Best Land Far Away Poems
Once upon a time
In a land far away
A Baby was born
On a bright winter’s day
He was a happy baby
His laughter quite the treat
He was perfect from his head
To the bottom of his feet
He was born a Prince
So they wanted a regal name
The Queen called on her subjects
“Please come join in our games.”
“The winner will choose
our young Prince’s name.
To be spoken throughout the land
to bring the Prince fame.”
They brought their lances
Their armour and swords
In their search for Glory
and to win big awards
But the greatest prize
to select the Baby’s name
The winner so honoured
would gain great acclaim
They fought upon horses
In matches on the street
All manners of combat
Many foes to defeat
At the end of the week
One winner was proclaimed
The public all cheered him
For the Prince would be named
The winner was a man
Who, had not a name
He’d lived all his life
carrying that shame
So he thought for many hours
What name might be best
He searched all manner of books
So the Prince would be blessed
Alexander or Richard
Maybe Demetrius or Hobbs
Perhaps Matthew or Vincent
Or something simple like Bob
After hours of research
His choice was revealed
Written on a Silver Scroll
The name was unsealed
Queen Harleen was ecstatic
Dressed in a gown of gold
The Baby Prince in her arms
She did affectionately hold
King Matthew took the Prince
Introduced him to the crowd
“His name is Benjamin
Of him we’re all proud.”
Dedicated to our son Matthew, our daughter in-law Harleen and of course the star of the Tall Tale, our new Grandson Benjamin.
Vase Dream - c'est la vie
White vase with no design
Dangling there - c'est la vie
I think somewhere in Center City
Apart from everything
In an apartment rising skyward
Lingering on the edge of ledge
Standing tall atop a railing raw
Languishing over the 20th Floor
Or there about
And more - c'est la vie
The balcony did its’ best of course
Displaying the fragile curves
Morning sun light danced approval
Around bouncing beams above the surface
But nothing could stop a soft breeze from…
Poof!.....And off it went… c'est la vie
An alert French man
Pastry smile and all
Happened along
With left handed nimble fingers caressing a Beaujolais 42
The other hand stretched out with stress
As if to field an errant football pass
And in that chance encounter…Catch!...
Tumbling to concrete boundaries down
Bottle released in a wincing crash
Ground favored his mortal urgency
Pottery saved - c'est la vie
Intact
French man’s head cracked
Let’s say opened
Something like an egg
A natural death ensued - c'est la vie
A passer-by seized the moment
Lifted vase and fled
Made off down and dirty
An ally
Another fate for vase awaits
Less encumbered
In a land far away
To dream of ledges - c'est la vie
If so inclined
Or so designed
Modified on 10/21/14 for - c'est la vie - Poetry Contest
Her glasses perched on her nose, my old friend
the Bookworm proprietor, welcomed me smiling,
and then murmured. quietly.."behave yourself"
knowing I would end up at the poetry shelf.
Words, one word, a billion words..all for
me..all for the taking. Words of love and hate,
of brooks and fields, creatures small and great.
Words of sunshine and laughter ,sadness
and hope…of places and faces.
A coffee stain, a torn page patched with tape..
a loving inscription on a cover page.
Settling in my favorite chair, the tabby cat
at my feet, I loose myself in a land far away,
a land that grew from a poets mind and heart.
Tomorrow will come soon enough, but for this
time, and of all these words, I am a part…
8/24/14
Once in a dream-time in a land far away, MJ woke up and wanted to play.
With magic and mystic and music in mind, she went for a wander to see what she’d find.
While moving and grooving and rhythm she kept, gold fairy dust sprinkled on each careful step but the road was as wavy as water is wet, it wobbled like jelly, all gooey she’d get!
She skipped and she hopped and flew up and down, weaving through sunbeams, drank dew drops she found.
Then stopping for *kai adventure on hold, headed for home before she got cold.
Dusky and dim did the lovely day dwindle, sparkling like rows of Christmas day tinsel.
Moonlight and twinkles above her sweet head, soothing the traveller as she lay in her bed, once in a dream-time in a land far away.
*kai = food
Long long ago in a land far away
Was this slave girl named Gedophamee
Worked as a prostitute to earn some dough
Name was pronounced “Get-offa-me!”
At an athletic festival in Roman times
Male athletes performed in the buff
Preventing arousal while they competed
They imbibed and downed other stuff
At the opening gala ceremonial parade
One lady exclaimed “Oh! Limp Dicks!”
Ever since that momentous occasion
It has morphed into the “Olympics”
© Jack Ellison 2013
I hadn’t seen her in over twenty years,
but I knew her face on sight;
I should have asked her to the senior prom -
instead, we both stayed home that night.
High school friends who never went on a date
because I was too afraid to ask her out;
In retrospect, the signs were there,
but I harbored a young man’s doubt.
Now, with two decades left behind us,
in a foreign land far away,
I stumbled upon my old high school crush
not knowing just what to say.
She was quite surprised to see me -
coincidences had put us there.
She was a successful corporate lawyer;
I was travelling without a care.
We shared pictures of our children;
Told snippets about our life;
Her husband was back in America;
I had just divorced my wife.
The bartender made his last call;
Nostalgic smiles were on our face;
We kissed and hugged goodbye again
as I quickly got out of that place.
I was glad to have gotten to see her,
though it made me feel inept again;
I wondered if we would have made good lovers
or if it were best kept just as friends.
She was in my thoughts as I wandered
around Europe with my back pack;
I promised that I would look her up again
in three months when I got back.
I read about her on the Internet
and cried when I saw the story;
She had died in an auto accident -
leaving behind her girl and boy.
It happened one week after
our chance meeting in that bar;
They said an old high school year book
was found with her in the car.
Her letter was in the pile of mail
waiting for me when I got home;
She wrote she was glad to see me -
on that trip she felt so alone.
She admitted to having a crush on me
back in our high school days;
She kept waiting for me to ask her out
until we went our separate ways.
She thanked me for keeping it casual
in the bar that fateful night;
She probably would have gone back to my room
and she knew that wouldn’t be right.
She asked me to remember her
but not to try to get in touch;
She’d rather me stay a memory
than get to know me a little too much.
I visited her in the graveyard
one day in the early spring,
and left a prom corsage there
as my final offering.
A Fictional Tale
In a land far away, in a time not so far past.
A recession came and the people were poor.
The middle class had lost everything,
The bankers and the rich owned them,
Taking their homes and letting them starve,
Interest, the signature, soul sold, bought.
Marx had come onto the scene and Blavatasky.
Ideas, revolt, change, power to the people.
Crush the bankers and the rich: take their wealth.
Feed the people, empower the ordinary man.
One man came forward, a painter, an artist.
Lead the revolution, a powerful orator.
Hate the rich, hate the evil bankers and business owners.
Free market, competition, trickle down economics, died.
The new key word: Socialism. Steal from the rich to feed the people.
His name was Hitler, loved by the people. Kill the rich.
The rich were the Jews, their religion is designed to accumulate wealth.
No love, no artists, conformity, conservatives, defending their wealth.
Team up with the western capitalists, demonize socialism.
Capitalists start war with socialists. Rationalize, demonize.
The capitalists and the Jews vs the people of Germany.
Germany kills the Jews, just a few, not six million.
Don’t believe the lies of the capitalists.
The final solution, kill the rich, French Revolution.
It will happen again, same story, different time and place.
Modern bankers, Wall street, corporations, raped the people.
The middle class is dying, and our future is already coming.
Pain steals your mind
but know your not alone
simply listen to your heart.
When you feel the cold
go to where the fish swim
and the sun will shine warmly
and brighten your skin.
Empty my mind
and set my worries free.
I go to where the fish swim
and the mountains graze the sky.
There peace I will find.
This life fills my sight.
Clouds roll over my sky
and darken my mind.
Yet when I feel the cold
I go to an ancient land far away
This ancestral home of mine.
The hills they roll with a breeze
of a thousand sheep moving by.
The land filled by castles on,
of ancient wars left behind.
Cities, homes of poets old,
decayed and delayed by
what Invaders stole.
Hundreds of voices fill the air,
chants of monks are here.
This is the ancient land far away
which was once a home of mine.
Empty my mind
and set my worries free.
I go to where the fish swim
and the mountains graze the sky.
There peace I will find.
Pain gives your mind
a reminder your not alone.
A reminder to listen to your heart
if you ever feel cold.
Walk where the fish swim
and the sun will shine warmly
and brighten your skin!
In a land far away is a tree,
In which there lives a small bee,
His continuous buzz,
Is the work that he does,
It seems like a good job to me.
LIFE IS A PLAY – JOURNAL XV
But there is a meadow
I would see in a dream
With wild flowers rife
The most in a dream I’ve ever seen
For the view spreads endlessly
The golden bloom never fades
But stops only at some foothills,
Rolling, receding like ocean jade
The sky – and I under – a so deep light
blue
I’d have me lay right down
Lost in its vast, interstellar view
As seeker I’ll invent me a stream
One that invitingly froths and bubbles
That I may lay down,
Float away all life’s troubles
Oh, maker of plots
I yearn to see a land far away
Where soul only resides
And happiness, peace name of the play
My mind winds through the fabric of time,
like the river carving over its ancient path.
Unconsciously flowing it always seams to travel back.
Do you remember that time so long ago?
Looking around I wonder, does the summer heat remember the snow?
One day everything seamed to melt away,
now a new way begins to grow.
Do you remember those ancient days,
in a distant land far away before a change wind began to blow?
sometimes my mind winds through the fabric of time and the old ways make themselves known.
In a land far away lived a fairy named Bernice
Not a typical name for a fairy, I do belieth
How about that Sir John John
I just wave my magic wand wand
Words magically rhyme without any grief
© Jack Ellison 2015
For my grandson Tyler...with love Grandma
In a little ghost town in a land far away,
Lived little ghost Ty who liked always to play-
Father ghost warned him not to be scary,
While Mama ghost told him to always be wary!
October arrived - the time coming near,
Ty’s favorite holiday, soon would be here-
His friends were practicing to loudly say “Boo,”
He thought to himself, should I say it too?
“Do we have to wait until it’s dark?” Ty asked,
He wasn't sure if his patience would last-
His ghost buddies teased him a number of times,
“Can you, for once in your life, your parents not mind?”
Little ghost Ty thought for a minute and said,
Wel-l-l. they’ll never know if we stay far ahead-
All of his friends practiced frightening each other,
Ignoring the things said by his father and mother!
Excitement abound when night time arrived,
Ty and friends, a plan they contrived-
They told Ty’s sister, “ Keep your parents near,
Don’t let them catch up to us – clear?"
The night was so windy it whistled a tune,
The sky was dark with an elliptical moon-
Ty and his friends raced out of sight,
A little afraid, Ty pulled his sheet tight!
“Don’t be a baby,” said his little ghost friends,
“We’re nearing the school, where the road bends-
Get ready for action, we’ll belt it out loud.
We’ll scare everyone in that Halloween crowd.”
Little Ty shivered as they passed by the school,
Out of the bushes jumped three purple ghouls – BOO!
Ty and his friends were totally surprised,
Tears came rolling right down their eyes.
When father and mother caught up with their group,
They could tell that the little guys had really been spooked-
As they went to each door with their trick or treat phrase,
Ty and his friends, by his parents side stayed!
Upon returning home on Halloween night,
Little ghost Ty knew his parents were right-
Never say something you don’t want said to you -
And listen to your parents, they know what’s best to do!
Spring has sprung, the fields have turned green;
He walks to the sunshine and stands on his dream;
He grew up in fields of brown earth and sweet hay;
But the ones he loved best were the fields made for play.
He thinks of his dad out driving his Deere;
He whispers, “Mom I love you, wish you were here.”
He salutes for his brother in a land far away,
Protecting our freedom, his hero in every way;
The butterfly’s grab him in the pit of his being;
It’s really sublime all these sights he is seeing;
He’s wished for this day from five years old;
He turns where he’s at, as the moment unfolds.
Looking up at the flag, waving in the breeze,
His mind wonders back to the fields of Albert Lea.
Never a happier day in the sun,
Then when the crops were all in and the game it was won.
Like cows to the barn the crowd ambles in.
Slowly the din rises as a crescendo begins.
Calmed by the noise and the business at hand,
He loosens his body, focusing his mind on the plan.
There’s banter and chatter, then a teammate to call,
“Hey! Let’s play catch, you got a ball?”
Soon he is limbered up loose, and ready to go;
A sprint to the steps and into the dugout below;
He paces the floor, awaiting the call;
Then the voice on the P.A. welcomes them all.
Leading off the left fielder Harding Clay! Leftfielder Clay echo’s away;
Harding, what a name, though it sounded just great to him today.
He removes his cap and faces the flag;
The anthem rings out in tones bright and glad;
It happens each time and he’s not sure why;
He can’t make it through without tears in his eye.
The awesomeness of it all envelopes his soul;
He silences the noise, regaining control;
The great race to become the champions of Fall;
Begins with the two sweetest words he’ll recall;
Play Ball!
August 13, 2019
With my eyes butterflies, that have fluttered and schemed
they have colored the night with the best of all dreams
I traveled again, to that time long ago
The dream of all dreams, one to cherish and hold
Though the volume was muted, it resounded with love
in voices so fragile, like a song of a dove
While the nightingale sang, I was under the sun
in a land far away where a childhood began
Things were more perfect, than ever they've been
With stars in my eyes, keeping light in the dim
I see us, at first, in black, white and gray
When the fog lifts, there are colors that can't fade away
Dusk purples the hillsides, where the red sun will fall
Drapes over our yard, where my brother is called
To come in for supper, for dinner grows cold
While Dad washes the dust off his face and his hands
Mom takes off an apron, and a dinner is grand
I hear mother humming, as the evening grows long
Then a dishtowel is drying, and the mending is done
Crickets are chirping and lights are turned low
My dad tends the fire, of pine scented logs
There is smoke in the breeze, and a whippoorwill's song
that drifts in moonlight, and sails by the face of the moon
There are echoes I hear, of a house in the dark
Sounds so familiar, so near, yet so far
A cat nestled close, at the foot of my bed
I am wrapped in the rapture, in a place I have known
from a time long ago, that would someday be gone
But for now, I will cherish this dream that I own
Last night in the mist that has taken me home
When the nightingale sings, I'll be under the moon
in a place far away where my childhood began~
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Submitted for Childhood Dream Contest: Sponsored By Silent One