Best Storybooks Poems
I wish for days past
and yearn for that kind of love...
and the wind whispers
I wish upon the stars at night and hunger to go back, back to when things were beautiful in my world. As a child I walked hand in hand with father into nature and he taught me all he knew. I miss that. Mother taught me all she knew about the flowers in her garden, now I have my own garden. I know she is up above tending Heavens gardens ! I thirst for days when life was easy when the decay of humanity was far away in my childish mind and I only cared about dolls and storybooks ...
the wind takes my hand
come it mumbles to my soul ...
take an unknown path
_________________________
April 4, 2021
Poetry/Modified Haibun/Wish
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1343-878-04
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, All Yours (Apr 6)
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 04/05/2021
First Place
So beautiful, lovely and sweet
from shiny hair, to dainty feet;
Your pretty smile and innocence
rivals the moon’s incandescence.
I treasure times when we can feast
on storybooks, bored not the least;
At tea, content with lemonade,
and cookies topped with marmalade.
Daughter of mine, eyes full of mirth,
my heart sings praises for your birth.
*inspired by Eve's painting and a letter I made for my daughter around 5 years ago.
16 November 2015
Kim Patrice Nunez
Oil Painting Contest - 2nd Place
sponsor: Eve Roper
In a weightless state of tranquility,
paraphrasing relentless thoughts of motion
in my head into words, which 'til now
have laid dormant in unsung verse, waiting
for you to shine brightly upon them.
Freshly painted impressions mark
the beginning of halcyon days, where gulls
hover just above waves that barely
kiss the shoreline, burying tiny toes
beneath the coolness of wet beached sand.
To what shall we compare thee or can
your effulgent beauty be measured
by metered stanzas of verse taking form
on rice paper and egg shells so that the yolk
slips out draining lucent into the earth's core.
Your wisdom surveys the high seas,
coursing through cavernous veins that harbor
quietly in safety channels, as zephyrs
challenge moist underbrush among youthful
lips, blowing innocent kisses in playful semblance.
Oscines sway in sync beneath heaven's domain,
bathing in rays of sweet luminosity,
as sun-drenched fossils rise, reborn,
reclaiming their gaiety to shine unobstructed,
teething along crevasses of incandescence.
Embrace these Sun days, reflecting
on fireside chats and old storybooks,
reciting euphonious tales that burn mellow,
rising to greet the eyes of omnipotence
with chants of celestial song and dance.
And to this place we call rapture,
let wings of sober doctrine reveal
where grace resides within Sol's castle,
waiting for the children to come forth
with clasped hands in joyful unison.
Such days will greet warmth openly,
without hesitation, so the orbiting
star becomes ever more pliant,
allowing whatever name you choose
to objectify it, to stand always...
Bright, within itself.
TECHNOLOGY has finally overcome STORYBOOKS;
psychic VISIONS and scientists have foretold.
COUSIN prefers these new-fangled technologies;
it's a tiny book stronghold.
When I was little and my world was small,
I had a fascination with island storms’ call.
As moist hot air ascends the skies and dark clouds form,
I grab my storybooks and set up my dorm.
Dorothy had Toto; I will have my brown book
For I never know what will happen to my nook.
While my folks prepare for the uninvited visitor;
I hardly mind, rather I get ready for pleasure.
Before the wind blows and the rain falls;
Grandma would serve meals and fill our bowls;
Lest it will be cold and tastes no good;
When darkness hit our humble abode.
Light(e)ning forks spread the cloudless skies;
Draw vivid images and emotions high;
I wonder then Noah was calm!
For us, children, we'd shriek and run!
When the breeze starts to whisper a humming cry,
We would start to gather ‘round father and sigh;
It is a cue for a tale to be told
And Pa always has stories untold,
Trees swirl, sending gusts whimper against the pane;
Violent waves tossed Crusoe’s ship to our brain.
Storms make stories in its marvelous form;
Stories birth silence and awe midst a storm;
As the wind howls in the stormy night,
Stories, like pray’r, make us feel alright.
