"helga" poems
MacBain splutters,
long winded speeches,
intoxicating stutters.
Whisky reeks volumes on volumes of volumes,
unfathomable mysteries on infallible fumes.
Helga looks hideously **** tonight,
the ghoul in the corner looks up for a fight.
The toilet's transforming into a white telephone,
just one last drink until the drinking is done.
Redshot eyes light another cigarette,
Shooter all round,
and a beer what the heck!
The dance floor is moving like a seasick ship,
We all feel like rock stars defining whats hip.
Jan 26, 2010
Jan 26, 2010 at 8:45 AM UTC
Sun feigns heat
in a clear slate of blue above;
I gaze upon pale, brown hills and fields
through the smoke of my breath
wishing it would at least snow.
There was talk of cow-tipping
when I was in fifth grade,
but cows would've broken their necks.
Ground covered in frozen grass
is no comfort for fallen cows at 15 Fahrenheit.
Our small lake
transformed into a debating ground for skaters and hockey players,
each vying for control over the weekend's
primary source of entertainment.
(The dreadful alternative: afternoons shopping with parents.)
When it finally snowed, a wonderland was made,
a knee-high, get-out-of-school-free card.
We charted expeditions in corn fields, wooded creeks
and stone-colored barns that were beguiling in the white
of Chadds Ford pastures like untended English castles.
Woods like a Pollack of burnt sienna and white,
their only sound is weight of snow bearing down on limb.
Beyond those whispers, just a roaring silence
when I'm still as ice fingers
trying to touch the ground from the roof.
The cats of Baldwin's Book Barn nap easily within,
as we dig for a pearl amongst makeshift shelves
full of hard-bound reads for snow-bound youth.
These felines, grown, need not the words,
but the pages themselves for fine beds.
A blue-white glow from outside casts a cold light,
illuminating prints of Helga and Christina's World,
a reminder to all who live down the road.
On such a winter day, I didn't care to remember
that soon there would be Spring kittens in the books,
and a lake full of children's swimsuits.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 8:16 PM UTC
THE WISHES on this child's mouth
Came like snow on marsh cranberries;
The tamarack kept something for her;
The wind is ready to help her shoes.
The north has loved her; she will be
A grandmother feeding geese on frosty
Mornings; she will understand
Early snow on the cranberries
Better and better then.
2k
THE MILK drops on your chin, Helga,
Must not interfere with the cranberry red of your cheeks
Nor the sky winter blue of your eyes.
Let your mammy keep hands off the chin.
This is a high holy spatter of white on the reds and blues.
Before the bottle was taken away,
Before you so proudly began today
Drinking your milk from the rim of a cup
They did not splash this high holy white on your chin.
There are dreams in your eyes, Helga.
Tall reaches of wind sweep the clear blue.
The winter is young yet, so young.
Only a little cupful of winter has touched your lips.
Drink on ... milk with your lips ... dreams with your eyes.
2k
Let me tell you a true story of tragic love;
And you had better believe it, for there's no lie.
'Twas on the Isle of Kos that I met Helga one day,
Sitting in a taverna, sipping an ouzo.
I sat down and we soon exchanged a word or two,
Flirting and teasing 'til the sun sank in the sea.
I suggested a walk on the beach (subtle move)
Which is when I received a nice little surprise.
She stood up in all her glory and then I found
That she was well over a eighteen inches shorter than my humble self,
A genuine short-arse with a prosthetic leg to boot
Which promised me something rather special.
Nothing put out, we ended up in my bedroom
And I shoved my hot tongue right up her angelic ****
"Did you like that?" I enquired (a gent as always)
"It was repulsive," she replied with a slight sneer.
And when we woke up together the next bright morn
I found she had vomited on my bedside jeans,
Before leaving me alone on the encrusted sheets.
Unfortunately the jeans shrunk a bit when I washed the puke out
And their exquisite tightness on my private parts
Reminded me for several days of this amorous encounter.
Was her criticism of my oral skills her unusual Norwegian humour?
Perhaps she really meant to call me her Übermensch?
Maybe it was sarcasm and got lost in translation
So stimulated was she post-orgasmically.
One horrid thought still remains - she might have meant it
(after all, as Nietzsche once said so observantly
"in revenge and in love woman is more barbarous than man.").
And thus I am left with confused memories of that night:
Her face was that of blond angel but her tongue was sharp
And it really was a crying shame about her leg-stump
Which wept slightly.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 5:17 PM UTC
Helga broke another
Tiny heart:
Helga broke a heart;
Helga breaks hearts.
Soul changing eyes,
Petrify.
Are you alive?
Rose petals fall;
Helga broke one more.
Flattery is the starting gun
Like a pack of wolves
She'll hunt and run.
Feast, feasts;
Helga is the beast.
Snapped another heart string,
Wipe your tears,
You didn't feel a thing.
Helga, you're a *****
Helga, Helga!
I dub thee a witch!
