Best Homegrown Poems
Sawing logs, one after another
Into two feet lengths
Just for the specific purpose
Of standing them up on the ground
Awaiting the iron axe
That will create a comforting
Roaring fire in the hearth
Come this winter’s cold
Canning fruits and vegetables
To store on the shelves
Awaiting the moment in time
When they’ll be lifted out
And opened slowly, carefully
With appreciation for the color
The scent and deliciousness
Of a homegrown and canned food
Cutting down hay in the field
Tractor moving slowly, assuredly
Taking the blade to the grass
Green and pungent scented
Covering the field with what will
Be racked up into piles for
Baling and creating a treasure
For the barn to store for cattle
There is no place like home
I represent the black, green and gold.
Out of many, we are one people, driven to succeed
Global excellence is our only mission to achieve.
Reggae and dancehall are the rhythm and beat in our feet
Only champions are born here
Marley, Louise Bennett and Bolt are all homegrown.
With blood, sweat and tears, we work hard for our own …this is the Jamaican way.
I come from a great nation, with people of strength and determination. I am proud to call myself Jamaican.
We move to one love and drink our Jamaican white rum …this is the land we love.
The aroma of blue mountain coffee mixed in the morning air, the taste of ackee and saltfish with a little roast breadfruit are heavenly delights only a Jamaican can understand, the national dish of our homeland.
Look at our smiles we celebrate 60 years in grand style.
No matter where we are, yard or abroad with heads held high we are proud to call ourselves Jamaicans.
We celebrate Jamaica's 60 years of independence by re-igniting our greatness within all who call themselves Jamaicans.
"I am Jamaican"
Love has hit me so hard
Left me damn near crazy.
I met the perfect woman
Who never ceases to amaze me.
Who's beauty is flawless
She has grace & style
Her eyes captivate me
& so does her smile.
Her long beautiful hair
Gets curly & falls over her eyes.
All natural, Homegrown
No weave to my surprise.
I love her perfectly shaped legs
So firm, so thick.
Women envy her beauty
It just make them sick.
She has a spirit that draws you in
Just like a magnet.
The first time I saw her
I knew I just had to have it.
Her love for God
Is what I love most of all.
Even he's memorized by her
Because he answers, when she calls.
Her name is Leesah
She has stolen my heart.
She's become
My beginning, my end, my finish, my start.
That may not make sense to you
But that was only meant for her to understand.
I love when I'm with her
I become the envy of every man.
I love how she is
So spiritually tuned.
She's special, one of a kind
& it's my heart she's consumed.
Leesah is my drug
I need her daily, for my fix.
Leesah is a habit
That I would never dare kick.
She could go anywhere in the world
& my love will go find her.
My love will be in front of her
Never behind her.
She'll know that I Love Her
Because everyday I'll remind her.
I'll never mentally hold her down
Or emotionally bind her.
I want to give her the world
& everything in it.
I'm in it for the long haul
I'm in it to win it.
Leesah is so perfect
She leaves me in a daze.
If you knew her
You too would be amazed.
She's a Queen a Goddess
She's so real, so true.
Leesah too bad
I never said these things to you.
Now I am all alone
Just me, myself & I
No Leesah, just this Jones.
Mama and Granny
Herded children through the kitchen
Out the screen door, to the yard
Where we wouldn’t be underfoot
Cousins all brown from summer
Sun baking soft skin and erasing
The loneliness of winter from
Hillbilly faces – cotton topped
Tresses white since birth, curled
Mama and Granny
Yelling loudly from the kitchen
“it’s time to eat – come get it”
Little bellies churned eagerly
Fried chicken – a leg I chose
Mashed taters and gravy
Biscuits from soft, white dough
Baked in a wood cookstove
Mama and Granny
Piled plates full of food
For hungry eyes who dove in
Before grace could be voiced
After pie and cake and everything
We could partake of – Sunday dinner
Washed down with sweet tea
And a bottle of love, homegrown
Happy and hopeful - we had no fears
Mama and Granny
Murmured quietly, taking turns
Rubbing plates and pots and pans
With the Joy that was Granny’s detergent
After dinner, we played – screaming
With pleasure that comes from
Sharing hearts and lives
With the ones you call family
The gifts from God’s loving nature
Twas exhausted night before Thanksgiving,
after few eggnog Whiskeys, relieving.
Awful chilling and spooky,
Boo-hoo, the turkey soupy,
Homegrown, fear fill eyes were unforgiving.
In the beginning the Lord created a great deep,
So deep that no eye saw anything but obscurity.
This deep we now by name call the heavens,
Accompanied by the creation of great vacancy-
A formless void that is uninterrupted by shapes.
It is the undefinable foundation for that yet to form,
A place we now think of as the planet earth,
Which passed the tests of the primeval, perfect storm.
