My Poetry - The Dance



  MY POETRY – THE DANCE

  BY TOMAS CODY

  My Poetry – The Dance

  Copyright 2015 Tomas Cody

  1st Edition

  To those I have wrote about this one’s for you.

  No matter what happened, what went wrong and what went right, we dance and O what a dance it was.

  TABLE OF CONTENT

  Versions

  Me

  Me & The Library

  Limencello After Dark

  Things We Have In Common You And Me

  Things That Made It All Go Wrong

  Things To Be Thankful For

  The Numbers Game

  Stan

  Rosie O’Donnell

  A Kiss On The Lips

  Billy Bob And Janey

  Hanley Bus Station

  If I Were A Man

  Door / Key

  My Old Sparring Partner

  The Dance

  The Girl With The Bright Blue Eyes

  I Only Lie

  Ginerva

  Just Get The Car

  The Girl With The Pale Blue Eyes

  Nana (I)

  The Weeping Willow

  The Things That I Love About You

  Megalomania

  My Poetry’s No Good

  About The Author

  Versions

  Version one

  We made our way from the primordial slime,

  Out of the sea we learnt to crawl,

  From four legs to two was our progression,

  Up in the trees we made our home.

  As the great lizards lived and died,

  We watched, neutral observers waiting.

  The Neanderthal began to pave our way,

  And all the time we were watching.

  As they danced!

  Version two

  We learnt how to live side by side,

  Out of necessity conversation sprang,

  The light in the sky became our first religion,

  As we discovered a need to celebrate,

  So with our voices we experimented,

  And eventually we discovered how to sing,

  Our voices they took over our bodies,

  Until we found we couldn’t stop ourselves.

  We learned to dance!

  Version three

  As we grew we learned to cultivate,

  And slowly we became masters of the land,

  Strong men were born who were destined to rule,

  As democracy was born we called them kings,

  They weren’t the first to discover lust,

  But still we followed them off to war,

  They taught us what it was to kill,

  Back home our families learnt to mourn.

  As they danced!

  Version four

  Religion prospered crusades were born

  All centred upon a single man,

  On our travels we saw many wonders,

  As we ravaged through their lands,

  In an effort to spread our message,

  Many strangers we chanced upon,

  Their ways were different to our eyes,

  But in one thing we were just like them.

  We watched them dance!

  Version five

  We mastered art called it our renaissance,

  Masterpieces never yet outdone,

  And one man dreamed of our future,

  Showed us his drawings of what was to be.

  We sailed the globe discovered continents,

  And those we met we accused of blasphemy,

  But our cruelty we didn’t limit,

  We still found time to burn heretics at home.

  We forgot to dance!

  Version six

  The dawn of a new age an age of industry,

  Inventions blossomed led by our dear old Jenny,

  We colonised and noted the conquered,

  The lost souls who brought about the missionary.

  A queen sat astride a bountiful empire,

  While urchins littered the streets at home,

  A man dared to defy the sacred scriptures,

  He made us question where we belonged.

  And so we danced!

  Version seven

  Now the pace gets faster the longer we live,

  Great wars we fought not one but two,

  Developing weapons of mass destruction,

  As we became masters of the skies,

  Our ambitions which were never sated,

  Led us to the moon now we search the stars,

  Hopefully exploring looking for brothers,

  To whom one question we will ask.

  Do you dance?

  Me

  An interesting question was once asked of me,

  If you weren’t who you are who would you like to be?

  I thought about it for a second and then asked the rules,

  Could I be make believe, famous or just a kid from school?

  Could I be King of a country a long way from here?

  A saviour of millions discoverer of a panacea.

  Could I be a spaceman looking down upon our Earth?

  Or a hero from legends battling a tyrant’s curse.

  I could be Johnny Britain, Gary Buxton or just Ian Miller,

  Do you ever wonder what it would feel like to be a killer?

  Everywhere there’s a villain, lover or hero I’d like to be,

  But only for a day because I’m happy being me.

