Best Goes Poems
"Grief is the price we pay for love "
Quote - Queen Elizabeth
Don't cry mommy ... I know its hard to say goodbye,
the end has come for me, we knew it would someday;
you always said I was a good cat for these twelve years,
I wanted only your nice pat, your lap and a snack !
I recall our first meeting ... I was cold and scared,
rejected by the world, shivering on your covered porch;
but you did not chase me away ... you brought me food,
at first I hissed a lot, so you named me Grumpy cat !
Eventually, we shared unconditional love each moment,
you cannot save me mommy, I suffer from old age;
the vet told you that I was of years when you found me,
and more years have passed, and they were wonderful !
Imagine me in a beautiful garden lush and green,
sunshine streams through the trees giving some shade;
bird songs fill the air and a breeze is caressing my fur,
this is my Heaven- do you know God hugged me today !
I heard your whisper, "till heaven unites us again Grumpy cat,"
and felt your kisses and your tears falling on my fur;
mommy, imagine me rolling in the cool grass to take a nap,
running and jumping, not old and sick ... like a kitten again !
Thank you mommy for saving me from a life on the street,
and giving me a wonderful life (remember my first bath);
you thought I was black but I became a tabby cat,
I loved you so much and will be waiting at rainbow bridge !
As I draw my last breath I am surround with your love.
___________________
June 03, 2022
Poetry/Personification/Grumpy Goes To Heaven
Copyright Protected, ID 06-1461-418-03
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Poem of the Day, June 4, 2022
It should have been all roses
But little did she know
Naive girl still
in her mama's shell
"There's no such rose without a thorn"
Though stories have been
written in a Bible years ago
Of how Adam bit the apple
Hid his hand so Eve's would show.
Little did She know
Little did She know.
She forgot the unforgotten
On a plate She gave her soul
Never asked the aim of purpose
Holy rules He would impose.
Never thought He wouldn't let her
Live her dreams and reach her goals.
It should have been all roses
but little did She know
Naive girl still
in her mama's shell
"There's no such rose without a thorn";
Wilted petals kept on falling
There was nothing left at all
Tired,bruised,trapped,and abused,
quickly made it to the door.
Left youth's footprints on his pathway,
walked on life-lines of her own.
She remembered the forgotten
Read the bible a hundred times
Revealed Adam' s hand and apple
He was bad and She was blind.
It should have been all roses
But little did She know
Naive girl still
in her mama's shell
"There's no such rose without a thorn";
But now She knows, the way it goes
But now She knows, the way it goes
There's an Eden,There's a garden,
Grey thick thorns to pick a rose,
Thousand apples,one is rotten...
But now She knows, the way it goes
But now She knows ,the way it goes.
Dedicated to all women(could be men too) out there who suffer any kind of physical or mental abuse in a relationship,
Yet remain silent and endure it all.
Now Santa is getting eccentric
His sleigh is now fully electric
He made Rudolph retire
Pressed the red button - ‘Fire’
His world then went totally hectic
He searched for a roof with snow clearing
And found a good landing site nearing
First attempt was a mess
He had no GPS
And no reindeer doing the steering
There was no choice; he had to go back
But he felt he was getting the knack
He then, feeling bolder
Looked over his shoulder
And demolished the next chimney stack
Rudolph, eating sprouts and not grass
Had seen these events come to pass
He helped Santa out
But ate one more sprout
And then put a flame to his ass
“By God, that’s one hasty arrival,
Could you please ensure my survival?”
And Rudolph said, “Sire
I shall stoke my fire,
But promise our team a revival.”
So up in the sky, roof to roof
Relying on sleigh-ski and hoof
Santa got his job done
With a smidgen of fun
And sometimes a butt going ‘poof!’
