Best Souvenir Poems
honeysuckle vines
bumblebee and hummingbird
take sweet souvenir
20th June 2019
Sponsor Tania Kitchin
Contest :Birds or Bees Haiku
Syllables 5 7 5 on howmanysyllables.com
The Silent one,
Is kind enough..
For weaker ones,
He makes you tough..
Glancing at each beginner,
Makes them feel like winners..
Strong words to uplift and cheer,
Silent one is there to create an atmosphere..
He's the motivational speaker,
For new poets, he's a gifted teacher..
Pen your thoughts without any fear,
For he's there as a preacher..
Who's he, what's his name, still unclear,
But humble to talk any time of the year..
Illuminating this place like a chandelier,
Please accept my words as a little souvenir..
The sledding and the skating in ‘63;
the sugar cookies frosted green and red;
the stringing popcorn with my family
and going anxiously that Eve to bed.
The gift exchange when relatives would meet.
Some traveled far to Grandma's little town.
The feast and seeing cousins such a treat!
We stayed and played until the sun went down.
The program at our church where all took part.
Our flock was small but talent did not lack.
The joyous songs; before we would depart ;
the glorious sweets dispensed from Santa's sack!
No holiday to come could be as dear
as when I was a child in my eighth year!
For the "Christmas Past, Present or Future" Poetry contest of Kelly Deschler
(This was also the year my mother met my stepdad and we became a family of 9 instead of 5. A standout year, but also reminiscent of many of my childhood years at Christmas time in Iowa. With so many dear relatives now passed on, the past would be my time I would choose to revisit.)
When I first met you
In your lap I was
I felt like I had known you forever,
telling you everything
And what I didn’t
You knew it by my face
I bet you thought It’d never end,
Who would have even thought
You would leave me like that
When in my hands, your head was
Over a period of time,
I got to learn you
A person so caring and gentle,
With a heart so true
You’ve survived your life
Left us with hurt and loneliness
I told you I’d never leave
Because of the feelings I have inside
I know You
Like no one I have ever known,
And sometimes I wondered
I would be nothing without you
So I have decided
Not to leave you alone
Will come to you daily
No wall, no being can separate us
I love the way we were together,
You used to make me smile
With you I was, You
Now am not even me
Remember me always
and I will too
I always think of
Me and you
And you, Oh you
You are gone…
Though your love was deep
Though my love was deep
Just close the door
and be alone behind the mist
contemplating hope
in freedom of no-thing-ness
my senses capture a union with love a
love infused by seamless
unconscious love
beyond form
beyond
any need to control or divide.
Illuminated by a flash of light
a souvenir of no-thing.
Taking our sleds down hills of snow;
Ice skating though cold winds might blow.
Those days of beauty crisp and clear -
A winter’s treasured souvenir.
Exchanging gifts with those we’d meet
at big reunions. What a treat
to have all my relatives near.
Such a wonderful souvenir!
The talent show my church would host
with Christmas goodies I liked most
and whispering in Santa’s ear.
Our small flock’s joy was souvenir!
Stringing the popcorn for our tree
while being with my family
laughing, talking and filled with cheer.
Togetherness - our souvenir.
The night before - so hard to sleep!
In morning, down the stairs we’d creep.
No times to come could be as dear.
My memories are souvenir.
It isn't just the wonders of the world
that dominate my mind and memory.
Sometimes it is the trifles that cement
in me that dawning consciousness that
makes me suddenly aware, "I'm really here!
I've stumbled on that rare completion
of a dream I only dared to think about."
Of this old globe no other part
retains its power to capture me
so well as one exciting synthesis
of light, of tower and of art.
However it's the unspectacular
that moves me most of all.
I've seen magnificence in Rotterdam,
Brussels, Munich and New York--
all wonderful, and yet it was
the transient things
that framed a city for me then
some fifty years ago. They would again
if they remain today: those little
bookstalls along the Seine.
~
colours in the sky -
ephemeral ecstasy -
brought back memories
I hate to say it, but it's true
You don't like me, I don't like you
It's good to graduate from this place
So I won't have to look at your face.
*Image of Danny folk's Boo by YC.
A Black Cat Tale Souvenir
One Saturday morning,
fourteen-year-old Danny,
my neighbor's kid who lives down the road,
would come over to do the lawn
and some simple house chores,
for extra spending money.
