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Robyn Dec 2014
Hey Papa, it's me. It's been a while. I get it. I don't remember your voice anymore. I forgot Nanny's a long time ago, but I kinda hoped I'd be able to hang on to yours. You turned 79 yesterday. We had chocolate cake from Haggen, the kind you like. I couldn't eat any. But it had a snowman on it. You would've liked it.
I'm almost 17 now. There's a lot of things I wish I could say to you. A lot of things I wish you could say to me. I only knew you for 10 years. I'm jealous that Kellie knew you for 16. She got more time with you, more trips to Long Beach with you than I ever did. She got more time with Nanny too. Much more time. I only got 6 years with her. When I think about it, she was almost a stranger. I don't even remember her accent. I didn't even know she had one. Dads impersonations in stories aren't enough for me. His impersonations of you aren't either. They make me laugh but I hate laughing at people I don't really know.
If I really didn't know you it might make it easier on me. You'd really be a stranger. But you weren't. I hugged you and spent time at your house. I remember your cats and your TV and your pile of firewood. I remember our dish of York Peppermint Patties. I remember the piles of leaves in your yard that Kellie and I would jump in and I remember your tiny lake. I remember our treehouse. It was really Kellie's treehouse. But I liked to think I'd get my own one day. I didn't.

You wore think glasses and you never took off your hat. You smoked for 60 years and my Dad was your only child. You had 4 step sons that you raised but I don't know them all. I never met Michael. Did Nanny cry when Michael was born that way? Did she blame herself? Or the nuns at the hospital who crossed her legs until the doctor got there? Could she feel Michael struggling for air? He died at 38. He really is a stranger. Uncle Al lives in Maine, I haven't seen him since you left us. Uncle John used to live in Marysville but he and Aunt Pamm live in California now. He's only my second favorite uncle because he's really the only other one I knew. He's in remission from lung cancer. He still smokes. I'm not sure what he's trying to get rid of by doing it but it's not cancer. Aunt Pamm is a Buhddist I think. I don't really know either of them.
Uncle Brian and Aunt Terri came to visit on Tuesday. After a couple cigarettes Dad and Brian started talking, like always. They sat there and shared memories as if it was just them in the room. We all watched like they were on TV. They talked about you and Nanny. I laughed and remembered little about you and even less about her.

Kellies married now. His name is Tim. You'd have really liked him. He's tough and funny and kind. He hikes and knows how to weld and forge and build things. I was always jealous of her, you know. She had the boys, and the height, and the talent. She's a better artist and a better singer. She learned more from you than I ever could. She always wanted to. I wanted to play with my toys and watch TV while you taught her how to split a log and identify plants and grow carrots and use a machete. I hate myself for that. I'm the indoor cat that gets fat and drains your bank account at the vet, Kellie was the outdoor cat that brought you rats and squirrels and knew how to hunt. I know you loved both of us, but I wish I would've been there with you like she was.

I wish I hadn't ever seen you cough of blood at the dinner table. I wish you'd lived longer, to see me in my formative years, to tell me all the stories Dad tries to. I wish you could've told me what you thought about Nanny getting baptized on her hospital bed weeks before she left. I wonder if that had any affect on you before you left. I wish I'd known if you missed her. I know you did, I would've liked to hear you tell me.
I wish you could've met Ryan. You'd like him too. He's funny and sweet and lovely, he's witty enough to keep up with you. And he loves me. I wish you could see it.

I know you loved me, no matter what kind of cat I was. I know life was always hard for you. I know your sons gave you hell and I know you lost your brother and I know you had it rough and I know you watched your dreams get crushed over and over but you were, for the time I knew you, an amazing grandfather. My first thought of you is always a hazy ghost at the edge of my life but that's not true. You were always there for me. I would sit on your lap every Christmas while you read me The Night Before Christmas. You gave me presents, good ones, meaningful ones. You built me a dollhouse. You slipped the Sunday comic strips from your newspaper into my cubby at Sunday School every single week. Somehow. You made Kellie and I a treehouse and a little boat and a little plane. That plane is in my room now. You came over for dinner every week after Nanny died and you ate with us and laughed and hugged me goodbye. The week you died, maybe even the day before, Dad led me down the hallway to your room, to say goodbye. You were weeping like a child and you hugged me so tight and told me you loved me. Your hands were thick and calloused and heavy. The wedding ring that was on your finger, and the one that was on Nannys are both with me now. I take them out sometimes and hold them. I can't tell if the smell of cigarette smoke on them is real or just a fading memory.

You were a blessing on my life, in the way I must have seemed a blessing to yours. I know you and Nanny are together again, I simply do. I know I will see you again, Tom Hazen. And when Dad tells the story about your Jedi powers, or the stort about Nannys time as a cocktail waitress, I'll laugh and I won't feel like I'm laughing at strangers. I love you too.
Sorry for the length. My Grandfather passed away 7 years ago this March. I was 10. His 79th birthday was yesterday. He hasn't left my mind. I had some things I needed to say.
Terry Collett Jul 2014
Alice waited in bed.

She couldn't believe Mary
was to be her new lady's maid.

The nanny had told her
the night before.

Stern looking
she had told her
that Mary was to be
her maid from now on.

There seemed a kind
of relief in the nanny's voice.

Through the night,
Alice thought of it.

The limping thin girl
was to be her own maid.

The thin red hands
to undo and do up
her dresses
and bathe her
and wash her
and take her places.

Mary was in
her own room
in the attic.

Nervous, she was
all fingers and thumbs.

The child was now
her responsibility.

No more washing up
and working in the kitchen
of the big house.

Mrs Broadbeam
was not happy about it.

She would have
to have another now
to train as kitchen maid.

Mary was happy about that.

Maybe her red hands
would have a chance to heal.

She was dressed
in the maid's dress
the nanny had given her
the night before.

It was a bit too big,
but it fitted and was better
than the dresses she wore
in the kitchen which smelt
of cooking and sweat.

She looked at herself
in the old mirror.

She licked her hair damp
to get it to lay down.

The white hat
she had pinned
to her hair.

She smiled
at her reflection.

Alice sat up in bed
as Mary entered.

She looked different,
but she still limped
to the bed.

Have you heard?
Mary asked.

Yes,
Alice said,
you're to be
my own maid.

Mary pulled back
the bed covers
with her red thin fingers
and took Alice's hand gently.

Best get you up
and washed and dressed,
Mary said.

Will your hands
get less red?
Alice asked
looking at the maid's hand
holding hers.

Hope so,
Mary said.

Alice walked with Mary
to the wash bowl  
and Mary poured water in.

Mary undressed Alice
and so began
the washing process.

The warmed water
was better than the cold water
the nanny used
when she did the task.

The washing was gentle
and calm, not forceful
and hurtful as it was
when the nanny did it.

Alice missed her mother
being there. No news
of her since
she had gone away.

Mary was kind
and thoughtful.

She had washed Alice
and dressed her.

That's you all ***** and span,
Mary said.

***** and span?
Alice said.

Neat and clean,
Mary said.

She looked
into Mary's eyes.

There was not
the anger or darkness
as was in
the nanny's eyes.

And when Mary
took her hand
there was not
the pinching or squeezing
like the nanny did.

As Mary limped
to the window
to open it up,

Alice watched her
from behind,
the loose fitting dress,
black and white,
the hair and white hat pinned,

the red hand reaching
for the window latch
to let in air
and Alice smiled
to herself
at the maid
like an angel
standing there.
A NEW LADY'S MAID AND THE LITTLE GIRL ALICE IN 19TH CENTURY ENGLAND.
Patrick Austin Sep 2018
Our Backgrounds before we met...

I'm an only child born in Montana in 1983, from a divided home. Parents divorced at seven, Mom was unstable and unfaithful. Dad obtained custody of me and we moved to Oregon Coast to live with my Grandma. I had unhealthy visits and relationship with Mom thereafter. My Grandma died at 12 and at 13 my Dad remarried an alcoholic woman, I had a strained relationship with them until adulthood when she stopped drinking. I had exposure to trauma; alcoholism, mental illness, verbal abuse and juvenile troubles. I rebelled by using drugs in my late teens and early twenties, I lived on my own for a few years after high school but had little direction.

My bride is the eldest with two little brothers, parents stayed in same area of Portland during childhood with lots of family support and her parents stayed married. They had Christian values but some anger and anxiety issues at home. She was sexually assaulted at 17 and never had good closure with this. She told me her parents didn't provide her enough help with things like this growing up. Status quo was the backbone of the family dynamic, challenging emotions were discouraged. She rebelled by being reckless with herself, financially and sexually. She decided to join the Navy at 19. She lived alone briefly, but mostly with Grandparents & Parents before our marriage.

I loved how we both grew up reading Archie comics. No other girl I had ever met had that in common with me. I think we wanted a surreal life like the one in Riverdale.

2002

She and I were 19 when we first met in my home town on the coast at an arcade. We became friends and secretly liked each other. I was too nervous to ever make a move on her. We traveled together, she stayed with me, we used drugs together and drank at times. One night she drank too much and had *** with a guy I knew at a party. I was devastated by this. She was Navy bound and I didn't see a real future for us. The next morning she left and I didn't talk to her again for two years. I figured she would be gone with the Navy soon and that she must not have been interested in a relationship with me despite the time we spent together.

2003

I was depressed about this rejection. I dated an older woman who was interested in me but was no substitute. I eventually moved to the Portland area to work and live. I still had few plans and was lonely, in or out of the few brief relationships I attempted. I never found someone that I felt safe with or had a true connection, let alone true love. She ended up not following through with the Navy and continued working her way up in her job at the call center. She attended community college and dated a few guys. She dated one guy for a couple of years who was not a good match for her but stayed with him off and on despite issues. His family was wealthy and treated her well. He slept around on her as did she. At one point he gave her an STD. She also had an ongoing affair with a married man in the military that she went to high school with. He had a child and a wife with mental health issues. She was still hurting a lot at times and not always doing well.

2004

She reached out to me via email after two years of no contact. We emailed back and forth a couple times over the next few months. We talked about meeting up. We spoke on the phone and eventually met up in Portland. We had an amazing night getting to know each other again and work past the confusion of our earlier days of friendship. I realized that she did in fact like me before but since I was timid and trying to be proper and take things slowly she didn't understand my motives. She apologized for her actions at the party as well. She claimed she was in a really messed up place and was making bad choices at that time. Getting our feelings out in the open was good and she appreciated my attitude towards being slow to make moves on her when we first met. I was worried about falling for her based on our history but eventually I was determined to give it a shot. We soon after starting dating and being intimate. Our love was extremely powerful and beyond all others we had both experienced. She broke ties with other suitors and shortly after we talked about marriage and started planning a wedding for the next year.

I remember when we first held hands. We were so shakey and she was quivering on my couch as I had my arm around her. We felt so safe with each other. We could finally be ourselves and do what our hearts desired. We knew we were on to something new and so amazing. We were so patient with each other as we navigated our new love and emotional thresholds.

I remember when we saw Matisyahu in concert together. That was a once in a lifetime experience and a life-changing moment for us. I feel it set the tone for things to come in our future.

I remember how creative my proposal to her was, in the Arcade where we first met. I hid the ring in a prize container from one of those claw machines. Pretending I got the ring from inside by reaching into the machine on one knee I was so nervous and wasn't sure if I could pull it off before she caught on. She looked so shocked and surprised. I was so excited she said yes! We took pictures in the photo machine and had burgers afterwards, I'd do all of it all over again just to see her face in that moment.

2005

We found an apartment for us in Portland. I moved in while she was still living back with her parents until the wedding. She had to change her number because the married man she was previously involved with kept calling her about changing her mind about marriage and continuing their relationship. She was offered a job in Denver and we decided to move away together after our sandy wedding in Cannon Beach. I still had a very hard time and was embarrassed with my past history with her. Many of my friends knew what had happened at 19 and how much it hurt me but I was so crazy about her I think I tried to pretend it didn't happen or that it was not a big deal because we were younger. We got married and moved to Colorado soon after. We made friends at a church, I became more active as a Christian and really loved being married. We were very involved in keeping spirituality in our marriage. I began to notice her poor financial decisions and practices more. This caused conflict but we always tried to communicate and work on things.

I remember when we went down to my folks for New Year's in 2005. We sipped tea in my Datsun as we drove to the coast over the snowy mountain pass. We told them of our engagement. We were all so blissful and excited. We never knew what was to come. We didn't even know about the opportunity in Denver yet. Our story is amazing!

I remember when I wanted to go see her in Portland and the roads were iced over. I left my car at a park and ride before I caused a wreck. I took the light rail across town then rode a bus to the Eastside shopping mall. The bus to her house was not running because it wasn't safe so I walked the rest of the 4 Miles sometimes having to crawl on my hands and knees to make it up hills in the ice and then I finally made it only to just spend a couple hours with her and fall asleep on her parents couch. Her Dad drove us back the next morning to my car so I could get to work. It was all worth it just to see her for that little extra time. I would have done anything for her.

I remember when she was interviewing for the new position in Denver? I drove all over Portland trying to find little toy cars to help with her illustration about how a team is like a car having all four wheels and how they work together to accomplish a goal. I was so proud of her for giving it her all and succeeding at earning that position. Now that I think of it, that car analogy applies to our family and us. We all need each other to be better and keep on track and be a team. I am so motivated by that and our boys. I lose my way without that and I want to be her reflection and motivation as she has been that for me. I truly thought we brought out the best in each other when we were together.

I remember when we were given tickets to see Fiona Apple. That was so spontaneous and a great way to kick off our time in Denver together. We always used to watch our same movies over and over again. Like the Friends DVDs and White Christmas every winter break and The Wedding Singer. We walked everywhere and lived simply. "I wanna be the guy, who grows old with you"

I remember in our first Denver apartment when we took baths together in our claw foot tub in the big bathroom. We put a board over the top and played cards. I liked playing Uno with her in bed too. She was so funny being slightly color blind and in the dark, mixing up the greens and blues. We played Uno in Breckenridge too at that cool bed and breakfast in the fall.

2006

We had continued fun and adventure in our new home of Denver. She was doing well as a trainer for the bank and I started working in health foods. We went camping in New Mexico a couple times with friends and we both took individual trips to Oregon as well as one together for her uncle's wedding. We had marital spats on occasion but always bounced back. The issues we had seemed like part of a normal marriage and were far better than what I had grown up around. I realized that marriage was a lot of work but I was up for the task. She occasionally became aggressive throwing things at me or breaking things during conflict.  I believed I was the problem and tried to change for her in many ways. With two incomes we still had trouble making our bills at times. She had debts that I never knew about that started to catch up with us but I took care of getting them settled and we paid off her car and traded it for an older Volvo Wagon that we both loved, I even had it repainted her favorite color for a birthday gift. Overall things seemed like they were progressing in a positive way.

I remember when we saw Midnight in concert in Boulder. That was the peak of our hippy days. We were alive with pleasure in our healthy vegetarian diets and practices living in a time and place like no other. I want to be like that again. Reggae was our music. We had much in common.

2007

We really fell into our roles in our marriage and the community; church and culture, friends etc. Things seemed very balanced and appropriate for us at that time and that age (24-25). We had separate bank accounts and jobs. I had money in savings. We started the process of buying a house so we could invest in something. She became pregnant shortly after. I embraced the challenge with positive energy but we were both in for a big change. We started having more fights. I didn't have many friends and would write to old friends via social media just so I could to catch up and tell them things were going great with being married to make myself feel better than I actually did. She hated the dawn of social media and also felt isolated I'm sure. She felt I should be doing more for her and I didn't know how to do what she needed but I failed to ask a lot of the time. After one argument, she left the house. My instinct told me to look at ******* and ******* as a retaliation. I had not done this much once we were married because she always met my needs but when things were difficult between us I felt more emotionally isolated. She walked in and realized what I had been doing. She was very upset, and because she was pregnant, thought I was not attracted to her. The truth is I found her even more beautiful and in fact when I looked at ******* I tried to look at women I found less attractive than her so that I feel good about what I have. I mostly fantasized about how these women were more submissive and loving than her. That is the part I needed to feel good about and feel better about myself with because I felt very dominated and controlled. She has never forgiven me for this and I will never stop feeling sorry to her for my brokenness. During one particular argument that year she was getting close to being violent towards me again and I pushed her away on the chest with my fingertips. She got very mad and said I hurt her. I immediately felt terrible and apologized. I never let something like that happen again. I have always avoided violence towards others especially women and of course her. I was defenseless against physical and emotional abuse.

