Best Hampers Poems
What’s it about for them, then
Loneliness, poverty, pain
Bang of the bailiff at the door
Death in a ditch in the rain
What is it like for the Joneses
Bigger and better you think
Posh port and pigs in blankets
Sick in the kitchen sink
What’s it about for him, then
A clock, and an empty chair
Picture of her on the mantelpiece
Candle smoke curls in the air
What is it like for her, do you think
Hairdo and heels and hurrah
Hampers and champers from Harrods
Packed in to Daddy’s car
What’s it about for the Christians
The return of the sacred child
Under a star in a stable bare
Jesus, meek and mild
What is it like for the Druids, then
Stood in the circle at dawn
Frost on the moss on frozen stone
Lit by the sun reborn
What’s it about for the children
Mysterious, glittery, bright
Hope of a mythic benevolence
Come as a thief in the night
What is it like for us, then
Rushing and spending and stressing
Cursing the souls in the queue at the till
Or kissing a friend with a blessing
What will it be like for you, then
Whatever you will it to be
Riotous ostentation, or
Peace and sweet charity
What it’s about for me is this
One white and holy dove
The silence after the shops have shut
And love
© Gail Foster 3rd December 2016
New city street
With the wink of an eye
and a shuffle of feet
We wandered about
down a new city street
Where vendors wore blue
with a tangerine sash
In hopes to look good
with no chance it would clash
Their carts were adorned
with ribbons and beads
And funny designs
made of cantaloupe seeds
They hollered and bellowed
and beckoned us near
And when we did stop,
they let out a loud cheer
They offered us products
like peanuts with cheese
And daffodil handkerchiefs
in case we sneeze
Belts made of feathers
with buckles in red
And weird little cones
you could wear on your head
We bid and we haggled
but always were nice
To get a good deal
and a much better price
The street lined with houses,
most two stories high
With windows like shamrocks
reflecting the sky
The balconies all featured
ribbons and bows
That hung from the railings
such colorful throws
Where women were calling
to neighbors across
For clothes pins and hampers
they hoped they would toss
They spoke in a language
so funny to hear
For what they were saying
was not always clear
The men were all mending
and tending the place
Their hats cockled sideways,
a grin on their face
The knees of their jeans
were all covered in patches
While they polished the brass
on the handles and latches
It seems they were singing
an old fashioned song
We tried to join in
as we walked right along
We laughed and we giggled
so much fun was had
But we had to leave
and that made us both sad
So we promised each other
that we both would meet
Again very soon
on this new city street
THE LENTINI CURSE
A moment please, as I try to think upon it
A number of rules to apply in fourteen lines
It seems that it could be one form of sonnet
Four lines per stanza that a quatrain defines
If paid by the word, such a pity it’s not billable
For the poetic accountant, a natural proclivity
The time cost is counting every damn syllable
It ends up as a dampener on one’s creativity
Please note there’s the petty rules of rhyme
And it must also end with a two line refrain
Some may even say that it’s a waste of time
I’m not too sure that I’ll write another again
So I’ll wrap it up now, at least for this session
As it really hampers my freedom of expression
I wish to be a poet
So I keep writing poetry
Without knowing any technique
Nor I know anything about it
So I blindly use words rhyming
At the end, in the middle or beginning
But slowly I learn though it enhances its sweetness
But hampers the way blossoming the theme
So I need a shift which I take
And turn to tell truths
By virtue of their convictions
They become books of logic or philosophy
But they never become anything like poetry
Again I need a change which I take
And set to use figure of speech
Then, they become
‘’This is like that
That is like this ‘’
Again I need a change quickly which I take
Since then at every point
I keep changing
Like a river
And let emotions flow like water
Still I wonder
If they turn into a poem
Or remain a stream of gushing murmur.
I shall confess my secret aim:
To make you mine is what I plan;
But would you want me as your man?
I wonder how to light your flame;
And if you’ve even noticed me.
Are you alone - or can’t it be?
How can I get to know your name?
I dream about you night and day;
Yet shyness hampers words I’d say.
My heart is true, you’re not a game;
I offer more than just romance;
So please agree to take a chance.
But could you ever feel the same?
I write these lines and long for you;
And hope you’re thinking of me too…
I shall confess my secret aim:
I wonder how to light your flame;
How can I get to know your name?
My heart is true, you’re not a game;
But could you ever feel the same?
For Craig’s Constanza contest, written 18th December
The rains have lasted all the spring.
We’re longing for some sun.
With advent of the end of school
We look to June for fun.
The kids have found their bathing suits
And have them at the ready.
It’s not fair in vacation time
For rains to pour so steady.
The first nice weekend that we have,
We know where we’ll be going.
They have the hampers all cleaned out
For picnic food we’re stowing.
I will rise early on that day
And chicken I’ll be frying.
They each will ask for favorite foods
To please them, I’ll be trying.
Their daddy will gas up the car
And tell us all to hurry.
He’ll want to go while sun is out
And weather not a worry.
We’re heading for Cranberry Lake
Next to the picnic ground
Separating the two waters.
The other side is Puget Sound.
