"shee" poems
Did you ever hear about ******* Lil?
She lived in ******* town on ******* hill,
She had a ******* dog and a ******* cat,
They fought all night with a ******* rat.
She had ******* hair on her ******* head.
She had a ******* dress that was poppy red:
She wore a snowbird hat and sleigh-riding clothes,
On her coat she wore a crimson, ******* rose.
Big gold chariots on the Milky Way,
Snakes and elephants silver and gray.
Oh the ******* blues they make me sad,
Oh the ******* blues make me feel bad.
Lil went to a snow party one cold night,
And the way she sniffed was sure a fright.
There was Hophead Mag with ***** Slim,
Kankakee Liz and Yen Shee Jim.
There was Morphine Sue and the Poppy Face Kid,
Climbed up snow ladders and down they skid;
There was the Stepladder Kit, a good six feet,
And the Sleigh-riding Sister who were hard to beat.
Along in the morning about half past three
They were all lit up like a Christmas tree;
Lil got home and started for bed,
Took another sniff and it knocked her dead.
They laid her out in her ******* clothes:
She wore a snowbird hat with a crimson rose;
On her headstone you’ll find this refrain:
She died as she lived, sniffing *******
29.1k
The flames be flyin' hot tonight,
so the horns be heatin' up just right!
Skeep-deep-do-bop-bee-bop-do-skeetle-scat-woo-woo, hell-bop-ba-ska-da fra-la-la-la-la-la-la-foo-foo, yous,
look-see-dee-wee-boys doin' da voodoo,
look-see-dee-wee-girls playin' wid hoodoo.
Cuz, I'm a scat-man,
it's a fat fact ma'am!
Yeah, I'm a scat-man,
it's a fat fact ma'am.
And I dun gives a ****
if there's no reason to the scat-plan.
If you come across the fancy bowler hat,
dun be afraid to start stuttering the big skat:
Batta-tat-tat looksee-da-flat-uncool-rat
givin' his square-eyed-glare to-the-scat-cats ~meow~
skee-shee-flyin'-the-sillee like a banshee,
singin' sillee-skee-shee-all-fancee-free -
and we putssss on the br(e)ak(e)s
just
like thissssssss (!)
and
in h a l e ....
Go! Go! GO!
Skeep-deep-do-bop -bee- bop-do-skeetle-scat-woo-woo,
hell-bop ba-ska-da fra-la-la-la-la-la-la-foo-foo,
look-see-dee-wee-boys doin' da voodoo,
look-see-dee-wee-girls playin' wid-hoodoo.
Yeah, I'm a scat-man,
it's a fact ma'am! x2
Yeah, I'm a scat-man,
it's a fact ma'am.
Jul 31, 2012
Jul 31, 2012 at 6:35 PM UTC
I tried to capture you
In the forests of Donegal,
Your bark of hair, red, so dark,
Was smear, camouflage, and window
Into a lost Fae world made as I was sinking
Without ever knowing, falling, without fear
Years later, you have long left and I still
Breathe in a wooden box of dream.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
I tried to capture you
In the forests of Donegal,
Your bark of hair, red, so dark,
Was smear, camouflage, and window
Into a lost Fae world made as I was sinking
Without ever knowing, falling, without fear
Years later, you have long left and I still
Breathe in a wooden box of dream.
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 1:53 PM UTC
Being The Shortest Day
’Tis the yeares midnight, and it is the dayes,
Lucies, who scarce seaven houres herself unmaskes,
The Sunne is spent, and now his flasks
Send forth light squibs, no constant rayes;
The worlds whole sap is sunke:
The generall balme th’ hydroptique earth hath drunk,
Whither, as to the beds-feet, life is shrunk,
Dead and interr’d; yet all these seem to laugh,
Compar’d with mee, who am their Epitaph.
Study me then, you who shall lovers bee
At the next world, that is, at the next Spring:
For I am every dead thing,
In whom love wrought new Alchimie.
For his art did expresse
A quintessence even from nothingnesse,
From dull privations, and leane emptinesse:
He ruin’d mee, and I am re-begot
Of absence, darknesse, death—things which are not.