2008

Our eldest son was born at the beginning of the year, it was a traumatic birth for everyone. We wanted a natural birth with a midwife but we were transferred to a hospital and she ended up having an emergency C-section, nothing went as planned. We had a really hard time coping with the emotions of this experience. A lot of buried feelings and trauma from both of us started coming out. We moved a month later into our new home outside of town. No more walking or biking to places, we had to drive everywhere. This house was next to our friends from church. We thought this would make us feel less isolated but we didn’t really have the community with them that we had hoped for. They were upset that they didn't have a child of their own yet and being around us might have been hard for them. My wife stopped working and stayed home with our son. All these changes made for a very difficult time. I did my best to support them but this was the first time we shared a bank account and needed to follow a budget more than ever before. We had no debt at the beginning of the year with money in savings but then the hospital bills put us down about $7,000 and rising with new home and moving expenses and baby needs. My job could barely keep up. She and I had a hard time adjusting. We could not afford to travel home to Oregon and visit family as much and we felt more and more isolated. She started showing me more signs of instability, locking herself in the bathroom with kitchen knives and scraping her legs which continued off and on for years to come. Talks of divorce and suicide threats seemed to happen more than before. I felt responsible and tried to fix her ever changing issues with me.

I remember when herr ******* were full and swollen with milk. It is so beautiful the way she could feed our babies. I wanted her in every way, our bodies belonged to each other. I was there for her and our shared pleasure. I loved it when she told me that she was mine in the heat of passion. This spark could only be a bandage for so long but I didn't know that yet.

2009

I tried to promote within my company but was not selected, they were cutting budgets and employment all around me. I felt worried about our future. I had always thought the military might be a good opportunity and could move us closer to family back home. My father-in-law encouraged me to look into the Coast Guard. I felt this would be a good way to get moved closer to Oregon.  I ended up joining the Navy because we found out we were pregnant again with our second son and that was the only way I could join a military branch. She worked off and on as a nanny and later in the year at a coffee house working nights. We barely spent time together and when we did it was a lot of hard conversations or arguments about finances with making up intimately in the middle of the night between times of caring for the baby. She once scratched my neck with her fingernails during an argument. People I worked with noticed. It was a hard time and we knew change was on the horizon with jobs and moving. We did visit Oregon that summer though and had a great vacation at the beach with a borrowed 4x4 and staying at a hotel and picnicking out of a cooler as well as going to her brothers wedding. I was 26 and about to join the Navy to provide better for my family at all costs sacrificing myself for their benefit because I would have rather died than look like I didn't try my best for them.

I remember when our babies would kick and move around inside her belly. I loved laying by her and feeling her tummy. I would hum to the baby and hear them move and squirm. I loved giving our boys baths when they were babies too. We had our little bundles of our love, wrapped in a towel in our hands, so tiny and vulnerable. I miss those days and want to remember them with her, aside from this state of melancholy.

2010

The Navy recruiters would only take me if we rented out our home and had her stay with family during boot camp and training. We moved to a furnished apartment in Denver and put our things in storage. She was 5 months pregnant and our eldest was two. I shortly after was let go from my job. Our second son was born in April. I got a contract with the Navy at the last minute but didn't leave until August. We sold our beloved vehicles and lived off retirement funds for six months and moved down to Florida where her parents had just moved out of the blue for work, to stay with them until I left for boot camp. I applied for temporary work in Florida at a dozen places but had no luck in my three months there. I took care of our eldest a lot while she took care of the new baby. Being in Florida was a culture shock for us but we had our moments of romance and made the best of it. Eventually I left for boot camp in August. It was really hard and sad to be gone. She stayed in Florida and came to visit me with the baby at boot camp graduation in October. I then went to Connecticut for five months of training. It was also hard but at least I could call home every day and be in the same time zone. I visited Florida during the winter break and saw my boys and her. We went to Disney world and had a great time on her parents. We also made a romantic home movie I could enjoy while away from her. I flew back to Connecticut and tried to make the best of things. My roommate was very abusive of substances and I resisted the temptation for a long time but the threat of being submarine service bound and missing my family pushed me to drinking every weekend and getting messed up to escape before I left.

I remember when we drove to Key Largo, Florida and stopped at a crazy bird wildlife center. I remember our oldest was so amazed hearing a bird say hello back to us. It was so foreign and fun there. I am glad we all shared that experience together.

I remember our trip to the citrus grove in Florida. That was such a great day for our family. I always look back on that with really fond sentiment. I felt like I was in a beautiful family music video with them.

2011

I finished Submarine Training and got orders back to the Northwest. The plan was all coming together. I arrived first and bought a car and got our items moved from storage in Denver to our townhouse rental in Washington. She and the boys joined me a month later. I didn't report to my Sub for another month as they were at sea. She became pregnant again with our third son right after arriving. We had just bought a small car and were not planning on another child. Towards the end of the year I was working a lot and having a really hard time, being bullied and treated poorly at work plus our financial situation was still very difficult. Adjusting to the military was hard among younger men being 28. I dreaded each day in that environment but I tried to endure it for my family. I went to sea for a couple months at the end of the year stopping in Hawaii and California. During this time She reached out to her ex married affair partner after six years of no contact. She didn't tell me until later. She said she needed closure with him, we were not in counseling yet but she decided this was appropriate. I flew home early from sea and wanted to surprise her. The stress and trauma of this quick transition home after being to sea for the first time (which was also traumatic) made me want to drink and get messed up before flying. I arrived home and surprised her but I seemed off to her which I was but didn’t explain why, I have never done that since. I got to be home for two months almost work free while we celebrated the holidays and prepared for the new baby to be born. She started getting more involved with a church and building a community for us which was great. Our financial struggles almost led us to foreclosure of our home back in Colorado but by the grace of God we got it sold with a short sale just in time.

I remember when I came back from Hawaii and brought her a beaded necklace and she wore it naked with her big beautiful pregnant goddess belly and we made passionate hippy love together. I want to grow out my beard again and spend my life making hippy love and feeling free again.

2012

Our third son was born in January. It was a very positive birth experience and much less stressful than the other two. Shortly after I flew out to finish the other half of the deployment I had missed. I really focused on being positive and spiritually connected by reading my Bible at sea which was helpful. I called her when I arrived in Japan halfway through being gone. She was upset because she tested positive for an STD while trying to get on birth control. I became suspicious of her yet she was suspicious of me. We both got tested again and I was clean, she told me she had a false positive after all. This put a big strain on our trust, especially being so far away. This forced us to be honest with each other about some things such as her contact with her ex lover and my drinking to cope. We were both very upset until I returned home and we could start some counseling to work through things. Forgiveness seemed to be difficult for us. It brought up hurts of the past when we were 19. She also had severe postpartum depression that became worse after each birth. I was still having a hard time with work and the submarine environment. Our church friends tried to counsel us but it was not the most helpful. My submarine was scheduled for extended repairs and not going to sea for three years, I would be transferred before the end of that period. I used this time to bond with her and my boys. I wanted to get better involved in our community and do volunteer work and side jobs to earn extra money. Our boys were all given diagnosis's for autism which begun to fill our lives with appointments and challenges for years to come but we were a good team in dealing with all of it. It gave us something to work together on but took our focus away from working on our own personal issues and relationship with each other as much as we should have.

2013

We had new years with both sides of our family in a snowy mountain setting in Oregon. It looked like it was going to be a great year until her Grandpa passed away suddenly. It ripped our entire family apart but especially her. He kept the family grounded and she was very close to him, he really loved all of us. She and I started going on dates again because we had Navy sponsored child care. It was the beginning of a really good thing for us. Tragically one night after a date we were dancing with the boys on the patio and I tried to pick her up and I lost my balance and fell on her, breaking her collar bone severely. She needed surgery and was very mad at me for years to come. She has a scar, a metal plate and numbness in her chest. We worked through it with our community from church but she still is very mad at me. I feel more terrible about this incident than she could ever know. I would lose a finger in place of that incident if I could. I continued having a really hard time in the Navy and I didn't want to stay in but She insisted our boys needed care only the Navy could offer. She also said she would divorce me if I ever left the Navy. I took this threat seriously even though she assured me later that she would never actually do that. Against my own convictions I reenlisted because I wanted to do the best thing for my family. We moved into base housing at the end of summer and didn’t go out to do things as much anymore. The house was nice but it ****** us in, we also had less community with people around our home. I started volunteering at church more and doing work with special needs people. I felt like I was doing good things and that I had purpose all around. I think she appreciated this about me.

2014

We started seeing a professional counselor together and individually. It became a regular event. I worked on myself and she worked on herself. I had a lot of issues with my Mom and eventually broke off communication with her for my own well-being and the betterment of my family. I got past a lot of the bad feelings I had. She worked on her traumatic experiences and our relationship dynamics. Just when things were going well I got a new boss who made things hard for me and others at work and I started messing up more. I got in trouble for messing up a job at work and was given strike one on my record. She lost respect for me as a provider but I tried to stay strong showing her that I would continue to do my best.

I remember when we had an appointment in Tacoma and we had a brunch date together afterwards. She looked so beautiful that day, I took her picture and was so proud to enjoy  huevos rancheros and momosas with her. I remember going to the Tacoma Art Museum seeing the Georgia O’Keefe exhibit, we have a great time together doing new things and feeding each other's interests. I loved laughing with her too, sometimes we just bust up like nobody's around. I loved the sound of her laughter. I loved watching Portlandia with her, it is so funny to remember the funny place where we became close and be able to relate together.

2015

I kept working hard and being involved with family and appointments for my boys and her. I still maintained my volunteer work and part time side jobs. I got strike two with the Navy for messing up again... I had just gained orders to leave the sub for local shore duty. I could not get out of the extended repair situation soon enough. She was very disappointed in me and not so understanding. I worked through this situation with our counselor as did she. He always told her I am a good man and that I do a lot for her and the boys. It's true, I care more than anything about them, I made mistakes and I feel bad especially when I cause my family stress. I left for shore duty in April. It was a hard time adjusting to the new routine but eventually we seemed to make it work. That summer we took a trip to visit Texas where her parents had just moved from Florida. We spent a great night together for our 10th anniversary in a hotel in Texas and went dancing. We had a lot more time together as my work schedule was less. The more people we had in our home working with our kids on issues the less useful my input seemed. I was not included as much in making family decisions because they all seemed to happen while I was at work, despite my objections. We tried to get our budget under control but she still had anxiety discussing spending. She continued to struggle with depression and was put on medication because she had still been harming herself. She was put on Prozac daily and anti anxiety medication as needed. He family members were not very supportive of medication which upset her but I always tried to be supportive in seeking help and continued care for both of us.

2016

We had a busy routine of kids in school now and home school and preschool and appointments for all of us. She wanted to go to church less and less. I started drinking a couple beers at night almost every day. I tried to mask my stress from her mood swings. She decided not to go to church at all anymore and focused teaching the boys about Jewish traditions exclusively which was hard for me to adjust to and confusing for the boys. I loved her and wanted to be supportive. As usual I was submissive and removed myself from the Christian church and some friendships. I feel like we lost our community at that point. We searched for a good place to have a new community with Jewish people but it was like starting over. I felt like I converted to Christianity for her when we got together and now I had to convert again, either way I would have done it for her because I loved her that much. The kids were confused by this change. After trying and failing at many synagogues we finally found one that seemed right for us.

2017

We finally had some money in savings because I kept it a secret and ended up planning a trip to visit her parents in Texas but it fell through due to lack of military flights. Instead we spent three nights away in a nice hotel resort as a family in February. We had three days of pure family time. Playing Battleship and other games in our room as a family, watching movies and eating at all the different restaurants and getting room service. Going swimming everyday in the foggy pool. I love our family and how we can have a great time together doing nothing but at the same time so much. That was so peaceful and relaxing. I wanted to keep doing things like that together as a family before our boys got too old. Shortly after this vacation she wanted to go back to school, then we bought a third vehicle so she could. Shortly after this she changed her mind about school and wanted to buy another house instead. I went along with it to please her and we practically killed ourselves trying to get the move accomplished with not much help or money. We had a good year over all. We got away for a romantic anniversary together in the summer. Just before the boys were going to start public school in the fall, her parents moved back to the area. She had anxiety with this and cut off contact with her parents and brothers for a while. Her Dad called me very upset and I tried to keep the peace until they reconciled. I was doing better with work and made up for lost progress as well as making arrangements to change jobs in the Navy to something more fitting. Since the boys started public school, I planned on leaving for Navy training in my new position after the beginning of the new year when they would be at a more settled place in their routine.

I remember when we went to the Olympic Club for our anniversary and we stayed there for a night away. We drove the long way through the countryside talking about new music that she wanted to share with me and she made notes of it on my phone notepad. We brought our own cooler and picnic that included Session Lagers and chocolate. We checked in to our room and made noisy bohemian love on the edge of the creaky bed in our small European room inches from the door. Then we went to the theater downstairs and watched the late showing of a really interesting Sci-fi movie "Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets". We took showers and slept sweetly together. We made love again in the morning before we had a delicious brunch outside on the patio. We took the long way home and drove around on new roads and found our way out of cell phone reception. We figured out the road less traveled to get back to our home. We loved being alone and away together, just one night can make such a difference and mean so much.

I remember going to the Forest Theater to see Tarzan with our boys. That was such a great time. I would love to get our boys into theater and go see them someday. I wanted to keep our dreams and goals together alive and not lose opportunity and fall short by losing our partnership.

I loved going camping in Seabeck. Loading the truck with all our gear and getting away. Archer got sick from the cowboy caviar and I had to clean him and the tent up in the night. I was glad we had each other to be a team in our marriage in that situation as with all the other times. These sorts of things are what escape a person's mind when they are determined to get a divorce.

2018

We had a lot less money than the year before, again buying a house took its toll on finances as did the boys school and after school activities. I stayed very involved taking the boys to appointments and sporting practices. We stopped going to synagogue but tried to practice Judaism at home as much as possible, which I was very supportive of and involved with. She was still depressed and talking about suicide at times. I encouraged her to get help as I always had. Eventually she was diagnosed as Bipolar 2 and manic depressive by a new provider. She started taking new medicine for this and was worried I would want to leave her. I assured her I would never leave her and that I always wanted to work on things with her and help her. I left for training in Mississippi February 8th. It was going to be hard but I thought it might be good to have some time apart from each other to miss one another and reflect on things as well as prepare for times when I would be away at sea. I got in trouble in Mississippi for giving junior personnel a ride and being negligent of people who might be underage and possibly drinking, this became strike three. I never thought this could happen. I became recommend for separation from the Navy shortly after and was stuck in Mississippi for six months instead of six weeks. She was supportive through most of it but seemed to fall into hopelessness. Money was spent by her that we didn't have without discussion. She quietly leased appliances and tires and purchased a vehicle as well as having a secret bank account and email address. I discovered through our insurance company that she wanted to leave our policy for divorce. I didn't know this and she had even told the boys she wanted a divorce before I even knew. I was caught off guard and confused. I kept trying to communicate and reason with her but she didn't want to talk. I refused to give up and wrote emails and a letter but it only seemed to push her away further. By the time I left Mississippi she had filed for divorce and a restraining order against me saying I was unstable and a threat. I couldn't return to my home. My whole life fell apart in just a couple months. I found out she had been talking to other men in the Navy and keeping more secrets. I assumed this was her way of taking control during a difficult situation. I really needed her support during this hard time of transition out of the military. I became homeless, jobless and without my family in a month. I prayed to God that given time things might change between us but it was of no use. Bipolar had consumed whatever was left of my bride and there was no turning back.

