"collin" poems
Sometimes, when you listen to their enounciation.
You realize, just how beautiful they speak in their British accent.
Every word expressively spoken.
That you're mermorized by each vocal.
Maggie Smith, the lady of class.
Cary Grant, the man of taste.
Oh, that British voice.
That you might chose , if had you that choice.
Or seek ways to adapt them to yours.
Michael Redgrave/Michael Rennie/Vanessa Regraves
All of them had that lovable voice.
Then you notice the beautiful Julie Andrew.
Words spoke so you see the greatness of the phase.
Which we notice too in Richard Attenborough.
Who reminds many of Richard Burton?
Yes, the British accent.
You just got to love it
Similar to loving Honor Blackman when she speaks.
A great difference from Jacqueline Bissett.
Except written about them with great respect.
Who can't admire the British Accent?
Yes, there's the French.
And I'm not kicking it.
Then , there's Spanish.
Which has more trying to learn it.
But this is about the English and the various style of vocals.
Colin Barker and Prince Williams the Royals speaks so wonderful.
Just like, the man called Michael Caine.
I just have to mention Deborah Kerr.
That also goes for Joan Collin.
It's something about their style of speaking.
Maybe because you understand every spoken word.
Which is level toward the great Timothy Dalton.
And Samantha Eggar and **** Jagger.
Plus, the late David Niven.
And honorable mention to Julie Christie.
Jane Asher, Hugh Grant and several more.
Have you wishing to make their voices be yours.
Yes, the British Accent just so lovable.
And the greatest things about it.
You don't have to be famous to be adored.
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 10:23 AM UTC
Life can be painless
Provided there is sufficient
Peacefulness
For a dozen or so rituals
To be repeated simply
Endlessly
Your genius does not fail you
It allows you to understand the
Truth of the situation;
Which makes you--at times--
more tragic than ever
And your genius,
like all geniuses
Suffers periodic fits
of monumental
naïveté
Hi-ho
Listen:
Where is Grace
When milk and blood
Are about to be added
To the composition of the
Stinking ping-pong
***** being manufactured
In Grand Rapids?
Schizophrenia
The sound and appearance
Of the word fascinates
It sounds and looks to me
Like a human being
Sneezing in a blizzard of
Soapflakes
This much we know:
You made yourself hideously
Uncomfortable by not narrowing
Your attention to details
Of life that were immediately
Important
And by refusing to believe what
Your neighbors believed
Hi-ho
Let your imagination continue
To be the flywheel on the
Ramshackle machinery of the truth.
But not the ‘awful’ truth
The ‘beauty’ in truth
Because we are a part
Of a system that is very
Restless,
With people tearing around
All the time
Every so often,
somebody stops to put up
A monument
Ours is a country where
Everybody is expected to
Pay his own bills for
Everything,
And one of the most
Expensive things a person
Can do is get sick
Grace:
Because if we stay here
We’ll do one of two things
(or both!)
Build a Commune
Or do like Collin Heise did:
Make the main thing that we
do be this:
Move seventy-eight
Thousand pounds of olives
To Tulsa, Oklahoma
Even if we can’t
Improve the quality of our surroundings
We’ll do our best to make our
Insides beautiful instead
Piebald Roadtrip-writing, baby
Hi-ho
You are the turtle
able to live anywhere
even under water for short periods
With your home on your back
A particular comfort in
Realizing that it so often feels
There is no order in the
World around us
That we must adapt ourselves to
The requirements of
Chaos instead
Remember:
We are healthy
Only to the extent that
Our ideas are
Humane
To you
To me
To ourselves
To We
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 9:05 PM UTC
Collin has got me going crazy.
Who knew little ghost boys could be so difficult?
He wants pizza all the time.
He never wants to go to bed.
He never wants to leave my side.
If it weren't for that cute little ghost smile of his
I would be a complete and total wreck.
I'd be more firm,
But I'm a bit melted.
His cuteness melts my heart.
Oh baby boy.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 1:50 AM UTC
As I was walking down the road
I could smeel the sweet grass: freshly mowed
I saw the sun setting in the distance
The blood-red glow seemed proof of its resistance
The colors: red, orange, yellow, and gold
All melted away so that night could unfold
I felt the air collin all around me
And saw the lightening bugs in front of the tree
I could hear the water running down the creek
past the quiant house that was so antique
The glowing light from its windows
Beckoned me forward from the shadows
Apr 4, 2010
Apr 4, 2010 at 7:44 PM UTC
Collin behaved very well today.