6/30/2014
the “changed man”
have you seen the face of the “changed man?”
you know, the one who lost the girl but
wants to get her back---
so he converts himself
into the antithesis of what he once was,
in order to get back together with someone who
never was satisfied with who he was to begin
with?
seen the way he cleans himself up now?
(it’ll last until she comes back to him)
seen the way he opens the door for strangers?
(it’ll last until she comes back to him)
seen the way that he’s modified his own personality,
(it’ll last until she comes back to him)
in order to keep from offending her, in order to
(it’ll last until she comes back to him)
be interested in every single word she says, in order to
(it’ll last until she comes back to him)
get back what it was that he lost.
but what this “changed man” lost
was more than a woman, more than a relationship---
what he lost was time,
just as she pointed out when she was leaving him
&
the time that passed is never coming back,
regardless of how much he wants to be together with her
in order to make it all feel like it had some point,
like there was a reason for everything,
like they had been meant to be,
like the storybooks tell little children in
nursery school.
ode for the “changed man” to give up the gimmick &
be himself,
ode to know that there are more fish in the sea---
ode that she might do the same & leave him for good,
(just like she said that she would)
rather than mold him into something that he cannot be.
Storybook Dreams
As sunset paints sky with liquid gold
Gilded dreams wait to tease bold
Wrapped in crimson robe’s affection
Mirroring tranquil books reflection
Within the fringes of a dream
Dance fancies waiting to be seen
Tucked sweetly in illusions bed
Pillow plumped under her head
Drifting off to fairytale land
While angels gently hold her hand
As the hour strikes midnight song
Rapunzel lets down her hair so long
Three bears dance in their forest den
Golden locks race across the glen
Snow White’s eyes from a kiss flutter
This prince for her and for no other
A pumpkin carriage with horses prancing
While Cinderella sparkles inside dancing
Riding on storybooks golden star
Her dreams taking her ever so far
Into pictured window’s storybook world
Where only her imagination can explore
~~~ Debra Squyres @ 2013~~~
My heart utters gently: you are seven;
I am too. Yet, the bloom of womanhood
carries us now unto fields where
spiced pleasure and abandonment mingle…
I reminisce our childhood years, when as a girl,
we would look out the bay window
till late evening, awaiting Dad’s arrival.
How cold those months while we freeze
in longing, in tireless dismembering
from an absence you , I could not bear:
oh, we escape through storybooks, art-play,
even dialogues with a guardian-moon
allowing the release of damn cries, ‘ We don’t
need a soldier, we need a father!
Although the fear of sudden loss remains,
this navel spins in unified order; knowing
he loves us despite his passion for freedom.
It is about time we embrace a wholeness
ordained by healed seasons… then to dance
around the fire, under dusk’s awakened joy;
searching for the magic of stars…and treasure
each purpose of Dad’s cherished footprints.
..................
Laura Loo Contest: Any Poem Won in November ( not from mine)
Written 10/17/2017
Resubmitted: 12/3/2017
Contest: What Child Is This
Since early childhood storybooks of armored knights
riding beautiful horses held my fascination,
had I lived in that era of adventurous delights
I would have joined them to get the same admiration.
It's the unknown the story of a knight
who met a peasant girl of ardent creed
in some unpleasant times of war and fright;
it's such a great story for us to read.
Alex de Roux was the Norman commander:
handsome and strong; his curly long hair was red,
his eyes were of soft blue, and his skin was fair
he was sent to Abella to conquer its land.
And riding on his white horse one afternoon
he spotted a beautiful girl picking apples,
she had the features that made a soldier swoon:
big green eyes, long black hair and supple red lips.
Alex said something in Frankish expecting a response,
Silva looked at him and bowed if he were a seraphim,
" No, I am a very humble knight, not a king, please rise! "
She did not quite understand the language, but obeyed him.
He pointed out to the stately castle on the distant hill,
" Look, that's my second home, I have built a sturdy fortress."
some profound words he spoke expressing his benevolent will,
" I like to marry you soon and have ten children or less."
