Best Bernadette Poems
Bernadette and Juliet
Alone, alone in her mind
as she sleeps comfortably
now alone permanently
as she drifts away un-noticed
Was it Bernadette or Juliet
that flew away
as the designer was given
a one thousand gun salute
As the glittering buttons
of a non-existent dress
grabs many headlines
allows many excuses to forget
So the role models fling their false tears
not speaking to, not noticing
the unplanned photographers,
Tv cameras that the PR people sent
As our models of hope
are wrenched apart
their love still untouched
by the ravages of the real? world
And all that is left is a world
that can't look smart, that will find
something else to pay ten grand for
in a world with one fewer true love's passion
Form:
Golden Roses
...to one who has faith, no explanation is necessary...to one without faith, no explanation is possible...Thomas Aquinas.
Roses side by side where the grotto stood
A golden garden not seen by their eyes
Bernadette could see as she gathered wood
Kneeling upon hearing of heaven’s cries
A Lady did appear in rose bush wild
A seraphic voice with no deception
With a white dress and girdle gently smiled
‘I am the Immaculate Conception’
For the town of Lourdes was quick to demean
Sadly scoffed as the poorest peasant girl
She dug a hole and a well would canteen
To make believers of the crippled churl
Bernadette let your song of roses hum
Upon this let processions hither come.
Aug.17.2018
New Sonnets Only
Only English Sonnets Are Acceptable
(Fourteen lines, ten syllables per line - abab cdcd efef gg rhyming scheme.)
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
Video clip from the movie"The Song of Bernadette"
N/A for contest
Entertainment tonight;
It's alright;
Entertainment tonight;
Out of sight;
Woo oh oh, we're here to entertain you;
We've got entertainment media news;
Music, and fashions dresses pants and shoes;
We got the scoop on the latest Hollywood news;
We're here to entertain you;
Entertainment tonight;
it's alright;
Entertainment tonight;
Out of sight;
woo oh oh, we're here to entertain you;
We've got Isaac Hayes, even Bernadette Peters hey, hey, hey;
We'll comment on Big Albert, and even Willie Mayes;
Got the gossip and views on whose marring who. . .
Woo oh oh, we're here to entertain you;
Entertainment tonight, it's alright;
entertainment tonight, out of sight;
woo oh oh, we're here to entertain you;
Words sung or vocalized to the music, original theme music from the 1981 era
06/09/85
Lyrics written by James Edward Lee Sr. ©1985, 2018
Composed music by Michael Mark
Bernadette prayed,
wore straw knee pads
and
built a cathedral incarnate.
Remains of the glorified were
sun baked shingles upon her roof.
Beaded mercy chips
and
pieces of blessed palms
sewn by dainty hands;
her mausoleum.
Visionary lass -
the divine enchantress
taught you to devour
a million agonies
and
digest the callous sins
of modern day charlatans -
who foolishly attributed
your pious actions
to
telltale symptoms of
manic depression.
Bernadette, ex-midinette,
now leaving Paris:
shop-girl day before.
Paris takes long time to leave,
with all the arrondissements...
Bernadette, ex-midinette
swaps shop-girl airs
for country air.
Paris now seen distantly:
the Eiffel Tower.
Perfect future lies in front
near Lille, or similar.
Shop-girl the day before.
Tells me not to harp on this
and holds up middle finger.
***************************
A midinette is a Parisian shop-girl.
5/1/2015
Cold gray stone that stands so right please watch over my love tonight.
For she was taken from my side on that cold November ride.
Early on the snow did fall quickly it covered all.
The wind howled with deep regret for the loss of my love my dearest Bernadette.
As the carriage started its slide I held her close and looked into her eyes.
Deep within her heart I could see all the love she held for me.
Alone now I stand through this life, alone with my tears my heart in strife.
Cold gray stone that stands so right please watch over my love tonight.
