One leaf fell from a tall, tall tree
and subtly kissed gnarled roots beneath;
a lover’s kiss below sunned-sheath
of greenest leaves, a jubilee.
One spiraling leaf brought playful mirth
to sullen earth of trodden dirt.
A flight of hopeful shades of spring,
for hard, hard ground, an offering
One leaf dressed in a sparkling jade
glided with grace to green grass blades
and rested near a bubbling brook,
then waited for warm breeze that shook
its flirty skirt on green, green glade.
An arc of bright green canopy
warmed my heart in bluest mood,
and one leaf blew a kiss from you.
It twirled and pranced and floated by,
then with a touch it came to lie
green in my hand, a dear surprise.
Like emerald hills of Irish tales,
I marveled at how one leaf sailed
green In my hand that blue, blue day,
a kiss from you on Patty’s Day -
The gray clouds parted shining green,
a beauty like I’d never seen.
for Francine's Show Me the Green Contest, 3/18/15
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
Written: March 5, 2012
Updated: March 11, 2012
Listen to nurse's report including the news
that Joe and Wilma like each other.
Check all rooms and find that Roger is out of his bed
and down on the floor again.
(Hip not broken yet.)
Answer Wanda's light to calm her justified paranoia
because she knows that she is somewhere other
than her home but just can't figure out where that is.
Answer Jeremy's light to help him sip his water
while he giggles at his favorite T.V. show.
Accept his thanks and feel your heart break again to see a
45 year old man who can no longer control his limbs be so
appreciative of such a small act of kindness...big act of kindness.
Check on Jack even though he doesn't turn on his light
because you hear suspicious noises coming from his room.
Help Jack to bed after you find him swatting an
imaginary fly with an imaginary fly swatter.
Try to re-position Emma so that she is comfortable
even though her limbs are fetal-position frozen.
Kindly lie to yourself about her comfort so that you can
control your guilt when leaving the room.
Go into Jackie's room when she starts her usual screaming
that "she doesn't want to be here, and her family hates her
and that's why she's here."
Kindly lie to her and control your shame because you know that
what she is saying probably is true.
Answer ex-model Mabel's light and listen to her story about
how she could have married Groucho Marx, but that she married
her true-love instead.
Feel a sense of sad pride when Anna proudly explains to you
how she keeps track of her day by tracking her activities as she
would have for patients when she was a nurse.
Keep taking care of and giving these people (not patients)
love every chance that you get.
Gail's notes: Portrait of Joe and Wanda is the sequel to this. To protect the privacy of those who have lived before us, the names have been fictionalized, and the events semi-fictionalized.
Copyright © Gail DeBole | Year Posted 2012
Radiant hymn's of morning sun
of Godly words O' how I run
to and fro
I traipse in search
in love I rest
still my spirit yearns
I will sing of the Lord's great love
I hear the call upon the hill
in shallow breath my heart lie still
O' trial O' fear
I march ahead
I call my king
on Zion's perch
I will sing of the Lord's great love
To proclaim everlasting the prize
onward and bestowed to rise
O' anointed one
I march ahead
in love I rest
each day of toil
I will sing of the Lord's great love
I will sing
O' how I bear in my heart
in completion just to be a part
with sinful flesh
my spirit cries
I call my King
to shun desire
I will sing of the Lord's great truth
I shall sing forever
Contest-Larry Cohen's Masterpiece 'HALLELUJAH.'
Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2013
but Oh what a chill
The wind inhales and exhales
the trees bend on the hill
Winnie the Poohs Blustery Day
just cannot compete
In like a lion and out like a lamb
I am so tired of paying for heat
I long for crocuses, tulips and green
it seems like ages since they have been seen
Copyright © Willow Lawrence | Year Posted 2015
The 'Undred an' Fifth is the greatest o' Britain,
They charge like the Royal Marines;
They'll shatter the shock, and they'll 'old like a rock,
On nothin' but pork leg an' beans.
They march by the mile, an' they step 'er in style;
At 'ome by the land 'r the sea.
