Best Homey Poems
When I think of the bygone Christmas
images that come to my mind are
candy canes, cookies and popcorn strands
adorning the Christmas tree.
The popcorn strands are easier to make
and still, I think,it's a family project.
I know, decorating with cookies difficult
but feel their homey feel with cookie cutters
which can be napkin rings for the table
Hear the sleigh bells ring
creating the quintessential Christmas melody
hang a strap of sleigh bells on your front door
warm sounds, a great greetings for the guests.
but the best sound is children’s laughter
and the squeals of glee, as the presents opened.
Think of the toys that simple things
you might have played with a child
like a jack-in-box or spinning circus top.
Spices, bayberry and baked things
are all scents that evoke the holidays.
Choose the Christmas décor that appeals
not only to eyes but to the nose and ears,
drape fir branches tied with a red bow above the door.
+++
November 29, 2014
Form: Free Verse
First Place win
Nomen global style, Nomen style
1. I’m in this school because I’m learning real English.
I’m walking down the hallway and I’m speaking only English.
Here comes my homey, and he‘s telling me some stuff in English.
Yes, we rock! We know English
It’s a party here! We love our school activities on Mondays.
Party here! We get to have some rest from work on Sundays.
Party here! We listen, speak, and study grammar here.
Party here, it’s a party here!
Getting funky because we’re spunky, looking cool. We are looking cool.
See us splashing. We’re looking smashing in the pool that is next to school.
With my English speaking friends right after school.
Nomen style. Yep yep yep yep yep Nomen Global style.
Nomen style. Yep yep yep yep yep Nomen Global style.
Chorus: Hey, speak in English. Yep yep yep yep yep Nomen Global style.
I want good English. Yep yep yep yep yep Nomen Global style.
2. Here comes a text because I feel my phone’s vibration.
I hope it’s not my mom or King Abdullah’s administration.
I want to check my Facebook or find some games to play,
but I choose to put my phone away.
It’s our final test. We now have to take our final test.
Final test, and teacher tells us to do our best.
It’s our final test. Teacher tells us we cannot cheat!
But if I fail, I can repeat!
And on Friday we’ll go to Subway or some show, Ethan should know.
To the mountains or to some concert we will go. . In ProVO.
If I constantly use English, I will grow ow ow ow.
Nomen style. Yep yep yep yep yep Nomen Global style.
Nomen style. Yep yep yep yep yep Nomen Global style.
Hey, no cheating! Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. Nomen Global style.
Hey, speak in English. Yep, yep, yep, yep, yep, Nomen Global style.
3. Everyone is having so much fun.
Baby baby come to school. Don’t be so dumb.
Everyone is having so much fun.
Baby baby come to school. Don’t be so dumb.
Hey, speaking English, yep, yep, yep, yep, yep, Nomen Global style.
Hey, speaking English, yep, yep, yep, yep, yep, Nomen Global style.
Disheveled hair, wiry and gray
an old lady hovered past my house each day.
I ignored her when she passed by
wondering what possessed her as I sighed
then in my own focused diligence
I slinked fast away, uncaring in my ignorance.
Wasn't sure where she lived but wondered
why in the world she seemed so encumbered.
Then one day when a little cold set in
I stepped outside my homey bin
and there lay bird wings on my mat
and slipped away some stray gray tabby cat.
Then as I queried in my beleaguered mind
that old lady waved, not surprised as to what I was to find.
There along the shade of the door's edge
just below the fully defined hedge
lay the gathering of leaves and papers torn
five kittens hiding unseen and newly born.
The old lady grinned, scooped them up and smiled
their mine she said as if they were her own child.
I go to work to make more money,
to buy more stuff to make home homey,
the only problem now I find,
is theres no room to plant my behind,
So I went out and bought a bigger home,
so all my stuff could have their own zone,
whereas now I work a lot more and am rarely home,
to pay for all my stuff and the pricey mortgage loan.
