"eileen" poems
Single red tulip
nods its lonely head
in a light Spring breeze,
satin petals flaring open
in a last show of beauty.
Eileen Auger
5/6/14
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 12:00 PM UTC
Ginger bap,redfox, bushfire, carrot top, jinger minjer,oh! My personal favourite, daywalker!
(c) eileen [email protected] 2010
Jan 26, 2010
Jan 26, 2010 at 6:10 AM UTC
Now, what the hell has just happened to me?!,
I went to sleep and felt quite human,
Alarm goes off, opened my eyes to see,
Two mounds where my little chest should be.
My ****** armpits have just sprouted some fuzz,
There's some hair where my lady garden was,
My beautiful blonde hair is all goopy and limp,
And my face has a likeness to a spotty chimp.
When i went to bed last night, i loved my dear mother,
Now, the thought of a cuddle makes me run and take cover,
Ant lanky Jimmy Owens used to repulse me, no end,
But now all i want is to be his girlfriend?!,
I suppose i will need to start wearing a bra,
And i'll have to smile through the taunts from grandma,
And my father will watch every move that i make,
And i'll have to conform, for my sanity's sake.
Well, tonight, when i lay down my spotty wee head,
I'll lie here and wait for the morning, with dread,
All these transformations, all yuk and all grease,
O lord, will i make it through in one piece?!.
c eileen mcgreevy 2009
Nov 20, 2009
Nov 20, 2009 at 5:50 AM UTC
I sit on my back stoop,
alone in the moonless dark
lit only by a window glowing
in my neighbor's new spa room.
Spikey tropical plants.
backlit by warm yellow light
are all I can see
from my vantage point
only yards away.
But my imagination runs
to visions of two lovers
delighting in their newest acquisition,
bathing in clouds
of fragrant steam,
a couple still together.
They have each other,
while I sit alone,
me minus you.
Eileen Auger
4/4/2010
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 12:07 AM UTC
Jocks
While lovely Eileen entertained us all,
with her wonderful words of lace and satin,
it made me want to answer the call,
make guys proud, like General Patton
the guys wear jocks to cloister their tools,
the perfect size so hard to find,
need to protect those precious jewels,
from errant kicks and grabs from behind
most are just elastic and cotton,
some are furry you get from **** shops,
absorb the sweat they smell quite rotten,
pick up with 1 finger or handles of mops
the backs are weird like gives you ******
when grabbed by the band and yanked real hard,
guys in gym like to snap like frozen veggie,
then try to get you on their dance card
cause now you can sing those real high notes,
your face quite large like you have the mumps,
squeal like girlie man being attacked by goats,
don't bend over you expose those rumps
but it is important to protect your package,
keep is safe for your favorite gal,
not real good to have swollen sackage,
not even if choice is a guy named Hal
Gomer LePoet...
Apr 10, 2010
Apr 10, 2010 at 7:54 AM UTC
It's the pose that will set all the boys from the men,
When they shed all their clothes and you see them, and then,
One of two things will happen upon seeing this pose,
You could run like the devil, or shed all your clothes,
Now ladies, you will know what i mean when i say,
If you dont know him well, then you must run away,
As such a bold move can only be tried,
By a man that you love, and a will to be tied, ahem,
But if ,luckily,like me your man is **** Welsh and keen,
Then you must mount that great band wagon, if you know what i mean,
This bold pose known as "The Naked Man" is centuries old,
So lets keep it alive ladies, dare to be bold,
Let's encourage our men to ditch all their clothes,
So that we can enjoy the lovely naked man pose,
Standing tall, chest out and hands on his hips,
Telling you to come over without moving his lips,
You can feel that you're blushing, and your hearts beating fast,
Bravo, naked man pose, bashfullness is dead, AT LAST!!!!
(c) eileen mcgreevy 2010
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 7:08 AM UTC
Fenola watched
as Eileen bathed.
She took in
the hand
moving
the lathered sponge
over the contours
of the body,
moving between ****
like some
venture ship of old,
moving down
the belly,
beneath the soapy water
to the pleasure dome,
then out again
around the neck
and under chin,
then whole body
over once again.
She knew that body well,
each inch of flesh,
each orifice,
each smell,
each loving touch.
Even the thought
pleased her
overmuch.
Eileen looked over
where Fenola sat,
on stool,
in bathrobe,
with feet
on mat.
Come on in,
she said,
room enough for two,
you rub my back,
I’ll rub yours
and other places too.
Fenola thought awhile,
took in her eyes
that gazed,
the smile
that spread,
the memory
of the afternoon
in bed,
the positions held
and played,
the *** ensuing.
Eileen pointed
to the soapy bath,
come in,
she said
with **** laugh.
Fenola stood up
from the stool,
disrobed,
set it aside,
stepped in the bath
and sat down,
the water engulfing.
Somewhere
from the other room,
Ravel played
from hifi speakers,
Bolero
or some such piece,
the sound touching
the bathroom walls
with steam and scent.
The girls rubbed
and scrubbed
and laughed
in soapy water,
each one
like a siren
of the sea
or Neptune’s daughter.
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 3:42 PM UTC
Joy is David Bowie blaring on my record player. Show tunes pouring from my speakers and my lungs. Dancing to Come on Eileen at two a.m. Getting lost in a library. How I revert to being seven every time I go to Disney World. Happiness is when my fan mail reaches my favorite broadway star and they send me a signed playbill. Breakfast for dinner. Giving to someone and asking nothing in return. Knowing every word to my favorite films. Learning new things and discovering old things. Kitty paws and fuzzy cat bellies. Getting packages in the mail. Beauty is in an old book that's been worn with someone's love of it's story. Strangers who smile at you. People talking about their passions. Museums. Owls in flight that look like mystical creatures. Fairy tales and the people who believe in them.
There's so much to smile about.
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 5:08 AM UTC
There's a stop off point we are brought when we die,
And we're taken there by noble men,
After our loved ones get so say their goodbyes,
We begin our last journey with them.
In a dignified manner, they wheel us away,
And with quiet respect, they prepare,
Gently into a room with our bodies they lay,
Make us look like our lives are still there.
Such a hush will descend on this room for a while,
As those bearers of clothes dress us up,
With respect in their hearts and professional grace,
The rose cottage becomes our final stop.
(c) eileen mcgreevy 2010
Jan 24, 2010
Jan 24, 2010 at 9:35 AM UTC
What's a guy to do, when he encounters you?,
It's not even your looks, your nose is like a hook,
And inner beauty is void, you leave me so annoyed.
You prey on young men, luring them to your den,
Then you **** their funds dry, and will bid them goodbye,
You just toss them aside, god woman where's your pride?,
I can see what you're doing, it's not me you're fooling,
My man's not for the taking, you make no mistaking,
He sees what you're like, he calls you the town bike.
So move along ***** my love's really fussy,
He likes girls with class, not some cheap ******
Avert your eyes elsewhere, look, there's a teen, over there....
(c) eileen mcgreevy 2009
Feb 4, 2010
Feb 4, 2010 at 4:45 AM UTC
I read a comment from a friend today
She said she liked my note
It was a poem about 4 certain words
A quick one that I wrote
She said she liked Old Fairy Stories
I didn't have a clue
Was she talking gay old pooftahs
Or just fairies dressed in blue
Liberace, Quentin Crisp
Have lots of tales to tell
But, was she speaking of these fairies
Or of ones that cast a spell ?
I wasn't sure of whom she spoke
Which fairy tales she liked
Was she a big fan of Tinkerbell
Or of big, princesses named Mike?
So, I figure I'll just wait and see
I'll write one for Eileen
It'll be the strangest Fairy Tale
That she has ever seen...
Once Upon a time.......
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 3:31 PM UTC
I was such a lonely person
And I had no distraction
I put on a face
For other’s satisfaction
My friends were fake
Was I a mistake?
And my name
Is Eleanor Rigby.
I am lost
Floating in a tin can
There’s no hope for survival
When people hear my words
My mind is gone
My mind is scattered like the stars
Still,
My eyes shine as bright as the sun
My heart feels blue
And there’s nothing you can do
And my name
Is Major Tom
Music is my soul
I am an eighth note
Bouncing along a musical staff
The guitar strings intertwine with my heart strings
I’ve got punk rocker vibes
I jam
I twist
I shout
And my name
Is Sheena
He loves me
The way he looks at me
In the moment
I mean everything
His thoughts
He’s confessed
And my name
Is Eileen
My support is endless
My love life brought me down
But my friends lift me up
When I found my one
My friends supported me
And my name
Is Jude
Take off the mask
Remove the disguise
Who am I?
You’re in for a surprise
I am the fixer.
The lover.
The keeper.
I am the ballet dancer
Graceful, yet vulnerable
I am 13, wide-eyed
And naive
I am 30, dealing with more
Than a kid should
Ever see
As time passes
You discover yourself
Become one with yourself
Love yourself
Or hate yourself
As time passes
You grow
Into a brand new being
As time passed
It’s almost as if
My brain said,
“I’ll have sadness
With a bit of
Happy on the side.”
But that has passed.
Time
Has passed.
My brain is
Eating up that
Happy side dish like
There’s no tomorrow.
Now I smile like
I don’t care.
I live in a world
So unaware
Of what lies ahead
And sometimes
Of what fell behind
And my name
Is Sarah.
Dec 21, 2016
Dec 21, 2016 at 6:39 PM UTC
Lying on the beach
Surrounded by murmurs
Of conversation
Children laughing at play
And the soft rustle above
Of heart-shaped leaves
Dancing in a brisk breeze.
All once familiar
Yet now foreign,
It occurs to me ,
That I no longer fit,
Have ceased belonging
In that comfortable way
Of former times
When you loved me
I no longer fit
In the world of couples
Though they kindly try
To include me
If only occasionally
It just isn't the same
Any longer
Feeling fragmented
I dole out bits of myself
Almost stingily
Guarding carefully
My inmost thoughts
Smiling as if all is
As it should be
But it isn't
And maybe never was
When you were here
I felt safe and whole
For the first time ever
Secure, wanted, needed
Now I am a puzzle piece
Of an odd shape
That no longer fits
In the larger scheme
Of humanity
Perhaps I have lived
All these years
In a mindset
Of childish fantasies
Now suddenly dashed
Like letting go unwillingly
Of Santa and the Easter Bunny
Maybe this is Life
Seen without benefit
Of rose-colored glasses
Maybe, maybe not
Eileen Auger
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
EDNA: Please sit down, William. How are you today?
WILLIAM: Fine thank you, Edna. How are you? I read that you were having trouble with your piles.
EDNA: Mind your own ******* business. I'm doing the interviewing here.
WILLIAM: Sorry, Edna.
EDNA: Right, now I hear you are a wife-swapper. How did that start?
WILLIAM: Well, Edna, after I had been married a few years, I got fed up with ******** the same **** and so I started wandering a bit. And my ******* wife found out and broke my leg with a sledge hammer.
EDNA: That must have hurt.
WILLIAM: Of course it ******* well hurt. Not only that, it made ******** impossible for months.
EDNA: [laughing sympathetically] And then?
WILLIAM: Well, once the leg mended, since I still fancied a bit of spare nookie, I suggested to my lady wife, we try some wife-swapping.
EDNA: How did she react to your mentioning swinging?
WILLIAM: Swinging? You mean life my wife's fat *******
EDNA: I'll ignore that. Get on with the story for Christ's sake. You'll bore my readers' **** off.
WILLIAM: As I was saying, she was quite keen on it. In fact she said 'As long as the geezers involved have a bigger **** than yours, I'm up for it'.
EDNA: Yes, I heard your **** was small, William.
WILLIAM: Anyway, we joined the Maidstone Wife-Swappers Club the next week and have been swapping ever since.
EDNA: Ever since? How long ago was that, then?
WILLIAM: About five years ago, Edna. The MWSC meets once a month, there's usually quite a few couples there and we go most times, especially if we've heard there's some new members, if you get my meaning.
EDNA: Members? Members? That's a good one. You should be on the stand-up circuit with material like that, William.
[Edna and William laugh gaily]
EDNA: Tell me, do you swap with only one couple at these swingers parties? Or do you mingle, so to speak? Roughly many couples have you swapped with, then?
WILLIAM: As a result of our participation in at the Maidstone Wife-Swappers meetings, I have shagged 84 women and Eileen, my dear wife, has been ****** by 245 men.
EDNA: You can go now.
WILLIAM: Pardon me?
EDNA: **** off.
[Interview terminated at this point.]
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
Wrought-wide eyes from catching clouds on the safety of our backs
Who's lifting who dried-up with the fossils, tucked away at Jack's
Can you capture the oily maze of Perla, Gary, Glen AND Dee?
We should cap the treasure trove. Just one shell. Alright... three.
Passenger mats drowned long ago in quartets of sandy shoes
They're coming around to dukkah, but beetroot's an ongoing feud.
We'll find our way back to purple-brown after art class in year nine
Until then just squeeze my hand when they see **** every time.
Curse words stowed beneath our necks, cellared with the red wine.
Pull binoculars out in twenty years to seek parrots in sun spines.
Trick them into dusking walks, the promise of ice cream at Kateri
Squealing across Eileen's golden grain, I hope they pick Rasberry.
He swirls the sand beneath him and burrows his sweet brow.
She builds bridges for fairies and writes names in stick-crayon.
I'll say they're just like us, one day when they can stand it least
Until then their just like you dreamboat, floating down my east.
Feb 15, 2021
Feb 15, 2021 at 10:39 PM UTC
The sirens,
They always make it seem worse,
But not this time!
Relief was felt in the house,
They knew,
Reality kicked in,
She wasn't walking away from this one!
That eerie silence,
The calm before the storm,
Then,
Panic, tubes, masks,
Certainly not the norm,
Nosey neighbours,
Sandwiches,
Condolensces exchanged,
The prying looks,
The stuff she took,
The pity about her age,
Saddened mingled anger at her actions,
Neglection of left over siblings,
Endless feelings of blame, and guilt,
The stupid, senseless ramblings,
But letting go, in just a while,
She'll leave this house for ever,
Her self destruction, struck a blow..
(c) eileen mcgreevy 2009
Nov 20, 2009
Nov 20, 2009 at 5:15 AM UTC
The Self That Used to Be
It is entirely possible
that no one will ever know
no one will ever see
the self I used to be
a long time ago,
the self that is still me
but hidden for now.
That flirty eye-twinkle
and teasing laugh
lie tucked away
like a piece of fine jewelry
in its velvet lined box
waiting silently
to shine on the next
suitable occasion
which may never come.
Eileen Auger
9/13/09
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC
The moon's pale face regards the nighttime skies
As the stars pass by on their ancient quest.
Silent shadows glide 'cross the ground
From clouds that move and make no sound.
Nighttime is when her spirit will rise
To ever wander and never know rest.
Eileen was the name of the red-haired girl
Who lived in the castle near the sea.
It was the only home she'd ever known,
This ancestral fortress made of stone.
It was a simple and tranquil world,
The only place she wanted to be.
The castle was home for ages long past
For her father, his father, and beyond.
Their memory lived within the grey-stoned walls,
Their deeds were remembered in each of the halls.
The castle was safe; its walls held fast.
Yet its fate lay within a wizard's wand.
Galyn was a wizard of dark renown,
Winding his way from times of ancient yore.
Great was the power at his command;
Deep was the knowledge he kept at hand.
Few were the secrets he had not found,
As he labored at his art behind a locked door.
Standing on a tower's balcony on a grey, windy day
Eileen could feel the sea's breath on her skin.
