

with raggedy old words, this is how I write,
in a raggedy old navy t-shirt,
upon a ragged edged old chair,
whose splinters will soon enough,
seed themselves in poet's unreceptive,
but just asking-to-be-barbed
flesh bared

splinters asking with the phony politeness ,
in the manner of a steady, but  minor irritating
would-be-a-friend, annoyingly, but cloyingly

"am I not a poem, yet Father?"

Poet has no answer,
mixed words
deemed satisfying suitable but unusable,
unconvicted upon the hard hearted
mixed wood

poet waits for the ragged clotted cumulus
of old grey ladies shaped clouds
to dissipate

clouds shaped like the
puffed up shopping bags
that the old ladies clutch
while crossing mid-street
making the traffic play
"dodge'r the codgers"

bags fill with the odd things
that old ladies treasure,
objet d'art of empty
Oil of Olay Ole! and mindless dribble,
mementoes of completed containers
of emptied out hopes

expired coupons,
that they refuse to surrender
even under threat
by sour faced bossy
supermarket manager dictators,
who hate their lives and  
in the deepening creases
of the elderly clientele,
foresee their own fate inevitable

poet's waits for them,
these images,
these clotted bursts of sourpuss,
to depart his skin, sky's.
yes, his sky's

wits and wilts while he waits,
for he always has much to say,
of what lies above,
the unseen,
hid behind the bland uniform of  the overhanging
one-no-color sky
of blanched meh and feh crinolines

thinking to no one now,

this is how I write, this is who I am,

waiting for insight inspiration foam to form,
from the multi-variable model that predicts
with a high degree of confidence,
failure with tainted certainty,
even as clouds are shuffled along,
a new poem will pass
that haha, no one will read

but nonetheless, arguing among his several selves,
better to be more fulfilled by the emptying of himself
upon padded cell of paper, of his staining,
the piece of him now
un-chambered & un-containered
thru magma fissures, steaming & cleaning,
providing a penny's penance
for his disparate gloomy idiocies

the gray ladies always smile at him,
always so nice and gentlemanly like, that poet,
underneath his cowardly disdain,
against his pretense's  grain,
contempt for old grey ladies
with old lady odors emanating

is this who you are, is this how you write?

*with raggedy old words, that splinter our delight?
Terry O'Leary Sep 2015
Though still within our infancy,
we strive to thrive, but woefully
we flash and flaunt our 'primacy',
display our trophies pridefully.

Our terra firma ecstasy
destroys survival's harmony,
lays waste to life on land and sea.
Mankind, thy name is vanity!

By doubting Nature's regnancy,
defying laws with levity,
we strain our spheroid's symmetry
(perhaps a fatal fallacy?)

for, swallowed in the 'world of we',
we feed on vain insanity
with thoughts beyond eternity -
so strange when looked at mortally.

No use to seek a remedy
ensconced in ancient prophecy
for if not handled skillfully,
as clay we'll pay the penalty.

The Moguls rule with cruel decree,
control the crowds like puppetry,
pursuing greed addictively
with no accountability.

The wind, it reeks of Royalty
(awash in waves of perfidy)
while blowing ’cross the peasantry
(eclipsed in clouds of treachery).

The Queen, well steeped in snobbery,
sits, preening proud Her pedigree,
on throne of sculpted ebony
while sipping Sect immodestly;

to sate Her Regal Majesty,
a caviar clad canapé
is served with golden cutlery
by maidens bent submissively.

The King is bailed from bankruptcy
by Knaves who hoodwink artfully
the down-and-outer evictee
who wallows in their lenity.

Forsooth, the Money Monarchy
exalts the dollar dynasty
engaged in highway robbery
by Peacocks plumed in finery.

Yes, Jesters and the Fools agree
to truckle to duplicity
and laugh about it witlessly.
Long live the peon's penury!

To champion an oddity
(like two times twelve is fifty three)  
one reaches to theology
through paths of circularity.

In bygone trials of travesty
the doubters, draped in blasphemy,
endured the pain and agony
inflicted by the papacy.

