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"deirdre" poems
Things sometimes fall apart Among sisters and brothers, No matter what they once were. Childhood picnics and dreamy games, Memories of trips with Dad, Since Mom was tired of us. We would climb Appalachian peaks Or drive to look at the Mayflower. Every summer there was a golden week A lakeside cottage and all-day swims In crystal water, becoming mermaids. But time passes and bitterness accrues. Imagined slights grow like slow tumors, Never excised but nurtured by some. I go to college and am freed From the poison of ignorant rage, From the creeping depression left Like diesel fog on an endless floor. Four or five years of delight pass With only hints here or there Of a sibling’s misery at home. Of a once close sister, Maggie, Who is ignored and never loved By any man she pursues. She blames me for it, for reasons I have yet to fathom. Of a brother, Francis, deluded, drugged, Steals the family car in a rage And drives to New York City. Of Deirdre, the middle sister, Whose friend who knows men who feed On her ignorance and rebellion. Only Susannah tries to rise above The maelstrom of misery. I send her to a school far away And she sheds despair, at least. Decades drawl, children are born to us, While the bridge between us, obscured, Sags and frays under weight of rancor. Christmas dinners and birthday parties Turn into chores, invitations kept as scores. Petty grudges, like acid, sever the bridge At last, all ties are abandoned. When we are all grown and scattered, No one speaking to anyone else, Unaware, uncaring about the others. Only Susannah visits me and smiles, With no ulterior plan for insane revenge, Or accusations for errant slights. Her once dark hair is grizzled and wild And her girlish skin now creased. But her treacle eyes, “black aggies”, I used to call them, still shine. Only Susannah writes a letter, Wishing us well and Healing scars made by others, Returning the word “family”. To my basket of small treasures, I carry with me Into the twilight.
0
Oct 10, 2021
Oct 10, 2021 at 10:52 AM UTC
Only Susannah
Things sometimes fall apart Among sisters and brothers, No matter what they once were. Childhood picnics and dreamy games, Memories of trips with Dad, Since Mom was tired of us. We would climb Appalachian peaks Or drive to look at the Mayflower. Every summer there was a golden week A lakeside cottage and all-day swims In crystal water, becoming mermaids. But time passes and bitterness accrues. Imagined slights grow like slow tumors, Never excised but nurtured by some. I go to college and am freed From the poison of ignorant rage, From the creeping depression left Like diesel fog on an endless floor. Four or five years of delight pass With only hints here or there Of a sibling’s misery at home. Of a once close sister, Maggie, Who is ignored and never loved By any man she pursues. She blames me for it, for reasons I have yet to fathom. Of a brother, Francis, deluded, drugged, Steals the family car in a rage And drives to New York City. Of Deirdre, the middle sister, Whose friend who knows men who feed On her ignorance and rebellion. Only Susannah tries to rise above The maelstrom of misery. I send her to a school far away And she sheds despair, at least. Decades drawl, children are born to us, While the bridge between us, obscured, Sags and frays under weight of rancor. Christmas dinners and birthday parties Turn into chores, invitations kept as scores. Petty grudges, like acid, sever the bridge At last, all ties are abandoned. When we are all grown and scattered, No one speaking to anyone else, Unaware, uncaring about the others. Only Susannah visits me and smiles, With no ulterior plan for insane revenge, Or accusations for errant slights. Her once dark hair is grizzled and wild And her girlish skin now creased. But her treacle eyes, “black aggies”, I used to call them, still shine. Only Susannah writes a letter, Wishing us well and Healing scars made by others, Returning the word “family”. To my basket of small treasures, I carry with me Into the twilight.