I felt that our love was not one to be cast away. Other people might not understand or agree but what we had was truly special. We may have surely needed some time and space to get counseling as well as reconfigure and repair our marriage but I didn't feel like our relationship was irretrievably broken. She was so important to me and I thought she was the love of my life and would always have my heart. I wanted to be her partner in love and life, watching our boys grow up and being there to support each other. Being that she is Bipolar I knew she will need a lot of help and I was more than willing to assist her in making sure she was taking care of herself and not throwing herself into harm's way, ensuring she sticks with a plan we agree to for consistency. I cared about her deeply and had much compassion for her. I didn't believe she was thinking this through or thinking about the future. I really wanted to look at the long and short game with her, neither seemed appealing to me if we progressed but here we are. Things are not going to be easier. She will still have to face her problems and deal with me on a regular basis for the rest of our lives no matter what happens. She can believe her lawyer when they promise she'll get the moon and stars out of this in the end but they only see half of the story. Above all they want our money. It would have been good for her to face me in person and tell me she wanted to divorce and we could have started talking about it with a counselor to figure out how that could even work. Instead she chose to avoid as much responsibility for her actions as possible by doing everything in my absence as if I am not a real person. I had to find out about it from our insurance company and was last to know.

Immediately after I hear the word divorce I looked into her cell usage history and find she has a new military boyfriend that she talks to 20-30 times a day. She felt she owed me no explanation for this and it was none of my business. A mature person would have let me know about this months before and I would have seen it coming but there was no sign until it was seemingly too late. She strayed down a dark path and never turned back.

Her proposed parenting plan was cruel and had no thought put into it. Two hours a week with supervision, no holidays but father's day? She said she’s not trying to keep me from the kids but this is the exact opposite of what she’s saying with the paperwork she filed. She seems very mixed up and still you continues to make rash and sudden choices. Like a completely bogus restraining order against me that contradicts so many facts she has stated herself on record during my Navy retention process. She was so bold as to want to change her identity and even put it in ink on the divorce paperwork as well to a whole new name. That is not the actions of a stable person. She has since changed her mind again on that just as quickly as everything else in her recent life choices. I can't trust that any decisions she is making right now are for the right reasons or that she is of sound mind. I have never seen her so conflicted and confused, grasping at straws and running scared from herself.

Using the legal system so carelessly and going back and forth makes me feel like she is not ready to be making big choices and changes for her and our family. It is very unfair that she can’t consider my feelings on things and what I wish for the boys as well. Very reckless behavior. She can’t anticipate that the day would come where she has to face me and talk to me like an adult. She wants to hide behind the legal system which only leaves much to be unresolved. Ghosting me is not really an option in a marriage of 13 years with children.

Having relationship conversations is too difficult for her at this time and she would rather avoid it and skip to divorce because she thinks that will somehow be easier. I suspect she knows she is making poor choices, possibly out of fear and lust for something new and less painful than the reality of things right now. Our marriage was nowhere close to divorce when I left. She was sad to see me leave and woke with me at 3:30 am to say goodbye, making me coffee and cookies for me to take with.

Our community and accountability seems to be gone due to the continued trend of isolation that she is drawn to. The God fearing loving committed wife I thought I had is gone or trapped inside a terrified shell of herself. She cut me off from her family members and I can't discuss my concerns about her with them either. She only seems to have community with those who are not going to discourage her from these destructive choices.

I understand we have had issues and struggles but we are no worse off than other couples during challenging times. I think that because we loved each other so much it just hurt more when things got hard. I can't accept or believe this is justified or the right choice based on the positive trend we were on before I left. This was the longest break we have ever had from each other and I think she just needed someone to be there more for her, no matter who it was. Time can heal all wounds and I hope that is true for our relationship as co-parents.

She still refuses to tell me about why she wanted a divorce or talk about anything beyond caring for the kids. I have fought the restraining and I can see my boys again but I am still not allowed to my home without her permission.

I have risen from the ashes in just a couple months. I rent a room from a nice couple from our old church and obtained a good paying job while I continue paying the household bills.

This is a really hard time, this difficult spell could have been a tool to better our relationship. I wanted to experience more beautiful memories with her. We had so many more beautiful memories and dreams left to create. This is what marriage looks like to me now as I lower the casket.
This is a timeline of the major events during my 13 year marriage. Amidst the reality, I injected all the lovely memories that refuse to leave my mind.
Terry Collett Jan 2014
Alice sits
in the room
with blackboard

and easel
and small desk
and small chair

with Nanny
stern and strict
pointing at

the blackboard
with her stick
teaching her

her letters
the grammar
paragraphs

sentences
by long rote
and command

and Alice
knows now that
any cause

of Nanny's
discontent
will bring her

punishment
her father's
hard hand smacks

whack and whack
she sits still
taking note

but bored she
stares out high
windows at

tall tree tops
and blue skies
thinking of

her mother
locked away
(ill in her

head Nanny
coldly said)
then she thinks

of her new
adoptive
mother who

works below
stairs(low stairs
her father

often says)
the one with
the red raw

fingers thin
and young who
secretly

said she would
be her new
adopted

mother but
to strive to
learn to do

her best and
so she does
but thinks of

the time when
lessons are
over she

can sneak down
below stairs
and along

passageways
to where her
adoptive new

mother works
and feel her
embrace her

earthy smell
her soft cheek
against that

rough cloth of
apron the
red fingers

caressing  
her long hair
whispering

words but still
the nanny
drones on the

lesson now
taking its
toll boredom

sinking in
wishing her
adoptive

mother would
come and take
her away

for a walk
to the horse
stables or

into town
holding her
hand the red

hand holding
her pink one
or dreams of

snuggling
up to her
in her bed

feeling her
motherly
tender warmth

but Nanny
still drones on
the long lesson

word on word
keeping her
from the arms

and caress
and earthy
smell of cloth

of her new
adoptive
young mother

below stairs
Alice yawns
secretly

her small hand
over mouth
knowing this

blowing soft
from her palm
to her young

adoptive
mother a
secret kiss.
A YOUNG GIRL IN 1890 AND HER NEWLY ADOPTIVE MOTHER BELOW STAIRS.
Debby Pierre Jan 2019
my wonderful nanny
is not actually a nanny.
she likes to be called Annie
and doesn't carry a *****.

she writes poems about us and day drinks.
she likes to cuss and never makes a fuss.
she even gets her hair done regularly, unlike other grannies.

her makeup is always perfect, her red lipstick signature.
her sunglasses are just divine and delicious.

she is a glam-ma
Nanny Annie is the best.
jake aller Aug 2019
I don't get it
I don’t Get It 
Mr. Speaker
I admit I don’t get it

How does prayer
Stop gun violence?
Prayer did not work in Texas.

26 people were murdered
 while praying.

God if he exists
Obviously does not care
About the poor people
Who died in his church
Because a mad man

Got a gun
And no they were not praying
To be delivered from death
No one deserves to die like this

So my prayer to you
Is simply this

Get off your rear end
Rally the country
And do something

About gun violence

That’s a prayer
I hope works

Dear Speaker Ryan
I want to tell you something

The dead don’t want your prayers
The dead don’t care that you pray for them
They are dead after all

And you and your so-called Christians
Are to blame
You refuse to do anything
Anything at all

to stop the carnage
In our streets

The U.S. is flooded with guns
And more are sold every day
Millions of people don’t have health coverage
Millions are barely surviving

And your answer
Our dear great compassionate Speaker
Your answer 
Is Prayer works
Government action does not
You act as if the gun violence
Plaguing our country

Was like the weather
Beyond our control
So here’s my prayer for you

And your colleagues
When you die
I pray that God
Will send you

And your friends
Straight to hell
Where Satan and his demons
Will use you for target practice

That’s my prayer to you
And as you know
Prayer works
 
Mr. President
You are wrong once again

You said that the tragic events 
in Texas
And Las Vegas were not “gun situations”

But rather were mental health problems
And that in Texas
if there had been no gun controls
Perhaps fewer people would have died

Mr. President

I know you a smart man

The smartest man in the world


According to you
So please contemplate this fact

According to the latest findings

It is a gun situation

In fact, the reason the U.S.

Has so many gun deaths 

Is because we have so many guns

45% of the worlds guns in fact
And 33 percent of the world’s shooters

Are Americans killing other Americans
And most of them 

the majority of them

Are White men killing other people
Not Islamic terrorists


Most are in fact

Self-proclaimed Christians
So Mr. President

When will you come to your senses
And do what 90 percent of the public wants


Enact nation wide effective gun controls?
And tell the NRA
 
they can take their blood money elsewhere

When Mr. President

When will you act

When will you take charge
And become a President of the people
Instead of the President of the NRA?
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Virginia Beach Massacre Never Again
Virgina Beach 

In a night of horrific scumbagery violence

Rarely seen in this jaded age of ours

Gone in one hour
In a spasm of horrific scumbagery violence
I
In just a few short minutes


Nothing more than that
 
In just a few moments

All 12 victims were murdered
By a disgruntled employee


Every one he knew was shot

And killed for no reason
Caused by the demons

His soul was so infected

Murderous demonic voices

All in his head

Screaming **** them all 
**** them all


Screaming none stop violence in his head

All the time
Causing him to start shooting 
everyone he saw


Regardless of who they were 
or where they were

Everyone must die 
screamed the demonic voices in his head
No one can be left alive


Everyone must die

Virtually all must die 
in his internal video game

Everyone must die


Regardless of who they were 
or where they were
Again just another day

Gone horribly wrong


All across America
In
every town

No where is safe anymore
Virgina Beach massacre

Virgina Beach massacre

Just another
Average night in America

An Active Shooter
scumbagery violence

Rarely seen

in this jaded wild world
Gone in one hour
In a spasm of horrific
scumbagery
In just a less than 30 short minutes

Nothing more than
In just a few short 30 moments

All the victims
were murdered while at their daily 
work
wrong place wrong time

act of a demotic deranged madman
voices screaming ****
The voices scream
death to all humans


All must be killed
The voices scream over and over
All must die now

Just another night in America
Land of the Brave
Home of the free
More Guns for Everyone in the World

The NRA has decided

That the best solution to global problem

Of rampant violence and crime everywhere
Is for the rest of the world


To become like the U.S.

Where anyone can buy a gun

As an armed society is a polite society’

And so the President i
s about to announce

A global campaign against gun control restrictions


As these restrictions
are an undue burden

On the rights of the US arms manufactures
To sell their guns 
everywhere in the world


As everyone wants what we have to sell

The best weapons in the world
Instead of trying to limit the damage


That unrestricted gun sales

Have done to the U.S.
Our President, our great leader

Wants to sell more guns

Everywhere in the world

And there are eager buyers

Lining up around the world

Eager to buy the best guns

The world has ever seen

We want to export

The gun madness

That has infected our society


Leaving behind so many dead bodies
The dead were not consulted

For they remain dead


They do not vote
They have no voice
For the guns silenced them

For good
 just as the guns intended

Just doing their gun thing after all

Humanity has evolved
From stones to arrows
To guns
T o nuclear, biological weapons

And the U.S.
 While proclaiming itself
A champion of Human Rights

Remains nothing 
but a country 
Of gun runners
 Merchants of death
And destruction
NRA Please Stop Talking

Another day
Another mass shooting

Another incident
of domestic terrorism


another gun man
killing people
because just because
 he can
and he wants to **** people

The NRA 
And their stooges

Come out

Flood the airways
With their noxious
Poisonous weasel words


The NRA says
Mass shootings

Are like the weather

You can’t control them
You can’t predict them

And you can’t prevent them

Just have to accept

It is all god’s will

Guns don’t **** people
IF guns were outlawed

Only outlaws
 would have guns

Only solution 
Is more guns

For everyone

An armed society
they say 
Is a polite society


Support for gun control
I is
socialist/communist/fascist/anti-Am  erican/anti-Christian nonsense
The beginning of tyranny


If only the Jews had guns

The holocaust would not have happened

Jesus would want us all
 
to be armed 
with machine guns
To protect us against the evil doers

It is the Christian thing to do


To blow away evil doers
With heavy arms


In America
Land of the free

Home of the brave
We can’t do anything


At all
About the mass carnage

Unleashed by madmen with guns

Who walk among us

Searching for their next victims
Any restriction of the right


To bear arms

Is tyranny at its worst
The nanny state run amuck

Talking about gun control

After a tragic event
Is

just not the appropriate time

We only need prayers

and meaningless thoughts

Universal background checks

Too onerous
Registering guns

Too burdensome

Researching gun violence

waste of tax payer money
banning military style assault weapons
r

Restricts my right 
to blow 
away

Bambi the deer
with a M16

the NRA will keep talking

talking and talking

preventing anything

from being done

and we will have another

Mass shooting event

Before the day is out

So my plead

This day
To the NRA
A
and their stoogies

Talk is cheap

Your comments
Are not helping

If you can’t

Be a part of the solution
Just stop talking

Please stop talking


And let the rest
Of us  figure out

How to stop

The madness in the streets
And stop the carnage


So NRA

Please
 just
 stop
 talking
 Now

military assault weapons 
are locked up

yet in America

the land of the free

home of the brave
 
everyone and his cousin

must have their gun

guns for everyone

cries the NRA

that’s the solution

The president
a 
and his supporters

deny the obvious
guns **** people
That’s all they do


it is a gun thing

you would not understand
Guns just do
what guns gonna do
**** people

Mr. President

You can take your words

your empty platitudes
Your empty promises
Your prayers 

straight to hell

and back

where with any luck

Satan will use you

as target practice
Chief of Staff You are Absurd

the President’s chief of staff
said the other day

it was absurd

to suggest that the president’s words

had anything to do

with recent mass shootings

yet is it absurd

to see the lengths

to which the President’s supporters
will twist and turn

spinning awa
y
the inconvenient truth
President Trump 
is a racist bigot con man

who some how
 conned his way

to become President
he call immigrants criminals, vermin, animals

invaders infesting the country
the El Paseo shooter 

said that he went to the border

to shoot the invaders

and said
 that he was a big Trump fan
it is not absurd
 to connect these two huge dots
The President’s words
 
have real world consequences

Yes Mr. Trump is a racist pig
a
and his supporters
 are being absurd

to suggest otherwise

 
36
 Jake Aller


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Jake Aller
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https://theworldaccordingtocosmos.com

John (Jake) Cosmos Aller

Novelist, Poet, Foreign Service Officer 

Tel: 703-436-1402
Email: authorjakecosmosaller@gmail.com

John (“Jake” ) Cosmos Aller is a novelist, poet and former Foreign Service officer having served 27 years with the U.S. State Department in ten countries - Antigua, Barbados, Dominica, Grenada,  Korea, India, St Kitts, St Lucia,  St Vincent, Spain and Thailand. and traveled to 45 countries during his career.  Jake has been an aspiring novelist for several years and has completed two novels, (Giant **** Spiders, and the Great Divorce) and is pursuing publication.  He has been writing poetry all his life and has published his poetry in electronic poetry forums, including All Poetry, Moon Café and Duane’s Poetree. (under the name Jake Lee).  He is looking forward to transitioning to his third career – full-time novelist and poet after completing his second career as a Foreign Service officer, and his first career as an educator overseas for six years upon completion of his Peace Corps service in South Korea. 



He served in a wide variety of positions running from Consular management, Fraud investigation and managing the consular overseas computer support desk, to economic and political reporting positions, international labor diplomacy, commercial diplomacy - promoting American business overseas- international organization diplomacy serving as the deputy permanent representative to the Economic and Social Commission for Asia and the Pacific, to management positions including program management, evaluation and contracting management, and environmental and science diplomacy including promoting renewable energy solutions.  He taught courses at the Foreign Service Institute and overseas in Bangladesh, India, Nepal and Kathmandu on consular fraud and consular Systems issues.