All others, from all things, draw all that’s good,
Life, soule, forme, spirit, whence they beeing have;
I, by loves limbecke, am the grave
Of all, that’s nothing. Oft a flood
Have wee two wept, and so
Drownd the whole world, us two; oft did we grow
To be two Chaosses, when we did show
Care to ought else; and often absences
Withdrew our soules, and made us carcasses.
But I am by her death—which word wrongs her—
Of the first nothing, the Elixer grown;
Were I a man, that I were one,
I needs must know; I should preferre,
If I were any beast,
Some ends, some means; Yea plants, yea stones detest,
And love; All, all some properties invest;
If I an ordinary nothing were,
As shadow, a light, and body must be here.
But I am None; nor will my Sunne renew.
You lovers, for whose sake, the lesser Sunne
At this time to the Goat is runne
To fetch new lust, and give it you,
Enjoy your summer all;
Since shee enjoyes her long nights festivall,
Let mee prepare towards her, and let mee call
This houre her Vigill, and her Eve, since this
Bothe the yeares, and the dayes deep midnight is.
1.8k
I feel as if I stand atop a sharp pinnacle;
Tall, dark, ragged, foreboding.
In all directions, save one;
Misery, loneliness, pain, darkness.
In that one direction, hope;
Bright, flowering, happy, blessed.
The callous winds of change start to blow.
With the keening screams of the Bean Sidhe.
Causing one’s soul to quiver and cry in its harmony.
I try my best to keep my balance,
But find I must also fight gusts of wind
Blowing out from my hope.
Coldly trying to push me over the edge,
Instead of warmly embracing me to safety.
I am trapped.
I can feel no relief.
Maybe it would be best to close my eyes;
Open my arms to the winds;
And let the Bean Sidhe do what it will.
Dan Gray
2003
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 2:51 PM UTC
**It gets deeper... wider
It's a good feeling... to know that I can confide in her
She's always been there
Even when I thought she wasn't
When I thought I'd kicked her out of my life completely
Self righteously so
But just like before... I again fell for her
That unfortunate incident, years ago... her mistake
'My' **** take
Could not be forgiving
My hard headedness, probably as a result of hard living
Feeling like I was 'gangsta'
She loved me and all my 'rasta'...
Tendencies
And I wasn't empathetic enough to accept an apology
Turned her politely away, silently insulting her with ****** street terminology
I was a *****
So we grew apart quick
But still remained friends
Though feelings between us rendered us 'strained ' friends
Until it got real
Had to accept how I feel, and forgive her
And that fondness rekindled
Into that which it was
Pause... fast forward... some dumb person posts a
Comment on facebook, afraid that I'd lost her
Scary... but it opened my eyes after so long
To realise, with 'Shee' is exactly where I belong.**
Jun 21, 2010
Jun 21, 2010 at 3:11 PM UTC
Sheol (/ˈʃiːoʊl/ SHEE-ohl, /-əl/; Hebrew: שְׁאוֹל Šəʾōl) in the Hebrew Bible, is a place of darkness to which all the dead go, both the righteous and the unrighteous, regardless of the moral choices made in life, a place of stillness and darkness cut off from life and from God.[1] The inhabitants of Sheol are the "shades" (rephaim), entities without personality or strength.
Dec 13, 2021
Dec 13, 2021 at 4:55 AM UTC
I tried to capture you
In the forests of Donegal,
Your bark of hair, red, so dark,
Was smear, camouflage, and window
Into a lost Fae world made as I was sinking
Without ever knowing, falling, without fear
Years later, you have long left and I still
Breathe in a wooden box of dream.
