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Thia Jones Mar 2014
Gorse burnt
bird skeleton
laying beneath
stark, white, crumbly
just calcium
a proto-fossil
that lacks the hardness
derived from
aeons encased
in mud
becoming stone
but this one
will never be
its future is dust
mingled with sand

Close by lies
a golf ball
a wayward one
that strayed
from links
to dune
to deform
in the blaze
become blackend
and split
the skin peeled back
opened to reveal
the tight-wound
elastic strands
fused together
yet penetrable
with persistent
small fingers
and unravelled
in exploration
to be left
in an untidy
forgotten pile
once the sac
at the core
is retrieved
within which
thick white paint
to sqeeze forth
and daub
on wall or fence
or kerbstone

This was the day after
fire had torn
through a thicket of gorse
that I and one or two
others had found ablaze
burning red and yellow and orange
hissing and spitting in protest
radiating heat in aromatic miasma
impressing all senses together
and knowing our civic duty
had run breathless
two streets inland
to fire red telephone box
to dial three nines
and deliver the news and wait
for fire red fire engine
to thunder by with shrilling bell
then to follow on, running back
to observe and to claim
with pride our part
in the resolution of danger
only to face accusation
that we must be responsible
for starting the conflagration
our shock and earnest denials
not entirely convincing
even when we protested that
had we been the culprits
then reporting the matter
would be the last consideration
instead, we were told
we'd clearly done the deed
so we could call out the brigade
and though nothing in the end
came of it, I was left convinced
that adult thought patterns
left much to be desired
and were far too convoluted
too suspicious, too impenetrable
to be ever worth adopting

That episode taught me
the magnificence of gorse ablaze
that discoveries were to be
made in the aftermath
that doing the right thing
wasn't always to be advised
that overly suspicious
too officious firemen
were fishing for payback
that if I were to be judged
guilty of the offence
when I was innocent of it
then I had a credit awaiting
in the bank of misdemeanor
so in due course
I made my withdrawal
and lit the gorse
in assembly at school
we were told we should
not hide our light
under a bushel
but I, not knowing
what a bushel was
lit mine under a bush
I did it only once
and though I had a brief
flirtation with Fraid
Her power scared me too much
no great damage was done
no human life lost
or placed in danger
save possibly mine

Cynthia Pauline Jones, 19/10/13
Fraid (the 'F' is pronounced 'V') is the Welsh name for the Celtic Goddess perhaps better known by Her Irish name Brigid. Amongst other attributes, She is Goddess of fire.
Judypatooote May 2014
Growing up way back
when life was simple.
There were wringer wash machines.
On Monday morning I remember my mom
fill the wash machine with hot water.
Add soap powder, but watch or it will clump.
Then she added fels naptha soap
Which was a bar, and you sliced off
pieces for the extra ***** clothes.

SIMPLE?

Now she added the clothes
While they are agitating
You wait...
You have a second tub filled with hot water.
to transfer those clothes into, for rinsing.
You always used the same water over.
You started with white clothes,
then eventually by the time the
dark clothes  came around
the water looked pretty gross..

SIMPLE?

After rinsing you use that magical wringer.
Which is two rollers that sqeeze all the water out.
Time...it all takes time..
Then into the wash basket.

Laundry back when life was simple...

By then your basket if full of wet heavy clothes.
Out to the clothes line.
But first you had to run a dry cloth to wipe
the dirt off the clothes line.
Hanging up all that laundry
with those cute wooden clothes pins.
Not even clip ones were invented back then.
But the bag which held all the clothes pins
was real cute, it looked like a dress...

SIMPLE?

Socks, ******, shirts, slacks, towels,
oh those heavy towels
and my favorite the sheets.
Time, it takes time to dry those clothes.

Laundry back when life was simple.

Back then everything was ironed.
Starched and there was no spray starch,
or steam iron.
Mom would dip the collars of the shirts
into a bowl of starch,
and roll it up,
it was ready to be ironed.

