A Rap, Of Sorts

I spy a girl walking down the street
she's black and blue and she ain't upbeat
her eyes hang low, you can see the grey lids:
hey girl, how did you get into this?
She ain't that old, she might be young
there's a hint that she may once more be strong
but her eyes look down, you can see the grey lids:
hey girl, how did you get into this?
She's thin as a discarded garden rake -
she probably knew what was at stake
when she went for the Right that turned out Wrong;
hey girl, come with me and sing my song;
but before you do take a look at you
are you seeing what a stranger is gonna see too?
Can you feel the pulse, can you fell the beat
did you ever enjoy that bang-bang heat
and do you belong within this sad scheme
do you think it's really your only thing?
Hey banged-up girl, come along and see
just how things are if you'll listen to me....


The world, my friend, is a magic place
and you, girl, have the most beautifuul face
and, I would guess, a heart the same.
It's time to enjoy a different game -
come, walk with me, hold your head up high;
bring on that smile, put away that sigh;
you're safe with me, I will see you through.
(Is there anything else I can say to you?)
I can't tell jokes - cannot make you smile
quite in that way. But, see, all the while
I'm thinking (inwardly of course)
of some, or any different, improved recourse
for you to see the 'yourself' within.
Those brown-green eyes, so hung and dimmed
will brighten up as your life awakes.
Friend, I want to say - for heaven's sake,
just take a look at the world around;
forbid your feet to touch the ground!
But just for now, it's in slow motion.
You have my care and a friend's devotion
andI wish but for just one thing in return;
a come-back to yourself. You will. You'll learn,
and sparks will return within those eyes
to a world of endless joy, suprise;
but while your mind is switched off so firmly, love
you will not see those blue skies above.

Hold your head up high as you walk with me
and soon it will come quite naturally
and your emtions will follow your head
and you'll see that life is good instead
of allowing it all to pass you by;
you'll laugh and dance and, no more to cry;
unique and true life will follow on;

And then, my friend, my work is done.

by Tara McH

Comments (9)

Kelly, This one is particularly significant for me. My younger brother had a picture of Fountain's Abbey on his wall. He loved that photograph, stark in black and white. But strong and such a powerful presence - and contrast to the messy clothes and mechano pieces and rails of electric trains we had to pick our way over to reach his bed. This is a stunning poem which takes the reader back to the abbey as it must have been - perfectly penned and awash with fascinating images of yesterday. Thanks for sharing it. love, Allie xxxxxxxx
A great vision! Brilliant poem, Patrick
love the last part...................................
Like Sandra I'm in awe too! Having just discovered you I'm spellbound! Your poems are inspirational and provide a clear and definate view. Well crafted!
You are the master. This is simply beautiful and poetic. You captured it all. Thank you for the talent that you are so willing to share. As always, I am in awe.
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