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Post by biglin on Jan 30, 2011 19:11:31 GMT -5
I still prefer my original version but the editor wanted me to make those changes so I did.
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Post by jaysparrow38 on Jan 31, 2011 19:33:02 GMT -5
A fine effort indeed, Miss Lin. I'm not at all surprised it has been published.
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Post by biglin on Feb 1, 2011 16:07:49 GMT -5
Thank you, Jay.
(We'd say 'nais tukes' in Romani)
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Post by biglin on Feb 5, 2011 9:22:09 GMT -5
One I wrote when I was 20 looking back on my time as a juvenile delinquent, gang member, and general ASBO-type individual.
Better Luck Next Time
Taking speed's just what you need and knives and guns are lots of fun riot shields and sex appeal looting shops and shooting cops down the drain it's all insane kicked in the gob you're just a slob law and order tape recorder their tax free money it's so funny you can take tea with royalty you only have to bend the knee
watch what you say and what you do you know they're only out to get you some day all this is gonna change till then keep shooting down the rifle range
I wanna be a one woman Angry Brigade but all my ideals were long ago betrayed
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Post by biglin on Feb 5, 2011 9:34:36 GMT -5
This is a ballad I wrote about one of the worst female serial killers of all time, Amelia Dyer.
I entered it for a ballad competition and it won!
The Ballad of Amelia Dyer
O hear my prayer, you maidens fair, Do not as I have done; My wicked life beyond compare May you all rightly shun.
Now I'm delivered to the court And the judge he said to me There could be no mercy for my sort, And I'll hang from the gallows tree.
O hear my prayer, you maidens fair, Do not as I have done; My wicked life beyond compare May you all rightly shun.
Baby farming was my trade, And the ladies gave me their bairns; And for their care I was well paid Though I laid them under cairns.
O hear my prayer, you maidens fair, Do not as I have done; My wicked life beyond compare May you all rightly shun.
Under stones or in the flowing stream I cast their young lives away; Money I had more than I could dream But their young lives I chose to slay.
O hear my prayer, you maidens fair, Do not as I have done; My wicked life beyond compare May you all rightly shun.
From Newgate gaol I'll be led Up to the scaffold's height, Hung by the neck till I am dead, And then - eternal night!
O hear my prayer, you maidens fair, Do not as I have done; My wicked life beyond compare May you all rightly shun.
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Post by biglin on Feb 5, 2011 9:36:22 GMT -5
This poem is an attempt to explain why I left my wicked life as a juvenile delinquent and came to God and to look on Jesus Christ as my Saviour.
Salvation
I know God truly touched my life the day I walked within the wood I'd known so well, Sunk in the misery of living hell, And gazed at lifeless trees whose limbs display - And in their twisted trunks daily declare - Only the woes they suffered at life's hands, And how time's scourge has withered their demands To an exact and miniscule despair, With only spring to hope for. Far away The season when the earth will bloom again, As sunk in winter, shrouded in harsh pain, All life around seems utterly in vain.
Then, with a sudden shift of weather's gear, The sun peeped timidly out from the cloud That till that time had been the air's own shroud, And rays of brightness started to appear.
A gentle breeze began to blow at last, And, as I let it tousle all my hair And blow upon me, strip my dead soul bare Of all its pride and coldness, with its blast Of icy healing, so I felt inside The first faint stirrings of a hidden sound, A kind and gentle voice that showed no pride, But only warmed my coldness as I found A sudden sense of feelings in my heart, A sudden touch of loving in my soul. I looked around me, startled, but the dart Which pierced me then so swiftly was a coal To warm my stricken spirit from its frost; I felt the presence of the Holy Ghost.
And then a voice inside began to speak, As, trembling, I went down upon my knees. I knew I'd been a sinner, and, still weak, I waited for the news of my demise.
The voice inside me told me to arise, And not be fearful; God is full of love, He cares for you on earth as up above, Shines in your heart as down from yonder skies. You are the quarry that he seeks, and now You must be his again, and turn away From sin's jewelled path you've walked for many years, And he will put an end to all your tears, And grant you his forgiveness this bright day.
As the sun wanly shone within the wood And as I felt a lifting of my pain I gazed around me, knowing that my vain And shallow life had followed sin, not good, And even so the Lord had mercy on me, And called me back to him; he did not shun me.