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 12:58 PM UTC
I tried to capture you
In the forests of Donegal,
Your bark of hair, red, so dark,
Was smear, camouflage, and window
Into a lost Fae world made as I was sinking
Without ever knowing, falling, without fear
Years later, you have long left and I still
Breathe in a wooden box of dream.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 12:21 PM UTC
Eye hav a higgoramous, shee tort me orl I knoe
Sheez a clevar Higgoramous az Higorrami goe
Shee tort me orl mi spelin and wen eye pik mi no’s
Ter wypit on der carpit knot rubbit on mi close
Sum peepul saye herz higgorrunt an saye dat shee iz fik
I ate dem orrid peepul dey reely mayk mee sik
I ope dat shee gitz pregerant an az a littel cubb
Eye’ll fead er lotz of kandie an uthar luvly grubb
Eye’ll elp er mummie baff er eye’ll chainge er durty nappie
Shee’ll bee soe qoot an cudelsum shee’l mayk mee viry appy
An wen der cubb gitz biggar shee’ll plae wiv mee an kis
An evariwun wil real eyes dat higgoramous’s iz bliss :-)
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 8:11 PM UTC
'Twas the way she said,
...be sure to call me, don't forget...
then turned off her phone,
3 days net
I cast her a line
will she bite or let free?
readily lost from mind
the bait was me!
Oh mused from her loving
her plaything, her joy.
I spat out love poemz
Less haste did annoy
Lifted kindred spirit,
no more wobe-gone for me
was but a lie from a Strom
too blinded to sea
"You and I are going to have
a great love affair."
Should have been warning
Foundeld on note in sunlight morning
I asked the project wood
It for-told me, "Why Bother?"
Alone in my room, to ration or despair
Ignore nature's warning,
'tis up to me, I declare.
Sealed my fate...
I'm strong, been here before,
I'm ready for this...this...this time winning!
FOOL
Her's unslaved, mine unscathed
night,
was just the begining!
Oh the joys,
Such sweetness up to the edge,
but not quite *****
As promised her lore
THE everything abash
Irie romming back,
gonna get IT,
this time?
Maybe mohr
The musing doest stop,
genuine dost frey,
Lovings subside
Betrayl dost pay
"It will melt your mind"
Were the last words I herd
all in due time
her torture, my absurd
Communicate?
Communicate she says?
Why were not those words
so heards
Whence whining and pining decays?
Hypocrispy so blatant
it must be ignored,
and the melt of the mind
gets restored
For it was up to me
All along on this journey
The most painful part
Is I always did see
This dance with the devil
The game of fairie,
My loves lorn lost
To the leanhaun shee
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
Midsummer-Eve: the Flight of the Faeries
by Michael R. Burch
What happened to the mysterious Tuatha De Danann, to the Ban Shee (from which we get the term “banshee”) and, eventually, to the druids? One might assume that with the passing of Merlyn, Morgause and their ilk, the time of myths and magic ended. This poem is an epitaph of sorts.
In the ruins
of the dreams
and the schemes
of men;
when the moon
begets the tide
and the wide
sea sighs;
when a star
appears in heaven
and the raven
cries;
we will dance
and we will revel
in the devil’s
fen . . .
if nevermore again.
Keywords/Tags: Druids, Banshee, Picts, Scots, Scottish, fairies, glade, raven, gull, King Arthur, Arthurian, Morgause, Merlin, round table, knights, England, stone, Excalibur, chivalry, Camelot, Uther Pendragon, Colgrim, Saxon
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 10:09 PM UTC
As it fell out on a long summer's day,
Two lovers they sat on a hill;
They sat together that long summer's day,
And could not talk their fill.
"I see no harm by you, Margarèt,
And you see none by mee;
Before to-morrow at eight o' the clock
A rich wedding you shall see."
Fair Margaret sat in her bower-windòw,
Combing her yellow hair;
There she spyed sweet William and his bride,
As they were a riding near.
Then down she layd her ivory combe,
And braided her hair in twain:
She went alive out of her bower,
But ne'er came alive in't again.
When day was gone, and night was come,
And all men fast asleep,
Then came the spirit of Fair Marg'ret,
And stood at William's feet.
"Are you awake, sweet William?" shee said,
"Or, sweet William, are you asleep?
God give you joy of your gay bride-bed,
And me of my winding sheet."
When day was come, and night was gone,
And all men wak'd from sleep,
Sweet William to his lady sayd,
"My dear, I have cause to weep.