He went in the pool,
And learned to blow bubbles underwater.
It was easy for him though,
Ghosts never sink.
"I only float, mama.
Look at me floating."
He tells me.
Yes baby,
You only float.
You're doing great.
He ate pasta salad,
With no mayonnaise.
He is allergic to mayonnaise.
It gives him hives.
Oh Collin.
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 4:55 PM UTC
Collin and I have been
Quite mellow lately.
I've been a bit sad,
And he's given quite a few ghost hugs.
Sometimes I wake him up
In the middle of the night
So I can rock him back to sleep in my arms.
And feel his little ghost baby breaths
And watch his little ghost baby shoulders
Move up and down
And up and down.
It's so comforting that he seems to be guaranteed
When nothing else is.
He's still learning to read and write.
He's currently on M
Which he says is for MoM, and Monkey,
And Meryl Steep.
(he means my favorite actress Meryl Streep)
Do not badger me with being a bad parent,
You are not the single mother of a little ghost boy.
You wouldn't even know how to raise a ghost baby.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 3:02 AM UTC
Dear Life,
Get out of my life. I don't like you; I’m scared of you. I'm not scared of death; I’m scared of life. I can't look at myself in the mirror without getting goose bumps; I can’t water a plant without screaming. I don't know why I'm afraid of life, I just am.
But maybe it has something to do with my mother; she hated death, so I decided to revolt against her by hating life.
Another thing I should mention is that I don't like school, because most learning has something to do with living. In case you're wondering, I don't like writing, and I’m terrible at it. So don't expect any Shakespeare, coming from me. “Why are you writing this?” you ask. Well, I'll tell you.
It was about a year ago, that I started going to talk to this weird psychiatrist that my mother wanted me to see. So we talked and we talked, and I was not having fun because I hated talking. The psychiatrist said that I should write about my phobia, to get all my anger out. I thought,” what a bunch of nonsense,” but I did it. Here I am now writing to you. I ‘m afraid you’re never going to write back and that’s fine with me. But if you do, I’m afraid of what you’ll tell me, anyway. I’m scared that you’ll call me a coward for being afraid of something that I’ve lived with all these years.
Signed,
Collin.
Dear Collin,
I received your letter a while ago and I have been contemplating your phobia for 2 years. For what you wrote was powerful.
You’re not a coward and I won’t scold you. I have a phobia of death. Everyone has a phobia of something or other. Your phobia is not unusual but just so few people these days care to express themselves. You’re one of the first people to have written to me. You’re not a coward; you’re talking to your fear, something that takes lots of courage.
There is no reason to be afraid of me. Why are you afraid of me? I don’t think your mother is the real reason. I think you’re just too scared to go out in the real world and breathe the living air. You’re not afraid of life, you’re afraid of what is in life. You’re not afraid of me, you’re afraid of the lives I create and what is inside of them.
Your mother cares about you. She wants you to conquer your fear. You can do it, simply enjoy what’s around you, and don’t be afraid. Because, beneath your fear is hatred and you have no choice but to love.
You can do it , Collin, I know you can.
Signed,
Life
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 1:54 PM UTC
This week I have been teaching my little ghost to read.
We have started with, of course,
Cat in the Hat.
His favorite letter is C.
Because it's in his name,
And it's in chocolate.
And it's shaped like a cookie with a bite taken out of it.
Those are his words not mine.
He is very good at this.
I am so proud of my little Collin.
His new nickname is "mostly ghostly".
He learned it from his new friend Jordan.
Baby **** life.
Sep 13, 2013
Sep 13, 2013 at 1:12 PM UTC
Call me weird or twisted
but I like myself some nasty *******
toss them around like im cleaning dishes
they are all easy fishes in a barrel
I roll em around till they call me collin ferrel
im a skinny lil *******
I can hog tie a girl without a lasso
firemans carry into my den
Where i treat em like a rooster to a hen.
spank there *** and say that was fun
do it again?
