Best Branchy Poems
As I'm looking through my window
And I start to l look around
All the snow has melted
I see toys left on the ground
A basket ball, a whiffle ball
A glove and baseball bat
A dirty lone blue mitten
And a cotton ball wool hat
Candy wrappers and soda caps
And a witches old corn broom
And underneath the swing set
Was a busted red balloon
Footsteps from the children
Left imprinted in the dirt
And in the leafless branchy bush
Was a little boys lost shirt
Those times when we were children
Sometimes bad and sometimes good
I'd go back there in a heartbeat
If I thought that I just could
A dirty lone blue mitten
And a cotton ball wool hat
A basket ball, a whiffle ball
A glove and a baseball bat
And underneath the swing set
Was a busted red balloon
Candy wrappers and soda caps
And a witches old corn broom
And in the leafless branchy bush
Was a little boys lost shirt
Footsteps from the children
Left imprinted in the dirt
Those times when we were children
Sometimes bad and sometimes good
I'd go back there in a heartbeat
If I thought that I just could
Above a cloudy jar of brine
That floated greenish hard boiled eggs,
Beside a Schlitz beer waterfall
That told bar time (ten minutes fast),
A taxidermied Jack-A-Lope
With rabbit ears and tiny rack
Stared marble eyed into the dark.
“We don’t have many Jack-A-Lopes
Back home in any city bars,”
I told a man who served us drinks.
“At prices there, that’s no surprise.”
The barman said without a smile
And told us of the Jack-A-Lope:
Time was you looked, you’d find his kind,
But rarely in these mountain slopes.
They only bred in wintertime
And only in electric storms.
It’s rumored round that milk that came
From mother Jack-A-Lopes could cure
Whatever walks on twos or fours
So rare it was most called it myth
As much as Sasquatch ever was.
Until one day a dowser came
Divining where to dig a well.
And gripping his good witching stick
Could swear he saw the front branch twitch.
He scrunched his eyes and looked again.
“No, something’s in that undergrowth.”
Up popped the branchy antlers of
This fearsome critter, Jack-A-Lope.
Now as it was this dowser had
A more than common whiskey thirst.
And had to live his life downwind
From ordinary decent folk.
Like pictures of Napoleon,
He stuck his hand inside his coat,
Produced a flask of sour mash,
And threw it at this portmanteau.
Some say it hopped away afraid,
But those that know have winked and said,
“That animal attacked the flask;
Without their bourbon Jack-A-Lopes
Will fade away until they’re gone.”
Outsiders paid some license fees
For hunting season, dates of which
Cannot be found on calendars.
The most were poached as trophies for
Hotels, saloons and brothels where
The mounted heads amazed their guests.
No hunter had had an interest in
An animal that can’t be killed
Because it never ever was.
But now so heavy was the hunt
The Jack-A-Lope was soon extinct,
So every one of them was killed
To prove one time they did exist.
The bar grew quiet just as if
Some meaning might be understood.
I pointed at my empty glass
And asked the barman pouring drinks,
“What’s on that plaque below the head?”
“Some Latin words, a kind of crest.
A family motto more or less.”
You say that love hurts
I’d say that’s completely false
Love is a gift from the almighty God
Sow a little seed of affection and it will turn to a branchy palm
Bearing forth fruit of varied colors and forms; Red, Gold, emerald and some in turquoise
Buds so pink, smelling like everlasting rose
Love doesn’t hurt my lover
it’s the inner filth that tears people apart
Love nurtures lives and builds you up.. Like a loving mother nursing a child
But “Selfishness” always destroys hearts
Love flows like a river giving life to deserted lands
Breezing with the northern wind; Sprinkling disremembered lullaby hums
Oh my lover!
If you can’t sustain love in your small heart
You’d better never blame the beautiful love!
Love when true will bring you joy
Gushes of light, fleeing your scrunching dark
Love is the whispers of the ocean waves
Covering you in serenity and delight.. Making you dance with dolphins and sharks
Oh my lover!
Love is the medicine for a coward heart
Take a sip and receive the heart of a knight!
Love flows like a river giving life to deserted lands
Breezing with the northern wind; Sprinkling disremembered lullaby hums
Love never hurts my lover
But you hurt me so bad
God have mercy so I can forgive your past!
May 2016
Contest judged (A Poem that you are proud of) and the date May 22,2016
I will enter deep down to grow
And my root in the soil bow
My stem I spread within the loamy reach
So my boughy trunk shall in depth breach
Then I’ll let out my branchy foliage
On it I’ll display my flowers in cleavage
So my offsprings be born bountifully
To serve mankind generously
My foliage for man’s cover
And my branches for birds’ full shelter
SO SAID THE MUSTARD SEED
I shall not take a fool’s risk
Rather, my smooth body about I’ll frisk
I will not dare darkness of the deep
For my eyes, uncertainties to peep
If roused, my roots will be broken
And my stem on spread-spree will be smoken
Neither shall my body be scorched by the sun
Nor unstable seasons my life run
For I cannot watch my offshoots as spare food
And my branches too great to house little brood
SO BOASTED THE NUT SEED.