2-5-17
As a perfect scar, is the morning star,
illumed as Hemera asleep and dreamy
upon the breasts of Nyx, cold and homey,
staring, so stoic in gaze, perfect scar.
Of settings and fanta-scenes of my soul
she reminds. Of wild eyes cremating forms
and preserving mummies amid ash storms
she reminds. Of words bleeding from my bowl...
Of a plum, all of her engrained for ay
she reminds. Of hopeless fetish within
sowing on my seed bed any season
She reminds... of Oyin coming so nigh.
As blush fades away, green leaves come alive;
the bluish glow with doves, refills my rive.
Saturated in the mist found by the pond,
of this scenery I used to be so fond-
The lake is covered in chartreuse moss,
and I am surrounded by the pain of loss.
Is it too much to ask to be happy once more?
I thought that life was supposed to be great,
if only I had the satisfaction I had before,
but now LONELINESS DOWN BY THE LAKE is my fate.
I boil a kettle of cocoa on the stove’s fire,
longing for life to bring me back my desire-
This cottage I own used to be homey and warm,
now only memories of lost love seem to swarm.
Is it possible to find a heartfelt love again?
Someone to hold hands with along the shoreline,
now solitude seems to be my only friend...
if only mother nature could bring back what’s mine.
I have been stuck on earth with condemnation,
lost in the severity of complete isolation-
My innocence is longing to be one with me,
my mind thirsts for my blind eyes to see.
Is love that has desolated bound to return?
I only know that I am suited for pain-
For the breaking of love’s bread, I do yearn,
but now LONELINESS DOWN BY THE LAKE does remain.
Kettle, Pond Lake Poetry Contest
Nayda Ivette Negron
February 9, 2018
Aloha, Connie Marcum Wong
A fellow islander, here in the State of Hawaii
Plain common folks in touch with its aina (land)
Noticed by many soupers long before this tadpole swam the pond
Well-grounded, skilled with a pen, with a memorable persona,
In my view, I became a welcomed homey, charmingly receptive, in a comfortable regular confab of subject subtleties to filling, reflections of a lifetime,
From our friends to our families to our Hawaii ~~
...of a gorgeous floral lei, imagined or realized
...both pales in comparison
...Aloha always
...my blessings,
...Connie
2019 September 20
*2nd Place*
Pick a Friend on Soup
~~Bobby May
Pour love everywhere
Veer fairy lilies gently
Thrilling spring’s beauty
Plant white carnation
Daisies are chanting “Holy”
Freeing harmony
Pour love everywhere
Palm branches cuddle lily
Wine is spring’s honey
Plant dwarf gladiolus
A rosy crown is homey
Fairy’s sketch pretty.
By: Nadia Shahwan. This poem "Pour Love" won an honorable mention in June
2009, then became the winner in January 2010.
*written for Verlena's Contest "EBONICS, Let's Do Some Slang"
SHAWTY,
Yir' boy fin' ta' told ya' bout some lessons in what the Man call Ebonics.
Cus' I gots' this!
Like the young fellow named Carmello on the New York Knicks,
and girrrrrl I got mo' slang in my verse than the words of them nerds
down at Hooked On Phon-ics
I TRIED TA' TOLD YA"LL...
I keeps my flows tight,
Fam ,
cus word is bond like James
and I ain't talkin' Rick James, RIIIGHT!
Ya' see, round cheer,
between Normandy and Western,
what we call this is a little "Twennie Twin Twin"
but round the way,
where you stay,
they just may call this a "Sinny Sin Sin!"
Yo, hold up baby girl...
Lemme ax you suh-um...
Who you be with?
cus Shawty, how you look,
is off the hook,
and Boo-Boo you is suh-um I can see me with with!
Yo Yo Yo! Wait! Hold up girrrl! Where you goin'?
'Sup honey child,
You know my favorite basketball player used to be Yao Ming!
Ya-Mean?
Get it Yao Ming?
Yaa-Mean!?!-----(crickets chirp-ing fir' certain)
Lady Queen, come on back to me!
Yo, my jokes may be stupid, but they clean,
B'sides, I coulda' been' said something idiotic like Idi Amin,
Yaa-Mean?
And the homey don't even play no basketball, ya dig?
Yes YESHall! ...
Better put that ON SOMETHIN'!
And you KNOW THIS!----(awww heck naw, Shawty dipped...)
THE HOUSE THAT GOD BUILT 2/22/03
My soul resides in the house that God built,
it was placed there with no shame, no worries, no guilt.
As long as I live there, I’ll be on easy street,
Any and everything I need and want for will be handed to me on a silver platter.
My God holds has all of the clout.
It’s furnished with Agape love, and it’s homey presence is filled abundantly with a
Heavenly sense of God The Father & His Jesus His Son.
The omnipotent one whose sacrifice is greater a gift than I’ll ever know,
And His grace and mercy is everlasting, yet His beauty is constant to bestow.
While in the house that God built, I’ll stay focus wholeheartedly towards Thee,
And if I fall short or fall by the wayside my Father will set my soul free.
No bricks, no stone, no wood nor clay, I just repent and trust Him and he leads the way.
This house will never falter nor fall, as long as on Jesus
The original builders name I call.
I followed you around when we were young
I worshiped you; your praises I sung
You were so much older and wiser and right
You were my north star in my blackest night
I broke your clowns when I was three
I cried on your shoulder when I skinned my knee
You were always there when I needed a friend
You were the unwavering force that would not bend
We sang in the kitchen, you and me
Classic oldies, and ballads and Fiddle de Dee
Summertime in soprano and bass
Our own special concert in a warm homey place
I grew to my teens and you threatened the boys
Not letting them treat me like one of their toys
Then off to war you went and I cried and I prayed
That God would return you to us as we waited afraid
Home you came; we wed the loves of our life’s
Through happiness, birth and the day to day strife’s
We shared every one; burdens and bliss
Even the death of our parents, we made it through this
You moved across country but we still stayed in touch
Birthdays, holidays, grandchildren and such
But you called me tonight to give me the news
That my best friend and my brother was singing the blues
The prognosis wasn’t good; I cannot accept
I cussed, and I paced and then I just wept
Now I'm praying again that He'll answer my plea
To help you, to cure you, to keep you with me.
thirteen year old boy
south central
stagnating pond
in a ten mile universe
he had dreams
aspirations
knew there was more
education, it propels
he would teacher
(aim lower doug)
a social worker
something
anything but
the gang
seventh grade came too soon
'blood, you are not better
we are the same
i say you sell
you sell
you feel me?'
he felt a lot
fear
electrified anxiety
his heart pounding in his chest
plummeting at terminal velocity
just before impact
and the feeling he might pee
fear motivates
so he sold
corner of Imperial
LA cap over deer eyes
hoodie masking baby lips
rosy cheeks
wishing he were anywhere
but here
he grew small ball
and got things down
head low
deepen voice
small $10 big $25
no fear
any trouble
run!
a year dragged
his big day arrived
life changer
f#@k
he didn't want a tat
screw that!
nevertheless
he was getting it
on his neck
that was the worst part
branded for life
for all to see
f#@k
he contemplated running
but where?
they would find him
cowards don't survive the hood
in a ten mile universe
with no Benjamin's
he wasn't going anywhere
life on lock down
inked up homey
with a scrapbook body
flicks the switch
buzz
buzz
blue ink
dip
he wants to touch his neck
one last time...
'move your hand, fool'
no time for goodbyes
ten minutes later
NSL
running from hairline
down his neck
and that's that
another one bit the dust
demolished dreams
innocence lost
future?
what future?
maybe he could teach in the pen'
Leaving my home in the city
Gray lonely,and faceless
When the sun did shine
We'd run to the corner of 166
By Moes candy store
And jump into our neighborhood pond
The local fire hydrant
We would Frolic as girls Jumped rope
and looked on with twinkles in their eyes
Sparsely green it was and downright cold
At times this was my home
When told I'd be leaving I cried
Asking mom why
I was sent away far away
My new world my new home
Milbank where I died
And where I was reborn
The metaphor apparent
The sun always shined at Milbank
A real home with a Pointy roof
A white picket fence
Corralling daffodils
There were ducks and frogs
Of all kinds
and lurking poison ivy and sumac
Snakes and bats and more grass
But there was no hydrant
With empty cans of reingold
Beer abound
Only a brook,a lake,and two pools
There was grass galore and trees
And blue skies
As far as the eye can see
This was my new home
A place where I belonged
Even the name Milbank sounded
Homey pleasant and everlasting
When I finally left Milbank
We all sang in a lull
My friends cried I cried
Then I died
Never to be reborn
As before.....
They are like night and day
Always there,
Even when not seen, I know they’ll be here
Treat me like a brother, oh how much they care
How many are they?
Who do stick around when we try and fail?
To help us through the day
Looking beyond the veil
And not shun us, to betray or turn their back in the face of dismay
What can I say? God bless and a million thanks!
I feel like I owe them a hundred favors
But they say that they owe me a hundred favors instead
Often when the rainy days come
To them I run as I would to nine one, one.
When I have nothing but problems and empty pockets
Unlike some, they don’t cough up
Nor act like there are crocodiles in their pockets
Again I say thanks, but even more kind is the reply I get
“It’s nothing but a mere drop in the bucket”
For real, my heart gets filled with joy
Coz honestly it was more than just a mere drop
My great homey told me
Real friends don’t count favors
But even if I tried I’d fail, I couldn’t keep count
Which doesn’t mean I forgot
Though they did for me and forgot about it
Expecting no rewards, no refunds
Simply expressing brotherly love
A reason valid enough for me to value our friendship beyond any price
So we roll together, don’t be surprised
We get along like we’re from the same tribe,
Sharing the same blood, creatures of the same God
With or without, we don’t judge
Like a tennis ball against the wall;
In two ways we let the love bounce
I know one who stood for me to take a punch
Exceedingly grateful for every bit of love
Because little is much and much is just little multiplied
Never feel like you haven’t done enough
Because to me every little bit counts
A CHRISTMAS POEM
Scattered floors with scarlet wraps,
A sturdy, firm, Christmas tree.
The smell of pinecones fill the air
As I search for you and me.
I’m looking for you because
I believe in destiny and fate.
That I met you for a reason,
But the reason, it shall wait.
Through our sporadic discussions
And strange remarks,
And our insightful silences
And unique embarks,
I have discovered that you,
You are cognizant of almost everything.
And that to find you, all that must simply be done
Is to find an aura constantly varying.
And the reason why I search for me
Is the same as why I search for you.
Like how I’m still uncovering your character,
Because I’m doing it for me too.
Even though it’s not Thanksgiving,
I think Christmas is the perfect time
To say a simple thanks and let you know,
You have an incredible mind.
They say miracles happen when
A man rides in the sky,
But I think they happen every day,
Even though they pass us by.
It’s just that we don’t recognize
What kindness is until we see
what people do and say
and the people they could be.
Christmas isn’t special because
We get gifts or because someone was born.
It’s the laughter and feelings
Shared and unworn.
I’m searching for you because
I need to say these things,
Like how you’re atrociously amazing,
and tell you about the gifts you bring.
We’re always far out but we always come back
To a small and homey place.
I hear music, smell fresh made cookies,
See wreaths and hanging laces.
There are scattered floors with scarlet wraps
A sturdy, firm Christmas tree.
The smell of pinecone fills the air,
As I search for you and me.