So from that moment I believed once more, And, though I'd brought no glory, only sin To the world he'd made, I suddenly felt sure That with this second chance I'd fight and win The devil heart that in me till then dwelt. On God's green earth I stood, and, humbly, knelt To offer thanks to him for saving me, As from my sinful soul his shaving me Of my false pride and bitterness permitted Me to his truth and love to be committed.
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Post by biglin on Feb 5, 2011 9:41:01 GMT -5
This is one I entered for an erotic poetry competition.
I won!
Thank you, Sir
Ooh, yes please, please do it again: I love it when you give me pain. Thank you for putting me over your lap And giving me such a nice big slap On my naughty bum; I'm a naughty girl, And now my head is all in a whirl As your masterful hands beat out a tattoo For me being such a naughty girl to you.
I've been out playing hanky-panky So now it's time for my spanky spanky; Thank you and please would you hit me again? I love it when you give me pain.
Then when it's over and I dress again I rub my bum and still feel the pain; 'Thank you, sir; I deserved every stroke, And thank you for being such a masterful bloke, Who knows how to put a girlie like me Right back in her proper place - over your knee!'
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Post by biglin on Feb 5, 2011 9:45:27 GMT -5
Nor All My Tears
Of course I cried But even the swell of the ocean Was not enough After the pain you brought.
Love's rushing tide And swirling motion With all the rough Wisdom they taught
Could not disguise The fear within my eyes As you so turned And I, so spurned, Hung on a narrow ledge Uncertain hands and fingers Seeking to linger And maintain their tenuous grasp Upon the love they thought they'd clasp Over the edge.
Heartsick, my world collapsed And, though it seemed That hours and even days elapsed I only dreamed; Waking, I found myself alone, Stranded on an endless beach With nothing but strewn pebbles and rough stone, And you eternally out of my reach.
I found you there, Stroking her long blonde hair, But, even worse, The love I felt inside All turned to hate As, with an angry curse, I saw you loved another.
So I rose up in rage, Resolved to smother The object of my fears; I shed no tears And slew your mate, Laughed when I saw she'd died.
What have you done to me? In all my life I've never Turned such a bloody page As now, to sever All the good kind and loving part Of me out of my aching heart.
Now I must walk alone, Clutching my cold dead heart of stone To me in shame. Oh, it was you to blame, And, as I catch my breath, I only long for death.
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Post by biglin on Feb 5, 2011 10:08:20 GMT -5
After he leaves
Be hushed, you stormy waves, and let me sleep; Let the waves cease their crashing on the shore. My eyes are red with tears, yet still I weep To think perhaps my love loves me no more,
Be still, you larks that sing, And pause upon the wing; Let rain wash clean the earth That gave me birth.
Be dark, you radiant beams of sun that play Upon this sorry world in which I dwell; My heart has turned to ice this sunny day, And not a beam of warmth breaks through my shell.
Be cold, you mountain heights, Not clothed in green delight, But the hard brilliance of an uncut stone Now I must walk alone.
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Post by biglin on Feb 5, 2011 10:10:59 GMT -5
MVS (Murder Victim Survivor)
When murder comes into your life, And takes away the one you love, All you can do is curl up and hope to die.
Even the flame of revenge Isn't enough To justify going on living.
So, you think of suicide, You maybe even try But you don't have the guts.
You try to hang yourself But the rope's too loose And it doesn't hold your weight anyway.
You try to cut your throat But when you put the knife there You just can't do it.
You try to take some pills And wash them down with booze But they don't work.
Then you lie listless, Waiting and hoping to die, But you don't die.
And then the cops come round, Ask you all sorts of stuff, Even treat you like a suspect.
And all the while There's an emptiness inside That will never be filled.
So you go on but not too much, Eat and drink just enough to stay alive, And your heart shuts down.
Not only your heart, but your brain Shuts down a little to keep you sane As you try to deal with being an MVS.
And nothing seems to matter, Your whole world's shattered anyway. What can you do or say?
You lie there waiting for - well, what? You know she's never coming back, You'll never see her this side of Paradise.
So what the hell to do? Oh, sure, you try and pray, And maybe get some comfort there.
So what the hell to try? Oh, alcohol and drugs Deaden the pain but never really end it.
And then the sympathy. No one knows quite what to say Except they're sorry. What good does THAT do anyone?
