I like to write a lot of poems, y’know, most of them about my brother Joe. So today I’ll write about something new. You see, I have a couple sisters too.
My sisters are so old, they’re in their teens. They try to be the boss of me. They’re mean. They tell me what to do. They babysit. and will not let me cross the street, or spit.
Linda and Bonita are their names. Sometimes they will let me play their games – jump rope, hopscotch, jacks and Crazy Eights. They even sometimes let me wear their skates.
I really like it when we play, us three, because we’re sisters, Linda, Bonnie, me.
You don't remember a lot because you are 7 years than me and 6 years younger than Bonnie. Mom was pregnant with Joe while you were a baby then pregnant with Lydia while you were 2-3 so you didn't have much mothering except from me and Bonnie. That's why you recollect it as mean. We never intended on being mean to you. We loved you so much you were like our own little baby to play with. I do like your poem..but, I want you to know that I have loved you from birth and walked up and down the sidewalk pushing you in the stroller because I enjoyed being with you, you were such a sweet and pleasant baby.
Yes, Linda. I know you and Bonnie raised me as a little kid. I wrote this from the POV of a small child and notice that the things the sisters won't let her/me do are things any parent would not let a child do either. So even in my complaints of "being mean" I am acknowledging as the writer that that they are acting as parents.
1. I bet I’m in a poem, Ashley tells me with a confident and rakish grin, her feet outstretched to show me she rebels. Not yet. That comment on my mind, she wins
a spot within my lines. With forty days of absences, suspended for four more, she made a deep impression. Many ways. But not the one I’m sure she’s hoping for.
I see in her a leader, every ounce of talent wasted being what she wants right now, a bad girl tiger quick to pounce. I wish for her to learn to learn. It haunts
me thinking of two futures, each one hers. It all depends on choices, which occurs.
2. Fateema, much like Ashley, only worse – suspended thirteen, absent eighteen days – disrupts the class when she is there, will curse and talk and won’t sit down or work, finds ways
to make life miserable for everyone, except herself, perhaps a friend or two. But if she takes away my time, she’s won Some days she does. Some days, more rare, I do.
I say her drive could run a business. She says that’s for whites, Good point, except that she could prove them wrong, instead of be the girl who fails again. Why she’ll accept
that life has done her wrong and not fight back I do not understand. Stand up! Attack!
3. Melissa says she wants a poem, appends A nice one. But my poems are not nice. Her name’s Bhagwantie on my roll. She blends with friends and loses culture. That’s the price
of hanging with the bad girls, which she does. A pretty face, body toned, tight clothes, she fits with them, but does not fit, because she wants to get good grades, must balance those
opposing worlds. I’ll bet her parents do not know about Fateema, Ashley, bet her parents wouldn’t like it much. Melissa, who behaves and does her work, can sometimes get
the others working too, so I don’t call. Sometimes you have to compromise, that’s all.
these are so sad and insightful and I wonder if they see themselves and all the potential you see in them... how sad they are ready to just give up and not even try for something better. awesome writes.
still young enough to change vic. hope they don't have to find out what the world is really like, before they do. knew a primary school teacher called anita who just wanted to slap some sense in to a couple of girls in her class.....but apparently you aren't allowed to do that - love - paul.
I think this poem is a novel condensed to the maximum a story can be reduced to. I can even see it as a movie...it hit me so powerfully! I believe I read it before or one like it about these children but, I would read it over and over for the feeling I get from it.
opposing worlds. I’ll bet her parents do not know about Fateema, Ashley, bet They would not like them much. Melissa, who behaves and does her work, can sometimes get
Thanks, Tad!! I had such problems with the 3rd one that I eventually dropped it from the poem and renamed it. I went back and found the original, but with your suggestion I may add the 3rd one back.
Two very fine poems...A prolific poet you are indeed.You must be a wonderful teacher for these children, and I'' bet you have inspired them even though they may not show it. I have three daughters, precious all in different ways...Aha, I sense a poem coming on...Thanks for the thoughts and the lead in.
I love this of course. I also remember you sending me on scavenger hunts through mom's magazines looking for particular words, and of course when we go older, sitting down and writing poems on the same subject, which is what inspired this blog.
What a lucky little gil she was to ave two sisers like ou two. Reminds me a bit of my two older ones, whose little sister was much younger as well. Beautifully rhymed too.
only three women allowed? this may take two poems ha ha
THAT LITTLE GIGGLE
little sammie only cared about vodka and sex more dangerous than a tyrannosaurus rex
disaster!! clare isn't in the library she is the sweet thing i want to marry just get rid of her husband and we'll get there faster wanna settle with her on a plot of land where i could always hold her hand
amanda lives on the street that's where we did meet she always has sore feet she talks about the only holiday she ever had, in crete
we aren't together not like that though it makes me cry to see amanda sitting in snowy weather a street girl who doesn't lie she'd do better in the city with a baseball bat.
very different women. i cannot imagine if by some chance these three women met, they would have nothing to say to each other.....besides sammie would be too busy robbing everyone blind ha ha - take care birthday girl - love - paul.
hard to sum up these three complex and very different women in a few paragraphs. should have gone in to more sammie detail, but i didn't want to make people ill - thanks victoria - love - paul.
Three women meet and tell each other their stories. They are amazed at the similarities. Each is in her twenties, skinny, with bones for hips; each has sunken eyes, hair spiky on top, wispy down her neck. Each wears a stud in her navel, and all three navels are visible, below ratty T-shirts, above the frayed waistbands of blue jeans.
Each has, above her jutting left pelvic bone, a discoloration. Each, in turn, tugs down on a belt loop, till it shows purple, the shape of an archipelago, more like a birthmark than a bruise, but each confesses the discoloration is recent.
To get to the meat of it, each of these women has had sex with aliens. Apparently they are the aliens' type, though they distrust each other, and would acknowledge no likeness.
Each wonders if the others are holding back secrets. There should be more, each thinks, than this purple spot and a burning, similar to a yeast infection except for the pulsing, and a faint hum— a guy sitting hear them, staring into his beer, thinks he hears a chromatic chord, rising and falling, though where it comes from, he would not hazard a guess.
Cassandra goes to church on Sunday teaches Sunday school tries to love all her neighbors lives by the golden rule Her family is the structure that keeps her foundation strong, her grand children gather around her she teaches them right from wrong. Together we laugh and giggle watch over all the strays she worries over my lack of religion for my soul she prays.
Anne lost her husband to cancer about five years ago lives alone in their house what she does I do not know. Tends to her yard and garden even on the hottest days, goes out to dinner with her friends but mostly inside her house she stays. We talk with each other when outside we happen to meet but mostly we just say hello and ask how the other how do you like this heat?
Weezie hangs her laundry along her neighbors fence that's how they did it in Germany to us it makes no sense A black woman who doesn't understand the culture of the southern life never having lived or suffered the southern blacks strife. She's a funny kind of air head loveable and kind but we just aren't able to get inside her mind
We all live along this street our paths will often cross as we share each others gains and mourn each ones loss. Women all so different yet we're all the same we love our friends and family are caught in life's strange game If we need a little support when life becomes too rough each other we can count on for me that's enough.
I loved it!! I was with each friend along with you! you do a great job with imagery. So good I could see your friends, all of them sweet and kind in their own special way.
fae's pizza restaurant has to be experienced to believe it. a guy walked in the other day and fae screamed " OUT!!! " at him. threw a salt cellar at him and screamed " oooowww my bloody back!!! ". what is there not to like? - love - paul.
one more poem would be nice.....six more would be better. i've known three women called donna. each progressivly worse than the one before...how does that work then? - take care mate - paul.
Wanda draws my blood she's good - always gets the needle in on first try finds a vein where others Fumble and hurt me as they search for a good vein. I like Wanda - we chat before she sends me to the next procedure
Regina weighs me. Is happy to see I've regained a few pounds it means I'm eating again she takes my temperature Checks my blood pressure all is well so she sends me to THE room where
Holly waits for me and the rest of us who will sit in recliners have IV's inserted into the The ports in our arms or chest drugs are hung on a post drip into the ports three different bags with hopefully healing drugs. The big chemo bag takes three hours alone. I am there five hours. Longer than Than the others but I am used to it now and am prepared. .
Three more after this one. three women, three bags of drugs three more treatments to go. three is my lucky number!
nicely done bonita. reminded me of a trainee nurse who was jabbing at my arm for five minutes looking for a vein. i said " look pet, i'm not a fucking pin cushion. gimme it here. i'll do it myself ". yeah. just lying there waiting for those bags full of yellow gunk to empty in to your arm. the five inch long needle stomach drain lasted 6 hours but was quite relaxing and gave me time to read a book. take care bonita. don't run any marathons or nothing - love - paul.