It’s all part of Deception Park,
Every visitor’s destination
When they’re in Northwest Washington,
One of most scenic states in Nation.
There will be a crowd of other folks,
All soaking up the sun
And trying out the waters
Eager for some summer fun.
Our son will try the diving board
To prove he can be bold,
The girls will test lake gingerly
and howl if it's too cold.
They will have hearty appetites
For all my picnic fixings.
I will have brought potato salad
And other salad mixing’s.
Chocolate cake and water melon,
Will be part of the desserts.
By now we are so hungry
We will eat until it hurts.
We’ll go home at the end of day
All happy and contented.
It has been one more special time
To keep us all cemented.
For Carol's " Picnic Time"contest Won no. 4
Fear hampers success and innovation,
Many health problems, fear a causation
With fear our happiness we restrain
Out of fear we endure persisting pain.
All have some fear or another
They give agony one after other
I had fear of dark
It was very stark
Feared ghost will accost me
From dark places, I would flee
One day, I decided to end it
Walked in dark with grit
I trembled with fear
Felt ghost was near
More I thought, more fear grew
It was my imagination I knew
Asked myself what will it do?
What harm can happen to you?
I will continue my walk
Let the ghost stalk
It is not human, cannot harm me
Why fear when God is with thee?
Nothing happened that night
That incident ended my fright
When by fear to you are hit
Take a close look at it
Many times, solutions you'll find
If you can't, change your mind
Most fears are mere imagination, baseless,
Probability of others coming true is very less.
We often fear the unknown,
Such fears are best overthrown.
Fears arise from worldly attachments
End when we practice detachment
Why fear for the transient, the dying
Why not think of the soul, God, the undying
A firm faith in God, belief he'll not do bad
Keeps fear away, we are never sad
We are not this body which is mortal
We are the soul, we are immortal
Our soul part of God, exists within him
Chances of self harm, indeed very dim
Little fear is essential in life
It helps to prevent strife
But fear given for self-protection
Is often blown out of proportion
Face your fear, don't drown in them
Maintain calm when they come
If we boldly face our fear,
they might just disappear.
27.08.2021
Nothing can dim the glow of my joy
Those meaningful moments which I still recall.
I find certain happiness yet silence in time
With occupying thoughts that always cross my mind.
Along the stream of consciousness, there’s a hidden message
I may be attentive, yet time creeps so fast.
There’s difficulty that hampers me though
A busload of burdens that wrap me till night.
On and off, I turn to gaze at these things
Wholly appreciative that counts twice as much.
The richness in spirit opens my heart to beat
Like a dancing note that jumps over the keyboard.
I look at the beauty of Verona in its history
With great admiration to highlight its civilisation
The arena for instance that shows an immense performance
Of Shakespearean plays so romantic but tragic ones.
Moving back and fro, I see the rhythm and sign
Of our very lives so unique to confront
It is our attitude to bring the gifts of ourselves
In this present life where we struggle and live our faith.
Hey, Peyton, remember the time
When the snow was melted along with the rime?
When the sun was mild and the weather sublime?
We went out on picnic away from the dust and the grime.
We all took our hampers with fruit and some lime,
(I brought along some candy, bought out for a dime).
Momma packed some sandwiches with bacon which was prime,
And some very fine chutney of rosemary and thyme.
While my cousins and mom played charades and mime,
Off we both went for the grassy knoll to climb.
Our laughter peeled, tinkling like wood chime,
You were the prince, I was your heim.
Peyton, I remember that it was close to lunchtime,
I rode piggyback for no reason or rhyme.
You slipped of a sudden as you stepped on some slime,
We tumbled and rolled down the slippery 'cline.
I am sorry, dear Peyton, real sorry I 'm,
It was in fun, in those days of playtime.
I'd've done it again if there was another time,
For kid's to be prankish is never a crime!
(How's this for Mom's contest of Monorhyme?)
~25 May 2016~
Six Days of Christmas
On the first day of Christmas my MP had for free:
A partridge with all the trimmings.
It didn’t come from Aldi
On the second day of Christmas my MP had on me:
Two vintage Champagnes, a partridge with all the trimmings
And nothing came from Aldi
On the third day of Christmas my MP had on me:
Three Harrod’s Hampers, two vintage Champagnes,
A partridge with all the trimmings
And nothing came from Aldi.
On the fourth day of Christmas my MP had on me:
Four new suits, three Harrod’s hampers, two vintage champagnes
A partridge with all the trimmings,
And nothing came from Aldi
On the fifth day of Christmas my MP had on me:
Five houses rent free!! four new suits, three Harrod’s hampers,
Two vintage Champagnes, a partridge with all the trimmings
And nothing came from Aldi.
On the sixth day of Christmas the MPs did to me:
Lied through their teeth
Raised inheritance tax,
Froze all the pensioners,
Put thousands out of work
Crippled the economy
Cancelled local elections
Gave 50 million to terrorists
While I ate a sandwich from Aldi.