Aug 17, 2012
Aug 17, 2012 at 8:10 PM UTC
I’m not mad at you for falling out of love
Just for letting it hurt her in such a vicious way
Like your dad did to you before you got away
You almost felt wanted and then he gave up on you
If it hurt you so bad, then whys that what you do
What really is missed up is how you took advantage
I just can’t understand how you let that happened
I know the sound of your laugh, the tear streaked cheeks and red eyes
I knew the sounds you make when you really start to cry
Told me once, all your secrets, all your hurts and reasons why
Created a new safe place, you were my true best friend
I thought I knew you, thought you couldn't just blend
You truly cared about those you thought could love
You were my star that was sent from above
Transforming you began to change
You locked yourself away, began to forget my name
Put me down, and hide away
You never talked, or cried in front of me
I know life became hard, especially four you
I just thought it could never **** the fight inside of you
I am not mad at Collin because he is a nice guy
Just mad at you, for never thinking why
What really hurts to me, is I miss you every day
I miss my red head smile that always wants to play
The laughter that I use to know
The freckled happiness
I just can’t seem to find her
In the shades of grey and ****** mess
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 8:19 PM UTC
It's three am
I hear him whisper
"Mommy, I'm scared."
Now 40% of my bed is taken up by a snoring ghost baby.
Goodnight Collin.
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 3:00 AM UTC
How quiet it must have been
for you, Michael Collins...
How calm it must have seemed
for you, Michael Collins...
How tranquil you must have felt
up there alone
with no one on the radio,
except for you, Michael Collins...
Doing something no one had done
with no one around to see
because you were in a place no one had been
with no way to share what you saw
because even radios fail that far away from home.
But not you, Michael Collins...
How dark was it in there
with not even the sun to guide your way?
How still was the air
with not even the wind to make a sound?
How many times did you ask yourself,
Michael Collins,
if you would ever see home again?
How many times did you think to yourself,
Michael Collins,
that you might not ever again
see the faces you remember?
On that clearest night,
did the stars not seem brighter than before?
Upon coming into the sun again,
did you,
Michael Collins,
not feel lighter than before?
It must have been strangely startling
to have been startled by that strange crackle
coming from the radio.
For another human voice to sound so foreign
yours must have been a lie.
How did it feel leaving that void,
Michael Collins,
and crashing back into existence?
How soon did it feel,
to you, Michael Collins,
that your feet were back on the ground?
I imagine you must miss that silence.
...
I imagine you must
from time to time
walk far far away
and look at the stars.
I would ask you one question if I could,
Michael Collin,
on the clearest night
when you look up into that darkness
have the stars ever been brighter than before?
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 1:51 AM UTC
Collin got a little upset today.
I got two tattoos at a tattoo parlor today,
And he got scared.
I let him sleep in the backseat of the car,
And I let him eat some cookies,
Only because they weren't real.
They were ghost cookies,
There's only ghost sugar in them.
That does no harm at all.
He did steal a few sips of my coffee though,
That was an absolute nightmare.
Four year olds cannot handle coffee.
Such a handful.
Collin is on the ceiling.
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 9:01 PM UTC
We've got ourselves into quite a nice daily routine.
My little ghost boy and I.
Collin wakes me up in the morning with his squirming
He is only four, so you can imagine how early that is.
He eats some cheerios and an apple.
I got to my classes for the day and work,
And Collin plays with his fore mentioned friend, Jordan.
I make Collin something for lunch,
And we practice reading and writing.
We watch some Arthur or Dragon Tales
We run some errands
He has some ghost pasta or vegetarian hot dogs,
Or anything really, for dinner.
And we tell stories till it's time for him to go to bed,
And time for me to write my essays
And do my calculus.
And then I hold my sleeping ghost baby
And rock him back and forth
So that my life doesn't feel so useless.
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 2:10 PM UTC
Collin is currently obsessed with hand holding.
He holds my hand all through the night.
You can imagine how well I sleep with my son.
But it's worth it.
He uses two hands,
And sometimes glues my hand
To his tiny little ghost heart.
Yes, ghost hearts do still beat.
Yes, my heart has completely melted.
I love you baby.
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 12:10 AM UTC
Sometimes I see a little boy,
In a blue and yellow striped shirt,
In the corner of my eye.
He told me he is a lost spirit,
And that I was to adopt him.
The boy did not remember his name,
He only knew that he was four.
So I tried to call him timothy.
He gave me a headache,
He does not like the name Timothy,
He prefers Collin.
Sometimes he is in my dreams,
And he asks me to sing to him.
He cries when I sing church songs.
And he cries when I smoke or light a candle.
I think he died in a church.
I think he died in a fire.
Poor Collin.
Sometimes he just watches me.
And he sings a little song.
"The wind moves the tree.
And I move too.
But what moves me?
That is up to you."
Poor Collin.
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 2:16 AM UTC
My little ghost baby Collin and I moved the other day.
