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"lucinda" poems
She breathes fire That tastes of the cremation Of her forefathers Their ashes grit In her eyes, spit In her hands She marches Atop marshland Swallowing graves Of their mothers And lovers Her thick, leather skin Wicked and weathered Wields weapons Of resurrection With commanding force She breathes life Into desolate plains She breathes fire And they rise Again
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Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 12:35 AM UTC
Lucinda
On good nights, I like to send messages to space, outer or deeper though direction and dimension are lost on me. I get answers but no translations, no key or stone to this alien and spacy thought. What? You say you bet you could rephrase space in a language even I could understand? After all you passed algebra, walked around school a big shot, finding X or its equals. I should have paid attention, but mine was fixed on Linda, Lucinda, Corinna, Corinna where you been so long? I might have learned the meaning of words from long forgotten gods, frustrated issuing commandments, ok in their day, but ignored now, passé. I was absent for those god talks, apocalypse-isms, missed out on saints with half-moon halos and beatific visions. I heard only rumors of women, words like smitten, enchanted, obsessed with love like striated bark on trees, canals on Mars, rain and that sound that creeps under sod. And so I wait for an unambiguous, intelligible answer from anyone in space.
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Jul 5, 2011
Jul 5, 2011 at 10:22 PM UTC
Stay In School
To Tory and Lucinda, you finally got your poem Ok honey, I’m about to go I’m about to blow a gasket I’ve been working all day Like a regular dog, got up At the crack of dawn. I’ve been saying yes Sir All day at work and I’ve been saying yes M’am all the time to You and now I’m Ready to go. You Can only push a Man so far before He loses the will Or the effort To try and please Someone who Can never be Pleased. I Need to get My things Together And jus’ Reacquaint Myself With Jim Beam Because I’ve been being Good for much too long. Now a good boy's gone bad I’m now taking my time off For bad behaviour.
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May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 8:25 PM UTC
Time Off For Bad Behaviour
She seemed like a nice, pretty girl, so I had invited her to dinner in a small Italian restaurant. Over aperitifs (spritzer for her, scotch for me) she told me about herself. She was twenty years old, she came from Baltimore, her name was Lucinda, but her family called her Lulu. She had a passion for poetry, in fact she had just finished writing a poem, that very day: would I like to hear it? In the circumstances, only one answer was possible. I tried to look suitably impressed, and when eventually it was over, I applauded. "What imagination," I said, "What talent!" She smiled, reached inside her handbag and brought out a sheaf of dog-eared manuscripts. "Dear God," I thought, "There's more!" Oh well; there was still the possibility that after the liqueurs she might ask me back to her place, for *** (Or, as she would probably pronounce it, "coffee".) So on, and on, she went. The little lady had a talent all right: she could recite and eat simultaneously. Neither the pasta puttanesca nor the saltimbocca di vitello could slow down her almost-rhyming couplets. At last, the papers were all returned to the handbag. She looked at me expectantly. "So, do you think I could get my poetry published?" I paused, to consider my answer. But the pause was too long: she looked right into my eyes, sensed my mood, and in that moment knew what the answer had to be. During the dessert she crumpled; large, heavy tears fell silently into her zabaglione. Poor lamb! I'd never wanted to hurt her. She didn't deserve the destruction of her dreams. Who does?
0
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 2:56 PM UTC
Enough, Lucinda! Enough!
She seemed like a nice, pretty girl, so I had invited her to dinner in a small Italian restaurant. Over aperitifs (spritzer for her, scotch for me) she told me about herself. She was twenty years old, she came from Baltimore, her name was Lucinda, but her family called her Lulu. She had a passion for poetry, in fact she had just finished writing a poem, that very day: would I like to hear it? In the circumstances, only one answer was possible. I tried to look suitably impressed, and when eventually it was over, I applauded. "What imagination," I said, "What talent!" She smiled, reached inside her handbag and brought out a sheaf of dog-eared manuscripts. "Dear God," I thought, "There's more!" Oh well; there was still the possibility that after the liqueurs she might ask me back to her place, for *** (Or, as she would probably pronounce it, "coffee".) So on, and on, she went. The little lady had a talent all right: she could recite and eat simultaneously. Neither the pasta puttanesca nor the saltimbocca di vitello could slow down her almost-rhyming couplets. At last, the papers were all returned to the handbag. She looked at me expectantly. "So, do you think I could get my poetry published?" I paused, to consider my answer. But the pause was too long: she looked right into my eyes, sensed my mood, and in that moment knew what the answer had to be. During the dessert she crumpled; large, heavy tears fell silently into her zabaglione. Poor lamb! I'd never wanted to hurt her. She didn't deserve the destruction of her dreams. Who does?