"I dreamt a dream, my dear ladyè,
Such dreames are never good:
I dreamt my bower was full of red 'wine,'
And my bride-bed full of blood."
"Such dreams, such dreams, my honoured sir,
They never do prove good;
To dream thy bower was full of red 'wine,'
And thy bride-bed full of blood."
He called up his merry men all,
By one, by two, and by three;
Saying, "I'll away to fair Marg'ret's bower,
By the leave of my ladiè."
And when he came to fair Marg'ret's bower,
He knocked at the ring;
And who so ready as her seven brethrèn
To let sweet William in.
Then he turned up the covering-sheet;
"Pray let me see the dead;
Methinks she looks all pale and wan.
She hath lost her cherry red.
"I'll do more for thee, Margarèt,
Than any of thy kin:
For I will kiss thy pale wan lips,
Though a smile I cannot win."
With that bespake the seven brethrèn,
Making most piteous mone,
"You may go kiss your jolly brown bride,
And let our sister alone."
"If I do kiss my jolly brown bride,
I do but what is right;
I ne'er made a vow to yonder poor corpse,
By day, nor yet by night.
"Deal on, deal on, my merry men all,
Deal on your cake and your wine:
For whatever is dealt at her funeral to-day,
Shall be dealt to-morrow at mine."
Fair Margaret dyed to-day, to-day,
Sweet William dyed the morrow:
Fair Margaret dyed for pure true love,
Sweet William dyed for sorrow.
Margaret was buryed in the lower chancèl,
And William in the higher:
Out of her brest there sprang a rose,
And out of his a briar.
They grew till they grew unto the church top,
And then they could grow no higher;
And there they tyed in a true lover's knot,
Which made all the people admire.
Then came the clerk of the parish,
As you the truth shall hear,
And by misfortune cut them down,
Or they had now been there.
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 10:16 AM UTC
I never knew the ugliness of pain,
I never felt the pinch of a hole in my heart
I never knew the emptiness of life...Till you left my life.
If I would, a break up would be easy, because I would know that somehow, you moved on the phase of earth,
Somehow, I would find an excuse to drop you a "wrong text"
Somehow, I would find myself at your door, and convince you "I was in the neighbor hood" so decided to come say hello.
But the miles between me and you now is infinite...
The hollow and gap in my soul is deep than the pits of hell.
I'd have sworn four years with you would multiply to 8, then 16 then 24...
Time stole you away too soon.
As I watch my shadow upon your grave, in this sunset, my tears flow..
Just as fresh as when I received that call from your doctor that you wanted to see me.
Then slowly I walked by your bedside, but you NEVER said a word, just a smile on your face with your black eyes shut.
Then the words that pierced my soul as never before "Shee, has left Us"...
sigh...
I hate it when people leave!!..
It scares me when someone leaves.
You knew that, but you still left.
With that note by your side, that I am your forever.
That You had honored your promise and stayed with me to death.
As I write this, I cry...I sob like a little girl...just like the first time.
But since you gone, just remember, we only not in the physical...
but my heart, shall never forget you...
My first...My true.
I MISS YOU.
I DO.
Your Forever
©The Unspoken
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
the trickks has 2 pass fromm mi to herr shee has 2 knoww mi andd things better than me and everything there is out here andd beyond
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 4:26 AM UTC
we're going on a trip
in our favorite rocket ship
I hope a sheep wool not drip
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 5:12 AM UTC
the trickks has 2 pass fromm mi to herr shee has 2 knoww mi andd things better than me and everything there is out here andd beyond
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 1:00 AM UTC
One two three
Awake and see
One two three
Dream and let it be
One two three
Return to sleep, deep within the shee.
These are the stages
For ripening the sages
One two three
And your will is set free
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 10:08 AM UTC
encoding sounds with the 26, will never be exact, nor worth deciphering if previously unheard, but it will be more than what western society currently offers with a passive gesture of thinking itself lacking criticism or thereby critical attachment shoving it elsewhere, this grand democratic export: think oneself utopian by shoving one's fakes into other places and return back to oneself to digest a regurgitation.
shree nal sta-ug nah-nug
keelm-neem nadul
am me kuz dool bagul
undumi shee bagū.
nine, for mortal men, to whom to die.
doo nikt kań narkań,
hoo me ni shoo... ah sheel,
borozoomish shi?