Born in cloak of modesty, life toddles, yet thrives
Musing of blissful eternity in domain of paradise
Befriending and beholding its virtuous design
Facing triumphs and failures of quests worthwhile
From first breath to last it's a long thrilling ride
As love and desires rule trappings of eager minds
And will to acquire wealth demands equal time
While allure of fame ignites latent spark inside
As maturity gains wisdom it begins to ask why
Things that were treasured once, now fail to satisfy
And glitter that charmed then, now burdens eyes
When meaning of life changes as time goes by
And memories then bemoan venues forgone:
Failing to sail the oceans when tides were calm,
Forsaking kiss of love when nights twinkled stars,
Ignoring golden aura when fervid was the dawn
Precious become moments waning to end the game
When tallies are made of words said and unsaid--
Some seek reconciliation, some still burn the flame,
Some that meant so much, no longer mean the same
July 28, 2019
"Year's end is neither an end nor a beginning but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us." - Hal Borland
Each year goes round, and so I must surmise
that even though four seasons make a year,
we cannot really say when one year dies
or when the brand new year has had its dawn!
At any spot upon this earthly sphere,
we, all of us, are going on and on.
There is no start, so there can be no end.
We try to gather wisdom from the old
to learn from it and then resolve to mend
our future ways, then pass it to our youth.
But wisdom must be valued more than gold
if love and peace on earth would be our truth.
Each year goes round, and so I must surmise
there is no start, so there can be no end!
(A Cornish Sonnet)
As I claim my own parcel of solitude
from yesterday's banging boom,
I see heaven expanding through you
in me: fireflies glow rare as Sunday’s bliss,
never mind if there is a call for patience
when holy hours rise upon the lines of your mouth;
resting on the ledge of a private oasis.
This I cannot enter... the night curfew drifts
gently and quietly yet full of love's spaces;
O the hush of your mouth tender as harp's rhythm
I want to kiss.
My parcel of quietude becomes yours
while we listen to the same monastic silence,
gazing at clouds alone and together
until we rest lovingly inside our gentle, holy world.
Into near midnight with eyes closed, we slumber and then...
John Hamilton's Your Best Free Verse Love Poem--2
2/19/2017
Sometimes on Discovery TV,
there's time-lapse to teach and dazzle us.
We might see that naked jay (before he's turned to blue)
in just mere moments transforming!
He masquerades in feathers and quickly grows.
Maybe we will witness the feeble endeavors
which finally propel him into flight;
as the camera follows him, he goes. . .
On some enchanted tropic isle
is the species of a tree
that some of us have never seen.
The camera's eye might focus
on a random bud among its glossy leaves.
Soon it blossoms pink petals
and if we watch some more,
perhaps we'll see the purple of its star apple emerging.
Then we'll see it grow,
and if left not plucked, shrivel up and go. . .
We are but mere ions
in the spectrum of a universe
we've entered through a magic door.
Miraculously born, we grow.
But at first it all seems so slow. . .
Then one day we try our wings.
Some of us may soar.
Others, like an apple never tried, will fall.
But all of us will look back before we go,
and we'll think how much it seemed a dream.
Time always goes. . . .
and then
we're
gone.
From a wheatfield's tapestry
I embrace again my childlike wanderings...
a time I deeply remember
when I played without restraint...
our murmurs still squeaking with every
rhythm of past rougish pleasures:
Swooping into a time tunnel
and chasing late summer leaves;
I am still in awe of duskfall's wild hunts...
those bouncy trails of recklessness
mirroring my youth's enthusiasm.
How we fought gothic pirates untold
across a tousled upland,
then down again through muddy creeks
and grass alike, slingshots whacking
the likes of Captain Hook;
As four gang mates of the Lost Boys roar
'The Pan is with us', and Tiger Lily too;
embarking yet on another episode
till my pals and I invade a shipwreck trap.
~
It is late September again...I reminisce
about this raucous ritual of wild carousals
where I would throw fear to the winds,
where my soul dares the invincible...
my imaginary friends and I walking on air,
designing unbridled fancy against real time:
My dream-like squad is somehow gone
lost in the slings of innocence...
that age of pubescence can be cruel, rude
that treacherous moment when
our wheatfield grows old with me...
Now I gently sob and smile...and yet,
that tableu of shimmering gaiety
still enriches my inner child--
with untamed, Pan- like curiosity.
Antares' red glow bears firmly down
upon plush, chartreuse carpet
lying prone against the obsidian expanse,
blanketing sections of a remote
blue sphere, purling,
spinning helplessly
through distant time and space;
slave to routine and rotation,
never daring to break free;
to reach out.
Scorpius sprawls low
across the Autumn void;
a celestial corpse
twinkling, twitching;
inexplicably still breathing,
expelling the last
of her precious plexine light
in a final, desperate act
to awake inspiration, stir passion,
proffer wholeness and healing
to an infirmed, ungrateful planet,
for her end-of-reign recession.
Projecting dreams; visions
like swirling Akashic holograms
leaping forth from ancient pages
of ethereal records,
all but lost to time and apathy.
Twisting snakelike through the cosmos,
her broody gaze steeling
in every direction;
fierce energy bombarding;
burning across the universe.
Intense joules bursting forth;
reaching out to nurture
willing universal souls;
scorching those who reject her,
turning them to table fodder
at a divine banquet
for dark gods.
Sagittarius flickers jovially behind
as if breathless with laughter;
taunting, frustrating,
staying just out of reach
of her vengeful tail.
The rule of Scorpio wanes
upon Orion's horizontal breach
extinguishing the sting-ed cluster;
quelling her tumultuous surge
until late-spring pains
rebirth her fires,
igniting them, emerging again
from the icy chasm
of black oblivion.
So it goes
Easy to pen poetry in the light of day
much more for the eye to see
washed away her shadow of night
anyway,
yeah..,
try and explain it to my heart
that longs for you..
wills it to..
go dark.
Easy to land long strokes
smooth movement in pen's pace
knows it's almost time
to trace fine lines of a face
I have to hold it in
still too bright,
stretch my neck
feelin onset
of your twilight..
So easy writing by candle's glow
from one who knows
how to separate
thorn from rose.
So it goes
Time goes by the way it does,
and we can't catch up,
and so we don't.
People put us in the recesses
of their minds, but we are still here.
And they are still there, I suppose.
I often wonder ... but ...
I've been told not to.
Limericks written in Limerku form where words are counted, not syllables.
To some contest hosts, it seems to be very inconsequential
Perhaps they see poetry by a living brain as nonessential
What a disservice to the human hand
When AI poetry should receive a reprimand
Users have no shame in winning. They're positively nonpenitential
So easily now they've learned how to cheat by utilizing
the way AI allows, by using the means of humanizing
No hesitation over which buttons to click
and what they post is a goldbrick
Lines of blah blah blah, unappetizing that needs closer analyzing
The sponsors I continue to write for have dwindled low
Never would I post something that was empty of emo
Poetry should come from heart and soul
And if anyone cares... truth be told
Those who take unearned wins, I label them a bozo
I'm searching for a new man.
(My lemon quit on me.)
I'm a discerning seeker.
(The smallest dent, I'll see!)
I want a younger fellow;
(Low mileage is a must.)
Required is great get-up-and-go
(an engine with no rust).
He should desire me in his lap.
(Seat warmers feel so good.)
He's gotta be in tiptop shape.
(I'll know what's under the hood!)
Low-maintenance, I value.
(oil changes quarterly)
He must look good and make me proud.
(Buffed shine, I love to see.)
Trustworthiness, I so desire.
(Don't like those tow truck calls!)
He must always keep pace with me.
(Don't want a thing that stalls.)
