"lollies" poems
Perfection is terrible, it cannot have children.
Cold as snow breath, it tamps the womb
Where the yew trees blow like hydras,
The tree of life and the tree of life
Unloosing their moons, month after month, to no purpose.
The blood flood is the flood of love,
The absolute sacrifice.
It means: no more idols but me,
Me and you.
So, in their sulfur loveliness, in their smiles
These mannequins lean tonight
In Munich, morgue between Paris and Rome,
Naked and bald in their furs,
Orange lollies on silver sticks,
Intolerable, without mind.
The snow drops its pieces of darkness,
Nobody's about. In the hotels
Hands will be opening doors and setting
Down shoes for a polish of carbon
Into which broad toes will go tomorrow.
O the domesticity of these windows,
The baby lace, the green-leaved confectionery,
The thick Germans slumbering in their bottomless Stolz.
And the black phones on hooks
Glittering
Glittering and digesting
Voicelessness. The snow has no voice.
28 January 1963
20.6k
Lollies are sweet
Lemons are sour
Open your legs and give me one hour
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 6:09 AM UTC
while looking out my window i heard the ice cream man
there out side my door with his ice cream van
there were lots of children standing all around
attracted by the van with its funny sound
they were buying lollies and and a chocolate ice
buying lots of things that looked so very nice
when the crowd had cleared i bought my self a treat
i was like a child again eating something sweet.
Mar 24, 2010
Mar 24, 2010 at 8:12 AM UTC
while looking out my window i heard the ice cream man
there out side my door with his ice cream van
there were lots of children standing all around
attracted by the van with its funny sound
they were buying lollies and and a chocolate ice
buying lots of things that looked so very nice
when the crowd had cleared i bought my self a treat
i was like a child again eating something sweet.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 1:38 PM UTC
while looking out my window i heard the ice cream man
there out side my door with his ice cream van
there were lots of children standing all around
attracted by the van with its funny sound.
they were buying lollies and and a chocolate ice
buying lots of things that looked so very nice
when the crowd had cleared i bought my self a treat
i was like a child again eating something sweet.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 8:46 AM UTC
My early memory of farm,
Blackfella’s hill, banana sand,
exploring, chasing rabbits.
And riding round with grandpa,
in the white and well loved station wagon
checking sheep, windmill and chooks.
The lollies in the tin were there,
to help him stay awake at night;
but grandchildren were once allowed
to sample from the tin of treats,
in longer trips with grandparents,
while out on country roads.
The farm, a favourite place of mine,
away from school and normal life,
but Modb’ry North not quite the same.
With grandpa still out shearing though,
the farm-like feel not far away,
and granny kept a strawb’rry patch.
I went a-shearing with him once,
About six customers that day
and I can’t count the load of sheep.
I earned five dollars on that day,
while travelling around in ute
with shearing stuff all in the back.
His love of music satisfied,
the grandchildren are all gifted,
the music played from instruments
of cello, clarinet and bass
of flute, piano, violin,
and voice as well from Kate and Jo
Called grandpa day or dad or Doug
he’ll be remembered, days to come.
The stories will be told and told
of happenings while he was here,
from farm or Modb’ry North or else,
from other places he has been.
Aug 17, 2011
Aug 17, 2011 at 11:01 AM UTC
see little Tommy
no, you can’t see him in the trolley -
like a monkey
or a possum on the tree
he’s well-hidden
so expert, as mom
pushes the trolley
through the aisles
And then nimbly
he crawls out
and hangs by the handle
feet on the brackets
still hidden
and suddenly drops
on the floor
light as baby Tarzan
And Mom says: “Tommy!”
and Tommy laughs
and climbs back into the trolley
like a little Alexander on a metal Bucephalus
and there he stands commandeering
the trolley: “Cheese, mum! Lollies! Lollies!”
And Mum says to Little Tommy:
“Shhh! Shhh! Shhh!”
But little Tommy
he’s the Master and Commander
and pirate
but mostly the monkey
on the shopping trolley
down the aisles and down the corridors
and the food court
sliding and jumping and hiding
in his fantasy world of the trolley
see little Tommy -
no, you can’t see him in the trolley
like a monkey
or a possum on the tree
he’s well-hidden
so expert in the trolley
he so happily commands
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 9:01 AM UTC
Take me to the Rookery with its many paths
A tea house selling refreshments in pretty glass
Three striped lollies covered in chocolate beads
Biscuits and sandwich are all that we need.
The garden was set out, in brick oblong beds
Raised from the ground and divided by hedge
Many bush roses, of the older kind, smelling of
Cold cream and sweet camomile.
There was a terrace with steps leading down
To a sunken garden where the roses reclined
Hanging over arbours, pink , white and cream
And other perennials added to the scene.