Galyn would watch her standing there,
The wind playing and dancing with her hair.
Though for ages he walked a solitary way
The sight caused a stirring deep within.
From ancient ages he searched in shadows dark
Seeking answers in places unseen and unknown.
Yet this power was one never felt before,
Twisting his emotions and piercing him to his core.
It ignited within him a powerful spark,
A burning desire to make her his own.
Eileen never e'en thought, not once in her life
That she could hold sway over a wizard's heart.
Her youthful innocence knew naught of such a thing.
She dreamt of knights slaying dragons, or even of marrying a king.
She could not fathom Galyn wanting her for a wife
Be it through trickery, treachery, guile, or blackest art.
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 11:30 PM UTC
His uncle **** asked Benedict
if he would mow the lawn
of the old lady at the cottage,
which he did, then clean out
the cowsheds at the farm,
which he did, then take some eggs
to the local shop, which he did.
It was a hot day, he felt a thirst
so went to pub called the Battleaxe
and ordered a pint and sat and drank
it slow outside in the sun. He thought
of the clarinet he'd brought with him,
the jazz he played in the front lounge,
which his aunt Eileen said was very good.
Do you still have and play your accordion?
he asked her. No, she said not now;
I've not played for years. He remembered
her playing and singing Goodnight Irene
on it when he had stayed as a kid.
Long ago now, he thought, finishing his pint.
He also mused on his recent visited
to see the MJQ in the City and afterwards
he met the band on the coach at the back.
Asked questions, got autographs.
Then another visit to the City with his
two cousins to watch them do their martial arts
and afterwards showed them judo moves
he and his friends had done a few years before.
He took his empty glass to the counter
of the pub and walked out in the sunshine
wondering what his uncle **** would have
lined up for him next. There was talk of
digging trenches in the churchyard some
evening to lay pipes to the church and there
was that mowing of the grass he'd been
shown the other day. Yes, he'd do that now,
he thought, while the sun was out, the grass dry.
The mower was in a shed at the back, one
of those modern jobs, less work, less elbow grease,
less sweat. But also, those peas to pick
and shuck for his aunt. He wasn't done with his
chores for his keep, for six weeks, least not yet.
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 3:23 AM UTC
i.
you wonder if somewhere there's a voodoo doll with your face stitched on
(and if it's covered in pins since god knows that would be the logical explanation)
who goes away in winter? he'd laughed and laughed
-- and in spite of yourself, you let him
you very patiently explain that with european winters
*'the sun's still out but it's no cancer risk
and the air's still hot at night but it doesn't try to choke you
and what's more cathartic than a spanish caravan park where you're serenaded by crickets?'*
playing it off as a quirk, not an excuse to be anywhere else
he'll never know the comfort in being
little more than a passing stranger
a face on a street or in a window or a car
transient, fleeting; the short-term memory lasts roughly thirty seconds
so you're a stranger in a yellow polo and then you're nobody:
it's the circle of life, but compact and mildly less terrifying
ii.
unexplored streets and brains are bigger than home:
you can only be your true self when you are not at home
eyerolling, rotting from air pollution and complaining about first-world problems
you're hardly ill at mind but you're jaded and sad and sufficiently middle-class
so when in doubt, you pack a bag and think nothing else of it
you buy the guardian and a kitkat from a sullen newsagent
whose hands look like your grandmother's
(why do you notice this stuff?)
the poor guy's only middle-aged surely - he can keep the change
counting coins is weird and confusing anyway
happy flying says the hostess with a ribbon around her neck
she means it and you know exactly why she'd taken the job on:
fixed addresses are awfully limiting
and the swarms of crying babies are probably worth it
to get to go everywhere EVERYWHERE
iii.
package holiday dj digs out his usual and plays 'come on eileen' for an aging crowd
your eyes are upturned to a foreign sky and you breathe warmth
the stars are out and you are floating quite carelessly at the top of a swimming pool
happy birthday
May 7, 2018
May 7, 2018 at 3:04 PM UTC
The years of memories
pile up like cord-wood
stacked randomly,
a Jenga game of blocks
balanced precariously,
verging on toppling
when a piece near the bottom
is removed too carelessly.