Sometimes,
their American Long Haired black cat named, "Boo",
would tag along.
The lawn was okay just weeding,
he swept, mopped, vacuumed,
then brought in some wood
from my wood cord outside,
and filled the wood bin,
then he swept out
the fireplace.
He then takes the flip-top dustpan outside,
pour its contents into a plastic bag,
tie it close and put it into
one of two trash bins
with plastic flip tops.
Boo, sometimes lounges
on my lanai (porch),
or on one of those
trash bins.
That day,
Danny decided to play.
He tosses the bag up into the air,
then have it drop right into the flipped-top trash bin.
Albeit, the bag got snagged
by the metal latch on the bins cover,
it ripped open, causing black soot
to shroud nearby Boo.
While I was outside checking to see
if Danny covered the wood cord,
the event unfolded before me.
Boo's reaction was as anticipated,
there was black soot trailing a flying leap
that scampered down my driveway
and out onto the opened road,
... gone, gone, gone.
Laughing in pursuit
was Danny who tells me that
he will be back for the money
after he hoses down, "Blackie".
Ha, ha, ha, goes Danny whose clueless
as to the memory he had just made for his future.
Leaving nature to clear the mess, closes I a cover, grinning in the silence.
2022 April 02
*1st Place*
Black Cat
~~Robert James Liguori: Judged 2022 April 03
Remember yesterday
Remember the old days
Remember what we used to say
Remember the plays
Oh! We shall never forget
Because we are not set yet
Remember the luscious trips
Remember the hot lips
Remember the posh hotels
Remember the teeny motels
Oh! We shall not go into details
Oh! Remember the tattletales
Remember, remembrance
Of the good stuff and the nonsense
Remember, remember
When we were younger
Now we’re older, smarter
And wiser, we act dumb and dumber
Nobody knows why that we are like that
Thank God, we’re still normal and not fat
Like the strangers and the neighbors who are spying
And harassing us from winter to spring
Remember the good and bad times
That’s life. That’s letting the words and the rhymes
Flow like streams and rivers in autumn
The yellow leaves swim and slide per ton
Remember everything without discriminating
As we ponder, wonder, sigh, dream, and sing
And swing apart somewhere
Remember, remember.
Copyright © August 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Friday episode
Appetite flings code
Silver a la mode
Tour the retail shoppes
Seek the precious hop
White metal on top
Buy this big fancy
Solid and heavy
Fond delivery
Choice fills poise my dear
Heed the vintage cheer
Buy the cast most clear
A collector knows
Precious metal shows
A bright afterglow
There is a feeling
In times so fleeting
So savour living
Silver coin so pure
Clear design allures
A classic that's sure
A wonder of craft
Sculpture in bold draft
Worth and wealth enough
There is a nice tale
In this sanguine sale
Let passion avail
Leon Enriquez
18 January 2015
Singapore
departures, reservations and dreams
can all be changed in a single wish
we have shared too much
moments flowing within moments
souvenirs of that which cannot be bought
there is so much left to explore
bridges to cross our future to build
Sunday mornings busy doing nothing at all
lovers within city limits with no limit on love
daybreak and dusk free for the taking
ice chilled champagne to warm the soul
the surreal joy of love in the afternoon
hot cappuccino sweet to the lips
you and i belong together
call this city home take another plane
leave some other day stay with me
i am yours to keep
a city souvenir
Irish
Every night, we take the moon home.
Split it in half,
and tuck it away beneath our ribs
for safe keeping. I always wince,
because of bruises that never
heal but her smile kills that pain,
and when we get home
we get to dance under the same
light that led us to each other,
fashioning our love to the
ceiling above, so it’s shine
can light the only world that
matters to us anymore.
When we get home,
the rest goes dark,
and Earth’s rotation
adapts, forced to synchronize
with the steps of our feet
across the only real living room.
She says she’ll give it back
when I decide the pain is
no longer worth walks in the
shade of rain.
t e a s
ing me with
the zap of lightning’s charm.
But you see,
this burdened cage of love’s misery
is a metronome’s swing to the
beat of infinity.
And so I press play on the
heart of this, my favorite song
and once again, hold out my
hand..and wait for her to
take my pain away.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
Dried roses fate
I flatten fit
Laminate it.