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"reece" poems
They go together, As lovers should, And take of their love In the shade of the wood. It is not ugly, Nor is it unclean To lie in the shadow Unknown and unseen. Never a sorrow Was born of two Couched in the shadow The whole night through. If only lovers Walked in the lane No one would suffer Or sorrow again; But a step before them And a step behind Are people possessed Of a very small mind Who nod and whisper, And poison the bread Of innocent lovers Until they are dead.
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Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 1:46 AM UTC
If Only Lovers by Byron Herbert Reece
Baby blue cushion with the fabric ties, painting rocks with orange and blue on newspaper, got a glob on the wood only rain can wash away. Clean the glass out with q-tips, squeaky clean, tap remains into ceramic bowl made in 3rd grade, medium blizzard with M&Ms; and Reece's peanut butter cups, a burger at that hotdog place featured on Martha Stewart with bacon bits, colored pencils, Barbie coloring books, Jeep keeps stalling in front of my house, don't eat my burger, Ellie and Duncan, full bag of mini peanut butter cups, South Park, Heavy Metal, The King of Limbs - eh, JWoww, Cupcake Wars, the Big Dipper, aqua colored bikini with a magazine full of pictures, videotape my monologues, short hair, sundresses, Nike shorts and tank tops. Mini with a pen in parking lot in Norwalk, feet in the pool water, ants, smelly dog, big house in New Canaan, white Audi A4, drive with the Mosley Tribes from Loehman's for $75 -- a steal, scotch tape on toenails, purple, blue, and green polished stripes, church parking lot on Duck Farm
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Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
Nineteen
There isn’t much left of The Grange today, There isn’t much left at all, Only a charred left wing, I think, And the odd, still standing wall, The central Hall is a pile of ash As it was, the day I left, Sat on the back of the doc’s grey mare As the Lady Mary wept. It wasn’t supposed to end like this On the day of the wedding ball, Balloons and streamers hung from the roof As the marriage carriage called, Annette stepped out like a fairy queen In her ****** white, and lace, While Reece, the Groom, in the wedding room Had a smile on his handsome face. And I led the Lady Mary in To the mother’s pride of place, I only had eyes for her that day As she walked with a widow’s grace, It wasn’t a secret, I yearned for her But this was her daughter’s day, So I was content with the hand she lent For she squeezed, along the way. The priest stood up by a lectern as The guests all prayed and knelt, To bless their way on this wedding day I’m sure it was truly felt, But Mary’s brother-in-law was there With an evil look in his eye, He’d wanted to claim the Grange from her Since the day her husband died. ‘The Grange belonged to my family,’ He’d say, ‘and I want it back, You only married into the place When you wed my brother, Jack.’ He made an offer, but she said no, The Grange had become her home, ‘You sold your part to Jack at the start Before you went off to roam.’ But Douglas, he had an evil mind And his countenance was stern, He said if he couldn’t have The Grange Then he’d rather see it burn. He’d brought three barrels of gunpowder Unseen, but out in the yard, He chose this day to make Mary pay, We should have been on our guard. The guests were all engaged at the front When he wheeled the barrels in, It takes a mind of evil intent To imagine this kind of sin, Annette had lifted her wedding veil And raised her lips to the groom, When all hell suddenly came to play In the depths of that wedding room. The hall was full of the screams and cries Of those who lay on the floor, While I picked the Lady Mary up And carried her out to the door, It was there we saw the bride, Annette Who’d made it out to the porch, The groom was dead, but the bride had fled As her dress went up like a torch. There isn’t much left of The Grange today, There isn’t much left at all, Only a charred left wing, I think, And the odd, still standing wall. But the Lady Mary married me In the wake of all the strife, Her daughter’s gone, but our love is strong, And Douglas is serving life. David Lewis Paget
0
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 7:14 AM UTC
The End of The Grange
There isn’t much left of The Grange today, There isn’t much left at all, Only a charred left wing, I think, And the odd, still standing wall, The central Hall is a pile of ash As it was, the day I left, Sat on the back of the doc’s grey mare As the Lady Mary wept. It wasn’t supposed to end like this On the day of the wedding ball, Balloons and streamers hung from the roof As the marriage carriage called, Annette stepped out like a fairy queen In her ****** white, and lace, While Reece, the Groom, in the wedding room Had a smile on his handsome face. And I led the Lady Mary in To the mother’s pride of place, I only had eyes for her that day As she walked with a widow’s grace, It wasn’t a secret, I yearned for her But this was her daughter’s day, So I was content with the hand she lent For she squeezed, along the way. The priest stood up by a lectern as The guests all prayed and knelt, To bless their way on this wedding day I’m sure it was truly felt, But Mary’s brother-in-law was there With an evil look in his eye, He’d wanted to claim the Grange from her Since the day her husband died. ‘The Grange belonged to my family,’ He’d say, ‘and I want it back, You only married into the place When you wed my brother, Jack.’ He made an offer, but she said no, The Grange had become her home, ‘You sold your part to Jack at the start Before you went off to roam.’ But Douglas, he had an evil mind And his countenance was stern, He said if he couldn’t have The Grange Then he’d rather see it burn. He’d brought three barrels of gunpowder Unseen, but out in the yard, He chose this day to make Mary pay, We should have been on our guard. The guests were all engaged at the front When he wheeled the barrels in, It takes a mind of evil intent To imagine this kind of sin, Annette had lifted her wedding veil And raised her lips to the groom, When all hell suddenly came to play In the depths of that wedding room. The hall was full of the screams and cries Of those who lay on the floor, While I picked the Lady Mary up And carried her out to the door, It was there we saw the bride, Annette Who’d made it out to the porch, The groom was dead, but the bride had fled As her dress went up like a torch. There isn’t much left of The Grange today, There isn’t much left at all, Only a charred left wing, I think, And the odd, still standing wall. But the Lady Mary married me In the wake of all the strife, Her daughter’s gone, but our love is strong, And Douglas is serving life. David Lewis Paget
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73
Shiloh In Hebrew " place of peace" Didn't work out so For brother Johnny or Uncle Reece Nor many of Grant's Boy's in blue Though now many a man Does rest there in peace On the field at Shiloh r Jun 9
0
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC
Shiloh
Straight on a plain, miles with the blowing wind. Miles on a plane, nowhere near the mountain ranges, nowhere near the Atlantic shore, no lapping sounds - Just your gentle breathing I’m just happy you’re alive. This bulldozed land is barren, dry like my eyes like a dirt road. I’m stung on the arm by an imaginary bee, flung out the open window. This reminds me of the pleasantries we exchanged. How polite we used to be. And now your tired arm is slung over the wheel angry with me. “Can you just shut the **** up.” I’m not saying anything. Let’s pull over at the next petrol station get some Red Bull and make out like we’re American. Lick the sting. Does it taste like Pepsi? Can I be your blonde baby or your Barbie? These dust clouds are haloing the sun, as we sing out loud and off tune harmony. It’s just you and me and nowhere baby. So use me up until I’m gone. Drag on me like a cigarette and extinguish me on the lawn. --------------------------------------------------------- Nowhereland. Head ready to burst like elastic bands around a watermelon. I’ve been getting angry. Snappy again. The long drive has left me whacked, our conversation gone putrid, the air swimming with expletives. Hay bales. Green fields. Lost track of how many. Wasn’t counting anyway. Into sixth gear then. South Dakotan sun stretches into the car, over your body; I knew it well. I know it well. The milometer slides to fifty-seven thousand and the silence stings my skin like a small fresh burn so I raise my voice - your mouth is closed. I toss an empty Coke can out the window, hear it scuttle over hot grey road. Then you begin to sing, so I sing. Why? Awful. Wrong key. Don’t care. You look across, destroy me so well, the tumbling heart in a tower of cards. I know. Stop the car. Find a bar. Let’s numb ourselves together so we feel something, gorge on US TV till our eyes go red white and blue. Look what we’ve become. Just your gentle breathing. This is what alive feels like. Now give me a drag of whatever it is you’re having.
0
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
Morristown, SD (collaboration with Reece AJ Chambers)
Straight on a plain, miles with the blowing wind. Miles on a plane, nowhere near the mountain ranges, nowhere near the Atlantic shore, no lapping sounds - Just your gentle breathing I’m just happy you’re alive. This bulldozed land is barren, dry like my eyes like a dirt road. I’m stung on the arm by an imaginary bee, flung out the open window. This reminds me of the pleasantries we exchanged. How polite we used to be. And now your tired arm is slung over the wheel angry with me. “Can you just shut the **** up.” I’m not saying anything. Let’s pull over at the next petrol station get some Red Bull and make out like we’re American. Lick the sting. Does it taste like Pepsi? Can I be your blonde baby or your Barbie? These dust clouds are haloing the sun, as we sing out loud and off tune harmony. It’s just you and me and nowhere baby. So use me up until I’m gone. Drag on me like a cigarette and extinguish me on the lawn. --------------------------------------------------------- Nowhereland. Head ready to burst like elastic bands around a watermelon. I’ve been getting angry. Snappy again. The long drive has left me whacked, our conversation gone putrid, the air swimming with expletives. Hay bales. Green fields. Lost track of how many. Wasn’t counting anyway. Into sixth gear then. South Dakotan sun stretches into the car, over your body; I knew it well. I know it well. The milometer slides to fifty-seven thousand and the silence stings my skin like a small fresh burn so I raise my voice - your mouth is closed. I toss an empty Coke can out the window, hear it scuttle over hot grey road. Then you begin to sing, so I sing. Why? Awful. Wrong key. Don’t care. You look across, destroy me so well, the tumbling heart in a tower of cards. I know. Stop the car. Find a bar. Let’s numb ourselves together so we feel something, gorge on US TV till our eyes go red white and blue. Look what we’ve become. Just your gentle breathing. This is what alive feels like. Now give me a drag of whatever it is you’re having.
