Best Forgotten Poems
Over the top lads, for old Blighty! Hold the colours high!
Say a little prayer for me, for this summer day we die.
My brothers from the ripened field and blackened mill, shop floor,
Your brother in a killing field to fight a rich man’s war.
In bloodied mud and shattered wood, fight legions of the brave,
Unwitting youth, you’ll do your duty until you’re in the grave.
A sergeant greets a fresh-faced boy, “welcome to the slaughter!”
Here you die from three diseases, bullet, gas or mortar.
In arms we fight together and in leaden hails we pass,
We die amongst the filth and stench that once was verdant grass.
“In the morning we will remember them” we hear the leaders call,
Those fickle words of history, will not remember us all.
FORGOTTEN TREASURE
I found the fountain of youth
When I stumbled across the forbidden garden
Right smack in the middle,
Was what I thought to be a wishing well
I tossed in a quarter!
Looking down with a puzzled face
I peeked to see where it fell
I leaned over and that's when I saw my vanity
It was always there waiting for me
The reflection in the water was my face
In wonder, I asked what this vision could be?
With one drop on my taste buds
I knew I found the one true key
The most beautiful thing that can set one free
I reached in to touch the poetry inside me
~5/31/11~
repost- My first poem on the soup
I want you to know I am not forgotten and those that knew me, make me known in their hearts and minds.
I believed in a cause to protect my fellow brothers and sisters, to risk my life
and to gladly serve. To protect this great nation for future generations. To crawl, to be shot at, to be wounded, to die. To leave behind my children, my wife, my family and friends. All for the cause, for my Nation, for what I believe is the right thing to do and have done.
I see you bringing flowers, and laying them down, in appreciation for my actions. Sometimes I lose a tear in watching you give thanks to me. I get to know all of you who come and visit us Here.
We might not be known,
but we are never Forgotten
You see for I reside in a
Special Place, that place is
The Tomb Of The Unknown Soldier
Michael Tor
I turn my head, and there she is once more
in her disheveled, worn, and tattered dress,
one pew behind me near the exit door-
she sits head bowed- an image of distress.
Two weeks now on a Sunday, she is there-
the same pew in the church, the same old clothes.
She shows forlornness that makes me aware
her life is sadly filled with countless woes.
This time, she lifts her head and looks at me,
as tears swell in her eyes and down her cheek.
My heart is broken by the hurt I see
within her wanting eyes so dark and meek.
I gaze into her face and see her fears.
With a slight twinkle in her sullen eyes
and tiny smile, she wipes her falling tears
away; but still, I hear the painful cries
that echo from her heart so silently-
her weakened body, anguished mind, and soul.
I wonder what in life could possibly
have caused her to now suffer such a toll.
And I surmise that homeless she must be.
But still, some faith has brought her to this spot
where healing strength from God might possibly
renew her spirit- when her life cannot.
The mass soon ends, and I arise and turn-
so now, in front of her, I sadly stand.
She grasps my hand and says, “God Bless, you earn
His blessings- for a heart that understands."
November 16, 2014
Great sun, your day is drawing to a marvelous close.
The horizon seems ablaze as you slowly spill into the turning of night.
Tomorrow we shall see your return,
as you stir sleepy eyes and herald the dawn.
Your arrival brings forth the songbird's call.
Though for now, your departure delivers dreams as we wade into the ether
Knowing that you are gone, but not forgotten..
Beautiful stars, we gaze deeply into your brilliance.
The sheet of darkness dances around your perfect placements.
Wishes and wants whispered towards your travels across the silent sea.
Years and tears have you guided all towards that great shore.
As the chariot of morn arrives, for that brief moment of time
The shimmer of your shine is gone, but not forgotten...
Northern winds in your winter wear,
Whistling as you rush across the barren hills.
All have been held in slowness and slumber
You bring forth a trial of man and also the cries for the new.
As gray gives way, to the colors of tomorrow and the warmth of want.
A chapter closes for three, as your distance grows, gone but not forgotten...
For love is a treasure, one which knows no boundary.
Knows not of time, or of chains and constraints.
It is never ending...
We shall shed a thousand layers
We will hold to one another, even as this earthly realm draws apart.
Gone, but not forgotten....TAH
Trills tumble through an air long silenced
warbled melodies enlighten the palate
whistles delight but fly off to the thistle
freighted by the frigid speak
amongst the downturn of the day
where blue skies lost their way
Memories of warm caresses
sing along in forgotten dreams
eclipsed heat of destiny
dealt away behind a curtain
draping naked rays of beauty
relegated to shroud in faded grey
Faint knocks of glory soon heard
where smiles seep in secret
gone but not forgotten
under blankets of hope
a moon struck douse of patience
left to awaken another day
We are a Melody,
We are what no one can see.
We sing together in perfect harmony,
We rise and fall,
Our souls are big but sometimes small.
The evils haven't caught us all.
Not many of us are left,
Over the ones who perished we have wept.
But we knew the cards we were dealt,
We won't stumble when we look into the eyes of death.
Hand and hand,
We will always sing to the hearts of man.
Untill the very last of our days.
We each made a commitment,
The fears we have makes us stand no different.
To all we may seen forgotten,
Some of us are still remembering the ones who have fought with them,
Remembering when they caught them.
And killed them while they were still singing,
They died for us....so we could continue our purpose among the living.
Along the shadows of the buildings,
Along the Street,
That's where we will be.
We are a melody,
We are ones you can not see.
She fought to the end and was so brave,
now at peace, asleep in her grave.
She stands at the edge of the precipice,
looking down towards her future.
The last tears that she will ever cry,
falling from her eyes,
then falling into oblivion.
She watches them drop
as they disappear forever.
Yet, she laughs in the face of death.
Would it really matter if she took the leap?
She has been forgotten by tomorrow.
The wind blowing at her back,
pushes her to the edge.
Almost agreeing with her final decision,
and encouraging her to jump.
A thousand thoughts and memories
racing through her mind.
Her first day of school.
Her tenth birthday party.
The lonely, awkward days of her teenage years.
The day she discovered poetry.
The moment she first saw him.
The day she thought that she was worth something.
The day when all of that became a lie.
Every memory
that never made the pages of a history book.
She has been forgotten by tomorrow.
She exists to no one but herself.
In the blink of an eye, she decides her fate.
Her feet leave the ground,
and yet, she did not fall.
Out of nowhere he appeared,
and carefully grabbed her hand.
Pulling her back to reality,
saving her from the brink of disaster.
He held her, as her tears stained his jacket.
Old tears of sadness,
mixed with new tears of happiness.
She was remembered by yesterday.
Before she was forgotten by tomorrow.
FORGOTTEN TREASURE
I've found the fountain of youth
When I stumbled across the forbidden garden
Right in the middle of everything
Was what I imagined being a wishing well
I at once tossed a quarter into the sea
Facing down, puzzled as can be
I peeked in to ensure where it fell
I tipped over and that's when I saw my vanity
It was sitting there waiting for me
The reflection was before this day and age
I thought, what could this be?
With one drop on my taste buds
I knew I found the one true key
The most beautiful thing that can set one free
I reached in to touch the poetry inside me
SKAT
I will never forget you ...
each one I love ... gone for Heaven above
my sister left first and years rolled
but I was left silent
no talking
but I heard ...
~ it was grandma who reached into my silent world
and gave me a safe harbor and inspired me to write my pain and sorrow
and I healed under her loving care ~
when my father left me
I was utterly shattered and broken
he had been my rock
I still recall our walks in nature and his sayings
that I now understand ...
~ don't burn the bridges behind you ... you may wish to go back
pick your battles- find the courage to walk away from a fight
hold your friends close to your heart ... and many others as well ~
when my baby died I wept for days and months ....
and my mother held me to her heart
when my husband left shortly after I was left empty
we lost my brother to a senseless war
and when mother left me I was beyond grief ...
like a wilted rose I hung my head
I was a lost balloon floating ... with no true north
but, somehow I found myself again, 'till
grandma left me 'alone' ... in this world
she is the reason I am a writer today ...
~ but, yet again I found a fathomless strength within me
and also found my poetic voice and MUSE
and express myself now ... in poetry and art forms
... broken but okay ... and I will never forget ~
______________________
April 22, 2021
Poetry/Verse/never forgotten
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1348-756-22
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Open Poetry 3,
sponsor, Charlotte Puddifoot, Judged 04/25/2021
Submitted into the Premier contest, Your 2021 N-A Choice poem
Sponsor, William Kekaula, Judged 04/27/2021
Fifth Place
Poem of the Day, April 24, 2021
Submitted to the Premier contest, Your Favorite Poem Of 2021
sponsor, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judged 11/23/2021
First Place
Am l now simply forgotten
Just like that
No longer needed or required
Disposed of , though still intact
So many years and time given
At a drop of a hat
Am l now simply forgotten
Just like that
Another hungry, homeless child will die
Parents have no job, no food, no insurance
Undernourished pregnant woman cry,
The Feds give only lip-service assurance.
Most people think it can’t happen here
That welfare supports these pitiful cases,
But, folks, I tell you many live daily in fear
Here in America … in the forgotten places.
In the backwoods no hospitals even exist
Medical help is a long-drive-by-car away,
If they don’t show up, they’re off the list
Forgotten until a tragedy comes their way.
We think everyone has it as easy as we do
Taking little notice of those in abject poverty
Seldom worrying about making it through,
Neglecting to think about life’s other reality.
Written August 12, 2022
POEM OF THE DAY
Poetry Soup
August 13, 2022
#52 on Best New Poems List
Poetry Soup
October 1, 2022
You are far away now
Off in fields of gold
Dappled with evenings hot velvety light
90 degrees of separation has dulled the sword
eased the pain
The grasshoppers chirp in unison to your labors but they no longer ache in your solar plexus
Nor mine
What sweet sorrow is loss and gain
I now walk down the very paths I have always so longed for
the dark rich peat paths of happiness
contentment oozes from these fingertips as I write and I wonder if happiness is poetry
Or does it preclude it all together
The night sky fills with stars
The stars fill with fire flies that burst out of them like infinitesimal lightning bolts
jettisoned to my soul
he and I chase storms on decks swirled in smoke
We banter and bay at one another
you are in a field of gold somewhere
or beside
a river bed
The smell of the wet earth of shore beneath you reaches me… but momentarily
dismissed as the ash of the bonfire of a week ago fire or the grill of last night’s
unbelievably tasty ribs he concocted from air for me and me alone
but then we shared with so many
dinners
Lingers on my lip tips…the bottom edge
I kiss him and mean it with all I am
A being
a re-being
Super beings are we
all
and our colors wash
upon the canvas of my life
melding into one great magnificent us
Spectacular are we
the creatures who so love life
we give our only begotten selves to each other
and never ever forsake
us
Lucretia Mott
The meeker sex, she was not!
At the convention in Seneca Falls
Showed men aren't the only ones with balls!
1/26/19
For Educate Me with Humor contest
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich