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Sammy Im Sorry

sammy im sorry
sorry i didnt agree to being yours sooner
sorry for not telling you i loved you straight away
Sammy im sorry
sorry for causing you alot of pain
sorry for being the reason you couldnt see your daughter
Sammy im sorry
sorry i couldnt believe you when you first said i love you
sorry i made us argue so much over nothing
Sammy im sorry
sorry i was so moody when you wernt around
sorry i missed you so much
Sammy im sorry
sorry i never said goodbye
sorry i never accepted you were dying
Sammy im sorry
sorry i couldnt be by your side when it happened
sorry you had to handle it all on your own
Sammy im sorry
sorry your sisters are alone now

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poem by Rachel BaByBeAr Anderson
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Northern Farmer: New Style

Dosn't thou 'ear my 'erse's legs, as they canters awaäy?
Proputty, proputty, proputty--that's what I 'ears 'em saäy.
Proputty, proputty, proputty--Sam, thou's an ass for thy paaïns:
Theer's moor sense i' one o' 'is legs, nor in all thy braaïns.
Woä--theer's a craw to pluck wi' tha, Sam; yon 's parson's 'ouse--
Dosn't thou knaw that a man mun be eäther a man or a mouse?
Time to think on it then; for thou'll be twenty to weeäk.
Proputty, proputty--woä then, woä--let ma 'ear mysén speäk.
Me an' thy muther, Sammy, 'as been a'talkin' o' thee;
Thou's beän talkin' to muther, an' she beän a tellin' it me.
Thou'll not marry for munny--thou's sweet upo' parson's lass--
Noä--thou 'll marry for luvv--an' we boäth of us thinks tha an ass.

Seeä'd her todaäy goä by--Saäint's-daäy--they was ringing the bells.
She's a beauty, thou thinks--an' soä is scoors o' gells,
Them as 'as munny an' all--wot's a beauty?--the flower as blaws.
But proputty, proputty sticks, an' proputty, proputty graws.

Do'ant be stunt; taäke time. I knaws what maäkes tha sa mad.
Warn't I craäzed fur the lasses mysén when I wur a lad?

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poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Fast Forward

one thing then another

one story then another conversation
always interrupted by another conversation

I want the words to barely glaze the page
gone the moment of their utterance

as we are

I want

in back of this a story a man with his face with his name
exile emigrant refugee displaced person outsider offcomerdon stranger suspect
the terms interchangeable politically undesireable
a story of a man who leaves his country

and the woman he loves

and the story of why

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poem by Ken Smith
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One dark night

I hang a dried porcupine fish on the ceiling,
And with a nylon thread, in the dark, it looks like it is having a nice swim in the air.
I didn’t mind it has taken life, and so

When friend Sammy drops by,
He calls it art.
Inside me, it is what I call myself, an air porcupine; I love the spines all over me,
So no one touches me, and I would hurt everyone near me,
I call it my life, what does Sammy know anyway, except a claim for art,
One dark night, the porcupine fish got carried about his swim
And plunged into my open mouth and clogged my heart, I struggled for breath
From then on the nightmare did not stop…. life moves on with the porcupine fish.
How would Sammy know that art has coarsely etched life? The spines all over me,
The porcupine swimming in my belly, my chest congested, my tongue tied, my teeth gritting, my heart bleeding in a hundred pains with a hundred wounds.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sam's Ring

The other day our Sammy
Did a very silly thing:
She bought a can of pop
And then she swallowed up the ring!
We took her off to hospital,
So she could be x-rayed;
They couldn't find the blessed thing
But Sammy weren't afraid.

The radiographer she saw
Showed Mandy, (that's Sam's mum)
The picture of her insides,
From top, to tail, to tum;
She pointed out her organs
Just like a guided tour;
But where the ring had got to,
She couldn't say for sure.

There seemed no point in searching,
She said we'd have to wait

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poem by John Carter Brown
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After Sammy Left.

Dottie has the made the
bed where Sammy slept,
bakes a cake, picks flowers
from the garden to put in
the small vase on the table.

Sammy has gone away
after his three day stay.

Willie's asleep in bed,
his window open to catch
dawn birdsong, smell of
flowers, air's heavy scent.

She pops a pill that Sammy
left; will help you sleep he
said, during their late evening
walk in the nearby woods,
as Willie recited his poetry.

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poem by Terry Collett
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Dottie Stirs at Dawn

Dottie stirs as dawn light seeps
through the bedroom curtains;
Willie breathes deeply in his sleep.

Sammy, who had arrived with
her brother Willie the night before,
sleeps in the guest room along
the passage. She listens to the birds
singing from the garden, watches
as the seeping sunlight plays on
the duvet covers like mischievous
children. She is happy; Willie is back,
Sammy has arrived with his talk of
the city, his books, the poems, but
nothing of his wife or son or daughter.

They had been up late with talk and
laughter and she had studied Sammy,
and was, she admits to herself, a little
envious of his wife to have one such

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poem by Terry Collett
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How Polly Paid For Her Keep

Do I know Polly Brown? Do I know her? Why,
damme,
You might as well ask if I know my own name?
It's a wonder you never heard tell of old Sammy,
Her father, my mate in the Crackenback claim.

He asks if I know little Poll! Why, I nursed her
As often, I reckon as old Mother Brown
When they lived at the “Flats,” and old Sam
went a burster
In Chinaman's Gully, and dropped every crown.

My golden-haired mate, ever brimful of folly
And childish conceit, and yet ready to rest
Contented beside me, 'twas I who taught Polly
To handle four horses along with the best.

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poem by Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
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When Liza Minelli was a child, she used to sit on my lap and call me Uncle Sammy.

quote by Sammy Davis, Jr.
Added by Lucian Velea
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Is It Real?

Is it real?

3 cats thrill.

Sammy, Charlie and Bill.

Sammy says, I think it's real.

Bill says, Put her on the grill!

Charlie says,

It's just a painting, Bill.

poem by Philo Yan
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