Best Rocker Poems
Grandma's old creaking rocker
is full of memories,
of a girl and grandma talking.
Oh, the weeping within;
Grandma's old creaking rocker.
_________________________
August 3, 2015
Poetry/Verse/Grandma's Old Rocker
Copyright Protected, ID 15-696-909-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, A Prized Refrain,
sponsor, Nette Onclaud
Fifth Place
I have a Bentwood Rocker
It's the most cherished thing I own
It is made from the willow branches
of an ancient tree at my grandparent's home.
It embraces me on my back porch
both in the morning and at night
when a pair of cardinals come to visit me
at both the first and last day's light.
I rock in a gentle rhythm
sip my coffee and watch the clouds
and think to myself life's worth living
As I just sit and rock without a sound.
Sometimes I hum a favorite tune
and sometimes I just rock silently alone
somehow this chair seems to center me
It motion washes away life's rough edged stones.
As I sway and think of days gone gone by
of my brothers and sisters and me
climbing up among the branches
of my grandparents big old willow tree.
We used to swing on all the branches
Like the Jungle Book's Tarzans and Janes
Laughing and swingly wildly, never quiet nor mundane
Yelling out profusely, howling out all the Jungle Book slang.
We used to weave together the branches
into leafy wreaths without any thorns
improvised crowns of the greenest splendor
Just as Julius Caesar would have worn.
Sometimes we added in flowers
Daisies and dandelions were always in season
Sometimes we just sat in that old tree
Just happy to be there, for no given reason.
And so decades and decades of years have gone by
My Grandparents have long since passed on
But I think of them often as I rock in my chair
Cherished memories to always remember.
And now the winter has settled in
My cherished rocker sits covered in snow
Waiting for the days of the songbirds return
Waiting for warm days instead of the cold.
It sits silently waiting for Springs blossoms to arrive
for a day when I can rock without being froze
for an evening when relaxing in my comfortable rocker
will signal the end of one of my beloved warmer days.
Copyright Christine A Kysely December 14, 2010
(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved,
Watch out and wait. In fact stop listen and wait. Is that the wailing of a sail sailing by? Of course it is. The fact that an ironed breeze can touch a nautical knot is common knowledge amongst sailors and sailors are neither shaped sharpened sharpeners nor are they saying still shifts stillness. It is the opinion of the official orange kingdom that stalk the juice makers. Creators of squishing. Causing cannibalistic clothes cheating chatty climbers. It is neither within a dash nor a hash key that a full stop is found. And keys can be symbolic and symbolism of a metric metre can be taken to a few zoos to play with caged controlled boxed up animals who wish to run away. This they do with thuds akin to hooves. Strong fur and beaks can move and snap bars. And all are released. Good. Ha the ball is dancing to a top allegro tune in a sombrero and a tutu. Ha the tail of a car is chasing a cat around. Xxxxx multinational z z z z z. With a hypothetical hypothesis hearing harmonic hopping hippopotami z
A royalty rest for small and big butts ~ everybody can enjoy the ride
07.11.2016
- Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
I may not be happy
with the way things are,
I may express dissatisfaction
In my local bar,
But I refuse to burn down
my street in extreme reaction
to some civil distraction--
seems to me somewhat bizarre.
I must take care of business
in my own neighborhood,
Being no part of any fringe faction.
Give me a rocker and a cigar
And let me live in peace
Trying to do what is right
As every good citizen should!
Written August 14, 2022
[or, perhaps, a Rhyme!]
I strapped on a Bass guitar
I'm turning up the speakers
Headphones covering the ears
Sunglasses are over my eyes
Striking the strings with a pick
The words flow out of me
I imagine myself playing in a
Rock band in a outdoor park
The crowds are going crazy
We are having a fun time
Music bringing us comfort
Lights can be seen held up
during the ballads of the classics
It doesn't get any better than this
Copyright By Nicolas "Nick" Crowley 4/2/21
Cuddling your shawl, Mama, I reach for you each night ...in heaven's rocker.
~
One, One Liner - Theme THE OLD ROCKING CHAIR
11.07.2016
Grandma's rocker
Grandma would sit on her rocking chair
Rocking all day long.
The chair was her joy each day.
As she grows old.
She loved to rock on the porch.
As the car drove by she would smile.
Now the rocker is old.
It sets in the cold of the day.
Now that grandma is off her rocker!
on tour, gone to the mountain, raising the roof,
keeping time w/ the music of the spheres;
down that old, ecstatic, out-of-the Way-
honky tonk highway,
a star blazing brighter
in the mystery of the night
in the heart of the desert.
***
(Usury is dead, not God.
There're no bloodied, dancing bears
in the three-ring circus.
There're no circuses.
There's only bread.
There's no organ grinder's cowed monkey,
cap and beggar's cup in hand.
Sweeping, the river runs fuller.
Cacti grow taller, more thoroughgoing,
desert blooms burgeoning,
blooming richer in the moonlight.)
***
Real deal,
saint and sinner,
hunkered thundering over his drum kit,
and coolest in dark shades in the heat and
glare of the spotlight,
he beams, Buddha-like.
