Best Proudest Poems
He scooped and he packed
He rolled me good and round,
When all was done, I stood there
Only three feet off the ground
I had wondered why...
Why did this teenage boy,
Build me up this way
No bigger than a toy?
No bigger than his dog
In fact, we saw eye to eye,
I looked around for answers
And still I wondered why?
Then I came face to face
With an answer that was clear,
When the boy in the wheelchair
Slowly came rolling near
With his teenage brother
Lending him a helping hand,
He placed a smile upon my face
A smile so wide and grand
My eyes, two big buttons
From Grandma's sewing kit,
My scarf, one of their Dad's
Was striped and hand knit
From their Mom's kitchen came
My nose, a long gnarled carrot,
My arms, two maple limbs
From the family's tree I did inherit
My heart, warmed by the boy
The boy who could not walk,
His eyes laughed when he saw me
Though he could not even talk
No prouder stood a snowman
That towered, oh so tall,
Than me, the littlest snowman
The proudest one of all.
I remember the first roses I received.
I was going on my first official date,
and my beau brought me a beautiful
bouquet of red roses. At the time I was
so embarrassed when I had to bring them
into the house and put them in a vase
with all my siblings grinning at me.
Our relationship lasted a little longer then
the roses, but eventually they both died.
I remember the roses I picked out for
my wedding day. I insisted they be yellow
because that happened to be my
favourite colour of roses at the time.
After the wedding I put them in the freezer
where they lived in a frozen state for many
years among the steaks and rouladen.
Although I treasured them dearly I eventually
had to throw them out and they died.
I remember the single red rose my seven
month old son, with the help of his father
brought me on my very first Mothers Day.
It was one of the proudest days of my
life actually holding the title of all
titles, Mother. I had held that dream
in my heart since I was a young girl.
Time past before my son said the word Mother,
And long before he did, that rose had also died.
In the years to come I received many roses.
Red roses, yellow ones, white roses, blue,
orange roses, pink roses, rainbow roses too.
For Mothers day, wedding day, birthdays,
holidays, date days, Sundays and just for fun days.
Roses were always there from the day of marriage
until they filled my husbands grave.
Now all those roses, every single one, all gifts
of love, have died. Every last one.
The most amazing thing occurred over all
those years, although the roses died
memories of each and every one of them
live on till this day. I still see them in their
original beauty, smell their sweet scents.
If it wasn’t for those roses, would I still
remember those special days?
My eyes have taken the pictures of each rose
and filed them in my heart, where roses never die.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
12.17.2014
Contest: Roses, Roses, Roses
2nd
When I walk, my chest nearly touches the floor
With tail wagging madly I know I can score.
The judges look at my teeth and nails
I give that steely look that never fails.
My coat is brushed to a high sheen
I am the proudest dog you have ever seen.
Bred to scent, chase and flush out
Rabbits and badgers, with my long snout.
I might be small but a tough customer
Lion hearted to defend my master.
,
So don’t look at size look at content
Judges chose me to win the old codgers contest
With rosette on my collar, nearly as big as my head
I walk around the show arena, thinking, where’s my bed.
Gone are the days when out in the fields I would run
Now I would rather lie in the garden and soak up the sun
To myself to I, to God I asked
what nature of sample shall I give,
the tribute must be something, already possessed
and not a thing to be acquired or easily accessed,
what type of treasure, what placid pleasure,
what measure of scintillating success should be expressed,
many feelings, dealings, winnings and blessings I have
like the menificent merchant of an ageless & melancholy market,
however I am disinterested in the buying & selling of impressive items,
something of my core should be present, priceless, respirative,
multitudes give Deity thick thanks in pompous prayers
or grim graveling of worship,
others offer animal immolation or coin from shallow pocket,
as does everyone I experience the panic of pain,
that terrible teacher of no remorse whose curriculum
makes carion of cowards,
but as a student of Life and thus a pupil of pain
I realised that my mind can be a calm cistern,
my heart a coffer of adversity's copious rewards,
the determination is made,
my proudest possession, enlightenment derived from pain,
enchanting and admonishing like the howls of hungry beasts,
a gift of character, a jewel of dreams manifest,
God accepted and said,
" Someone, somewhere, somehow is suffering to better feats" -
J.A.B.
It would cloud the sun forever
in one instant the sea would dry
shift the axis of the earth
as a weak crystal
all of this would happen!
resulting in death
cover me with its funereal crepe
but you could never shut me
from the flame of your love...
Last night I dreamed
we were standing in cold grey weather
under the proudest stars
no escape from the ocean breeze
we looked beyond
as the pale moon put on a white cloth...