Inspired by the Trinity
fanatics bent cosmology
in geocentric fantasy
while Bruno burned for heresy;

and aged women, randomly
accused of wicked witchery
by justice framed in infamy,
were racked and shown no clemency

That epoch of credulity
(when savants fostered sorcery
and practiced ancient alchemy)
arose in dark age quackery

as clerics dripping piety
(while raging, raving rabidly)
pervaded thralled society
with callous inhumanity;

'repent', they bellowed, 'verily,
forsake the world's iniquity,
live lives of want and chastity,
and give your gelt to God through me'.

The Masters make a mockery
of freedom and democracy
by holding down the uppity,
released from shackled slavery,

now fettered in a factory
else strewn across the Bowery,
still chained in bonds of bigotry,
immersed in seas of poverty.

And colliers, tapping balefully
in sunken-mine solemnity,
yet thrum a mournful monody
some call the digger's elegy.

To children, pale and raggedy
(behind a day of drudgery),
the boss man, oh so gallantly,
bestows a penny, niggardly;

though some are fed (belatedly),
their eyes recede in apathy
while bellies bulge, inflatedly,
with mothers watching, wretchedly.

When met with health adversity
or broken bone infirmity,
the pauper dangles helplessly
with no insurance policy;

and those engulfed in lunacy
are ailing blobs left floating free
in ******-dream obscurity -
a mired madhouse odyssey.

Ignoring mankind's unity,
the rich and poor dichotomy
breeds dismal doomed finality,
eventual nihility.

Renewing days of chivalry,
wild warriors fighting valiantly
bring freedom neath the gallows tree
while blending blood and burgundy

to toast the slaughtered enemy,
and so convince the colony
to cede with smile on bended knee
and yield her diamonds, silk and tea.

At first they call the cavalry
and then again the infantry,
so proudly primped in panoply,
with arms from finest armory

(embraced in hands so tenderly
bestow benign atrocity) -
and soon atomic weaponry
will extirpate posterity.

Misusing high technology
(to feed the face of gluttony)
depletes our Rock of energy,
now slowly dying thermally.

Our gadgets breathing CFC
fuel ozone holes' immensity
while cloud bursts, raining acidly,
wilt woods in their entirety,

and rivers, tainted chemically,
polluted biologically,
refill our cups methodically
and drown our souls organically.

Adjusting genes mechanically
may well blot out the bumble bee
annulling fruits' fecundity,
but brings big bucks reliably.

We wager perpetuity
to revel momentarily
in shadow-like obscurity
ignoring the futility,

but if we bet unknowingly
on fickle fate's contingency
and thereby act haphazardly
we're doomed to lose the lottery.

The modern day bureaucracy
abuses trust egregiously ,
embeds itself in obloquy
and offers no apology.

It paints the past in reverie
to camouflage the tendency
to strip away our privacy
which paves the path to tyranny.

With earlobes lurking furtively
that listen surreptitiously,
and eyeballs peering piercingly
we've lost cerebral sovereignty,

and those who dare to disagree
must hide away in secrecy
else crowd a black facility
(with water board anxiety).

Yes, sans responsibility,
our marble in this galaxy
will crumble in catastrophe
ere ever reaching puberty…
RJVHorton  Dec 2015
Raggedy Mules
RJVHorton Dec 2015
Raggedy Mules

Ghosts of the past
     on their raggedy mules,

Clichéd and typecast
     as infidels and fools,

Travelling nearby
     in their caravans of woe

And in the blink of an eye
     know what we know.

All that we fear
     and all that we yearn,

They see and hear
     as they twist and turn,

Through love and hate,
     beyond life or death,

The journey of fate
     lies on laboured breath.

On a wing and a prayer
     we wallow in doubt,

Grasping at thin air
     trying to get out,

But how pitiful we are
     with our ifs and buts,

Never getting very far
     as each door shuts.

Stranded in the void
     between Heaven and Earth

We seek out the paranoid
     to confirm our birth,

And they stand in line
     pretending to be friends,

And on our souls they dine
     when our journey ends.