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 8:41 PM UTC
the focal point of integrating into
english society
is learning how to have comic
value via sarcasm...
bananas are gay!
what?!
they're bent!
show me a straight banana...
i don't mind abnomartalities
in other fruits or veg...
sure, cucumbers are straight,
and gherkins are bent,
sickle, communist, islamic,
crescent moon...
wait, wait wait a minute,
i thought you asked me to incorporate
into your culture?
don't get the joke all of a sudden?
can't be english then, even
if you're english...
oh right, not enough *** / whiskey
running in your bloodstream...
go into the toilet and puke some kebab bits
out... i'm going to have another
shot with this cossack friend of time...
shore ahoy! "tipsy" sailor!
in the gutter of a ****** or kissing
the ropes with a ****** loverboy...
**** the planks float, shit's fine with me,
just don't you try to get it in my face,
i'm cool with it coming near my shoes...
but that's the limit, matey.
once again,
show me a straight banana,
and i'll show you pear curvatures in
an apple,
and a mohican on a pineapple's tip
that's frizzy-afro hedgehog punk.
******* bonkers ********
you'd get more febreeze cool
shouting: torro! torro!
at nothing more than your own shadow
impressed against a brick wall.
- yo! brin'g'ah m'eh a'h boo'ket 'oath a'h
tick-tack-toes!
- huh?
- t'oh-m'ah-twos!
- tomatoes.
- y'ah tum-tums.
- yeah, because a bunch of tomatoe throwing
spanish freaks will **** that bull,
when the toredor's blades didn't.
- mon!
- wha'?
- shee won' b' e noo'veil...
- **** me, i wasn't into hemingway anyway,
the guy fish merlins off the coast
of cuba, for all i care;
i'd too take to a death in the afternoon,
his finest "book",
a shot of absinthe in a flute of champagne;
i swear i almost mentioned veal.
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 6:17 PM UTC
At least,
She knows how the end will be
At least,
She has more time to heal, more time to build walls on her heart when the end comes
At least,
Someday, shee will stop being the victim and start to be the main role of her own story
At least,
There will be no screams and the sound of slamming door
At least,
It just gonna be another sad memories
At least,
It just gonna be another trauma that she has to live with
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 6:10 AM UTC
I look to the women who smell of gardenia,
whose lips have been kissed by roses.
How they sway so gracefully,
giving life to everything they touch.
One cannot help but to be enamored by their beauty.
Each word from their mouth feels like honey to the ears.
So gentle is their touch, a caress that draws you near.
But every time I touch a flower, it soon withers and dies.
I try and emanate their loving touch, but claw marks are left, and everything around me turns to dust.
I pray to the moon, hoping she might teach me these secrets of the feminine,
yet I seem to lack this untold beauty that they hold.
I am wild and rash, too loud and brash.
Banshees and Wolves are the feminine in me,
but yet I long for the beauty that is gentle and clean.
Sep 25, 2024
Sep 25, 2024 at 3:21 PM UTC
She doesn’t care if your heart is broken
Shee doesn’t care if it feels like every bone in your body breaks
With every move you make
She doesn’t know you’re gone
While all I do is notice
She will not cry about you being gone
But all you can do is choke back the tears
Shaking some sense into yourself
In hopes you won’t you won’t fall apart in the night
Why do I always make the same mistakes?
Trusting people who will hurt me in the same way
Over and over again
They've cause my heart so much pain
A pain you carry with you
Throughout everyday
It stalks you like a demon
Demanding to be heard
No, Declaring it will be heard
So you take a deep breath and look up into the sky, slowly closing your eyes trying to build your walls
In an attempt to shut everything out
So you can focus on not missing
The people who didn't break you
The people who are still there
But in your Castle
The only things that can find you
Are the demons
Apr 13, 2019
Apr 13, 2019 at 12:41 PM UTC