~ ~ ~ ~
Life without her
would never be the same
She was the loudest, proudest
most endearingly brash
sugar-sweet and pickle-sour
five-foot-two, force to be reckoned with
that anyone in Yell county had ever met
I confess
I was somewhat obsessed
with Miss Mavis' hair as a child
perhaps it was the fact
that she was the only white woman
I'd ever seen sporting an
honest-to-Oh-My-Goodness Afro
And her hair hadn't always
looked like that
I'd seen photographic proof
pictures from the 60's that showed
her having a mile-high beehive
lacquered with layers of AquaNet
utterly unmovable
much like Miss Mavis herself
Never married, Miss Mavis' house
was unapologetically pink
in varying shades
Pink carpet, wall-to-wall
pink wallpaper, curtains, bedspread
even the ceiling above your head
pink on the tiles of the bath
pink toilet?! pink sink
pink details down to the
homemade tissue-box cozies
Looking for all the world
like the inside of an old lady 'collector's edition'
Barbie house, with rainbow-colored clashes
of crocheted kitsch thrown about everywhere
piles of clothes draped over chairs
comfy but cluttered, it had a crazy air
of outrageous audaciousness
She was more comfortable
being herself
than anyone I'd ever known
so natural
as if to say
who else would I be?
It never occurred to her
to even try
to become someone else's ideal
She was that real
When you feel your pockets empty
and your stomach treats you cruel,
someone will read beyond your eyes
and see the proudest fool.
I met him somewhere in the past,
when he was passing through,
I can’t forget the act of faith,
and what someone chose to do.
Maybe someday the wheel will turn,
he'll be where I now be.
I'll be picking out a proud man’s face,
who once was fair to me.
=Dawn Raids
A sudden crash awakens the night
The stomping of thundering boots only to serve to heighten fears
Little spot lights are darting across the room
Half naked man bewildered and angry
His castle has been violated by a wall of blue invaders
His is pinned to his bed with a truncheon at his throat
The hysterical women is pleading for mercy
Unaware of their crimes
A singular figure upright and self-righteous
In a authoritative voice demands for their passport
“Are you married to this woman?”
“Are you a permanent resident?”
These are the questions being asked by other invaders
If this sounds eerily familiar, you would be wrong
New Zealand in the 60s, one of her proudest moments
Once dubbed the land of milk and honey of the pacific
Inviting her brown cousin to part-take in her fortune
Then she ridiculed and scorned her guest
Labelled over-stayers by her gracious guest
With the blessing of the populace white
My fellow countrymen do not wish to be reminded of such events
In this land of milk and honey covered in sheep dip
It is good to remember in case we forget and repeat.
Lest we Forget=
WE ARE MADE IN THE IMAGE AND LIKENESS OF GOD
Beautiful eyes, that hardly lie,Wonderful lips and curvy hips.Hair that drapes over your neck,And a face that glows just for the sake,You are indeed a wonder of God’s creation.But again what can i say,We are all made in the image n likeness of God.
I glance and see life,
Life in its simplicity of forms,
You smile and I see beauty,
Beauty in the mystery of creation,
You walk, and I see royalty,
Royalty complete with nobility,’
Tell me,
Are you an Egyptian goddess?
Or a queen in the game of chess,
Coz to me,
You are God’s proudest piece of art,
But again what do I know,
I know,only that which i ought to know.
Is all this true?
Is all this really you?
I look at myself for an answer,
Answers that can help me kill this doubtful cancer,
Then suddenly I see her in me,
And me in her,
Wait!
Is this even possible?
I ask myself,
But then, I remember ha-ha! Oooh!
We are all made in the likeness and image of God
I’m as proud as proud as can be
My son’s gained his first class degree
He’s a rising star
And sure to go far ...
He didn’t get his brains from me!
He won awards for 'exceptional student of the year on his course, best individual project in his faculty (he is a world record holder for the work on his project) and he shared another award with 4 other students for the top 5 students on their course.
1st July 2016
I held you in my arms for the very first time,
Elated my son was perfect, he was simply sublime.
New life that I had pushed into the world,
Precious baby, oh how my emotions whirled.
With light blonde hair and eyes of blue
I fell in love the very second I saw you
Home from hospital, oh how our lives changed
Took its toll on us - our sleep pattern rearranged!
It is quite challenging getting used to being a new mum
I wouldn’t have changed a moment with my precious son
Everyday you flourished I was amazed how quickly you grew
Crawling, walking ,talking there was always something new
I was very lucky and didn’t get the baby blues
You were so adorable, didn’t have the terrible twos
You adored reading books and sitting next to me
Friends would come to visit and you’d play happily
You slept with your teddy he was called ‘Blue’
We had a duplicate teddy...but you never knew!
How quickly the years passed, oh how time flies
It’s over twenty years since I sang you lullabies
From toddler to teenager you were our pride and joy
I am truly blessed to have such an amazing boy
At school you thrived and passed your qualifications
Then worked in computers, traveling to far off locations
Now you are away from home studying for your degree
When you graduate the proudest mum in the world will be me!
You fill our lives with laughter and joy,
I love you so much my wonderful boy.
Contest: My Lovely Child
Sponsor: LuLoo
02~09~16
Grandma’s brown knuckles crinkled
As she gently peeled the heirloom
Potatoes, discarding the brown-
Skinned strips into the garbage
Bin. She was at home here, alive
And aloud, tastes and scents mingling
In the air like wispy fairies in Neverland, mingling
With the mauve, sun-kissed raisins lying crinkled
On slices of butter-brown toast. She is alive
Here, sheltered by the pots and pans, heirlooms
from her mother Wilma, who once was the garbage
Lady, the help, for a white family uptown. Wilma's brown
Skin was the softest variety of brown,
Likened to silky mocha-hued beads mingling
With glints of the golden hour. Garbage,
However, was her epithet. She was crinkled
Black plastic to that white family. Her heirloom
was the oppressive garrote of Jimmy Crow — alive
And well in the hearts of many, still alive
Today in the gashes and slashes brown
Men, women, and children still absorb, heirlooms
from a past infected with rankling vehemence mingling
With entitled gall. Wilma's old hands were dry-crinkled,
Just like her daughter, who now throws the skin in the garbage,
Who marched hard to not be viewed as garbage,
Who plans to keep Wilma’s soulful memory alive,
Who cooks until her freckle-speckled hands are crinkled,
Who is loud and proud to be her shade of brown,
Who gets straight to business and foregoes the mingling,
Who works so her progeny can be have the proudest heirloom:
Pride. Pride in those gently-knotted heirloom
locks, pride in the skin that was once garbage,
Pride, pride, pride. Her ever-beating heart mingles
With the cosmos — she is a celestial being, alive
In the splendor of black joy. She also likes her toast brown
And her sun-kissed raisins ever-so-crinkled.
And while her heirloom knuckles stay tightly crinkled,
Her heart will mingle with stars and keep the love alive,
Because she — we — will never be garbage again. We’re just brown.
"That is him, he did it I tell you"
"I got the rope, take him to the Oak tree"
An angry mob wants justice for the one that they lost"
Most likely, an guilty agitator stirring up the stew
Blind with anger and not on of them can see
Maybe an innocent scapegoat will pay the cost
We see all these malitas pop up, even on the Mexican border
A lot of loose cannons, fighting for a cause
Or just old pot bellies with a .45, looking for attention
Going to over throw the government, re-store law and order
"By God, get her back to the way she was"
Without any common sense, much less any direction
Taking the law into their own hands
Just hang someone so they can get justice
But maybe it is so to get the crowd to look the other way
Once a peaceful crowd, now murdering bands
"Oh it is him I tell you, just trust us"
"We are burning daylight, just do what I say"
This is the case, "two wrong don't make a right"
Most always the guilty dog will bark the loudest"
Pin the tail on the donkey and if the shoe fits, wear it
In time, the truth will shed it's light
The guilty, until caught most always will act the proudest
For vigilante justice, personally I have no use for it
What is greater than a week full of uplifting joy, but also sadden by heartbreaking news.
On Monday, March eleventh, my grandson’s wife after twenty-six hours of labor had a beautiful baby boy. On the other side of the country on Wednesday, a few minutes after midnight, my granddaughter had a handsome baby boy.
Amazing. Two great-grandchildren in one week the ultimate greatest news a great grandma could have. I couldn’t be there for the delivery but was spiritually. Photos were taken capturing every moment of their birth. I am the proudest great grandma. Twelve hours after my second great-grandson was born, I was called with bad news, my sister ten years younger than me had passed away peacefully in her sleep. On Saturday, three days later loud thunderstorms then at three-a.m. nature decided to send hail the size of golf-balls causing damage. What else is in store for my life.
perfect buds unfurl
slowly ages withers dies
celebrate rebirth
A Love Letter
Started writing for the Love Letter Contest but finished too late : (
My Precious Maria,
I can remember it like it was yesterday… your first words to me…
They sang a melody like no other I had ever heard.
I swear my heart did a back flip at “Hello”
Since the day we met I’d seen my world through starry eyes
Through sun drenched days and blue colored skies
And your beauty had become the arms into which I hopelessly fell.
Looking back… I am in awe of the way we were with each other
We were truly like best friends from those first days
And through the years our love grew strong
Our hearts knew this home is where we’d always belong
Walking around with you, holding your hand… I was the proudest man alive
And that feeling never changed throughout our years together.
I told you everyday that I loved You, that you were all the woman I could ever need…
And that you were the prettiest girl in the world, indeed.
I can still feel the press of your sweet gorgeous lips against mine
And how they always made me weak in the knees
I loved when you insisted that I kiss you “like I mean it”
when I was rushing out the door…
I can still hear with pristine clarity…your inimitable laugh at my stupid humor…
how I adored that………..How I miss that……….
I’m wrapped within a loneliness of unrequited bliss
As I stare at photos on the wall and dream a lovers wish.
A wish to feel you loving me, that’s where my anguish lye
or hear your sweet voice saying… “you’re my very handsome guy”…
I promise I will try my best…
to hold on to all that we’ve been blest
inside my heart’s special place
reserved for your ethereal grace.
So whenever I want to speak with you or hold you tight..
I will listen for your whispers
in the flush of the wind on a cool autumn’s night
I’ll see you in the stars when the moon’s full to sight
And I’ll kiss your lips when my dreams are in flight…
In love for all eternity
And baby… although you are gone… my heart is still so in love with you
And longs for the day that we dance once again in the presence of God.