Best Armloads Poems
IT TAKES TIME TO SEE THE LIGHT
Death is best taught in the dark
Fetching sticks, setting sparks
Its bag of tricks: sickness and hope
A black curtain vanishes
The magician leaves you with a moonless night
A lonely night without stars
And you work to locate those sparkling crystals
And place them one at a time back in the sky
But tears fall like glass, resetting the progress
You need to accept the inevitable
But no one can do the Impossible
So cling to the possible
Surround yourself with an armloads of friends
Let them take turns dabbing your mascara
As their handkerchiefs turn from white to black
One day you’ll find the moon back in its place
You will wonder how long you missed it
1st Place
4/7/2017
DIDACTIC FORM
Consciousness Correction – 11-20-23
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Consciousness Correction
Envy sneaks in unseen
A thief robbing light from my house of gratitude,
Sowing simmering anger, extinguishing thankfulness,
In blind yellowed views
Gratitude held captive,
Strangled,
Pennies of “I wish” tossed into stone cisterns
Where winter thrashes cyclconic -
Vortex of a gleeful witness to spring’s demise -
Dead-ends swell in jealous broken branches,
Wrapped in near sighted stigmatisms,
Lenses smeared in covet.
Stone citadels rise from my naked spite,
Blind to confessions of incense,
To curl into deep pools
Poisoned by tainted pools of jealousy,
Creeping to the heights of entitled grudges.
Yet nascent vines, fragrant with focal points,
Blooms of correction,
Slip between crumbling buttress mortars,
Sachets illuminate good will
In wreaths of newborn appreciation
That knows its need for candles of kindness
My thankful eyes, that walked in darkness, see
To embrace armloads of miracles come into focus
Reappearing from soot blown corners.
Scales fall in melting flakes
From my bloodshot eyes,
New sight nourished in a corrected wash -
Sweet nectar of reckoning
By a brilliant polestar of clarity magnified
Opaque about-face.
There is happy ado on the old farmstead as Yuletide draws nigh!
Wondrous things to savor as gales blow and snow begins to fly!
The tempest rages for days - they will surely be snowbound,
But a blazing fire warms the Victorian home - love and cheer abound!
Since early in July Pa has had his eye on a special evergreen tree.
It now graces the parlor and they dance about it with glee!
Brightly lit candles adorn branches of the perfectly shape fir.
'Neath lies The Babe - The Magi offering frankincense, gold and myrrh.
The boys have hefted armloads of wood from the oak tree grove,
For Ma and the girls to cook delectable fare on the wood-burning stove.
Titillating aromas waft from room to room in the gracious old house,
From the roasting goose, venison and tender prairie grouse!
Rusty the dog and Simba the cat lie snuggling nigh the fire.
The family gathers 'round the old pump organ for an impromptu choir.
Bellowng off-key, Pa leads them in carols, all ln spirited mirth,
And later by the hearth, Pa reads the story of the Savior's birth.
The ancient grandfather clock tolls ten- the kids are shooed to bed.
Ma and Pa place presents 'neath the tree in old Santa's stead.
With a twinkle in his eyes, Pa steals a kiss 'neath the mistletoe!
The excited kids scarcely snooze listening for Santa's Ho! Ho! Ho!
NOT FOR THE CONTEST
There is happy ado on the old farmstead as Yuletide draws nigh.
Wondrous things to savor as gales blow and snow begins to fly!
The tempest rages for days - they will surely be snowbound,
But a blazing fire warms the old home - love and cheer abound!
Since early in July Pa has had his eye on a special evergreen tree.
It now graces the parlor and they dance about it with glee!
Brightly lit candles adorn branches of the perfectly shaped fir.
'Neath lies the Babe - The Magi offering frankincense, gold and myrrh.
The boys have hefted armloads of wood from the ash tree grove,
For Ma and the girls to cook delectable fare on the wood-burning stove!
Titillating aromas waft from room to room in the gracious old house,
From the roasting goose, venison and tender prairie grouse!
Rusty the dog and Simba the cat lie snuggling near the fire.
The family gathers 'round the pump organ for an impromptu choir.
Bellowing off-key, Pa leads them in carols, all in spirited mirth,
And later by the hearth they hear Pa read about the Savior's Birth!
The ancient grandfather clock tolls ten - the kids are shooed to bed.
Ma and Pa place presents 'neath the tree in old Santa's stead!
With a twinkle in his eyes, Pa steals a kiss 'neath the mistletoe!
The excited kids scarcely snooze listening for Santa's Ho! Ho! Ho!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
The beauty I tell of them
Enjoying the smell of them,
Gathering armloads of roses
In the sweet month of June.