David Cox 22/11/2022
scrolling
my friend scrolling
all I'm ever doings searching
upon the nets of mother spider - tis the nature of the beast
with sharper teeth a bigger mouth-without famine is no feast
For I once had known a leper who was eaten by leopard
Now the sheep have taken arms but to rip apart the Sheppard
what a subtle revelation in my mind I've found vacation
but the sands of time do torment those who choose an allocation
cometh now my saddest child, weep to me all things are foul
I have wandered fields of flander - Families dead inside their camper
death is still above the reads, skin and bones is all we keep
wooded hampers full of damper, sons and daughters, tin decanters
God invisible, inaccessible in dark and light,
Total space of universe, and still presence in mystery masked like night
Where every part of me fintely in infinite you is traced
To whatever mountain height my fragile form found safe
There so wide depth outside our insecure depth of fall
Seasoning me to mirage of space, an hermit from your grace.
You are the all of every grain of sand, an eternity to know
My wayward ways wander witless in the palm of your widthless hand
With promised presence present in my grief alone.
What then to that huddled lump of breath you meant before his sin
What then shall I frightend and fumbling since the fall expect again
When writhing on your cross, you in my skin felt no other pain
Acessibility makes loneliness long history hampers pain
The fragment broke my dual claim of rib and heart before you came
Love alienated from its peace, forsook sin to be closer drawn to you.
Yet omnipresent here already how much closer is content
Was the woman more, a hidden all of you in me, visible all from you
Give me grace that the questions may from troubled search relent
The Gathering
Brought together.
Late summer along the North Platte
At the wandering river bed flanked by cottonwoods.
They have been drawn, emptying out their small town for the celebration to come.
Driving in Packard’s, Ford Coupes, and old dented red Chevrolet pickups with hay stalks
and a pitch fork scattered in the bed.
Hot, steamy hot; hot enough to hear the corn grow in the silence of crickets and cicadas.
Women in their finery-hats, long cotton dresses, rolled stocking tops,
Tight uncomfortable church going shoes.
Talk about home and children and prices and school year to come, dreams.
Men leaning against the back drop cars.
Coats shed in the heat, braces hold the cotton trousers up to the shirts
Now stained with the sweat marks under their arms.
Well used hands with blunt fingers from the farm work and
Forearms from milking.
Talk of summer ball, American Caesar and the faraway places called Chosin and Korea.
Wooden hampers filled with cold chicken, home canned pickles, tomatoes and beans, deviled eggs,
Potato salad, iced tea in gallons, melting fresh churned ice cream.
Day runs over, complete for the celebration of joining two to make one
Forever, or at least until the end of their time.
Christmas season is here again
A season that calls for celebration
A time set aside to remember the birth of the king of kings
Let us go into this season with our hearts full of praises
As we give our Christmas gifts of golds, myrrhs and frankincenses to our king
While our houses are decorated with Christmas signatures, our Christmas decorations
What a season to share, love and re-activate the significance of the birth of the king
A time and period to remember
A season that caresses with joy and happiness leaving pain and sadness without attention
A season where the Christmas lights glow-shinning brighter than ever before
The Christmas bells jingle as the people sing aloud Christmas carols and mingle
Hearts are full of praises, excitement fills the air
Angels ascend and descend with gifts as we proceed into a new year
The snowman resurfaces not wanting-unwilling to miss out of this joyful Christmas season
Christmas hampers fill every home, indeed Christmas season leaves us with a feeling of
joyful happiness to behold
The mistletoe sprouts curling its way around homes
Christmas trees emerge in every home as snowflakes descend
Christmas cards are delivered to spread the love and celebration across every home, town,
street, city, community, continent, region, and world
The sounds of Christmas carols soar into the clouds, echoing into the membranes of the earth
The Candle lights shine bright in this Christmas season
Christmas eases the pain of January to November
With the Christmas bells “gingling”
We make Christmas wishes and hope Santa delivers our Christmas gifts
Can you hear the Christmas carols setting the template for the Christmas feeling ?
An indeed reuniting season
Christmas hampers and gifts go round every family
Christmas candles light the world
“Oh Christmas tree” sings the Christmas trees
Jiggle your Christmas bells aloud and let the Christmas cards and pictures give us
memories of the lovely and beautiful Christmas moments we shared.
O teachers pack up and go to bed
The brain is sizzled in their head
Reality disagrees with what is said
The living are not better than the dead
Do you still sing when you are paid
And skip in your works success
Can you convince them you are unafraid
For new fomenting wilderness?
How you furnish them for commerce and trade
And slot them as the market call
You traffic them money for their grade
And no blanket for their fall.
Things are not the same as yesterday
A wiser generation rise
They know the things we hide away
The fire brims their eyes.
O teachers let our children be children just
Once more, give them room to play
Unsaddle them from the hampers of trust
That upon their young lives weigh
The commercial concerns corners them so
Early, they have no lattitude to think
Liesure is room for a child to grow
The pressuring school made most shrink
O teachers school them beyond classrooms
Take to the mountains to explore
Challenge them to surive where icicles loom
Let them frolic on a sandy shore
And create temporal monuments of love
Here in nature is the school
That the best in the worst of us prove
Guide them with trust as a tool.