Best Reams Poems
When my time is done and I am finally laid to rest
I don’t want to be recalled as one who lived life depressed
So as I wrote my will, I chose to leave an instruction
That laughing gas be inhaled by all those at the function
No mournful eulogies will a pastor have to invent
For my funeral will be held under a circus tent
When dozens of clowns emerge from the tiny Volkswagen
Reams of my silly limericks Bozo will be dragin’
And as they’re read aloud, family and friends who knew me best
Will say, “She had a sense of humor, this we can attest.”
Mimes will mimic me trying to write the world’s best novel
As my corpse hangs from the trapeze, surely they will marvel
Laughter will ensue as they shoot me from the cannon
Flying high in my demise across the great Grand Canyon
All the children will smile and there’ll be no tears allowed
So no one will ever remember me as a “dark cloud”
There are people who seem to take life way too seriously
When I meet my Maker, don’t view this as a tragedy
Dad called me his “happy girl,” so let me go out that way
I want to leave them laughing as I reach my judgment day
Date: Written March 26, 2011, entered in contest December 11, 2018
Contest Name: Make Me Actually LOL Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Can a child ever forget, how deep a mother’s love abides
All those days since birth, till now I’m grown she guides
Remembering her smile, so tender, so warm as her embrace
More than soothes away my pain, my fear of failure and disgrace
Even in my dreams she comforts, her voice, her scent would stay
Never will her being mother stop, till when I’m old and gray.
26 March 2015
Contest : Acrostic on Mother's Day - 1st Place
Sponsor : TAMMY REAMS
I am from Great Britain – it’s not a rumour
I always try to write with a sense of humour
In 1996 we moved to live in the Isle of Man
I can say with hand on heart that I’m Jan NOT Stan
Work with youngsters who have ‘special needs’
Very rewarding occupation - but challenging indeed!
I am short in stature – guess I have low ‘elf esteem’
Tall greying men I adore – I love to see them in my dream
I love to eat plain chocolate – don’t need to watch my weight
I’m really quite petite – my hubby thinks I’m great
Met my husband Bob at Radio Lollipop
Both were volunteers – he loved my low cut top!
Love to listen to music and go to hear a live band
Best gig ever was ‘Queen’ - the best band in the land
I have a wonderful son he is my pride and joy
He’s at university now – no longer my little boy
Started to write poetry when my husband got cancer
To get my thoughts on paper to me it was the answer
My friend Jenny Brewer introduced me to poetry soup
Took me a month to join but I’m so glad I joined this group
Wrote thirty poems with Darren as Jadazzle United
When Daz returns to good health I will be so delighted
I am happy when with friends but like my solitude too
Try to do my best in everything I do
The past 14 months have been so challenging for me
With writing I can escape and set my emotions free
Now my dad has passed and mum is in a care home
I am now ‘free’ and my self-confidence has grown
12th April 2015
Contest: Bio of a Poet Tammy Reams
~awarded 1st place~
When my final shadows cling on desperately
Where I fight formidable battles
to merely hold the light
I send you loving vibrations
and soul sustenance
Deep from the cathedral
of one heart to another
where today no choirs sing
nor symphonies play
Yet it is here where we meet
in spiritual solace
here to surrender
and exchange inestimable treasures
recollecting memories
like unopened letters
Galaxies are stretched
over chronicles of shared history
Nebula birthing stars
will be exposed
in forth-coming conversations
bringing short-lived fulfilment to you
Hungry to feast
now will be the time
to approve your blood art vision
and with my own haunting surrender
as dappled shades ink stain your chest
I will reside with you and share, mesmerised
pens - by branding
as this will be your written reams to me
your artist's pallet or brushed canvas
no need for words
and yet creating
mysterious magical moments
Bitter-sweet the music
that dances taut guitar strings
but now blood approved
please go kick your heel up
return to your laughter
and ride on the breeze
for not all are lost
change not
for I am with you always
to love, listen and comfort as one
with you in me and I in you
as masterpiece
If I was to write of love, then from my
nib your heart would flow. Dreams
would be the parchment on which I
scribe, and your fragrance the sentence
formed. A desire and passion would
flood my page, with intermittent kisses
instead of punctuation. Chapters of
grace would fill your eyes, the contents
feelings spill your soul. The ink from
deep and pulsing veins, would secrete
the validity of my emotions. I see and
do not see, for with your absence my
page is blank, yet in your thought reams
I write. Let this page be a blanket on
which those eyes could sleep, and
realize my love is not a dream, but
reality in reaching words.
In a magical forest among the purple ice plants
the queen fairy floats by inside a bubble and chants
"Come to me all fairy lights and play softly among your flutes"
hundreds of fairies fly to her in a great multitude they swoop
Soft music from the fairies make the flowers start to sway
bending low and high reaching for the sky they splay
The flowers bouncing each bubble with a fairy inside
giving each a beautiful and peaceful joy ride.
T Reams
Come and gone like small twister
like the cloud of debris he’s left.
Echoes of Charlie Brown’s buddy Pigpen
blow through the cobwebs in memory.
Left over coffee cups replacing
Transformers still dumped in the attic.
Reams of knarley skateboards, wheel-less,
lay in piles like so much unburnable refuse.
The obligatory hugs and peck, over and done
the never paid chauffeur collapses…
Ah, to have him always near,
So, each kiss was not quite so dear.
The last fair maid on parade has wandered across
the home front, wondering about her predecessor,
still tacked with magnets to the fridge,
still part of my heart and his…
Sons…they say, do not cause such angst.
Couldn’t prove it by this mother.
This maternal blimp of unused helium
was not permitted a girl child.
One did come and fleetingly leave before formed.
We’ll never know the sweetness of her.
Let the image of his manly self disperse, this son..
into the mist as his Father’s has…
to be remembered again, only in times of need, his need,
for to do anything else, would be to rub salt
in an open wound.
Poet: D. Guzzi
*the day after Christmas
The island birds have done their work,
Fed their young, and now take roost
In swaying palms with the setting sun.
I too have filled my sunny day
With mundane chores, I've toiled away
Until this magical twilight hour...
When I drink my tea and wander
Over reams of creative poetry.
Your romantic words have inspired me...
Let me fly freely... through the galaxy.
Though evening news causes much disdain
Your brilliant words bring delight again.
Romance blooms from pen to paper
In such vivid and fragrant floral bouquets.
So many forms and varieties I am astounded,
I can't take my weary eyes away!
The night is virginal and humid
As Jasmine releases her sultry scent...
Romance me with your tales of love
Which I respect as heaven sent.
As I read poems half through the night
They color dreams in dawn's twilight.
© Connie Marcum Wong
.
This desk with its scattered papers,
blotted ink and unsealed envelopes…
passages penned and tossed
in the confusion that lives and breathes in my mind…my heart
Distance frames the walls of
the addressed…since canceled
Splintered dreams on the edges are worn,
time has shaved the moments…the places
on broken calendars swinging freely
of lost dates scratched within the numbered boxes
Sorrow carved in the fine oak grain
by an empty pen with dulling point…dented
Poetry sits meaningless
with rhyming phrases of hope…wishes…love
begging for but a brief visit,
only to be discarded between reams of teardrop leaflets
Verses formed deep within a vacant heart,
a lonely space, emptied by the loss
I write in an absolute mist,
fog induced renditions of another’s touch,
formulating in the same words…always the same words,
repeating in the darkness that sighs in rhythm of a flickering candle flame
Over and over,
echoing the halls of this barren heart
Shadows drain the breath
of hopeless desires…built on manicured dreams
within a world collapsing in shredded
prose, and fractured fingers, still writing
I am lost
without her…
10/14/16
The Poet's Ache
Greg Barden
I have a thrill and a high profile skill
I must have dominance I will get your full confidence
I crave for lust even though you disgust
I control all things with you as you go on a stroll
I will make you bow down to me this will be your downfall
I am very intelligent as you become very diligent
I will stalk you as you start to feel distraught
I'm just your neighbor, or maybe a co-worker
Do You Feel Me? Do You Want More?
2/3/15 T Reams copyright Contest: 5th Place
I was born, Bronx, New York, in the year 'Thirty-Nine',
the first child with a brother who followed in time.
Ten years later, moved North, Hudson Valley, same State
where I've settled, lived on with my loved ones to date.
But when young, in my school, two fine talents emerged,
and my teachers spared hours to encourage my urge.
I enjoyed my young years while I painted and penned;
lots of canvas and paper used up without end.
At eighteen, I then married the love of my life
and enjoyed my new path of becoming a wife
to my US Marine, very handsome and true;
Parris Island, our home for a year, almost two.
By the age twenty-five- was a mother of three;
a fine son, two sweet girls, a complete family.
We worked hard every day and our life was so good.
I wrote poems and painted whenever I could.
Later, painting with oils was the pastime for me-
while I studied for years at an art gallery.
Varied art shows, displays, and a job filled my time.
Soon I sold many pieces and life was sublime.
Yet, the years went by fast and at age thirty-nine,
I enrolled in a college to study part-time.
