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"girlish" poems
i walked the boulevard i saw a ***** child skating on noisy wheels of joy pathetic dress fluttering behind her a mothermonster with red grumbling face cluttered in pursuit pleasantly elephantine while nearby the father a thick cheerful man with majestic bulbous lips and forlorn piggish hands joked to a girlish ***** with busy rhythmic mouth and sily purple eyelids of how she was with child
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I Walked The Boulevard
I. The Mermaid I am six years old, and I am obsessed with Ariel from The Little Mermaid-- she is, by far, my favourite Disney Princess. I want to be exactly like her-- hair billowing in red swirls around a heart-shaped face and eyes so blue they put the very ocean to shame (my sister has blue eyes too, you know, and, to this day, I still envy her, for her eyes are the loveliest characteristic of her Beauty-- and believe me, there are many); purple clam shells vibrant against porcelain-doll skin and fully blossomed ******* (in three years from now, I will begin to grow ***** elementary-school style, over-ripe. B Cups going on C cups fated to become D Cups, plum-sized in comparison to the budding mosquito bites of my fellow classmates. Barely a child, womanhood threatens to sexualize my girlish body before I truly know what sexualization is); fins cutting through the water gracefully in all their green, iridescent glory (little did I know that, as I grew older, "cutting" would adopt a far more sinister meaning in the context of my life). But, despite my admiration for Ariel, I fail to understand her desire to abandon her under-sea rendezvous, sunken treasures, oceanic melodies to "be where the people are." This lack of approval I foster exists due to the fact that I am a firm believer of the magic the aquatic realm (and Disney) has to offer. To this day, I continue to maintain my stance-- that Ariel had been terribly wrong in the choices she made-- but I have become cognizant of different (and better) reasons to argue my position; after all, and as a cartoon crab had so wisely declared once, "The human world-- it's a mess."
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Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 10:29 PM UTC
I, Ophelia (Part One--The Mermaid)
I. The Mermaid I am six years old, and I am obsessed with Ariel from The Little Mermaid-- she is, by far, my favourite Disney Princess. I want to be exactly like her-- hair billowing in red swirls around a heart-shaped face and eyes so blue they put the very ocean to shame (my sister has blue eyes too, you know, and, to this day, I still envy her, for her eyes are the loveliest characteristic of her Beauty-- and believe me, there are many); purple clam shells vibrant against porcelain-doll skin and fully blossomed ******* (in three years from now, I will begin to grow ***** elementary-school style, over-ripe. B Cups going on C cups fated to become D Cups, plum-sized in comparison to the budding mosquito bites of my fellow classmates. Barely a child, womanhood threatens to sexualize my girlish body before I truly know what sexualization is); fins cutting through the water gracefully in all their green, iridescent glory (little did I know that, as I grew older, "cutting" would adopt a far more sinister meaning in the context of my life). But, despite my admiration for Ariel, I fail to understand her desire to abandon her under-sea rendezvous, sunken treasures, oceanic melodies to "be where the people are." This lack of approval I foster exists due to the fact that I am a firm believer of the magic the aquatic realm (and Disney) has to offer. To this day, I continue to maintain my stance-- that Ariel had been terribly wrong in the choices she made-- but I have become cognizant of different (and better) reasons to argue my position; after all, and as a cartoon crab had so wisely declared once, "The human world-- it's a mess."
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And life came in, crowned in blood, kissed and messed, announcing itself with a cry.   A girl-child, missing piece, fitted to my breast her weight absorbed with my heart's sigh She was fear personified, so heavenly blessed, she made my terrified simpers her lullaby. I felt my heart's core swell to absorb her scent, and my eyes overflowed with love's cascading cry. She cast light into my darkened chaotic hurt - sparked a desire to wake, to live, to try, clasping her whole fist around my ring finger, holding me still; the whole world passing by. And in her absence she left her shadow nestled in my chest. And in my absence I hid my kisses in her sigh. She grew with eyes of blue and a sympathetic smile - all faerie dust on the wing of a butterfly, an almost echo of a girl I once knew. Except she didn't know that kind of cry, wouldn't know anything less than rainbows, than Christmas mornings and endless blue skies. We tripped, clicked heels through the passing years, from little girl to little woman in the blink of an eye, till we were both wearing her shoes instead of mine. And like Alice, she snapped from low to high she grew - time sculpting curvy definitions of who I hope and fear she will be. She is golden curls and girlish giggles ever wondering the where or the why ever seeking to help, to heal, to try to pour her heart into an undeserving world. She has legs she claims to stand her ground to be, to free, to hold her own. And though like me, she is not me, since she is so much braver than I. Her finger is wrapped around her innocence holding strong to consent or deny. This life will make her cry her tears and this world will realise her fears but she will ever have the wings to fly and I will ever ready to sing her our lullaby.
