Celeste Furnell

Smack and Pills

// April 1st, 2009 // No Comments » // Writing

Jack and Jill have had their fill
of water and brown paper
They’ve sung the song, the vinegars gone
And wounds are healing later

So let’s survey the damage
As we light the film on fire
Feign a memory and
Hang it on the wall

We’re still coming unstuck
Maybe this is all you see
But with any luck
I can put your feet back in this
Distant memory

We’ll feed the fire and clap our hands
Climb the trees that were too high
I’ll laugh as the pot goes to your head
And we steal the sticks that made us cry

Up the hill went Jack and Jill
And water turned to wine until
They both got stuck and ran a mock
And Jill is getting tired

Maybe the vinegar was too sour
And the brown paper too rough
But Jill is trying
While Jack is dying
Nothing is enough
It’s never enough

Jack made rhymes to pass the time
That Jill could only dream
And now he’s there
She’s wondering where
Her tumble could have been

Jack takes a fall, but not at all
Without Jill close behind him
But as he goes, she always knows
That Jewels is soon to find him

Jack and Jill were fine until
Such pretty Jewels could blind him

Warm

// April 1st, 2009 // No Comments » // Writing

The girl with the wild red hair
Her perfume of cloves and cinnamon
With hands wrapped in strings
Wooden bangles and rings
As she sings

In the yellow hum of the sunny streets
She sings
With a crooked smile, and deep green eyes
She sings
The song without words
That nobody knows
And everyone hears
Who comes near
As she sings

The boy with the threads and the beads
In his chocolate locks
Holds the drum with his worn-away knees
As he beats
With the palms of his hands
As she stands
And she sings
He casts a glance and he grins
In the warm yellow glow of the street

And the people, they smile
As the song drifts above them
The beat of the drum
And the lilt in the flow of her tongue
I can see from a distance
As the crowd grows and fades
With the two staying true
To the song that belongs to
the now of their lives
And it can’t be remembered
But won’t be forgotten
The time they were lost in
Was theirs
It was mine
For a time
In the warm yellow glow
Of the street where I stand