Best Bench Poems
The Park Bench
I wish I was a poet
With magical words
To make people see all of the absurd
Tears fly, paintings in pastel die
When we look into our mirrors
We sometimes miss
What love dumps upon all of us
We shed tears, for we forgot to shed fears
I have no legs, nor any crutches
So my voyage has ended
I only observe
Sadness upended
When goodness is confused
When gestures are refused
When the kiss that could have been
When a poets tear seems obscene
The one who hears is often deaf
The deaf sometimes have nothing left
If I could give a kiss away
I would give it to lovers with hearts that sway
Drawing love on paper in may
just like their love of fifty years
that they held very dear
the lilies and the irises
looked radiant that year.
they had no need to prove their love
just a knowing glance instead
and a gentle squeeze when holding hands
beside their flower bed.
when both felt tired from bending down
and working in the heat
they spoke of seeds and bulbs and things
drinking tea upon the seat.
having rid the soil of all the weeds
he hoed and raked the earth.
the yellow line of daffodils
spoke more than words were worth.
and when their lawn was cloaked in leaves
from the sycamore above
they cursed and sighed just being themselves
in the autumn of their love.
and as he sat there mourning
the passing of his wife
he looked upon the garden as
A CELEBRATION
of her life.
An empty bench is never homeless~
as it shelters golden prints
of amethyst heartbeats,
engraved as souvenirs,
for whatever tomorrow's
dawn may bestow.
I was sitting on a bench, by the sunshine being drenched
When a strange situation took place
Someone sat next to me; from where he came I didn’t see
And I couldn’t get a good look at his face
Then he whispered in my ear, “Do you know why I am here”
And strangely, I thought that I might
I sensed his presence once before, standing in the bedroom door
When my father passed away in the night
I listened to a distant drum, knowing that my time had come
And asked if I could just bask a little longer
He said, “That beating is your heart, the journey we did start”
And I felt his grasp get a little stronger
They found me slumped on that bench and in my hand I had clenched
The pocket watch I inherited from Dad
Time means nothing more to me, now that I am history
Now my son has the watch we once had
(16/03/2013)
I’ve tangled my pointer with my hair
While looking up to gaze on the smiling sun
Over hundred times,
On a bench,
Waiting for your presence
I’ve become boredom conqueror
And unearthed those buried stones under
After I’ve had enough of my android,
On a bench,
You’re still not here
I’ve sent the sun home
And kissed the clouds goodbye
I’ve lost my spirit
And sighed out my stupidity,
Off that bench,
You’re a disappointment
There's a bench at the high school where I graduated
The wood is cracked, chipped and all weather faded
But in its prime, there each morning faces smiled hello greetings
And was always the agreed upon place, for after school meetings
Many then, lovers initials are carved upon her wood
Though young love didn't last like we thought it could
Also, many peace signs and let's stop Vietnam
Even, one I love John Denver and a, I rule at pac man
Under her bottom is petrified gum of every flavor
Stuck there, because gum in class was considered bad behavior
Like some people need but one name to be known
The Bench, was like a city of its very own....
©Donna Jones
Originally posted 3-19-2013, On A Bench Contest
Hidden past the highway bend,
a bench clings to a shallow cliff
above a beach where banks extend
across the bay in sandy drifts.
When tides are low, the sea withdraws,
to flaunt the treasured ocean floor,
and anyone can walk across
the sand to reach the other shore.
With green paint peeling like old flesh,
the bench is baked in salt and sun.
Remember when the paint was fresh,
and in your arms I came undone?
From here, we watch the water snag
in grooves of sand like buried mirrors.
The sky is pink as sunlight fades.
Come close, my love, I need you nearer.
*This poem is based on the green bench (yes, it really exists!) at Sand Dollar Beach, located in the Rose Bay area of Nova Scotia, Canada
a fine mist quiets the forest floor,
an acorn drops from above,
with a thud
a crisp oak leaf spirals,
gently to the ground
a burbling brook,
feeds it's trout
in a while, my heart joins in
.... and worries drift away
Sitting On a Park Bench
As I’m sitting on a park bench, my heart does quench for you
Watching the birds fly, in the corner of my eye there’s a view
A soft light a soft voice, I make my choice that I always knew
You made your call, tried to break my wall your right on cue
I still need you Lord; I’m onboard to see your love come thru
In streets of gold; I behold infinite wisdom within eyes of blue
I still need you Lord; to mold my broken heart and start anew
Your light is my sight; help me see amidst the darkest avenue
Like the Sun needs its day...I need you
Like the flowers need their sway...I need you
Like the blackness needs its gray...I need you
Like the aroma needs its bouquet...I need you
Like the mountains need their sky...I need you
Like the leaving need their bye...I need you
Like the birds need their fly...I need you
Like my tears need their dry...I need you
I’ll never forget that memorable day...