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Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 3:37 PM UTC
Beck Bees
And life came in, crowned in blood, kissed and messed, announcing itself with a cry.   A girl-child, missing piece, fitted to my breast her weight absorbed with my heart's sigh She was fear personified, so heavenly blessed, she made my terrified simpers her lullaby. I felt my heart's core swell to absorb her scent, and my eyes overflowed with love's cascading cry. She cast light into my darkened chaotic hurt - sparked a desire to wake, to live, to try, clasping her whole fist around my ring finger, holding me still; the whole world passing by. And in her absence she left her shadow nestled in my chest. And in my absence I hid my kisses in her sigh. She grew with eyes of blue and a sympathetic smile - all faerie dust on the wing of a butterfly, an almost echo of a girl I once knew. Except she didn't know that kind of cry, wouldn't know anything less than rainbows, than Christmas mornings and endless blue skies. We tripped, clicked heels through the passing years, from little girl to little woman in the blink of an eye, till we were both wearing her shoes instead of mine. And like Alice, she snapped from low to high she grew - time sculpting curvy definitions of who I hope and fear she will be. She is golden curls and girlish giggles ever wondering the where or the why ever seeking to help, to heal, to try to pour her heart into an undeserving world. She has legs she claims to stand her ground to be, to free, to hold her own. And though like me, she is not me, since she is so much braver than I. Her finger is wrapped around her innocence holding strong to consent or deny. This life will make her cry her tears and this world will realise her fears but she will ever have the wings to fly and I will ever ready to sing her our lullaby.
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KISSING MR. CHELIDON GOODBYE Ho...ho.  . .oh! I don't know if I should be telling you this. I was just sweet as in 16 & never been kissed and my ******* hadn't yet arrived though I prayed and prayed to a God who did not heed my girlish plea. All the girls in my year had already budded. ******* to the right of me! Breast to the left of me! Into the valley of despair I rode my Raleigh alas alas breast-less! I practiced kissing by kissing the you know inside of ( the whatchamacallit? ) my elbow the chelidon so called by an old falling-apart medical dictionary. I clipped some hair from our Yorkshire terrier stuck it on the crick of my right elbow so that it became my first moustache'd kiss. And so, was born my Mr. Chelidon. Pathetic...yes...I know but the year after my bosoms arrived with a suddenness that took my breath away. I breasting the waves like a ship's figurehead as I dived into the sea a Venus for boys to see. I was my ******* and my ******* were me. Somehow I could then not stopped being kissed. And once kissed grew addicted to it. The bliss of the kiss. I was my own drug. I gave Mr. Chelidon the elbow. Discovered the joy of boys inventing various uses for them as they discovered me.
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May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 5:41 AM UTC
KISSING MR. CHELIDON GOODBYE
Bid adieu, adieu, adieu, Bid adieu to girlish days, Happy Love is come to woo Thee and woo thy girlish ways— The zone that doth become thee fair, The snood upon thy yellow hair, When thou hast heard his name upon The bugles of the cherubim Begin thou softly to unzone Thy girlish ***** unto him And softly to undo the snood That is the sign of maidenhood.
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Bid Adieu to Maidenhood
but you are smooth in full regalia reptilian in your lounge suit your westchester upbringing shows in your brooks brothers snake skin boots so she knows your from old school money and plants a perfumed eye on your rear end it sticks there like sweaty glue every inch of her polished skin fermented at great expense and you thought suntans were hard to pay off try having the ***** pickled in whiskey but the divorce would leave you a destitute sideshow on rodeo drive with nothing but your mansion and your jag standing between you and the unwashed masses so you make her slap on another layer of makeup you drop another crotch rocket happy hardness pill and slip a few more bucks over the border to Switzerland and drop a quick prayer to the twin god of Morgan and Stanley that the market holds for one more day lounge lizard pushing seventy with a twenty two year old ****** on one arm and the keys to the rolls clutched in your liver spotted hand your ready for anything you may be king of the florida keys but gotta respect the cash flow if what your pointless poison bites off your **** more than goes into your mouth then ya gotta wonder kiddo if moving back to the homestead in Spuyten Duyvil might be better than lettin lifestyle carjack your life that twenty two year old ***** you got poured all over your lap has more spider in her than girlish charm shes a train wreck waiting to happen ill get ya to the border safe and sound don't 'cha worry bout that have you headed north fore they even know your gone may be the king of the florida keys but it high time we get ya back to brooklyn fore they bury you down here
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Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 5:47 PM UTC
lounge lizard
