Best Budding Poems
Back when he was seven, our son won a contest
In his class, his turkey recipe adjudged the best
He was so happy, floating so high on cloud nine
but first prize was something less than 'quite fine'
He had to follow his recipe, cook our Thanksgiving meal
a prize which to his parents had no real appeal
As our son had never used the oven before
we planned on having problems galore
Sure enough, the new chef got off on the wrong foot
as into a pan, a frozen turkey in its package he put
Yet since the poor lad was so new to this game
we simply chuckled a bit, refused to lay blame
at the feet of our son, and explained so politely
that a turkey frozen solid won't cook quite rightly
He listened to us wide-eyed and dutifully
then gave that bird time to thaw proper-beautifully
Only --- so excited to start, he forgot the next instruction
which caused more than just some minor destruction
to the thawed bird, which was still in its package
as it entered the hot oven, awaiting the wreckage...
Well, you can imagine the looks on our faces
hearing the turkey begin to 'pop, crackle, snap'
For a moment, horrified, we were frozen in our places
before opening the oven, to a thunderous clap...
Our son was despondent; we had to cheer him right up
So we smiled our best smiles and said, "Just add a cup
or four of water to the pan--- after we scrape off the plastic"
~ I thought that my wife's laugh sounded a bit spastic
But our little budding chef put his heart into the task
and he basted that bird, doing all we had asked
So. when we finally sat down, and clasped our hands to say grace
~ You should have seen the big smile on our happy son's face
October 27, 2019
Thanksgiving Memory Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina Riddle
When trees bud their first green
All of nature rejoices when
Birds in early morn' sing,
New life all around, a butterfly omen-
It is time for love once again
Primitive energies overtake all beings
Expectant mothers' build their dens
I stop to watch two birds lovingly preen
Time to build on life, nature knows when
An ancient art performed through history
again and again
3/29/2014
For a date at eight she bathes at five.
In tons of bubble bath,
Barricades her boudoir door,
Eau de cologne marks her path!
Her lingerie must be 'just so',
A froth of frills and lace.
Down with the curlers, up with the hose,
The womanly task of 'fixing her face'!
Donning a frock spun out of dreams,
With a skirt to swish and sway.
Into the slippers, shining and new.
Did Cinderella feel this way?
What gala affair now summons our queen,
Embassy tea or debutante ball?
Oh no! It's a matter of much more import!
Her very first date awaits in the hall!
Composed by my wife, Vera Selena (Osburn) Hinshaw
© All Rights Reserved
Limerick crochet: Once budding Writer took private tuition
Once budding Writer took private tuition
Father wished him a Man of Distinction
He got straight As in school
No one thought him a fool
At higher studies won commendation
Got high-paying job in government
Promotions to highest firmament
Wished to be great writer
Looked around for tutor
Who showed the way out of predicament
“First enrol in creative writing schools
Where Shakespeare and Cervantes are thought fools:
They didn’t take tuition
Abhorred imitation –
Follow our advice and drool out stools!”
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
If April is for
poetry, then what is May
for? Budding poets!
For Another Budding Child Flower
Alone in the dark uterus of my bedroom
here I lie curled up in the thoughts
and emotions of the day.
Another budding flower
was plucked from the garden street
leaving its red sap as a jaded memento
to stained innocence and hoodwinked justice.
Another aborted life spiraled away
as echoes of fading out cries floated
wearily on the reefs of passing time
covering awareness of another heinous crime
whose guilt will soon vanish from human notice.
Now with my cervical poised head on tear soaked pillow
I pray God that another flower be not plucked away tomorrow.
Age of purity and innocence,
this time of change
meets a blooming maturity
Fulfilling form, stylising figure;
nature produces fine specimen
A time to play with hair and fashion
To perfect beauty,
applying make-up and perfumes
Bringing forth fresh radiance
Changing mood and attitude
A young lady, pleasing to the eye
stands before mankind
A budding beauty
ready to take on new life style
To seek, settle, nurture,
or give her all to career
Go-getter or jet-setter
her presence is felt near
The shadows from his younger days shake his resolve,
and make a mockery of time 'til time be lost
to moments of bewilderment, ne'er to evolve,
they bounce and bluster errantly, much to his cost.
Shades and silences, outbursts of ungoverned rage,
cruelty breeds rancor, e'en in the meek at heart,
kept and restricted, like a creature in a cage,
no literature for him, gentility or art.
Dissimulation, trickery and guile he plies
as tools to engineer self-preservation,
he tells quaint versions of the truth, and bald-faced lies,
so to avoid the whip and recrimination.
Childhood is the birthplace of hope and mirth
not fear and perturbation for the budding soul,
a testament to love where supplicants may dwell;
not tyranny or willfulness, a wayward goal.
Shun darkness, disillusionment from God's green earth,
cast demons, evil thinkers to the depths of hell!
Last Modified: January 09, 2016 at 07:20 pm
© bickerstaffe - all rights reserved
Author Notes
...the first three verses: abab rhyming
the next two together: abcbac rhyming
a form used frequently by W.H. Auden
March winds are blowing
remnants of winter away
trees will wear new clothes
Blue bonnie budding beauty burn
Ready to receive fluttering butterflies
Breathing heavy heart not seen
Glittering dew drops signify all.
+++++++
July 27, 2014
Form:Jue Ju
Dr. Ram Mehta
Eighth Place Win
Contest: The Passion in A Jue Ju by nette onclaud
Lovely hued flowers adorn my sills, painting over winter's gloom
Budding blossoms, an abundant gift from earth's lavish garden
Spring has arrived in splendor; she is fully clad in fragrant bloom
An array of vivid petals wave to greet me through my open curtain
A banquet for my eyes until the azure skies gallantly darken
Fresh green scapes boldly beckon with promise of sunlit strolls
Winter's slumber has contained all of my audacious desires
The thaw of spring awakens passions welling in my soul
Brilliant butterflies flutter, pristine snowflakes try to aspire
As spring's budding romance is displayed, winter has expired
Melodies enchant the barren forests as leaves sprout in song
Trees sway to spring's beautiful music and burst with creation
Robin's nest caresses bright blue eggs on branches thick and strong
Graceful wings dance on the golden horizon, birds sing in elation
Nature embraced by the sun and earth, spring's miraculous sensation
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
Ninth place in English Quintain A Spring Day contest (Francine Roberts)
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, February 4, 2012
for Francine Robert's english quintain, a spring day contest
Ninth place
Closed Eyes --
I imagine you, a bird
Soaring through a cloudless wide open
And to my ears, I hear the gentle chimes
In breathtaking delight, a sound so
Tinkle
Tinkle
Tinkle…
Breathing in --
The air is warm painted in sunshine
Sweet as fresh rain in the woods
I hear you --
A quiet flutter against plumes
Your feathers lift so subtle
Embracing cooling winds
High above the treetops…
Please wait for me in budding branches;
I will fly with you, I promise --
I love you.
The shadows from his younger days shake his resolve,
and make a mockery of time 'til time be lost
to moments of bewilderment, ne'er to evolve,
they bounce and bluster errantly, much to his cost.
Shades and silences, outbursts of ungoverned rage,
cruelty breeds rancor, even in the meek at heart,
kept and restricted, like a creature in a cage,
no literature for him, gentility or art.
Dissimulation, trickery and guile he plies
as tools to engineer self-preservation,
he tells quaint versions of the truth, and bald-faced lies,
so to avoid the whip and recrimination.
Childhood is the birthplace of hope and mirth
not fear and perturbation for the budding soul,
a testament to love where supplicants may dwell;
not tyranny or willfulness, a wayward goal.
Shun darkness, disillusion, from God's green earth,
cast demons, evil thinkers to the depths of hell.
Dreams unshackled by sleep
A shooting star by campfire light
Miles unhindered by a voice
A lakeside stroll in day’s last light
Music shared within two hearts
A dance alone but never lonely
Laughter washes over sorrows
A love not lost as mine and only
a child collapsed cold in the garden
talisman waved with the wind
violently close to a pardoning-
hardening, molding the kin to her seam inter-winged
horribly marbling volatile harmony
azure veins fold under skin- jittering
gently golden it stings
effigy holding the strings
partially fondling close within cartilage-
pieces now bloom into things-
before following-
thin choreology
thew ending progeny
posed they erode intermittently-
honestly,
iridine progeny,
how are you possibly
watching atrocity knead etymology
skin abound covering, sleeving impossibly
sinew renewed where it feeds on bare faucet leaks
farther it blossoms then seeps something bodily
oddity, pardon me
lovably blue and it bleeds out so audibly
fissure pains bottling
lowly imposingly-
nearing a prophecy
budding up slowly to figurehead modesty
petals all grown out- they shelter so somberly
flay splayed out flower-wise neatly and modestly
peaking autonomy
inky tear conjuring
pink from the fostering
nauseously
cautiously failing to breathe