Silva tried to catch the meaning of every sentence,
and Alex replied by stretching out his two wide palms,
counting each single finger with extreme confidence...
then approaching her, he got lost in those pretty eyes.
Written on 4/23/2016
A bluebird sits in the old pine tree,
dressed in blue for the jubilee.
He plumps his feathers for the show,
(he's an absolute Romeo.)
He hears the other birds complain,
But Bluebird's there to entertain.
He ignores the jealous looks,
his name will be in storybooks.
Bluebird's soft lilt and rolling sway,
All of nature wants to stay.
To listen to his graceful song,
he wants you to come along.
He's the star of this bird show,
(he's an absolute Romeo.)
I viewed the dawn through mist of fading dreams,
Aware of silver feet upon the roof.
Eaves shivered wet, while raindrops welcomed spring
With murmured sounds, and giving me excuse
To burrow down and doze, with warming trace
Of childhood mornings, which have blown away.
I stretch my arms and rise with no regrets,
And see a rainbow’s face
That arches over hills so far away,
From crayons of time, that I will not forget
I love the rain that falls upon the grass
And look beyond the margins framed inside.
I sense renewal come with mute caress,
Will find new places where my soul resides.
The child in me will dance among the dew,
In soggy dress and mud between my toes,
Not to be dampened by a state of care…
Although the day is blue…
My inner child ignores the dark and low,
And thinks of rain the gift of something new.
Contentment comes from little things I do
Old storybooks will dazzle wishes, fed…
to make believe that wishes could come true
I drink some tea, with snack of jam and bread,
And once again, with growing up to do
Old scrapbooks found, to leap right through my age
Just one more moment as the child relents
My childhood bids adeiu
Recalling now, how fondness comes with sage
But knowing now, how well those days were spent~
.........................................................................................
In Honor of Cyndi's Contest: Comforts of a Rainy Afternoon
I planted the Daffodils in the hills,
You were thrilled as daffodil flowers bloom,
Amonst the sunny summer fields,
Our room filled with perfume of golden yellow,
With view of dew crystals cover the meadows.
Oh joy....
You planted the Jasmine along the fences,
I loved the scent of white night flowers,
Our lives are entwined, two lovers devined, smitten by love.
I planted the Cypresses along the paths,
Across the way from the garden arches,
Amongst the white Jasmine arbors,
And blue Sweet Lavenders near the Junipers.
You were thrilled at the sights of yellow and gold,
Our hearts growed and filled with joy,
Amongst the pretty flowers and brown soils,
We toiled and planted in the sun.
Raindrops mist turn to showers in the early fall,
Water fills the swollen creek,
You were thrilled at the Golden Poppies,
Red bright petals peeked at the morning sun,
Amidst the sound of swishing hummingbirds,
Perching on the sweet vines of Morning Glories.
Spring came with her rain, it's drenching,
Pouring droplets and wet my face,
Rain water fills the over flowing brooks,
Storybooks of river runs in the sun,
Storms and vast gray skies whirlwind,
Amid the freshness, the signing of my heart,
As the Winter cold chill is over,
So far vast above the horizon.
Those Flowering Quints with Cinnamon mints,
Giving Spring mist blisses in mid Summer,
All over the garden, the flowers sprang,
All that then was consumed by my heart,
Green and blue the hues on facade turns,
As water churning, dancing in the pond.
You planted the Jasmine along the fences,
I loved the scent of all the fragrances,
Our lives are enriched and smitten then,
Amongst the herbs and flowers show,
In the middle of Daffodils meadows,
As you promised to love me so,
To no end .... 'til eternity.