This place a haven at the top of Streatham hill
Does anybody know it, it might be there still?
My daddy took me often on a Sunday afternoon
To ramble in the sunshine, and play at my will.
Love Mary x
Jun 15, 2018
Jun 15, 2018 at 8:02 AM UTC
so my little girl Joanne was sick
slight fever and just looking weak
so I took her to the doctor
a kind old man with a calm voice
and he looked at Joanne and he said:
"So what's bothering you, my dear?"
and Joanne answered
at lightning speed:
*"Anne, my little sis! She's always
wanting my lollies!"*
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 7:58 PM UTC
Easter Saturday morn, turned out to be wet and forlorn
no matter the weather we're cosy n' warm, together
Two sleeping felines intertwined twitching
tails n' noses
One Nan, with knee rug, knitting bag full
of wool n'lollies
One Mama baking up treats, whilst,
singing bad operettas.
Then there's me and my Da,
creating a blanket castle
A mighty fort of fabric n' cushions, chairs n' tables
No other place I'd rather be this soggy, rainy day.
I am a forteener.... and a forteener I will stay.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 9:11 PM UTC
Winter and Spring have long since passed,
cold wind, rain and frost belong in the past,
darkness thankfully no longer descends as fast,
long hot summer days arrive at long last!
Colourful flowers and plants, trees and shrubs
burst forth from hanging baskets, gardens and tubs
outside homes and shops, hotels and pubs;
brightening roadsides, roundabouts, parks and golf clubs.
Exams are over and school is finally done,
children everywhere mad to get out in the sun,
playing outside all day, having such great fun,
warm summer days being enjoyed by almost everyone.
People everywhere outside busy doing something;
weeding, mowing, watering, general gardening;
cleaning cars, washing windows, mending or painting,
or simply sitting out with the neighbours, gossiping!
Time for sunglasses, sun cream, getting a tan,
Wimbeldon, music festivals, holidays to plan,
ice lollies, ninety nines from the ice cream van,
water shortages of course and the annual hose pipe ban!
Time for day trips, sports, to picnic or sunbathe,
for the park or the beach, to swim or just wade,
to get burnt to a crisp or just relax in the shade,
for beer gardens, barbeques as the sun starts to fade!
People making the most of each sunny summer day,
determined to enjoy the sun, lap up every last ray,
each enjoying the summer in their own particular way,
“Long may it last”, people around the country pray!
For not getting a summer seems to be our worst fear,
but thankfully the summer seems to be finally here.
All around the country there is a party atmosphere
such a shame it cannot be like this all through the year!
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 3:59 AM UTC
have a munch
on a thing
let it drip
to your chin
falling crumbs
on your chest
that rise with
your breast
blowing up
in your head
from your tongue
at the taste
have a thing
of a drink
leave the plate
at the sink
with everything
you think
with any thing
you munch
like lollies
for dessert
and snacks
for your lunch
you talk
when you chew
makes you crazy
when you crunch
that nibble
that you do
the little lick
at our love
Feb 3, 2022
Feb 3, 2022 at 6:16 PM UTC
The Whirring of the fan in the dark
As I lay on the cotton sheet
Sleep eluding me, perspiration finding me
This blasted Delhi heat
In the burning orange of the noon
The rickshaw tires play with the dust
And all is silent like a black n white film
It's just screaming in the color of rust
Neem trees, dried leaves
And the buzzing of the evening flies
Time to chase the ice lollies vendor
As the temple bell tolls by
Along comes the night again
Heaving and spewing, choking on fiery stars
Already restless for the next season
Oh why are Delhi winters so far
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 6:25 PM UTC
Under all the days that I have lived
Are you, my family, carrying bags
Filling my shoes with pebbled love
Running the last steps to catch up.
Hands splash out the blue circles
Where lollies drip Coca Cola ice
Wet towelling holding us so close
An avenue of trees to walk home.
Love Mary x
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 8:53 AM UTC
At long last summer is here,
Time to lounge in the garden
And then have a beer.
My porch is boiling,
Have opened my front door.
No more Winter toiling,
This sun I do adore.
The bees are busy buzzing,
They’ve got a lot to do.
Those flowers they still are budding,
And there’s a lazy-rhyme for you.
Ready for your mid-year hollies?
You bet I am, you say.
Ice cream and lollies,
You’ll soon be on your way.
The beach will sure get busy,
No parking on the prom.
Lemonade so fizzy,
Going down like a bomb.
Great time for walking,
Out in the countryside.
Lots of time for talking
Or going for a ride.
My favourite cove awaits me.
A time to really chill out.
It really will be stress-free,
Time to have a scout.
Yes I really love summer,
That’s all I have to say.
Time to be a newcomer:
I’m on my way.
