Best Story Poems
Curl around me, take a chance
escape in this sweet romance,
create a story with me . . .
I want to live in your poetry
The beginning is moving so slow
and the middle lingers way too long,
this ending I need to know
- so please don’t let go
never, ever let me go,
because this is where I belong
Wrapped in moments true,
in the story of love- a beautiful mood,
the rhythm and rhyme of you
As these pages unfold- tenderly,
thoughts of you hold me. . . softly
Embrace me, and take a chance
escape in this sweet romance,
create a story with me
I want to live in your poetry
Because this is where I belong,
and the wait has been too long
This ending I need to know
Will I be tangled in moments true,
in the story of love- a beautiful mood,
the rhythm and rhyme of you?
I want to live in your poetry
______________________
~ If loving you means living in your words ~
Authors Note - These lyrics are a reflection of the heart.
I understand that need- of being someone’s beginning, middle and end.
Never letting go.
Friday December 13, 2019- Poem of the Day
My depression grows everyday,
It started as a come and go,
It decided to stay and create a black cloud,
All I can do,
Is sit and hope,
Wish and dream,
Cry and smile,
I fake these looks for my family,
They feel responsible,
Like they caused my pain,
Truth is,
No one caused it,
It just came,
because a boy,
I loved,
Died,
All alone,
All my fault,
Not being there,
I was so stupid,
So young,
I yelled at him,
Told him i hated him,
Told him to leave me and never come back,
His friends came and got him,
They drove him home,
He decided to come back to see me,
My fault,
My fight caused,
His death,
He tried to get to me,
A car smashed his,
Head trama,
Lungs smashed,
Face scared,
Last words said,
I hate you,
I rushed to his side,
Last thing i hear,
I love you,
Never forget me,
He passed away,
In my arms,
Me in tears,
Unable to tell him,
I love you too,
Never could I forget you,
Your my heart,
My soul,
You'll always be with me
Abigail’s Spring
Beneath the shelter of winter’s barren arbor
My winter abused heart
Watches the day’s light linger in the sky resisting darkness -
Begging to play a little longer every day –
Pushing twilight away at arm’s length with pink and brilliant orange
Leaving wispy trails of color in the sky;
Urging empty branches and shivering wheat
Lift up their eyes from bruising rains
And crushing chill of wilderness storms;
Seeing here howling tirades of blizzards
Trade places with long sunbeams stretching slowly
Across my sun starved shadow, warming the winter’s wildness -
Coaxing pale green shoots to peek timidly at meadows
Covered with patchwork quilts of blue and yellow -
Orange scattered across arching hills –
Welcoming the face of spring with arms spread wide;
Listening for the bleating of black faced sheep
When they shed their fleecy coats;
Not looking back into the breath of moaning winds,
Longing sighs transformed into shouts of laughter
Chase themselves across the plains in children’s games;
My spirit, once wrapped in hibernation, feels the changing of the wind
Running up the road – knocking on the gate -
With a moveable feast born of abundance;
Stone cold frozen heart beats again in rhythm with gracious blessings
As the simple sparrow teaches
Her young to fly with the morning light
Rejoicing on warm nights filled with songs of mourning doves –
My face turns - embracing this greening valley -
As spring sprints breathlessly up the path.
April, 2020
Contest: Personal Favorite No. 2
Sponsor: L. Milton Hankins
5/16/20
Contest: Poetry Marathon Mile 13
Sponsor: Mark Toney
30 Lines
First place - Brian Strand Your Choice B - 5/17/20
Number 1 Best New Poem - 6/13-20
Poem of the Week - 6/20/20
First place - Brian's Choice G 6-21-20 - Brian Strand
First place Your Best Poem of 2020 - John Hamilton
Top Ten, #10, Poet Destroyer 11/7/20
Chosen for publication in PS It's Poetry
"It was 6 or 7 years ago
Or so I'd like to think
I traveled to my eye doctor..
(I should'a seen a "shrink"!!)
My dad and I we awaited
In a filled up waiting room
Patients all a'seat
Magazines all askew
There wasn't much to say there
There wasn't much to do...
Slowly I did notice
Some odd glances made at me...
Some hand-covered conversations...
Some smirks I seemed to see
It made me feel self-conscious
They seemed fixed looking at me in my seat
When slowly I did realize...
That they were staring at my feet...
I looked down, and to my horror
And much to my surprise...
A sight I could not fathom...
I could not believe my eyes!!!
For one foot was well fitted
with tennis sneaker white...
The other a black dress shoe
It was a startling sight!!!
Now I found how hard it was
to hide one's mismatched feet
I wished to God to run out
And escape onto the street
I was red with great embarrassment
and shocked how stupid I could be!
Had I been that darn sleepy?
Or could I just not see?
Then it slowly dawned on me,
Well, darn it, here I sit....
Proves I need an eye-doctor...
and I don't give a sh__......."
