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One last time.

One last time daddy hold me close to your heart.
One last time daddy let's play Scrabble so I can win.
Daddy one more time to walk together, talking about the next trip.
Daddy for the very, last time tell me that you love me very much so.
Mommy one last time, doing my make-up for me.
One last time mommy, cook tacos and cake for a birthday.
Just one last time mommy, the laugh that we will never forget.
Mommy just one more time to go to the mall together with your best friend.
One last time sister, playing with dolls in your room that your share with me.
Sister one more time to ride daddy's motorcycle with him.
Sister just one more time to cook with mommy and daddy.
One last time sister to share a room, wear each other clothes.
Brother one more time for the fun, old memories when we never fought.
Brother one more time fun of it chasing the dogs around the yard.
One last time brother to go running through the woods for you.
Brother one more time to play hide and go seek for grandpa.
One last time grandma cooking for the family reunion and grandma for the very last time measure a skirt.
One last time grandma to sew and sew the skirt for me to wear on Sunday.
Grandma one more time to get the laughs all the time.
One more time grandpa to read the Christmas story from the Bible.

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poem by Debra George
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But She Knew

But I know
she said

that you love me
and you were sitting

by the pond
you with that cheap fishing rod

which caught nothing
and she sitting there

her hands over her knees
gazing at the still surface

even if you don’t
say it often

she added
laying her chin

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poem by Terry Collett
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An Angel's Touch

It was Wednesday morning service
in the church next to the school
and Helen sat next to you

in the old wooden pew
her eyes peering
behind her thick lens glasses

at you and she whispered
your mum's meeting my mum
in the street market after school

and then we're going to my house
for a cup of tea
and I can show you

my doll's house
that my dad made
out of an orange box

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poem by Terry Collett
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One Leg Anne and the Kid

Anne poked Monica
the girl with burn scars
with one of her crutches

and said
Scam scar face
me and the skinny kid

want to be alone
and Monica moved off
and said

I'm going to tell
Sister Bridget about you
Anne indicated for you

to sit in one of the chairs
on the lawn
and said to Monica

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poem by Terry Collett
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O’Grady’s Little Girl

Her hair was dark and curly, floatin’ to the saddle bow,
Her laugh was frank and girlish, and her voice was sweet and low;
When I was one-and-twenty, sure my heart was in a whirl,
Ridin’ neath the blossomed gum-trees with O’Grady’s little girl.

And ah! The dear grey eyes of her all truth and purity
What a beacon-light to goodness, such a colleen’s eyes can be!
The blazed a track to Heaven for me an’ it struck me like a blow
When O’Grady left the township, just twenty years ago.

In those years I’ve grown and prospered-sure the township’s half me own-
But my heart’s been empty-aching-since she left me all alone.
Now we’ve got a “Back-to-She-Oak’ week, celebratin’ royally,
And Nora’s coming home again, to join the revelry.

I’ll know her by here wild-rose face, her floatin’ curling hair,
By the neat black skirt and frilly blouse she always loved to wear,
I’ve never looked at wimmin since, but at the township ball
I’ll tell her all my faithful love-my hopes, and dreams and all.

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poem by Alice Guerin Crist
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Magdalene and the Beatles's First LP

Magdalene watched Mary
bend down to put on the LP.
The Beatles. They'd saved

up and bought it together.
She took in Mary's stockinged
thigh showing through the slit

in the side of the school skirt.
Mary placed the LP carefully
onto the turntable, with her finger

put the needle arm down onto
the vinyl. The music started up,
Mary stood up and sat next to

Magdalene on the single bed.
Magdalene sensed her there,
her thigh next to hers, her

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poem by Terry Collett
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I Was A Bustlemaker Once, Girls