And so resoluted the two in unison resolve
There and then, they’re destined as
Each granted as wished and willed
Both prospered as prospected
The mustard in manifold manifested
The nut natured as nurtured
Time became their fortune-teller
Then one day a squirrel scratched up
The naughty nut from its niche
And made it a relish of morning meal
What now try our souls at evening's faint hour? I
Shall not let some heavy foot use this heart
Like a common shoe. I shall yet defy
The tiger slinking to tear me apart
For daring to the forest edge to come
And rinse my soul with trees and find ransome.
Here far from spilling oil the ocean bleeds
And far from tattered feathers and doomed things
Amidst the green of lung my fear recedes
In every bud promises eternal springs.
Here the caterpillars' yellow teeth contest
My love that cannot surrender forest.
Earth boils hot with indignation at man's
Polluted ambition, the gas of stars
Spill over into our discomfort, sands
Crawl slowly from the shore; greed, green, scars
The crinkling vision, my trees pant for light
Where sea rising, inches close through the night.
O warriors of the old way I call
For courage that shall the new day proclaim
I leave my skin, my blood, my tears of gall
Above the shame of dividing walls. Lame
Though the tiger limps, I turn no back to him,
He's agile as a lie - I keep the rim
My heart is a temple for His coming
The wind conducts the forest blooming choir
And birds, old parishioners here, humming
From their branchy pews, a litany inspire
From every shreiking, flying, croaking thing
I see bright stars, and suddenly want to sing.
Each new morning I must, must view my trees,
I love when their branches dance and sway in the breeze;
and how they adapt to season changes with ease.
In October they do a golden leafy striptease;
November and squirrels scamper on a branchy trapeze,
Winter brings the dreaded long deep freeze_
and they look dead with some unknown disease.
Oh, I wish they would put on their green gowns, please;
then, one morn' I wake to a leafy dance like in my memories.
_________________________
October 05, 2022
Poetry/Monorhyme/Tree Memories
Copyright Protected, ID 10-1492-446-05
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Single Stanza Monorhyme
sponsor, L MILTON HANKINS, Judged 10/06/2022
Sixth Place
The challenge was to add one stanza into the sponsor's poem. This was my favorite one that he showed. I have italized the last stanza to show it is the little part that I added to Charles Messina's poem "If I Could Go Back":
As I'm looking through my window
And I start to l look around
All the snow has melted
I see toys left on the ground
A basket ball, a whiffle ball
A glove and baseball bat
A dirty lone blue mitten
And a cotton ball wool hat
Candy wrappers and soda caps
And a witches old corn broom
And underneath the swing set
Was a busted red balloon
Footsteps from the children
Left imprinted in the dirt
And in the leafless branchy bush
Was a little boys lost shirt
Those times when we were children
Sometimes bad and sometimes good
I'd go back there in a heartbeat
If I thought that I just could
A dirty lone blue mitten
And a cotton ball wool hat
A basket ball, a whiffle ball
A glove and a baseball bat
And underneath the swing set
Was a busted red balloon
Candy wrappers and soda caps
And a witches old corn broom
And in the leafless branchy bush
Was a little boys lost shirt
Footsteps from the children
Left imprinted in the dirt
Those times when we were children
Sometimes bad and sometimes good
I'd go back there in a heartbeat
If I thought that I just could
I’d don the cotton ball wool hat
and give the whiffle ball a whack.
Then loud and strong I’d raise my voice
as friends and brothers I’d call back!
Aug. 21, 2018 for Charles Messina's Add A Stanza To My Poem Poetry Contest
Note: Here is a link to his poem. There you can see an interesting bio that goes with it . He grew up with many siblings just like I did.
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/if_i_could_go_back_1012017
Reflections of desire
Multiply in plethoric bounty
A multitude of choices
Impending all around me
We are intuitive
Our colors empower
Life’s choices shielding
Unconsciously yielding
Generated by our psyche
Meanings an underlining
Such interpretations
Permeate color creations~
With heavenly skies
Dark Indigo Blue
Releasing calmness
Triumphant and true
The admiration of earthy green
Bestowing within….a grounded will
Inner powers creating the thrill
Bold ravenous crimson red
Persuading a compelled sensuality
Willing such glandular vitality
Cheerful yellow shows indivisible hope
Anxiety releasing its restricted glows
Unlimited expansiveness seethes and shows
A mixture of red and blue turning violet
Magical mystical enchantment within
Striking captivation is violets mission
Panicles require a branchy Brown stem
Sexual inhibitions dark yellow and red
Brown forbids pain ameliorated and fed
Black our desolate color of harmony
Bleeding out an imprudent blight
An end to sorrow~ Black veils fright~
As I'm looking through my window
And I start to l look around
All the snow has melted
I see toys left on the ground
A basket ball, a whiffle ball
A glove and baseball bat
A dirty lone blue mitten
And a cotton ball wool hat
Candy wrappers and soda caps
And a witches old corn broom
And underneath the swing set
Was a busted red balloon
Footsteps from the children
Left imprinted in the dirt
And in the leafless branchy bush
Was a little boys lost shirt
Those times when we were children
Sometimes bad and sometimes good
I'd go back there in a heartbeat
If I thought that I just could
A dirty lone blue mitten
And a cotton ball wool hat
A basket ball, a whiffle ball
A glove and a baseball bat
And underneath the swing set
Was a busted red balloon
Candy wrappers and soda caps
And a witches old corn broom
And in the leafless branchy bush
Was a little boys lost shirt
Footsteps from the children
Left imprinted in the dirt
The child in me hasn’t grown up
Wants even now to play in snow
Make footprints alongside children’s
If in those times back I could go
Those times when we were children
Sometimes bad and sometimes good
I'd go back there in a heartbeat
If I thought that I just could
August 17, 2018
Contest : Add a stanza to my poem
Sponsored by : Charles Messina
(Added stanza is in bold)
(first 9 stanzas by Charles Messina, Sponsor)
As I'm looking through my window
And I start to l look around
All the snow has melted
I see toys left on the ground
A basket ball, a whiffle ball
A glove and baseball bat
A dirty lone blue mitten
And a cotton ball wool hat
Candy wrappers and soda caps
And a witches old corn broom
And underneath the swing set
Was a busted red balloon
Footsteps from the children
Left imprinted in the dirt
And in the leafless branchy bush
Was a little boys lost shirt
Those times when we were children
Sometimes bad and sometimes good
I'd go back there in a heartbeat
If I thought that I just could
A dirty lone blue mitten
And a cotton ball wool hat
A basket ball, a whiffle ball
A glove and a baseball bat
And underneath the swing set
Was a busted red balloon
Candy wrappers and soda caps
And a witches old corn broom
And in the leafless branchy bush
Was a little boys lost shirt
Footsteps from the children
Left imprinted in the dirt
Those times when we were children
Sometimes bad and sometimes good
I'd go back there in a heartbeat
If I thought that I just could
Those olden days were simple then
We kids were merry with our ways
Of playing in our tiny yard
Where laughter, fun, made happy days.
Sandra M. Haight
~2nd Place~
Contest: Add A Stanza To My Poem
Sponsor: Charles Messina
Added For Contest: Last Stanza, #10
Judged: 08/27/2018
As I'm looking through my window
And I start to l look around
All the snow has melted
I see toys left on the ground
A basket ball, a whiffle ball
A glove and baseball bat
A dirty lone blue mitten
And a cotton ball wool hat
Candy wrappers and soda caps
And a witches old corn broom
And underneath the swing set
Was a busted red balloon
Footsteps from the children
Left imprinted in the dirt
And in the leafless branchy bush
Was a little boys lost shirt
Those times when we were children
Sometimes bad and sometimes good
I'd go back there in a heartbeat
If I thought that I just could
A dirty lone blue mitten
And a cotton ball wool hat
A basket ball, a whiffle ball
A glove and a baseball bat
And underneath the swing set
Was a busted red balloon
Candy wrappers and soda caps
And a witches old corn broom
And in the leafless branchy bush
Was a little boys lost shirt
Footsteps from the children
Left imprinted in the dirt
Those times when we were children
Sometimes bad and sometimes good
I'd go back there in a heartbeat
If I thought that I just could
If I could go back to that time
I'd tell them one by one
Learn to listen to the music
Before the song is done
8-9-2018
For Charles Messina's contest If I Could Go Back- Collaboration
Here
we
are
in
this
worthy
woods,
the
most
serene
abode
of
animals.
Let
us
not
talk
aloud,
but
whisper,
as
noise
will
disturb
the
denizens
peacefully
breathing
here.
Follow
me,
keeping
quiet!
O
hark!
There's
abrupt
tremulous
twitter
and
clamour
of
coos
in
the
branchy
green
of
these
tall-
tall
trees!
May
be
some
monkeys've
heard
the
rustles
here
and
higher
up
on
the
trees
they've
climbed
anon
to
alert
all
others
that's
spoiled
the
sublime
silence
of
those
feathered
creatures!
reaching garland day
a garland leaf flourishes
out the perfect pond
branchy break of day
a blessed, nativity soars
because of the leafs
4/27/19
For A Garland Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
branchy timberland
so coral giant snake prowls
on belly crawling
~
slither, slither, crawl
slimming wet snake walks
on belly crawling
5/4/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020