Jieranai (Jeri) Maier
May-December @2003
( THE BLINK OF AN EYE )
With the wink of a flirty eye
And a toss of your silken hair
I know you will be by my side
I`ll give you my love to share
You return my playful wink
I see the sparkle shine through
I know I will be spending
My forever only with you
In the shadow of time
I give my love without hesitation
Carry me on wings of white that blind
Lead me to my destination
Follow me into the sky
On wings of love we'll soar
I'll take you to that sacred place
Where we will part no more
Let us gaze upon the world
Reflecting the moonlight in our eyes
Feel the wonderment unfurl
In the sunlight of our lives
Our love is like a rainbow
After stormy clouds depart
A splash of color on gray skies
To rain upon my heart
I'll ride the lightning for you my love
Electricity pouring from my soul
Can you feel what I am capable of
For eternity it is you I will hold
Thunder pounding in my heart
As your love lays hold on me
A burning passion now ignites
This flame in you I see
They'll read of our lives in storybooks
Of how two hearts beat as one
Forever showing how true love should be
Burning as steady as the sun
The day you were born you are mother and father's miracle,
You were a very calm baby boy.
Walter brought baby Erik and mom home from the hospital,
Mom could stay at home with you for a few months.
You learned to walk and talk,
Loved to read storybooks with mom and dad.
Liked the Fischer Price toys,
Playtime was your favorite,
Then you went to school,
Learned to read and write.
Enjoyed sports, like soccer,
When we lived with grandma and grandpa and mom.
Went to Lorne Park Elementary School with your brother Kirk,
Received good results at school.
I would drive you Erik, Kirk, and Antje to school and back.
Then you went onto graduate from school,
I remember you winning the jelly bean contest and won a jar pf jelly beans,
when you went to Ellwood.
You went to Humberview Collegiate,
I am sure there are many good memories there.
Graduated with your favorite female escort,
I remember the holiday we had in Collingwood where we enjoyed skiiing.
We stayed over the weekend, dinned.
The miracle, that took us two hours to get there. I was still driving in those days.
Your mother's handsome escort to the Federation of Teachers twenty-five year dinner.
Where mother was photographed with the Director of Education, we had a nice dinner.
The nice picnic at Wittchurch with all our relatives,
We bought a bucket of Kentucky Fried chicken and had lunch.
Then there were the days at University where he studied to be a Chartered Account.
Got married to his childhood sweetheart Lisette.
Had a beautiful wedding in Costa Rica.
Sent mom the pictures of the wedding, very beautiful.
Went to live there because the climate was warmer,
Lived in a nice apartment with his beautiful wife.
I remember the days when we shared a Christmas holiday at the Limetree.
Upon arrival we received a Santa and a bag of oranges.
That was such an excellent vacation with Antje, grandma and grandpa and mom.
We met the Thornes, Regina, Eric, Cliff and Tina.
These are beautiful memories,
God has blessed us with them.
Author: Gwen von Erlach Schutz
Memories
You’re a constant reminder of the time that got away,
When seemly not enough hours were available in the day.
I remember all the firsts, and how time seemed to fly,
And now that their gone brings a tear to the eye.
No more constant crying or pacing the floor,
No more frantic worrying of what we could do more.
No more midnight feedings or diapers to throw away,
No more anticipation of the first words you might say.
No more carpet crawling or standing up with a chair,
No more waiting for your first step or food in the hair.
No more cuddly pajamas with the feet built right in,
No more making funny faces just to see you grin.
No more little kisses while sitting on my knee,
No more tippytoes when you were trying to see.
No more kiddy game and hiding out of sight,
No more storybooks before you say goodnight.
No more first day of school or combing your hair,
No more silky blankets or praying teddy bear.
No more crawling in between us in the middle of the night,
No more saving your clothes or measuring your height.
No more tricycles, training wheels, or riding your first bike,
No more blushing moments with girls that you like.
No more dressing like your father or wearing what’s picked out,
No more dress button shirts or pants with a belt.
Oh my precious, handsome son, why you had to grow?
Where’s that little boy that I use to know?
I love looking forward but it hard looking back,
When you’re growing up so quickly and I’m powerless to react.
Make me a promise that you’ll never go away,
And that we’ll keep making memories with every passing day.