And then the guilty looks, The mutterings in the corner. You know they had a thing together.
Love's so close to death it always hurts. Being loved is almost the same as dying. Both love and death always leave you crying.
Don't get me wrong, you can find happy love, And there's no joy greater than that in life, But it's still just the other side of death.
If you don't care, Grow yourself into a shell of hardness, That won't get you through it.
I know, I tried. After she died I tried everything I knew.
There's no drink, no drug, No joy, no love, No hope, no nothing.
Nothing can get you through. You just exist in a crazy blur Of fog that almost drowns you.
And you immure Yourself Inside a vault of coldness.
Does it ever change? Oh, sure, it does, Taking every second at a time.
And then if you're lucky You'll find new hope and joy Like I did.
But for most, that second spring Never comes. I still know The parents of the girl I loved.
For me, my cold dark winter Lasted four years. For them, a lifetime.
You never get over Being an MVS But you can cope.
Whatever you do Means nothing When your life's already through.
Author notes
This is a true story. When I was not quite 16 my lesbian lover was murdered. I'm still friends with her parents and we both know the pain that murder brings.
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Post by biglin on Feb 5, 2011 12:31:02 GMT -5
I wrote this for a friend of mine who was self-conscious about her weight.
They say that wild beauty comes in all shapes and sizes, And just being big don't mean you can't win prizes. If you want to fiddle Like in ancient Rome Nero It's more fun with a real girl Than with a size zero.
You've got a nice rear And that pleases the guys; Your breasts are are so sheer They can't help catch the eyes. You're a whole lot of woman For someone to love, And you're soft and you're human So heavens above Who gives a canned fart? You're a real work of art
Does writing erotic stuff Make you a whore Just a quick bit of fluff For a roll on the floor? Hell, no way, Jose Or should that be No way oy veh For the lovely Josie?
You're kind and you're funny: You're cool and courageous; You're warm and you're sunny And sometimes outrageous.
Whatever you want You can be what you like Just not being gaunt Don't make you the town bike
Let them as wants skinny Look at just what they're missing, A face that's pretty, Tender hugging and kissing, Eat your heart out, you models: Josie's no ninny; She's clever and witty And so it's a doddle That stuck side by side Where a guy has to choose One of you for his bride She'll win and you'll lose!
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Post by biglin on Feb 6, 2011 16:40:16 GMT -5
The Waterfall
By Linda Marshall
It looks like a shining, shimmering wall of glass
Similar to a pretty lass
Looking into her looking-glass;
It flirts and quabbles
With the rocks it passes.
It is the magnificent queen of the countryside
Never slowing in its stride
Or its pride;
It towers over everything
Like a churchbell in full ring.
If you look at it long enough
It will turn you into a trance
With the liquid dance
Of its watery plough
A mass of water alive in all its glory:
If it could talk, how wonderful the story!
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Post by biglin on Feb 18, 2011 17:31:14 GMT -5
Meg, A Memory
"It has been said that time heals all wounds. I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue, and the pain lessens, but it is never gone."
Time, the healer of wounds, never healed the scars that lurk, sleeping sometimes, inside hidden at the edges of the mind and the borders of what was once a heart
maybe a soul who knows
in a time of grief beyond belief and beyond relief
the one i loved was taken not by the angels to sleep at peace with God but by a man coldly and with destroying hand
he cut her throat and stabbed her
so she who once had been the real deal the complete epitome of life itself
lay lifeless in the wood while all around her the forest teemed with life
time heals no wounds like that
unless a cold dead heart
forgets how to grieve forgets the love that lingered there on tongues and fingers
forgets
even life itself
as life abandoned you
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Post by biglin on May 6, 2011 16:05:12 GMT -5
The Sirens
I sang for you, In a sea that rocked Your ship to sleep
I sang of love Your heart was colder then Than the ice-water of the sub-zero sea
And you came to me In the manner of a furtive schoolboy Screwing the local scrubber for a dare In the disused air-raid shelter But you came Not yet out of short trousers.
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Post by biglin on May 7, 2011 19:14:55 GMT -5
Love’s Heights
Where is the love which for so long I am searching? Where may that love that I so long for be? In the heart of a man who loves this street-urchin, And swears he loves only me.
My tears are dried And I full of pride As he takes me for his bride.
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