"raggedy" poems
Your kind of love cripples me
I am weak,
I am sad,
I feel hopeless
You make me feel like raggedy Ann
Red braids and strips stocking
Cherry lips with white and blue smocking
A fabulous smile with twinkly eyes
I am flawless today
However, tomorrow I will be worthless
I am emotionally abuse
By the master of deception
Mr. Lover
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 7:24 PM UTC
To me patience looks like this...
It is this huge man will a long black overcoat with pockets
with shiny glasses and Grey eyes
and a face that is aged
and a smile that looks between a frown and a smirk
and a wooden smoke pipe in his mouth
with raggedy bag rip jeans
and black boots
He sits on this wooden chair
and is near a large tree
and he lights his smoke pipe
put one arm on top of one thigh
leans over and stares with you with those ancient, deep eyes
and says in a deep tone..
“go head, speak I'm waiting”
but then this will also describe what understanding looks like
So then they are both the same?....
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 7:19 PM UTC
I got a rainforest full of tears
without you
Thought that after all these years
I'd have you
But you found out I was dumb
dudn't matter how I'm hung
I got a rainforest full of tears
without you
Ashley, Ashley all fall down
ring around the rosey
The whole **** world just brings me down
I got a rainforest full of tears
Open wide and 'wirl around
I love my midnight floozie
I hope you're here-You're not around
I got a rainforest full of tears
Kung fu Raggedy Andy war/s
got sent back to China
Salmonella on his brain
I got a rainforest full of tears
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 9:48 AM UTC
To the man who made me who I am
Being with you was like learning without a textbook
I just watched and copied and made it my own
From gardening to maths
You made me my own genius
I didn't have to speak for you to know what was wrong
You didn't judge me for the silly things I said
Or how I never learnt at school
You taught me to teach my self
You were my Mr Miyagi
With less riddles more jokes
I learnt that laughter can flood rooms like tidal waves
And we were leaves to float in it
And now you're gone I wont mourn
You would tell me to stop crying and cut my hair
I will use laughter to put a smile on raggedy dolls
And the stories to keep the dark days down
Thank you for being the Godfather of giggles
Making Sunday dinners not the day to fear Mondays
Having gardening not be a chore but a way to think
Rest well Granddad.
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
Serendipity.
You ******* what!
What you saying, pal?
Serendipity, oh aye, all right,
Aye, seren-fuckin-dipity; whatever!
Tell it to the raggedy soaked-wino,
Look into his rheumy eyes, really look,
Want to kiss his toothless grin, eh? Do you?
Feel his sore-ridden tongue searching you out,
Nay, I thought not, anyway, he hears nothing,
Nothing except the rattle of change.
Tell it to the punctured ****** go on,
Cold body on a cold linoleum floor,
He can’t hear you either, maybe though,
Maybe, slipping away on the last tide of life,
Do-gooder, maybe he will hear you call,
‘Serendipity’ and wonder: what the ****
Until blackness closes in, blanking the stars.
Tell it to the Fourth Bridge jumpers, go on,
Always falling; to them, falling forever,
In hearts and minds, the event horizon of death,
Trapped in limbo, leaving unbearable hurt behind,
Along with serendipity and bad choices.
And the young, oh they need serendipity,
Cruelty of life glittering in furtive wary eyes,
Old already, far beyond halcyon blue-skies,
Used and abused by those closest, the shame,
Erosion of trust and sincerity completed over night,
Christmas ghosts: slovenly laggards by comparison.
Resilient youth! Yep, they ******* need to be,
Grinding machine of town-life hunting them,
Scouring dark corners, gnashing jaws growling,
Crunching down darkened alleys, feeding,
Lapping up the young blood of runaways,
Slavering maw eating them alive; laughing.
With serendipity, they can lie low, maybe hide,
Dream of escape, for they all want out,
Putting misery behind them, quelling cruelty,
After all, they live in a lucky ******* town,
So escape is not impossible, no,
Unlikely, yes, poor wee ********
Serendipity should shout a loud warning,
Run, scrawny urchins, run if you can,
Run for your lives, the rest of your lives,
Town-life’s grinding machine awaits,
Watches for you, so keep running,
Never stop, never look back,
Not ever, not ever,
Serendipity.