but you are smooth in full regalia reptilian in your lounge suit your westchester upbringing shows in your brooks brothers snake skin boots so she knows your from old school money and plants a perfumed eye on your rear end it sticks there like sweaty glue every inch of her polished skin fermented at great expense and you thought suntans were hard to pay off try having the ***** pickled in whiskey but the divorce would leave you a destitute sideshow on rodeo drive with nothing but your mansion and your jag standing between you and the unwashed masses so you make her slap on another layer of makeup you drop another crotch rocket happy hardness pill and slip a few more bucks over the border to Switzerland and drop a quick prayer to the twin god of Morgan and Stanley that the market holds for one more day lounge lizard pushing seventy with a twenty two year old ****** on one arm and the keys to the rolls clutched in your liver spotted hand your ready for anything you may be king of the florida keys but gotta respect the cash flow if what your pointless poison bites off your **** more than goes into your mouth then ya gotta wonder kiddo if moving back to the homestead in Spuyten Duyvil might be better than lettin lifestyle carjack your life that twenty two year old ***** you got poured all over your lap has more spider in her than girlish charm shes a train wreck waiting to happen ill get ya to the border safe and sound don't 'cha worry bout that have you headed north fore they even know your gone may be the king of the florida keys but it high time we get ya back to brooklyn fore they bury you down here
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I have wearied of grand romances Of deep sighs and swooning trances Of doting gentlemen’s advances And all manner of courtship play I am tired of love confessions And of dizzied, dazed professions And of unrestrained obsessions I grow sicker day by day I once dreamed of adoration Went quite mad for veneration Laughing, flirting with temptation The queen in Camelot The lonely, lovely Guinevere Dainty-masked with girlish fear But when King Arthur wasn’t near Dreaming of Sir Lancelot These days I want no noble knight Despite my seeming helpless plight I wish to set myself aright And tread upon the ground Yet here I am, pedestal-high Too close to the dazzling sky As my life keeps passing by And boys keep running round I’ve let myself grow much too proud Drew up arrogance from the crowd Heard the cheering, bright and loud The queen in Camelot And though I had my faithful Sir Still my heart was all astir With flying fancies, all a blur For Guinevere and Lancelot These fantasies have grown too old I’d rather let my bed grow cold For I have wearied of being told “You are mine to keep” Men have tired me to the core Left me sad and sick and sore And have turned into such a chore And I’d much rather sleep What blasphemy for a maiden fair To toss such doting to the air To turn away without much care Though queen in Camelot But I have withered, I have tired Felt as if my brain’s been mired And find not Arthur much desired Nor dashing Lancelot Is it so bad to want respite From endless longing, day and night? This constant charm becomes too trite With ever staler tone I only wish to rest a while Recover from incessant guile Forget the weight of lovers’ trial And simply be alone
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May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 10:48 PM UTC
Nor Dashing Lancelot
I have wearied of grand romances Of deep sighs and swooning trances Of doting gentlemen’s advances And all manner of courtship play I am tired of love confessions And of dizzied, dazed professions And of unrestrained obsessions I grow sicker day by day I once dreamed of adoration Went quite mad for veneration Laughing, flirting with temptation The queen in Camelot The lonely, lovely Guinevere Dainty-masked with girlish fear But when King Arthur wasn’t near Dreaming of Sir Lancelot These days I want no noble knight Despite my seeming helpless plight I wish to set myself aright And tread upon the ground Yet here I am, pedestal-high Too close to the dazzling sky As my life keeps passing by And boys keep running round I’ve let myself grow much too proud Drew up arrogance from the crowd Heard the cheering, bright and loud The queen in Camelot And though I had my faithful Sir Still my heart was all astir With flying fancies, all a blur For Guinevere and Lancelot These fantasies have grown too old I’d rather let my bed grow cold For I have wearied of being told “You are mine to keep” Men have tired me to the core Left me sad and sick and sore And have turned into such a chore And I’d much rather sleep What blasphemy for a maiden fair To toss such doting to the air To turn away without much care Though queen in Camelot But I have withered, I have tired Felt as if my brain’s been mired And find not Arthur much desired Nor dashing Lancelot Is it so bad to want respite From endless longing, day and night? This constant charm becomes too trite With ever staler tone I only wish to rest a while Recover from incessant guile Forget the weight of lovers’ trial And simply be alone
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Flower petals fall, pink girlish lips kissing my skin as I lie beneath drooping branches. The grass around me is a blanket, soft as fleece. I inhale both scents, sweet and earthy like late summer afternoons of lawn mowing and iced tea. They nip my tongue with each breath I take. I feel the sun’s heat on my eyelids and ears and feel my skin turn red, but I don’t move from my spot beneath the magnolia tree. My grandmother calls my name, but I don’t open my eyes.