Each of these women deserves a poem of her own, and once again you somehow made disjointed lives connect. And sure, I would happy to suspend the rules this time. It's Friday already but if you have more, go for it. i won't delete them. LOL
Whew! Made it! Good poems all. No time to comment and I'll be gone all day tomorrow, so please, let me say I am as always impressed with the wonderful writing of you all.
each of these women has several poems about them. again they are very different. no way fae, or zoe would have anything to do with mary jane and fae would frighten zoe. mary jane is probably back in jail now - i'll try and get another poem out, but it's saturday afternoon and early library closing...i love tight deadlines - love - paul.
thanks tash. interesting is one word you could use. i would use goddess for zoe. hilarious for fae and drunken, heroin addicted, lying crack head pill popping cheating daughter of satan for mary jane - love - paul.
ok. i have special permission for one more poem. gonna have to be straight up on the screen. no notes. no spell checks. no idea where to start ha ha.
DIFFERENT WORLDS
my friend jaquia took up boxing at the age of fifty six needed some spice in her life's mix don't think her kids like seeing mommy punched in the ring but she always does her own thing
kylie only watched soap operas and all her friends were bores think she only noticed i'd left soap opera territory when there was no one around to make her tea
wasn't gonna mention marie as she tried to kill me she broke my hand and set fire to the bed with me in it i was shouting " taxi!!! " never going back to sunderland not with the craziness and all that shit.
made it!! never got around to " the three donna's " poem....probably for the best - love - paul.
An old "kid poem."
ReplyDeleteTHREE SISTERS
a sonnet
I like to write a lot of poems, y’know,
most of them about my brother Joe.
So today I’ll write about something new.
You see, I have a couple sisters too.
My sisters are so old, they’re in their teens.
They try to be the boss of me. They’re mean.
They tell me what to do. They babysit.
and will not let me cross the street, or spit.
Linda and Bonita are their names.
Sometimes they will let me play their games –
jump rope, hopscotch, jacks and Crazy Eights.
They even sometimes let me wear their skates.
I really like it when we play, us three,
because we’re sisters, Linda, Bonnie, me.
lol! love it!
Deletecan't believe bonita and wolfie wouldn't let you spit vic ha ha - love - paul.
DeleteYou don't remember a lot because you are 7 years than me and 6 years younger than Bonnie. Mom was pregnant with Joe while you were a baby then pregnant with Lydia while you were 2-3 so you didn't have much mothering except from me and Bonnie. That's why you recollect it as mean. We never intended on being mean to you. We loved you so much you were like our own little baby to play with. I do like your poem..but, I want you to know that I have loved you from birth and walked up and down the sidewalk pushing you in the stroller because I enjoyed being with you, you were such a sweet and pleasant baby.
DeleteThis has such charm.
DeleteYes, Linda. I know you and Bonnie raised me as a little kid. I wrote this from the POV of a small child and notice that the things the sisters won't let her/me do are things any parent would not let a child do either. So even in my complaints of "being mean" I am acknowledging as the writer that that they are acting as parents.
DeleteSweet poem, very nicely put.
DeleteAnd an old teacher poem:
ReplyDeleteTHREE GIRLS IN THREE SONNETS
1.
I bet I’m in a poem, Ashley tells
me with a confident and rakish grin,
her feet outstretched to show me she rebels.
Not yet. That comment on my mind, she wins
a spot within my lines. With forty days
of absences, suspended for four more,
she made a deep impression. Many ways.
But not the one I’m sure she’s hoping for.
I see in her a leader, every ounce
of talent wasted being what she wants
right now, a bad girl tiger quick to pounce.
I wish for her to learn to learn. It haunts
me thinking of two futures, each one hers.
It all depends on choices, which occurs.
2.
Fateema, much like Ashley, only worse –
suspended thirteen, absent eighteen days –
disrupts the class when she is there, will curse
and talk and won’t sit down or work, finds ways
to make life miserable for everyone,
except herself, perhaps a friend or two.
But if she takes away my time, she’s won
Some days she does. Some days, more rare, I do.
I say her drive could run a business. She
says that’s for whites, Good point, except
that she could prove them wrong, instead of be
the girl who fails again. Why she’ll accept
that life has done her wrong and not fight back
I do not understand. Stand up! Attack!
3.
Melissa says she wants a poem, appends
A nice one. But my poems are not nice.
Her name’s Bhagwantie on my roll. She blends
with friends and loses culture. That’s the price
of hanging with the bad girls, which she does.