When I was a lad of twenty and was working in High Street, Ken.,
I made quite a pile in a very little while - I was a bustle maker then.
Then there was work in plenty, and I was a thriving man
But things have decayed in the bustle making trade, since the bustle making trade began.
I built bustles with a will then, I made bustles with a wit,
I made bustles as a Yankee hustles, simply for the love of it.
I built bustles with a skill then, surpassed, they say, by none,
But those were the days when bustles were the craze, and now those days are done.
I was a bustle maker once, girls, many many years ago,
I put my heart in the bustle maker's art and I don't mind saying so.
I may have had the brains of a dunce, girls, I may have had the mind of a muff,
I may have been plain and deficient in the brain but I did know a bustle maker's stuff.
I built bustles for the slender, I built bustles for the stout,
I built bustles for the girls with muscles, and bustles for the girls without.
I built bustles by the thousands, in the good old days of yore,
But things have decayed in the bustle making trade and I don't build bustles any more.
Many were the models worn once; but mine were unique, tis said,
No rival design was so elegant as mine; I was a bustle maker bred.
I was a bustle maker born once, an artist through and through,
But things have decayed in the bustle making trade

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poem by Patrick Barrington
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Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 13

I heard a king, who had changed night into day by pleasures, saying in his drunkenness:

"We have in the world no moment more delightful than this,
Because I care neither for good nor for bad nor for anyone."
A naked dervish, who was sleeping outside in the cold, then said:
'O thou like whom in happiness there is no one in the world,
I take it if thou carest not, we also do not care."

The king, being pleased with these words of unconcern, held out a bag of a thousand dinars from the window and said: "Dervish, spread out thy skirt." He replied: "Whence can I, who have no robe, bring a skirt?" The padshah took pity on his helpless condition, added a robe to his gift and sent it out to him but the dervish squandered the money in a short time and returned.

Property cannot abide in the hands of the free,
Neither patience in the heart of a lover nor water in a sieve.

The case of the dervish having been brought to the notice of the king when he was not in good humour, he became angry and turned his face away. Therefore it has been said that intelligent and experienced men ought to be on their guard against the violence and despotism of kings because their thoughts are generally occupied with important affairs of state so that they cannot bear to be importuned by the crowd of vulgar persons.

He will be excluded from the beneficence of the padshah
Who cannot watch for the proper opportunity.
Before thou seest the occasion for speaking at hand
Destroy not thy power by heedless talk.

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poem by Sa di
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A Spring Song

The world 'as got me snouted jist a treat;
Crool Forchin's dirty left 'as smote me soul;
An' all them joys o' life I 'eld so sweet
Is up the pole.
Fer, as the poit sez, me 'eart 'as got
The pip wiv yearnin' fer -- I dunno wot.

I'm crook; me name is Mud; I've done me dash;
Me flamin' spirit's got the flamin' 'ump!
I'm longin' to let loose on somethin' rash....
Aw, I'm a chump!
I know it; but this blimed ole Springtime craze
Fair outs me, on these dilly, silly days.

The young green leaves is shootin' on the trees,
The air is like a long, cool swig o' beer,
The bonzer smell o' flow'rs is on the breeze
An 'ere's me, 'ere,
Jist mooching around like some pore, barmy coot,
Of 'ope, an' joy, an' forchin destichoot.

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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Marmalades Revenge......Part of a long poem story

Please note... this is part of a book i am trying to write and is far from finished, based on characters i drew....or the other way round :)

'its a beautiful day, lets go for a lark' said Lady Marmalade 'i know Hyde Park! '
To her pal Lord Bailey, a short stout chap
'Oh whoopy! ' said he as he leapt on her lap
Before setting off they sat at the table
Gingham cloth, silverware as they called for Maid Mabel
Burnt toast, poached eggs, their just delight
Marmalade cross-legged
Bailey relished the sight
Mabel laid down two cups of Earl Grey
Whilst two happy chums made plans for the day

They would take Flamdunk the dog from next door
Who rarely got out, which they thought quite poor

Marmalade dashed off for her favourite toy
A bright yellow skateboard she'd took from a boy
Whilst Bailey leaned in his bestest toy box
Took out some poo sticks and some garish striped socks

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poem by Karen Sinclair
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