Best Bunches Poems
I used to like barbells, enjoyed pumping iron,
my Nautilus* gym was one happy environ.
Those posters of 6-packs and marbled biceps
inspired me to start counting carbs, pounds, and reps.
My trainer would coax, "hold as long as you can!"
Doing deadlifts I felt like a WAS a dead man
The kettlebell, medicine ball - hated those,
since dropping 'em both on my poor little toes.
My dad-bod and willpower soon parted ways,
after only 1 set, I was shell-shocked for days
My back hurt, my knees ached, I'd injured my hips,
after grimacing nonstop, I'd sprained both my lips.
Oy! The sharp pain that shoots
through my quads, delts and glutes...
Now my game plan is shifting
no more power lifting.
To planks, it's "no thanks",
I'm expunging all lunging.
I feel stabs in my abs,
there's a hex on my pecs
and my lats shriek like bats.
When I tweak my oblique
I am sore to the core...
and I want it no more.
The rowing machine is no longer my scene
I loathe those squats lots and I hate crunches bunches.
Do sit-ups or push-ups? Do jump-ups or chin-ups?
I'm more inclined now to do lots of "I-give-ups".
My doc tried convincing me I'd be less tired?
I'm questioning how that poor man's brain is wired!
I felt half exhausted just WATCHING staff clean
the ellipticals, treadmills, and stair-climb machine.
Then... I found when I stood on the locker room scale
That my plan to lose weight was a sad epic fail!
I'm done! I have finished my very last burpee -
I just want a hot dog and super-size Slurpee.
What happened to wanting to feel fit and well?
When it came to workouts, I was just a dumbbell.
I've resolved now to walk more, or swim a few laps
maybe jog, ride my bike, play some tennis, take naps.
That's right, getting plenty of rest seems so plain,
it appears the most challenging muscle to train ...
is the brain.
* Nautilus is a brand of gym equipment
written 2 Oct 2022
assorted like the washing on its lines
the words appeared along my way
in bunches of neat paragraphs
they briskly flapped into my mind
still dripping with those concepts they
must have been soaked in for a while
I gladly felt them touching me
and liked their affluent display
of shapes and textures manifold
enjoyed the pleasant freshness
of the smell they carried off all
seasons’ winds spiced with ideas
time passing by would watch me
stealthily try on this one or that so
in their context rinsed with thought
to cool the feverish qualms of my
keen heart and growingly my soul
seems to be draped in purified attire
All around us are flowers, varied.
Beautiful in tinge and tone.
Combined, they create a marvelous show,
Dazzling the eyes and pleasing all senses.
Earth is never left morose in shades of grey.
Fancifully spreading colors on a wide palette,
God has created an assortment of blooms.
Honeyed they are with a heavenly aroma.
Imaging them into different forms,
Judiciously God has juxtaposed them with a mix of hues.
Kaleidoscopic they thus remain,
Lifting and levitating us to euphoria,
Mesmerizing and hypnotizing us.
Nature’s beautiful bonanza gifted by God!
Oeuvre of the skilled craftsman,
Plethora of paradigms of inimitable art,
Quaintly adorning and decorating,
Radiating cheer and joy in us,
Spectrum of colors that sway and dance,
Tickling our senses and taking us to fairy lands.
Umpteen are the flowers that surround us.
Verbena, in bunches of pink, white or purple
Water lilies of pastel, white and lavender shades
Xanthoceras in gorgeous yellow or white clusters
You and I can only be breathless spectators,
Zombies inebriated in beauty and loveliness.
Bells summoned as they tolled the sad departure
Of my poor mother’s sudden demise.
I led the short funeral procession
Towards her eternal resting sepulchre.
Before her black ebony casket was closed,
I looked intently down at her, still beautiful.
Her dress, her favourite, all lace in black.
That was her last and final wish.
They laid her in a damp black tomb
Surrounded by tall dark cypress trees,
A breeze sighed and soughed softly in sorrow
While I stood head bowed down in grief.
Lifeless leaves fell in yellow-red bunches
And covered up her ghostly grave
No tears streamed down my face, heartbroken,
Strewed instead black roses, fragrant and sweet.
"Be like a flower ... gentle, quiet and humble."