A pretty face, body toned, tight clothes,
she fits with them, but does not fit, because
she wants to get good grades, must balance those
opposing worlds. I’ll bet her parents do
not know about Fateema, Ashley, bet
her parents wouldn’t like it much. Melissa, who
behaves and does her work, can sometimes get
the others working too, so I don’t call.
Sometimes you have to compromise, that’s all.
these are so sad and insightful and I wonder if they see themselves and all the potential you see in them... how sad they are ready to just give up and not even try for something better. awesome writes.
Deletestill young enough to change vic. hope they don't have to find out what the world is really like, before they do. knew a primary school teacher called anita who just wanted to slap some sense in to a couple of girls in her class.....but apparently you aren't allowed to do that - love - paul.
DeleteI think this poem is a novel condensed to the maximum a story can be reduced to. I can even see it as a movie...it hit me so powerfully! I believe I read it before or one like it about these children but, I would read it over and over for the feeling I get from it.
DeleteHeartbreaking.
DeleteSuggestion for scansion:
opposing worlds. I’ll bet her parents do
not know about Fateema, Ashley, bet
They would not like them much. Melissa, who
behaves and does her work, can sometimes get
Thanks, Tad!! I had such problems with the 3rd one that I eventually dropped it from the poem and renamed it. I went back and found the original, but with your suggestion I may add the 3rd one back.
DeleteYou are a very good poet. I am always impessed with your ability to rhyme and rhythm so well.
DeleteTwo very fine poems...A prolific poet you are indeed.You must be a wonderful teacher for these children, and I'' bet you have inspired them even though they may not show it. I have three daughters, precious all in different ways...Aha, I sense a poem coming on...Thanks for the thoughts and the lead in.
ReplyDeletethey were three little girls
ReplyDeletethrown together by chance
to share a life filled
with adventure and romance
we adored our little sister
although, she didn't know it
she really didn't understand
eight and nine, one bit
if we let her do things
and let her get hurt
we got punished
so, we were always alert
we had to say, "no, Victoria,
that, you cannot do!"
many more times than two little
girls ever wanted too
we knew what it felt like
to climb up that tree
we used to do it
when we ran free
we had the woods to play in
just behind our home
and mom was sick with pregnancy
and we were free to roam
Bonnie and I had fun with her
we taught her how to read
I sewed the books together
while Bonnie cutout words we'd need
LOOK and SEE, RUN and JUMP
with pictures for them all
we let Victoria cut out words
so, she learned some words like, ball
so, childhood was rocky
but we made it through and learned
how to be the best or friends
where love and pride are concerned
this one made me all warm and fuzzy wolfie. vic should be happy. my sister was 13 years older than me and crazy as a bag of wolverines - love paul.
DeleteIf I were Victoria, you'd have to pick me up off the floor right about now. Even just being me, there's a lump in my throat.
Deleteyes Victoria was our little child to love and nourish while mom dealt with her pregnancies. what fun we had being little mothers. very sweet poem.
DeleteI love this of course. I also remember you sending me on scavenger hunts through mom's magazines looking for particular words, and of course when we go older, sitting down and writing poems on the same subject, which is what inspired this blog.
DeleteWhat a lucky little gil she was to ave two sisers like ou two. Reminds me a bit of my two older ones, whose little sister was much younger as well. Beautifully rhymed too.
Deleteonly three women allowed? this may take two poems ha ha
ReplyDeleteTHAT LITTLE GIGGLE
little sammie only cared about vodka and sex
more dangerous than a tyrannosaurus rex
disaster!!
clare isn't in the library
she is the sweet thing i want to marry
just get rid of her husband
and we'll get there faster
wanna settle with her on a plot of land
where i could always hold her hand
amanda lives on the street
that's where we did meet
she always has sore feet
she talks about the only holiday she ever had, in crete
we aren't together
not like that
though it makes me cry
to see amanda sitting in snowy weather
a street girl who doesn't lie
she'd do better in the city with a baseball bat.
three very different women who have influenced your life in one way or another...touched your life for good or bad. good write,
Deletevery different women. i cannot imagine if by some chance these three women met, they would have nothing to say to each other.....besides sammie would be too busy robbing everyone blind ha ha - take care birthday girl - love - paul.
Deletethanks wolfie. clare loved the poem i wrote her.....now i just have to get rid of this pesky husband - love - paul.
DeleteWow. It seems both random and well-thought out. Nicely done.
