Best Cane Poems
He walked down Goverment Road West
With a white cane, in shaking hand
Wearing Stevie wonder glasses
People called him the pop bottle man
With a white cane, in shaking hand
At the time he seemed old to me
People called him the pop bottle man
Searching the alleys for his treasures
At the time he seemed old to me
Frail in a menacing sorta way
Searching the alleys for his treasures
Bottles he spotted a mile away
Frail in a menacing sorta way
Us kids all stayed away from him
Bottles he spotted a mile away
I wondered why he carried a white cane
Us kids all stayed away from him
Until that day I took a chance
I wondered why he carried a white cane
Curiosity got the best of me
Until that day I took a chance
That man had been a mystery
Curiosity got the best of me
When I asked him why he smiled at me
That man had been a mystery
A lonely guy wandering the street
When I asked him why, he smiled at me
I handed him my bottle, he said thanks
A lonely guy wandering the street
Wearing Stevie wonder glasses
I handed him my bottle, he said thanks
He walked down Goverment Road West
I watch
Pop Bottle Man
Doing his blind man shuffle
When he sees a bottle
he moves towards it with ease
Dancing with glee
a spring in his step
More fluid than a summer breeze
He can see at twenty paces
Eyesight crystal clear
Through dark glasses
I watch him peer
Collecting his bottles
In plastic bags
The treasure that he holds so dear
Pop Bottle Man
His cane for protection
Illusion is the game he plays
What some see as crazy
May not be the case
If you take time to study his ways
For Gautami's Sketch a Character Contest.
I was inspired to write more after the Pantoum because of Drakes Comment.
written by Richard Lamoureux on October 23, 2014.
Love's Like Sugar Cane
Tender tendrils
of the same vine,
we entwine
with hearts a fluttering,
beating ecstatically as one,
floating on wings
of iridescent butterflies,
satisfyingly satiated by
love juices squeezed from an
orange, bright summer day.
Cherry blossom kisses
from pink juicy lips,
sprouting silky petals
that pucker and quiver,
anticipating warm, tropical,
sugar cane, sweet licks.
Blissfully drunk with love,
we sip and dip
into the golden syrupy
ocean of us.
07-24-2015
Contest: The Poet's Fire (12-07-2017)
Sponsor: Gregory R Barden
Placement: 1st
Contest: A Sexy Surreal (06-11-2017)
Sponsor: Lewis Raynes
Plaement: 3rd
Contest: One of your Best (01-07-2016)
Sponsor: Rob Carmack
Placement: 4th
Contest: Shweet Free Verse (07-29-2015)
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Placement: 3rd
Dark Chocolate Rivers sinfully twist
...through marshmallow trees in May
Cotton candy webs clenched in my fist
Music-box songs lightly play
Cupcake Merry-Go-Round safely sings
As I watch the Cherry-bombs rain
Lolly Pop Lights in colorful rings
All aboard my candy cane train~
*inspired by my seven yr old daughter....Brooke
Trustworthy cane, beside me rests so near,
A steadfast friend, in every weather clear.
Through rain or shine, it lights my way,
A loyal guide, night and day.
In corners sometimes it may reside,
Forgotten when life's tides collide.
Yet, with a stare, its help it extends,
A true reminder of a faithful friend.
From birth's first breath, we learned to crawl,
Exploring places, both big and small.
Now in old age, a different grace we glean,
Walking with a cane, hope's newfound scene.
In your polished wood or metallic frame, a history resides,
A witness to moments where life collides.
Lean on you I may, but stand tall I do,
For you are the friend that helps me push through.
Embracing change, we stride hand in hand,
Traversing the landscapes of shifting sand.
Oh, walking cane, you're more than a prop,
You're a symbol of strength, never to stop.
Down On Candy Cane Lane
Several Elves Burst Into Flame
Rudolph Was Sad
But, Santa Was Mad
Knowing Spiked Eggnog Was To Blame.
Santa Put The Drink On A Shelf
Too High Up For Any Elf.
But, The Elves Formed A Plan
And Hired A Man
Who Took And Drank It Himself.
CANDY CANE STICKS
bent little crooks
red and white
stripes
help us swallow
Christmascrass
hype
succor sugar comforts
stuffed stocking taboo
peppermint sticks
disabling treats
bow to licking
lips
spry little hooks that
stoop to bingecringe
stick sickly sweet
decaying teeth
succor sugar comforts
stuffed stocking taboo
tastebuds tingle
sleighbells jingle
cell-o-feigns
freed
Candy Cane
Christmascrass
creed
© Kim van Breda—1 December 2015
Red and white stripes round
and round the long shepherd's crook
sweet and refreshing
the first one of the season
most certainly not the last.
happy stranger knows
little boy wants candy canes
he makes them right there
wake up to the smell of a purple candy cane under my pillow dancing from one ear to the next... I giggle as it tickles and smell pickle endorses upon my skin like a cologne of a sandwich of tasty miracles.
I feel the purple rain outside in the barn arena as my eyes shutter and wobble as my alarm goes off I set it on snooze... and look in the cupboard for some booze..