Senior program evaluator overseeing the implementation of the Department's evaluation program enabling the Department to develop a robust program evaluation system.
Coordinated training program training over 200 people in three years
Launched community of practice (CoP) web page (word press) with over 300 participants, greatly expanding the ability of State program evaluators to conduct program evaluations.  
Conducted meta-evaluation of completed foreign assistance evaluations insuring that the Department’s evaluations provided critical program improvement data.

Deputy Political Economic chief, - Bridgetown, Barbados 

Served as the deputy political economic chief covering political, economic, labor , environment and science and commercial diplomacy efforts in the Eastern Caribbean. 
Received labor officer of the year award for work in setting up regional training programs in occupational safety issues, and meeting with labor leaders in all seven countries greatly expanding our labor diplomacy outreach; 
Initiated two American Chambers of Commerce organizations, 
Conducted fund raising in support of  Embassy’s July fourth celebrations, the first time held in multiple countries, raising $100,000 over a three year period; 
Conducted training programs in all seven countries demonstrating to hundreds of locals on how to access U.S. Government  export financing programs . 

CA/FPP Deputy Training Team Coordinator – Washington, DC,
Taught consular fraud prevention courses at the Foreign Service Institute, and in Bangladesh, India, Nepal, Pakistan, greatly increasing knowledge and skills in fraud detection. 
Launched Lexus Nexus public record database access for consular officers worldwide, therefore dramatically improving consular fraud prevention efforts, 
Initiated first interagency Fraud Working Group coordinating fraud efforts among Departments of Homeland Security, State, and Labor.  
Received Cash Award.
Deputy Consular Chief, - Mumbai, India
Oversaw American citizen services, immigration visas in fifth largest operation in the world and fraud prevention programs greatly improving management of each.  
Supervised and mentored 15 junior officers and 50 local staff resulting in each unit receiving group cash awards. 
Received two cash Meritorious Honor awards for my work helping American citizens facing crises including helping American citizens whose family members died in India, or were arrested. 
Organized task force that dealt with aftermath of worst earthquake in 50 years.  

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My Poems (224)AutorankLinks
I don't get it
I don’t Get It
 

Mr. Speaker

I admit I don’t get it

How does praye

Stop gun violence?

Prayer did not work in Texas.

26 people were murdered
 while praying.
God if he exists

Obviously does not care

About the poor people

Who died in his church

Because a mad man

Got a gun
And no they were not praying

To be delivered from death

No one deserves to die like this

So my prayer to you

Is simply this
Get off your rear end

Rally the country
And do something


About gun violence
That’s a prayer
I hope works
© 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller      
Read more →
 Like (0)  0   

Dear Speaker Ryan

Dear Speaker Ryan
I want to tell you something

The dead don’t want your prayers

The dead don’t care that you pray for them

They are dead after all


And you and your so-called Christians

Are to blame

You refuse to do anything

Anything at all
to stop the carnage
In our streets

The U.S. is flooded with guns

And more are sold every day
Millions of people don’t have health coverage

Millions are barely surviving
And your answer


Our dear great compassionate Speaker
Your answer
 
Is Prayer works

Government action does not

You act as if the gun violence

Plaguing our country

Was like the weather

Beyond our control

So here’s my prayer for you

And your colleagues
When you die

I pray that God

Will send you
And your friends

Straight to hell
Where Satan and his demons

Will use you for target practice

That’s my prayer to you

And as you know
Prayer works
 
another gun poem © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller      
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It’s a Gun Situation, Mr. President

Mr. President
You are wrong once again

You said that the tragic events 
in Texas
And Las Vegas were not “gun situations”

But rather were mental health problems
And that in Texas
if there had been no gun controls
Perhaps fewer people would have died

Mr. President

I know you a smart man

The smartest man in the world


According to you
So please contemplate this fact

According to the latest findings

It is a gun situation

In fact, the reason the U.S.

Has so many gun deaths 

Is because we have so many guns

45% of the worlds guns in fact
And 33 percent of the world’s shooters

Are Americans killing other Americans
And most of them 

the majority of them

Are White men killing other people
Not Islamic terrorists


Most are in fact

Self-proclaimed Christians
So Mr. President

When will you come to your senses
And do what 90 percent of the public wants


Enact nation wide effective gun controls?
And tell the NRA
 
they can take their blood money elsewhere

When Mr. President

When will you act

When will you take charge
And become a President of the people
Instead of the President of the NRA?
another gun poem © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller      
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Virginia Beach Massacre Never Again
Virgina Beach 

In a night of horrific scumbagery violence

Rarely seen in this jaded age of ours

Gone in one hour
In a spasm of horrific scumbagery violence
I
In just a few short minutes


Nothing more than that
 
In just a few moments

All 12 victims were murdered
By a disgruntled employee


Every one he knew was shot

And killed for no reason
Caused by the demons

His soul was so infected

Murderous demonic voices

All in his head

Screaming **** them all 
**** them all


Screaming none stop violence in his head

All the time
Causing him to start shooting 
everyone he saw


Regardless of who they were 
or where they were

Everyone must die 
screamed the demonic voices in his head
No one can be left alive


Everyone must die

Virtually all must die 
in his internal video game

Everyone must die


Regardless of who they were 
or where they were
Again just another day

Gone horribly wrong


All across America
In
every town

No where is safe anymore
Virgina Beach massacre

Virgina Beach massacre

Just another
Average night in America

An Active Shooter
scumbagery violence

Rarely seen

in this jaded wild world
Gone in one hour
In a spasm of horrific
scumbagery
In just a less than 30 short minutes

Nothing more than
In just a few short 30 moments

All the victims

were murdered while at their daily 
work
wrong place wrong time
act of a demotic deranged madman

voices screaming ****
The voices scream
death to all humans


All must be killed
The voices scream over and over

All must die now

Just another night in America
Land of the Free

Home of the free
another gun poem © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller      
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More Guns for Everyone

More Guns for Everyone in the World

The NRA has decided

That the best solution to global problem

Of rampant violence and crime everywhere
Is for the rest of the world


To become like the U.S.

Where anyone can buy a gun

As an armed society is a polite society’

And so the President i
s about to announce

A global campaign against gun control restrictions


As these restrictions
are an undue burden

On the rights of the US arms manufactures
To sell their guns 
everywhere in the world


As everyone wants what we have to sell

The best weapons in the world
Instead of trying to limit the damage


That unrestricted gun sales

Have done to the U.S.
Our President, our great leader

Wants to sell more guns

Everywhere in the world

And there are eager buyers

Lining up around the world

Eager to buy the best guns

The world has ever seen

We want to export

The gun madness

That has infected our society


Leaving behind so many dead bodies
The dead were not consulted

For they remain dead


They do not vote
T
hey have no voice
For the guns silenced 
them
For good
 just as the guns intended


Just doing their gun thing after all
Humanity has evolved

From stones to arrows

To guns
T o nuclear, biological weapons

And the U.S.
 While proclaiming itself

A champion of Human Rights
Remains nothing 

but a country
 
Of gun runners
 Merchants of death

And destruction
another gun poem © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller      
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NRA Quit Talking

NRA Please Stop Talking

Another day
Another mass shooting

Another incident
of domestic terrorism


another gun man
killing people
because just because
 he can
and he wants to **** people

The NRA 
And their stooges

Come out

Flood the airways
With their noxious
Poisonous weasel words


The NRA says
Mass shootings

Are like the weather

You can’t control them
You can’t predict them

And you can’t prevent them

Just have to accept

It is all god’s will

Guns don’t **** people
IF guns were outlawed

Only outlaws
 would have guns

Only solution 
Is more guns

For everyone

An armed society
they say 
Is a polite society


Support for gun control
I is
socialist/communist/fascist/anti-Am  erican/anti-Christian nonsense
The beginning of tyranny


If only the Jews had guns

The holocaust would not have happened

Jesus would want us all
 
to be armed 
with machine guns
To protect us against the evil doers

It is the Christian thing to do


To blow away evil doers
With heavy arms


In America
Land of the free

Home of the brave
We can’t do anything


At all
About the mass carnage

Unleashed by madmen with guns

Who walk among us

Searching for their next victims
Any restriction of the right


To bear arms

Is tyranny at its worst
The nanny state run amuck

Talking about gun control

After a tragic event
Is

just not the appropriate time

We only need prayers

and meaningless thoughts

Universal background checks

Too onerous
Registering guns

Too burdensome

Researching gun violence

waste of tax payer money
banning military style assault weapons
r

Restricts my right 
to blow 
away

Bambi the deer
with a M16

the NRA will keep talking

talking and talking

preventing anything

from being done

and we will have another

Mass shooting event

Before the day is out

So my plead

This day
To the NRA
A
and their stoogies

Talk is cheap

Your comments
Are not helping

If you can’t

Be a part of the solution
Just stop talking

Please stop talking


And let the rest
Of us  figure out

How to stop

The madness in the streets
And stop the carnage


So NRA

Please
 just
 stop
 talking
 Now
another gun stop © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller      
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guns **** People
Guns **** people
g
Guns do **** people
it is not mental illness

it is not video games
it is not a million other things

it is simply this
a gun is a weapon

a weapon designed to **** people

That is what guns do
guns don’t care

they do as they are told
If you pull the trigger
t
They will **** the victim

that is what guns do

that is why 
in a civilized society

military assault weapons 
are locked up

yet in America

the land of the free

home of the brave
 
everyone and his cousin

must have their gun

guns for everyone

cries the NRA

that’s the solution

The president
a 
and his supporters

deny the obvious
guns **** people
That’s all they do


it is a gun thing

you would not understand
Guns just do
what guns gonna do
**** people

Mr. President

You can take your words

your empty platitudes
Your empty promises
Your prayers 

straight to hell

and back

where with any luck

Satan will use you

as target practice
another gun poem © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller      
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Chief of Staff You are Absurd

the President’s chief of staff
said the other day

it was absurd

to suggest that the president’s words

had anything to do

with recent mass shootings

yet is it absurd

to see the lengths

to which the President’s supporters
will twist and turn

spinning awa
y
the inconvenient truth
President Trump 
is a racist bigot con man

who some how
 conned his way

to become President
he call immigrants criminals, vermin, animals

invaders infesting the country
the El Paseo shooter 

said that he went to the border

to shoot the invaders

and said
 that he was a big Trump fan
it is not absurd
 to connect these two huge dots
The President’s words
 
have real world consequences

Yes Mr. Trump is a racist pig
a
and his supporters
 are being absurd

to suggest otherwise
another gun poem © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller      
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Mr. President Words Matter

Mr. President Words Matter

Mr President

Words matter

your words matter

your words of hate

your words of division
your words 
calling fellow human beings 
****, vermin,

invaders, animals 
matter

they matter a lot

and is it little wonder

that people listen 

to the hate you sprew forth

and some deranged people

take action 
on your call 
for action
against the invaders 

on the border


they march to the border

to **** the invaders
your words matter

Mr. President


and your false words
of regret
fool no one

the damage has been done

the hate has been spread

just as you intended

and you 
have the gall 

to call yourself
A Christian
you are the anti-Christ

you are not a Christian

so please quite pretending

to be what you are not

please man up

accept your responsibility

set things right

apologize

the dead though

don’t need your prayers

they need action

they need leadership

and you are the president

so please start acting

like you give a ****

and if you do so

perhaps 
you will find

people will follow you
but please
 quite the words 
of hate


the words that hurt
and quit calling immigrants
 invaders 
and vermin
 

they are human beings

they are deserving of respect
this I ask of you 
In Jesus’s name
even though I am not a Christian
another day, another shooting

Another Day Another Shooting
another day in paradise
just another day in Americal
Land of the free
Home of the brave

and gunshots,
lots of gunshots
more guns for all
cries the NRA

yes another day
another gun battle
another white man
who just wants to ****

the President sends his condolences
Thanks the law enforcement 
for an incredible job well done
It was horrible

Hate has no place
in our country
and we will take of it 

and do what ever we can do
condolences 
nothing but false words
empty words 

lots of things to do
it is mental illness problem

but he fails to mention
the words gun at al
not at all
and tomorrow and tomorrow

but he at least finally 
said 
hate has no role in country
nothing but prime BS
in my humble opinion

he did not mention 
white supremacy
his rhetoric had nothing
nothing to do 
about this at all

and so tomorrow
I will turn on the TV
and we see
nothing at all

and the dead
will remain dead
the guns will fire again

nothing will be done
welcome to America
land of the free
home of the brave
poems about gun violence
Terry Collett Apr 2017
Millie stands by the wall staring at the coming and going of people along the passage where the grownups are. Her older twin sisters Anna and Bella stand together by the huge vases her father had brought back with him from one of his adventures. They hold hands dressed in the black and white pinafore dresses whispering to each other as they often did with their secrets and isolationism. Millie's younger sister Lisbet sits on the huge grey patterned carpet with her doll her long golden tresses over her shoulders. She too looks down the passage at the coming and going of the grown-up people their laughter and loud guffaws from the men. Millie has her hands behind her back fiddling with her white apron straps at the back. She is wearing the scarlet pinafore as her black one has become too small for her Nanny had said. The people along the passage have disappeared into the rooms and all is quiet again. Lisbet plays with her doll talking to it in her childish tones. Millie is glad the people have gone. She hates it when visitors come friends of her father's usually come to stay and talk and dine with the family downstairs while she and her sisters eat with Nanny in the nursery out of their sight. Anna and Bella giggle and walk off along the other passage towards the empty rooms where they can explore and pretend are rooms of magic. Lisbet gets up and walks off after them leaving Millie alone by the wall. She stares along the passage fearing one of the guests will venture down towards her and talk to her bending down to her as if they were giants or witches with their large faces painted with red lips and large eyes. She listens for them. She wishes her father never invited these people. She dislikes them being around as they disquiet her. A few months ago one of the guests a man tall and with dark piercing eyes and a close friend of her father's walked down to where she was and talked with her. Her sisters were elsewhere. Nanny was off for a few hours and in the nearby town. The man had offered Millie a selection of sweets and she had taken one shyly and unwrapped it and put it in her mouth. He seemed quite friendly and asked about the house and garden. She warmed to him as he seemed friendly and not snobbish like many of her father's friends. He asked if she could show him around the house and gardens. She said she would and felt important as if it was her house she was showing him. After a little while he went off and said thank you and went to his room along the guest's passage. Millie was just about to go along to the nursery when his door opened and he called her and asked if she would like to see his book of butterflies and also his case of butterflies he had caught. She smiled and said she would and entered his room. The room was larger than hers and her sisters' and had large window looking out on the gardens below. There were paintings on the walls of landscapes of places your father had been or wished to go some day. He closed the door after she had entered and went to get the book of butterflies and opened it for her and she sat on a two seater sofa by the wall. He spoke of the various butterflies and their colours and patterns. She listened willing to learn about them. Then he put a hand around her and drew her close to him. Her left arm was held between his body and hers. She felt bewildered. No one had embraced her like this before not even Nanny. He spoke on as if he was unaware of his actions unaware of her sense of unease. She wanted to get up and leave she couldn't his arms held her close to him. She lost interest in the butterflies. She just wanted to go. He looked at her and closed the book. He placed it by the side of the sofa. He said she was very pretty like a young princess and he kissed her cheek. She felt frightened now and wanted him to stop wanted for him to let her go. She stared ahead at the window opposite. Trees were waving in the afternoon breeze and birds flew across the sky. His hand had moved down her leg and his fingers touched her knees. Someone called her name. Millie the voice called. He removed his arm and hand and stood up and he smiled at her. She did not smile at him but searched him with her frightened eyes searching for words to say something but no words would come. He opened the door and put his head out of the doorway and called the maid who had been calling for Millie. The maid came and he talked to her and she curtsied and nodded her head and he told her he was showing Millie his book of butterflies which she had enjoyed. Millie said nothing. She left the room not looking back at him feeling undone feeling as if she had stepped into a dark place. The man left a few days later and Millie said nothing to anyone about him or what he had done. She couldn't sleep that night. She dreamed afterwards that he had come into her room and had touched her and she had screamed and Nanny came running in and had asked what was the matter. Millie said she had had a nightmare. She said nothing about the man. Anna and Bella come along the passage from the rooms hand in hand whispering and giggling. Lisbet follows dragging her doll by the arm along the floor and sits once more on the carpet playing and talking with the doll. Millie stares along the passage. The rooms are closed. The guests inside. Millie likes the silence. No one talks to her much now. She hasn't talked much since that day. She won't walk down the passage alone any more. She leans against the wall staring at the floor.
A GIRL AND THE UNWANTED INCIDENT IN 1900.
Gillian May 2013
for the friends i have loved and lost...i am not afraid to say the last thing i have to say to a long time companion...for i know that they have and will hear me...that it is the right and perfect thing to say, because it is me and all of my heart...singing as i go along so that i do not break...

she raised me, as much as my mom and sister did, and i thought i was different...that i wouldn't crack and divide...but i suppose sometimes i am that girl...who falls apart into a ball of tears...because my nanny is like the nervous system for my family, she's just too interconnected, just too big to fail...to fall...

and we always want the fall of our heroines to be graceful and gorgeous...but sometimes it's just bleak and plain...sometimes you watch your mentor, grandmother, caretaker, great friend, nanny die slowly...though it kills you and you fight for her with all this nervous frightened energy, this what will i do without her...

so i let my heart sing...because it hears her, it knows her, it is as much in tune with her as anyone else it loves...i let it be happy to honor what she wants...it's the closest i can come to praying...letting my heart sing and joy and bounce...letting it loose to the terror of my own embarrassment...

i will miss this, i will miss you...you kept the light on in the last homely house...i know that this will break my heart into so many pieces i will never find them all...there will always be holes the size and shape of you...
ConnectHook Apr 2018
Endless scoldings from the Nanny
mean-face global fascist granny;
data-driven witch of woe
born of winter’s frigid flow.