Deletehard to sum up these three complex and very different women in a few paragraphs. should have gone in to more sammie detail, but i didn't want to make people ill - thanks victoria - love - paul.
DeleteGood descriptions and well said.
Deletethanks tash.
DeleteWell, I would bet you had fun with this one. All your favorite girlfriends! Very fun take on the prompt. Almost like the prompt was made for you!
ReplyDeleteThis was made for Paul. I'd suspend the rules for this once and let him post one more.
ReplyDeleteI'm fine with that, this ONE time, though it may be too late. It's Friday already.
DeleteTHREE WOMEN
ReplyDeleteThree women meet and tell each other their stories.
They are amazed at the similarities. Each is in her twenties,
skinny, with bones for hips; each has sunken eyes,
hair spiky on top, wispy down her neck.
Each wears a stud in her navel, and all three
navels are visible, below ratty T-shirts, above
the frayed waistbands of blue jeans.
Each has, above her jutting left pelvic bone,
a discoloration. Each, in turn, tugs down on
a belt loop, till it shows purple, the shape of
an archipelago, more like a birthmark
than a bruise, but each confesses
the discoloration is recent.
To get to the meat of it, each
of these women has had sex with aliens.
Apparently they are the aliens' type,
though they distrust each other, and would acknowledge no likeness.
Each wonders if the others are holding back secrets.
There should be more, each thinks, than this purple spot
and a burning, similar to a yeast infection
except for the pulsing, and a faint hum—
a guy sitting hear them, staring into his beer, thinks
he hears a chromatic chord, rising and falling,
though where it comes from, he would not hazard a guess.
truly interesting and intriguing.
Deletedarn aliens. always up to this sort of thing. these girls weren't from arizona were they ha ha - nice one tad - paul.
DeleteI remember this one from long ago either. Thought it was strange then, think it's strange now, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. LOL
DeleteFascinating...did you imagine this or was it a true thing? Great story either way.
DeleteTasha -- totally imagined. I got the first line from somewhere - maybe a story on NPR - and just let my imagination run with it.
DeleteVictoria - Strange??? Me?????
Deleteah yes! miss fae! she always makes my day... love this one.
ReplyDeleteThree Women on My Street
ReplyDeleteCassandra goes to church on Sunday
teaches Sunday school
tries to love all her neighbors
lives by the golden rule
Her family is the structure
that keeps her foundation strong,
her grand children gather around her
she teaches them right from wrong.
Together we laugh and giggle
watch over all the strays
she worries over my lack of religion
for my soul she prays.
Anne lost her husband to cancer
about five years ago
lives alone in their house
what she does I do not know.
Tends to her yard and garden
even on the hottest days,
goes out to dinner with her friends
but mostly inside her house she stays.
We talk with each other
when outside we happen to meet
but mostly we just say hello
and ask how the other
how do you like this heat?
Weezie hangs her laundry
along her neighbors fence
that's how they did it in Germany
to us it makes no sense
A black woman who doesn't understand
the culture of the southern life
never having lived or suffered
the southern blacks strife.
She's a funny kind of air head
loveable and kind
but we just aren't able
to get inside her mind
We all live along this street
our paths will often cross
as we share each others gains
and mourn each ones loss.
Women all so different
yet we're all the same
we love our friends and family
are caught in life's strange game
If we need a little support
when life becomes too rough
each other we can count on
for me that's enough.
nice snapshot in to three womens lives bonita. this could be the plot for a film - love - paul.
DeleteCaptures a little world of diverse women.
DeleteI loved it!! I was with each friend along with you! you do a great job with imagery. So good I could see your friends, all of them sweet and kind in their own special way.
DeleteVery interesting take on the prompt In a way though, it's four women since you are indirectly included in the poem. LOL
DeleteYou have written well aabout your life and in an interesting way as well. Reminds me of the star of a short story or even a novel.
Deletefae's pizza restaurant has to be experienced to believe it. a guy walked in the other day and fae screamed " OUT!!! " at him. threw a salt cellar at him and screamed " oooowww my bloody back!!! ". what is there not to like? - love - paul.
ReplyDeleteone more poem would be nice.....six more would be better. i've known three women called donna. each progressivly worse than the one before...how does that work then? - take care mate - paul.
ReplyDeleteThree's
ReplyDeleteWanda draws my blood
she's good - always gets
the needle in on first try
finds a vein where others
Fumble and hurt me as
they search for a good vein.