We were in the car for about five hours.
Unfortunately he did not sleep.
He was going through boxes and singing loud songs.
He was excited though.
I had been sick,
I still am.
Collin had a stuffy nose last night.
I made him stay in bed all day,
And eat some ghost soup.
I did not start unpacking one thing until today.
All the basics are put away.
We don't have much.
We have a lot of spoons though.
Collin is making me read him this right now.
He wants me to tell you all that he likes spoons.
Silly silly baby.
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 1:27 AM UTC
I love my little ghost boy.
Collin snuck up on me
As I was sleeping at my fiancee's house yesterday.
He wiggled his way into my arms.
I must say,
He was quite cold,
And it was quite unexpected.
He was playing so nicely in the crawl space.
I did not think he would get so tired.
I think something scared him,
My poor baby.
He woke me up and I couldn't go back to sleep.
Mummy duties I guess.
Poor Collin.
He fell asleep though,
I bundled him up in the blankets,
And left him in the corner of the bed.
He slept for five hours.
Crazy little tired ghost baby.
Love you.
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
Collin was not very kind today.
He beat up another little ghost boy, he told me.
This one didn't die in the fire,
This one was in a car accident,
And he was named Bobby.
Collin didn't play nice,
And he is now in time out.
He made a candle fall off my bookshelf because of it.
I am tired of your **** today Collin.
Behave.
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 1:58 AM UTC
The reason I haven't written a lot about Collin lately,
Is not because I have been having trouble connecting with him.
Or seeing him.
You see, I've been very self centered, and very alienated.
I think I have been trough a few tragedies this year,
And due to my inability to processes events that might hurt me,
And my ability to bury emotionally challenging memories,
I have internally wallowed for about the past 11 months.
The last month, in particular,
Has been quite bad.
Collin is my ghost baby,
And I love him with all my heart,
I still feed him,
And read to him,
And let him play with candles,
And tuck him into bed with me.
I am a **** good mother to that little ghost boy,
Especially considering I'm not a ghost myself.
But it's just been me and him.
No one else.
And we had our Christmas late at night,
And he is still learning to read,
And I still give him lots of love and kisses.
I just haven't felt the need to share any of it. Any of us.
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 1:23 AM UTC
You made me believe in love, in her power and her grace. I freely gave you what I had and you threw it in my face. I didn't think it could be true but you had me at hello, I devoted myself completely to you, I loved you more than you could know. ***** chewed it up and ate it, spat it right there on the ground. And there at your filthy feet my heart and soul I found. You're a demon, you're a serpant, you're a lying, two-faced troll and what's coming for you is big and bad and it wants your blackened soul. I'd say run your heart out but I know there's nothing there, you're just the Devil in a skirt and heels, pure evil with great hair.
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 1:27 AM UTC
My little ghost baby is the love of my life.
He keeps me so grounded.
He is the most precious thing.
Every "I love you mama"
Melts my heart beyond belief.
He's sleeping now,
Because he didn't nap today.
But I thought I'd take this moment of silence
To appreciate my little family.
My littel ghost boy and myself.
I love you Collin.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
My little ghost baby is truly the best.
The cutest little thing,
My little Collin.
He woke up in the middle of the night,
And asked
"Mama, I woke up to say I love you."
I have melted completely.
I am a pile of moosh on the floor.
I love you, baby.
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 10:45 PM UTC
Today Collin disappeared.
He was not around when I woke up,
He was not around when I got back from picking up my car,
He was not around when I got home from running errands.
I would have called the police,
If there was any such thing as a Casper Alert.
Oh, what a horrid thing to lose a little ghost boy.
Who can help you?
He finally came back at dinner time,
Only because I had made mac n cheese.
He had gone to the park all ******* day long.
Collin is only four,
This is unacceptable.
He had me running ragged.
He is not allowed to go out for three weeks now.
And he is not leaving my sight for those three weeks.
Especially since we are moving Monday.
I have to pack his ghost clothes,
And his little translucent ghost toys.
Dear god, Collin,
You scared me.
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 11:22 PM UTC
Collin has developed a new love for salads.
I could not be more pleased.
He does have to cover them in cheese,
But ghosts can't really become obese...
So I will take what I can get.
There is another ghost boy in our building.
His name is Jordan,
He is five and he has lived here for two years.
They play together when I'm busy.
Jordan is very tough,
So I have been teaching Collin to hold his own.
No one will push my baby around.
He's too special for that.
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC