"ethel" poems
Well let’s peek into the kitchen of Lucy and Ethel to see the baking of this 7 Layer Cake
On cue in take
Ricky is having a party in his home regarding his 10th Anniversary in managing the Night Club called “A little bit of Cuba”
He wanted something fancy
Did he say fancy?
There’s no telling what Lucy has baked into that cake
Lucy and Ethel are busy baking away
But somehow that cake is going to cause people to make a quick getaway
Now remember, this is not the Pillsbury bake off, but should say “Revenge with back off”
At this point, you are allowed to cough
The cake is in the pan and ready for the oven
As the cake is baking, Lucy and Ethel are entertaining the guest
This is not at any one’s request
While Lucy talks about Hollywood and show business, do you smell something burning?
Luc y shouts, “My cake!”
But was it too late?
Lucy and Ethel rushed to the oven
The cake was half burned and didn’t rise
Why am I not surprised?
Meanwhile, what is Lucy and Ethel going too serve for dessert?
Lucy says, “I have a plan”
Let’s open a can of fruit cocktail and add it inside the burned cake
But Ethel stats with, “How will the guest respond?”
Lucy proclaims, “Who cares, they can’t know the cake was burned
Well the dessert will be served
Think on eat at your own risk being observed
As Lucy and Ethel serve the cake, suddenly one of the guest get sick from eating the cake
Lucy of course starts to cry
Yet the baking that cake was a good try
Eat at your own risk said I.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
Abigail, Abigail, keeps haunting me
I don’t remember when it started
Has to be the first seed of love
That planted Abigail in my heart
And etched it there for good….
In Martha I saw Abigail, in Ethel
In them all I chased Abigail
They were good, all of them
Flawless, spotless, free from blame
Lovable, dependable, transparent….
Yet I kept seeking Abigail
With a hallucinatory torment!
Did ever my eyes touch her once?
In a dream woven with fleeting romance
Or her face shone once in the moon
And melted as dew drops in the dazed dark!
Abigail my perpetual phantom
I neither get her nor fathom
I age, Abigail is ageless
Always there, but beyond embrace!
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 2:37 AM UTC
TO SHED MY TEARS
I'm sitting on the curb in late July between Al's
Barbershop and Harry's Hardware watching ants
making their way to the gutter where they disappear.
Busby, Nebraska is not a big town--in fact, it's not
even a small town--in fact, it's not even a town. It's
three blocks long, but Ethel's Cafe is open for break-
fast and lunch. And most importantly, it's on the
way to the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation located
in the remote southwestern corner of South Dakota
where I'm headed on foot. I've been to Pine Ridge a
number of times. Something calls me there from time
to time. Not sure what it is--kind of like a spiritual
whisper. Only got 23 more miles to get there. I walk
wherever I go--reminds me of Wordsworth's THE
WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH US. I say I'm going
to Pine Ridge, but actually I'm headed to Wounded
Knee Cemetery, about ten miles east of Pine Ridge,
where so many of the Lakota Sioux men, women,
and children were slaughtered, then buried, the
last massacre of indigenous people by the U. S.
Army in 1890. I sit on the ground and cry and cry.
The dry grasses soak up my tears as fast as they
hit the ground.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Dec 2, 2022
Dec 2, 2022 at 1:11 AM UTC
She calls herself Ethel Du May if you were to ask
But it's not her name, not really,
Even she's not sure what it is anymore
Metal framed glasses with a wonky arm
Skin like crepe paper coated in a layer of polyfilla
With rouge a plenty upon her cheeks, her lips and teeth
Her petite frail frame drowning in gaudy colours and faux fur
Rows upon rows of beads wrapped tightly round her neck
Long pointed red talons, the only decoration upon her delicate fingers
Sitting at the bus stop awaiting the number 21 to town
The time, quarter past nine, she sits and waits
Pressing her menthol cigarette to her lips and tutting looking at her watch
A designer handbag placed upon her lap filled with secrets
Boiled sweets, an address book, anais anais perfume
A hip flask of sherry, metal handcuffs and a spare pair of knickers
She smiles at strangers, at no one, at memories
She's lived a life you only read about in storybooks
And poems
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 4:23 PM UTC
Let me tell you about Drew Barrymore:
First of all, she got an early start on self-awareness,
To wit: her breakout role as Gertie in
Steven Spielberg's E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial,
And quickly became one of Hollywood's
Most recognized child actresses,
Going on to establish her self to this freaking day.