  Me & the Library

  I met myself the three bears,

  And little red riding hood,

  I met myself the Dark Lord,

  And knew he was up to no good.

  I met myself King Arthur,

  And his knights of the round table,

  I met myself brave Hercules,

  Read each of those Greek fables.

  I met myself a superhero,

  Met myself St George,

  I met myself that preacher man,

  Memorised his every word!

  I met myself a red headed girl,

  At the end of science fiction,

  I met myself her mother,

  As we were kissing in her kitchen!

  I met myself many teachers,

  Who taught me about life,

  I met myself a lover,

  Who became my wife.

  You gave me so much,

  I met myself memories,

  And in each there you are,

  I met myself me!

  Limoncello After Dark

  Summer on the coast

  Lemon blossom in the air

  Strangers holding hands

  At the start of their affair

  I watch the sun go down

  Like it did on my heart

  Nowhere left to go

  But limoncello after dark

  Watching the local girls

  Wondering what it’d be like

  To pick one of them up

  Take them to my bed tonight

  But I watch the sun go down

  And ease my broken heart

  Sitting on the coast

  With limoncello after dark

  Lovers on the beach

  Walking hand in hand

  I watch them disappear

  Down amongst the sand

  Do you remember once

  Back then at the start

  You took me by the hand

  And then we drank limoncello after dark

  Summers passing on

  The lemon blossoms no longer there

  Strangers shouting in the street

  At the end of their affair

  The sun is finally setting

  Like it did on my heart

  Now I?
??ve only memories

  Of limoncello after dark

  Things We Have in Common You and Me

  The Dogs,

  Love of literature – Anne Rice,

  Making out,

  Sushi – fish and rice,

  A longing to travel,

  You did I never could,

  Discoveries,

  I did, you thought you should.

  Harold the hedgehog,

  Does he still travel with you?

  Dreams,

  Did yours ever come true?

  Memories,

  That’s all that’s left to us now,

  Memories,

  What are you thinking now?

  Things That Made It All Go Wrong

  Lies,

  I should have never said what I did,

  Unfaithful,

  I knew the truth but never said,

  Fear,

  I couldn’t see an end,

  Scared of commitment,

  I went with your best friend.

  University life,

  Would it have been the same?

  Us growing up,

  Learning life’s not a game,

  Excess baggage,

  I hadn’t learned to let go,

  Your friends,

  They didn’t like me, didn’t you know?

  Things We Have to be Thankful For

  We’re alive,

  It’s a miracle I know,

  Drugs,

  Should have killed us both by now,

  You’re a pilot,

  You always wanted to fly,

  See the world,

  And I always asked you why?

  I’m married,

  I thought it would be to you,

  I’m glad,

  We both know I wouldn’t be true,

  I’m in love,

  And I hope it’s the same for you,

  Memories,

  We’ll always have that me and you.

  The Numbers Game

  I apologise but I forgot your number,

  Was it one two eight or maybe one two nine?

  Why did always matter so much?

  I was never able to see my crime,

  In your mind there was always a thought,

  About all of those that came before,

  Would it have ended up differently?

  If you had been number three or four.

  Let us say because my memory fades,

  That you were number one two eight,

  Was it a number lying dormant?

  A seed of doubt ready to germinate,

  Was it the cause or just a factor?

  Why trust was scarce you could never forgive,

  The way I was, was what you wanted,

  But with out the baggage that showed I’d lived.

  And if I’ve forgotten a brief encounter,

  Would it matter you were now one two nine?

  Would I have looked to you any different?

  My chequered past adding to my crime,

  For me it was all about the present,

  Yet you were fixated on the past,

  We both knew you could never be the first,

  But I hoped you would be the last.

  To you, you were just another number,

  Whilst I to you were number one,

  And that was always held against me,

  As if my past could somehow be undone,

  You saw excitement where I knew the truth,

  In the past I fought to leave behind,

  My mistakes you all but coveted,

  Wondering what you would find.