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64
reece i spent a few years being angry with you for stealing that first kiss and tainting a memory. i would never have wanted to describe that moment to my future children as it happened. fifteen and very drunk. you took the hope for a romantic first kiss, in a dimly lit room and flushed cheeks, and replaced it with being lustfully pushed into walls and cars and grazed knees. you left me with the stink of your aftershave on the collar of my dress and two 'love' bites on the side of my neck.   conor when i was fifteen, you were the apple of my eye. i am still sorry that i thought you were wasting time. wasting time. that's why the whole thing fell apart for me, i had those typical naive teenage dreams. if i hadn't had got so mad, i wouldn't have let him kiss me. our first kiss was cute and maybe i'll tell a white lie and describe it to my kids as mine. door step, holding hands, porch was lit. jamie you found me at the time of my life that i thought was bad. but now i see, it was simply the calm before the storm and that the worst was yet to be. i was not allowed to even bring up your name on a social networking site without a backlash of hate. maybe we crave for the forbidden, it originated from the garden of Eden but i do wonder if that apple had tasted as sweet as your kiss. i can't tell you how much i enjoyed those very few weeks with you, you helped me to realise i deserved so much better.                             now I've found it we kissed under a staircase billy oh, how i wish your name was not on my list. tom maybe I am biased because I am currently irretrievably in love with you, but our first kiss was my favourite. the very touch of your skin almost made me cry because you are just so soft and I was not used to a boy being so nice. and how strange it is, to be so happy in your presence. how strange it was, to spend the entire day in London showing you off. I could not, for the life of me, recall one single face of strangers we walked past on that day. I tried to do things properly, no kisses on the first date, but it's hard to say no when you lean in and grab my face. and during the kisses after that one, you were worried would ask my why my hands would shake and my lips would tremble and I was sorry, but sometimes things that have been smashed clatter around a little and I know it's a long shot,  but I have to ask, if our first kiss could be my very last. train station goodbyes, the best and the worst. but every kiss with you is as enchanting as the very first.
0
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 11:07 AM UTC
counting kisses on one hand
reece i spent a few years being angry with you for stealing that first kiss and tainting a memory. i would never have wanted to describe that moment to my future children as it happened. fifteen and very drunk. you took the hope for a romantic first kiss, in a dimly lit room and flushed cheeks, and replaced it with being lustfully pushed into walls and cars and grazed knees. you left me with the stink of your aftershave on the collar of my dress and two 'love' bites on the side of my neck.   conor when i was fifteen, you were the apple of my eye. i am still sorry that i thought you were wasting time. wasting time. that's why the whole thing fell apart for me, i had those typical naive teenage dreams. if i hadn't had got so mad, i wouldn't have let him kiss me. our first kiss was cute and maybe i'll tell a white lie and describe it to my kids as mine. door step, holding hands, porch was lit. jamie you found me at the time of my life that i thought was bad. but now i see, it was simply the calm before the storm and that the worst was yet to be. i was not allowed to even bring up your name on a social networking site without a backlash of hate. maybe we crave for the forbidden, it originated from the garden of Eden but i do wonder if that apple had tasted as sweet as your kiss. i can't tell you how much i enjoyed those very few weeks with you, you helped me to realise i deserved so much better.                             now I've found it we kissed under a staircase billy oh, how i wish your name was not on my list. tom maybe I am biased because I am currently irretrievably in love with you, but our first kiss was my favourite. the very touch of your skin almost made me cry because you are just so soft and I was not used to a boy being so nice. and how strange it is, to be so happy in your presence. how strange it was, to spend the entire day in London showing you off. I could not, for the life of me, recall one single face of strangers we walked past on that day. I tried to do things properly, no kisses on the first date, but it's hard to say no when you lean in and grab my face. and during the kisses after that one, you were worried would ask my why my hands would shake and my lips would tremble and I was sorry, but sometimes things that have been smashed clatter around a little and I know it's a long shot,  but I have to ask, if our first kiss could be my very last. train station goodbyes, the best and the worst. but every kiss with you is as enchanting as the very first.
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30
she used to sing around the house songs from the Hit Parade there was a little transistor radio slim, dark green with a telescoping antenna kept on the kitchen windowsill she would listen to music singing along while cooking and cleaning or going solo a Capella Rosemary Clooney, Della Reece Frank Sinatra, Andy Williams Jo Stafford Weston she told me that when ‘Daddy” was in the hospital he had his favorites Don’t You Know and You’ll Never Know he asked her to sing them again and again her singing came from a good place somewhere deep inside her a place where she could just be herself apart from life’s responsibilities far away from the roles of wife and mother to too many children leaving behind the frustrations of carrying on in poverty’s face if only for the moment it took to sing a song she would sing about pyramids and sunrises about a lady with an enigmatic smile cheating hearts and when she might fall in love and we learned all those songs  too as her hearing worsened she stopped singing as if she lost a piece of herself she’s gone now but we still have those memories a musical legacy for her talented children
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Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 4:53 PM UTC
MOTHER'S VOICE
Natalie sings an old song, wondering "which side are you on" but not really Florence Reece didn't wonder either times do certainly change
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May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 7:29 AM UTC
l' art pour l' art 0.2