Six years later, I earned my prized English degree-
a BA—and a Minor in Business for me.
Then my pictures with words replaced those done with art,
and I soon published poems of life and of heart.
Yet along in this time of my great writing spree
I worked hard every day as our business VP.
For a full twenty years, we worked hard faithfully
after hubby retired as the Chief of FD,
selling our fire equipment, all types, big and small
to FDs, factories, district schools, and the malls.
Our dear children all married, with families too,
are involved happily in whatever they do.
Happy grandma of five- twenty-five to eighteen-
and one granddaughter married two thousand thirteen.
We retired, sold our business thirteen years ago,
still so busy with life, with its ebb and its flow.
We are proud and so blessed and thank God up above,
for our days and our life of good times filled with love.
April 11, 2015
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Where Are You From
Sponsor: Joseph Soper
Judged: 08/01/2017
~2nd Place~
Contest: Bio of a Poet
Sponsor: Tammy Reams
Judged: 04/18/2015
Form: Anapestic Tetrameter (12 syllables, 4 feet per line)
I remember that place
in green pastures called home.
But where are you now
“Union Yard, Britton Holm”
Deep in reams of memories
indelible you lay,
reposed at the helm
of a life rushing by.
Guess i’ve played life’s
generation game,
yet somehow you appeared the same!
Misguided my mind
in local pursuit,
when reminded
one does not belong,
the only stranger there was i.
Sometimes I try to tell myself
that life yesteryear was never real,
just a fantasy of one’s youth
the way I use to feel.
“But you are so astute”
No one to change nature’s way
when every step together we retraced,
“Only the human race it seems fluctuates.”
From time to time
the dream awakes, then swiftly abates,
even the memories seem to fall
like autumn leaves
that swirls within the gutter,
when I see urbanization,
spread its wing
like some gigantic woodcutter!
Alas no more the sight
no more the sound
no more the light,
in this life to be found
in that foundation called home,
the last bastion of my folks,
only a memory of love
and a mind at will to evoke!
© Harry J Horsman 2013
We were both so young full of spirit and fun
She's the Indian I'm the Cowgirl as we move along the ground just fooling around
Running through the house attacking each other with laughter and joy trying to be coy
We see the rifle with no knowledge of great threat
Just giving us a peak with nothing to regret
My sister grabs it first and play shoots me but I'm quick and hold a might sway
I'm a strong cowgirl aiming to attack
I snatch the rifle from the Indian as she starts to retract
I AIM-- I SHOOT--
BANG!
My breathing has stopped but I'm not aware
My ears are ringing
Do I run and hide do I start screaming?
For death I do not know and everything is now so slow
Is she just sleeping or can I hear her weeping?
Mama where are you? You were just ten steps below but you do not show
My sister must be sleeping a blanket will help her weeping
Gently I cover her but she doesn't seem to know
Her long brown hair now has an odd red glow
I'm only a child but my mind is going wild
My tears of fear blind me as I fall to the ground
Many days have passed me as I have grow old
but I can still remember her grave with the Angel stone.
T Reams 10th Place for my Sister Amber I Miss You
I see her as she starts to approach toward me
carrying roses for her special day
her mind in an hypnosis state not aware this is the closest I've been to her
as I start to forbear from her
I have watched her for days and days have become weeks
she is not meek but 'oh' so, so sweet
my heart beats a thousand beats in the anticipation to come
with my new techniques just for her that will occur
The echoes in my mind talk to me as I get to close to her
and warns me not to impose or I may become exposed
I will silently watch her for now and I give her my vow
you are mine my sweet divine!
Do you feel me? Do you want me?
T Reams
Six months have passed since you walked out on me
Wearily I climb the stairs and try to sleep
My tears freely flow and my lilac pillow is soaked
I have to swap it with the one where your head used to lay
I’m lost without you
I shut my eyes tightly but all I can see is your face
Now I truly know what heartbreak is
The pain is like nothing I have ever known
Like glass shards piercing my heart
I’m lost without you
My life is empty without you by my side
No one to share my fears and wipe away my tears
No one to curl up with and share my love
I want it all to end
I’m lost without you
Feel like I can’t go on
I take comfort in the bottle
Have lost my job, lost my dignity
I have lost everything I once held so dear
I’m lost without you
Friends say it will get better
I will pick up and move on
But when you find ‘the one’
Why settle for anyone else
I’m lost without you
I can’t go on drowning in a river of tears
For me there is no tomorrow
I have no wish to carry on
So this is goodbye
Without you – I’m lost
03~07~15
Contest Tammy Reams – The Pain Of Night - N/A