Boys rebel in her dull school:
passive subversion of her rule.
Minds thus stagnate—shut down early
graduating sullen, surly;
unsure why they hate the world,
emasculated and begirled.
Oh snap! No Haiku.
Got to come up with one quick . . .
OK (breathe again)
Terry Collett Jan 2014
Alice stands
in the room
by the stairs,
at the end
of the house;
the low end,
servant's end,
Father said,
don't go there,
but she does.

She goes down
the back stairs,
down long dark
passageways,
watching staff
in their world,
the kitchen,
scullery,
the wash room,
other rooms.

And this room.
She watches
the thin maid
called Mary
ironing.

Why're you here?
Mary asks.

To see you,
Alice says.

Why see me?
Mary asks.

I love you,
Alice  says.

Mary frowns.
You shouldn't
use those words,
Mary says
turning round.

Alice stands
her small hands
in pockets
of her blue
pinafore.

But I do,
I love you.

Why is that?
Mary asks.

You are kind
like Mother
used to be
before she
had to leave.

Mary heard,
rumours spread,
the mother
had to leave,
had problems
in the head,
locked away
so they say,
for a year
and a day.

She'll be back,
Mary says.

Alice sighs,
I love you,
I want you
to stand in
for Mother,
between us,
Alice says.

Mary sits
on a chair,
flushes red,
between us
I can be
I suppose,
Mary says.

Uncertain
of her pledge
she gazes
at the child
standing there.

Need a hug,
Alice says,
motherly.

Mary feels
at a lost
what to do.

Can I sit
on your lap?
Alice asks.

Mary nods
and opens
her thin arms.

Alice walks
to Mary
and climbs up
on her lap,
lays her head
on Mary's
silky *******,
smells apples
and green soap.

Mary hugs
her closer,
kisses on
the child's head.

Love you, too,
Mary says.

Our secret,
Alice says,
none must know.

None will know,
Mary says,
just we two.

Nanny's voice
echoes down
the passage
Best go now,
Mary says,
learn for me
at lessons,
do your best,
my daughter
adopted.

Alice nods,
kisses quick,
then goes up
the back stairs
out of sight.

Seen Alice?
Nanny asks.

Not at all,
Mary lies,
sees the dark
cruel eyes
scan the room.

She'll be pained
if she's caught
down this end,
Nanny says.

Then she gone,
her black skirt
swishing loud,
the black shoes
going click,
clack, click, clack.

Mary gives
a rude sign
with fingers
behind fat
Nanny's back.
A CHILD ASKS A SERVANT IN 1890S TO BE HER NEW MOTHER.
Terry Collett Dec 2013
Alice chalks
secretly, in
red and white,
a caricature

of the new
nanny her
father has hired.
The stick like

figure is spread
eagled across
the side wall
of the house,

red hair, eyes
and mouth,
white long
protruding

teeth and
four fingers
on each hand.
She has heard

her parents row;
the new nanny
took her by
her small hand

to the nursery
and sat her in
a chair; stay
there, she said.

She draws a
thin white line
of chalk through
the nanny's heart.

She stares, smiles,
and wipes her
hands on her
pinafore and

put her hands
behind her back.
Her father had
punished; her

mother had
cried and rowed
and now Alice
waits outside,

by the wall,
staring at the
caricature, the
stick nanny

with an arrow
through her heart.
The sun is dull;
rain threatens;

birds sing; the
thin maid walks
with a mild limp.
Alice waits for

rain; her hands
sense the area
of punishment
pain. Mother

loves and hugs
and kisses. Her
Father glares
and shouts

and smacks
and never misses.
Her name is Maureen, born in 1940,
she's the sexmachine who reeks of *****.
Mr.Kipling, PG Tip' drawstring;
for **** she recycle beefdripping.
I wasn't born when she was virginal,
she **** and she swallow, just not Werther's originals.

I like to bend my nanny's friend.

We do it doggy over her Zimmer.
I *** on her gums like knobbin' chopped liver.
Ernest died in the park, blowing his tuba,
where old dears go ******* on mobility scooters.
Crotchless incontinence pants, blue rinse *****
- Maureen,  I want to bracket your hinge!

I like to bend my nanny's friend.

I'm my lover's carer, her hip's artificial.
We bonk on blocked beds in the hospital.
Wet she ain't very, like a hipster's welly:
oil drums of **** at the ready!
Wet she ain't very, like a Texan prairie:
I'm the JR Ewing of KY Jelly!

I love to bend
my inflexible friend.
Vernon Waring Sep 2015
Her name was Nanette -
        A student from France
Who wore red blouses
        And **** red pants

She wanted to check out
        The U.S. of A.
So a couple with twins
        Hired her right away

The twins had their own
        Ideas for fun
They loved Disney World
        Their place in the sun

They frolicked on rides,
        Ate hot dogs galore,
Loved parades, Mickey Mouse,
        Fireworks, and more

But Nanette's heart wasn't in it
        The job was no fun
She had no real interest
        In tending to the young

Nothing could cheer up
        This nanny from Paree
She'd rather read tabloids
        Than watch twins under three

She clearly preferred
        The company of guys
With muscles, tattoos,
        And Jello shots on the side

The guys were bad boys
        Completely entranced
By the Parisian charmer
        And her flair for romance

But the parents were upset
        With her profligate passion
They decided to dismiss her
        In a daring fashion

They took her to the
        Tower of Terror one day
And left her shrieking
        As they ran away

And that was the last time
        They ever caught sight
Of that naughty Nanette
        From the City of Light
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q9fPWisuKyo

Her name is Maureen, born in 1940,
she's the sexmachine who reeks of *****.
Mr.Kipling, PG Tip' drawstring;
for **** she re-
cycle beefdripping.
I wasn't born when she was virginal,
she **** and she swallow, just not Werther's originals.

I like to bend my nanny's friend.

We do it doggy over her Zimmer.
I *** on her gums like knobbin' chopped liver.
Ernest died in the park, blowing his tuba,
where old dears go ******* on mobility scooters.
Crotchless incontinence pants, blue rinse *****
- Maureen,  I want to bracket your hinge.

I like to bend my nanny's friend.

I'm my lover's carer, her hip's artificial.
We bonk on blocked beds in the hospital.
Wet she ain't very, like a hipster's welly:
oil drums of **** at the ready!
Wet she ain't very, like a Texan prairie:
I'm the JR Ewing of KY Jelly!

I love to bend
my inflexible friend.
Nigel Morgan Jun 2013
She sent it to me as a text message, that is an image of a quote in situ, a piece of interpretation in a gallery. Saturday morning and I was driving home from a week in a remote cottage on a mountain. I had stopped to take one last look at the sea, where I usually take one last look, and the phone bleeped. A text message, but no text.  Just a photo of some words. It made me smile, the impossibility of it. Epic poems and tapestry weaving. Of course there are connections, in that for centuries the epic subject has so often been the stuff of the tapestry weaver’s art. I say this glibly, but cannot name a particular tapestry where this might be so. Those vast Arthurian pieces by William Morris to pictures by Burne-Jones have an epic quality both in scale and in subject, but, to my shame, I can’t put a name to one.

These days the tapestry can be epic once more - in size and intention - thanks to the successful, moneyed contemporary artist and those communities of weavers at West Dean and at Edinburgh’s Dovecot. Think of Grayson Perry’s The Walthamstowe Tapestry, a vast 3 x 15 metres executed by Ghentian weavers, a veritable apocalyptic vision where ‘Everyman, spat out at birth in a pool of blood, is doomed and predestined to spend his life navigating a chaotic yet banal landscape of brands and consumerism’.  Gosh! Doesn’t that sound epic!

I was at the Dovecot a little while ago, but the public gallery was closed. The weavers were too busy finishing Victoria Crowe’s Large Tree Group to cope with visitors. You see, I do know a little about this world even though my tapestry weaving is the sum total of three weekends tuition, even though I have a very large loom once owned by Marta Rogoyska. It languishes next door in the room that was going to be where I was to weave, where I was going to become someone other than I am. This is what I feel - just sometimes - when I’m at my floor loom, if only for those brief spells when life languishes sufficiently for me be slow and calm enough to pick up the shuttles and find the right coloured yarns. But I digress. In fact putting together tapestry and epic poetry is a digression from the intention of the quote on the image from that text - (it was from a letter to Janey written in Iceland). Her husband, William Morris, reckoned one could (indeed should) be able to compose an epic poem and weave a tapestry.  

This notion, this idea that such a thing as being actively poetic and throwing a pick or two should go hand in hand, and, in Morris’ words, be a required skill (or ‘he’d better shut up’), seemed (and still does a day later) an absurdity. Would such a man (must be a man I suppose) ‘never do any good at all’ because he can’t weave and compose epic poetry simultaneously?  Clearly so.  But then Morris wove his tapestries very early in the morning - often on a loom in his bedroom. Janey, I imagine, as with ladies of her day - she wasn’t one, being a stableman’s daughter, but she became one reading fluently in French and Italian and playing Beethoven on the piano- she had her own bedroom.

Do you know there are nights when I wish for my own room, even when sleeping with the one I love, as so often I wake in the night, and I lie there afraid (because I love her dearly and care for her precious rest) to disturb her sleep with reading or making notes, both of which I do when I’m alone.
Yet how very seductive is the idea of joining my loved one in her own space, amongst her fallen clothes, her books and treasures, her archives and precious things, those many letters folded into her bedside bookcase, and the little black books full of tender poems and attempts at sketches her admirer has bequeathed her when distant and apart. Equally seductive is the possibility of the knock on the bedroom / workroom door, and there she’ll be there like the woman in Michael Donaghy’s poem, a poem I find every time I search for it in his Collected Works one of the most arousing and ravishing pieces of verse I know: it makes me smile and imagine.  . .  Her personal vanishing point, she said, came when she leant against his study door all warm and wet and whispered 'Paolo’. Only she’ll say something in a barely audible voice like ‘Can I disturb you?’ and with her sparkling smile come in, and bring with her two cats and the hint of a naked breast nestling in the gap of the fold of her yellow Chinese gown she holds close to herself - so when she kneels on my single bed this gown opens and her beauty falls before her, and I am wholly, utterly lost that such loveliness is and can be so . . .

When I see a beautiful house, as I did last Thursday, far in the distance by an estuary-side, sheltering beneath wooded hills, and moor and rock-coloured mountains, with its long veranda, painted white, I imagine. I imagine our imaginary home where, when our many children are not staying in the summer months and work is impossible, we will live our ‘together yet apart’ lives. And there will be the joy of work. I will be like Ben Nicholson in that Italian villa his father-in-law bought, and have my workroom / bedroom facing a stark hillside with nothing but a carpenter’s table to lay out my scores. Whilst she, like Winifred, will work at a tidy table in her bedroom, a vase of spring flowers against the window with the estuary and the mountains beyond. Yes, her bedroom, not his, though their bed, their wonderful wooden 19C Swiss bed of oak, occupies this room and yes, in his room there is just a single affair, but robust, that he would sleep on when lunch had been late and friends had called, or they had been out calling and he wanted to give her the premise of having to go back to work – to be alone - when in fact he was going to sleep and dream, but she? She would work into the warm afternoons with the barest breeze tickling her bare feet, her body moving with the remembrance of his caresses as she woke him that morning from his deep, dark slumber. ‘Your brown eyes’, he would whisper, ‘your dear brown eyes the colour of an autumn leaf damp with dew’. And she would surround him with kisses and touch of her firm, long body and (before she cut her plaits) let her course long hair flow back and forward across his chest. And she did this because she knew he would later need the loneliness of his own space, need to put her aside, whereas she loved the scent of him in the room in which she worked, with his discarded clothes, the neck-tie on the door hanger he only reluctantly wore.

Back to epic poetry and its possibility. Even on its own, as a single, focused activity it seems to me, unadventurous poet that I am, an impossibility. But then, had I lived in the 1860s, it would probably not have seemed so difficult. There was no Radio 4 blathering on, no bleeb of arriving texts on the mobile. There were servants to see to supper, a nanny to keep the children at bay. At Kelmscott there was glorious Gloucestershire silence - only the roll and squeak of the wagon in the road and the rooks roosting. So, in the early mornings Morris could kneel at his vertical loom and, with a Burne-Jones cartoon to follow set behind the warp. With his yarns ready to hand, it would be like a modern child’s painting by numbers, his mind would be free to explore the fairy domain, the Icelandic sagas, the Welsh Mabinogion, the Kalevara from Finland, and write (in his head) an epic poem. These were often elaborations and retellings in his epic verse style of Norse and Icelandic sagas with titles like Sigurd the Volsung. Paul Thompson once said of Morris  ‘his method was to think out a poem in his head while he was busy at some other work.  He would sit at an easel, charcoal or brush in hand, working away at a design while he muttered to himself, 'bumble-beeing' as his family called it; then, when he thought he had got the lines, he would get up from the easel, prowl round the room still muttering, returning occasionally to add a touch to the design; then suddenly he would dash to the table and write out twenty or so lines.  As his pen slowed down, he would be looking around, and in a moment would be at work on another design.  Later, Morris would look at what he had written, and if he did not like it he would put it aside and try again.  But this way of working meant that he never submitted a draft to the painful evaluation which poetry requires’.

Let’s try a little of Sigurd

There was a dwelling of Kings ere the world was waxen old;
Dukes were the door-wards there, and the roofs were thatched with gold;
Earls were the wrights that wrought it, and silver nailed its doors;
Earls' wives were the weaving-women, queens' daughters strewed its floors,

And the masters of its song-craft were the mightiest men that cast
The sails of the storm of battle down the bickering blast.
There dwelt men merry-hearted, and in hope exceeding great
Met the good days and the evil as they went the way of fate:
There the Gods were unforgotten, yea whiles they walked with men,

Though e'en in that world's beginning rose a murmur now and again
Of the midward time and the fading and the last of the latter days,
And the entering in of the terror, and the death of the People's Praise.

Oh dear. And to think he sustained such poetry for another 340 lines, and that’s just book 1 of 4. So what dear reader, dear sender of that text image encouraging me to weave and write, just what would epic poetry be now? Where must one go for inspiration? Somewhere in the realms of sci-fi, something after Star-Wars or Ninja Warriors. It could be post-apocalyptic, a tale of mutants and a world damaged by chemicals or economic melt-down. Maybe a rich adventure of travel on a distant planet (with Sigourney Weaver of course), featuring brave deeds and the selfless heroism of saving companions from deadly encounters with amazing animals, monsters even. Or is ‘epic’ something else, something altogether beyond the Pixar Studios or James Cameron’s imagination? Is the  ‘epic’ now the province of AI boldly generating the computer game in 4D?  