I like Wanda - we chat before
she sends me to the next procedure
Regina weighs me. Is happy to see
I've regained a few pounds
it means I'm eating again
she takes my temperature
Checks my blood pressure
all is well so she sends me
to THE room where
Holly waits for me and the rest
of us who will sit in recliners
have IV's inserted into the
The ports in our arms or chest
drugs are hung on a post
drip into the ports
three different bags with
hopefully healing drugs.
The big chemo bag
takes three hours alone.
I am there five hours. Longer than
Than the others but I am
used to it now and am prepared. .
Three more after this one.
three women, three bags of drugs
three more treatments to go.
three is my lucky number!
Wow. Powerful!!
DeleteBless you! You are strong and brave!
DeletePowerful.
Deletenicely done bonita. reminded me of a trainee nurse who was jabbing at my arm for five minutes looking for a vein. i said " look pet, i'm not a fucking pin cushion. gimme it here. i'll do it myself ". yeah. just lying there waiting for those bags full of yellow gunk to empty in to your arm. the five inch long needle stomach drain lasted 6 hours but was quite relaxing and gave me time to read a book. take care bonita. don't run any marathons or nothing - love - paul.
ReplyDeleteEach of these women deserves a poem of her own, and once again you somehow made disjointed lives connect. And sure, I would happy to suspend the rules this time. It's Friday already but if you have more, go for it. i won't delete them. LOL
ReplyDelete
ReplyDeleteDaughters Three
I am blessed with daughters three,
each as different as can be,
each as a loving in her way,
I give thanks for them each day.
Strong and kind, each gives her heart
in her craft and in her art,
different though they may be
each one has a part of me
All of them are teachers too,
talented, with what they do
sharing with the world they give
in the way they do and live.
Mothers all, and one a "grand"
Their children seven understand
What it is to do their part
With their own most precious art.
I am blessed with daughters three
Each alike as she can be
In the way they give and thrive
Blessed am I that they're alive.
well done tash. you must have been a great mom to turn out three daughters like that - love - paul.
DeleteThanks my friend, you are kind. They had a great dad too.
DeleteI like how you start that each are different then come full circle to each alike...well written with a nice rhythm and rhyme.
DeleteThanks, Bonnie, you got it nicely, and I am grateful for the kind words
DeleteWhew! Made it! Good poems all. No time to comment and I'll be gone all day tomorrow, so please, let me say I am as always impressed with the wonderful writing of you all.
ReplyDeleteBoo hoo hoo hoo. waaaaaaaa aha aha boo hoo hoo hoo...I (sniff) like to get (sniff, sniff) comments form everybody!!!! boo hoo
DeleteI did, but not just then. Check and see.
DeleteYou have known so many women and such interesin ones. Good descriptions.
ReplyDeleteeach of these women has several poems about them. again they are very different. no way fae, or zoe would have anything to do with mary jane and fae would frighten zoe. mary jane is probably back in jail now - i'll try and get another poem out, but it's saturday afternoon and early library closing...i love tight deadlines - love - paul.
ReplyDeletethanks tash. interesting is one word you could use. i would use goddess for zoe. hilarious for fae and drunken, heroin addicted, lying crack head pill popping cheating daughter of satan for mary jane - love - paul.
ReplyDeleteok. i have special permission for one more poem. gonna have to be straight up on the screen. no notes. no spell checks. no idea where to start ha ha.
ReplyDeleteDIFFERENT WORLDS
my friend jaquia took up boxing
at the age of fifty six
needed some spice in her life's mix
don't think her kids like seeing mommy punched in the ring
but she always does her own thing
kylie only watched soap operas
and all her friends were bores
think she only noticed i'd left soap opera territory
when there was no one around to make her tea
wasn't gonna mention marie
as she tried to kill me
she broke my hand
and set fire to the bed with me in it
i was shouting " taxi!!! "
never going back to sunderland
not with the craziness and all that shit.
made it!! never got around to " the three donna's " poem....probably for the best - love - paul.
omg! I was wondering when Marie would show up! sigh... yeah Sunderland was not the place to be. Glad you are out of there.
Deleteyeah, marie was seeing a whole flock of psychiatrists. gotta go back to sunderland on business today. sssshhhhhh don't tell marie - love paul.
Deleteoh they are colourful tash....in the same way that a black eye is colourful ha ha - love - paul.
DeleteYou surely have known an interesting bunch of women, and write in a most colorful way about them.
ReplyDelete