They'll fight like a lion, an' die for the tryin',
For nothin' save crackers an' tea.
Aye! the 'Undred an' Fifth is the best in the land;
They 'ave trampled the gates o' Chardaux.
Brave for the fight, they 'll sail to the sand,
An' they'll march till they meet wi' the foe!
The 'Undred an' Fifth, yes the best o' the best;
They 'ud conquer the ends o' the world.
Not taking a rest, they are game for the test,
Till the Jack o' the Brits is unfurled.
The 'Undred an' Fifth is the greatest forever;
They'll cross any line in the sand.
When others 'ave failed, an' the reg'lars 'ave bailed,
Then the Fifth o' the 'Undreds 'll stand!
They stand in a rank, an' they march in a file,
They 'ark to an ol' rusty sot:
They serve for the Queen, as they camp o'er the mile;
They're the greatest that Britain 'as got!
~ Inspired by Kipling's "Soldier an' Sailor Too".
~ See About Poem for more.
Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2013
Sweet, bitter March,
last year tears haven’t dried out up
till now and yet you
are already at the door,
Sadness is still flapping over my head like
a frantic goose, what have you brought with you
to silence its primordial honking?!
I can see your hunched silhouette against the wall
Of my waiting, standing awash with shame,
wringing your empty hands desperately!
O' March , anniversary of tears and smiles,
Memories are pacing around nostalgically, sniffing
the withered roses, leafing through the pages of books
trying to put the haphazard leftovers of a once
beautiful image into shape…
The hurricane that accompanied you once
has subdued, leaving behind a nerve-tearing silence and
a deracinated life!
Don’t wonder; rootless hopes are still roving
over the corpse of a long dead dream, taking
strength from the ever pulsating stars…
March, March , embracer of birth and death,
the breath of eternity has abandoned
your rosy-cheeked child..
The resonance of its happy giggles are
haunting the vacant hours of night, sending me
reeling of longing!
Its face emerges from among the clouds of years, an angelic
Vision imprinted on the face of a mourning moon!
Copyright © shams alsaidi | Year Posted 2012
Another day chased away by cold breese
And the fast wind into the dark caves flees
Silence, a master of the place that screams
And the void, a hole that swallows the beams
Into gloomy shades, the birds take refuge
As, the sky a black dome awfully huge
What is left, is the empty streets, without
And within, a poet rotten by doubt
Inside my chest, a throbbing heart, in fear
The season might mean that the end is near
As the trees, their leaves with rustle they fall
Highlighted by the scared few birds that call
As if Spring this year were just meant to leave
Before term, and before my words, i'd give
Copyright © Lonely Shepherd | Year Posted 2016
Replenished with rain, it rushes on,
Its brown water pours and spills
Like vinegar from the pickle bottle,
Tumbling over, bubbling through
The jagged jumble of rocks,
Those early plants pushed aside to let it pass,
Its running melody ringing clear,
Competing with the robin’s call,
The stream pushes on, its cheerful song
Belies the chill beneath,
As it strives to outrun Winter,
While the fragile sun sighs
‘Too soon, too soon’.
Copyright © Deborah Alexander | Year Posted 2017
Last league of March, after spring had reached its peak,
I opened my doors to abeer.
And shrieked in delight when I caught her.
The saffron on the curves of her hips is mine.
The azure on the rise of her breasts.
The dark, raunchy purple on her lips.
The vermilion on her forehead is not,
And when dusk fell, it drew her away from me.
Date: 29 / 10 / 2016
This poem was written in celebration of 'Holi', the festival of colour. The idea was to draw a parallel with the tale of Radha-Krishna, which itself is a story of an affair.
Copyright © Tamal Kundu | Year Posted 2016
There is another March Madness
and it also happens every year,
there are shouts, cheers, and a tear...
I wonder if you can make a guess?
The fans - they dress in all sorts of wild gear,
and there are office bets placed all around;
the brackets are made and are NCAA bound
and no Madness is the same from year to year.