And the epic poem? People once bought and read such published romances as they now buy and engage with on-line games. This is where the epic now belongs. On the tablet, PlayStation3, the X-Box. But, but . . . Poetry is so alive and well as a performance phenomenon, and with that oh so vigorous and relentless beat. Hell, look who won the T.S.Eliot prize this year! Story-telling lives and there are tales to be told, even if they are set in housing estates and not the ice caves of the frozen planet Golp. Just think of children’s literature, so rich and often so wild. This is word invention that revisits unashamedly those myths and sagas Morris loved, but in a different guise, with different names, in worlds that still bring together the incredible geographies of mountains and deserts and wilderness places, with fortresses and walled cities, and the startling, still unknown, yet to be discovered ocean depths.

                                    And so let my tale begin . . . My epic poem.

                                                 THE SEAGASP OF ENNLI.
       A TALE IN VERSE OF EARTHQUAKE, ISLAND FASTNESS, MALEVOLENT SPIRITS,
                                                AND REDEMPTIVE LOVE.
Terry Collett Nov 2016
Celia hugged Tabby to her chest the kitten sunk its small claws into Celia's white dress looked about the room and then settled down in Celia's lap and lay down purring loudly Celia smelt the soft black and brown and white fur and stroked it gently. Her parents were out some place in the country visiting relatives Masters the butler had poked his head in a while ago and asked if she needed anything and she had no she needed nothing and he had said to ring the bell if she needed anything and he would send Larch the kitchen maid who Celia knew as Lily a small girl with large dark eyes that sparkled and a soft manner of talking. Tabby closed its eyes and lay in Celia's lap satisfied where he was and Celia looked at him and wished he would stay awake so she could play with him but he seemed too tired to play so she let him sleep. Her brother Charles was away at school and wouldn't be back until the summer holidays when they could go down to the river at the bottom of the garden and fish or just lay and talk or Charles would tell her stories he made up or tales from school. Tabby purred loudly and its paws moved as if it was running in its dream and Celia wondered whether to lay him down on the rug by her bed and let him sleep and then she could do something other than be his bed. Nanny who usually looked after her and kept her out of mischief was unwell and was laid up in bed in her own room on the upper landing Celia missed having Nanny around and it was boring trying to make up her own mind what to do and it was Nanny who used to do her hair in the mornings and help her dress although Mother did talk about her having her own lady's maid  to help her and leave Nanny to do the other things but Father had said not now but when Celia was older but Celia quite liked the idea of having her own lady's maid someone she could talk to and who could help her in the mornings and evenings. She didn't like being alone she felt vulnerable especially when her father's friend's came to stay and one of them Mr Mealy stayed a plump middle-aged man who used to pull her unto his lap and would put his arms about her and hug her closed to him and his whiskers would tickled her neck and sometimes he would tickle her and she didn't like it and would squirm to get down and away but he was too strong for her and she would just stay there going red with frustration. She lifted Tabby and put him down gently on the rug by her bed and still he purred unaware he was not on her lap anymore. She went to the window and standing on a chair she peered out on the grounds below and the fields and trees beyond watching the birds in the air and down by the rose beds was Chubb the gardener sorting out the roses bending down then up again sometimes if she asked nicely Chubb would cut her a red rose to put in a vase in her room but today he looked far too busy for her to worry him about roses along the path was the tall maid with her dark hair pulled back in bun carrying a basket of washing to the line at the back of the house the maid's name was Betsy who seldom smiled and would scowl at Masters's back her dark eyebrows rising high and her thin tongue poking out at him while his back was turned and Celia had seen her do it one day while venturing along by the kitchen and Masters had been lecturing them about something or other. Having looked for a while at the grounds and fields and trees blowing a bit in the wind she climbed down from the chair and looked at Tabby asleep on the rug by her bed then thinking there was nothing to do in her bedroom she opened her door and looked both ways then closed the door behind her with a gentle click. Where to go and what to do she mused walking carefully along the landing tiptoeing past the guest's room in case anyone was there especially Mr Mealy with his hugs and tickles and touches and his breath in her ear and his stubby fingers holding her against him and she not liking it and attempting to get away but couldn't and that time he meet her on the stairs after lunch and he said about taking her for a walk by the river to show him the flowers that grew there and watch for fishes swimming along and she had said no thank you but Father insisted and she had to go and Mr Mealy held her small hand in his big hand and they walked slowly down the path to the river and he had lifted her up to smell a blossom on a cherry tree and his big hands were around her waist and she hated it and quickly smelt the blossoms to please him then he let her down again laughing. She stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down to see if anyone was coming up but no one was so she climbed down slowly one step at a time holding onto the banister with her right hand which she could just about reach the smooth wood running under her palm the smell of polish from her surroundings the bright light from the sun coming through the large windows in the hall. At the bottom she stopped and looked around the hall with the big wooden front doors facing her and windows on both sides and then to her right was the billiard room where her father went with his friends to play billiards and drink and smoke and talk to the right of that was her father's study where he spent time reading or writing or talking to friends. Just as she was gazing at the doors Masters the butler came along from the outer door which led along to the kitchens ah Miss Celia he said in his smooth baritone voice staring at her and stooping slightly can I be of any help? Or did you require anything? No she said softly looking at Masters's black shiny shoes I was just having a walk around o right yes well if you require anything ring one of the bells he said she looked up at him and smiled he smiled back and walked off hands at his sides his head slightly to one side as if he were a bird looking for a worm. She opened the door that led to the kitchen the door was heavy and it took her all her strength to open it wide enough to get through which she did and slid through the gap and walked down the stairs and along to the kitchen with its voices and pans and saucepans banging and people rushing about. When she got to the kitchen door she peered in and saw the cook Mrs Stark rolling out pastry on a big board her big arms and hands making easy work of it over the side by the sink was a kitchen maid a thin girl wearing a white cap with gingery hair poking out at the sides and back her thin red hands in water Mrs Stark saw Celia at the doorway and stopped what she was doing hello Miss Celia how can I help you? Mrs Stark said her voice firm but kindly at least with her when she spoke to the maid she bellowed like a cow in labour the kitchen maid looked around and stared at Celia the maid's name was Dolly or Darkins the cook called her if in a bad mood nothing Celia said unless you have any spare currants the cook smiled and said of course Miss Celia  come with me and Celia followed behind the cook who was big and waddled as she walked into the pantry and took down a huge glass jar and opened it up and poured currants into a container and gave Celia the container and put the glass jar back on the shelf. Can I sit by the fireplace? Celia asked looking at the cook's big red face of course you can she said so Celia walked over to the fireplace with the container of currants and sat on a wooden stool and watched the flames in the fire and gazed at the burning coals and thought maybe she would save some currants and give them when she got back to the room to her dolls.
A LITTLE GIRL IN A BIG HOUSE ONE AFTERNOON IN 1900
Terry Collett Dec 2013
Alice walks down
the steps to the dark
passage to the kitchen,
and stands at the door

looking in. Smells of
cooking, heat, bright
lights and sharp sounds.
Mrs Broadbeam in

white, and hair pinned
back, red flushed of face,
gazes at her. What are
you after, Miss Alice?

Mary, take the young
miss to the scullery
and fetch her a small
bowl of dried fruit,

she bellows over her
shoulder. The thin maid
comes over, red hands,
wet, eyes beaming.

She nods and takes
Alice's small hand,
and takes her across
the passage to the large

scullery, and lifts her
onto the bench. Sit there,
and please don't budge,
or I’m for it if you fall,

and goes off to the kitchen
to get a bowl of dried fruit.
Alice sits there, feeling
the hardness of the bench

under her bottom, no
longer painful where her
father smacked. She eyes
the large room with pots

and pans and plates and
dishes, knives and forks
and spoons of all sizes,
having been washed or

about to be washed. She
looks at the three large
sinks which come up to
her chin. The windows look

out onto the courtyard and
the small chapel with its
solitary bell. She can hear
voices from the kitchen,

banging of pots and pans,
sizzling and steam sounds.
She looks at the woods
beyond the chapel. She has

escaped the new nanny
with her beady eyes and
dark hair and moaning voice.
Her mother cried that morning

when she saw her after waking;
her eyes red and blotchy.
Her father shouting, storming
from the room, his eyes fire

and flamy. The thin maid enters
carrying a bowl of dried fruit.
Here you are, she says, be
careful not to choke, and hands

the little girl the small bowl.
Thank you, Mary, she says,
taking in the eyes and smile
and hair in a frizz. She eats

the dried fruit. The maid
watches, then carries on
washing the dishes, humming
a hymn, her hands becoming

redder as the water soaks.
A voice sounds in the passage
way, a voice calling Alice's
name, heavy tread, clapping

of hands. Alice freezes,
enlarges her eyes, holds
the bowl shaking. The maid
puts a finger to her lips and

walks out to the passageway.
Seen Miss Alice about here?
the nanny asks firmly. No,
can't say I have, the thin maid

says, hands dripping water,
eyes vacant, hair looking dull.
Well if you see her tell her to
go back to the schoolroom,

the nanny says, her voice brittle.
Will do, if I see her, the maid says,
indifferently, scratching her thigh.
The nanny goes off mumbling,

her footsteps echoing until gone.
What an ****, the maid says.
****? Alice says. Never you
mind about that, deary, best get

eating up and I'll take you another
way after. She smiles and touches
Alice’s cheek, leaving a damp
patch behind, a tiny tingle.

Alice eats the dried fruit,
ears cocked, eyes bright,
eyeing the thin maid as she
washes and stacks the dishes

high. She likes the hands that
rise and fall in slow motion as
if blessing, just like her mother's,
sans redness, when caressing.
A SMALL GIRL IN A KITCHEN OF A LARGE HOUSE IN 1890.
Javaria Waseem Jan 2015
“I’ll be there in a minute.” I shouted as I heard my brother calling me out. The whole village was gathering around the grand fire that was lit near the whispering trees. Every year, on the eve of the ninth full moon, the whole village was gathered around the fire to share stories and sing the old folk songs. I never knew why but it always soothed my soul in a very bizarre way.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes traced down my dark brown curls sitting on my shoulders down to the pendant of the snake that I was wearing.

My old nanny had gifted it to me this morning. “This was made when you were born, my little angel.” I brushed the fine bronze carving with my fingers. The details of the snake’s skin felt so real. The snake was curled up as if trying to hide in himself. “What’s the snake for, nanny?” I had asked her, flipping the pendant over. There was something about that little piece of jewelry that I could not take my eyes off it.“Do you know that a snake sheds off its skin as it grows a new one?” she had replied softly. “But they don’t just remove the old skin; they also remove the parasites along.”

Her words echoed in some distant part of my mind. “Snakes shed their skins.”

I stepped out under the open sky. The stars were all lined up as if waiting for my arrival. Everybody stopped chattering, even the great fire burning turned silent.

The old nanny broke the motion and moved towards me. “Come, my child”, she welcomed me with a smile. With that everyone lowered their gaze and bent down on their knees. The local women started singing the old folk song that I heard since I was a kid but only now the words made sense to me.

“It’s finally the time for the snake to shed its skin,
on this night, we all gather to welcome our new princess
to whom we vow to obey and please
who’ll rule the kingdom of the whispering trees.”
Kimmy-Nichole Jul 2011
so this just in.
last night, after a grueling  day of nanny-ing, I went to  the davis consignment store and broused around   finding some numerous  cute tops and shorts as well as purchasing 2 new books to add to my reading collection ( i just finished the time travelers wife.)
so than  around 4pm  I  was heading to B st  where I   was meeting with my future roomate, who by the was amazingly nice and pretty and has a boyfriend and turns 21 in september. Im so excited to leave parkside apts - living in north davis is such a drag. Central Davis here I come  ( Ill be living   5 minutes to  UC davis, an amazing arbotreum, pools, the davis Arc and frat  row and party city. This is going to be the best thing  that has happened to me.)
So after that  I went back to my  apt  and as giddly as ever, called my mom to  tell her my amazing roomate  news.   ( mY moms finally really proud of me. I am working 2 full time jobs as a nanny  from 8:30 am  to 2:30 pm than my night nanny job  4:30 pm to 5:30 am except on wed thur fridays.)
so it being my night off, i   figured why not go out.  so my apartment neighbor whom i met at the gym friend jesse who is 29, studied as a foreign exchange student in finland for a year, gotten a dui, is a davis townie, went to a  college called will-am-eit  and was in a fraternity out there. he is fun to go out with and bar hop in downtown with; the last time i was  out with jesse, i went to a bar called sophias than later on met up with my ex crush who is this charming dbag from winters named chad and got fun drunk. Well in aims for that spirit again we started off  by drinking and laughing at my apt . we decided to go lay out by the hot tub  and drank beer  being sillly kids. we decided to hit up downtown davis for this bar called the grad. It was beach themed  country line dancing night. Yeah , being alone because  your friend is off showing off his line dancing with precision kinda moves and meeting line dancing babes in bikinis ...awkward for sure. so amungst bying my own 2 beers which were hand picked by my big  and sure of himself bartender, which eventually  led to my  very  interesting night of drunken madness. It kicked off on as previously mentioned on the way to the grad which lead to me leaving with this older woman in a cab to another bar that was supposed to be more enertaining.  I ended up forgetting my id at the grad, my phone was dead and to top it all off  i didnt know anyone s number at the top of my head.  i decided to take matters in to my own feet and chose to hoof it back to my apt on f street. god, what a long and stupering night that was.  when i finally made it, out of exhaustion and drunkness , i  collided onto my neighbors couch still in    last nights outfit. karla  woke me up at 7 :30 and i showered  feeling super ****** and groggy , i couldnt eat or drink. I had work at 8:30. not feeling so hot, i was slowly getting through the day. the kids and i all layed on and under blankets and stuffed animals, and i told stories. it was really cute and relaxing. i love those kids.prior to that i threw up. after that it was time to drop off timothy at therapy, than abigail and abraham at speech therapy. I threw up in the bathroom, and on the sideof the minivan in front of ruth and timothy. ugh.    
so  than after i talked to my neighbor  slash ex boyfriend patrick about getting in connection with a a herb that helps me feel better by increasing my appittie and helping me sleep. he provided wth that special  herb. while sitting and smoking, i felt the spark that we used to have. i confessed to sleeping with a guy i met in newport two weeks ago on the fourth of july when i went back home. patrick told me he has hooked up with this slutty townie girl, and i wish them both std free happyness.

here i am typing away , getting sleepier and sleepier. Tonight will be a  early night indeed. i love my new spirit and i love who i am. i love where i am going. i will not exceed more alcohol than my tiny light weight body can handle.. Well it feels good to write. i know i must get back on that writing more often. until next time,
-Kimmy
Theia Eos Sep 2014
I never knew what caused the truck to crash into our car that morning. Perhaps it was the rain and the road was slippery, perhaps it was yet again another case of “do not drink and drive”, or perhaps the man behind the wheel was not at all to blame, and that it was the fault of the engines.

The crash and screech of metal on metal was deafening. It happened so fast and when I woke, I looked to my side and saw a face I knew so well, except this time I could not see her beautiful features; her skin was covered in blood, like red paint splashed onto a plain white canvas. And in the red I could see glistening shards of glass, like diamonds proud to have finally found an owner. Then I heard in the distance, voices and shouts. I could not make out the words they were saying, as if I was trying to hear someone underwater. I looked up outside the window, and there stood a man shouting at me, a foreign face. I feel my tiny figure being carried out of the car window, as the door decided it would not open.

We waited on the terrace of an old lady’s house for help to come. The shock made me feel numb and so I just sat quietly, with the cry of my nanny in the background, her body hugging my sister and my mother, who are unconscious and have yet to know what had happened.

