‘To bed! To bed!’
‘Tarry awhile,’ said Slow;
‘Put on the pan,’
Said Greedy Nan;
‘We'll sup before we go.’
(from Mother Goose)
They sat at the kitchen table as
The candle flickered low,
And Greedy Nan put on the pan
To indulge her sister, Slow,
While Sleepy Weepy Annabelle
Blotted her book with tears,
And thought of her Beau from long ago
Who she hadn’t seen for years.
‘Why doesn’t Roger notice me,
Why doesn’t Alan Dell?
I’m wearing the dress cut low for me
And I’ve hitched my skirt as well.
I’ve a pretty turn to my ankle, so
You’d think it would drive them wild.’
‘But men are a mystery,’ said Slow,
‘And Alan Dell’s a child.’
While over the pan stood Greedy Nan,
Was cracking a turkey’s egg,
A lump of yeast and a slice of beast
And a single spider’s leg.
With a wing of bat and an ounce of fat
And a toe of frog for the spell,
She needed to turn her sister off
From her crush on Alan Dell.
For Greedy Nan was the eldest girl
And would have to marry first,
The other two would wait in the queue
Or their fortunes be reversed,
The omelette sizzled, and in the pan
She added before they saw,
A piece of some Devil’s Trumpet plant
For the mating game meant war.
She sliced the omelette into half
And she served them up a piece,
‘Didn’t you want?’ said Annabelle
But Slow enjoyed the feast.
‘I’m not that terribly hungry now
I’ve cooked it up in the pan,
I think I’ll just have a slice of bread,’
Said the scheming Greedy Nan.
They finished up and they sat awhile,
And they mused about their fate,
‘If Greedy Nan isn’t married soon,
For us it will be too late.’
‘I’ve set my sights on a country squire,’
Said Nan, without a blink,
Lured them away from her secret fire
To confuse what they might think.
‘The room is woozy, spinning around,
I’d better get me to bed,’
Said Annabelle, while Slow with a frown
Saw Dwarves dancing in her head.
But Greedy Nan was cleaning the pan
To clear all signs of the spell,
Her back was turned to her sisters, spurned
For the sake of Alan Dell.
And when he came in the morning
Greedy Nan was sat by the door,
While Annabelle and her sister Slow
Were lying dead on the floor,
‘I didn’t mean it to kill them, Al,
It was only a simple spell,’
But as he cuffed and led her away
He frowned, did Alan Dell.
David Lewis Paget
I live a life of unfulfilled dreams.
trips never travelled and sights never seen.
words never written and photos never taken.
a world full of wonder and I sit here unshaken.
one would think of glorious adventures ahead,
but I'm just trying to find a way out of bed.
You're obviously pretty special
I sleep with you every night
All the years I've known you,
We've never gotten in a fight
We spend so much time together,
Like a couple young in love,
But all I seek is rest
From everything I'm tired of
I go to you in need of slight slumber
Or possibly hours of higher number
You're there when I'm mad,
And even feeling crappy
Thanks for being what nobody else could be
And get this in your head;
You mean a lot to me
I'm also talking about my bed
We were the mystery
We were the shaking of heads
We were the whispers in the bathroom at 11 am
We were the smoke in the hallways
We were the leaves catching on air currents
like "I don't care how or why but I'm going somewhere"
We were balled up bills in the crook of
someone's sweaty Xanax palm
We were the lamps at night burning
We were the lasers on the ceiling
We were the lines of chemicals waiting on the counter
We were nothing good
nothing but mud and regrets on our feet
The teachers shook their heads
wondered to themselves how we ever got to sleep
the bed is not very big
a sufficient pillow shoveling
her small manure-shaped head
one sheet on which distinctly wags
at times the weary twig
of a neckless nudity
(very occasionally budding
a flabby algebraic odour
et tout en face
always wiggles the perfectly dead
finger of thitherhithering gas.
clothed with a luminous fur
a Jesus sags
in frolicsome wooden agony).
Waking up to your beautiful face in the form of a virtual message gives me a thrill.
But waking up to your beautiful face right beside me, eyes closed, murmuring sleepy whispers...