Quote _ Constance La France
Their blossoms faded to shades of amber filagree
Now, withered remnants of what they used to be
Sweet scent that once perfumed a drawing room
On stems cut from my garden, each humble bloom
is spent, past prime; ready to be pressed in a book
or drying in bunches, quietly hanging upon a hook
Recently snipped, arranged in a Lalique crystal vase
are their progeny, who have taken their elders' place.
How beautiful they are, dressed in cobalt blue gowns
eliciting smiles of adoration, never woebegone frowns.
Their beauty gentles my mood when they stand proud
until they too, will wither and fade, their stems bowed.
Oh, to be like a flower ~ gentle, quiet and humble,
happy to entice the pollen seekers, a bee who bumbles
or butterflies who flutter fragile wings, flying so free.
How I wish sometimes that a tiny creature I could be,
with delicate wings spread, I'd travel without a sound
grateful to be alive, without setting foot on the ground.
May 22, 2023
Writing Challenge ~ B Quotes Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANNE-LISE!!!!!
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HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU
HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU
HAPPYHAPPYBIRTHDAYTOYOU
BAPPYBAPPYHIRTHTAYDOYOU
BAPSYBIRSDDAY
A L
N I
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E-E
HIPPYBARSDAYSOYOU
:) I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN SOMETHING WAS WRONG WITH THIS DRINK WHEN I SAW THE SQUARE BUBBLES!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALLL WEEEK LONNNNGGGG!!! LOVE YOU BUNCHES, DEB
7.27.2012©deborah burch
How grateful I am
Having been created to be always
In the heart of Jesus;
He poured out through me,
His unconditional love
To my family, friends
Students and to everyone.
Career is my precious gift,
It's the greatest fulfillment.
From Him, I had received;
In this way, I can serve Him
As long as I live,
To mold the young minds
For world's future sake.
I will always be a committed mentor,
With lots of patience, love
And bunches of care;
Share all my knowledge and skills
To the best I can,
Leading my students
To God in prayer.
As eldest in the family,
I'll also take enough responsibility,
To help my parents and brothers
In any way,
Serving them to the fullest,
While still young and unmarried.
I'll go on in life's struggle,
If there are barriers,
I will not give up whatever matters.
Give my love even until it hurts,
Ti's life's essence in this world,
To love and serve, I truly believe
Is my mission on earth.
I avoid florists, not the people,
who generally speaking,
are polite and quite unremarkable.
I write of those floral gangsters;
the vainglorious gladioli,
eugenically forced greenhouse geraniums
with their large shar-pei heads.
Garish claustrophobic hosts
pressing in.
My center inwardly trembles
when confronted with Pelargonium posses
all the heavy menacing smells
of the over-cultivated.
Charles Darwin, thought these latter-day
angiosperms as, “an abominable mystery.”
They are life-forms born of missing links,
genetically modified to eat oxygen
out of human brains.
Dogs and cows
are immune to their deleterious charms,
but we who are drawn to color and form,
sniff them out, as if they are the hard drugs
we were once cautioned
never to reach for.
O you Peony, you Day Lily, you seemingly
innocuous bunches of Mums,
I see you, you smug mobs,
and I cringe away
rather than buy my sweetheart
yet another monstrous spray.
Buried deep in this vault is Andrew John Greenwidge
Fell into and drowned in a giant tank of raw sewage
The mourners to his funeral brought bunches of roses
And throughout the service held tightly their noses .
Written 16th April 2019.
For An Epitaph To make Us Laugh 2, Poetry Contest.
Sponsored by Jesse Rowe.
As the morning breeze springing sprightful fragrance
Stolen cleverly when he kissed the soft colourful petals
I woke up into a new fresh delightful daylight
To taste once more my honeyed life and my blossoming day.
From my flat laying lazily at level six
I was contented to watch the sunrise
He rose with all his fervor and might
And I wished him a happy day out.
The sighing wind called me to look down the streets
Where I saw people in masks treading hastily
Like ants rushing here and there in hurry
Never they wish nor smile to any other faces.
Stand alone in bunches they waited for their turn
In buses or cars which ever halted to pick
Like strange samurai soldiers flying to a war zone
Never they wish nor smile to any other faces.
Fearful glances and rushing little steps
Even the whisking dresses frightfully heard as sneezes
My heart cried and burned seeing those pity stances
Oh, dear little creatures, stop your playful bounces.
The mighty human race moving towards a comess
When like weird aliens, Covid trying to invade
But tomorrow we will rise from our burning ashes
To tame you and make you a story for our coming cradles.
