Best Parcels Poems
I will be the stars
The moon will be my mum
The sun will be my dad
The rain will be my brother
The wind will be my sister
The rainbows will be my friends
The rocks will be my cousins
The fountains will be my happy tears
The waterfalls will be a nickname
Of an edifice I carved for you
Among the rocks and
That I have chosen just for you
The fields will be my attires
The paper and the ink
will be my parcels for you
I tell my mum to rule the nights
Take away sorrows of darkness from you
Caress away your insomnia
And clothe you With her cares
That her night gleams your attires
And I will be the stars
I tell my dad to shine on you,
sunbeam your countenance,
away your damp with his warmth,
and smile always at your hustle
And I will tell my brother to feed you
With the heavenly springs
Flow on your droughts
Feed your greens
I will tell my sister to cool you
With her tender breeze
See that you are bathed
With her oxygen
I tell the rainbows
Of how you wrote me
Many poems of love
And how we smile together
As co stars
And I will tell The Fields
To weave you coat of many colours
red, green, yellow, blue,
violet, orange and indigo coloured
The rainbows will lend a helping hand
I will be the Stars
I will tell the Fields to plant
In your garden multiple colours of roses
They will add a sunflower also
I will tell them to fit in berries,
red, blue, multiple berries
And I will be the stars
Up above among heavenly
Bodies, I will shine as the firmament
Daniel chapter twelve holding three
And brighten your tomorrow
Shining your prayers to God Almighty Alone
First PLACE WIN
STRAND NO 800 ,any theme,any form FINALE
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my thankful heart goes to you
6/16/2020
My last post before Christmas. May I wish a Happy and Holy Christmas to all, and a healthy New Year. ~~ Victor
*****
Someone saw me dance
in the town's square
covered with white snow
around the decorated pine.
The lights blinked brightly,
pseudo parcels hang here and there,
music murmured muted carols
as midnight slowly neared.
On top of the pine, a star
was shining strong and silvery,
all around the branches green
tinsel sparkled joyously.
Beneath the tree, a manger stood
reminding me of days gone by,
when a poor couple arrived
at a small but crowded town.
There was no place for them.
The child was born in poverty,
in the town named after bread.
Is there a place for Him now?
Someone saw me, but went on
alone towards his dreams.
I danced unaided around the tree.
What's up with Santa
Chimneys not swept Santa isn't happy
He is sick of the soot making him snappy
Families have lost the one thing that gives a room soul
A roaring fire of wood or coal
Toasting your toes as well as the bread
Held in front of the coals which are glowing red
Back to Santa who is beginning to stumble
No longer mince pies, sometimes fruit crumble
The tot of whisky has become a shot and Fanta
The reindeers are fed up, with a drunk Santa.
Talking of striking which isn't pleasant
A Xmas morn without any presents
All because Santa can't say no to the offings
Quaffing the goodies that are left out for him
So come you Mam's and Dad this is the test
Chimneys clean a mince pie and tot is best
Children will wake up to a happy morn
Celebrate the day a baby boy was born.
Reindeers will be happy too, that's nice
So will the elves and the live in mice
Happy Xmas Santa, once more you have survived
Delivered the parcels and kept tradition alive
Left me a sackful that's kind of lumpy
Opened to find a red eyed Santa that's grumpy
So night night Santa time for a snooze
Remember next year to keep off the booze
Penned 22 November 2014
John Weaver 2000 (Emily has cerebral palsy)
Her room is not the sort of room you’d quite expect to find
For a little girl whose love of life is clear
No toys or games or bats or balls, or fun things of that kind
No bicycle or skateboard will appear
But the little piece of crumpled silver paper
It's very cheerful and bright with pictures everywhere
A pump to feed her through the night and a big adapted chair
Though pretty dolls sit on the shelf and teddies on her bed
She cannot play with them herself so she holds them tight instead
And the little piece of crumpled silver paper
It was Christmas day some years ago with excitement in the air
When we opened her presents and then found
That she couldn’t play with them and it didn’t seem quite fair
That she would always be so cruelly bound
To a life without the toys that all children adore
And then we heard a new sound that meant so much more
A crackle from the little piece of crumpled silver paper
The expensive gifts didn’t matter to this special little girl
Her joy came from quite another caper
As the parcels and the packaging slowly started to unfurl
All she wanted was the silver wrapping paper
You see, she could grasp it tight to make a funny noise instead
And so it fast became a dear friend
And she holds it close beside her even when she goes to bed
And the lesson to be learned is, in the end…
Happiness is not always found in gifts so big and costly
And often simple things can bring the joy you need
Contentment is a state of mind and the choice is yours mostly
To be content with what you’ve got and with every little deed
Or, to always be in want and never satisfied
And so for me the real belief will never taper
That the truth of life is clear and very closely tied
To the little piece of crumpled silver paper.
creepy eyes sparkle
from scary pumpkin faces
halloween is here!
******
At Halloween it’s my birthday
Lots of ghouls come round to play
(They are really children from my street)
Their creepy costumes look really neat
I helped mummy mix and make
A scary spider birthday cake
Our table groans with lots of party food
and creepy decorations set a scary mood
We have so many tasty treats to eat
huge sandwiches cut like monster’s feet,
tubs of popcorn ‘brains’ and boiled egg eyes
and green slime pie and vampire thighs
We made massive jugs of red lemonade
Using colouring for that blood red shade
When the party’s over we will head to the street
And knock on doors to trick and treat
******
Fabulous fun and fancy food with friends and family
Pretty parcels and presents precariously piled
Cornucopia of cookies, candy, chocolate and cards
Trick and treating takes time
Bulging bags bursting with bright bonbons
Cornucopia contest
Sponsored by Kim Rodrigues
11-06-17
The sun glitters on the seas smooth surface viewed high from a hilltop
Light blue and pink wrinkles shimmer irredescently on the ocean's skin.
Cinnamon sugar sand lapped and soaked by effervescent lemonade froth
Purple fairy floss sponges entwine with different size orange cone shells
With outgoing waves Bubbles stream from the crab holes like champagne
A symphony of ocean sounds rumbling thunderlike echoing hissing foam
crashing waves to the splishing , splashing, fizzing sounds of dissipating
froth incoming and outgoing the translucent blue sea like a fresh soda.
On the pier the tangerine sunset reflects on the deep green glassy water...
Sea breezes blowing a cooling wind Bristling breeze Murmmering ocean
The cliffy hillsides carve a steep stairway to yet another hidden beach..
Like jewels dotted on the sand , these beautiful sea-rocks and shells
sit, it seems untouched , lay softly embedded in the damp sand.
This beach also yeilds thick, green seaweed and fossilised sponges .
Every beach has its own special seaweed , unique shells and rock shapes.
From the roadway the dusk descends a cat on the beachside curb
As the light fades two more cats quietly emerge from the shadows..
Quickly slinking out from the hollows, nooks and crannies more cats appear..
In the space of a few minutes the beach road is teeming with felines
Out of the darkness a car approaches to join this mysterious meeting.
A woman steps out of the car with parcels and the cats crowd around her..
On high-back benches
weary shoppers clutch their parcels
and slump.
Wrapped in a yellow green haze
Van Buren station sleeps
beneath Chicago's vibrant streets.
Outside, on wood-plank platform
we drink-in the coffee warmth
of October's fleeting sun.
"South Chicago, 23rd, 47th, 53rd, 57th"
Like some unraveling mass of I-beam steel
the tracks begin to rumble and shake.
The slant nosed Metra comes and goes.
Across the tracks in autumn plume
Grant Park displays her rows of golden elms.
A nor’ east wind dances bow upon bow,
with a gentle sway that shears away
a sifting rain of harvest leaves.
"Park Forest South, 23rd, 47th, 53rd, 57th"
On the slant nosed Metra
I hurry home.
Ocean view ... yawning azure
wakes and smiles, the lemon drop sun
daubing sprites on wave tops -
Where they dance and twirl like
polished diamonds, spilling from heaven's parcels ...
every wee, brief explosion of light,
Is a bloom of shimmering enthusiasm ...
every precious spark is spent in an instant,
but like the tummy giggles of a child,
They are strung together in harmony -
perfect pearls to adorn the bosom of the sea,
(as laughter adorns the day) ...
Melodious notes of nature's exuberant refrain,
here-and-gone in one sighing, serene moment ...
but their affectations on my soul -
The bright, bursting wonder and delight
that each one ignites within me, is lasting and true ...
oh, what bounty mine, this occasion!
Even now, amid the darkness of doubt -
world spinning in chaos and questions ...
joy's mercy still pierces the shadowy veil!
What grace, that it is my meager gaze
they choose to reach - my weary, chill
and jaded heart, the one they chance to set ...
Afire!
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Write A Poem About Enthusiasm" Poetry Contest, Caren Krutsinger, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Serenity In Scenes Of Mother Nature" Poetry Contest, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Strand Pick 6 Any Theme Any Form" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
t's dawn again ushering light to mother earth,
Like pregnancy to the young one, its a new birth,
But the sky, so clear
that I gaze into it with deep fear,
so I ask will it rain again,
to drown away my pouring tears and piercing pain.
Long, dark and rolling was her beautiful hair,
Her twinkling eyes, an amazing pair,
Soft Lips, Like rippen summer strawberries,
Her memories steeping into me like winter-cherries
Those days and nights of endless pleasure
But Dreaming of you is no leisure
It's the Holy book that lessons to forgive and forget
But losing you, I will forever regret,
Reaching out to you, only for parcels of air to fill my hand,
Only then, I reckon you have left your mother-land
To kiss you I still try, only for the lips to brush the wind,
Hard to realise, only your thoughts will never leave my mind.
It's dawn again ushering light to mother earth,
Like pregnancy to the young one, its a new birth,
But the sky, so clear
that I gaze into it with deep fear,
so I ask will it rain again,
to drown away my pouring tears and piercing pain.
You see no parcels 'neath my Christmas tree,
no shiny paper, bows on ribbons bright,
take not this sight to mean that there won't be
presents bestowed upon this Christmas night.
For God has left me gifts you cannot see,
compassion, mercy, kindness, friendship true,
a generous heart, support and sympathy
and guidance in whatever I may do.
What love is this that covers my bare floor,
is my unworthiness rewarded thus?
These gifts are all I need, and nothing more
freely available to all of us.
Each year, each day they come, and without end,
these gifts from God delivered by my friends.
Over the years
some were carefully carried
tied up in tiny bundles
held tight against the heart
While the other
more awkward ones
were pulled behind in a cart
like so many precious parcels
taken along for the ride
But a few fell
and rolled astray
off by the wayside
along the way
Some were missed
right away
with heartaches and tears
While others were
eventually missed
after some years
And some not noticed at all
I see people now and then
rummaging around
by the wayside
for what they've lost-
Some with long, sharp sticks
poking, prodding absentmindedly
collecting debris
Some on hands and knees
with brush and trowel
excavating so carefully... but-
Most of the time
the wayside is no place
for happy reunions
Often what was lost
if it was, indeed, of value at all
will not still be there
after some years
but snatched up and carried away
with care, by another who
saw its worth
Or degraded past
the point of repair
until what was lost
can never be recaptured
or replaced
Or sometimes what was 'lost'
simply wasn't worth keeping
in the first place
but purposefully discarded
cast off like old garments
too uncomfortable to wear
Relationships too heavy to bear
tainted by disrespect
dishonesty, neglect
subtle streams of unkindness
ever-so-slightly visible envy
marking their faces
like red flags
But the idea of
something having been lost
is powerful, and nags
at our hearts 'til we forget-
these things and their cost
yes, we forget-
Most of the time
the wayside is no place
for happy reunions
Written: October 28, 2025
I press my palm against your shoulder,
dust-streaked and aged
You unfold before me.
Heat rises from the folds
between the tendon and the tender dough.
I savor a bite of the dough.
reminiscent of the stars I once folded,
now scattered,
akin to lost receipts
in a tempest.
I arrive with my stained skin, as a flyer
marred by hurried typos,
hastily printed
by a restless intern.
Here, I consume you wholly.
A vendor presents grief in palm-sized parcels,
with you wrapped in sensational headlines
That twists the truth.
I swallow every piece of you,
even the mustard staining the captions.
But then the rain begins—my likeness of you blurs,
my ink a wing in flight as a winged creature.
A man in uniform smiles and brushes
the sugar from my scalp
casting it into the tide, a final farewell.
Technology taking over
Faster than we know
Smart phones and pretty gadgets
All these androids on the go
Shops are closing faster
Faster than we think
More jobs gone tomorrow
It’s an online shopping dream
Online shopping dream
Amazon, Ebay and Wal-Mart
Just to name a few
Online shopping for everyone
Is the future scaring you
You’ve got so many passwords
You can’t remember them
You’d rather stop but you need to shop
It’s an online shopping trend
Online shopping trend
Sitting here waiting patiently
For the parcel to come
We’ve got the date just can’t wait
But that parcel having fun
Has it been left outside my door
Because I never heard a ring
It’s likely disappeared again
That parcels’ a mystery
I miss that window shopping
The try before you buy
I used to shop until I’d drop
But you can kiss it all goodbye
So link your card to your account
Then you can do it too
Start your shopping online now
There’s not much else to do
Big name shops are closing down
They seem to follow suit
Joining in the online crowd
It’s an online shopping move
Online shopping move
Sitting here waiting patiently
For the parcel to come
We’ve got the date just can’t wait
But that parcel having fun
Has it been left outside my door
Because I never heard a ring
It’s likely disappeared again
That parcels’ a mystery
© Copyright KC.Leake
15th December 2016
All Rights Reserved
Yes we don’t give a toss,
If your package is lost,
That’s logistics,
If it’s broken or bent,
Or has multiple dents,
That’s logistics,
If it’s fragile and breaks,
It was not our mistake,
That’s logistics,
Well you were not at home,
So we sent it to Rome,
That’s logistics!
So incredibly late,
That it’s gone out of date,
That’s logistics,
We don’t know where it went,
Are you sure it was sent?
That’s logistics,
Your parcels we’ll stash,
But we’ll still take your cash,
That’s logistics,
What an item on time?!
Oh no wait, it’s not mine,
That’s logistics!
Oh Mr. Postman,
Where have you gone?
Oh Mr. Postman,
Wake up its dawn.
You vanished without a trace, you didn't even leave a trail.
Should I send a message in a bottle or just an "E-Mail"!!!?
Oh Mr. Postman,
What happened to you?
Oh Mr. Postman,
You are all but over & that's the truth.
Life for you must now be hard, with no postcards or parcels to collect.
What have they done with you, are you caught in a web they call "The Internet"!!!?
Oh Mr. Postman,
Are you still alive?
Oh Mr. Postman,
There's no mail and it's half past five.
I have my doubt if you will ever come back again, to deliver my telegrams and letter.
I want see you just once again, or someday will we meet on "Face-book" or "Twitter"!!!?
Oh Mr. Postman,
Have we lost you to technology?
Oh Mr. Postman,
Please accept my apology.
I am waiting to hear what you have to say, now that gone are the stamps, paper, pen
and ink.
This is no dream, a harsh reality, What was, What is, What will be. Just think!!!!
Oh Mr. Postman,
Why did the technocrats bring about change ?
Oh Mr. Postman,
This cyber revolution has got me deranged.
I would draw my screen and look out of the window, just waiting to hear your bicycle ring
Now I look into a screen with windows, trying to figure out this "Inbox" thing!!!
Oh Mr. Postman,
Welcome to the new era!!!
Oh Mr. Postman,
I hope it treats you well
In your uniform on days hot, cold or warm, you have served people both high and low
What will you do now, do you have a plan? I will never know, Will I never know?