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6
They said Keith couldn't *** without a finger up his *** they said Ruth was a **** for not sleeping with her man. They said George was a woman because he couldn't grow a beard, they said Molly was autistic, because she was a little bit weird. They said Mr. Winchester was a ********** because he wore an overcoat, they said Ms. Wheeler as a witch, and once sacrificed a goat. They said Mr. Winter was so fat, he was more or less bulletproof, they said Ms. Walker was not attractive, but if it came to it: she'd have to do. They said Lucinda was thin because she chose not to eat, sitting by the bathroom doors in the lunchtime canteen. They said Leonard was a ****** with his long, blonde hair, they said Luke was a downy because of his vacant stare. They said Mr. Fresco was a drinker who beat his wife at home, they said Ms. Finkel was a ********** seen standing out in the cold. They said an awful lot of things that decayed away over time, but it takes a strength to train the mind to not trod the tracks of a lifetime past, to keep yourself to who you are, not those ancient words, nor those faded scars.
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Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 1:50 PM UTC
The Rumour Mill
Everyone knows its a bad part of town, no one lives there by choice. Its this place called The Heat down at the corner of holy gate and 1-deuce-deuce. There a girl there, her real names Lucinda, they say friends call her luci, which is short for Lucifer, and she works in The Heat which is slick for hell. They say she's called bass "cause it look'a like a wide mouth bass smell 'bout da same" Nicknames and false alibis. Luci works the Heat on taco Tuesdays. They say she'll serve it hot for ten a song. Fish taco Tuesdays. They joke that it always smells like tuna anyways even without fish taco Tuesdays. They say on a good Friday, The Heat almost becomes bearable and every body watches old bass swinging widemouthed and tasseled around every pole in the bar. But I can't bare it, the kind of sadness in places like this where they serve up breakfast and Tuesday specials for ten dollars a song.
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Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 8:09 PM UTC
The Heat
I kept quiet as a mouse Soppy did too; we stayed snake close to the ground in the tall grass we didn't hear no hounds, but that didn't mean them dogs weren't there Soppy and I had done what old lady Lucinda said--waded in the deep creek a good hour to leave them curs nothin' to sniff with my one clear eye I could see them flames bobbin' up and down like gold ghosts in the willows the air smelled like rain I prayed real hard it would come down drown out them fires that would be one mighty sign the good Lord heard my prayers and took pity on us Soppy, me and whatever other souls hid in the devil's dark, watchin' the flames, fearin' they meant eternal damnation
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Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 10:58 PM UTC
torches in the woods*
To Lucinda There you stand in the door And after all the fights we’ve been through When the-you-know-what hit the you-know-where You still can bear to look at me I see the tears twinkle in your eyes I see the hands on your hip And I dread to think what you’ve got to face They way you’re working over your top kip You never shout, you just look disappointed Your eyes say: ‘back down that stony road’ And now even though I hurt you You helped pick your girlfriend up out of the road Because there was a ****** old truck coming She just broke down to bawl And yet after all that You’re a proud woman standing tall You sit down on the bed next to me And you speak ever so slightly I feel your warm breath on me In the cool of the Texas night You say, ‘Oh Dan here we are again, I thought we talked about this.’ She’s out there crying in the other room You should know nothing goes amiss And if I get caught in here you know I’m going to be dead meat too’. I apologise profusely, counting my blessings You just look at me like you always do. ‘Now, you know I got to go console her You know I’ve got to go and get supplies Of tissues and Kleenex and toilet rolls But please just give it time Let everyone cool down, storms always blow over It’s the only way a friendship can be saved With that she left, back to the toilet a girl bereft And as I heard the sobbing I know I’d take that to my grave.
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Jun 6, 2012
Jun 6, 2012 at 9:10 PM UTC
I Just Need A Little Time To Sort Myself Out
To Tory, Lucinda and Brioche. The poem you deserve. She’s no good at being phoney She never tells a good lie She knows when I got to be alone She tells me when I’m too high She always walks beside me Never too far too far behind And whatever I seem to do She stays in that good place all the time Because no matter what I say And no matter what I make out to believe She will always be a special lady Especially special to me She’s got that heart of gold within her She’s got the ability to keep the pace She doesn’t take no crap from me She’ll **** well put me in my place And yet at the same time she’s gentle She understands why I am like I am And I know there will be soft words Whenever I need a helping hand. I think these women are one in a million Richer than any gold or diamond ore And I hope in the future that Their boyfriends won’t want any more Because they’re good women as they are It’s quite plain to see They invite me round to play cards And let me watch Eurovision on TV I’ve never been welcomed so much I’ve never felt less alone When these girls are around me I don’t need to wander cos I’m home And when I blow a fuse over something That’s really been driving me round the bend They just smile and shrug their shoulders When it’s time to start over again. She is so good to me, it’s true. I know I have many faults as a man But when I see those eyes, I’m not stupid I know how lucky I am. X
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May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 9:06 PM UTC
She's So Good For Me
I was born for misery in every way When God came by I was fast asleep when the devil spoke he said I was cheap When opportunity knocked my door was hollow when chances were given I insisted to borrow When marathons were ran I broke my bone when houses were given I lost my home When life was produced, Lucinda was taken when love was excepted, mine was foresakan When intelligence was tested I was dumb when reflexes were tried I became numb When fathers were there mine was gone when statistics were taken mine were wrong I am born for misery in every way When God speaks I do not hear when the devil threatens I do not fear When opportunity knocks I answer slow when chances are given I never know When marathons are ran I walk along the side when projects get restless I run and hide When inteligence is tested I do not study when reflexes are tried, I am never ready When first looking out I could not see when then and now I was born for misery SDPope
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Jan 23, 2010
Jan 23, 2010 at 6:34 PM UTC
Misery Born
...And they’re ******* playing the song Lucinda would sing to Right outside my window After she failed to return my calls Two days ago I laugh It’s all that stops me from crying. I have decided one thing, Me and fate don’t like each other. Perhaps cos I told him I never needed him. I know this much If fate was a person I’d be punching him in the fucking face Right about now.
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Jun 9, 2012
Jun 9, 2012 at 1:38 PM UTC
Oh The Irony of It (Follow Up To A Moment of Bliss with Lucinda/Tory/Brioche/ before I fell)
Twelve years of difference I still can't stay away I've been swept up in your voice And pulled into your games The thought of loving you petrifies me But the thought of forgetting you stabs   It seems I'm stuck; not a soul at my side Doomed to wander, heartbroken, through the lands Here I stand in the darkness As my heart swells at the mention of your name Our story is as great as Daniel and Lucinda Yet, I bet we could put them to shame So, as the days are rolling by so slowly And I just wish to call you mine I'll sing the song of a hopeless romantic Trapped in the wrong time
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Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC
Song of a Hopeless Romantic
For Lucinda Lucinda, Lucinda Why didn’t I realise The goodness that lay in your heart The redemption that lay in your eyes I feel so unworthy All that you did for me. In one moment of anger I threw it away carelessly I said somethings I didn’t mean And I foolishly left for a while Thinking that I could make it on my own But I returned dejected to a smile They way you hug me You hug me like you really do Mean it, god, I feel so unworthy. I’ve never met a woman so true With such a heart of gold I just stand back in awe The way you forgive what I’d rather forget You find perfection where others see flaws God must be a woman No other being could hold such love There’s not a day that doesn’t go by. When I don’t that the Good Man above For bringing women like you into my life Because I was going god knows where to this day For all the time I spent alone You made me feel like I wanted to stay I know I’d be happy if I knew I was your man You build me up when I don’t feel tall I am just standing here in awe Girl, now I’ve seen it all
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Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 7:44 AM UTC
Now I've Seen It All
For Lucinda I tightened my bandana On my sun-kissed skin I rubbed my three-day beard God, I need a shave God, I was going god knows where I thought I was heading for old El Paso As I picked my pack from the floor But I stopped as I started for the door. Life is just empty When you’re walking alone. So wherever you’re going, girl I want to go there with you. I sit there and watch you sleep So innocent and so peaceful. Last night’s cherry lipstick Last night’s Vanilla ***** You gave me the freedom to stay; Lucinda I could ramble a thousand miles But what Good would it do? I’d still hurt in the old familiar way I’d just be sweating I could go coast to coast, seaboard to seaboard And never find the light But the light’s right here, in your eyes, You gave me the freedom to stay. I sit on the bed and just look Look at you in awe What’s the point in chasing a falling star? When the light’s in your heart Why keep on running, when here you are? I could ramble a thousand miles And never see the light in your eyes again.
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Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 7:36 AM UTC
You Gave Me The Freedom To Stay
Lucinda, Lucinda Why didn’t I realise The goodness that lay in your heart The redemption that lay in your eyes I feel so unworthy All that you did for me. In one moment of anger I threw it away carelessly I said somethings I didn’t mean And I foolishly left for a while Thinking that I could make it on my own But I returned dejected to a smile They way you hug me You hug me like you really do Mean it, god, I feel so unworthy. I’ve never met a woman so true With such a heart of gold I just stand back in awe The way you forgive what I’d rather forget You find perfection where others see flaws God must be a woman No other being could hold such love There’s not a day that doesn’t go by. When I don’t thank the Good Man above For bringing women like you into my life Because I was going god knows where to this day For all the time I spent alone You made me feel like I wanted to stay I know I’d be happy if I knew I was your man You build me up when I don’t feel tall I am just standing here in awe Girl, now I’ve seen it all
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Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 7:44 AM UTC
Now I've Seen It All
Little lady, my perfect neice Unconditonal love will never cease Captivated by your smile Important to me by a mile Never will you need a thing Delicate angel without wings Aunty Katie wrote you this (written with love and sealed with a kiss)
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Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 5:30 PM UTC
LUCINDA
Smile, he said and it’ll all be over soon She forced a smile upon her face Her head turned away He thought she loved it too In a dark lit motel room Unwashed curtains partly open Upon her face that smile retained And with it, the pain of what she did every night Lucinda from Annawan came Left school and moved away The promise of a job well paid That’s the pull that took her away But when the factory closed, she still needed food and to be clothed, that’s when things got desperate And so she walked the streets, holes in her shoes, water in her feet Stain upon the dress she tried to keep neat, her hair blowing in the breeze “How much do you think you’re worth” this guy whispered into her ear “I used to think a lot, but maybe now not so much, how much have you got ? my dear” And so that was that, men would come and men would go Slip her money and never look back, time passed so slow By 1984, she saved and saved Even got her own little place A child, a cat and bills were paid, Only because of her body that was worth more than the living wage. At night she would work Her boy all tucked up in bed "you know the score I’ll be home in the morning" That was what Lucinda said But in the day she didn’t sleep, she just sat up and cried At the end of the day she had little money, and in her home she had no pride With every man that came, they took a piece of her soul Until at the age of 34 she looked so old That’s when business was slow, times got hard real fast, like the youth and beauty she took for granted her money ran out fast Until all that’s left was some hollow shell of a woman, her eyes still cry in the daylight, for that soul she sold for money
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Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 4:10 PM UTC
Money for your soul
Smile, he said and it’ll all be over soon She forced a smile upon her face Her head turned away He thought she loved it too In a dark lit motel room Unwashed curtains partly open Upon her face that smile retained And with it, the pain of what she did every night Lucinda from Annawan came Left school and moved away The promise of a job well paid That’s the pull that took her away But when the factory closed, she still needed food and to be clothed, that’s when things got desperate And so she walked the streets, holes in her shoes, water in her feet Stain upon the dress she tried to keep neat, her hair blowing in the breeze “How much do you think you’re worth” this guy whispered into her ear “I used to think a lot, but maybe now not so much, how much have you got ? my dear” And so that was that, men would come and men would go Slip her money and never look back, time passed so slow By 1984, she saved and saved Even got her own little place A child, a cat and bills were paid, Only because of her body that was worth more than the living wage. At night she would work Her boy all tucked up in bed "you know the score I’ll be home in the morning" That was what Lucinda said But in the day she didn’t sleep, she just sat up and cried At the end of the day she had little money, and in her home she had no pride With every man that came, they took a piece of her soul Until at the age of 34 she looked so old That’s when business was slow, times got hard real fast, like the youth and beauty she took for granted her money ran out fast Until all that’s left was some hollow shell of a woman, her eyes still cry in the daylight, for that soul she sold for money
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35
Thank you to mystery girl, Who showed me life can still be fun. Thank you to Lucinda Who showed me I'm not as bad as my mind sees. Thank you to SPT Who showed me what being a grown up really means. That sometimes life will not be in your favour, But still enjoy it. Thank you to Nameless Who showed me that there's always someone who can help, That sometimes giving up is the best option. Thank you to Impeccable Space Poettess, Who showed me that sometimes a little care goes a long way, Thank you to Julie Who showed me that no matter how heavy a heartbreak is, It will come to pass. That although people walk different paths, The experiences are similar. Thank you to Mandie Who showed me that if you follow your dreams, You will find your happy place.
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Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 12:01 PM UTC
Thank You Hello Poetry
Muse, Fée Ensorceleuse, Lucinda Darling ! Ce matin je me suis réveillé Castrat Enlacéré Strephon et Philander Avec un air sur l'oreiller Ton parfum libertin qui dansait baroque Au milieu d'une jungle d'alto, violoncelles, Violons et contrebasse. Entre couplets et refrain Cet air pour soprano Cette douce suite incidentale M'a envahi dès la première mesure de l'été Tu étais Aphra. J'étais Jemmy Et en même temps Maure, Abdelazer défiguré Et toi Lucinda, transfigurée par Purcell, Tu fredonnais en anglais "Lucinda is bewitching fair All o'er engaging is her Air In ev'ry song Lucinda's fam'd She is the Queen of Love proclaim'd "
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Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 1:58 PM UTC
Un air sur l'oreiller
As Jerome played the violin, she hung there suspended between the light in his eyes and the veins in his hands. She, intent on the melody only saw what a lover sees, only heard the sweet whisper of love in the air and Jerome played on unaware that Lucinda was hanging there and his hands wove the thread that kept her suspended. I have a feeling that Lucinda depended on that.
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Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 8:32 AM UTC
By the Temple