Laundry back when life was simple...
How can that be a simple time.
I watched my mom and grandma
do this every Monday.
Starting early and it would be evening
when she would finally have
the clothes folded and put away...
The next day was for ironing.

~~~
SIMPLE?
We have the simple life
for now we can throw in a load, have it washed,
thrown in the dryer, and hung up
in a couple of hours.
Taking a coffee break in between
the washing and drying...

by ~ judy
Do our kids know how easy they have it...this was not
my experience, but I watched my mom and grandma
do this every week...never giving it a second thought.
God Bless you moms and grandmas whose work
was never done....
Paul Roberts Jul 2010
Take your shoes off,  follow me to my home.
Gonna go down a red clay road,
feel it sqeeze up through your toes.
Not to worry..bucket by the porch to wash them feet.
Come on up here, get out of this heat.
That down yonder, case the need aroused,
that my friend is called an outhouse.
Think I got most of the spiders out there,
won't eat much, don't be scared.
We cleaned up a mess of rabbits yesterday.
Fried them , plenty, you will stay?
Oh, I am sorry, no running water here.
cold water comes up with that well bucket over there.
Now we stay up till a cooling breeze,
them fans will start going, if you feel the need.
Once the morning chores all get done,
we'll take you to the lake and show you some country fun.
Will swing off that rope swing that we got *******,
some folks get real fancy, diving, flipping and such.
Me I'm kind of laid back on that inter tube,
don't need alot of splashing getting into my cold brew.
So take off your shoes, follow me home.
Got good country cooking, second to none.
Paul Roberts. The Journey
christa coburn Feb 2011
Baby something has to be done here,
or I might as well just burn.
'Cause everytime I think about you,
my stomach completely turns.
I'm falling into a twisted dream,
where your love is filled with pain.
Making tears roll down my cheeks,
as if it were pouring rain.
You take me in your arms,
and sqeeze me very tight.
You tell me you'll never leave me,
and that everything will be alright.
But we both know what happens next,
even though this came unplanned.
We can get through this together,
taking life in with an extra hand.
To show each other there's more to us,
that the little bit of lust.
That's getting us further into time,
slowly striping our unsolved trust.
But this is more than just a fatal mark,
that doesn't last through life.
We can make it through an eternity,
if we learn how to make a sacrafice.
Baby I'm hanging on to you with all,
and I'm never letting go.
You can break my heart a million times,
but our love will still fatally grow.
It's never gonna be enough,
to take me away from the truth.
'Cause everything I'm looking for,
is held deep inside of you.
I can see the pain in your eyes,
that pulls us apart more and more.
But we'll get through this horrid day,
by finding another open door.
I know thongs don't always turn out right,
but todays just another day.
So look back at what happend,
and remember you were the one to say.
"Baby I know things like this happen,
and all you want to do is die.
But when it comes to thinking like that,
just look up at the sky.
I'm the star that shines upon your heart,
making sure you're doing alright.
And I let the moonlight take its toll,
as I kiss your lips for a final goodnight."
Hugo A Sep 2012
Steam surfaces in spurts
As signals from within
A code in fumes and smoke
The mound grows in inches
Hurt buried in graves
Sealed without healing
Not dead nor alive
Limbo creates angst
If you walk up above
Steps press and sqeeze
No space to move aside
I look up and around
clenching teeth and fist
I stare now and before
But release I cannot
As the anger boils and steams
And lava expands below
My five senses feel the pain
Of currents coming out
Just streams but not enough
To lighten this my burden
My explosion comes atop
Shedding all its molten
Burning those around
Melting all the walls
Which once held my home
No longer can I wait
No longer will I wait
My explosion boils and blows
Away I send the past
No longer to return
As I move forward
Mane Omsy Feb 2017
Am I still bluffing stories
When I saw helping hands?
Or am I just mistaken
Witnessing illegal brothels?
Oh, painful

A stab in my heart and take it
Sqeeze as hard as you can
But I won't feel nothing, nothing
It awakes a man at every first
And calms him down
Oh, the power of wealth

How quickly have you described it
So silly and worthless is this issue
Lauren Leal Jun 2015
There is a war in my heart
When did this start?
I feel like I'm caving in
to myself from within

Such a heavy weight on my chest
Can someone take a little and leave me the rest?
But there is no one in sight
Just me outside and alone on this starry night.

This pain is getting the best of me
fading away of what I used to be
I can feel the raging war
My heart grows fierce even more

I fall to my knees gripping my heart
It throbs about to burst apart
I sqeeze my eyes shut to the pain
Feel the water run down my face from the rain

Then I hear someone close by
I look up and begin to cry
For who I see in front of me
Is the couple we were meant to be

I wander to where I was last
I sit
I read
Your name, the dates on the stone in different contrast

There is a War in my heart
I pray it will be the last
To a friend.
nathanthepoet Feb 2020
my name is jane ,though i am quite plain , im more than enough, to drive you insane.
my name is john , i hit the ****, on stage i dance ,wearing janes  thong.
my name is claire , my beuty is rare, but its not enough , john dont care.
my name is jill , and i get a thrill , when jack gooses me , and i roll down the hill .
my name is jack , love jills rack, a lil sqeeze and shell be in the sack !
dont know where my brain got this from but wrote it down and hope to add more soon
Scottie Green Jun 2013
After class, I will stay at the library and study until close at midnight.
Heading home hangs on my shoulders behind the music, the music that tries but can't quite keep my company, and stays well past falling asleep kissing the skin of my morning.
"Home."
White sheets with whiter walls that echo the whispy sound of the AC.
A dark green lace cloth standing as a curtain between me and my only friend--Sun.
I feel that I could reach out for her hug.
Gently pulling her through lace edges, and from behind embroidered corners.
My heart feels a light sqeeze at the thought of raveling into her warmth until I've rolled all the way up her arms, up her rays of sunshine, and into her warm familiar womb.

— The End —