(Alternative Ending for Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater)
Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater.
Do you think he kept his wife so well
by putting her inside a pumpkin shell?
Inside that shell she had no room
to move around. A rotten groom
was Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater.
In the end, his wife could not be found
by friends or family. He’d thrown away the key,
and his wife was not allowed
to leave that stinking pumpkin shell.
Rumor is from loneliness she died.
Peter cruelly put all empathy aside.
The story never gets too old.
It never loses flavor,
About the sweet young peasant girl,
Who was the mother of our Savior;
And how He grew into a Man,
And became a great teacher,
Surpassing all the wisdom,
Of the profits, leaders and preachers.
He didn't teach by word alone.
He taught us by example.
The way He lived His life became,
Testament more than ample.
He didn't merely preach to us.
He led us by example,
For He knew that words were not enough,
He knew we needed samples.
He was a lamp unto our feet,
A sign to point the way,
Teacher, Friend, Brother, Lord,
He taught us how to pray.
He showed us many miracles,
Showed us Who and What He is;
Told us why He came here,
To claim back what is His.
Satan tried to steal from Him,
What was always His.
He made us, claimed us, bought us back,
Thrice over we are His.
He taught us love and patience.
He taught us loyalty.
He showed us truth and goodness,
And gave us dignity.
The story of His birth and death,
His triumph over all,
Is never boring, dull or old,
He's still reaching out to all.
Worn wood is on the barn
like wrinkles from a hard life
Many long years have passed
It served its purpose, now filled
Things people didn't want to let go
As I walk toward the entrance,
I could feel memories burn
Not mine, but others that are left behind
It is like the flowering scent of Lilac
It stays, it does not leave
I thought I could hear chicken clucking,
along this dirt path with weathered dips
Rosy colors emerging in the sky, remind me why
we hold onto things that are so precious
No matter how old or worn, it doesn't matter
The barn is full, there is no emptiness
Then, sun gives reminders of color before dark
It is quiet, but for some creaks
Those are just the old barn speaking
For there is always a story to be told
Heidi Sands
3/1/24
(C)opyright
A windswept bluebell I am
even though the sun is high in the sky
The wind ruffled the hair
my skin would slowly freeze like mosaic
Want to paint the picture with beautiful thoughts
but difficult to find the rainbow
Tears, so many tears
my heart ripped apart
The pain took a different form
Your sobbing lungs needed a new life
Lung cancer with spread to the lymphs
You were so weak, like a bluebell in the wind
Suddenly it is not a matter of course to get old anymore
Death did not come abruptly or surprisingly
But it was quite overwhelming when it became a reality
Tears, so many tears
my heart ripped apart
I died a little inside
although I will always carry you in my heart
The blue lights are gone now
I have chosen a place near the coast
You loved this place
No exhaust smell or busy people
In the natural cycle your ashes will be spread in the wind
While the birds flying towards the horizon
Nothing can fill the emptiness I feel
From life to death, the road is so short
Rest in peace, I loved you dearly
Tears, so many tears
my heart ripped apart
A simple bluebell is left alone
The clock chimes inaudibly
08.02.2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
I died a little inside : Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
1st place in the contest
Poem of the Day 09.02.219
Sarah’s Story - Mental Illness
Sarah, the “Crazy Lady,” was a familiar sight,
roaming the streets any time of day or night.
Her foul body odor announced her presence,
as she paraded around in her filthy, smelly garments.
Walking barefoot regardless of the weather,
in her state of mind, she couldn’t do better.
Children teased and made fun of Sarah,
reciting ridiculing ditties, adding to the drama.
Behind her a lively entourage would follow,
taunting and calling her names creating a sideshow.
They howled with childish laughter,
as Sarah hurled angry profanities after.
An avid collector of all kinds of trash,
she transformed her abode into a garbage stash.
Sarah’s odd behavior made her fair game,
to unkind people who had no mercy or shame.
While many folks turned a blind eye,
young boys threw rocks and other missile,
at the roof and windows of the shack she occupied.
Behind bushes, they would scamper away to hide,
as Sarah furiously dashed outside,
brandishing a machete, cudgel, or broom,
screaming out curses, damnation, and doom.
Like a cancer, her mental illness had devoured her brain,
and before long, she was officially "certified insane."
Most agreed it was for her own benefit,
and for the good of society to be rid of this "misfit."
But even though she was locked away in an institution,
no psychiatric treatment could cure her mental condition.
When Sarah finally died, she was unloved and alone;
her passing was hardly noticed, and she was mourned by none.
Note: This piece was inspired by a true account. While we have made great strides in the study of mental illness and understanding it, unfortunately negative attitudes and beliefs toward people who have mental health conditions are still common. Thus, as a society, we still have a long way to go to improve our attitudes and to show more caring and compassion for those who suffer from various types of mental illness.
08-06-2015
Contest: Mental Illness
Sponsor: Nathan D.