Memories must dwell in the past,
forever in the life of the mind.
They cannot be pulled out,
touched and held,
nor lived over and over again,
except perhaps in dreams.
Eileen Auger
3/22/14
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
I rode behind him, ******** on a handsome steed,
My head against his strong, fragrant, sweaty back,
I'm sure, as we reached the woods with speed,
That he deliberately rode off the beaten track.
A cabin stood not fat from us,my heart began to race,
My body ached for his soft wet tongue, to slip beneath my lace,
The lake was like an ice rink, not a ripple to be seen,
I fantasised my open legs would float him in between.
Dismounting with such grace, he held out his arms so strong,
And swept me down upon the grass, inhibitions gone,
We shared each moment tenderly at first, with touch and taste,
The water hid our mouths and hands,my chastity he chased,
The ripples increasing faster now, our passion mounting so,
And breathless panting i let out, while learning what he showed,
The fluid love between us seeped from me, and then from him,
Explosions i have never felt before, and never since,
We dressed eachother gently, taking in eachothers beauty,
And off he carried me toward the cabin, intent on marital duty..
"But That's Another Story"
(c) eileen mcgreevy 2009
Nov 20, 2009
Nov 20, 2009 at 5:30 AM UTC
Waiting on. The train to see you
Bored, **** coffee and a bacon roll
There is something hollow. Empty.
Like the Starbucks take out mug.
Of course I loved you, love you.
But we lived so far away.
Sweden, Ireland, Switzerland
And then when we were close
I was at my uninterested awkward years
When you don't want to visit your Gran
Now I see this precious woman
Whom I have not often seen.
She is old, frail, and may not know me
I am a man with a life and business.
Where do we connect?
In the bones? In the skin or in the eyes?
I'll show you photos, I hope you will be interested.
What do you say to an old woman
Who you barely know,
but has played a key role in your existence?
Who you feel a connection to like the seabed between two islands.
But you know precious little about.
Eileen, yes that is your name.
You used to like Black Magic chocolates,
But apparently you don't these days.
Your hip is broken
But hopefully getting better.
And you knitted me a duck when I was small.
I was the youngest, thats why. People said.
You were my Nannie, my precious Gran
And I have come to give you some love and pay some respect.
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 9:41 AM UTC
MAN= "I thought you thtew those boots out"
In other words="I love your legs in those boots"...
MAN="You get to drive the new car tonight baby",
In other words="I'm getting smashed tonight",
MAN="That **** at the office had a ladder in her tights, how tacky",
In other words="My new secretary has great legs",
WOMAN="My god, look at the state of my hair",
In other words="You haven't noticed my new hairdo",
WOMAN="You look so tired tonight sweety",
In other words="You're not getting any tonight mister",
WOMAN=" *** that blue shirt you love is too tight, i'll buy a new one",
In other words="I mixed the wash, your blue shirt is pink"...
Woman, Man, man Of Woe? I dont know. Let's just get along HMMMM????
(c) eileen mcgreevy 2009
Nov 22, 2009
Nov 22, 2009 at 6:51 AM UTC
On Tuesday,
I drank tea with a skeleton
named Eileen.
Her fingers were long,
and her lips were drawn
like a frown, unable to move.
It was a sad sight to see,
and it convinced me to be happy,
now matter the weather,
and she said --
If I were to die,
which I will, one day,
I would like to pass in a forest,
for surely it is curious
for a life to end
where so many
begin.
So we laid her body in a bed of daisies
and painted her eyelids with raspberry tears
and coated her lips with the Queen's honey
and covered her naked corps with ferns
so that she finally experienced the embrace of a Mother.
Cause she said --
If I were to die,
which I will, one day,
I would like to pass in a forest,
for surely it is curious
for a life to end
where so many
begin.
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC