Best Tall(A) Poems
Adopted early after birth
Replanted back into the earth
From small to tall, a tiny root
Withstanding all and resolute
It whispered and it whistled
Every wind song that it knew
It's verdant needles bristled
Glistening in frost and dew
A friend to all both large and small
Seeking refuge in it's shade
To rest and recline, with the fresh smell of pine
And a songbird serenade
From green, to red, to rust, to brown
Giving all it had left, back to the ground
A pine that spent it's time worthwhile
Living life with grace and dying with style
It taught me how to dance in the wind
Whenever it howls, be willing to bend
It taught me how to whistle a song
While giving back, as life moves along
Like you and I, trees live and die
When death comes young we question "why?"
The answer is, it's all by design
Down to the death of a hardy young pine.
Daniel Turner
Of the charming flowers, summertime will bring-
there's one that looms tall- a stately king.
When in bloom, it stands apart-
captivates my heart!
Sunflower
unveils
its power.
Petals- flames of gold,
flare from center dark and bold.
Framed by landscape under sunny skies-
nature's work of art- showcased before my eyes.
June 25, 2019
~2nd Place~
Contest: Writing Challenge 2, June 2019-
A Summer Flower Poetry Contest'
Sponsor: Dear Heart
Judged: 07/07/2019
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Favorite Poem From June 2019 or July 2019
Sponsor: Julia Ward
Judged: 06/02/2020
A poetess, I found so rare,
Cute or sweet? I can't compare.
Her thoughts soar high above the crowd,
A poetess, unique and proud.
She is a nut with a tough exterior,
But inside, a tender tree grows superior,
A seed of potential, slowly taking root,
With time and care, it'll bear sweet fruit.
She drifts off to sleep by the gentle river's sound,
Mountains stand tall, a comforting presence all around,
Springs provide a solace in times of sorrow,
And the sea inspires her mind to explore tomorrow.
She guards her fickleness with graceful ease,
Sensuality hidden, but thoughts that tease.
Her intelligence beyond measure, quite rare,
Beauty that radiates, a dazzling affair.
She dreams of a future where she'll make a mark,
As a doctor with a heart that shines in the dark.
Yet, for all her medical expertise,
Needles make her shiver and freeze.
Amidst her life's rainbow, white reigns supreme,
But midnight blue and pink, like a dream,
Add contrast and depth to her life's theme,
A colorful canvas, a vibrant scene.
The lighthouse by the rocky shore
stands tall, a tribute to the past,
recalling days of sailors’ lore.
The lighthouse by the rocky shore -
forlorn – gives forth its light no more.
May glory’s recollections last!
The lighthouse by the rocky shore
stands tall, a tribute to the past.
Dec. 22, 2018 for Eve Roper's Lighthouse Poetry Contest
The Peak
Nothing easy in life to achieve
But only failure is achievable stress less
The road to success is full of obstreperous
I latter discovered that
End of a war is the beginning of another
No matter how the hindrance
Termites built their house
No matter how obstacles
They keep destroying their target
As tall a tree may
Squirrel pursuit until it reaches the top
Continue doing your worth
Thee will reach the peak
For thee to get thy want
You must be confident
Shakespeare has became a mirror
Wole Soyinka symbolize Africa
They both encounter challenge
They keep pursuing
Till their names are shining like a daily sun
and like a rounded moon
Who is Bigfoot’s Great-grand Daddy?
Whether living in a city or on the mountain side,
People from the world around astound us with their views.
He’s nine-feet tall, a hairy thing, uprightly he flees astride.
Only tracks are left behind and the mystery accrues.
They say that Big Foot does exist and for eons has survived.
A humanoid of greatest size a hairy manlike beast.
Is he really all they say, or are the stories contrived?
And if he lives, tell me, are our imaginations fleeced?
(Genesis 27 … paraphrased…)
Jacob goes to get two goats and steal his father’s blessing.
Their mom prepared a feast of goat, delicious, to Isaac’s taste.
Then, tied goatskin to Jacob’s neck and hands, realizing.
Jacob dressed in Esau’s clothes calmly goes to his father with haste.
Meanwhile, Esau, far away was hunting for venison as asked.
Traipsing around through the scrubby woods tracking.
Moving quickly with his great might to fulfill his father’s task.
A man with hair like that of a goat, his birthright was loosing.
Jacob smelled like Esau and the fields, but his voice…
Isaac questioned, so he felt Jacob’s goatskin clad hands.
Satisfied by the goatskin disguise, destiny made its choice.
Jacob received a blessing of wealth and all of his father’s lands.
When Esau returned with the venison feast, deceit was revealed.
But it was too late his birthright was gone; he was very mad.
“Give me a blessing, father please.” He begged as he kneeled.
You shall live on the fat of the earth…unyoked…his father said.
I wonder –
Is Bigfoot, like Esau, a hunter-gatherer with hands as hairy as a goat?
Does he live independently, a type of man, a scary giant beast?
Wandering upon earth, too and fro, with life barely afloat.