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Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 8:22 PM UTC
Beneath the Magnolia Tree
Up the stairs went molly Pratchett, in her hands a little hatchet. Squealing loud in girlish glee, at all the gore that she'll see... Slowly down the hall she crept, to the room where her parents slept. She raised the hatchet over her head and slowly tiptoed over to their bed... She sank the hatchet into their heads until alas they were dead.... Now she sits in a padded cell where they keep here very well. They closed the door then they latched it This ends the tale of molly Pratchett, OR DOES IT?.................................
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Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 4:21 PM UTC
The Tale of Molly Prachett
The poet’s quill scribes a vision of the debutante as she rests amongst the bluebells Scattered like jewels over the meadow. The delicate voice of the robins Echo through the valley, Where the gentleman tells of his ardor As they shelter amongst the weeping willows. Curls tumble from the confines of her hat, Parasol tilting to hide girlish blushes, Careless of her silk skirts they are crushed, lying as broken rose petals. She glows with the joy of an un-chaperoned picnic Scent of cinnamon scrolls tempt her senses, as her beau offers cider to moisten their suddenly dry throats. Dapper in his impeccable finery, Coat tails trailing, crisply starched shirt points lifting his chin, Top hat tilted at a rakish angle. Dark eye’s glinting with the thrill of his endeavors. Sunshine silhouettes the glory of the lovers, whom the poet has sewn together as an artist creates a masterpiece. Each syllable as a brushstroke on canvas. A Monet made not of oil and brushes, But ink and parchment. Every word scribed by the care of the poet, Transformed within the mind of the reader
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Oct 21, 2009
Oct 21, 2009 at 12:59 AM UTC
Scribed masterpiece
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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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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A Mother's breast: Safe refuge from her childish fears, From childish troubles, childish tears, Mists that enshroud her dawning years! see how in sleep she seems to sing A voiceless psalm--an offering Raised, to the glory of her King In Love: for Love is Rest. A Darling's kiss: Dearest of all the signs that fleet From lips that lovingly repeat Again, again, the message sweet! Full to the brim with girlish glee, A child, a very child is she, Whose dream of heaven is still to be At Home: for Home is Bliss.
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3k
A Nursery Darling
You and I are both cliches You with your girlish wit and obsession with everything masculine And me With my wounded feminist heart distrusting every man no matter his professed honor and respect of the feminine I can't help but get mad at you and you can't help but feel sorry for me You think I'm deprived And I know your depraved I just hope you finally learn your lesson when your heart has been shattered and your "girlish wit" taken advantage of But really I don't That would be too tragic and unfair I just want you to stop talking and spreading your false reality to all too eager ears And interrupting this class I liked until you walked in At least you're better than the men in here hanging on your every word
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Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 5:39 AM UTC
Feminine Cliches
that man has a fever (for flesh), one would think that one would need to be cooled in order to leave her undressed. always hanging 'round the ladies strong and handsome hollywood smile, the good adonis, a fair tease. but his nonage was not dominated by girlish squeals or hearts, boys like him were quiet-like and kept under the dark. (for what if they found out?)
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Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 10:13 AM UTC
[closet}Ed
We were kids. You shut the door on me in the pouring rain. You had this wide-eyed, crazy grin on your face all the time amused with yourself and that was enough. How did I know how to tell a boy I liked him? I just knew your breath smelled like listerine when you got on the schoolbus in sleepy half dawn You sat behind me and sometimes, if I peeked my eye through the crack between the seat and window, you'd smile and share your headphones with me, a simple song or two from The Postal Service. On brave days, I'd scoot back to be closer and breathe you in in tentative girlish awe. You laid your head down on my lap to nap the rest of the trip and I'd watch you, holding my breath, slowly playing with your orange curls spilling through my fingers like sunlight. Almost a decade later, I've forgotten the schoolbus. We're reunited with a group, eating sushi, laughing until we cry at my spicy face and the clumsy way I can't hold chopsticks taunt. But reaching past you, I brush your hair on accident and stop short, the sensation tingling my fingers, remembering how more than once I've gazed at you in wonder.