©Paul Chafer 2014
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 7:32 PM UTC
an all purpose cleaner response to the
how-ya-doing-question,
as my vibe unmistakable;
the hatred in the world directed at
MY PEOPLE,
is inexplicable, beyond reason,
a hatred raw and pure in the
tiny places we humans hide it, lest
our ancient linkage to an unreasoned,
embarrassing emotion, be revealed
but now revealed it is reveled,
as the freedom to despise is a
valued thing
is an ancient scar, now freshly wounded
and the two thousand year old accumulated, callused,
surrounding wafer thin, layered upon layer of
tissue,
wiped away
in utter disbelief
cleansed,
a different kind of impure clean,
“like” an ethnic cleansing,
traceless, whisked away in a wink of moment,
a goner.
like hope, prior sentient optimism
sentenced to life imprisonment and
this sentence, and this very sentence!
written finally understanding that it is
a punishment
far worse than the quick relief of death.
c’mon, how about a few “fukk you jew”
cri de coeur, heartfelt, genuine, pointless
hate
no, not I, no, not me,
spare me the pithy comments,
the pointless sympathy, glistening
like evaporating water droplets
before disappearing, I ask myself,
not
why they hate, why it persists,
for this I understand and accept
the foulness of what we are capable of is,
beloved,
as a secret pleasure, now secreted in torrents.
no, I ask myself,
why do I write poetry,
for it is as pointless as
the hatred directed at me,
from birth, till death,
and ever after,
the humanity of poetry
just another fraud
another reason
why this man cries in the bathroom,^
not from any shape of shame,
because poetry is pointless
in times of hatred, and now we
know, recognize, it is always
somewhere, nearby, always
present and prescient,
pointless hatred,
itching to be pointed at me,
makes for
pointless poetry.
To whom shall I point my poetry?
Nov 12, 2023
Nov 12, 2023 at 2:08 AM UTC
a future promise
a hard on like bundled gym socks
in stuffed blue jeans
a future threat
a shriveled phallus wrinkled obsolete
she remembered fondly
being beaten drum chatter
and seized like slow roasted
fall off the bone pulled pork
****** raggedy Ann
catapulted beyond Euboean heavens
ravaging scrotums Gordian ******
with her wild fiendish mouth
drinking a river of
haloed golden showers
spit and ****
in a runaway hot house of glistening pink
buttery spires
engorging her macerated orifices
half eaten radish
chocking on hordes
of big do do *****
a ****** face; cross eyed
Babylon abalone
bashed Ashly mashed
begging for
a face full of swinging *****
like caped chandeliers
trotting faint giggles
in a constellation
of ruptured arteries
and thick sparked ****
on her knees
milk glitter faced
scared with happiness
she counted one smiling bruise at a time
her badge of calamities
black and blue silhouettes
grinning invitations like party favors
without a crease of shame
her skin rapturous
spackled patchworks
bled like torrential fountains summer tide
while every body had fizzy red ice phlebotomies
and steamed through her drooling tumble pie
lust ***** totem
house of winding labyrinths
honey pumped transfusion
flush on blush
opera of tangled limbs
red pulse wedding flowers
slick ***** palace
blood tongued orchard
caressing knotted mooned
**** spill
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 2:22 PM UTC
You are quite a gifted surgeon.
In fact you cut me so clean and sharp
I barely even knew it at the time.
Waking the next day in my hospital bed
was where I met my pain.
Being with you was like anesthesia:
I was so grateful for you to help me.
You were the one who weakened me.
My senses failed: your scalpel cut
clean to the core, and then I just let you
sew me back together. The nurses say
I am very lucky, that I had a good doctor.
I know better. I was once a person and
now I am Sally Stitches, or better yet, Raggedy Ann.
I am no one's operation game.
Letting you in brings only stitches and needles,
and it was I who checked myself in.
I need to learn to stitch myself at home.
Consider this my checking out.
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 5:59 PM UTC
you are just girl enough,
to be a real man...
so stand by me,
be a, be my man-girl,
shave that leathery face,
close and tight,
so I can kiss it smooth,
in front of everybody.
Go off to war, Cyrano,
write me love letters of
incredible tenderness,
poems as yet undreamt
come to me raggedy-man whole,
just enough girl in my man,
to make us both,
deliriously,
weep publicly.
Go ahead man,
write your beloved,
songs of the wars that worry you so,
that you don't show,
you think, I don't know,
but I am tough man tough enough,
plenty~enough,
to be yours,
not just the
woman, but that woman,
your beloved.
that bulge in your rear pocket,
not your wallet,
it's just some pocket tissues
you've been saving
for our reunion.
if you are afraid,
be not, be relieved,
you are just
girl enough,
to be a real man,
and I,
*well, I am tough man tough enough,
plenty~enough,
to be yours,
not just the woman,
but that woman,
your beloved*
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
A raggedy old doll,
all ***** and dusty,
lying on the floor of old cabin.