Placement: 7th
Dancing Water
silk cobalt tide
narwhals take a dive
How deep is the big sea?
:-) Contest
A heart read and quoted by many in this lifetime
Battle scars that remain and yet shielded by a peace of mind
Walked several miles and traveled while teaching others how to embrace
Remains courageous, faithful and strong with persistence in any given case
Blindsided by those who are willing to love and cherish her to the end
Silence becomes her guard, her armor, her protector, and best friend
Tears of pain, and sorrow, all of which are from a past memory
Times shared, lost and gained, the negative days are history
Mental pictures are drawn from imaginations that lead her to an untraceable place
Recruit no one, for life has taught her that there is no room for more mistakes
A mind reader that has established herself to be two steps ahead
Portrays an interesting novel, a world kept secret unread
Admire her dearly for her patience, wisdom and knowledge untold
How does she continue to live life so freely far from her empty soul?
Pace, G
INK-U-SCRIPT
Our sweet dog Holly lies under our tree
She is wagging her tail so gleefully,
Knocking about the light Christmas tree balls.
She becomes quite shocked as one of them falls.
Holly thinks her gifts are ribbons and bows
She chews them and hides them, where?, no one knows.
Holly loves to romp in fresh fallen snow.
Her happy dark eyes just twinkle and glow.
Her cute black face is covered like frosting
While chasing a rabbit she's accosting .
She has a good canine friend named Jessie.
Holly and Jesse's paws get quite messy.
After their long frisky walk in the park
Holly gets tired from her Christmas lark.
When dinner completes her desire,
She loves to keep cozy by our log fire.
Holly is content with pats on her head,
Then snuggles to sleep at foot of my bed.
12-18-17
Christmas Story Contest
Sponsor Eve Roper
*This is a tribute to a very good friend's two dogs,
Holly and Jessie, who reside in England.
Merry Christmas to everyone!
Ellie was just three months old,
When she was brought to our sanctuary,
A safe haven was our fold.
She was an orphan, her mother,
Her sister, her aunt, her brother,
All chased and shot, and left to die,
From our sad experience we knew,
That probably a foul mouthed,
Red faced, sun frazzled man
Whose muscled legs would look
Disgusting,
And who with red eyes bulging
Would say,
What a booty,
We have in the truck today.
He would generate an excitement,
Of the atrocity they had
Committed, saying they would
Receive a bonus this month
Added to their pay.
And what was their booty,
A truck full of tusks
Elephants killed when it
Was still light,
Until dusk
Too dangerous at night.
A war between poachers
And rangers
How could rangers,
Gentle souls, who loved animals,
Equal the poachers trained brutality,
Who had not a trace
Of humanity.
Baby Ellie
Was found,
Starving, scared and cold,
Somewhere in the African bush
Almost dead,
But she survived a shot to the head.
We had other young orphans,
They all would play
As baby elephants do,
And slowly Ellie became stronger.
Her mummy who faced
Horrific slaughter,
Would have been so proud of
Her daughter.
Rehabilitation was done,
It was both work and fun.
Eight months later we all
Thought that it was time,
For Ellie to be with her own kind,
And knew she would find
In the African bush, a new
Family who would care
And love her.
Clumsily she got into the truck,
Perhaps it was fear that
Brought the smell of death near,
Awkwardly.
And hesitantly she walked
Down the ramp,
A mama elephant spied her first,
And with their recognizable gait,
And heavy weight,
Walked to one another,
Swinging their trunks,
And so, they met,
And side by side they walked
To the nearby water pan,
Our hearts sang,
As Ellie turned and let out
A loud,
But proud,
Thunderous trumpet,
Thank you she meant,
I love you too.
Ellie had finally
Come home,
To her own.
Cinderella thought she had found her Prince Charming,
but arriving at the palace was a bit alarming.
Cinderella found it rather absurd,
how each room had women from all over the world.
Then he gave her a dustpan and sweeping brush,
told her:
"Clean the kitchen and then make sure the toilets flush."
Now Cinders, had just escaped her ugly sisters,
she was a bit fed up of cleaning with blisters.
What ever happened to their 'happily ever after?'
Her dreams of love had turned into a total disaster.
Now there's only so far you can push someone,
all a girl wants is to be free and to have some fun.
There was no way she was going to live in another hell,
gathered all the other women and pleaded:
"Lets rebel."
They all got together with their sticks and brooms,
told Prince Charming he can clean his own rooms!
He spent all day scrubbing the toilets clean -
whilst Cinderella sat on the throne as queen.
my life the canvas of my dreams
bound only by limits self imposed
i offer this mosaic to the world
hoping to reach the souls of some
and give a smile to many
AP: 1st place 2025
Submitted on December 19, 2018 for contest YOU ARE NOT DEFINED BY POETRY sponsored by JOHN HAMILTON - RANKED 5TH