Now with this creation comes the beginning of time,
And for measurement a transparent hourglass,
With an exact amount of sand enclosed within,
Which has until this moment been at an impasse.
Not a grain has been able to pass the constriction,
Until the Creator has commanded it to go.
As the primal beauty comes into existence,
Change enacts sand to fall in the chamber below.
With the passage of time within the hourglass
The Lord’s creation enlarges and expands;
It becomes the abode for another creation –
The harvest of the Lord’s desires becomes Man.
To Man the hourglass is a no longer fashionable,
And it may even seem to be ruling his day.
So he looks to the Lord for a savior—
For someone who-win or lose-will want to play.
The solution from the LORD is Woman,
A helpmate fashioned of Man’s own bone.
His dream has become his reward,
And She seems even better than homegrown.
Her figure is the perfect hourglass,
And her countenance is a bonny display.
Plainly It seems Man never saw the lady coming,
Since his plain morning bird became his bird of prey.
Their fiery blossoms swayed against the sky
In breezy weather and Mama and I
played games, describing how
the long, gold-tipped pistils wrote,
on air, sweeping pollen poems.
No eye that saw could help but read.
Their blooms were red against the green,
And in the early morning wet we deemed
We saw the blood of homegrown heroes,
Who died for duty, deftly limned ---
Dreams to occupy two minds
That loved the moves, in wind,
Of red hibiscus past their primes.
Summertime meals are delicious
sandwiches with sliced tomatoes
green beans cooked with new potatoes
Homegrown, healthy and nutritious
garden vegetables and fruits
a mixture of tubers and roots
Meals are often expeditious
hotdogs and burgers on the grill
homemade ice cream an added thrill
Barbecues can be ambitious
preparation of sauce and meat
could be hours until time to eat
Summer desserts are capricious
peach cobblers or watermelons
freshly cut honeydew melons
Cool drinks can be adventitious
house special mama's ice tea sweet
or lemonade to beat the heat
Summertime meals are delicious
Homegrown, healthy and nutritious
Meals are often expeditious
Barbecues can be ambitious
Summer desserts are capricious
Cool drinks can be adventitious
July 13, 2018
New Constanza Contest by Emile Pinet
Fifth Place
Constanza
The Constanza created by Connie Marcum Wong consists of five or more 3-line stanzas. Each line eight syllables. All the first lines of all the stanzas form an independent poem as the rest of the poem expresses a deeper meaning. The first lines are in mono-rhyme while the second and third lines of each stanza rhyme together. Rhyme scheme: a/b/b a/c/c a/d/d a/e/e a/f/f........etc. And the end verse is made up of the first lines of all the previous verses combined.
Hidden Beneath the Rainbow
Guatemalan villages have rainbows of dreams.
Magical thought whereupon each soul gleams.
Locked by a culture engraved on the soul.
Harvests where births’ golden customs unroll.
Living antiquated amid pompous brochures
Sleeping upon mats on plank beds or hut floors.
Boys and girls may not date or co-mingle.
Marriages arranged without knowing lust’s tingle.
In homes of adobe an empire is stayed.
Within those four walls, the future is laid.
Bounded by mountains and winding footpaths
Encroached by the world, walking different paths.
Families stay warm around a hearth of three stones,
Braving the simple life without moans and groans.
Stunning people clad in colorful handmade clothes.
The earth is their friend, their skills, and maestros.
Milling their coffee, chili peppers, and corn.
Homegrown products produced feed these freeborn.
Harvests of sweat and self-satisfaction
Hand worked acres and strength still in fashion.
Hidden near volcanoes; tucked in God's hands.
Generations of peoples have loved on those lands.
Glowing beauty shines beneath heat and straw hats.
Faces aglow, tourists hoping for chats.
Gleaming simplicity knows modernization's foes.
That exploited attraction where vacationers go.
Escaping the fast pace and the greediness flow.
San Pedro la Laguna, hidden beneath the rainbow –
© August 3, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen
REFERENCES: http://www.artemaya.com/artist_life_bp.html
http://www.bootsnall.com/articles/05-12/a-taste-of-tranquility-life-on-the-shores-of-lake-atitlan-san-pedro-la-
laguna-guatemala.html
every year on the day of my birth
you showed what your friendship was worth
making every effort to swerve and avert
being present because something occured
always last minute and out of your hands
a need to meet the demand and abandon
blagging bad like a selfish mad man
then your birthday comes like a coronation
crowned king of the nation with expectation
we should all make a day of the celebration
stop what we're doing to avoid complication
and that sets the tone painting the bigger picture
because if we didn't enter your home you wouldn't feature
selfish in your zone doing nothing for people
just lie and smoke homegrown thinking yourself a leader
more intelligent than the rest whose minds are feeble
helping them through life a self righteous believer
Backwoods and homegrown
Country boy is how I'm known
Cowboy boots and faded jeans
A little rough around the seams
Not a fan of foreign cars
I drink Jack while at the bars
I say yes ma'am and hey y'all
I do some huntin every fall
A 30-30 or 30.06
Thats how we do it in these sticks
Lord I love some good moonshine
Y'all city folks can keep your wine
Your opinion just don't matter
To me, its all just useless chatter
Heaven knows I'm just a country boy
But my life is full of joy
A once healthy old man
all alone in the sand.