When snuggled at night,
he sat up and sang,
a verse of the spellbook
of Sabians!
“Golden-haired the raven!”
“My heart warmed of her presence,”
“Golden-haired the raven!”
“Her flowering scents so pleasant,”
“Golden-haired the raven!”
“My mind about a treasure,”
“Golden-haired the raven!”
“My fortune is her pleasure,”
“Golden-haired the raven!”
“Lost I am you see?”
“Golden-haired the raven!”
“Sun-ray crowned was she!”
“Golden-haired the raven!”
“Oh golden haired my raven!”
Just before dawn,
he sat up in bed,
to look upon his
new little girl.
Shined-up his button eyes,
and tilted his head…
then snuggled back into her curls.
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 1:39 PM UTC
There once was a man with a bowtie
And a little redhead girl
I'm gonna tell you the truth now
She loved him and he loved her.
They sat around the table
With fish fingers and custard, ice cream
They talked about his big blue box
And her family
In the middle of their midnight snack
An alarm rang from TARDIS, blue
He told her he would be back
In just a minute, or two
He accidentally missed his mark
Twelve years had gone by
But he just sauntered out
Waving and saying "Amelia, hi!"
Twas the first time they saved the world
When Amelia was just nineteen
Two years later he picked her up
On the eve of her wedding
But then the cracks in the universe
And all of space and time
Consumed the Doctor, all of him
But that's not the ending rhyme
The night she and Rory wed
Amy jumped out of her chair
"I remember you!" She shouted
And the Doctor appeared there
And so the Raggedy man came back
No more in the crack in the wall
Amy's imaginary friend
Bowtie, suspenders, and all
Later came an astronaut
Her name was River Song
She lifted her hand and against her will
Killed the Doctor, gone.
But, hooray!
The Doctor wasn't dead
It was wibbly wobbly, timey wimey
Stuff messing with their heads
And Amy had a daughter
Name? Melody Pond.
But the only water in the forest is rivers,
So she was really River Song.
Subtract love,
Add hate
Daleks scream
Exterminate!
Angels, Angels everywhere
Take a little blink
In the ground and in the air
And then they took Rory
"Come along Pond, please!"
He said with a cry
She turned to him and said
"Raggedy man, goodbye!"
"No!" He shouts in despair
"It can't be true!"
He stands over their grave
Oh Ponds, he loved you
He sits on the steps
Letting River fly
Too grief stricken to hurt
Or even to cry
Dreams are broken
Time stands still
The Doctor runs up
A small rocky hill
Afterword, it reads
By Amelia Pond
We love you Doctor
And we're sorry we're gone
There's a girl waiting in a garden
She'll be waiting for a while
So go to her
She needs a smile.
Tell her she's a fairytale
Known by many, loved by more
Not best in the universe,
But most important in the world.
She went with him and took his hand
He showed her the stars and distant lands
Together they ran, their spirits high
Until they day came when they said goodbye
Goodbye, Ponds.
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 3:35 PM UTC
After the fireworks faded away,
And the lights in people's houses went out,
The streetlamp gazed on.
In your raggedy clothes or your fine hall,
Beware! The streetlamp sees all.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 9:42 PM UTC
Your kind of love cripples me
I am weak,
I am sad,
I feel hopeless
You turned my life into a contest
Two for the price of one, plus a dollar:
You make me feel like raggedy Ann
Red braids and strips stocking
Cherry lips with white and blue smocking
A fabulous smile with twinkly eyes
am I the next Ms. Amy Winehouse?
I have let my mind become one with my thoughts
like an overpower incoming tide,
I am dying on the inside
I am flawless today
Eventually, tomorrow I will feel worthless
I am emotional abuse by
the master of deception and that’s you
I was your candy, yet you withdraw the cane
Leaving the flavor all sticky- icky
My long distant Lover
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 6:07 AM UTC
The red eyes
And snot stained
Sleeves
The shudders of
Emotional agony
The cement stones
Standing in rows
The tears of strangers
Without homes
The raggedy man
With years of grey growth
Holding a sign
So you know
That he needs help
The elderly man
Spotted skin
Wrinkling
While people
Keep forgetting him
The climate changed
Species displaced
And people running away
To find a safe place
Me, begging you to see
The suffering of humanity
While you just ignore me
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 5:47 PM UTC
Your toothbrush still has the paste on it
The plate shattered in fragments of you
The glass still has your lip stain on
This bed I'm sleeping in still smells of you
Lying to myself that you'll comeback
Leaving him and crying and knocking on the door begging to come in
But hey, who am I kidding..