JSergi
written 11/5/2013
Contest: New Poets of Soup
1858
Southwestern France
Mother Mary appeared 18 times
Young woman Bernadette Soubirous
Announcing: “I am the Immaculate Conception”
Mother Mary helped Bernadette
Discover a hidden spring of grotto
That Spring was soon to become
Fountain of faith, hope
Healing for millions of pilgrims
Lourdes, truly a place of healing
Church recognizes 66 miraculous cures there
Thousands more have been reported
Lourdes a place they found peace
In coming to understand
Accept Eternal God’s will for them
To all who are sick in body and spirit
The Lord brings hope
Comfort through Our Lady of Lourdes
I want to run away
from the stares
when our friends
don’t see you there
Instead I walk confidently
like I don’t care
But inside
I feel like life’s unfair
Why did I believe you
when you said
we’d always be a pair
I tried
I begged and pleaded
Yet you pulled away
said I wasn’t what you needed
So down a different path
we both retreated
The outcome not my choice
it couldn’t be debated
All those years together
feel like they’ve been wasted
I guess for you
somehow love faded
Still a broken heart
can do more than weep
It can rise up
and walk down a different street
It can savour life without you
there are new people to meet
I have places to go
and meals to eat
There are others
who will quicken
my heart beat
I choose a life that's sweet
No girl
it’s not easy being through
I can’t ever forget you
If only you had meant it
when you said “I do”
Now my horizon is empty
I've lost my perfect view
You were the North Star
that I was guided too
All those moments
felt like they were far to few
Was it all just an illusion
did I ever really know you
It seems in this case
True North wasn't true
to the south
off you flew.
Fictional account inspired by
Bernadette Mullick’s poem
titled BTS Dedication.
RAJARAM RAMACHANDRAN, YOU WILL BE MISSED FOREVER
You’ve left a legacy, a treasure to cherish,
The words of wisdom, the priceless pearls,
Each letter embedded with love and care,
For all the fellow beings, the loving souls!
Spreading cheer abound, filling hearts with joy,
The depth of the ocean delving deep in purity, wisdom,
A seeker of truth, a philosopher, a thinker,
The highest realms of the consciousness, pinnacles reached!
The scriptures enlivened, the epics mastered,
The Ramayana, The Mahabharata, The Holy Bible, The Krishna Leela,
Blessings showered from the Divine, the Grace,
Offering the poetry at the Lotus feet of the Lord!
The greatest humans, the purest souls,
Revered, honoured in your words galore,
Gautama Buddha, Harichandra, Adi Sankara, Saint Thyagaraja,
Swami Vivekananda, Mother Teresa, Saint Bernadette Sobirous!
A master of letters with expertise, finesse,
A devotee of Krishna, the mellifluous tunes that you sung,
From the depth of your heart, from the core of your soul,
Shedding off all darkness, dissipating ignorance!
You taught me to live the life to the fullest,
With the brightest smiles sparkling on the way,
The life lessons learnt, the messages spread,
The guidance, the compassion illuminating all!
As a shimmering candle, your aura shines,
A sudden bliss, a gleaming hope,
A modest, humble self-effacing guide,
Enlightening the path, unfurling tranquil peace!
My heart refutes, the mind repels,
The cruel death snatches the mortal being,
Your memories I treasure to reminisce and cherish,
Your words my companion in the journey of life!
Acrylic is an exuberant technique
giving life to colors so unique,
reminiscent of a Matisse.
The pine-scented breeze drifts
from mounts to hills,
an ambient of skylarks trills.
The French Autumn landscape
with mounts and lake,
an escape for the elite.
The noon holds mystique,
away from harsh critique
paints lovely Bernadette.
The delicate cotton canvas
is too small to contain all images;
the artist, struggling manages.
The brush drips on grass
changing the shade of the violets;
she stoops down to clean up the mess.
Called so young,
So profound and sweet.
A spring of mud,
A wall of filth.
Yet, life ran true
As you gave all.
Could that we,too,
Possess such faith.