Can you guess what this thing I rhyme is all about,
or are you like some who really don't care?
But watch and you'll see some amazing air
for basketball fans - March Madness carries real clout.
Now I know this isn't about the blues,
but I wasn't in the mood to make you sad,
so I wrote this piece, I hope you're glad...
the March Madness cure - Basketball shoes!
Copyright © George Aul | Year Posted 2011
Entry for the contest: World or War: Viet Nam
Author: Elaine Cecelia Geroge, of Canada
Inspired by: the Picture of the soldier’s
carrying their wounded comrade through
the Viet Nam Jungle. In this poem, it is
the soldeir on the left.
I dream of heaven here on earth,
where I walk in meadows green,
in the Blue Ridge Mountains, of Virginia
beside a mountain stream;
where rainbow coloured - wild flowers,
swaye upon a breeze;
and leafy emeralds blossom,
on the limbs of lofty trees.
There in those hills where I was born
‘Heather’ waits for me;
my love, my wife, I see her now
in every breath I breathe.
And I dare not cast my eyes
upon this grim reality;
here in Viet Nam,
where thorns and bards on gnarled trees,
hold me in this hell- hole,
in an endless muddy stream,
filled with blood, and sweat, and tears,
and victories broken dream.
And I dare not free my hands,
to wipe away these tears I cry,
I can not! I must not! for if I do,
my brother dies!
So with every single beat,
of this patriotic heart,
staring in the face of death, I march -
I march through Hell,
And dream of Heaven here on Earth
Written: April 17, 2011
Awarded: 4th place
Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2011
Copyright © Thomas Martin | Year Posted 2015
The candles are aglow on your birthday cake,
Where a wish awaits for only you to make,
A cascade of confetti thrown by many a friend,
Balloons and flowers, gifts and parties without end,
A year filled with new smiles and never a tear,
And with many heartfelt words of good cheer,
Like those I have written right here on the page,
A Happy Birthday to you, no matter what your age!
I wrote this for Linda's (Poet Destroyer's) birthday,
but I thought it was appropriate to repost this,
since today is my birthday!
It is always nice to share this special day with friends.
And, I consider all of you to be mine! :)
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014
Thursday, March the 5th of the year 2015
Another hockey battle comes along the way
It's a hockey night across the bay
And for the fans, it's a night of pride and respect
Thursday night with the blue and white
Trying to play for their season pride
Thursday night with the black and blue
Trying to play for their playoffs ride
When the dance on the ice begins to ring
Their voices of strong support will begin to sing
With an atmosphere of a pep rally from high school
The cheers of a true fan - a hockey team's supporting tool
Toronto Maple Leafs - the underdog team
Coming away from the bay to fight for respect
Tampa Bay Lightning - the elite team
Coming from the bay to keep their respect
From the cheers of "GO LEAFS GO" away from home
To the cheers of "LET'S GO LIGHTNING" close to home
Hockey Night in Tampa Bay - a worthy game to expect
And their season matchup will be known as "The Hockey Battle of Respect"
Copyright © Nileisha Giselle Deliz Diana | Year Posted 2015
The days of March are dark and drear.
In April rain clouds still appear.
By May the weatherman we cheer,
And June is here, and June is here.
July brings forth the perfect rose.
In August we take off our clothes.
September we must don our hose,
And summer goes, and summer goes.
October the cool breezes blow.
November brings a hint of snow.
December time is all aglow,
Bright gifts with bow, bright gifts with bow.
In January a deep freeze.
Small February is a tease.
Bold March once more will try to please.
Time to plant peas, time to plant peas.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2013
Ratta tat tat, as he taps on his drum
The war isn’t over, it’s just begun
He’ll play that drum until the moon shines bright
He’ll play that drum till the stars come out at night
With bullets flying over head
He looks around and sees the dead
Explosions and smoke lace the air
But still he runs, and plays his drum
He wants to cry but shows no fear
Fear is something forbidden here
To prove his self among the men
Is what he dreams of again and again
With tears streaming down his cheeks
He charges faster, anger at its peak
He grabs a dead soldier’s gun and fires
To kill an enemy is his only desire
But angry like a ravaging dogs bark
Suddenly, everything goes dark
As he falls to the ground and looks over at the others,
The Little drummer boy thinks only of. . .
. . .His mother. . .
*I'm a huge history nerd and one night in high school, this poem came to mind.
Copyright © R.C. Lewis | Year Posted 2014
rucksacks in place,
marching, calling cadence:
"Sound off, one two. Sound off, three four."
Copyright © Kim Merryman | Year Posted 2015
Butterflies fluttering -*- fluttering butterflies
Wonderous colors -*- colors wonderous
Breeze along with they float -*- float they with along breeze
They are beautiful creatures -*- creatures beautiful are they
Copyright © Cynthia Jones
Copyright © Cynthia Jones | Year Posted 2015
Kong winter resolve his power struggle to live a little longer
Cold soil protects wild modest tiny flowers
March deserve tribute by an dignified pen
A soothing voice whisper in dew wet morning sun
When Spring youthful glory revitalises
With blessed glow in brilliant charm
A soft mother breast for all to be born again
Nature pregnancies seeds of life
Spring unveiled with a colorful smile
We go brighter times ahead, wakes up from beauty sleep
Princess Spring I feel lucky and almighty
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2016
If there ever was a time in the history of human,
It is now that one’s being is bound to civic duty impost.
He or she is a loyal citizen of his or her nation.
Intensified is the fortress bond of armory and strength.
Through our faith and courage, our minds and our heart have engaged vigor.
Dynamism is diversification via structure.
What is seen is statement beyond repose via strategy.
As we discuss the militant way, we centralize our thoughts
To suffrage in other nations against dogmatic methods.
Systemically approached the right to vote interposed by
Illegality of the election booth intervened by
Bribes and other means to destroy equability.
What is seen is statement beyond repose via strategy.
Impartiality is an assured plus of unanimous.
Political leaders aboard focus on a suppressed nation
Through their views on enslavement and incapacitate.
For sure, this is the Stalin’s views of the Ukraine orders retain.
To incarcerate through tenets of rapaciousness is cruel.
Therefore, what is seen is only a system of beliefs.
The Ukrainians must remain free to be at liberty.
Verlena S. Walker
Penned on October 02, 2014!
Form: Decapentasyllabic Verse
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014
I was born on March fourth, 1983.
But, I believe I was born, to march forth.
What I mean is, I was born to never give up.
To never quit.
To keep trying.
To walk my own path.
To keep going, no matter how dark my days get.
To continue on, no matter how bleak my outlook is.
To keep my head up, even when others look down on me.
I am tough, I am strong, I am a survivor.
I always was, and I always will be.
I will never stop reaching for my dream.
I will never stop going forward,
even when my shoes have worn out.
Even when my socks have torn to shreds,
even when my feet are broken and bleeding.
Because, I was born on March fourth.
To march forth.
Written by: Kelly Deschler
Giorgio V.'s contest - "Impress Me With A Small Poem" - motif: epic
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013
The sun shines so bright in a cerulean sky,
As Christmas spirit comes in great surprise;
People now in all walks of life,
Happily enjoy the moment once in a lifetime.
Go shopping here, go shopping there,
They all buy things needed to cheer;
Everyone joins the spectacular parade,
With big floats and motorcades.
It is still July but Christmas is magic,
It comes on time when we least expect it;
Day and night, people are rejoicing,
Helping one another in all undertakings.
Still skeptical on what is really happening,
But colorful lanterns and ornaments are now seen,
Christmas lights even sparks in shimmering splendor,
Hang in houses, on window sills and doors.
In open houses have some special gifts,
For anyone who would wish to drop by for a pick;
Some are simple wrapped items,
And some are sweets or delicacies on plates.
Everyone keeps busy but doesn’t go frantic,
Christmas in July is a real fantastic;
A special event which now lingers in the memory,
Because it is our Town’s First City Anniversary!
Note: Our town turned to a city.
Date: Aug. 8. 2012
7th Place Winner
Contest: My Favorite Poem Contest
Contest Judged: 9/7/12 12:00:00 AM
Poet Sponsor: Joyce Johnson
Note: This was my entry in the contest with a theme, Christmas In July Magic. I’m dedicating this poem to my town Candon City, although the anniversary is not really in July. I just kept the theme of the contest. Moreover, my dearest mother and favorite aunt who are both celebrating their b-days on this month had inspired me to write. The real Town City Hood and Foundation anniversary: The anniversary of Candon City Hood is every March 28. Candon became a city in March 28, 2001 thru Republic Act 9018. Candon City hood was authored by then Congresswoman Grace Singson during the 11th congress. Foundation Day is March 25. -more info were from Mr. Jun Balbin.
Copyright © Galeo DS | Year Posted 2012
You held me for a moment
For just a moment it would seem
It seems like forever ago
Although I could never remember
Remember those warm-filled months
Between March and November
November was the end
The end and a new beginning
Beginning of a new season
A season such as Spring
As Spring would bring new life into the world
A world with unreasonable sin
A sin as lifeless as Autumn
(Autumn to some called Fall)
Fall, when he would fall
A fallen angel,
An angel gained
Or gaining a loss?
The loss of a day,
The loss of a life
A life that would end as the day turns to night
The night always dark
The dark calls for closed eyes
Eyes that await the promise of a sunrise
And so the sun would rise
But some still remain asleep
A deep sleep they will not wake
Wake me up from this dream
Dreams of an untold story
A story was cut short
Shortness of a heartbeat
A heart with no beat
Better count your blessings
Blessed life-long lessons
Not to lessen the longing
But I still belong to him
He smiles upon me all day all night
The night, I am used to days without light
A light grip, a solid hold
Hold me so that I don't fear no end
End this yearning, hold me for a moment again
Copyright © Shakeela Kingzley | Year Posted 2013
Melting snows begin to fade
As a newborn season arrives,
Refreshing our lives grown dull.
Cradled in green budding leaves,
Hushed by the winds of spring.
Written on August 10th, 2015
My birthday is March 4th, 1983
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015
I remember the days they were born
Both in March, cold and rainy yet we were warm
Me a new dad and my love a new mom
Not knowing what to expect, trying to be calm
Jarret was the first, it was March 25th
Time seemed to linger, our long wait was no myth
But when he decided to take his first look
We both cried at our miracle, as if from a book
It’s the simple things, oh… the simple things
The next time we were old hands, but still a little scared
Wondering how it would turn out, our strength shared
The doctor and nurse seem to show no worry
When that heart monitor slowed down in a hurry
But then Anna came so quick on that March 29th
Our surprised little doc, still had her sweater on tight
It’s the simple things, oh… yeah, the simple things
The years go by fast, as everyone says
Somehow you don’t pay attention until, there it is
The first time he and I walked to our fishing hole
My buddy and me, him carrying his little pole
Jabbering away about the big one he’d catch
Me hanging on his every word, knowing this moment would be hard to match
It’s the little things, man I mean the little things
She was a cute little bug, always holding a kitty, puppy or such
She with her happy heart, I love her so much
The first to make friends with whomever she met,
Her big brown doe eyes are hard to forget
The next thing I knew he’s taller than me
With a voice as deep as the old man in the sea
His single word answers to questions left me craving more
It’s tough on a loving dad, but I know the score
She sings, oh.. how she sings wherever she goes
Our happy heart may someday star in the show
Later I pick her up and hear how the game went
Just listening to her joy, me ever so content
It’s the little things, those simple little things
I’m sitting in the car, waiting for school to abstain
‘Cause I don’t want him to have to walk home in the rain
He jumps in, looks at me and says, thanks pop
You know I love you, and that’s non-stop
It’s life’s little things…just these little things
It’s life’s little things…just enjoy the little things..
Copyright © Shawn Sackman | Year Posted 2010