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Oct 27, 2011
Oct 27, 2011 at 4:52 PM UTC
Schoolbus
she opens a pack of sheffield english type  number five cigarettes i rest my head in her lap as she reads a french newspaper its raining in paris and theres a girl there who is unhappy dreams of romantic places never have sad girls in them she must be a tourist she sips some strange brew of teas that has a heavy bouquet loam and flowers..like a sweet wine she suddenly laughs and translates a piece of the french news for me but i dont hear what she says i only hear the rich beauty of her voice i only hear the captivating beauties of her i lean up and kiss her she tastes of the sea and english cigarettes i am lost in her essence and her her girlish delights she pokes me and makes me look at a photograph in the paris newspaper...its the sad girl she looks english that graceful beautiful elegant sadness that only english girls can speak without ever saying a word jezebel sips her tea and smokes her english sheffield cigarette holding it like girls hold cigarettes in that dainty way i forget the english girl and her sadness as i lay looking into the eyes of this dreadlock hippie queen janis joplin plays softly from her mp3 shes tapping her bejewelled toes to the ancient music bachelors in literature she loves the written word she has read everything ever written by anyone she has read her way through forty years worth of poetry by me and corrected my atrocious spelling along the way this is morning in her arms now you know why i am so in love with her now you see why she is everything to me she leans down and lays a single tender kiss on my cheek and tells me she loves me this is heaven
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Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 6:44 AM UTC
this is morning in her arms
she opens a pack of sheffield english type  number five cigarettes i rest my head in her lap as she reads a french newspaper its raining in paris and theres a girl there who is unhappy dreams of romantic places never have sad girls in them she must be a tourist she sips some strange brew of teas that has a heavy bouquet loam and flowers..like a sweet wine she suddenly laughs and translates a piece of the french news for me but i dont hear what she says i only hear the rich beauty of her voice i only hear the captivating beauties of her i lean up and kiss her she tastes of the sea and english cigarettes i am lost in her essence and her her girlish delights she pokes me and makes me look at a photograph in the paris newspaper...its the sad girl she looks english that graceful beautiful elegant sadness that only english girls can speak without ever saying a word jezebel sips her tea and smokes her english sheffield cigarette holding it like girls hold cigarettes in that dainty way i forget the english girl and her sadness as i lay looking into the eyes of this dreadlock hippie queen janis joplin plays softly from her mp3 shes tapping her bejewelled toes to the ancient music bachelors in literature she loves the written word she has read everything ever written by anyone she has read her way through forty years worth of poetry by me and corrected my atrocious spelling along the way this is morning in her arms now you know why i am so in love with her now you see why she is everything to me she leans down and lays a single tender kiss on my cheek and tells me she loves me this is heaven
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from boyish lips slips witty words (full of empty) -ness slap at girlish ears hoping to find purchase on a l abaster thoughts (while only concerned with) up skirts (what is)
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Apr 8, 2010
Apr 8, 2010 at 1:36 PM UTC
college campus
Long hours, late nights, many sleepless nights Tired feet galore Dorothy’s discarded her Ruby Slippers for shoes of glass But Glinda kept the magic The feminine Tin man with his girlish heart and voice Has had a *** change now And how a dress of mesh fits 'em oh so well Toto was put down for eating one of the slippers Been replaced by house keeping mice At least they can't chew glass Scarecrow gained prestige and balance Those things of which he lacked The Cowardly Lion shaved his curly mop We still haven’t seen him since Aunty Em gained the crown she very much deserved Uncle Henry preferred the merchant life Since the Wizard foresaw their separation Now Cinderella’s in a tizzy Her stepsisters make her dizzy And truth be told, you never hear She had a bit too much to drink, so near to the ball, first dress was ripped The other slipped far off her head when she tripped One shoe on, the other gone And the rest…. Well, you know.
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Apr 13, 2010
Apr 13, 2010 at 6:12 AM UTC
Change in Roles
The Many Stages of Life. Shakespeare wrote: that in Life, we pass through seven,stages, and for each stage, we fill many pages. Recording details, joyful and sad: of deeds done, be they good or bad. Lifestyles led - be they short or long: a mournful dirge or joyful song? they’ll mark times of joy and strife each book recording a stage in life. But of all events therein, there’s no doubt, The Rhythm of Life, runs throughout! Herewith my attempt to describe poetically, the Seven Phases, of life in metred rhyme: A baby’s first cry, a Mother’s sigh, a Father’s joy, be it girl or boy! The Rhythm of Life - renewing. Tho not adept, a toddler’s first step: an excited giggle, a hesitant wiggle! The Rhythm of Life - exploring. A chilling dream: a piercing scream: a splashing bath, a show of wrath! The Rhythm of Life - revealing. It’s off to school, playing it cool, friendships made, twixt lad and maid, The Rhythm of Life - inviting. In the Class, shy looks pass: Girl dates boy, flirting coy: The Rhythm of Life - delighting. Embarrassed flush: a girlish blush. With proposal made, plans are laid, The Rhythm of Life - maturing. Lovers matched, a wedding hatched, with banns said, the twosome wed. The Rhythm of Life - inviting. Twixt a couple paired, love is shared. Next it’s three, maybe more to be? The Rhythm of Life, expanding. Heaven be praisedACA, the family’s raised, then comes the desire, to retire. The rhythm of Life, now slowing. After happy years, and some tears, walk grows slow, soon time to go. The Rhythm of Life, is waning. When The Reaper calls, the curtain falls: being time to leave, some will grieve. For The Rhythm of Life, has ended! Rhymer.  May 23rd, 2018.
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May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 7:43 PM UTC
The Seven Phases of Life.
The Many Stages of Life. Shakespeare wrote: that in Life, we pass through seven,stages, and for each stage, we fill many pages. Recording details, joyful and sad: of deeds done, be they good or bad. Lifestyles led - be they short or long: a mournful dirge or joyful song? they’ll mark times of joy and strife each book recording a stage in life. But of all events therein, there’s no doubt, The Rhythm of Life, runs throughout! Herewith my attempt to describe poetically, the Seven Phases, of life in metred rhyme: A baby’s first cry, a Mother’s sigh, a Father’s joy, be it girl or boy! The Rhythm of Life - renewing. Tho not adept, a toddler’s first step: an excited giggle, a hesitant wiggle! The Rhythm of Life - exploring. A chilling dream: a piercing scream: a splashing bath, a show of wrath! The Rhythm of Life - revealing. It’s off to school, playing it cool, friendships made, twixt lad and maid, The Rhythm of Life - inviting. In the Class, shy looks pass: Girl dates boy, flirting coy: The Rhythm of Life - delighting. Embarrassed flush: a girlish blush. With proposal made, plans are laid, The Rhythm of Life - maturing. Lovers matched, a wedding hatched, with banns said, the twosome wed. The Rhythm of Life - inviting. Twixt a couple paired, love is shared. Next it’s three, maybe more to be? The Rhythm of Life, expanding. Heaven be praisedACA, the family’s raised, then comes the desire, to retire. The rhythm of Life, now slowing. After happy years, and some tears, walk grows slow, soon time to go. The Rhythm of Life, is waning. When The Reaper calls, the curtain falls: being time to leave, some will grieve. For The Rhythm of Life, has ended! Rhymer.  May 23rd, 2018.
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This is not you that lies before us, beloved Aunt, for you live on in our hearts, our souls, our minds as the with racquet and a ready smile, as the doting older sister with eyes shining like a proud spotlight on two little girls on a crowded stage, singled out and made special by your love. You do not lie here cold and lifeless, beloved Aunt, for you live on in the warmth of your laughter and your bright shining lively dancing eyes and your girlish peaches-and-cream complexion and in the memories of two small nephews in the endless summer of childhood conquering the diving tower at Jellicoe Baths or frolicking at Mission Bay and you capturing all our shared and happy memories with your trusty Box Brownie.
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Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 4:00 PM UTC
BOX BROWNIE MEMORIES (for my Aunt Gladys)
Sleep, pretty lady, the night is enfolding you; Drift, and so lightly, on crystalline streams. Wrapped in its perfumes, the darkness is holding you; Starlight bespangles the way of your dreams. Chorus the nightingales, wistfully amorous; Blessedly quiet, the blare of the day. All the sweet hours may your visions be glamorous-- Sleep, pretty lady, as long as you may. Sleep, pretty lady, the night shall be still for you; Silvered and silent, it watches you rest. Each little breeze, in its eagerness, will for you Murmur the melodies ancient and blest. So in the midnight does happiness capture us; Morning is dim with another day's tears. Give yourself sweetly to images rapturous-- Sleep, pretty lady, a couple of years. Sleep, pretty lady, the world awaits day with you; Girlish and golden, the slender young moon. Grant the fond darkness its mystical way with you; Morning returns to us ever too soon. Roses unfold, in their loveliness, all for you; Blossom the lilies for hope of your glance. When you're awake, all the men go and fall for you-- Sleep, pretty lady, and give me a chance.
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Lullaby
THE ROSES slanted crimson sobs On the night sky hair of the women, And the long light-fingered men Spoke to the dark-haired women, "Nothing lovelier, nothing lovelier." How could he sit there among us all Guzzling blood into his guts, Goblets, mugs, buckets- Leaning, toppling, laughing With a slobber on his mouth, A smear of red on his strong raw lips, How could he sit there And only two or three of us see him? There was nothing to it. He wasn't there at all, of course. The roses leaned from the pots. The sprays snot roses gold and red And the roses slanted crimson sobs In the night sky hair And the voices chattered on the way To the frappe, speaking of pictures, Speaking of a strip of black velvet Crossing a girlish woman's throat, Speaking of the mystic music flash Of pots and sprays of roses, "Nothing lovelier, nothing lovelier."
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1.9k
Testimony Regarding a Ghost
She was old when I first knew her To an infant, parents are timeless; Fairy aunts are just… old. A tiny scarecrow of a thing, Her eyes glittered; her mouth Never offered an ill word of anyone. She was a good woman. She never tired Of talking about blind Jim – a good man – With girlish love in her face; One man, one love, one life He wove wicker and filled mattresses And listened to the wireless in the evening. Her constant thought companion As so many might-have-been heroes – Gone, before I could know him. Christmas would wend round each year, With Meg as star guest, Tipsy before the Queen’s Speech, Whisky rouging her cheeks; fairy lights Made envious by her laughter, My mother, and hers, basking in gleelight. I grew up there, every other Sunday, Overlooking the Hospital and the Tay From the safety of her living-room window, Inventing spaceships and spies, Dreaming of who I would be, As my mother and Meg made small-talk. Month by month, her daylight dimmed. I never saw it. She was only ever her; Happy, constant and true.  Afterwards, I learned about the Vying accountants and surgeons, Postponing, year and again, The procedure. She told me, when finally Her appointment was confirmed, That when the cataracts were gone, She was going to buy a ticket For the number nine circular And spend all day upstairs, Just looking out of the window At the city she’d lived in For nigh-on ninety years A week before the operation Her home-help found her in bed, with Jim; Smiling as they danced through the daisies. She seemed no older when she died Than when I first knew her. A good innings, they all said. Not enough. If only by the length of a bus ticket – not enough.
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Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 5:27 AM UTC
Day Tripper
She was old when I first knew her To an infant, parents are timeless; Fairy aunts are just… old. A tiny scarecrow of a thing, Her eyes glittered; her mouth Never offered an ill word of anyone. She was a good woman. She never tired Of talking about blind Jim – a good man – With girlish love in her face; One man, one love, one life He wove wicker and filled mattresses And listened to the wireless in the evening. Her constant thought companion As so many might-have-been heroes – Gone, before I could know him. Christmas would wend round each year, With Meg as star guest, Tipsy before the Queen’s Speech, Whisky rouging her cheeks; fairy lights Made envious by her laughter, My mother, and hers, basking in gleelight. I grew up there, every other Sunday, Overlooking the Hospital and the Tay From the safety of her living-room window, Inventing spaceships and spies, Dreaming of who I would be, As my mother and Meg made small-talk. Month by month, her daylight dimmed. I never saw it. She was only ever her; Happy, constant and true.  Afterwards, I learned about the Vying accountants and surgeons, Postponing, year and again, The procedure. She told me, when finally Her appointment was confirmed, That when the cataracts were gone, She was going to buy a ticket For the number nine circular And spend all day upstairs, Just looking out of the window At the city she’d lived in For nigh-on ninety years A week before the operation Her home-help found her in bed, with Jim; Smiling as they danced through the daisies. She seemed no older when she died Than when I first knew her. A good innings, they all said. Not enough. If only by the length of a bus ticket – not enough.
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They don't speak, all the long, winding bus journey.  They are strangers, with nothing in common besides the No 50 route and the free travel passes afforded to them on account of their quietly advancing years. She sits in the seat in front of him. Their eyes never lock.  His myopic gaze through thick NHS lenses rests neutral on the back of her head, her softly blue-rinsed curls and the collar of an eminently sensible overcoat. They sit, both silent, as - outside the foggy bus windows - winter has one last chew on time's bony old carcass. She has a slight stoop which she's doing her best to hide, and his shaking hands make his liver spots blur. They stand - the bus stopping at their mutual destination - shuffling sideways into the aisle, and something unexpected happens. The bus jolts suddenly forwards, then lurches to a startled halt, and she falls backwards into his arms and he catches her. For a second, strange gravities assume control. There's a moment, governed by different laws of physics and chemistry and half-forgotten, half-remembered biology. She flushes, infused with something warm and thirst-whettingly girlish, and he surges with a newfound potency, standing taller, the woman he's supporting somehow lessening the burden of his age. Her spine straightens, and she laughs.  His face, smiling, youthens. His hands hold her unstooped shoulders and don't tremble. Sun breaks through cloud outside the window. They remember it's spring out there somewhere.