Third Place in N-A re-run 7 Poetry Contest sponsored by John Hamilton
Wild lavender flowers bloom in bunches
inside the circular garden
Surrounded by colors of emerald green
The Tiger Lilly rise above
with bright, orange curves and detailed markings
All is silent, petals are still
It is a perfect image on the hill
where the wind blew all these seeds home
- Life is in full bloom -
Heidi Sands
8/15/23
Heaven to each of us will be something different.
Artists will find paint brushes, easels, canvases, and glitter paint.
Musicians will discover instruments not invented yet on earth.
Scientists will land in a lab with like-minded white coats.
Romance writers will wake up to the fragrance of lilacs and roses.
Their pens will be quilled with the fluffiest feathers,
Their word processors will be voice activated
Illustrators will be creating the most sensuous book covers
Heaven will be filled with things children can touch.
They will gravitate toward each other, full of enthusiasm and mirth.
A carnival, zoo, museum, playground, and lots of cotton candy.
Bunches of relatives and friends ready to give them hugs and kisses.
TV loners will find themselves in a media room,
Each video screen showing whatever their mind hopes to see
They can spend hours in here, entertaining themselves
Food is not important, but they can choose popcorn if they like.
Each of us will have the things we need to entice us to want to stay.
If we want to take a peek at our loved ones, we can from time to time.
But after a bit we will be so delighted living our bliss and doing our work
We will stop all earthly visits, knowing we will see our loved ones soon enough.
If I could give you the moon
I would lasso it and
Pull it to you.
If I could give you the stars
I would gather them in bunches
Just for you.
If I could give you the sun
I would pack it to you know
Matter how hot it was.
If I could give you the wind
I would bottle it up
an hand it to you.
If I could give you the rain
I would catch it in pails
So you could see your
reflection in it.
I would give you my heart
If you could just let my love
Enter your heart.
That is how deep
My love for you is.
Emily goes for a walk.
Emily was at the beginning of her sixty-fifth year,
She lived alone since her husband,Colin died in 2008.
Her life involved cleaning and maintaining the family home.
Not that there was any family really.
Her only friend was a stray cat called Elenore.
She lived in Sydney so the January weather was fine and hot.
Just the kind of weather for a walk.
She put on a white dress and a straw hat with a rose on it.
“Come on Collie lets get going” she said softly
She often spoke to Colin even though he wasn’t there.
Her walk took her passed the Wilson house. She stopped for a moment.
In the front garden were bushes of Lavender. It was glorious.
“ Oh look Colin its Lavendar.It always reminds me of our first date.
Remember you gave me some Lavender perfume as a present.
Oh it must have been 1988.I still love the fragrance.”
Her mind often drifted to the place where good hearts go.
And in that place Colin was always tall,dark and handsome.
Emily kept walking down passed the river and the park.
There was a garden filled with red and yellow roses.
She sat on a park bench and smiled at the beautiful flowers.
“Oh Colin I was never really a big fan of roses until you brought me some.
Do you remember when I was in hospital and I had to have electric shocks.
You brought me bunches an bunches of roses.
It was divine.The whole ward smelled of rose perfume.”
“Oh Dear the sun seems to be going down.I’m not sure where I am.
Is that you Colin.Are you there.I should like to go back now.
I can’t see my way back.Please someone help me.
Ahh I am so lost.”
“Don’t fret sweetheart. I will lead you home.
And when we get there I have a surprise for you I have placed Lilies in your room
So lets go back.Hold my hand dear heart and I will lead you home.”
Silence………A solemn hush
except
for
insects
running
amongst the jade green grass
and the large invasive vines.
Large cypress trees,
stately and tall,
throw shadows around me
as I wend my way
along the lonely lanes
of moss-covered, musty-smelling tombs
careful not to touch the poison ivy
or admire the wisteria vines.
People do visit here,
for look, bunches of flowers
adorn the place,
emitting scents to try and nullify
the staleness of the resting place.
Headstones obliterated by the wind,
makes me wonder who lies beneath.
Was she beautiful and tall?
Ugly and short?
What does it matter now?
For all I care she could have been
beautiful and short.
But some things do matter
in our personal short earthly time.
All that matters is
what we do with our life.
Death holds no sting, really.
But
don’t
touch
the poison ivy.