Sitting on a park bench with the Lord I began to pray...
Lord, I need you, now more than ever...
I never meant for our love to sever...
And the Lord said...
From time to time you have abandoned me...
For through out all of time, I shall never abandon you...
Even through out eternity...
‘Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy Name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us
from evil. For thine is the kingdom and the power, and the glory,
for ever and ever. Amen.’
Aug.23.2017
Why Do I Need You Lord
Sponsored by: James Edward Lee Sr.
Cloaked in beige, the park awaits new dusk-time
and there again owlets will start to chime,
through gentle rain, silence lays all around
while leaves russet glide unto Autumn’s ground
as maples hide their flesh in lean display
where twigs imbed the gangly stems like hay
to shred reams of petals, a torn bouquet.
Yet a wooden bench glows , scenting deep night
As love bestows an oath of fate’s delight;
in September’s innate grace, one kiss, two hops
enshrining wrapped embrace through clear dewdrops
while Fall’s bench cradles woven dreams with finesse,
a season of devotion, of stars that bless
this fond appeal to grasp eternity
into all cycle’s reels, evermore free.
................
Isaiah Zerbst’s Interlocking Rhyme Contest
By nette onclaud 1/25/2015
Christmas Eve Mystery
The sun had set, and it was Christmas Eve.
Dear Santa finished up and packed the sleigh;
made sure his Reindeer were geared up to go
before they'd have some time outside to play.
Now it was time to go to North Pole Park,
for there they'd snack on greens below the snow,
and run and prance to loosen up their legs
for galloping through space 'neath moonlit glow.
There, Santa rested on his favored bench;
'tween nodding, saw them romping everywhere.
However, Rudolph proudly stood on guard
beside him watching with protective care.
But soon enough, except for one, they'd fled;
whichever way they looked, none to be found!
Rudolph and Santa surely seemed upset...
yelled out each name in hopes they'd come around.
Before long, darkness fell upon the park.
Did Santa's deer come back to join the team?
Yes...every precious gift arrived on time.
'Twas only Santa's 'forty winks' bad dream!
December 10, 2018
For the Contest, "The Park Bench At Christmas",
sponsored by Sara Kendrick, based on Picture #3
I'm a park bench put here for people's well being. I don't sing or dance, talk or walk, but simply wait. I have been placed near a Christmas tree for many to see. They always decorate and light up the tree and maybe even me. There's beauty all around, but sometimes needy people swing by. Like this man, many homeless ones have come to sit and think about their plight or about their many childhood Christmases, and start to cry. I sit and wait for them to recline and rest themselves from themselves because it's not always what others have done to them. And I don't quiz them about their lives and adverse circumstances that may have treated them coldly. Through rain or shine, sleet or snow, whether male or female, adult or teen, I am here for them. To me, they will often come, discouraged and tired, so trusting enough to fall asleep on me. As they sleep, sometimes in the cold, many will pause and stare but will not give even a care. Still, others will dare to stop and say, "What a shame, but what can I do?", and walk on by. But there are those who will inquire and lend to them a helping hand, showing a little love. Anyway, I just wanted to say, "I'm neither Miss Liberty nor Santa Clause; I'm just a Park Bench for you when you need someone to lean on.
11222018PoSoupContest, The Park Bench At Christmas. Sara Kendrick, Picture #1, Man sleeping on a park bench. 1P
a large old gnarled bench
by a much older gnarled tree
where the old men sit to dream
of happy boyhoods
love was foremost in their minds
now keeping awake is hard
5-7-7-5-7-7
(L)ove
(I)s
(F)or
(E)ternity
~~A co-creation with my girlfriend ~~
How stone-black is the park at will
And frail is the twilight
That glimmers across an uphill
Yet teardrops roll, all decked in white.
~
Later, amidst the evening rain
When hours drift in repose
The pounding lash of time contains
A bench without a rose.
Contest , Brian's Select B