From wit: Yeah, sure, she got an early start,
She literally grew up inside her movies.
And if we had ever had a
Shirley Temple of our own generation,
Drew is it.
Simply put:
Drew is sweetness personified.
N'est-ce pas?
But Habitat Hollywood needed more,
Must dwell on the Barrymore name,
Pounding that angle,
Sledging the dynastic anvil,
Forging consensus:
It’s in her genes.
It’s that sangue royale,
It’s in her blood.
All those Fairbanks & Randolphs,
Harrisons & Blyths,
Palazzoli & Giofredi . . . ***
That’s where you get your looks,
You little guinea ****
That olive oil & garlic,
Enhancing that gilded
Barrymore Blood!
It must have been an
Early pink thrill for you, Drew,
Seeing all those
Doors spread wide open--
Widespread like a ****** legs--
Career barrier walls,
Inhibitions crumbling.
What a pleasant realization!
“I am a member of a
Multi-Generation
Theatrical Dynasty.”
And going even further back than
John, Ethel & Lionel, Babaloo.
We’re talking the British Stage here,
We’re talking Legitimate Theater,
As in: Tread those boards, GB Shaw!
Which brings me to my point:
Drew’s had a long time to get over
That Diva
(Louie Prima) Donna thing.
She knows who she is.
She’s comfortable out here,
Way out here in the
So-called real world.
Out a monk’s her environment at-large.
Query: heredity or environment?
Always.
To wit: It was always
Her habitat doing the molding--
From Wit: *******
It’s in her ****** DNA.
In her freaking genes:
Which is precisely
Where I’d like to be right now,
My cherished,
My sweet Drew:
In your freaking jeans.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 7:28 PM UTC
Her love it knows no boundaries
I buy for her a cat
My darling keeps a basking shark
In her woolly hat
How many sticklebacks
Are beat up by the frogs ?
My dearest keeps her worn out stones
Underneath her logs
Her touch is like ...a million tons
of rubble from the moon
To charm a thousand dragonflies
Like buckshot as they swoon
I walked across the ocean
To breed her for a while
Out in the Antarctic
Zebra's que-ing..for a mile !!
My darling sweetlips Octopus
Oh come and marry me ?
But dog said " I FORBID IT " !!
So i'll have to wait and see
Or shack up with a Tortoise
Whose name is Ethel bytheweight
I think i have... should go now
Cos ...she always makes me late !!
I set adrift my chocolate log
on seas of peas and cream
laughing as my head fell off
I dreamt...the strangest dream
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 1:41 PM UTC
Part One
Ethel, you wouldn’t believe it,
I don’t even need your binoculars to see
The buffalo’s horns,
And the bear’s teeth.
But your binoculars can’t see
Through mountains
And concrete dams
To our Saturday morning visits
With hissing cats and white washed walls
And your eyes can’t see
Through hanging laundry
And power lines
To my morning visits with
Trumpeting elk and white water rafts
When I come home and tell you,
I won’t be whole anymore
Part Two
I went home
Not to our house
To our home
But it was gone
Nobody noticed
Playgrounds turned patios
Beaches turned deserts
But they were gone
And nobody noticed
Girl turned woman
Boy turned sailor
And Alex, nobody noticed
That we were gone
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 11:15 PM UTC
Joe and Rose’s Children
Joseph’s plane was shot down near England during WWII
John was assassinated in 1963 of November Twenty-Two
Rose Marie Mary had a lobotomy because she was acting aggressively
Kathleen, wed Wm J Robt Cavendish and she later died unexpectedly
Eunice married a great man, Lieutenant Robert S. Shriver
Patricia wed actor Peter Lawford, their marriage wasn't forever
Robert wed Ethel Skakel, he was another that was assassinated
Jacqueline Bovier felt sure that the Kennedy’s might be hated
Married to Stephen Edward Smith
Jean was wed to him until his death
Edward (Ted) late one night drove off a bridge at Chappaquiddick
Reporting the next day about Mary Jo Kopechne was quite horrific
Ted was married twice, first to Virginia Joan Bennett 1958–1982
And then next until his death Victoria Anne "Vicki" Reggie too
Copyright 2013
All Rights Reserved
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 4:06 PM UTC
On the night of women, Yoruyoru Yoruyoru Yoruyoru,
a business war in the United States in the war,
but the war in the United States, is so well known
that she had written in blue and white jewelry
on the approach of the Soviet Union.
