Best Maggie Poems
She isn't beautiful as Nefertiti was.
And unlike Helen,
her face will never launch a thousand ships.
My Maggie's beauty is more open, than entrancing
more welcoming, than enthralling,
more giving, than demanding,
more durable, than perfect.
Perfection inspires no passion,
no lust.
Nefertiti over Maggie?
Maggie, with her woman's body?
Maggie, with flesh where woman should have flesh?
Maggie, with fullness where love and longing
would suffer nothing else?
Yet she strews a careless beauty all about her,
the tender beauty in her gaze
that holds and softens and moulds
a better man within me
than the one that she first knew,
and the bold, brave beauty of her crooked smile,
her smile that tells me who she is,
and who she does not care to be.
Her smile may never softly kill a single soul
but it warms me, softly warms me
as I hold her spent and gentle body close to mine
it warms me to dream dreams beyond my worth
and aspire beyond my dreams.
~Water Skiing,Tribute to Maggie~
Ah, indeed a summer teenage delight!
My Cousin Maggie assured me, would
make a water skier of me.
Ah, my young heart lost all frightening
premontions and took a soaring flight.
I sat on the pier, she threw me the
dauntful handle and rope.
Fear seized me, realizing the moment
to ski was indeed, here!
Her husband, Jim, was captain of
the speed boat and cheered!
It was time for me to move my
trembling, young rear!
I stood up and was on my way,
Woo-hoo and hip-hip-hooray!
At last, I was like everyone else.
Ecstatic with the water and the
speedboat as it propelled!
Alas, glory and triumph divine,
were not to be mine.
For I fell forward on my face!
And with silly pride, still held
onto the rope.
Dragged through Lake Como,
Me ~"Dope on a Rope!"
My Cousin Maggie, yelling loudly:
"Let Go! Let Go!"
I must have been in stupefaction!
Like a languid teenage halibut, I
let go of that rope.
But nonetheless,bobbing up and
down in great, jubilant summer
most memorable, satisfaction!
August 26, 2019
1:30pm PST
"Dear man with eyes of finest wheat, I'm hungry and I have nothing to eat "
Said the beggar to the florist who had an armload of floral work to do
She showed up every Valentines Day to pick up her free bouquet
her sweet smile and soft voice charmed him in a special way
"You are relentless Maggie, " he would say with a twinkle in his eye
as he handed her a dozen roses with a jovial grin...
She would stand at the curb and sell them one by one as they walked by;
One February day it was as cold as the Dickens, and no one showed up
Scrunching a blanket in a corner she hugged her twelve roses and fell asleep
"Wake up pretty Maggie" came the voice of a rose who had seen better days
but she slept slept and slept, no Prince Charming to sweep her away
the next year arrived no smile at the window no roses for Mag.
In all of his life he had never encountered a more beautiful rose such as she,
what he didn't know was before she died, she imagined his eyes
and entered the heavens, for free.
Written by: Vienna Bombardieri
Come meet two of my former patients;
A nursing home room they did share
Maggie was blind; Porter became her eyes
Finding, picking up, helping her
He was kind. Her mind had slipped - or had it?
"Porter, I lost my comb," said to mate
Frail as he was, under the bed he went
Crawling for Maggie - deliberate
Day in and day out he would meet her needs;
She contrived to keep him near her hand,
Porter this and Porter that - it did seem
Though they each understood the commands
The nurses would come to help as needed.
Then, on that moring when a stillness
Penetrated the room reverently
Quietly sitting slumped by her bed
No answer; no movement; just sitting there;
Porter dressed for his daily tasks,
He had fallen asleep when breathing ceased
He had given all that was asked
"Porter, Porter, help me," was softly heard
"Porter, Porter, please answer me,
Porter, Porter, where are you?" asked again.
"Porter's gone. He loved you, Maggie."
The lady Maggie we remember
Carl met her in December
Small and round ... but classy
Sexy ... sometimes sassy
Old granny her mind's in a blender
08.03.2018
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
A miniature Australian Shepherd
Is the best companion for me
As we sit together on the couch
Watching afternoon TV
She does not sit for long
This hyper ball of fur
When Mom walks in the door
She jumps all over her
The attack of the Aussie Shepherd
Is a daily event around here
Yapping, jumping and bouncing
She moves like a white tail deer
Her big brown eyes
And fluffy chocolate fur
Make me want to hug and kiss her
That is for sure!
Chewing on my textbooks
Chasing the family cat
What do you do
With a dog like that?
A drink and a treat
Will calm her down soon
We throw a biscuit in the kennel
Watching her star in her own cartoon
A blanket placed over the top
Will find its way in by morning
But we will have peace for now
As soon as she starts snoring
Good night my little friend
Sleep well and pleasant dreams
Tomorrow we will play again
When the sun through the window gleams
I can remember the woman wrapped in a black shawl against the wind
Her face wrinkled with age and sorrow
Her bag of cockles held firm – a supper for the family coldly waiting
Hard poverty her story and her plight
We called her ‘Maggie Shawlie’ and thought her strange
She was just part of the story of our town
We did not greet her nor she us – her dignity
Her stance kept her strong – as she gazed at our shop-bought socks
And healthy faces - our assumption of a life she could never have.
She lived in a tiny cottage off just the main street – a hovel
If the truth be known. Her husband died ten years after they were married.
Maggie was left to cope all on her own – grief and sadness
Overtook her - but she was stalwart – all joy gone –
She was determined to survive
Today I whispered my fears to you --
Wrapped my arms around your hard body
Scales tickling the underside of my arms
You've been keeping my secrets
since I was ten
You were barely as big as I
now behemoth
You can almost touch the sky
Reach right up and greet the sun for me
I bury treasures at your feet --
Dig down deep into the earth
Careful not to tap a single root
You've been the protector of my bounty
for your entire life
What knowledge you bear, all for a little girl
In gratitude, as proof of Your love
You present to me
One perfect white blossom
I remember the day you were born
I exclaimed Oh God not another one
As you grew older it was plain to see
The lovely woman you’d turn out to be
Maggie my dear, we shared a room through the years
I combed your hair, wiped away your tears
Tried to keep you happy, and calm your fears
My dreams for you were always many
Hoping you’d marry a man with plenty a penny
And here you are all settled and grown,
With a family you can call your own
A beautiful woman so deep so sincere
With so much love for her family it is quite clear
So my dear sweet sister, I proclaim with no fear
That I will love you forever year after year.
Oh, Maggie-Jo Sparks, my basset hound
The best of the houndom breed
A friendlier pooch cannot be found
You are a grand ol' gal indeed!
Oh, oh Maggie-Jo you should be crowned
Queen of the Canine Race
With every terrier and spaniel around
Bow wowing your noble grace!
4/22/22
Honorable Mention
The Nursery Rhyme 3 Contest by Eve Roper
I don't know how it happened.
I'll never understand.
When I got married and changed my name
I was in wonderland!
My maiden name was ''Gasiewicz''.
Say that one ten times fast!
So when I became ''Nagy''
I thought...some peace at last!
It seems an easy name...
I'm simply ''Mary Nagy''.
But somehow through the years...
they've turned me into ''Maggie''.
I have to laugh about it.
It happens all the time.
I guess it is just natural
when two names seem to rhyme.
I get it in my daily life...
''Hello, How are you Maggie? ''
I just chuckle to myself
and say ''I'm Mary Nagy''.
I didn't think I'd get that
mistake here on the net.
But, yep, It's happening again...
''Hi, I'm Maggie. Have we met? ''
Maggie Skosana
cut down in your youth
for the simplest reason
telling the truth
'twas the hand of your brethren
that cast the first stone
your supporters have fled
leaving you on your own
No one came to shield you
No Police siren rang
No help for the victim
of a stone throwing gang
Your pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears
No black hand outstretched
No holding back tears
in the crowd that surrounds you
as you writhe in the dust
You're a victim of society's lust
for freedom and gain
Look only to God now
for relief from the pain.
Did they drag you outside
your face in the dust
Did you scream, did you struggle
Did you cry "What is Just?
Where are my protectors,
why did they not come?
Your death knell was tolled
on a paraffin drum
Your legs do not function
you struggle to rise
They kick you and beat you
You look in their eyes
Many black hands outstretched now
but to kill and to burn
The stones pelt down faster
you have no way to turn
They called you Informer, a Traitor, a Liar
Matches held in black hands
light your funeral pyre
Your executors dance
hands raised high in the air
No one came to help you
No one did care
That you had a black skin
That you thought you were right
No help for you Maggie
From black or from white
The fire chars your body
your end has now come
to the thumping of hands
on a paraffin drum
We weep for you Maggie
that your death was in vain
That you died in the dust
That you suffered such pain
In the great Halls of Justice
those who committed this crime
Your Judge, Jury, Executioners
meet their maker in time
Their end surely must come
when it does it will be
to a slow...slow...beat on a paraffin drum.
Maggie Skosana was a young African woman who was burnt to death for unknown reasons during rioting in South Africa many years ago. I wrote the poem so that she would be remembered as an innocent victim of man's cruelty.
Margaret is a precious jewel
That comes from far and wide
She shines with such a brilliance
She cannot hope to hide.
People try to copy her
But no one gets it right
Because nothing can come close
To the iridescent sight
For Margaret is like no other
With colours set a whirl
Her name is Greek and Persian
A precious jewel, a pearl.
A Tea Party....she drug me into this nonsense
...I'd follow her to the end of the earth
Slight pang of jealousy surfaces discovering we're not alone
A tattered bear and a ragdoll with a flopping button eye
rounded out the guest list...stealing our privacy!
I've never hated anyone more than now...
Her accent was faux-brit...At the time I didn't get it
Maggie set the table...a tree stump, purposely graceful
Chin raised up and out...all a part of the production
All the while I watched fascinated
My hands pressed firmly between my knees
Setting a pink plastic plate with cake
She giggled playfully...
... knowing this was a tortured day for me
I'd devour mountains of invisible cake,
sip tiny cups of tea that wasn't there
To smell those flowers in her hair
Maggie left me sitting to conversate with "Bear" and "Bonnie"
...dreading the horror of a pop-in by Tommy and Johnny
I could only imagine them rolling in the grass...
Pointing at the scene, roaring with laughter
running after to make a neighborhood broadcast!!
As I pictured the horrific scene, Maggie crept behind me
soft hands cupped over my eyes "Surprise"!!
As I turned to speak...she puckered sweet and layed it on me!!
Taken aback...I'd no idea how to react
Face flushed, I blushed and ran away
Later that day...She appeared at the edge of my lawn
We went to the creek and looked for turtles...
Inspired by John Heck's "My First Kiss" contest
Now,Maggie ran a boarding
house,or so the story goes;
And all those that knew her,
called her Maggie Rose;
Some say she was a widow,
others a woman who;
Gave away her favors to,
whom ever caught her
roving eye;
But the truth of the matter,
a secret life she led;
And if the house,where
cattlemen and drummers;
Slept in cozy comfy beds,
could speak of;
Secret passage ways,
and doors that kept;
This secret of a woman,
who loved with all
her heart;
But none would ever
know,it died along
with Maggie Rose.