  We parted because of the numbers,

  I hope you didn’t realise too late,

  That experience is not always adventure,

  Excitement can turn to self-hate,

  The dance can become an addiction,

  Pleasures won in the sleepless night,

  Become nothing more than recriminations,

  As darkness turns to morning light!

  Stan

  That old house sitting on top of Penkhull hill,

  Were you resided, I can see it, I remember it still,

  My brother had a paper round that went past your gate,

  And my granddad would stop and I’d ask him why he’d wait,

  Sitting in that house my granddad would say to me,

  Is a wizard I first saw when I was just seventeen,

  With forty thousand worshippers I went to see the man,

  That the world remembers today simply as Stan.

  Fags! Brylcream!

  A wizard on the wing!

  There’s only one Stanley Matthews,

  Is what the Boothen End would sing.

  He told me how he roared one amongst a crowd,

  Each time you left the full back sitting on the ground,

  How once he saw you running upon Blackpool beach,

  An ordinary man his hero within his reach,

  My granddad said when you left to walk the Golden Mile,

  He cried, along with a city who forgot how to smile,

  My granddad watched you like a lover from afar,

  They knew you had to go but did you know you broke their hearts?

  Fags! Brylcream!

  A wizard on the wing!

  There’s only one Stanley Matthews,

  Is what the Boothen End would sing.

  He listened on the radio in forty eight and fifty one,

  As you fought and lost did you think your chance had gone,

  Then in fifty three a new queen had just been crowned,

  My granddad went to Wembley and stood amongst the crowd,

  Watched you shake your head as the final whistle blew,

  In Mortenson’s final, your father’s dreams came true,

  A gentleman in celebration he watched as you lifted what you had won,

  And he wiped a tear from his eye for the Potteries’ favourite son.

  Fags! Brylcream!

  A wizard on the wing!

  There’s only one Stanley Matthews,

  Is what the Boothen End would sing.

  Little did my granddad realise you’d be coming back,

  To weave your magic one more time lead the Stoke attack,

  Dancing down the wing wearing that famous red and white,

  My granddad’s eyes watered as he told me of the night,

  You said farewell one last time to the Boothen roar,

  On the shoulders of giants did anyone deserve it more?

  So if you looked out your window I hope you forgave the man,

  Talking to a little boy we were just remembering Stan.

  Rosie O’Donnell

  Rosie O’Donnell, the toast of the town,

  The girl with a smile upon her lips,

  Dances with the boy at the end of the bar,

  Leaves him with nothing but a kiss,

  Her name was known in every pub around Stoke,

  Wherever she went they’d raise a glass,

  Hold them high and shout this one’s for you,

  Our darling Rosie god bless!

  A Kiss On The Lips

  Sweet nicotine I’ll miss you once you are gone,

  Like a lover, a friend, a favourite son,

  The black sheep of the family, my sweet cigarette,

  Can I live without you will I learn to forget,

  The caress that you give when I’m feeling down,

  A kiss on my lips, one second of calm.

  I remember our first embrace back in my youth,

  That second when I realised an unmistakable truth,

  No matter how they’d say that you were wrong,

  I knew whatever would happen we’d get along,

  Be friends, confidants, my cigarette and I,

  A kiss on my lips and now a tear in my eye.

  I must say goodbye to a favourite friend,

  A romance I hoped in my youth would never end,

  Like a mistress who poisons me day a
fter night,

  I need to let go though I don’t want to give up the fight,

  I want to take you and hold you bring you to my lips,

  Like a kiss from a lover you’ll always be missed.

  Billy Bob and Janey

  Strange girl sitting all alone,

  So many faces all unknown,

  Uncle Jim won’t let you go to bed,

  You’ve got to do what Uncle Jim said,

  Strange girl feeling so alone.

  Little boy who knew no other way,

  Drank to forget each and every day,

  When it starts you rush towards the fight,

  Just another way to forget tonight,

  Little boy there is no other way.

  Billy Bob and Janey knew their love was true,

  There was nothing for him that she wouldn’t do,

  She held his hand as he pierced the vein,

  Held back the tears as he called her name,

  Billy Bob and Janey knew their love was true.