Form:
At first sight, I miss God,
When I think of my father,
Of the primroses in bloom,
When I feed the blinding sun,
Drying up, all the rivers.
I miss God,
When I don’t understand
The purity of the azure,
When I repeat words
In a foreign language,
I miss God,
When I go to Cavale Blanche Hospital,
That I hear screams,
Of suffering persons
Or mad of love?
I miss God
When I write poems,
That no one says,
For friends, or fairies,
In bombed churches
I miss God,
When I walked in Bordeaux,
Without knowing you,
Without being able to count on him,
On the merry ghosts,
I miss God
When I see the bee again
Wasting time on the flower,
When I forget Sevastopol,
Marilyne, and Bernadette.
At first sight, I miss God,
When I leave Tuscany,
When I ask Eluard, Picasso,
Or see the swallows in a hurry
Run away from my country.
The funeral was well attended
Nobody came
It was sad in a way
Clashed with the dog passing away
There was a friend with a leg
When I say a leg
I actually mean two
Though he had the flu
The Priest nearly made it
But he passed too
The butcher discussed it with the baker
In the newsagents where the notice was placed
Was it his wife who put it in
Well yes, to begin
Then a black guy called Fred
Placed another, hopefully dead
Followed by Titch
Who looked quite rich
But was really his bit..
Not to detract from Simon
Frowned the butcher, calling him pieman
Though, that was simplistic
The florist cried foul
She had the contract
But just for a while
It was left to the undertaker
Wade
Who had to subcontract
When thieves stole his spade
Joe from the pub
With the maths degree
Discussed the angles
Buried under a tree
Bernadette, at the bookmakers
Had to agree
Rushing off to mass
Father Joe listened with glee
It was a trying day in the village of Dull
The pub was in mourning
There was a definite lull
But one thing was agreed
As they slowly got pissed
Rover the dog
Would surely be missed.
Maelore, King of the Mountain, owning the Mountain’s Wealth
This summer heat has been brutal, affecting the Lions Health
His mistresses, Miss Kitty, Bernadette, the renegade Linda Sioux
The weasels, chipmunks, squirrels and rabbits stay out of Maelore’s view
Chewing on a Milkweed does nothing for Maelore the mountain King
The growl of an empty stomach is the only song starvation will sing
Now the Moutain King, Loves his ladies : He only aims to Please
At Farmer Brown’s there’s chicken for delicious “Chicken Fricassee”
Now Maelore told Miss Kitty; under the light of the bright full Moon
“When they wake up, tell Bernadette and Linda Sioux I’ll be back real soon
A Shotgun Blast ominously echoes across the Mountain’s Forest Floor
Miss Kitty, Bernadette, the renegade Linda Sioux, would see Maelore :
N E V E R M O R E
HGarvey Daniel Esquire Wrote this for Constance ~ The Ramblling POET’S ~
Contest “ Cat Poems “ Dedicated to Constance, Barbara, and Linda-Marie
Washed by spitum from the drooping lips
of the dying angel, i recieve the command baton
to war against the dreadful monsters from outer space.
With a bible from Bernadette Soubirous
i whip like Arthur's excalibur,
cutting squirming tails and bursting goric eyes
until i come face to face
with the Republican Guards of East Hell.
I wrestle Hitler with a doze of morphine,
sing Beelzebub to sleep with a tune
from ancient biblical Ruth
and recieve extra light
from the Eagle Nebulae
to frighten approaching fiends in to their darksome burrows.
They came to retrieve the secret of
the sacred feminine given to Dan Brown
on easter night by angel Micheal.
Now on once raging battle fields stand,
dead demons and rotten evil spirits and the poster
"Beyond the Knowing of Man."
Then i clutch the scrolls from Nag Hammadi
and the convenant from Damascus
on a night flight to Zion's Hill.
Jesus welcomes me in pomp
that words can never craft.
Two years later CNN makes my flight
the new twenty first century scripture.