Foolishly, we follow
     with all emotion spent,

In perpetual sorrow,
     waiting to be sent

To the archives of insanity
     dressed as ghouls,

Where we escape humanity
     on raggedy mules.

© RJVHorton2015
Dark n Beautiful Jun 2014
Your kind of love cripples me
I am weak,
I am sad,
I feel hopeless
You make me feel like raggedy Ann
Red braids and strips stocking
Cherry lips with white and blue smocking
A fabulous smile with twinkly eyes
I am flawless today
However, tomorrow I will be worthless
I am emotionally abuse
By the master of deception
Mr. Lover
Don't Let Anyone Steal Your

Pauline Morris Mar 2016
I'm just a Raggedy Ann doll in a Barbie doll world
And sadly I'm starting to become unfurled
Into this wounded life I was hurled
And the lines are becoming blurred
It's all becoming so very much twirled
And this mind of mine is so very much swirled
So in the corner you'll find me curled
Anthony Williams Jul 2014
It was always going to be black and white
that's the typeface on my preference of late
defining day and night with your choice of tights
those fine dividing lines on your partnered limbs
wrapped tall in belts daring as a Lara Croft climb
a silky striped raggedy ann gone neat sensuous
tight strapped to a two striking sinuous princess
committed to lodge sins inside my Loveland challenge
hemmed in round towers together to never-never unhinge

at home we horse around and rub along together
boosted by the interplay between cotton twill gathered
pulled low one side then canter balance riding high
as you level up to a line up of outbound thigh
saddled with a lovely leg stirrup over here
and a lean waist wobble to match up there
eyebrow lifts to starch arrowroot attention
over the swings and sway of every action
so swift I play catch-up each morning
delayed by fumbling for ones gone matching
it's a wonder you don't just wander away
in a daze from my one legged hopping display

then I would travel far as a bee
long-legged as stilts could be
to sing to your nails and feet
and be spun free flaunting
our google
a red white and blue
pair of giggles unfurled like flags
in your slim line dancers' legs
dangling ideas like fair weather socks
to goggle one direction behind your back
unique like nobody else contains within
thin licked then rolled back ciggie skins
so I pinch holes in the bacci parts
sinking into slats like leaky wooden boats
your avoiding tiptoes gadfly and curl in return
my feet undoing knits with swats and swirls
toeing tinkling notes like piano keys
undertones pink tinged with tingling knees
and when a jukebox plays
my coins are there always
for I've got your pop socks in motion
your vox populi's united under my skin
with impressive pulled tight bands
embedding imprint elastic rings
inky red slinking down
leaving parallel links

ignore my pins and needles
alone in dead of night
longing for your leggings
luminous stripe tights
today it's all me put on the spot
today it's music you might hate
biographies of people you don't like
subtitled movies too deep to bother
blue jeans dull dyed against your garter belt
a one man team can't DIY a drill majorette
spiralling shafts that come to a threaded point
enthralling with alternating knee bend bit pants
so pretty poly soft I'm pulled up like a fool
fully mixed up by your weaving cotton wool
wave me down in your way of sweet patter feet
a patterned cakewalk for you to catwalk sock it
to me in a stand in posey kind of way
this way to stand outs knitted to fancy
uncross your legs and cross-stitch
my path with gaited kisses
by Anthony Williams
Poetoftheway Apr 2020

~ “Above everything else, guard your heart; for it is the source of life's consequences.”~
Proverbs 4:23)

these days, good advice overnight trebles in value,
no one I’m sure has consulted Proverbs today,
not me, not you, not anybody, but these words
came to we, the confined, lonely hearted prisoners, we who

are needy to reflect, we raggedy people in solitary.

tonight, some of us will recall an exodus to free,
an escape from slavery, how we put at risk
our bodies in a sea, a desert, more crazy, in an
invisible deity, when that was a heretical concept, we who

are needy to reflect, we raggedy people in solitary.

Above everything else, guard your heart;
for it is the source of life's consequences,
the ***** above/beyond mouths, eyes, even lungs,
it’s what purposed we fragile, petal edging humans who
are needy to reflect, we raggedy people in solitary.

— The End —