*Another heart,
On a stake.*
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 10:43 AM UTC
Helga, dear Helga,
perhaps, one day, you'll read this poem
it is my apology for waving you
and your friend away
that day, soon after I awoke
from the eighteen-day coma
I was ashamed, dear Helga,
for having lost my voice
and three years later,
when we were sixteen, at night school,
when you briefly stood next to me,
though my voice had more than somewhat returned
I was shy and in shock
I hadn't learned, yet,
how to take a lady in my arms...
all these years later, dear Helga,
please understand, I think of you
I'm grateful for your visit that day
and see, right here, this poem proves it
~~
..Sunday, Jan. 27, 2012..(C)2012 Spiros Zafiris
..channeled; spirit Harmony; reaching
into the poet's mind
~~
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 11:52 PM UTC
Doe-eyed lovely object of my affections
What I wouldn’t do to become lost in your sweet caress
Arrogant, selfish needs- what is this obsession?
The way you smile negates my façade and leaves me helpless.
Oh, just to touch thee, hold thee, kiss thee…
My last breath I pray will be spent
On a kiss bestowed upon thy lips.
May 20, 2010
May 20, 2010 at 12:19 AM UTC
Yes! It's another "Barry Hodges" poem!
Let me tell you a true story of tragic love;
And you had better believe it, for there's no lie.
'Twas on the Isle of Kos that I met Helga one day,
Sitting in a taverna, sipping an ouzo.
I sat down and we soon exchanged a word or two,
Flirting and teasing 'til the sun sank in the sea.
I suggested a walk on the beach (subtle move)
Which is when I received a nice little surprise.
She stood up in all her glory and then I found
That she was well over a foot shorter than my humble self,
A genuine short-arse with a prosthetic leg to boot
Which promised me something rather special.
Nothing put out, we ended up in my bedroom
And I shoved my hot tongue right up her angelic ****
"Did you like that?" I enquired (a gent as always)
"It was repulsive," she replied with a slight sneer.
And when we woke up together the next bright morn
I found she had vomited on my bedside jeans,
Before leaving me alone on the encrusted sheets.
Unfortunately the jeans shrunk a bit when I washed the puke out
And their exquisite tightness on my private parts
Reminded me for several days of this amorous encounter.
Was her criticism of my oral skills her unusual Norwegian humour?
Perhaps she really meant to call me her Übermensch?
Maybe it was sarcasm and got lost in translation
So stimulated was she post-orgasmically.
One horrid thought still remains - she might have meant it
(after all, as Nietzsche once said so observantly
"in revenge and in love woman is more barbarous than man.").
And thus I am left with confused memories of that night:
Her face was that of blond angel but her tongue was sharp
And it really was a crying shame about her leg-stump.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
You are the friend I cherish the most
When it comes to unconditional love
Undoubtedly, are you the best
As long as I live
Will I be on your side
Together, can we turn the tide!
You are the friend I cherish the most
And someone I would love to arrest
For the crime of "being too nice" !!
A sweet smile on your beautiful face
Does wonders to my mental health
Always, will I be ready to assist
Should you need anything
To me, does your friendship mean everything!!
You are the friend I cherish the most
When it comes to trust
Seriously, are you absolutely unbeatable
Also, are you extremely capable
As far as work is concerned
So much, have you achieved
Yet, are you humble to a fault
Even can the hardest of hearts melt
After coming in contact
With a human being as compassionate
As you are
Really, are you such a dear!!
You are the friend I cherish the most
Without you, will I be lost
So precious, is your advice
Indeed, are you exceptionally wise
As well as a model of patience
Always, do you give people second chances
Because, are you kind as Helga Hufflepuff
Irritating you is very very tough!!
You are the friend I cherish the most
Thanks to you, have I started thinking less about my past
And liking myself more
If I ever get stuck in a mire
It is you, whose help would I seek, above all
In the stock market, you are the bull
Because, are you so positive
You make me believe
That I can finally conquer my demons
From you, have I learned many a lesson!!
You are the friend I cherish the most
With you on my side
I believe I can pass any test
Because, always will you come to my aid
In fact, are you not merely a friend
But also an unofficial sister
So happy am I, to be your brother
And to you, may the Lord always be kind
Take care and continue being the awesome human being you are!!
Jun 1, 2024
Jun 1, 2024 at 1:04 AM UTC
The Skotzki girls, Helga and Inge,
Fifteen and thirteen years old,
Boarded the SS St. Louis in Hamburg.
Let their story forever be told.
The girls' parents, Gunther and Charlotte,
Experienced with growing unease
The dangers of living in **** Germany.
The solution: to flee as refugees.
Nine hundred Jewish passengers
Aboard the luxury liner departed
In May of 1939.
For them a new life had started.
Or so they hoped. Two weeks later,
When they reached Cuba--the end of their trip--
Only twenty-eight of the people
Were permitted to leave the ship.
Discrimination and politics
Had suddenly played a deadly hand,
Affecting the fate of those who sought
Asylum in a foreign land.
Toward Florida the ship sailed.
The refugees begged for immigrant status.
The desperate cries refused to budge
The cold, political apparatus.
