The Electric Train Set
The electric train set
Was laid out upstairs
in a large room
in your cousin’s house.
It compared unfairly
with your own
hand wound train set
at home, shut up in a box.
Your cousin pushed buttons
and the train and carriages
raced around
the long winding track
as you both looked on,
each with your own
deep down thoughts
and boyish dreams.
No labour involved,
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poem by Terry Collett
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Another
Another night
Molly said
between the sheets
of a cold bed
where emptiness
occupies the space
where you laid your head.
Another day
Molly said
wondering where death
has taken you
from my sight and being
with just a bleak day
and dark clouds for viewing.
Another hour
Molly said
listening to idle gossip
on the radio and TV
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poem by Terry Collett
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Together Forever
Together forever that’s what she
thought and maybe she said it too
you can’t recall it being such a while
ago but hey you loved her right even
if you never actually said so in so many
words at least not to her face not so she
could drink it in and set it amongst the
other dreams she had as a 14 year old girl
and what she thought of 14 year old you
you’ll never know now and she never said
at least not to your face not so you could
tuck it in with the dreams you had of being
a racing driver or movie star or some such
other but being together forever never
took off and maybe without answer just her
dying years later with cruel creeping cancer.
poem by Terry Collett
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That Way He had.
That way he had with words,
That tone he could produce to
Make you go weak at the knees.
You remember him; the photograph
Did it, brought him to mind. You turn
It over, see the scribbled writing on
The back. A poem he wrote, scribbled
Down. The blue has faded, the ink dried
To a death, yet the written words remain,
The message clear: he loved you, compared
You to some summer’s day, not original,
But moving in its way. Copied out of some
Book, no doubt, Shakespearean sonnet, word
For word, the meaning meant, the message
All set down. You kiss the photograph, cry,
Laugh. What a place to drown; what a place
To depart and break a heart: drunk in a bath.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Lostness.
Mickey had locked himself
In the house and his mother
Was concerned he’d do something
To harm himself so you went
Around and knocked at the back
Door and called his name and
He said go away I don’t want to
Talk to anyone but you stayed
And persisted and he finally
Opened up and let you in and
You said why this? And he said
I’m so like my old man that I
Hate myself and he stared at
The Van Gogh print on the wall
Above the fireplace with a look
Of deep unhappiness and lostness
On his face. You are what you make
Yourself you said taking in Vincent’s
Sunflowers the way the vibrant
Picture hung there the smell of
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poem by Terry Collett
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With Kafka.
Kafka would have liked
the way you said that.
You kept his books on
the shelf next to those
of Burroughs and Joyce.
You like the painting on
the book’s paper cover.
Paperbacks are cheap
and soon worn out,
Thornton used to say.
He liked hard covered
books, first editions if
he could afford. He said
Kafka was too morbid
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poem by Terry Collett
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Coming Of Spring
Coming of spring over the fields
she sitting there in the tall grass
talking of the effects of art on the
human mind and fragile heart and
you sitting there beside her your
hand near hers as it lay there and
you half listening to her words while
taking in a glimpse of thigh showing
where her skirt rides high out of the
corner of your eye and she saying
without the essence art life would be
a mistake and you lean forward and
kiss her neck sensing the softness of
skin the smell of sweet scent wishing
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poem by Terry Collett
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On The Horizon
On the horizon
dark birds in the sky
set against a greyness
of clouds holding rain
and she snuggled
up close to you
and said
I dreamt of you last night
and we were making love
and the big moon
was shining through
my bedroom window
and shadows sat
in the corners
like old men dying
and then my mother came in
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poem by Terry Collett
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Shiver
Shiver,
that's what it did to her
sitting naked
in that river,
wanting to get back
to nature, as her mother
has told her:
get back to as it was girl,
rid yourself
of all that filth,
all that vanity,
all that god darn
modern take on beauty.
Shiver,
that's what it did her
lying nude
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poem by Terry Collett
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Seaview Blues.
She stares out at the sea and you
Sit just behind taking in her green
Bikini and her brown hair tied back
In a ponytail and she says he drowned
One night out there someplace stupidly
Drunk after his stag party and hey they
Said hey why don’t walk out in the sea
And so he did and drowned and they
Just stood watching laughing thinking
He was waving out there but he was going
Down once twice thrice and then gone out
Of sight and then she is silent and you say
Nothing because you have no words to put
To the tragic tale and as you sit and stare
Taking in her cute butt and lovely curves
And tied back hair you think but do not
Say I’m glad I didn’t drown out there.
poem by Terry Collett
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