April 1, 2017--entered in Brian Strand's April 2017 Premier Contest
She Goes Back
By Lillian J. Jeffrey
Whispers flow like a river
she will be sold
sold or rented like a cash crop
Born on a Maryland plantation
her mother works the big house
Harriet runs barefoot in the woods
side by side her brothers, nursemaids
her younger brother, childhood ends at five
She is rented, sleeps on a cold, cold floor
shares food scraps with dogs
wounds yarn slow they say
checks muskrat traps in marshes
barefoot in icy waters she looks
Her lungs fill, fill with fluid, her body burns
she is sent back coughing, coughing, holds on
fights off bronchitis and measles
her mother helps nurse her back
Rented to take care of a baby, clean house
the baby cries, she’s whipped, whipped, she runs
runs like the wind, tumbles into a pig pen
pig fights for potato peels
Her stomach empty, rumbles, she
returns to her mistress, the whippings set
her back on fire, she is sent back.
Rented, rented to load lumber
hears Nat Turner led a revolt
losses fighting for freedom
rebellions spark hope in her heart
whispers spread she will be sold
Her master dies, the new master
rents her to a local builder
the builder permits her to rent herself
she makes money, saves, saves, runs, runs
bends with the wind.
Empty of fear, full of dreams of freedom
doors open, slips of paper lead her way
through the Underground Railroad,
a network of shifting safe houses
Her heart skips a beat,
beads of sweat roll, roll down her cheeks
she crosses, crosses the Mason-Dixon Line.
Free at last, lonely, life stands still
like a still life of shells and bones
she is cut off, she longs, longs for her family
The sounds of rattling chains, cracking whips,
echo in her ears, she hears her mother’s
cry, hears her mother's cry, she goes back,
helps her family, friends escape, escape
on foot, through cemeteries, swamps,
around hills, she never losses a passenger.
A will as strong as a rock
a will to endure, persevere
a will to help others
nineteen times she goes back
Shoes worn, spirits strong
more than three hundred slaves escape
Harriet Tubman is nicknamed “Moses”
for her fearless bravery,
thump, thump, thump
bounty hunters on her trail.
For P.D's "Going Haiku Crazy" Contest
How Many?
going to St. Ives
met folks on that smelly bus
more than I could count
Just Sleep Walking?
Wee Willy Winky
caught outside a boy’s window
in a night garment
Got Wool?
naked in the lane
three bags-full of wool sheared off
baa baa black sheep fleeced
She Didn’t Know What to Do!
Kids’ cries from inside -
outside an old woman’s shoe
child welfare people
Clean Your Plate!
Licking their plates clean
Jack Sprat and wife do their part. . .
kids starve in China
The Treacherous Hill
pail of spilled water
Jill’s body sprawled over Jack’s
one big bloody mess
What a Ding Dong
good deed for the day
boy scout Tommy Stout by well. . .
scratches on his arm
Not Even a Bone
old Mother Hubbard
Social Security cut
dog needs a new home
Yellow Georgie
victims of Porgie
confront him in the playground
his true color shows
The Original Blonde
Bo peep loses sheep
birth of a new tradition. . .
blonde jokes being told
The Schemer
some spilled curds and whey
spider near a fallen chair
supping happily
Making the Best. . .
Humpty takes a spill
the whole army can’t fix him
omelets for lunch
Baby Catches On
the church and steeple
and now you show me people?
those are just fingers!
They Say He Couldn’t Keep Her!
gossip in the town
pumpkin shell big as a house. .
where is Peter’s wife?
Bye, Hushed Baby
the sound of wind’s rush
baby’s cries abruptly hushed
broken branch on ground
*I'm choosing this series of haiku for several reasons.
First, it's the only post I made named "Twisted" so it
is an obvious choice. Second, I do have other poems
I consider a bit twisted, but, I simply cannot
remember the titles of some of these really old poems
to look for them. Finally, this series was inspired by
a long ago contest of PD's in which I got the idea
to take nursery rhymes and twist them, and so
I'm reviving this series which can no longer be
viewed by anybody here unless it's in a contest!