"We've already fulfilled our quotas."
"Careful! They might be **** spies."
Excuses emerged and rumors spread
With paranoid suppositions and lies.
The captain steered the ship back to Europe.
The refugees caught in a game of chance
Were spread among four countries:
The Netherlands, Belgium, Great Britain, and France.
Of the nine hundred passengers,
Two hundred fifty-four of them lost
Their lives while they were stuck in Europe
During the ghastly Holocaust.
Helga and Inge, along with their parents,
Probably struggled to comprehend
How politics could come before people.
In Auschwitz their lives came to an end.
We know we can't turn back the clock,
But we must do whatever it takes
To put people first and do what is right--
Or else we're doomed to repeat our mistakes.
- by Bob B (4-25-17)
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 4:37 PM UTC
You started as an innocent child
Your father died but you still kept your smile
You worked long and hard waiting for things to get better
Til your legs got sore and you felt life was bitter.
Your eyes sparkeled with hope in life
But came a cloud that stormed away your delight.
You felt that God was not improving your way
Instead he's making you suffer in shame
It madeyou think that God is no more
And heaven and hell is nothing but a dream
Open your eyes and see how do you want God to belive in you if you don't belive in your dream
God is with you that you should believe
He means well but you choose to ignore his existence
As you thought that drinking and partying is the medicine of all pain
You will wrong because the wounds still remain.
Once I came to take your hand
You trusted me although I wasn't your plan
You had friend whom trust you can not attain
Except me who you choose to buy me for fame
I was innocent but I loved you truly
I didn't understand why you would be shy to include me
You would say that I am your friend
While I wanted to be your lover instead
You pushed me away like the wind brushing the leaves
Where all I wanted to have your head rest in my knees.
I haven't thought of any ****** desire.
But your glorious soul was the one I require.
I wanted to say I love you but my tongue just stops me
Although my heart pounds for you so softly
I wanted to show that there is hope on the line
And the God is always by your side
Believe in him and he will help you
Embrace your pain and you will be successful
No one is pain free its part of life
It's just like been stabbed with a knife
The strong learns and moves on which makes him happier as he goes on.
Life is with thorns but I will turn to roses in which you belong.
I hope you appreciate the words I speak
As I say to Helga I love you to the last beat.
This is hard for me to confess my love.
But I said to say it to you before my soul runs out.
As you are struggling through the pain I will hold you hand and guide you to a pleasurable place.
I might not live forever but as long as I live am yours as your shield and if you need anything I dilever.
You are strong woman that's what you are but I will still be there wherever you are.
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 5:42 PM UTC
Whenever you enter my thoughts
A fire begins to burn fiercely in my heart
Destroying everything in its path
Except any positive thoughts
And from my mind, emerges a voice
Saying "You can do it
And you WILL do it!"
Whenever something seems amiss
I think of your struggles
And gradually, do I find myself more capable
Of achieving every task that is set before me
A Harry Houdini, you may not be
However, an inspiration are you, for sure
Because, so much do you care
About righting all the wrongs in our society
Casteism, Hindutva, Islamophobia, gender inequality
Determined are you, to fight hard for social justice
Even if you end up paying a huge price
I consider myself an extremely lucky person
To know such a lovely human being like you
Who talks not through words but actions
Though you are a very loving partner and mother
Rarely, do you showcase your affection and care
Your sheer nerve and bravery would make Godric Gryffindor proud
Your patience, dedication, loyalty and sense of justice would make Helga Hufflepuff proud
Your sharp wit and natural curiosity would make Rowena Ravenclaw proud
And finally
Your sheer ambition, determination and resourcefulness would make Salazar Slytherin proud
Always, will you be my primary motivator
Keep rocking, keep fighting and do take care
May the Almighty bless you forever!!
Aug 27, 2024
Aug 27, 2024 at 4:01 AM UTC
What name can I give you?
Surely there are none
and it is pointless to try,
like giving names to
celestial bodies,
or quantum particles.
I thought I could capture it,
that the gaps would be filled in,
like space between
crocodile teeth
clasped on a zookeeper's hand.
I thought
If I could paint like Wyeth,
I'd have my Helga.
What name do I give you?
Maybe Odessa,
laughing on the crest of a wave,
dragged by purple currents,
among gulls on Earth,
and storms in the sea?
Perhaps Athena,
with gleaming eyes
and an owl in your hand?
Or Queen Maeve,
raw with beauty,
buried upright
facing your enemies?
Infeasible,
but it must be something,
for the shake of necessity,
So as to call out when
loitering on lake's edge,
or from across a room
when I see you there,
uncanny as my reflection
in a convex mirror.
I'll call it out.
It's not that I want to,
but that I do;
Just as frogs jump,
just as the tongue
pushes on the aching tooth,
I see Venice in
cheekbone crevices,
smell Vienna in a tangle of hair.
This tropism is
an elephant stomping
the marrow out of me,
and it's alright,
it feels good,
and Wisdom is her name.
Jul 26, 2020
Jul 26, 2020 at 3:03 PM UTC