The light turns to grey and the children dance in the purple hay I feel so gay and that;s the case of remembrance in the naked childhood wonderland of candy-land in the room of deference and common thread of how the progressive sense of tomorrows sorrows in the land of chocolate pie in a spy's eye to deliver the timing of yesterdays program and to relate to the side of relations.
with the entertainment of realistic line of smelt is to creep upon the life of the living. The question is deferred in the dance of remarkable dance of a purple candy cane.moment of truth reveal a sound of how one is relation and to commonality to the next percentage of the rest to define. may the purple cane haunt you tonight...
,
Hey my brave poetry sis from across the pond,
We don’t comment too often but we have a,
Common bond,
Our Greek blood is what makes us fighters,
We will forever be avid poetry writers,
You are in my thoughts every single day,
And I do stay still sometimes so that I
Can pray,
I hope you listen to the medical staff and
Every Doctor,
I’m sure you keep them amused, remind them
You are only a lodger,
That you are looking forward to going
Back home,
Where you can do as you like in your very
Own zone,
First eat well and carefully do your exercises,
This will definitely be good and energize
You,
I know that you had and have a great deal
Of pain,
You might in the first couple of weeks have to
Use a cane,
Paint it a bright red, azure blue or a candy
Floss pink,
And remember us all for you must know, that we
Think
Of you and wish you the best, a speedy recovery
My dear friend,
I would hope that you will leave pretty soon,
And that you are on the mend,
Love you dear sis,
With hugs and a kiss.
two McWhirtles
My cane has gone missing,
Hoveround showed up
of whom I sing praise for
supporting my girth.
I rise to stand strong on
two legs that are weakened,
and feel a bit useless,
retired sense of worth.
~~~
Not poppin' a wheelie,
not riding a coffin,
on legs somewhat worn out
my mind feels no dearth.
Not really a coward,
ashamed of my carriage.
I'm free-range, a chicken
a'hov'ring "my" earth.
written May 28, 2017
McWhirtle explained: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/McWhirtle
Why write, if only to please the masses?
Are you an addict for comments only
from positive-prone classes?
Must everything be, oh Lord, so
uplifting?
Life, as we know it, can be harsh and
most twisting!
Allow each poet complete freedom
to express their souls.
I do mean freedom, no limits, should
be our goal.
No repressive-mass antics, against
anyone’s semantics.
Be they too religious, you please refrain
from rude antics.
No man or woman here is a Big Hero
for speaking their truth.
That should be for any poet, normal,
and a given, forsooth!
When you reply, it shows you have
a poet’s true heart.
But do not become a replier only!
Tis then you lost a true poet’s art.
Christmas Day is almost here.
Write, do write poetry and be so effusive,
Part two, on spreading your Christmas
to all the best of cheer!
12-20-2021
12/20/2021
I take this cane with me
everywhere I go
It travels with me
from bike path to the open road
With my knife I add a notch
at each milestone
It is quite adorned now
for ways of only I would know
My cane knows that I travel
with the sorrowful blues
I strum it like a guitar
and belt out some notes, a few
You could say this walking cane
define me
But I say it's my friend
from what I can see
As for the notches...
they are my angels and my demons
speaking to my walking cane
over all the past seasons
Sunday, May 7, 2023
Poem inspired by Joe Bonamassa's song Notches
Clucking in the barnyard awaits the dawn
With the smooth raucous of morning.
Sheep dogs rise, stretch and yawn
While expecting the morning meal.
The horses lazily doze in the stables.
As the sun slowly breaks over the maples
Life begins to stir within the farm house.
Eggs begin grazing in bacon grease
And dough is rolled out with care.
The radio crackles forth to release
The forecast of upcoming rain.
All seems quite normal in the world
As the coffee greets sugar cane.
Soon the peaceful rise gives way to chores.
The sensible labors of farm life
Begin to be attended to without much lore.
The eggs are gathered and feed is laid.
The dogs get their meat and the horses wake.
The farm hands ride out to gather the sheep.
And the world is left to its small take.
I was just a kid back then
Just a skinny boy of ten
Walkin’ barefoot
With my ol’ cane pole
A covered bridge provided shade
As sounds the ripplin’ water made
Helped me think about
That summer’s goals
And I’d watch the ripplin’ water flow
Thinkin’ ‘bout things I didn’t know.
Years went by and I grew tall
But younger days I’d still recall
Walkin’ barefoot
With that ol’ cane pole.
That covered bridge was still my friend
And on the creeks’ bank I’d descend
Just thinkin’ ‘bout
All my lifetime’s goals
And I’d watch the ripplin’ waters flow
Thinkin’ ‘bout the things I’d want to know
But that was many years ago
The bridge is gone that I loved so
But on the creeks’ bank
I still could take a stroll
The solace there lies peacefully
A place where meditation's free
One where understanding
Was bestowed
Where I walked an’ watched the water flow
Wishin’ there were things I didn’t know
Hair is gray and walkin’s hard
And mem’ry parts are worn an' scarred
But not the thoughts
About my ‘ol cane pole!
In my mind the bridge calls me
Things are as they used to be
I see my hands around
That ol’ cane pole.
I wan’na sit and watch the water flow
... so much left that I will never know.