*Put the car in reverse as you slipped into neutral
A gear must've rusted; I trust the machine busted
because things became mechanical, to be truthful
Major malfunction--our junction ceased to be lusted
by my soul's circuits and tired wires proved to be liars
I thought I knew what I wanted, but I was wrong
My cogs, guts and screws became loose in the mire
of our muddled love, where I did no belong*
What worth is living when everything ran rampant silhouettes of you
Running through these polaroids on the wall
I did get out, but it's you everywhere I go
You have etched this fire in my heart
When it burns when we're in love
And when it burns my soul
To ashes remnants of you
Trying my best to get out
I knew you were trouble from the start
But my heart's like a glass thirsts for that lust
Now broken brittled into pieces
Fragments no longer could be fitted
*Puzzle pieces and Polaroids for the incinerator
A conflagration consuming our condition
where you fail to see what I fail to do
I may be coldly pieced together, but I'm no traitor*
***My love was just another raggedy rendition,
But your eyes are the demons haunting you***
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 11:54 AM UTC
I love you more than I love my Momma
And quite a lot more than Republicans love Obama
I love you more than Miley loves twerking
And probably as much as teenage boys love jerking.
I love you more than hipsters love instagram
and about the same as the turn of the century loved the telegram.
I love you more than Hans loved Anna
and just as much as monkeys love bananas
I love you more than the asdaf kid likes trains
and most likely more than Anastasia liked pain.
I love you more than pandas love extinction
and probably less than pansexuality needs distinction.
I love you more than John loved his best man
and I ship us more than any fandom can.
I love you more than beliebers love Justin
and definitely more than **** maids love dustin'
I love thee more than Shakespeare loved tragedy
and the same amount as Ann is raggedy.
I love you more than Peeta loves Katniss
and almost more than cats love catnip.
I love you more than teachers love cheaters
but probably not as much as Jesus loved Easter.
I love you to the moon and back
and there is nothing that you do lack.
<3
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 9:20 PM UTC
People like you and me have grown used to dancing along,
To the raggedy tune of someone else's song.
We are able to dance, and smile, and duck, and roll, and weave,
While still clinging tightly to the things that we believe.
Sometimes we are led to believe we will lose it all; our heart, our soul, our very name,
Afraid they'll take away the us-ness of us; but still we play their game.
I wonder how many others know how to fake their hand?
Who keep the love caged up inside, to appear "normal" and bland?
Perhaps it is just us, perhaps just you, or, again, perhaps just me,
Or perhaps each individual just sees what they want to see.
Perhaps.
Perhaps...
Or perhaps, but...
I had a vision once; all the bad thoughts in the world were mine;
I ****** them in from everyone else, so that all the world felt fine,
And while all other folk were safe at rest, I cried and cried and cried,
And toddled down some empty street, slumped down a wall, and died,
Taking with me all the evil thoughts- the hate, the pain, the strife;
I believe it was the happiest I'd felt in all my life.
I tell you that to tell you this; all people's pain is pain to me,
And I would gladly give you happiness, in exchange for misery.
Don't keep those thoughts locked up inside, and hoard them for your own,
Or both you and I will surely die depressed- afraid- alone.
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 6:56 AM UTC
This is Anna
Anna has a dolly
A raggedy little thing
Her name is Miss Molly
Anna loves Miss Molly
She had her since she was three
Miss Molly loves Anna
They are as close as can be
Sometimes Anna is happy
Which makes Miss Molly happy
Sometimes Anna is sad
Which makes Miss Molly sad
Sometimes Anna had to leave
Which makes Miss Molly angry
And when Miss Molly is angry
Anna is scared
But that's okay
Because Miss Molly always says she's sorry
And Anna forgives her
Because friends accept apology
One day, Anna had to go on a 'trip'
Miss Molly wanted to come
“No, sweetie, Miss Molly can't go
This is your first day of school,” said her mum
So Anna left
And Miss Molly grew angry
She grew so mad
Her smiley face turned ugly
When Anna came back home
And went to her dolly in her room
Miss Molly started shouting at her
Her face full of anger and gloom
“Why did you leave me?” she yelled,
“I thought we were best friends!”
“We are,” Anna cried back,
“But you have to wait until school ends.”
Miss Molly grew quiet
Her face blank on her raggedy head
A few minutes passed
And she finally said
“Stay with me, Anna,
Forever and ever.
