Best Freckles Poems
I was enjoying my time in the sandbox
When a redhead with freckles climbed in.
The glint in his eyes left no question,
His mission was ruin and sin.
With my pail I had sculpted a castle,
But he eyed it with fiendish disdain.
His foot was the boot of destruction,
And he smashed it without any shame.
He laughed when he saw my reaction,
Through my tears I could tell he was glad.
My first lesson was learned in that sandbox,
There's nothing can keep out the bad.
I discerned that the boy with the freckles,
Had no interest in making a friend.
Though he had the face of an angel,
His looks hid a devil within.
I met him again in the school yard,
He was older and meaner by then.
He twisted my arm back behind me,
And insisted that I holler out, "When!"
I wish I could boast I played hero,
But he scared me out of my wits.
He growled "say when or I'll break it."
And I knew that I dare not resist.
All through the rest of my school days,
He tormented me whenever he could.
I spent way too much time in hiding,
Too fearful to do what I should.
We crossed paths again playing soccer,
And of course we were on different teams.
His attacks were not part of the playing,
He got off on the pain and the screams.
We never met while I was in college,
Though I heard he had landed in jail.
I wasn't glad at all that it happened,
Till I though of that sandbox and pail.
Like all lights at the end of the tunnel,
Aren't those that you wish would remain.
For a light in the darkness can fool you,
And turn out to be an on-coming train.
There's no judging a book by its cover,
So I caution you girls, "stay alert."
Some of those boys who have freckles,
Are devils who love bringing you hurt.
Nursery Rhyme
Children's Short story (Rhyme)
Little Ellie, loves her freckles
she counts them every night,
her friends call her 'Ellie speckles'
which fills her with delight!
she traces them with her finger
before she rests her head
in the mirror, she lingers
dallying if the truth be said,
little Ellie, loves her freckles
she bathes them every night,
her friends call her 'Ellie speckles'
which fills her with delight!
this night was like no other,
she froze in utter despair
screaming down to her mother
who came running up the stairs,
little Ellie, loves her freckles
she reads to them, every night
her friends call her 'Ellie speckles'
which fills her with delight!
vanished had Ellie's freckles
She had washed them off again ~
still wanting to be 'Ellie Speckles'
she drew them back with a pen
Born in 1921, somewhere in Wyoming, born to ride wild stock
Started at sixteen, hung up his spurs at 53
Thirty Seven years of riding broncs and bulls
Made his home aboard outlawed livestock
Riding with broken bones and paying his fees
Night after night, on them old bone breaking bulls
December 1, 1967, was Freckle's biggest night of all
National Finals Rodeo, Oklahoma City, on a bull, Tornado
No ordinary bull, no ordinary cowboy
The two were the best in the world, who would take the fall
The test between Freckles and Tornado
Who would win, beast or cowboy
Tornado, 1850 pound Braford stick of dynamite
Never had been rode in 220 times bucked out
He was out of World Champion Jim Shoulder's bucking string
Brown was forty seven at the time, was in the spot light
Had a broken neck the year before, he had little doubt
He wanted the eight second bell to ring
A full house that night, waiting for the cream of the crop
Then the explosion out of Chute # 2, Tornado came out high and wide
Into a spin and wrapped it up tight, trying to loose his load
Freckles riding the horrible hurricane, was still on top
One of Rodeo's most famous bull ride
Tornado knew that he had been rode
Spurs dug into the rope, toes turned out, free hand in the air
Victory was his at the eight second bell, life was never so sweet
Freckles rode the baddest of them all
That night Tornado never really had a prayer
The King of Rodeo rode him to defeat
Freckles Brown was to rodeo as Babe Ruth was to baseball
As the temperature starts to rise
A surprise I see before my eyes
Lots more tiny golden speckles
the mystery and beauty of freckles.
once at school my friend said I look like
I had been sun bathing under a tea strainer
now I see what she meant, hundreds of them on my arms
the hotter it's getting more are appearing LOL but it's just another blessing from God
Freckly freckled face
Freckling facial features form
Featuring freckles
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature4.php
Dancing freckles every day
Every day I see you smile
Every time I hold your hand
And walk with you a while
Tiny freckles dancing
Lift me for a while
Dance across your nose
Every time you smile
A hint of faded love
Every time I miss you
Dancing all the while
Every time I kiss you
It's been a lonely time
Haven't seen your freckles dance
Such a loving time with you
Wish I had the chance
Love to call you up
See your for a while
See your freckles dancing
Love to see you smile
I can only promise
Love you every day
Every day I see you smile
Every loving way
Fairy freckles fade with your smile
Once bright as the s’mores summer stars
In midnight. Then… something captured you.
It took you to a darkness where
Stars once bright as the s’mores summer
Couldn’t be seen. And… some monster…
It took you to a darkness where
I didn’t even see you, you
Couldn’t be seen. And… some monster..
Tortured you, leaving mental scars.
I didn’t even see you, you
Were too good at hiding as it
Tortured you, leaving mental scars.
In midnight… something captured you. You
Were too good at hiding as your
Fairly freckles faded with your smile.
Author's note: I dug deep into my archives chest to retrieve this piece of utter nonsense, dear readers, because I thought it would make a good submission for April Fool's Day...
Freckles!
People who have freckles
Are sometimes people who eat pickles.
But pickles have bumps,
They don't have freckles.
Bumpy people are often fickle
And won't eat pickles without freckles.
A squash with speckles might be pickled,
But is no sub for freckled pickles,
Which is being pickle fickle.
If someone earned a nickel
For every pickle with a freckle,
He'd have to gorge on hordes of pickles
Just to make one lousy nickel.
Now I'm in a poetic pickle
And my brain is overworkin',
So freckled people don't be fickle,
Avoid the sun and eat a gherkin.
Autor's PS: This piece, as I recall, started out to be a parody of the song "People" from the musical "Funny Girl", but quickly took a very sharp left turn and turned out quite differently.
I wish I had freckles the eight-year-old said.
These are age spots, replied her great-grandmother.
Then I want them, the child replied. Because I like them.
Her parents were not surprised at her instant freckles.
Remember, the mommy said, “this was my grandma too.”
“And I have heard the stories,” said Daddy. “Now I believe.”
Blemish and blunder.
Upon my face they thunder!
Speckled paint splattered down and around my nose,
where else might I find these spots, no one knows.
These spots, these useless spots,
are they God's gift, or a curse that reeks,
obsessed over these pocks upon my soul and cheeks.
Whether dark or light.... red or brown, or as black as a brat,
ponder this..... they stand out and proclaim..... I'm different, Oh drat!
Please leave me and go away, never to come back another day.
Plague another with your stress, for you've left my face a mess!
With eyelashes fluttering, irises caught in a blink,
those windows of yours are opening and closing
like a metronome ticking time to symphonies played.
Within flesh are entrances cradling a floor to nowhere,
leading to a somewhere hidden to all but you. Pebbles
could be placed upon freckles to map out a path; bundles
of autumnal leaves, crunching and burnt amber, could form
steps upon the arch of your nose. Perhaps swimming against tears
upstream, leaping with rainbow salmon, I might reach the
precipice of your eyes. I could scale down branches bowing, from
fringe and eyebrows, lowering myself onto your golden lids.
Those doorways to nowhere, to somewhere, to anywhere, see
the future ebb and flow into a momentary present, with
visions hidden under a lock-and-key past. Those eyes of yours
I could dive into, like gravity plucking fruit from a vine.
Blackened Silhouettes Fill The Skies
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blackened silhouettes fill the skies, freckles.
The setting sun blocked by bats, in millions!
Hairs on my dogs back stood up, his heckles.
The black silhouetted bats, amazing!
Bats' freckles, natures vaudevillians!
New lands tonight, instinctive trailblazing,
they know this night certain bugs fly, mating,
yes procreating in untold billions!
Moon, now up, bats fed, have babies waiting.
In how many caves, babe bats' in trillions!
Rhyme Time 4- 10 Lines Poetry Contest - Sponsored by Laura Loo
06/08/18
Afternoon, the sun is hot
Freckles and sun burns, I've got a lot
Reminding me of sunny days
I used to write under sun's rays
The memories on my skin
Of sunny places that I have been
Freckles and sun burns they play
The memories of my yesterday
Orange mid-October freckles blemish the trees,
while Jack Frost etches abstracts on cold window panes.
And cinnamon-colored leaves fall with each brisk breeze
as Winter subtly approaches, and Summer strains
to maintain green canopies till November's freeze.
morning heat bakes my bones
warms my skin
I turn my face up for more freckles
I stand in the yard
close my eyes
encompassed by
hot pushing heat waves
the dog leans
heavily against me
lets go
its too hot
he is panting
thinking of his baby pool in the yard
I am absorbing as much summer as I can
this is the day I will remember
in January