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Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 10:45 AM UTC
Winter Romance
They don't speak, all the long, winding bus journey.  They are strangers, with nothing in common besides the No 50 route and the free travel passes afforded to them on account of their quietly advancing years. She sits in the seat in front of him. Their eyes never lock.  His myopic gaze through thick NHS lenses rests neutral on the back of her head, her softly blue-rinsed curls and the collar of an eminently sensible overcoat. They sit, both silent, as - outside the foggy bus windows - winter has one last chew on time's bony old carcass. She has a slight stoop which she's doing her best to hide, and his shaking hands make his liver spots blur. They stand - the bus stopping at their mutual destination - shuffling sideways into the aisle, and something unexpected happens. The bus jolts suddenly forwards, then lurches to a startled halt, and she falls backwards into his arms and he catches her. For a second, strange gravities assume control. There's a moment, governed by different laws of physics and chemistry and half-forgotten, half-remembered biology. She flushes, infused with something warm and thirst-whettingly girlish, and he surges with a newfound potency, standing taller, the woman he's supporting somehow lessening the burden of his age. Her spine straightens, and she laughs.  His face, smiling, youthens. His hands hold her unstooped shoulders and don't tremble. Sun breaks through cloud outside the window. They remember it's spring out there somewhere.
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48
I go back to the old house, down off Harper Road and across from the old bakery. The paint is green now and the shutters look as if they would like to peel off the sides of the windows and float down the street. I stand there on the curb. I say, “This is my childhood home,” and it sounds like a lie. Then, “I used to live here.” Finally, “I don’t live here anymore.” That one’s better, truer, but it still sounds like a warning. I find a neighbor too, a little older woman with reddish hair and beautiful pearl earrings, and I ask, “Do you remember a little girl who used to live here?” “No,” she says, “you know how it is with neighbors these days, no one ever stops to say hello.” I resist the urge to say hello; we talk about the weather. When she asks if I was the little girl, I lie. I don’t have a particular reason for this, but the knowing glint in her eyes irritates me. I talk about a cousin, an old acquaintance I wanted to find. “Genealogical research,” I say, “a hobby,” and I keep lying until the woman with the pearls is no longer curious, or paying attention. I do not remember what I say; there are certain kinds of lies no one is ever particularly curious about after you tell them once. I wait a polite amount of time and then I go back to the Motel 6. The girlish, conventional corner of my mind is whispering sadly. What a shame, she says, no one here remembers you. The rest of me is a woman, vindictive and satisfied. Good, she says, and means it. If she had her way, she would burn the house to the ground like so much tinder and be done with it. A better ending than this, she says. She’s smiling; she thinks I should have slapped the lady with the pearls right across her ugly face, there in the middle of the street. You and me, she says, we don’t get paradise, but we’re old enough to choose our own hell. You and me, baby, we get a choice. I light a cigarette in the dingy motel bathroom. It’s the first I've had in days and as close to paradise as anything else I know. I study myself in the ancient mirror, unfortunately positioned on the wall over the porcelain toilet. I say it out loud, testing the words, watching them weave through the smoke. “A better ending,” I say, and I try very hard to mean it.
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Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 10:20 PM UTC
A Letter for Imaginary Cousins
I go back to the old house, down off Harper Road and across from the old bakery. The paint is green now and the shutters look as if they would like to peel off the sides of the windows and float down the street. I stand there on the curb. I say, “This is my childhood home,” and it sounds like a lie. Then, “I used to live here.” Finally, “I don’t live here anymore.” That one’s better, truer, but it still sounds like a warning. I find a neighbor too, a little older woman with reddish hair and beautiful pearl earrings, and I ask, “Do you remember a little girl who used to live here?” “No,” she says, “you know how it is with neighbors these days, no one ever stops to say hello.” I resist the urge to say hello; we talk about the weather. When she asks if I was the little girl, I lie. I don’t have a particular reason for this, but the knowing glint in her eyes irritates me. I talk about a cousin, an old acquaintance I wanted to find. “Genealogical research,” I say, “a hobby,” and I keep lying until the woman with the pearls is no longer curious, or paying attention. I do not remember what I say; there are certain kinds of lies no one is ever particularly curious about after you tell them once. I wait a polite amount of time and then I go back to the Motel 6. The girlish, conventional corner of my mind is whispering sadly. What a shame, she says, no one here remembers you. The rest of me is a woman, vindictive and satisfied. Good, she says, and means it. If she had her way, she would burn the house to the ground like so much tinder and be done with it. A better ending than this, she says. She’s smiling; she thinks I should have slapped the lady with the pearls right across her ugly face, there in the middle of the street. You and me, she says, we don’t get paradise, but we’re old enough to choose our own hell. You and me, baby, we get a choice. I light a cigarette in the dingy motel bathroom. It’s the first I've had in days and as close to paradise as anything else I know. I study myself in the ancient mirror, unfortunately positioned on the wall over the porcelain toilet. I say it out loud, testing the words, watching them weave through the smoke. “A better ending,” I say, and I try very hard to mean it.
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