I reflect upon my past
The good and the bad.
All that I've had.
Why time went by so fast.
With a cough and a weeze
I rise up to my knees.
Then I roll a cigarette.
A hand through my hair.
A breath of fresh air.
At least they've not killed me yet.
Still one set of prints.
That really stinks.
No wonder I'm so lonely.
So back to my tent
where again I will vent
about losing my one and only.
Another day is done.
Wasn't that fun?
I lie down to read.
I can't find my book
though I look and I look.
So instead I smoke some weed.
A couple of good puffs
of fresh homegrown stuff.
My head vieled in fog.
Although a rarity
I have a moment of clarity
and decide to get a dog.
I now close my eyes
and await the sunrise
where it starts over again.
But such is the quandry
of this stoned, stupid and onery,
hard headed, homeless man.
the exile
far from the homegrown
this mud pile
hidden by the hedgerow
of old time
out West where the sun
sets its sore raw burnt wound
into the ocean
of my blues, night soothes
in moonstruck currents
warm water of the deep
like a baby in its mother's womb
resurfacing in dawn's blushed seize
on my lips a tune
the soul salt salved
and onto the land
where the ocean sets its dying waves
pass the golden sands
the fragrance in the hills and dales
my will to plant
and tonight
I look to the East
long to tie
with the roots that did feed me
my eyes on the moonlight
guiding my steps
my dream in the new Spring, revived
the circle to set
where the sun rises
into eternal rest
© 04.30.16
TV sensation
Prime time news;
Wake up call
~~~~~~~~~
Elegant poise on TV
Charming sweet voice;
Brilliant anchor delivery
~~~~~~~~~
Homegrown talent
Sparkle and shine;
New media sensation
~~~~~~~~~
Stock market trends
Upswing and downswing;
Challenging times
~~~~~~~~~
Politics of freedom
Confrontational constituents;
Angry defiance
~~~~~~~~~
Observe the times
Conflicts permutates;
Right and left and wrong
~~~~~~~~~
Losing streak
Gambling losses;
Cut loss and run
~~~~~~~~~
Affairs of the heart
Uneasy showdown;
Bruised egos clash
~~~~~~~~~
Pun of old wit
Can still sting;
Mad hornets stir
~~~~~~~~~
Kill joy this talk
Something for nothing;
Deceit attends conceit
~~~~~~~~~
Gain or loss
Not much has changed;
Greedy is greedy
~~~~~~~~~
Here we go again
Flirt from old pain;
Embrace new pain
~~~~~~~~~
Sweet baby asleep
Mother's fond embrace;
Peace in the valley
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
20 October 2014
Singapore
One of the joys of summer are lightning bugs.Do you remember, as a child, chasing them on a balmy evening? They are so elusive. When you see one in front of you and go to catch it, it would be gone; only to blink just a foot or so away from you. Carefully we would put some in a jar with holes poked into the lid for air. Then we would watch them light up. Never leave them in the jar very long, or they will die.
Nature’s bounty is showing in the colorful blooming meadows.Grasses and wild flowers are a riot of color; there are Daisies, Yarrow, blue Chicory and black eyed Susans displaying their charms.It seems impossible to remember that the mere beginnings of all this abundance was only a few months ago.
July days are full and long. The water in the creek flows lazily, just like the cottony clouds that glide across the blue sky. Milkweeds, Honeysuckle and Hay scent the air. Hay has such an incomparable scent.It brings back visions of climbing up into the hayloft as a child. Playing in the hay, tunneling through it, finding “Daddy Long legs’” and the kittens that the barn cat hid there.
Blackberries are ripening in the berry patch For a time we did a lot of picking. We enjoyed many delicacies that we could prepare with them. Pies, cobblers, and cakes as well a s jams, juices and wine. Going to the berry patch was a welcome, relaxing activity after work. Most of the time it would be very hot there. Occasionally a snake would be sleeping on a branch nearby, causing me to move on slowly. I would stomp my feet, hoping they would move out of my way. Bugs and mosquitoes would buzz all around us.
Summertime is full of joy.The sounds of crickets and cicadas are the music of summer. There are baby animals., tottering around, growing up, discovering. Flowers gladden our hearts with their beauty. We swim in pools, ponds and creeks to cool off and refresh us. We can pick homegrown fruits and vegetables for our table.
And there is the toddler following a butterfly, calling: “Wait for me butterfly, come back here! You are going too fast!”