Paul Butters
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 5:59 AM UTC
in my child's eye...
it is possible,
for a frog, to choose to fly.
a dog to dance and
cats to swim.
it is possible,
to build a castle,
up into the sky.
to converse with stars.
for elephants to drive,
tiny cars.
it is possible,
that the world,
is without sin
and washed clean,
each morning,
which is to be met
with an insouciant grin.
it is possible,
to befriend the child
you just met....
no matter what creed
or colour.
it is possible,
to forgive
and live,
without regret
and to sleep
at night
without any stress.
it is possible,
at that age,
to know ....
a dollar found upon
the sidewalk,
is a treasure
of great proportions,
if made into,
lollies and shared,
with friends.
it is possible...
that fish can write stories
and possums delight
it is possible to count
a monkey as a friend.
it is possible to ride
kangaroos and
adventure to Timbuctoo
it is possible,
to love spaggetti
as much as your mother.
to make the new kitten,
your brother.
it is possible,
to love your dad
even when he is silly
or mad...
all this is possible...
....and much more
when you are just,
one year, past four...
...and you have a
sunny, lovable disposition
and the world has yet to
find the time, to revise
the freedoms of your amazingly beautiful mind...
it is possible....
and in many ways
so very probable...
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 7:02 PM UTC
goodbye, Mickey
gone to the great big
Boystown in the sky
you were my saturday
afternoons.
you, Spencer Tracey
and 20cents of mixed lollies
in front of the old b&w;,T.V.
your angelic smile
and cheeky bad boy ways.
one day i was going to
marry you.
but then life changed.
today, when i heard
the news
i went back to that time
so thank you Mr Rooney
for those simple days
vale, vale.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC
Day turns to night, crowds on the road,
Bonfires ignite, bangers explode.
Fireworks fly high, burst in the air
Dogs bark and cry, smoke everywhere.
Chinese lanterns float way on high
Flicker and burn, light up the sky.
Candle-lit pumpkins that terrorise
With wicked grins and evil eyes.
Cobwebs, spiders, vampires and bats
Ghosts and monsters, witches black cats,
Skeletons skulls, crosses, tomb stones
Look wonderful haunting most homes.
Children galore take to the street
Knock on each door, play trick or treat
Costumes vary, monsters and such
Some quite scary, some not so much
Bags big and small, buckets or tins,
Carried by all to keep treats in.
Getting goodies at every door,
Bars and lollies and so much more;
Monkey nuts, gum, fruit and sweets too
Money from some, a coin or two.
Kids excited, loving it all,
Each delighted with their own haul.
Halloween treats like colcannon,
Barmbracks with a ring in each one,
Traditional games for everyone,
Snap apple great Halloween fun.
Scary stories of days gone by,
Horror movies to terrify,
Howls and screams, nervous laughter,
Many bad dreams for weeks after.
There is no other night like Halloween,
People more frightened than they've ever been.
A great occasion for young and old,
Cannot wait for the next one, truth be told.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 11:28 AM UTC
From grey plaster dwellin’s they come to us
fer enough sun t’ melt their lollies but
after sun-burnt migrations, some remain
as they can choose our shacks fer their castles
and their spawn breaks the spines on each weaver
and fer their red-faced fuss ‘e is broken.
The ‘ermit crab too takes ‘is leave broken.
The ‘ome ‘e made now closed to all of us
Not passed by ta’ooed ‘ands o' net weavers.
The painted shells still litter these streets but
suited slugs paint gray on our small castles
till only mockin’ shades of age remain.
“Shave off, bastards’ll pick till none o’ yer remain”
screamed mad John as relaters “fixed ‘im” broken
into some plastic ‘ouse from ‘is castle.
‘ow ‘e used t’ tell those old tales to us
'o the deep places and the things there but
they ‘ad ‘im by the gills, poor old weaver.
Spines down, in nets made by ‘is own weavin.
we did it to ourselves, we can’t remain
Wi’ nets o’ money, o’ ***** o’ smokes, but
black flags still fly, bein’ bent never broken.
Cross-bone attractions will be left as us
‘eld by those who took away our castles
Stormin’ beaches to kick down our castles
the sandy ‘oles and ‘ides of those weavers.
Sellin’ our anger like lug, dear to us
cast from the sea of us that will remain
‘ook lipped, ring-eared, ink-stained and not broken
nothin’ t’ be fixed and no-one changed but
In come those nets, I ‘aint been caught yet but
that gray, that London gray sweeps my castle
away where the concrete can’t be broken
t’ reach lug beneath dried surface weavers
as gulls break beaks t’ peck at the remains.
yes, we’ll eat each-other if they take us.