  Strange girl and a little boy met one night,

  Sat and talked about each others lives,

  Billy Bob talked about his mother,

  Janey cried as she recounted her lovers,

  And then they kissed before they said goodbye.

  Hanley Bus Station

  Windswept and waiting on a cold September’s night,

  Lovers entwined, longing looking out from her eyes,

  He leans a little closer not knowing what to do,

  A first kiss born of innocence, her lips part in a smile.

  A moment to saviour to never forget,

  I never forgot how I never wanted it to end,

  But as the years pass by we all realise,

  Everything finishes even you my old friend.

  Old men telling stories reminiscing about the past,

  In The Albion they sit to remember their lives,

  Surrounded by butt ends and the smell of stale beer,

  And I sit there and drink like I’ve drunk every night.

  A British institution a rite of passage for the young,

  We all take that step the questions only when,

  How many young men? How many have you seen?

  Did you smile upon them like me my old friend?

  The red in the pocket time to line up the black,

  In the Pool Club on Saturday after the match,

  Like many before us we learned to congregate,

  To drink and to play and smoke and to laugh.

  Watching the hustlers, saying no when they ask,

  Learning the lesson then teaching a friend,

  Sometimes I remember as I play pool in a bar,

  And think back to you my old dear friend.

  Shipley’s amusements, Argos and the Electricity Board,

  The little baker’s shop and across the street Mothercare,

  The greasy spoon and my mate’s dad’s paper shop,

  What will become of them when you’re no longer there?

  My memories are many, the girls and the fights,

  Always a place where relationships would end,

  Now you are leaving and some say about time,

  But to me I’ll be mourning the loss of a friend.

  If I Were A Man

  If I were a man,

  Who could change the world,

  Would I change it,

  Or would I get the girl?

  If I had the power,

  To see the whole world free,

  Would I grant it,

  Or would I think just of me?

  I’d like to think,

  I was a man,

  To give up his life,

  Just to save a friend,

  But how do I know,

  Until that time comes,

  If I’d stand and fight,

  Or if I’d turn and run?

  How do I know,

  What’s inside of me,

  To what should I aspire,

  Is there a limit to what I can be?

  How do you tell,

  What you’re doing is right,

  When should you run,

  Tell me when should you fight?

  I’d like to think,

  I was a man,

  But I pray I’ll never find out,

  Just what I am!

  Door / Key

  There’s a door with a key,

  It’s my heart and it’s yours,

  Keep it safe my love for me,

  As I walk through this land,

  Know my thoughts are with you,

  You’re the reason I can believe.

  I remember your touch,

  On my lips as we kissed,

  Your smile as you looked into my eyes,

  The days that we’ve spent,

  Together as if one,

  Every touch, caress, each sleepless night.

  I didn’t believe,

  To me love was just a game,

  To play I never gave it a thought,

  Of the consequences,

  Of the girl by my side,

  And how they might want more.

  There’s a door with a key,

  It’s my heart and it’s yours,

  To cherish or discard as you will,

  Throw it to the ground,

  Crush it underfoot,

  Know that I will love you still.

  My Old Sparring Partner

  The sun was setting on Stoke,

  As we walked the streets hand in hand,

  We promised we’d always be together,

  And then we laughed at what we’d said.

  Some people are meant for each other,

  I thought once maybe that was us,

  I want you, I love you, I need you,

  But god help me I wish you were dead.

  We’d dance in the evening,

  Then fight through the rest of the night,

  In the morning I’d tell you I was sorry,

  And you’d say you were also to blame.

  You’d listen to songs by the Beatles,

  When I wanted to listen to the Stones,

  We’d fight over everything and nothing,

  But I still smile when I hear your name.

  Now do you lie there in the darkness,

  And think about what could have been,

  If our love was more than just an apology,

  To each other at the end of the night.

  I still remember the day that you left,

  We argued with each other one last time,

  You always said you’d fight for our love,

  But we both knew we’d given up the fight.

  So farewell my old sparing partner,

  God bless and good luck in the dance.