So late in December
It’s hard to remember
The love and the joy in
A June afternoon.
When vows we spoke then,
In June way back when,
The long way before us
Was rose petal strewn
We promised forever
And thought we would never
Grow older, forgetting
The words to our tune.
In my all alone now
I’m wondering just how
Our forever became an
All over so soon.
If I could go back to
The days I first loved you,
I’d cherish and treasure,
And croon our love tune.
But though I am yearning,
There is no returning.
There’s no way December
Brings roses and June.
A CLOSE SHAVE
Shel married a wife with armloads of fur.
He was very unkind, he did beat her.
Smothers - never quits.
Makes her shave her pits.
Smirking, she sharpens her blade on the cur.
4/26/2017
Jan’s Limerick contest - back by popular demand
Quote: Lend me your fire bring me your wings,
surround me and make me feel like I'm standing
on higher ground
Autumn scents, woodsy bark, frissons and joy
me a September baby, at your employ
Send me out into the fields to gather armloads of apples
then teach me how to jump in the leaves and grapple
In the gloaming of nightfall bring your harvest o'er to me
that I may fill my dreams with color , bright and plenty
Gourds, sunflowers, pumpkins and pinecone drops
let me lose myself in your golden crops
Awaken me like a sweet camellia,
be my splendor-Autumn of serenity.
Contest Name: Serenity Awakened
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
August 26, 2020
Mr. Langford owned a candy store that was slow all year round.
Except for Valentine's day when it was filled with spangled eyed lovers
coming in for sweets and armloads of red roses in the shape of hearts.
red as a cherry sweet as a berry
it was Valerie, Mary or Cheri
sherry on the ferry, roses from Gasperi
One day the truck did not deliver the flowers on time. Poor soul sat forlorn to think and before he knew it, he fell asleep. Into his dreams a Cupid came, snapped his fingers 1 2 3 , heartsie flowers everywhere.
Quick now don't you tarry
there are lots of girls to marry
Cupid worked his magic, light and airy
While a watchful eye went up the room was infused with a beautiful scent
Cupid old boy you did it again, now I can pay my rent...
Lany old boy its a trick I deploy
then he sang like a choirboy
a Cherub Pillsbury Doughboy
While the spangled eyed lovers came in once again. To buy sweets
and an armload of roses, dripping with love and little heart shaped buds
the whispered " I love you, do you love me too ?"
Sunlight entered the aquamarine potting shed from the east
Beating the master gardener by a few minutes or steps
Ruffled marigold seeds were waiting to be planted in seedling trays
It was March the fifteenth, an opportune time to get things started
Potting shed was feeling joyfully optimistic
She had been shivery cold for the past three months
Her owner had kept her heat at a steady sixty-seven degrees
Muskrats and field mice had left her crawlspace for warmer places.
Mrs. G. arrived carrying armloads of sacks marked Lowes.
Two gorgeous African violets were pulled out first.
Their purple color was exquisite, they were dark and velvety.
Potting shed felt elated when she saw the floral tool bag
Here was her good friend, Jay, the Japanese hand hoe,
Sheila, the sierrated farmer’s dagger
And Hattie, the shiny new trowel – were all eager to talk.
Mrs. G. worked with fresh new dirt and pots for five hours.
The second she left the whispering began.
The tools had been shoved into a closet.
They had not seen much, but they had heard a lot.
Potting Shed sat back and listened to the latest gossip.
Shoulders of lead
Toothpicks for lids
Iris in aqua
in sensory grids
Moments of hours
Breathing to spin
Voyage of brainwaves
to spiral me in
Black and white memories
airbrushed in blue
One of the hour
on the day I met you
Sensory sleeping
there by my side
with armloads of toothpicks
and eyes open wide
Waking is stagnant
except when in dreams
where waking is not
quite as bad as it seems
Tops are just bottoms
and bottoms are tops
to taste and to hear
'till the orchestra stops
They will play on
while we swallow the sky
with a laugh as we blink
we've got blue in our eyes
Shoulders of lead
Toothpicks for eyes
to dream stay awake
brings your tears to my eyes...
I've never yet become so brave
To come and visit at your grave
Though in times past sweet gifts
I brought, for you, for love,
And not for naught
Armloads of the
Brightest flowers
I'd call, or visit
Hours...ours
But then they laid you
Down to sleep
And prayed
The Lord
Your soul
To keep
I cannot say I was unfeeling
For your death......
has
Left me reeling
And yet.....
I've never
Been that brave
To come and
Visit at your
Grave