Then, I did not how, but I arrived at the hospital where I saw my dad run past me into the room. I remember mostly the smell of disinfectant and finding little pieces of glass in my hair.

I lost my ability to speak for a few days after the incident, and I feel now that it impacted me more than I thought it did.

The shock and horror are no longer, but it is strange now to remember what had happened. When I close my eyes and recall the accident, some details are so vivid and clear. Yet at the same time, I feel as though it all never happened, like it was some sort of false memory implanted in my head for no apparent reason.
Mike Essig Aug 2016
Word salad. Everyone a poet. But use the correct fork.
Sometimes you’re the road sign, sometimes the weary traveler.
Woke up craving attention again. The cat was unimpressed.
Pay no attention to my browsing history. I’m a writer, not a serial killer.
Women never want much, only everything you are or will be or can’t.
He said he would stuff my taco unlike any man before him,
and boy did he! So full! I’ve always wanted a man who could cook.
Some day’s, you just know that the jail time was worth it.
Dementor support group meets Thursday evening at Starbucks.
Cows who give milk for free only meet lecherous farmers.
Australia’s Oldest Man Knits Tiny Sweaters For Injured Penguins
Relearn the dying art of thinking before you ******* speak.
I scream. You scream. We come. Police come. Awkward.
Jumpin’ jizzimy Jehoshaphat. Sticky patrol cars. Safety catches.
Thought it was a loofah, but it turned out to be steel wool.
A few moments of pleasure. A full year of skin grafts.
Onan’s Handy Man Service. No job too small. Try me.
Sixty is the new 40? Try getting your ***** to believe that.
Often lost but never alone. Handy to have a hand handy. True love.
You meet the love of your life and find out she puts ketchup on pizza.
I never flirt with danger but danger just keeps on insisting.
Life hits like a girl. Thing is, like a girl that hits really hard.
She almost put on ******* today, it was a clothes call.
She lost me at: Forgot the safe word? Excellent! Here we go.
Her ad slogan: my greatest satisfaction, awakening your passion.
She dumped me because I just stood there with my moves drooping.
Watching Internet *** is like ******* without arms.
I bet that pride of yours doesn’t enjoy snuggling like I do.
Sobriety, never as delicious as an exquisite bad lifestyle buffet.
Ask your doctor before beginning the ****** and whiskey diet.
You don’t have to be desperately lonely to tweet, but it helps.
Yep. Something is happening. But you won’t know what it is.
The only fact is that you’ll never understand anything at all.
***** anything you like. After all, only everyone will see it.
Sleep children. Sweet Dreams. Dreams of angry cassowaries.
Nanny will be here to sweep up the pieces in the morning.
John F McCullagh Jun 2012
Do you really need that second slice?
Don't you dare to super size!
Guzzling down large sugary drinks-
Do you rally think that's wise?

Your hamburger is much too large
I'd cur it down to size
until its like those square ones
that White Castle serves sans fries.

I taught the City not to smoke
in that I was thought wise.
Unhand that Nathans hot dog!
It will go straight to your thighs.

I guess I'm just a Puritan,
my happiness undone
by the thought that somewhere, someone
might still be having fun.
galen treger Mar 2010
is it faith or is it life?
is the humanization of god in correlation with my loved ones who watch over me?
is it weird that i believe nanny and poppy and grandpop watch over me but i cant grasp the conceptualization of god?
maybe because it is confirmed that they are concrete beings whom i loved, and loved me.
is that a different believed concept?
when something is bad that is reality.
when something is good, someone is watching out for me.
it is said that god watches over us, protects us, forgives us, and comforts us.
that is what our parents do. and they are concrete beings.
that is also what i have always believed nanny to do.
i always think she is with me. poppy and grandpop too.
like the guy at subway with the stamp
that was poppy.
he always had random little things when anyone needed them.
like pocket tissues in his back pocket or lifesaver breath mints in his shirt pocket, next to a pen.
or when things work out in really good timing. irony.
when i need to be strong, honest, and self abiding,
thats grandpop.
he taught me to be strong willed and that life is what you make it
and all of the things on this earth that are beautiful,
is nanny.
every bit of warmth i feel on my body from the sun
every breeze that doesn’t give me a chill
every perfect summer night with every perfect summer sky
every sip of red wine and every handful of m&ms;
all of these people raised my mom.
so she is here. in their form.
carrying on their traditions and their ways
that must be the circle of life.
Donna Oct 2017
I remember the days
when I was a kid
and my nanny Rose
lived with me mum sis and bro!
She always smelled so pretty!
Every morning she would
get up early and put on one
of her flowery dresses
even in winter she looked
like summer and she
always sprayed so much
lacquer in her lovely brown hair  
i tasted it everytime!
She worked up London
in a big firm working as a tea lady
Everyday she would push her
little trolley full
of tea and biscuits
into all the offices
she was so loved by all her
employers!
Once a year she would
take us all to see the
Lord Major show up London
and  we would wave our flags
and have a jolly good time.
Every night she would leave
her pearly teeth in a cup
and oh my! did she snore loud
Me and my sister would laugh
under the bed sheets hoping she
wouldn't hear us!
I miss my nanny Rose a lot
she was truly a wonderful lady
and rests softly and warmly
in my memories and my heart
always **
Inspired after readin john baverstock poem about his Nan :)
Thank u john your lovely poem made me think of my lovely nanny Rose x
Jean Allan trying to connect with Brian



Jean Allan is Brian Allan's Nanna who died in 1997
And Brian, now is helping the Belconnen magpies with
The barbecue, Jean felt so happy, and she sent her
Earth life to the Belconnen Magpies games, in the form
Of a kid named Alex, who was there to help out with
The carrying of the water, and also he's a fan of the
GWS Giants, now, Brian doesn't know this kid, and
Jean doesn't want her earth life to contact Brian
Even though he smiled at Brian on the way to the
GWS Giants he smiled at Brian, and that smile
Was saying hi Brian, this is Nanny, and I am
Staying in Canberra a while, and really I didn't figure it out
But Nanny will always be Alex, whether Brian sees him again or not
Jean wants her earth life to see Brian again
Because it would be great if they can be cool together
But this kid isn't my Nanna in this life, so really I have to be aware
You see my pop was in Canberra back in the 80s
In the form of a kid who said I was one of us
And that made me feel like I was very cool
And it makes sense that he was pop
So at the moment it's Nanny who is hanging around me
And I want to see Alex again, because it makes sense to me
That he's Nanny, oh yeah, it sounds more real
Jean Allan is sitting on Saturn talking to Alexander Gimbert
And he said that don't worry that he couldn't figure you out
Because if Brian knew that I was him back then
He would've been mental earlier, but you need to come back to him, Jean
And Jean said, maybe so, I will be back with my earth life
Brian Allan, yes I will see you again
Brendan Barber Aug 2014
When I wake up I can see,
I pass your ugly ***,
Shes a thot and looks like a he,
So many disease ****** dusty like snow,
Ugly *** ***** that looks like nanny mc fee,
I look you in the face and dont even know,
These eyes ******* burn like hell
I look at you and wanna cry,
You were a mistake we can all tell,
I just wanna ******* punch you oh my......
Its time for you to back to hell,
When you die that will be my high, im going to hit you with holy water you will burn I can tell,
**** this ugly ***** your going to die,
Knocked you out and you fell,
Smash your face and ring it like a bell,
Never will you catch me say,
To the street your going to sell,
Gone forever never hear a hey
Mary Ann Osgood Jul 2010
Buttercup, she whispered to me,
your hair is falling out.
I began to worry, and I wanted to scream
but I stopped myself because
I had already screamed once that day,
and she always seems to tell me
Once is enough.

But my dad found out what she had been saying to me,
he told me she was lying,
but then I had no idea what to believe.
I missed the feeling of loosing hair,
and I missed the way it felt as it landed on my shoulders.

At the grocery store
while choosing between strawberry and grape jam
some twenty years later,
I glimpsed her humor in my peripheral vision
and I turned to dance with her
but faced only the peanut butter.

I have seen the sun at night
but only when I was sleeping,
and she always used to tell me
Night time is when things aren't real.*
And I believed her.
Carrie Ross Dec 2011
Safe and sound
Sounds good to me
Wedyan AlMadani Jan 2013
Ever since I was a little girl I wanted to write.
Something about words and books mesmerized me and captured my heart.
You would always find children playing with the sand at the beach building sand castles and their dreams but me, I’d always find myself looking for a shade away from the noise to read my favorite fairytale. My mother always thought that I didn’t like other children and their company. I liked other children but I liked myself more and enjoyed being alone with my fairytales and daydreams. I was raised as an only child. I’ve always seen little boys and girls playing around and I secretly wanted to be with them, to play aloud and laugh so innocently but I couldn’t so I would just smile at them and walk away. I was too shy. Even as a little girl people always said that there’s something different about me, too quite and polite. My mother used to take great pride in that. She had the quite girl with the angelic smile. Yes, I used to smile a lot even to strangers. I never remember why though. I loved her with all my life even though she wasn’t always there, my mother was.. I don’t remember what she was like but they all told me that no matter what, she always loved me. I remember sneaking into her bed when I was afraid, but I don’t remember what used to frighten me. I know that I wasn’t afraid of the dark; in fact I loved the dark. I couldn’t sleep with a single dim light on. My nanny used to tell me a bedtime story every night before I go to sleep.  I remember that I couldn’t sleep without holding her hand and hugging her. Can you believe it? I couldn’t sleep without having my nanny holding me. She was the love of my life. I loved her more than my own mother I am afraid. She loved me like I was her own. And every time she travels to visit her family, I would cry myself to sleep. Remembering her smile, her bedtime stories and every time she held my small hands. My mother used to come check on me in bed and I used to hide beneath my blanket because I never wanted her to see my tears. Every time she tries to read me a bedtime story it never felt the same. I used to write about how I miss my nanny and how it never felt the same with my mother. I used to write about a lot of things when I was younger. I used to love the smell of a new notebook or a book. I would read a book then write about how I enjoyed it. I used to have a lot of pens and pencils I loved pens because they made my handwriting look pretty and pencils because they would let me erase my mistakes. I never chose between them so I found myself writing with both of them in every page.
As a child I had so many scattered thoughts, whenever I start writing I find myself end up drawing on the same notebook.  I loved drawing as well. I used to buy all the different pencils because colors were too much for me. I loved seeing them but I never liked using colors. I loved every shade of grey there was. And I loved my pens and pencils the most of all.
Jeanelle Averett Feb 2016
We moved out west to Hollywood
And quickly settled down
Amongst the rich and famous in
The heart of Tinsel Town

I joined the local Lion’s Club
My wife, the PTA
The kiddos were ecstatic when
Invited out to play

They called for pick up early and
We asked them on the go
Just how it went with their new friends
In Nine 0 Two One 0

They answered back in unison
It wasn’t fun and games
These California movie stars
Give kids the strangest names

The Nanny said that we should play
With Coco on the lawn
So we made some in the kitchen
High-fived...and said, ‘Game on’

Were we to know that ‘Coco’ meant
A girl and not a drink
Oh, pardon our absurdity
And poured ours down the sink

About that time the Nanny said
That Apple was out back
So we patted on our tummies
Oh, fi-na-lly...a snack

Were we to know that ‘Apple’ was
A friend of Choc’late Moo
Of the sev’ral major food groups
We’d shared play time with two

About that time the Nanny said
That Blanket’s on the deck
We weren’t the least bit cold at all
But, wrapped up for a sec

Were we to know that ‘Blanket’ was
A boy and not a spread
The blankets back where we came from
Were folded on our bed

About that time the Nanny said
Tu Morrow’s on her way
And wanted us to stay until
Tu Morrow came--to play

We didn’t know ‘Tu Morrow’ meant
Not staying for a snooze
So we begged off playing longer
We were getting too confused!
Sharina Saad May 2013
Courtesy Is Contagious
Let us start by saying the magical word PLEASE.....
Remember nanny Mc Phee's wisdom?
Say THANKS, say SORRY, say PLEASE...
show them how courteous we are...
so PLEASE say PLEASE.....
Judith Ayers Aug 2013
Not everything is in past tense yet.

Viewers have come and gone but the church is almost full and we sit tight.

I know moms mind runs with memories

she tells us in the car.

too tall for life.

too big to lose.

the preacher said

45 to 2.

and the car crash

spinning glass

Johnny flew out the window

Steve couldn’t speak for weeks

The other boy didn’t die in that car crash

Another one

on the road out of port deposit

his leather belt was all they found

a stern warning to us all. Don’t drive too fast. This life will stop you short. too short.

I think they all would have survived, happy together

if there was no car crash.

no noon call

no bloodied limbs

torn flesh and empty bodies.

No “this is the biggest funeral we’ve ever seen” and state police escort to the cemetery.

No stuffing foods down moms throat and too many strangers in her home.

They would have all survived.

in spite of pop pop

nanny

together but separate.

Mom remembers when he came into her room

livid

she got close to the 4 pained window

if he reached out and stung her sweating skin she was gonna bust out that glass and touch the sky.

But instead I haven’t seen my cousins in 20 years

my whole life

and today, despite the tears and tongue crunching agony, there’s stories of the happy through the tears times.

So the preacher finishes with stories of her

too much love to live

too much faith to finish

Nanny

always Nanny

But until we meet.

We’ll make you proud.

you and mom

dust to dust

ashes to ashes

I hold the faces of the past in my blood

You keep me pumping

you keep me pushing

despite tears and tongue crushing agony

despite too broad grins and sunshine in summer joy
Ayeshah Mar 2010
(Readers I been going crazy to write  like this for a long time so if it suxs  too bad lol please read its a bit long also 4 those who do ty for reading & commenting)
________________­_______________
She seen his stares since earlier in the ball room & during most of their acquaintance's growing up also when he'd visited her family at her home in Hampshire... She bluntly ignored his many advances while
at the Queen's Ball and she also publicly shunned him in front of  many aristocrats, He asked her even then to be his wife, She flat out said NO! with out going through the proper channels it  "*******" just wasn't done,  Her chaperon Lady Gideon was no where to be found so she did what she thought was best and walked away from him as fast as her small frame would allow.  

She did indeed find Lady Gideon in the kitchens with  the cook in the "Blimey!" broom closet. NOW on this night she'd truly become his and pay for her misdeeds & mistreatment's of him at The Queen's Ball...Duke Lincoln Pierre held his new bride Virgina Abagael Pierre  
tightly as he assaulted her mouth thrusting his tongue in her mouth- parting her lips in a seductive dance, as his hands moved lavishly up & down her buttocks, betwixt her bodice caressing her breast.

Lincoln tried hard to control his need for his new bride,  He was supposed  to be with his "mates" for another hour or so whilst his-  " well now" his wife's maids readied her for their marriage bed.
Lincoln couldn't wait & as he rushed his guest out the door not even
waiting for Jefferey his Butler to do so, He ran taking the steps two at a time, His need for Virgina was more then lust.  He wanted her ever since she shunned him at the Queens ball & as he visited her home--  watching her bloom into womanhood, Tonight she'd pay for his humiliations of that night at the Ball. He burst open the door and bellowed  for the maids to Get OUT!

At once they went running like rats. All except Beatrix stood her
ground and told him in not to kind-of words that  "She" had to prepare Virgina properly and He was acting reckless.
Beatrix  was his nanny & nursery maid, she was  also there when he first open his sparkling  hazel round eyes, God rest "Duckies" soul, His mum, she died in this same bed whilst she gave her last breath for this handsome devil.  His Da,  poor man was getting on in age and this was a wish he left in his will to be fulfilled before he died. "Lin" as she'd called him must fulfill but without scaring the poor chit off.

She unfasten Virgina's stays & hooks as fast as her old hands would allow, before she could help her out of her bodice  "Lin" ushered her out....Well she'd said her peace and exit Lincoln's rooms praying as she left.....
Lincoln kept  up his assault  while Virgina had a look of fear & misunderstanding in her mahogany sapphire eyes, Her small frame was shaking to her very core,  Poor chit but it couldn't be helped he was in a rush to be done with virgins and their silly concepts of love ex specially this "his" new prudent bride,  Yet he wanted to make her come alive, bring out the "bleed'in devil" of lust he knew was trapped deep within Virgina's un tapped core.
Lincoln teased and licked as he removed her clothing, ripping a bit of fabric in is haste, she kissed him back! Shocking his own sense of sensibility.