European glass of power to the woman, as the eyes of the East
and 3 from the heart of the dead from the heart in the world in the mirror
in the house is completely lost to me:
The latest party Adult RomeDoor.png Christian warrior FLINT
Hillside Minnesota is a give and take as rise Intolerantia as a little kid;
Wind of the fame of the rich wildlife Yokuza pieces, a company
in the United States of eczema, eczema, 7 days, in Greece,
and brought him to be, as regards the name of the cocktail to the way
of the true honor of John the Baptist | is the stone which was beautiful,
he was sitting up against Babylon, to fly about;
Window in the window is the feeling of the women
littering the family tree,
every half-Australian stripper, public nudist camp scientist
who lives in the Philosophy of Science, said,
"It's more a crime to support a criminal rather than a world
which is plagued by the face of a Panegyric, |
who is supposed to campaign |
in world history. "in fact, I was in a military camp in the Tanaka Establishing a conceptual Ivana as a Localizer dancing
Localizer, what charming Chinese dollars to play a full-time
unknown dancing silver and long-term debt financing institution
as the optics go false on the original charge of ****
and Ethel 500 Sisun thinks it should be a hot girl playing
with Einstein's first entry into the jack jack jacket USMC Mild Toes
and muscle fat o' credit mock abduction can bring
Ten ten ten ten flute
playing Aka Tuberculosis with the Arab world,
you walk down to play
the game, and the game continues, A drug
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 5:26 AM UTC
Tom and Jerry, Laurel and Hardy,
Batman and Robin, Fred and Barney,
Frodo and Sam, Bert and Ernie too,
Tom Sawyer and Huck, adventures anew.
Lone Ranger and Tonto, Snowy and Tintin,
Chip and Dale, Snoopy and Woodstock grin,
Archie and Jughead, Holmes and Watson wise,
Lucy and Ethel, their antics arise.
Larry, Curly, and Moe, a comical trio,
Mutt and Jeff, Luke and Han Solo,
Lois and Clark, a super pair indeed,
These bonds of friendship, on screen we read.
But as the credits roll and the pages close,
A question lingers, as doubt grows:
Are these friendships, so perfect and true,
Reflections of bonds between me and you?
Real friendships are messy, they ebb and flow,
Not always in sync, not always aglow.
Yet in their imperfection, we find
A beauty that's real, one of a kind.
So cherish your friends, both near and far,
For in life's story, that's who you are.
Fiction may inspire, but reality's test
Proves true friendship is earth's real quest.
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 6:31 PM UTC
In "The Shootist", J.B. Books is not feeling up to *****
He has cancer. What are the concerns
of a man dying.
To die
commensurate with the way he lived his life.
Books dies in a gunfight.
McIntosh dies in the desert, under a broken wagon,
fighting Indians.
Norman Thayer will die of heart failure
by the side of his wife, Ethel.
Two police officers
die investigating a stolen moped at a gas station
in the Bronx.
One buys it between the eyes, the other in the back.
The killer out on early parole
from a manslaughter rap.
The DA blames the judge, the judge blames the parole board,
and the board says the jails are overcrowded.
What should I be doing, old turtle.
Devote myself to re-order the world
or crawl off to a lonely spot and preserve myself.
We are trying
to educate everyone to their individual capacities
and see that all are fed, clothed and sheltered adequately.
Because the suffering of one citizen makes suffering
for another, the slow death of one sometimes makes
the sudden ****** of another.
There is this
black rock we live on and its lovely mantle of green.
It is all that is perfect. And everything of it is
perfect that respects its integrity. On the subway
I was amused to find, hidden in the confused
mass of anonymous, bleak graffiti, unseen
by the studied, expressionless passengers,
in pink, delicate script, vertically written,
the word *****
People are the element I live in.
The world is pushy, we are bone,
the numbers of us overwhelm.
It is going to be hot again soon
and the Bronx will actively resent it.
Books dies in Carson City,
only two or three people will miss him at all.
He died alone as he lived,
with his enemies.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 11:22 AM UTC
A day off the map
no lighthouse hikes
no ferry tickets in my pocket
just the cabin walls
the pines breathing slow outside
I roll up green quiet
let the smoke curl through
the screen door cracks
the air tastes like lakewater
and cedar
a chapter or two, maybe more
the book heavy in my lap
but light enough to drift away from
when Ethel Cain's voice
slips into my ears clean and close
like she's laying right beside me
no rush, no reason
the world can go on spinning its errands
while I stay here
in bed,
half ****** half reading,
all the way alive
in the hush of Tobermory
Aug 28, 2025
Aug 28, 2025 at 11:08 AM UTC
When you go
just so you know
I'm going too.