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60
Ask for Kids: AND MUCH or Bakadha IUS Air Gulf Air Walk away. Alan Gobo is Apple, Apple, Idlet, Usup 500, Gear smell, Iran, Iran HD Cicero, Wireless, Leaden Transformer Bealal Parakeet Health. Fiosrachadh or dhealaichte Ameire Reoich AG - (if applicable): Theodosius Theodosiou - Director of the brother of Shenoch Roskoff. I know you are in Sierra Leone, Mali, WA 1000 Media and South Africa from Central Asia Macle 2 Joan Majal Jaya Jaya Muya and others. We, we, us, us, us, us, us, us, us, us. Dirood is damaging it. 500 includes ASASAGAG diet food before or after balloon iAccess to Google Seafood Alan Gobo Apple Apple, edititis, iPatch 500, gearmailis, Iran, Iran HD Ciceron Wireless Loaded Transformers, Paracak Health, Fishchurch Success and Dhageilex Ameeraganaich AG - Magnesia: Teodosio Teodosio book director, Shench Roskoff, visited Sierra Leone, Mali, USA, WA 1000 or South Central Middle East Law, Atunlo 2 Yang Vandeim Vande - Canada I - Aggressive - Yang - Reyes - Canada WAA, Amirgarh AM Tharah AG - Richard Jung - Jelly version, lovely Deirdre's love leads to love and sin for the carpenter of Iberia, Iberia, Iberia, Iberia, Iberia, Iberia, Iberia, Food, Jade with Alan Gobo Apple, Idiotelech, UoPach 500, Giyarmel, Irian, Irian Ichde Cicero, Wireless, Leiden, Fiosrachhadh is not a forum in this world (great secret): Theodosios Theodosos - Sanaos Roskov Acting officer in charge. What is the purpose of sending emails in Sierra Leone, Mali, 1000 and the South Madia Disease Milele Disorder 2 Joint Jay and Apheki Patterns? Yang Thumas Customers, Canada, Canada Canada, Algorithm Algorithm. The Water of Orion Sapians, Muslimen, Mi Gobo Boop Japan, 500 Sonogram, Jack's Shirt, **** Death, Jerome C. Vanidimo, Wendy Builder - Yo Yo- iyann ​​Canada, Canada Dewu, dublova, DBL, Lova DAB, DAB Lova , Double, Double, Diablo Pivot, Devil, Animal, amiragarh and I'm glad to give you another chance to change - I hope the rich will **** 1,000 but I-1 - to translate it into English
0
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 5:38 PM UTC
Yo-ai ऎ Yo-Ai ऎ Yo-Ai ऎ Yo-Ai ऎ Yo-A ऎऎऎ | | Lovely Deirdre's love leads to love and sin for the carpenter of Iberia
Ask for Kids: AND MUCH or Bakadha IUS Air Gulf Air Walk away. Alan Gobo is Apple, Apple, Idlet, Usup 500, Gear smell, Iran, Iran HD Cicero, Wireless, Leaden Transformer Bealal Parakeet Health. Fiosrachadh or dhealaichte Ameire Reoich AG - (if applicable): Theodosius Theodosiou - Director of the brother of Shenoch Roskoff. I know you are in Sierra Leone, Mali, WA 1000 Media and South Africa from Central Asia Macle 2 Joan Majal Jaya Jaya Muya and others. We, we, us, us, us, us, us, us, us, us. Dirood is damaging it. 500 includes ASASAGAG diet food before or after balloon iAccess to Google Seafood Alan Gobo Apple Apple, edititis, iPatch 500, gearmailis, Iran, Iran HD Ciceron Wireless Loaded Transformers, Paracak Health, Fishchurch Success and Dhageilex Ameeraganaich AG - Magnesia: Teodosio Teodosio book director, Shench Roskoff, visited Sierra Leone, Mali, USA, WA 1000 or South Central Middle East Law, Atunlo 2 Yang Vandeim Vande - Canada I - Aggressive - Yang - Reyes - Canada WAA, Amirgarh AM Tharah AG - Richard Jung - Jelly version, lovely Deirdre's love leads to love and sin for the carpenter of Iberia, Iberia, Iberia, Iberia, Iberia, Iberia, Iberia, Food, Jade with Alan Gobo Apple, Idiotelech, UoPach 500, Giyarmel, Irian, Irian Ichde Cicero, Wireless, Leiden, Fiosrachhadh is not a forum in this world (great secret): Theodosios Theodosos - Sanaos Roskov Acting officer in charge. What is the purpose of sending emails in Sierra Leone, Mali, 1000 and the South Madia Disease Milele Disorder 2 Joint Jay and Apheki Patterns? Yang Thumas Customers, Canada, Canada Canada, Algorithm Algorithm. The Water of Orion Sapians, Muslimen, Mi Gobo Boop Japan, 500 Sonogram, Jack's Shirt, **** Death, Jerome C. Vanidimo, Wendy Builder - Yo Yo- iyann ​​Canada, Canada Dewu, dublova, DBL, Lova DAB, DAB Lova , Double, Double, Diablo Pivot, Devil, Animal, amiragarh and I'm glad to give you another chance to change - I hope the rich will **** 1,000 but I-1 - to translate it into English
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54
As she went skinny dipping with Amode her apple only her man there with fit of pleasure and free to chide in their sunny weather upon these hours would delve heat of summer along the Dee River so profound!
0
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 7:53 AM UTC
Deirdre
"The daily grind is so hard" He whined "Work and raising kids isn’t easy" She opined "Deirdre got your promotion" He snitched "I heard Dave got yours?" She ******* "I hate this **** job" He sighed "So look for another" She cried "Maybe tomorrow" He lied "You'll do it one day" She lied “Stop tapping your foot” He snapped “Stop looking at her” She flapped "What's for tea?" He assumed "Why ask me?" She fumed "Can't believe it's only Monday" He moaned "If I hear that again..." She intoned "Shall we get a takeaway?" He enlightened "Oh, I love you" She brightened “Love you too” He cooed “Kisses to you” She blew "See you tonight, love" He winked "You will, my lover" She pinked Midday watercooler meeting Frosty silence skin broken Domestic warfare so fleeting Morning car row forgotten Like work-a-day sheep At end of day meet, then Takeaway, home, sleep Up tomorrow, do it again The couple who work, rest and play together... ©pofacedpoetry (2018) Billy Reynard-Bowness - All rights reserved
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Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 8:04 AM UTC
Water-Cooler Marriage
This year’s WoolOn Creative Fashion event will feature some "exciting" new elements, but they are under wraps for now, organisers say. The event, which used to be held annually in October in conjunction with the Alexandra Blossom Festival, last year was separated from the festival to become a separate entity. No WoolOn was held last year and this year’s event had a new date, May 26-27, WoolOn chairwoman Clair Higginson said. A final call for entries was being made this week, and the closing date for entry forms had been extended by a week, until March 24, Ms Higginson said. Designers then had another month to complete the garments, which had to be handed in by April 27. Ms Higginson said this year’s WoolOn would be held in a new "industrial-style" venue in Alexandra, but organisers could not yet say where as consents were not in place. Other "exciting" new elements were being added to the event, but they were also being kept under wraps. "We’re trying to make better connections between the wool on the farm and the wool on the fashion catwalk. But just how we will do that is going to be a surprise." Rural Women New Zealand was the new naming sponsor of the event and WoolOn organisers were excited about the partnership, believing it would bring extra focus to the raw product the WoolOn garments were created from.All garments must be at least 75% wool and there are eight categories in the event, as well as an Under 23 Emerging Designer Award. The event will still feature a Friday night "First Look" event with a "fashion show feel", and a Saturday gala evening, when winners will be announced. This year’s judges are Deirdre Mackenzie, of Tauranga, who was one of the people to establish WoolOn in its present format; Simon Swale, a design lecturer at the Otago Polytechnic, in Dunedin; and designer Jaimee Smith, of Dunedin, who has her own fashion label, "Florence".Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
0
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 9:54 PM UTC
A fresh style for WoolOn fashion
This year’s WoolOn Creative Fashion event will feature some "exciting" new elements, but they are under wraps for now, organisers say. The event, which used to be held annually in October in conjunction with the Alexandra Blossom Festival, last year was separated from the festival to become a separate entity. No WoolOn was held last year and this year’s event had a new date, May 26-27, WoolOn chairwoman Clair Higginson said. A final call for entries was being made this week, and the closing date for entry forms had been extended by a week, until March 24, Ms Higginson said. Designers then had another month to complete the garments, which had to be handed in by April 27. Ms Higginson said this year’s WoolOn would be held in a new "industrial-style" venue in Alexandra, but organisers could not yet say where as consents were not in place. Other "exciting" new elements were being added to the event, but they were also being kept under wraps. "We’re trying to make better connections between the wool on the farm and the wool on the fashion catwalk. But just how we will do that is going to be a surprise." Rural Women New Zealand was the new naming sponsor of the event and WoolOn organisers were excited about the partnership, believing it would bring extra focus to the raw product the WoolOn garments were created from.All garments must be at least 75% wool and there are eight categories in the event, as well as an Under 23 Emerging Designer Award. The event will still feature a Friday night "First Look" event with a "fashion show feel", and a Saturday gala evening, when winners will be announced. This year’s judges are Deirdre Mackenzie, of Tauranga, who was one of the people to establish WoolOn in its present format; Simon Swale, a design lecturer at the Otago Polytechnic, in Dunedin; and designer Jaimee Smith, of Dunedin, who has her own fashion label, "Florence".Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
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11
A B&B in Brighton It’s only 30 quid We turn up at reception, We wonder why we did The place is dark and dismal The lobby stinks of death The owner nearly knocks us out With her stinking breath We have to share a bathroom With Deirdre & Stan **** stains on the toilet seat Skid marks in the pan The room is small & pokey There is a smell of damp The TV is about the size Of a 1st class postage stamp The landlord smells of cigarettes His wife smells of B.O. The whole place smells of fry-ups We just can’t wait to go
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May 24, 2020
May 24, 2020 at 6:07 AM UTC
A B&B in Brighton
The brook at the end of the garden Would gurgle and gush through the weeds, Would ripple and plash in the morning sun Like a spirit with spiritual needs, I’d play as a child with my paper boats As they twisted and twirled on the stream, Not knowing the danger my sister faced As she paddled barefoot in a dream. For under the water and in the weeds Was the face of a Grindylow, He’d stare long up at my sister’s legs From his weedbed, down below, I should have known and I should have warned If I’d known he lay down there, Ruling the brook from his silver throne But I didn’t, I declare. I didn’t then, till I saw one day His face in the willow shade, Reflected up on the water course Like a shadow God had made, He wore a sinister smile that turned The edge of his mouth to scorn, And eyes that pierced as Deirdre passed Her legs quite bare at the dawn. I said, ‘You walked by the river god And he stared right up your skirt,’ But Deirdre frowned, stared at the ground I thought that she must feel hurt. She kept on paddling in the brook Walked out by the willow tree, And two long arms then pulled her down Rose out of the brook, by me. I hadn’t the time to scream or cry Her hair went into the brook, Quick as a wink, she made no sound I dashed to the tree to look, And though the water was inches deep Its depth had taken the girl, Down through the weeds where the Dryads weep With the water starting to whirl. The brook still bubbles and gurgles there Will ripple and plash in the weeds, But I won’t go where I know below My sister lies in the reeds, She must have married the Grindylow For she never came back to see, If I was there in the morning air, If anything happened to me? David Lewis Paget
0
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 3:17 AM UTC
The Grindylow
The brook at the end of the garden Would gurgle and gush through the weeds, Would ripple and plash in the morning sun Like a spirit with spiritual needs, I’d play as a child with my paper boats As they twisted and twirled on the stream, Not knowing the danger my sister faced As she paddled barefoot in a dream. For under the water and in the weeds Was the face of a Grindylow, He’d stare long up at my sister’s legs From his weedbed, down below, I should have known and I should have warned If I’d known he lay down there, Ruling the brook from his silver throne But I didn’t, I declare. I didn’t then, till I saw one day His face in the willow shade, Reflected up on the water course Like a shadow God had made, He wore a sinister smile that turned The edge of his mouth to scorn, And eyes that pierced as Deirdre passed Her legs quite bare at the dawn. I said, ‘You walked by the river god And he stared right up your skirt,’ But Deirdre frowned, stared at the ground I thought that she must feel hurt. She kept on paddling in the brook Walked out by the willow tree, And two long arms then pulled her down Rose out of the brook, by me. I hadn’t the time to scream or cry Her hair went into the brook, Quick as a wink, she made no sound I dashed to the tree to look, And though the water was inches deep Its depth had taken the girl, Down through the weeds where the Dryads weep With the water starting to whirl. The brook still bubbles and gurgles there Will ripple and plash in the weeds, But I won’t go where I know below My sister lies in the reeds, She must have married the Grindylow For she never came back to see, If I was there in the morning air, If anything happened to me? David Lewis Paget
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49
i knew nothing but solitude-- and then the snow fell. from behind the windowpane, they entranced me: twirling on the wind, innocent and delicate, yet sharp as a star. then, a raven, jet black, prey in his beak, landed just outside; in the endless sea of white, he began to **** the creature on the snow, a scarlet slaughter. transfixed, i went into the storm. blood on my lips, raven wings on my back, snow in my veins, i let winter swallow me whole.
0
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 2:35 AM UTC
deirdre and naoise
a vain man's epithet sought her there that was in awe of a shaker and aspire and multiply from rudiments of mistress to shade her posey in a crochet in a second sequel hoy
0
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 10:16 AM UTC
Deirdre