#polly
What if Jack went through a different door?
My idea of hell on earth
She’s in your people you might know
her names polly pixie dust all one word
It was harder holding on than letting go
My want blocked out all the hurt
Got carpet burns I was so low
Dragging myself along the dirt.
Baby we’re in a jam
I’ll preserve all my feelings
It’s all a bit sticky
**** maybe you’re just healing?
Instead of you climbing up the walls
Maybe climb onto my ****
I’d pick you up I’d make her walk on all fours
Polly pixie dust doesn’t have to exist
One click of the button and it’s case closed
You know how hard it is to resit
Licking the sugar and syrup
When it’s covered over both your lips
Baby we’re in a jam
I’ll preserve all my feelings
It’s all a bit sticky
**** maybe you’re just healing?
Baby we’re in a jam
It’s all a bit sticky
Preserve what I have
Find lust in the city
I could’ve been a man
But instead acted ******
Baby we’re in a jam.
Oct 29, 2025
Oct 29, 2025 at 10:57 AM UTC
You are my lullaby,
A sweet little birdsong.
You are my lullaby,
Soft and strong.
You are my lullaby.
You outshine the morning sun.
You are my lullaby,
You are my mirthful fun.
You are my lullaby
Your smiling eyes shine true
Oh, my little lullaby,
How I do love you!
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 3:58 AM UTC
A car arrives in the drive
and stops outside
the front door
all the servants are there
and George's parents
wait there all importantly
watching the car door
the chauffeur gets out
and opens the back door
and George back
from the hospital
for shell shock
gets out and puts a hand
over his forehead
to block out sunlight
then looks around the grounds
around the house
his mother steps forward
and takes his hand
welcome home George
she says
George stares at her
he nods but doesn't smile
he looks into the faces
of all those standing there
by the front door
as if amongst strangers
his father moves forward
and gently takes his son's arm
George moves forward uncertainly
his feet unsteady
his hands shaking slightly
his eyes move over the servants
wide and staring
then he stops
and points to Polly
Polly
he says softly
almost a mumble
she gazes at him
uncertain what to do
the mother looks at Polly
come help Polly
Master George recognizes you
and indicates
with her other hand
that she should come
so Polly walks
to George's side
and says nothing
but smiles at him
and he smiles back
we'll go to his room
the father says
a footman takes the bags
and follows George
and his parents and Polly
inside the house
and up the wide staircase
the other servants
including the butler Dudman
move away from the door
and go about their tasks
Dudman goes in
and stares at the party
walking upstairs slowly
and sighs
Polly has overstepped the line
as far as he is concerned
he'll have to watch her
he muses watching the party
disappear from the stairs
and gives the absent Polly
one of his cold stares.
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 2:12 AM UTC
Polly polishes
George's room
as Gripe had told her.
Rubs the polish cloth
over the sideboard
into a bright shine.
Polish smell;
sniffs it;
sniffs the cloth.
Rubs again,
another surface.
The window is open;
fresh air enters,
blows curtains inwards.
She hears birdsong
from outside.
She pauses polishing;
goes to the window
and peers out.
Wonders where
George is.
How he is doing
in that hospital
with shell-shock.
Across the Channel
war is on.
Men being killed;
men driven mad
with sight seen.
George said about
seeing a head gazing
at him on trench top.
She bites her lip;
wishes he
was back home.
The Master's son;
she a maid.
He and she making love
in his bed that last time.
Wants it again;
warm in his bed;
him kissing her.
His moustache tickling
her to giggles,
shafting her
to a seventh heaven.
She walks back
to the bed
and lies down.
Imagines him there;
knows he is not,
just lies and stares
at the ceiling
with that deep down
lost feeling.
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 1:46 AM UTC
I pulled them, I snipped them off,
She loves me, she loves me not,
With each pull a muffled scream
Then the snip,
Deep terrified Agonizing scream
Pain,
Blood,
Bone,
Then its thrown on the floor,
One of many, not many more to go,
"Do you love me"
NO
"She loves me not"
Another one broken, then left till
The next one is snipped off,
She thinks is she the only one?
Looks behind,
To see jars labelled loved me not,
So many before, the same question
"Do you love me"
"No you do not"
He called them his petals,
But where was the stem they had come from,
He came to find her still,
The question asked
"Do you love me"
YES
"She loves me,"
"She loves me not"
A petal did not fall upon the floor
He looked with head at an angle,
You love me?
After what I have done,
She smiles through the pain,
I always did love you,
I needed to see how far you would go,
With that he slowly undid the straps,
A bandage for her digits missing
Now lying blooded on the floor,
She had seen it behind,
He had give her a drink,
"She was so close to being free,"
He had a look in his eye,
As she turned
She heard a different rhyme
"Miss Polly had a dolly"
"&"
"Its"
"Head"
"Fell off"
Last words spoke, as no digits removed
"Instead a head rolls along the floor"
A stem lies bleeding
The face frozen in shock
As the head added to the heads fell off jars,
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
Snark, waspy, narcissistic
rude, racist, pessimistic
pretty blonde hair
with her ruby red lipstick
she tastes so sweet but her thoughts are sadistic
I want out,
but I want in,
I can't resist it
Pardon me, Polly
Can I take you off my wish list?
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 12:13 AM UTC