Rock it baby
I wanna hear you sing
fill me baby with all of your sins
dance for me show me your sexy sway
drive me crazy baby with your wicked way
you make me feel alive
''hot hot hot''
I can taste you now
rock it baby till I pop
rock it baby don't ever stop!
Sitting in my rocking chair
I feel myself relax,
A quality that every couch
Or stool or loveseat lacks.
The gentle back and forth harks back
To infancy, perhaps,
When we were rocked while being fed
In moms' and daddies' laps.
No matter what the reason
There is nothing to compare
To an hour spent unwinding
In my comfy rocking chair.
The old man still burns wood in his fireplace
But he doesn’t cut it from the forest anymore
He buys it from a friend of a friend of his
And they stack it outside his back door
His wife passed away six years this April
But the old man carries on despite his lose
He says life wouldn’t have been worth a plug nickel
If Edith’s and his path had never crossed
He whittles from small branches he cut last week
And sings some old songs he memorized
But his fingers are bloodied and battered
Since he’s losing sight of his eyes
Ah, but his heart is filled with Gods mercies
And his prayers are not for things of this world
And every morning he raises Old Glory
And watches as the flag becomes unfurled
He spent a lot time across that big pond
And those memories sometime makes him cry
But he never complains about nothing
He says he’s waiting for that message in the sky
He says one day Jesus is coming back in glory
And if he’s alive he’ll be changed in the blink of an eye
But if un he dies it wouldn’t matter
Cause he knows he’ll arise by and by
We buried the old man last July morning
With that flag draped across his coffin really neat
He never once asked for nothing
As his motto was “never ever speak of defeat”
The old house seemed to know he passed on
Cause the shutters and shingles are falling down
And just this morning as I was passing
That old chimney on the side came tumbling down
So many people,
so many screams,
but there’s not a single six string
on the damn TV.
People they love me,
they tell me so,
but you’ll never hear our single
on the damn radio.
Know I’m not passing
or fading away,
have no illusions
when I come to play.
When this gets a moving,
when we shake the town,
leave you hot and sweaty
lying beat on the ground.
Cause I’m an old-school rocker,
make you shake and smile,
yes, I’m an old-school rocker,
make you scream a while,
babe, I just don’t care
about that hip-hop style,
no, I don’t care about your pop,
woman, I’m just here to rock.
So many solos
wailing out loud,
share the pulse and the passion that
I see in the crowd.
Riffs you can swim in,
hooks in your brain,
give them all to the people every
night on the stage.
Know I’m not stopping this
any time soon,
know I’m not crashing
like a led balloon.
When we get to playing
that great wall of sound,
get you rock and rolling,
’till you sing it out loud.
Cause I’m an old-school rocker,
make you shake and smile,
yes, I’m an old-school rocker,
make you scream a while,
babe I just don’t care
about that hip-hop style,
no, I don’t care about your pop,
woman, I’m just here to rock.
silver hair and drabby clothes
looking rather shabby, drabby and old
eyes full of wisdom stories to tell
that would take you to heaven but could finish in hell
hes a hard rockers whose lived a life
who fought by the sword but never died by the knife
hes a hard rocker with a dirty smile who oozes confidence and has smoking
style
more style than you in his big toe
you cant help youself but go say hello
at the bar not a smoke in sight but he stinks of them
do you want a light
you look bewildered as he turns his back
walking to the duke box picking a track
patting a stool to offer a seat
as you sit you hear the beat
he strums the air as the guitar gets loud
he loves the song doesnt care of the crowd
hard rocker continues
I have set in this corner too long it’s true
My hand rails are polished to a light umber hue
My spines have come loose, but they just need some glue
And my cushions have faded from a deep royal blue
Left in the old shed, away I’ve been cast
I may appear shabby just a thing of the past
But the memories I hold will forever last
A reminder of yesterday a history vast
My first home was country, a gift to a bride
Who sewed crimson pillows for her backside
She made me a home on the front porch outside
Where she contently rocked as her neighbors she eyed
I rocked her first child when he came to be born
Moved into the parlor, that floor became worn
With the constant rocking, for he wailed so forlorn
And would only settle when rocked I’d have sworn
I was turned upside down more times than I could count
Ridden like a horse by that boy, like a mount!
Wore out the pillows all on his account
And he once broke a rocker, if I recount.
The years went on by but my life was the same
The boy he grew older and a man he became
Moved to the city, I thought it a shame
It was so far away that he so rarely came
So away to the attic I sat for a spell
Till the old man came took me and mended me well
She sewed these blue cushions as far as I could tell
And set back to rocking on the porch, till she fell.
The people all came their respects they all pay
And the boy came back home, but to mourn not to play
He left with the old man, he took him away
And I was put in this shed on that old fateful day.
But what’s this I see as the door opens wide
A young man takes me and puts me outside
Some small nails and sandpaper returns my pride
New cushions of green, I’m a gift to his bride
My legacy continues in the house on the hill
For comfort and caring I can give still
I’ll be here for the wee one, I’ll wait until
I can rock steady a new life to fulfill