Mr Paddy's Capers.
Just when she thought
She'd found a place alone
To read her book, Mr Paddy
poked his nose between
Her and the open book, so
That pages are blanked out
By his huge head. Mr Paddy
Go off and annoy another,
She said, but he stood there
Determined to be where he
Was, between her and the
Brown covered book, held
Out in her small hands. Oh
Mr Paddy I cannot see the
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poem by Terry Collett
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Move On.
Move on Mulligan would say
Move on don’t look back and
Yet he’d be off on one of his
Journeys into his past talking
About the good old days about
Him and O’Connor and the things
They got up to and how they were
The boys to be seen with and how
They’d be all over the place with
The drink and all and the girls were
Hanging on to their arms and you’d
Say and what kind of girls were they
To be hanging onto your arms and
He’d laugh and slap his knee and give
You the look he gave when he knew
He’d said something he ought not to
But there you are he’d say men are
Men and so it will ever more be so but
For you it was always are the kids fed
Are they clothed are they happy in their
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poem by Terry Collett
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How It was
That is how it was that is how
The painting got painted with
You in it and the artist telling
You how to sit and where and
How to have the hat positioned
On your head and at what angle
And don’t smile too much girl he
Said or look too dour and so you
Sat there in that antique chair with
Your hands held together on your
Knees and your legs crossed ladylike
And your feet on a small stool with
The shawl wrapped about you to
Keep out the cold you felt that day
You posed and looking back years later
You think what a hat to wear and what
A bored expression to have upon your
Face and you note he painted that small
Glass vase of flowers and that round
Mirror on the wall to capture the others
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poem by Terry Collett
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What Was Once
She would often stare at you
sitting by the pond
the summer sunlight
playing there
on the waters' skin
the holidays
having just begun
and she'd say
you do love me don't you?
and you'd look away
from the sunlight's dance
and reply
of course I do
and you'd see that look
in her eyes
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poem by Terry Collett
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Promise Made And Kept.
She stood looking out
Across the small lake
With the late afternoon
Sun reflected in the water
And you beside her your
Hand in hers the sound of
Rooks from the high trees
A slight breeze touching
Tall branches and she said
Softly this is our lake this
Is ours to view and sit beside
And be together and promise
Me you’ll not come here with
Another she said looking from
The water into your hazel eyes
Promise me that and cross your
Heart and hope to die and you
Saw the two vivid reflections of
Yourself there in her bright blue
Eyes and you said yes I promise
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poem by Terry Collett
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Paris 1973 (poem)
That year
in Paris
you took
Dostoyevsky's novel
Crime and Punishment
to read when
you weren't touring
the sites
and you became
so immersed in the book
that you became
Raskolnikov
and killed
the old woman
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poem by Terry Collett
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Business is Business.
See anything you fancy? Bertha
asked opening wide her fur coat
to the guy passing by on his way
Home to his wife or maybe his lonely
apartment but the guy just walked
on a little faster with his face flushed
and his hat slightly askew and she
watched him go off into the crowds
and thought well you can’t win them
all some like the show some don’t and
she pulled her coat tight around her again
and waited for the next potential punter
watching the passing dead going off home
after a boring day at the office or store
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poem by Terry Collett
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Her Mother Doesn't Know.
Rosina's baby sister died.
The cot stood empty
in the darkened room.
Don't go in there
her mother said.
Rosina opened the door
and peered through
the gap instead.
The toys were still there
by the pink pillow and cover.
Leave the room alone
said her grieving mother.
Moonlight shone upon
the place where baby sister
once turned her face
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poem by Terry Collett
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Kiss or Kisses
The kiss, Alber knows,
is the sign of great love
or great betrayal. Juliette
presses her lips to his.
There is spittle there
Somewhere, but neither
cares nor senses any of that.
In between kisses she talks
of the pregnant black cat.
He remembers his first kiss,
that girl whose mother never
trusted him as a boy, gave
him his first joy. Where had
it been? he asked inwardly,
pressing his lips to Juliette's,
ah, yes, in the porch of her
parent's house, the moon
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poem by Terry Collett
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She'd Not Seen.
Tanya had not seen
the thing from that
angle, she'd only seen
it from her own narrow
gauge of looking, and
of course there was
the blindness, caused
by hate, and he had
after all gone off with
that skinny tart, and
after all the effort she'd
taken to loose weight,
and oh yes, he had gone
and taken her favourite
dress the red one she'd
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poem by Terry Collett
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