Brothers separated by that ancient deceit filled feast.
Is Bigfoot the hunter-gatherer living on the fat of the land?
Has he since the day of Rachael’s scam lived secluded and beastly?
Have generation upon generation descended that ancient hunting man?
Could Isaac in the Bible be Big Foot’s ancient Great-grand Daddy?
Breaking free from collusion
A watch tower stands tall a look out in the circular prisons
surrounded by wardens laying down prescriptions and rules
with us in the centre fragmented in dead ends and schisms
mirrored glass no one inside we internalise as obedient fools
At the gate high walls conscience barriers and road blocks
imagined barbed wire where we pay fines in constant delusion
monitored in constriction we fail to walk outside of that box
abide by dogma norms lack vision to approach our confusion
Afraid of cul de sacs dead ends stop signs for individual drive
we halt and abide arrested immobilised for society’s sake
accept torturous certainty admit to all guilt and as we shrive
cannot distinguish from needs what is causing us mind ache
Roundabout’s exits guarded by our very own straight jackets
we spin around like puppets on strings to our master’s delight
The ‘panopticon’ demands obedience and we cannot attack it
for lack of conviction rebellion introspection rigorous insight
Unless we break free from chains of what others demand
disregard our dreams our beauty default on individual virtue
the road ends at a four way stop where forever we stand
disunited abolished forgotten and constant imagined taboo
4th January 2017
Written for contest: At the end of the road
Too many people hoping now, and wishing things would change
afraid the Five still in the race are acting pretty strange
They can't believe what's going on, dishonesty brings shame
pass the buck to someone else, when they're the ones to blame
Party doesn't matter much, they are cut-throat as can be
Republican or Democrat, they none will keep us free
The Socialist, the Billionaire, the Con-Man, or the Gal
no matter who, no matter what, they none will call you pal
It's called "I'm in it for myself", you're never on my mind
the changes to America are not your choice you'll find
The Illegals? They'll go no where, that means they're here to stay
Immigrants? There is nothing changed, you better start to pray
We don't like Talking Politics, sometimes it must be done
there could be Off Shore Bank Accounts, one day they'll want to run
Who knows for sure what's on their minds, could one day be like Greece
or Libraries with lots of cash, Donations just a Fleece
A building fifty stories tall, a marquee at the top
First Lady on a Wall Street Board, the games will never stop
A plan by Socialist Design, and E-Mails full of flaws
our Country must resist the urge, and live by all our laws
A very trying time's ahead, do not let down your guard
soon you'll have to make a choice and it may be very hard
The easy part that you decide, a fence down on the border
The hardest part? Fighting back, against the New World Order.....
He entered my life like morning sun that coats the horizon like paint on canvas, that captured my heart.
He entered my life like a butterfly that floats in a net and helped me forget all the tragedies that engulfed my soul.
He entered my life like a sudden downpour from the clouds and washed the misery away, leaving me in a state of awe.
My man is 6'4" tall, a statue that radiates beauty like the statue of David by Michelangelo.
He is wise like the Jedi Yoda, and as charming as a splendid prince.
His wit is as sharp as a razor blade, and he is as humorous as a Jesters' tongue.
His name is Matthew like the Saint in the Bible, and he loves me dearly.
Like winter, he's majestic, lovely and pure, as is our love for each other.
He romances my heart like Casanova romances his conquest.
His ethics is noble as a priest and his principles is majestic as knight.
I love and adore him completely; he has become my second half.
Alas! I found love in a man who is humbled and loving as my splendid prince.
In the telling told, the stories unfold
Of days long faded, in history's hold
Grandma, your presence, a memory gold
In our hearts engraved, for times untold
In Leteng's remnants, your essence we find
Folded carefully in our minds
Each tale, a treasure, to keep and bind
A legacy of love, forever entwined
We yearn to meet you in the beyond
Where black linings fade, and souls respond
United in spirit, by Modimo's bond
Together again, in peace we abscond
With fathers gone, we carry on
Through trials faced and battles won
Progress made, under the sun
Guided by love, our journey begun
Lefedile, Gabobintshiwe, and Uncle Benson
Their spirits soar, their legacy unbroken
Rest peacefully, in realms unspoken
Their light shines on, a token
Mogo stands tall, a man of might
Oree and I, embracing the light
Through storm and strife, we unite
Beneath dark clouds, seeking insight
The twins, now women, radiant and true
Mum's illness conquered, her strength renewed
Obiditswe and family, a bond so true
Together we stand, in love we grew
So much left unsaid, in the afterlife we'll talk
No barriers to keep us apart or block
Nightmares fade, as we embark
On a journey of reunion, in the eternal clock
We miss you, grandma, our hearts aflame
In the tapestry of life, you remain
A guiding light, in joy and pain
Until we meet again, we'll whisper your name
Hybronnet Poem, 14 lines, 10 syllables per line.
-------------------------------------------------------
Brown, white, grey, black crown, across breast black band
Colors saturated with calm grassland
Too Heavy for a bird, too tall a bird
Too less vision, too shy to fly a third
A Haughty look, loves clear view, regal stance
Just 140 left in the world, at glance
The Great Indian Bustard now rare bird
Changing landscapes pushing it to a word
Rewilding is a lie, damage control,
Programs, Funds, afforestation, all swell
Management, Planning are scrabble words play
Critically endangered bird display
A barren land, for want of just land clear
Piece of undisturbed grassland, now so dear
The glacial slope is tall, a vast and perilous globe
It has been a whiteout for nearly three days now
We do all we can with our equipment to maintain our footing
The surface is so uncertain, but the summit is within reach
5 am, Thursday (?), We are awakened by an earthquake
An intolerably loud crack, perhaps a large chunk of opaque ice falling into the sea
Some sort of strange eclipse now, a great silver moon appears overhead
And now---now a wall of molten yellow magma approaches us!
I must stop writing and seek shelter, pray for us small men!
Lavender turkey eggs amid purple straw hat
With fake turquoise frosting,
She sits next to me in the hard pew
What kind of sugar ants will be parading up here now?
For I see this is real frosting she has added
A two-year-old wearing an engaging smile
Sits next to her. Not aware if they are related.
Church gets ultra-busy on Easter morning
Lots of strangers. Is that a Big bird hat?
False alarm. It is a yellow Easter basket hat.
Complete with a giant bunny that dangles down her back.
Made of faux fur, thank goodness. Little girls she sat
beside would be shrieking now if this bunny was real.
Girls cannot keep their paws off her bunny, which has googly eyes.
The next hat walking in has a jaunty cross pinned to the top of it.
The wearer appears arrogant, proud, haughty even,
A blatant contrast to Christ, who was none of these things.
Sh! Someone hisses. "Here is the minister." A hat-less man
Who immediately comments on the wonderful congregation and
The unique hats. He cannot keep his eyes off carrot hat woman.
Her creation is two meters tall - a giant blue bunny holding two bunches of dangling carrots, that take up so much of the pew, no one else can sit there. It matches her wild blue and orange flowered smock that barely covers her knees.
I wear my simple Easter hat with pride,
Cockily thinking I am both subtle and sleek.
Others begin pointing and laughing.
My Easter chick apparently got nervous
and left me several little presents.
I knew I should have made the background brown.
If only I could ... go back in time and like a mystic change my life path with
a magic wand. So, many things I would do different, so many things I could
change. Back, back to my childhood and the day I watched my sister die on
the street. I would cry out loud for days instead of going quiet and keeping
everything within. And when I was being bullied in school as a teen because
I was different, I would stand tall a beautiful Ojibwe girl with black flowing
hair instead of hiding in corners. I have dreams of my Ojibwe origins ...
there on a high cliff
a horse of many colors ...
feathers in the wind
Like magic my baby would not die in my arms, my husband would not crash
his car. Mom and Dad would still be alive. Grandma would be rock, rocking.
My little brother would never have become a peacekeeper and come home in
a box ... but most of all I would embrace this great heritage of mine with all
my heart and soul and not be afraid to say I am proud to be one of The First
Nation People of Canada and I would shout it to the sky ...
a lone Ojibwe girl
gazes at the horizon ...
eagles soar and call
____________________
April 02, 2023
Poetry/Haibun/If Only I Could
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1536-879-02
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, This or That, Vol 17
sponsor, Edward Ibeh, Judged 04/27/2023
First Place
Teeth on your neck,
Warm breath
And the kind of heat
Only another body
Could create
When it touches you-
Fingertips colliding
In the darkness,
Folding lips
Devouring,
Dividing and conquering
Everything left to be
Discovered-
We are quickly running
Out of secrets….
Paper skin that inks
Red
For days before fading,
Waiting to be
Rewritten;
I've never known
A love
Not defined by
A purpose
For pain,
A tolerance to give
So you can take
In return-
I only know how to
Devour,
Divide and conquer
A body,
Sweet talk the guards
Of that glorious
Temple
So I can kneel
At your altar
To pray,
Say amen in your name,
Whisper words
In darkness like
A firm believer,
Light a fire
To teach you
What if feels like to be
Burning
From the inside….
So let the flames
Lick your
Eyes,
Gleam
In the street-light
Outside
That was our only witness-
Oh, God
I roleplay a mean
Servant of deliverance-
No one has ever
Bothered to study
A religion such as you….
And maybe I can fill myself,
Go home
And feel whole
The next day,
Body
Like a live wire
In the wake
Of a
Hurricane
That blew,
Fiercely,
Through the night-
We are only in the eye
And I can be your
Sleeping Beauty
In the sunlight-
But I've tried
Happily Ever After
And if you can climb
Past my magic defenses,
Of roses and walls
So tall a giant
Could not scale them
Then I will knight you
And make you my
Queen…
But like a fairytale
I don't last
Forever
And only Disney
Managed to make my
Story
Look pretty-
Let's remember
This all started
With
Whispered discoveries-
Teeth on your neck,
Warm breath
And the kind of heat
Only another body
Could create.