We will never be apart
Whenever and wherever.”
Anna looked at Miss Molly
Into her dolly's button eyes
And finally said, “Okay.
No more saying goodbyes.”
In the closet on a little girl's room
In a box full of forgotten toys
Lay two little dollies
Smiling in the silent noise.
The End
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 9:21 PM UTC
hearing Shakespeare,
my-own-voice
crack'd, stilted,
stuttered-shut by the
mocking silence of still
waters on the brain
poverty exposed,
raggedy verbiage for a
raggedy man's
frayed fringed garments
ashamed of
every word I ever wrote,
not even ten survivors,
not enough to pray collectively
for muse~forgivement
****
hush me not,
no chairs turned,
the public has not texted,
new tattoo:
write on for audience of one
a necessity, a life sentence
a single topic, a subject,
a life, mine,
still unmastered,
decades of trying
poverty exposed, unmasked
for what it is worth,
or what it is not
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 4:05 PM UTC
I'm just a Raggedy Ann doll in a Barbie doll world
And sadly I'm starting to become unfurled
Into this wounded life I was hurled
And the lines are becoming blurred
It's all becoming so very much twirled
And this mind of mine is so very much swirled
So in the corner you'll find me curled
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 11:14 PM UTC
I know you've got a heart of gold and emotions that run along your sleeves
but lately,
you're better with a bottle and some scrapped knees.
You're introverted
A minuet ******
But it's not the the skin you bare
Or the the way you touch
It's the way you've given up
You grew into the buildings
And buried yourself inside
between a mattress and ***** sheets
They won't save you
No, my beautiful raggedy Anne
No, they'll turn that heart of gold to stone
They'll paint your face with prophecies-
Little indecencies
You'll be ripped from some ***** banks magazine
A pin up doll
Such a perfectly decayed dream
I want to cut the string that holds you up
Hit the ground running-
Remove your mind from others hands and
Fight
Let bad blood filter into the streets and watch the acquainted burn into the night
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 11:59 PM UTC
people never care
but always say they do
everyone thinks about themselves
their priorities racked up on shelves
I'm on the ground
sounds echoing around my lifeless figure
like poor raggedy ann
i cannot stand
i'm motionless and lie there
robotic expression, stitched smile that's fixed
but my emotions are mixed
their erosion eluding to my mind's disintegration
the segregation between mind and body
so pronounced.
thoughts constantly bounce about
while i lay helpless without direction
intermittent reflection
due to others deception
i wish i could perform inception
plant ideas in their heads
setting the seed, of not greed but the idea of needing ME;
it sets me free.
raggedy ann's legs seem to gain strength
she stands on command
and finally sees the only thing she needs
is the courage in herself to keep her up right
the insecurities and disappointments shut tight inside raggedy anndora's box
not to be opened
she stands tall even on the floor
takes a step ready to unfurl
what's yet to be discovered and take on the world.
Jan 20, 2012
Jan 20, 2012 at 12:54 AM UTC
'Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse
Little Amelia Pond asleep in her bed, with thoughts of a raggedy doctor
floating through her head.
Outside her window, there came a bright light,
'twas a light so bright that it lit up the night
And the sound of the TARDIS woke her up with a jolt
and with an excited smile she heard the thing halt
She ran through the house, past the mouse, past the tree
and she saw her old friend and greeted him with glee.
He was happy to see her, but there was sadness in his heart.
He brought her rare gifts, like VanGogh art.
They ate fishsticks and custard as the doctor told of tales never heard.
As the night went on the fun wore out little miss pond
The doctor tucked her into bed and told her more stories that danced through her head.
'Twas the morning of christmas
and the best gift of all
was the night full of memories and for years she recalled
her raggedy doctor until they met once more
But thats a story for another time, and then I shall write more.
Have a merry Christmas and a Happy Holiday
From The Doctor And Amy
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC
She Sleeps
in a bed
of second hand
dreams.
surrounded by
raggedy Anne
romances
of no
depth or
consequence.
she is
a poem with
no ending
clouds with
no sky.
she sits
waiting for
heaven or hell
to finally
be done
with her.
maybe
someday
love will
give it
back.
the
key.
to the
place she
locks
all of her
secrets,
and hides
all of
her heart.
but not
now,
her broken
heart stands
alone,
the reaper.
watching,
while she
sits still
offering
only gentle
whispers.
of lonely
one way
conversations,
with empty
bottles
of wine
tonight.
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 8:50 AM UTC