Take enough of us, and leave shell castles
no ‘ands to ‘old jolly Rodgers and sing
‘appily swear, or dance on tables but
**** that.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 8:10 PM UTC
Give me a Coca Cola party number 1
And boot conservos up the ***
All they care is their 4 bedroom house yeah mate yeah
Give me a Coca Cola party
Number 2
As we watch the singer do the boogaloo and then we crack open that bottle and spray it on
Their uncle oh how cool
Give me a Coca Cola party
Number 3
Simon finally puts up the Christmas tree
First he puts the tinsel and then the bells and an angel to go on top ph yeseree
Give me a Coca Cola party
Number 5
After those 5 cokes I feel alive
I jump up and down to every song I heard on the radio
Nice and high
Give me a Coca Cola party
Number 6
The nice Coca Cola will give me
A nice sugar fix
As I slam it down, it goes through my body
Yeah if also rots my teeth
Give me a Coca Cola party number 7
Coke is so bad for you I want to send if to oblivion
But the more I see santa or Sydney swans or the big Coke truck red and white is the key
Give me a Coca Cola party number 8
Instead of roast dinners I prefer Cola lollies on my plate
You see as I ate each one
I sank into a garlic naan
The lollies gave it a sweet taste
Give me a Coca Cola party number 9
I would take my Coke and walk around the party introducing myself saying hi, my name is Brian and I told one man I hate the liberal party
Cause they don't like the poor
Give me a Coca Cola party
Number 10
While doing your tapestry you have your 2 litre Coke near you like your one of the real men
But people say cokes a kids drink and I say to you this
****** oathe I am a cool kid
Give me a Coca Cola party
Number 11
If you keep drinking that stuff
You'll end up in heaven
But not in a good way
You will be with tony Grieg
And Norman may
How cools that
Give me a Coca Cola party
Number 12
Have a few quite cokes with santa and his elves
After Christmas Day
When they load all the presents into the sleigh
Party party party
Give me a Coca Cola party
Number 13
If the Coca Cola party was a kid
He would be finally in his teens
But he will say to his uncle
Have I got the muscle
To enjoy drinking Coke oh yeah
Give me a Coca Cola party
Number 14
Every kid was nice to people
But me mate I was really naughty
So santa gave me no presents
And scounged around my house for money
To buy a nice 2 litre bottle
Of Coke
Give me a Coca Cola party
Number 15
When I go for a run I feel tired
And a bit sweaty
The Coke slows me down mate
Please don't lose your entire
Top row mate stop drinking Coke
Merry Christmas Coke lovers
Past and present
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 7:51 AM UTC
Princess Lollypoppy is going to school
Albeit kiddy school, it's still school
Many friends will she make
Possibly some hearts she would break
Maybe now's a good time for her to gather her troops
For the kingdom she intends to overtake
Surely three and four year olds will listen to her
She'll give them lollies in exchange for their loyal regard
Her plans are in motion
A coup is underway
Wait a minute, what is Prince Lollypoopsie doing in the door way!
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 1:37 AM UTC
Chana had a bike
and I had a scooter
she moaned a lot
and I did not
she wore clothes
her mother said
she had to wear
I wore
what was left to wear
from the day before
she loved sweets
and ice lollies
I loved licorice sticks
and sarsaparilla
she hated vegetables
and meat pies
I hated liver
and fish with eyes
she said
why don't you
go play elsewhere
and leave
my brother to me?
go ask your brother
I said
and then we'll see
he said not her but me
so Chana went off
in a huff
riding her bike
like a bat
from Hell
Chana
was my best friend's
sister not
(thank God) my girl.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
hurt never hurt so much
it's in the songs we cry
in the silent screams
that let our demons
know
where we hide
pain causes more pain
like a dull and rusty knife
cutting away vestiges
of a heart that pretends
it beats
with life
wishes are lollies
in candy dishes
a folly
that they taste
as sweet as they look
dirt is thrown
diverting a hurt
to atone
shredding the pages
of an unread book
Aug 18, 2012
Aug 18, 2012 at 1:21 AM UTC
Black hair
like oodles of shoelaces
on the surface.
Skin turns to tough rubber,
fingers are lollies
left to freeze in a dank cave.
Above, a melting sky,
wonky blue and white
too far from wrinkled hands.
Electronic voices stutter
into her ears, a gargly reply
floats to nowhere.
Each second adds up,
each second closer to blackout,
perhaps a slow-motion wave cheerio?
She drifts deeper down,
a wrecked puppet
asleep in the sea.
Unable to inhale,
throat begins to scrunch
like a paper cup.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 3:53 PM UTC
tired
eyes
bright
screens
water-wanting
lips
fingers clicking carelessly
hopes
and wishes
of a small gold
coin
to buy
a stack
of
many
many
lollies
...naughties
chocolates
and invisibility
cloaks
the dread
of the coming
dreads
the hopes
of the
future
the grumbling
stomachs
and whispered
hellos
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 3:53 AM UTC