Couldn't stay without you
no day is day without you.
It just wouldn't do
to be alone
without you.
Loneliness would be the face
here in this place
where the sun always shone.
When you are gone?
And I will care to the end
until you're sent off to spend the love that I will send
to you.
Day can't be day anywhere without you.
I don't care
if we don't share the last sweet
we will meet
in the time we are due.
Life lived with you was the ultimate gift.
One shift of perspective
One lift of our eyes
and the sun will rise slowly on
Heaven.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 9:38 AM UTC
gets used to trying to nurse a barstool
that' s what we do in these parts
and chaw 'baccy and spit let loose
epitaphs and curse a bit
down here 'round Clayhatchee.
Yet most of us gooden's ya' may say
'cept 'n Joe Bob and his two brothers
both named Billy. ' course Mary Jane
her problem an' all, see , wasn't her fault, really
she got turned out young and had to make the
groceries, when she was thirteen. Now, we laugh, but
don't really, well a little, when Ole' Ethel , the snaggle toothed
hag says she , Mary Jane , has a mattress strapped to her back.
It's right tough near 'bouts year round here, and
we laugh when we can . No bad spirits we wish any
ole' soul, least wise Mary Jane.
'cause what trouble and shenanigans
would Joe Bob and his two brothers cause
if Mary Jane weren't 'round?
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 12:43 PM UTC
Lucy just found out that she must enter a baking contest
But Lucy wants to impress the Judge’s being her guest
She needs help and it is Ethel at her request
Lucy broadly states, “I have a plan”
Something is always at her command
Lucy tells Ethel since you know how to bake, it will be your oven in the bake
I will be the winner in the take
What Lucy cooks you don’t want to know
But lets continue on with the show
Lucy and Ethel are busy in the kitchen with their bake
The judge’s have arrived early, but is it too late?
Lucy entertains the Judge’s in her living room with Ethel
Suddenly there was a smell of burned smoke
The guest were beginning to choke
Lucy and Ethel immediately ran to the kitchen as the cake was slightly
Burned and went flat
Judge’s eyes raised with amazed and thinking, what was that?
Lucy being saddened by the surprise
She was now caught in her own realize
As we leave Lucy to think, it was an effort in try and Lucy being alone in her own cry.
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 8:51 PM UTC
It wasn’t much fun to be sick as a child.
I’m sure you would agree.
One thing, however, made it worthwhile:
LUCY on TV.
Morning reruns of I LOVE LUCY
Were a daily must.
And if the TV was out of order?
Oh, no! That was a bust!
How many years we watched Lucy,
Well, it’s hard to say.
I watched her up through my high school years;
But I’d even watch her today.
Every summer morning and every
Winter and spring vacation
Meant a daily dose of Lucy.
We watched with utter elation.
So what if we’d seen a particular show
Ten times in the past.
Each time watching I LOVE LUCY
Was just as fun as the last.
Watching her get into a jam
In every episode
Was exactly what we looked forward to—
And then watching Ricky explode.
Just the look on Lucy’s face
Was all that it would take
To make us all break out in laughter—
So much that our stomachs would ache.
There was Vitameatavegamin
Or Lucy stomping on grapes
Or Lucy and Ethel in the chocolate factory;
The two were always in scrapes.
It didn’t matter how silly the plot—
How corny, how dumb or inane—
Laughing at Lucy would lighten the heart.
Who needed food for the brain?
If there was a snag, Lucy would find it
And chaos would ensue.
And once the cat was out of the bag,
She had some “splaining” to do.
We knew the plots backwards and forwards;
We knew the dialogue by heart.
But that didn’t matter; we would still laugh
As Lucy’s schemes fell apart.
We owe a lot to Lucy and friends.
There’s a lot to be said
About growing up laughing at Lucy
And Ricky and Ethel and Fred.
- by Bob B
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 7:25 AM UTC
The tour bus of heaven.
I was told that when I die.
I should take the tour bus of heaven.
They told me I would see a lot of stars.
I would see Ricky, Lucy, Fred and Ethel.
There might be a chance that I could see Roy Roger and Dale Evens.
Riding through the clouds.
They said the bus would go by Andy and Barney with aunt Be.
As you ride down the street they said, look for Curly,Larry and Moe.
Always doing something crazy.
The last stop will be a big one, for there will be a group of stars,
Hank, Tex, Bill and Minnie pearl.Country music finest.
So make sure to take that tour bus to the stars in heaven.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
Dear Ethel Cain
The surgeon puts an egg in my son's mouth then shoots herself. On earth, we refuse the naked. The angels think we're weird for losing teeth. The last time I wrote sick was the first time the television marked the last time we'd seen a bug. It's not true but here we say all circles are male. Longing is a cult created by birth. I don't care. Belief invented your mother and my. The past dies of narration.
Feb 9, 2025
Feb 9, 2025 at 12:51 PM UTC
A mister came by to song a good sing
He didn’t have nickels for dimes
And tunes shed freely to come in and ring
For all the fun woody old times.
He fiddled a fiddle to pluck a red truck
And song out his words by a stile
Some boys run about in their own little luck
And saw mister forge a small smile.
Canary a fairy of small little ladies
Crowd about a shop selling oak hay
In their own Ethel minds of small little babies
On wooden red cradles they lay.
“But come one and all to the man playing south”
Said a poster girl out with a cry
“Say he’d come on and in with a gun to the mouth
And we’re all having orange pumpkin pie.”
I come to the pass with a glass in my hand
Saw the mister grin granny o’swong
And felt the glass fall to the crummy white sand
Heard the shards crawl a fangled new song.
“You caused me a pain to my heart with my name”
I tell mister out with a voice
But he played on regardless of no having claim
Of the music playing out of his choice.
Mister my sister you cause quite a blister
But I’m not giving up quite so soon
Cause I’m staying right here with my girl and I kissed her
On the forests sprouting up after noon.
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 10:10 PM UTC
Thirty years ago
Ethel in Australia said:
"We used to have new outfits
for Easter, and you knew it would be fine.
Now you don't know what to buy
or when
since weather has become
inconstant, unreliable"
2019
It's mid June in England
should be warm and sunny
It's raining and I'm cold
Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 6:47 AM UTC
How many years since
Since I saw your eyes gleam
You spoke clear, to mince
your words to cheerful themes.
A thousand generations
Brought your light to bear,
But going beyond it's station;
Age causes the mind to wear.
You wanted to stop.
I know you did.
I didn't want you to drop
Into the night so placid.
But now you're gone,
For a decade at last,
I hear your funeral was 'tres bon'
But I just wanted the past.
My father got mad
That my eyes were so dry,
My heart seeming glad,
But God I wish I could cry.
My heart was emptied
And my soul torn asunder,
And so my grief was muted;
One last final blunder.
It's been years upon years,
Since I grinded under your pestle.
To remember grief, I was told by my peers,
So now I'll remember you, my great grandma Ethel.
Oct 8, 2019
Oct 8, 2019 at 2:46 PM UTC
Dear Ethel Cain
Ants don’t cry or think about teeth. I got this star tattoo that cost a lot.
Apr 27, 2025
Apr 27, 2025 at 6:30 PM UTC
Dear Friend…
I don’t know where to start.
Memories come to mind
Of how you stole my heart.
You didn’t ask.
No question or please.
Just sauntered in and took it,
Apparently with ease.
I’ve tried to get it back so hard,
Fought you countless times,
And yet my heart is tied to yours
A foreign feeling, but sublime.
I don’t know why it had to be this way
To always feel alone,
Because my background and my habits
I’ve stayed secluded as I’ve grown.
Of all the lies I’ve told myself,
This is surely one,
I swore I’d never have a friend,
But now look what you’ve done.
Your soft smiles make me smile too
Never ceasing to have beauty.
And the way you protect me from my fears
As if it is your duty.
And when you are filled to the brim
With tears that spill and shine,
Even when days are looking grim,
Know that you’ll be fine.
Lucy to my Ethel,
Mountain to my dew,
So my dear partner in crime,
Know I’ll never leave you.
Never forsaken never forgotten
Never will your days be rotten,
For if I love you and you love me,
We’ll fill up our lives with memories.
The good and bad,
The pleasure the pain,
Through brightest sun
And darkest rain,
My friend,
I’ll be there for you.
So please say that
You’ll never leave me, too.
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 6:54 PM UTC