He picked her up splayed her on the bed and stared at her dark luscious Honey chocolate  creamy coco skin, it shined like a lovely indigo ocean on a summers night.
With carious longing and dread,
it was still an interesting moment Virgina didn't know what to do and as he capture her waist she felt  even more unsure, sensing a thrilling sensation wash over her,  Her new husband Duke Lincoln Pierre kissed her with un-abandon lust Virgina instinctively crawled up to the head board on the bed, as she did so her new husband reached for her in a blink of an eye she was caught in his steel grip, she cried out not for pain but because she had no ideal what he meant to do with her,

Lincoln laughed and made a tsk tsk sound as he pulled himself atop of Virgina.  "My Lady I beseech you please leave off I mean you no harm''
Lincoln proclaimed yet his meek smile said he was lying,
Virgina only stared with her mouth gaped in a perfect lush O shape.  
Her husband undone he own clothes  in a heated rush.  
Once done he stalked towards her kneeling on the bed.  
With Virgina's gaze fixed tranquilly on his stiff shaft, she looked at it apprehensively  she wanted to move away yet her limbs wouldn't allow her to and with banned tears threatening to over flow
she ****** in her breath as her capture Duke Pierre her husband climb a top of her.  

Little did her husband know she'd wanted  him all her life she longed to become his bride but she had no ideal it entailed this rough treatment of her person to gain access.
She'd sit with her own nanny "Liv" short for Olivia  
at Hyde Park watching as his carriage made it's rounds.  She dreamed even then to marry him, his eyes always laughing and He was forever teasing her when He'd visited  her "now" deceased parents lord Duke&Duchess; Harrisburg. She'd dream he were always saving her from dragons and evil villains.

But tonight he seemed the Villain.
As he touched creatively over her she felt flushed, his hands trailed down to her hairline where her tulip was hidden as he proceeded to caress her he felt for her budded rosebud playing teasing  rubbing his fingers with gentleness over her.
He continued until Virgina's head was thrashing wildly left & right on the pillow she was scared and shocked not knowing what was coming over her,  she wanted something--   this need that was growing  building within her, she didn't understand and it made her feel weak with a longing she couldn't comprehend, as he removed his finger & hand a light yet cool breeze cam through the cracked window causing the sensation to slowly subside Lincoln moved down trailing kisses as he went his mouth hovered mere inches above her tight yearning rosebud he bet down and tasted honey as he licked in an out of his new bride, sliding his index finger within her tight silt wile wrapping his mouth around her budding rose, he ******, gently  causing Virgina automatically to lift her legs wrapping her hands in his golden brown hair.

He felt her throbbing shaking and he wanted to laugh because of him she now new what it meant to be pleasured,  Virgina began trembling with a urgency not knowing what her body wanted just that she liked this feeling that washed over her from her toes up to her Honey dark coco head.  Her long brown auburn hair fell in waves of curls around her as she melted to her husbands ministrations.

Lincoln could barely contain his want and in his eyes His new bride was a wanton ready for plucking like a ripe strawberry, His little filly was bucking beneath his demonstration's.
He'd played with the God's wile tempting the devil & now there was Hell to pay...  Sadly for his new ****** bride he could no longer hold back, he wanted to consume her, his control was failing, wreaking havoc on his now intoxicating senses.  

Virgina bucked up towards his mouth letting out a seductive cry breaking Lincoln's last restraints  
He spread her wide held her fast
both his hand on either side of her hips as he lead his shaft within her lustrous wet inviting opening, moving in her swiftly as to not cause any more unnecessary pain,
He felt her maiden-head give way but it was to late t pause, he try not to move slow,
which with half in sympathy he wanted to stop his penetrating ****** yet his need for release in his new ****** brides velvet tight silt kept him urging forward deeper&deeper; within her tight walls.

Virgina let out a piercing scream as she also called out Lincoln's name twas an interesting moment when a fierce jolt consumed both occupants of this lovers den, she cried out as he ******'ed deeper still within his new bride....

No longer did he want to  punish her he felt something chip away at his heart releasing a need to want more then her body as they coiled becoming meshed together in legs & limbs traveling on waves of ******* bliss.
Duke & Duchess Pierre

Always Me Ayeshah
Copyright ©
Ayeshah K.C.L.N 1977-Present YEAR(s)
All right reserved
John Ryles Apr 2010
The two collieries where I was employed,
Houses now stand winders destroyed.
From a window where I controlled the flow,
I could see the horizon far and low.
I can also see sunrise and set,
Pictures past I won’t forget.
Through the shifts seasons would go,
From summer sun to winter snow.
To wake one morning already too late,
Decisions were made to close the gate.
Work was gone and mates were lost,
Ripped apart at great cost.
Left us with a grey slurry beach,
The nanny goat path we walked to reach.
Down to the coast a ***** line,
Carried shale from the mine.
Through our town they ran so fast,
To tip more waste upon the blast.
Now I sit where I want to be,
Looking out at the great North Sea.
From chemical beach to clean east shore,
The north east pits are no more.
From brownie box in old dark room,
To Digital with super zoom.
Memories fade but photos show,
All we really need to know.
St Marys church to Hawthorn hive,
These scenes of Seaham will survive.
Nigel Morgan Dec 2012
He said I’m the wrong shape. I could do with putting on a few pounds and, almost as an after thought he said, you’ll have to cut your hair – yourself.  I know she was an artist, and a mother, and a gardener. I had to admit to him I didn’t know any painters. My cousin Julie’s a sculptor – same thing he said – but I had to tell him I hadn’t yet looked at her painting, only what he showed us in his presentation.  He then told me exactly where in the National Museum of Wales I could see one of her paintings – Gallery 14 – and its from this period, a Parisiene picture. He suggested I might go to Cambridge and spend a day at a place called Kettles Yard. There are more Winifreds there than anywhere else in the UK, and many pictures by her close friend Christopher Wood.
 
Oh dear. This is difficult. The only thing going for me seems I’m about the right age and I’ve have children, though mine are older than hers in the production. I was so surprised to get this part, but as Michael said over the phone, your profile fits. Except for the weight and the hair, and I know nothing about painting. Why should I? Jeff told me, the composer Morton Feldman once said if you haven’t got a friend whose a painter, you’re in trouble. I’m in trouble. But he has very kind eyes and when he touched me gently on the shoulder after Lizzie and I sung that shells duet I had to look away.
 
Reaching down arm-deep into bright water
I gathered on white sand under waves
Shells, drifted up on beaches where I alone
Inhabit a finite world of years and days.
I reached my arm down a myriad years
To gather treasure from the yester-millennial sea-floor,
Held in my fingers forms shaped on the day of creation….
 
They sleep on the ocean floor like humming-tops
Whose music is the mother-of-pearl octave of the rainbow,
Harmonious shells that whisper for ever in our ears,
‘The world that you inhabit has not yet been created’

 
Mind you, I don’t envy Lizzie being Kathleen Raine. Now that is a difficult part, even though she’s only in Act 2. Raine was definitely odd. He says I have to understand their friendship, because there was something about it that made them both more than they were. I don’t understand that.
 
Jane and the children are amazing already. Martin (my ‘other’ half Ben Nicholson) said they’d been rehearsing with Robert because his wife (Robert’s wife Debbie) is at WNO and they were scared about this one. I’ll say this for him he knows exactly how children interrupt, constantly. It’s clever the way he uses the interruptions to change direction of the dialogue. Conversations are often left unfinished. The bit when that ***** Barbara visits the apartment unexpectedly is brilliant. She’s completely demolished by these kids of her lover.
 
But those letters . . . he said, can you imagine your husband writing to you over a period of 40 years? Quite a thought that. David wrote to me a few times when I was in Madrid for Cosi just after we’d met, but it was all telephone calls after that. Why waste paper, time and a stamp. But I take his point – their letters are so beautiful – and they were separated for God’s sake. He’d gone off with another woman, and even brought her to Paris. And you could not have two totally different women – she ,slight, chain-smoking, work-a-holic, sharp-tongued with that Yorkshire edge, and me with ‘a quiet voice, trying always to be gentle and kind ‘– W would be called an earth-mother these days. She was a kind of hippie, only she had money – mind you most of those hippies of the 60s had money otherwise they couldn’t have done drugs (heard that on Radio 4 last week in a programme about Richard Brautigan). But they wrote to each other almost every day.
 
Dear Ben,.
            Do you know there are several kinds of happiness, and there is one sort which I have found. It is the sort that is within oneself, enjoying fresh promise, and taking all the experiences of life that one has been through, so-called sad ones and so-called happy ones, to make up understanding that is further on than joy or sorrow. I have been extremely lucky – I have had ten years of companionship with an ‘all-time’ painter, working in the medium of classic eternity and that has been better than a lifetime with any second-class person – isn’t it - I have found it so…
 
Best love Winifred

 
What’s clever about the letter sequences is the way the two-way correspondence is handled as a duet and right in the middle of it you’ll get a flashback – like Winifred suddenly remembering her first meeting with Ben.
 
I heard this voice
In the room next door
I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t move
I knew, I knew for certain
This was the man I would marry.
And when we were introduced
He seemed to know this too.

 
We gaily call this an opera, but it’s not. It’s something else. It simply doesn’t do what you think it’s going to do. Even when you do something for a second time the accompaniment doesn’t do what you expect and remembered. It’s this open-form business. Something else I know nothing about. He mentioned Umberto Eco – now I’ve read Name of the Rose. When Braque or Mondrian or Jan Eps visit unannounced I have no idea which one it’s going to be – these guys just used to turn up. Sometimes two at once. W didn’t invite them. They came for her English hospitality (home baking I think) and her beautiful apartment come studio – beautiful, because she made it so. Her French was appalling, and this is difficult because I speak quite well, and now I have to speak like an idiot. Bridget  (playing Cissy the Cumbrian nanny) having her French lesson is a hoot, and with the children correcting her all the time, it’s lovely.
 
He was very sweet when we broke for lunch. Sara, he said, as I collapsed into an auditorium seat to find my bag and mobile, Sara, we’ve got to find you a painter to spend a day with . . . so you’ll know how to stand in front of an easel.  I phoned Sarah Jane Brown who has a studio in Cardiff and she’d love to meet you. Here’s her number. She paints flowers and landscapes – as well as the abstract stuff - just like Winifred. Her tutor at the RCA actually knew Winifred. And with that he disappeared to a dark corner of the theatre and unwrapped his sandwiches. You can tell he’s not into break discussions with Julian or Michael. I think he’s terribly shy. He’s interested in the cast and so he picks them off one by one. Julian I know doesn’t like this. I think everything needs to go through me, he said at the end of yesterday’s rehearsal. Who does he think he is?! Lizzie reminded Julian he was the composer and what he doesn’t know about this whole period and its characters isn’t knowledge. Liz thinks he’s a sweetie – and she’s sung his Raine settings at Branwyn Hall last year – with Robert who was his MD with BBCNOW. Liz knows Julian hasn’t done his usual homework because he’s got this production in Birmingham on the boil. Unknown Colour is a distraction he can do without.
 
This afternoon it’s back to the mayhem of those ensemble scenes in Act 1. They’re quite crazy, but I’m already beginning to feel I can start to be someone other than me. Did you know I have this lovely song? It’s quite Sondheim . . .
 
*I like to have a picture in my room.
Without one, my room feels bare
however much furniture is there;
Pictures play so many roles.
My room has too much going on in it
for something extravagant.
In the morning it is a sanctuary,
in the daytime a factory,
in the evening a place of festivity,
and through the night a place of rest.
 
I want a window in it,  
And a focal point, something alive and silent.
A bunch of flowers on the window sill?
Yes, but they will wither.
A cat curled up on the hearth?
Yes, but it will go away and prowl upon the rooftops.
 
A picture will always be there.
It will make no sound. It will wait.
If it is true I shall never grow tired of it.
I shall see something fresh in it
when I glance at it tomorrow.
It will always be my friend.
Donna Mar 2018
Dear nanny Rose I
miss you so very much but
in my heart you bloom

I loved your dresses
Your pretty flowery frocks
Just like a spring day

Do you remember
every night without fail you
would take out your teeth

And pop them in a
spotted beaker on bathroom
shelve next to your brush

Every night you would
call me into bathroom to help
wash your back with soap

We shared same bedroom
And you snored so loud you kept
me and sis awake

Do you remember
The pink wallpaper with white
fluffy happy clouds

Was a lovely room
So bright so cheerful so sweet
Back then I knew too

That the trees lose there
green leaves and than they grow back
again every spring

So hello nanny
We shall meet again one day
In pretty garden

Where the sky is pink
And white clouds come to dinner
And we both drink tea
Leisa Battaglia Aug 2018
Babies, babies everywhere
Usually it's your opinion I share
We're too old, too tired, too busy
But the babies all around me are making me dizzy

I'm rational, realistic and levelheaded
It would be enough for me if we were just wedded
Barely in our forties, but our youth in the past
But I feel that the baby window is closing fast

We each have our own and have been down this road a time or two
But they're all growing up so fast, and I've never gotten to have one with you
Robbed of that chance, I feel like we missed out on what should've been our life, our destiny
But I feel blessed for the boys we have and I will be happy if that's all that's meant to be

Babies are loud and they're too expensive
And, truthfully, I really do like the way we live
So many obstacles stand in the way
A vasectomy, decreased fertility, how to pay

It all gets so technical and sterile and void of romance
I wonder if there is even the slightest chance
All the procedures we'd need to endure
So with this decision, we both must be sure

Will we regret it and wish we had chosen a different path
I don't want to end up in the poor house for not doing the math
I'm so busy, would a surrogate be the way to go
A nanny is fine for after, but with a surrogate, can a bond grow

Then there's the smell of their hair
That special bond that only you two share
The way they hold onto you as if you hold the key to their heart
The look of total terror in their eyes whenever you must part

A small piece of me and a small piece of you
Someone we create together, something we chose to do
The one we were supposed to have years ago
The dream that neither of us quite let go

Here we are, decades later, together again
Has too much time passed, too much life been
Or was it always meant to be this way, We're older and wiser and more ready today

It may never work and I need you to know, that I'm happy with just us if that's God's plan
But if this is possible and my last chance, then I know you are the perfect man
They'll all talk about us and say we're too old and crazy
But this is how I chose to tell you, I'd like to try to have your baby
A topic of much discussion lately in my home. Since he started reading my poetry on here, I thought this may be a unique way to tell him that I would like to go on this journey with him. That is, if he's game?
Donna Mar 2018
Dear Nanny

I love to think of
you in your flowery frock
and hard lacquered hair

Do you remember
our lovely pink wallpaper
It had fluffy clouds

I shared a bunkbed
with sister , and you had your
bed in the corner

Do you remember
every year you would take mum
me sis and brother

to visit The Lord
Mayor Show up London in your
big ****** building

We would wave flags out
the window to cheer on The
Lord Mayor  driving by

I'd sit at a desk
It was huge and had lots of
dated computers

I felt all grown up
I loved the big wide carpets
And rectangle walls

Do you remember
when Simon had long blond hair
when he was little

He was such a cute
kid and loved Marvel Comics
He collected lots

His in heaven now
with you , he was taken too
early in this life

I felt your presence
when he died ,heaven let you
visit for awhile

I knew it was you
When I smelt pretty flowers
Thank you for caring

You was tea lady
Everyone loved you at work
I loved your trolley

Every morning you
would get up with the sun
And go catch your bus

You always left your
dentures on bathroom sink , i
thought they would bite me :)

Anyway I must
go now I miss you always
Take care of brother

Have fun in heaven
And when it's my turn to join
you , lets go shopping ***
Thought of.my lovely nan today her name was Rose wow she was amazing lady **

— The End —