Best Visiting Poems
Mum has been in a care home since dad died . I try to see her every day except when I’m unwell or on holiday. My dad gave my sister cash for 'travel' but she's never visited and for the last 2 years not sent birthday or mother’s day cards or rings her, so my visits are very precious to my mum.
When I visit my mum I take:-
One loving heart
Two arms to embrace her
Three ideas for memory games
Four funny poems to read to her
Five pounds if her wallet is getting low
Open ears ready to listen ...
Self control for when she is incorrect!
Tissues for tears of laughter not sadness
Willing hands when she needs help toileting
Patience for when she repeats herself
Writing Challenge 3, July 2019 - List - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Hear
3/8/19
A furry little caterpillar
Crawled onto my knee
He turned into a butterfly
And landed in a tree
Beside him was a humming bird
Sucking pollen from a rose
When down fell an inchworm
That landed on my nose
A little baby bunny rabbit
Hopped onto my lap
When I started petting him
His ears began to flap
I came across a rooster
Sitting on a fence
A sign said "you can pet him
For only fifty cents"
As I peeked into a sty
I heard a great big thud
I saw the three little piggy's
Rolling in the mud
I looked up in the sky
And I saw a lonesome goose
I whistled "where are you flying to"
He replied. "to visit Dr. Seuss
We met a few years ago, then suddenly you were gone
We danced the very last dance to our favourite song
Happenings in our lives took control of our tomorrows
That evening when you walked away, filled my heart with sorrow
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When I heard the telephone ring, I answered and you were there
And we spoke of the past few years, these years we could have shared
The time flew by when we talked, sharing our pasts to date
When you said you'd like to meet up again, my heart just couldn't wait
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When I picked you up from the Airport, you hadn't changed at all
Six foot plus with sky blue eyes, still leaving me enthralled
We settled into our night for tomorrows journey we'll make
To a rented cottage so idyllically set, down by the lake
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The morning came so fast as we set of on our trip
Again going over the years, picturing like a movie clip
Our destination now reached, refreshed we head for a meal
At a restaurant overlooking the lake, our pasts begin to seal
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Back to the cottage we go, as you gently take my hand
So dreamy under the full moon, is this what fate had planned
You play our favourite song, the one we danced to so long ago
As you take me in your arms, something in me flows
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
We look into each others eyes as you ruffle my long blond hair
I see desire looking back from your manly sky blue stare
Slowly we discard our clothes as you lay me on the bed
Adventurous discovering hands declare our minds well read
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Our passion resonates, excitement fills the air
Years of catching up in delightful bodily share
We awaken in the morning, spooned within my reach
Our love has been reborn, re-found visiting Qualicum Beach
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-15.php
I was visiting the willow tree when I heard
your sweet voice call out to me with flair,
But the honeysuckle's aroma was so delightful
that it left me feeling for your call, without
care.
Let me visit the water's edge and speak
to the trees, for I am a part of nature even though
I am not dressed in forest leaves.
Let the birds sing amply and quite the loud voices
that empty me.
Along the path I want to walk and feel release,
the beauty of what nature has not lost, peace.
Here I will linger and visit still, because
I need it's ever loving heal.
Loving you is a blessing in this life but being
alone with nature, is also so very nice.
I was visiting the willow tree.
I wish heaven had visiting hours
I'd carry a beer or two
And some meat to go
Cause I know my grandpa's would love that
I'd seat with them and let them just talk
For I'd love to hear how they were
For to me they were but stories
Cause I never got to see them, long gone before I was born
I'd want them to see how I've grown
To let them see that the lineage keeps on
And how the beautiful family tree
Is fruitful, we've got kids to mark each season
I'd tell them of how things are looking up for us
Cause they up here looking out on us
For we've never lacked even though they're gone
They both gave us strong grandma's
I'd let them know how grandma keeps waiting
Seating next to their favourite chair
Leaving his chair facing her
She sleeps saying a prayer to him every night
I wish heaven had visiting hours
So that I'd get to bond with my grandpa's
Cause I was named after one
And my big bro was named after the other
The PO£T
You didn't shake
as much in
the psych ward,
possibly because
of the medication.
A cocktail of
paxil, seroquel,
lithium and sedatives.
The white walls
dimmed your
pale complexion.
The pink rosed
paintings on the
wall reflected
the first bit
of color returning
to your peaked
gaunt cheeks, and
big sad eyes.
You'd get so angry,
trying to hold back
cries...stressed
from all the secrets
of your condition that
the uniforms and
clipboards kept
from you.
We'd walk the
circular hallway.
My black work loafers
and your socks
circumfrencing the
middle ground of
sanity.
We'd hold eachother
in the corner, under
the light wood
safety rail.
You, propped up
against the wall.
Me..pressed againt
your chest.
You'd envelope
me with your
long arms and
whisper in my ear
between your tears
that this...
couldn't last forever.
I finally got my most exuberant, elaborate wish
To talk to the poet who immortalized red and blue fish,
The maestro who made a living from books of green eggs and ham,
A man who made the Star Belly Sneetches great, good, and quite glam.
Of course I am talking about the poet who put a fox in socks,
A writer who had the foresight to take the Lorax out of a box,
A poet who did not hesitate to make up words that sound funny
A poet who made poetry happy and glad, and still brought in money.
I read his poetry to my children, and I laugh, and I giggle.
The animals, and machines, and the way his words made us sniggle.
Thing One and Thing Two, I wish they had come to my house!
He made startling creatures real, that madman that louse!
His poetry was shiny, and cutesy, and fabulifically slick.
He did it quite casually, but it was extibubally mighty and quick!
It entered our hearts, goosed us gorabolically, and it tickled our brains.
It turned us into adventurers, some pretty diatotally insane.
He whipped our imaginations in a mighty whirlpool of joy.
He slathered us with enjoyment, his books were our catatalifcator toy.
No matter how many books mom read us on a Saturday night.
Until she got to Dr. Seuss, nothing quite felt totalboxilly all right.
Written July 26, 2018
Contest: Add a Stanza to My Poem Poetry Contest
Contest Sponsor: Charles Messina
A furry little caterpillar
Crawled onto my knee
He turned into a butterfly
And landed in a tree
Beside him was a humming bird
Sucking pollen from a rose
When down fell an inchworm
That landed on my nose
A little baby bunny rabbit
Hopped onto my lap
When I started petting him
His ears began to flap
‘Did someone knock?’ a voice enquired *
And when I looked around
Two bleary eyes and long pink snout
Popped up from underground.
I came across a rooster
Sitting on a fence
A sign said "you can pet him
For only fifty cents"
As I peeked into a sty
I heard a great big thud
I saw the three little piggy's
Rolling in the mud
I looked up in the sky
And I saw a lonesome goose
I whistled "where are you flying to"
He replied. "to visit Dr. Seuss
* - my addition for the contest - bold print fails to transfer
24/07/18
Lit up snowmen on the lawn
In weather warm and sunny;
Dolphin Santa in a sleigh
Flamingo-drawn, so funny!
Christmas decorations change
Depending on location
And likely, there'll be many forms
Of festive celebration.
No matter where you choose to be
As holidays draw nearer,
The universal need for joy
This season gets much clearer.
Most local folk lore is intended to unnerve but
I think there's validity to the Haunted horse shoe curve.
The building of our nations rails took a terrible toll
on the Irish, the Chinese, and many other souls..
This was once a very thriving railroad town,
now the population dwindles yet some ghosts
still stick around..
Three years ago I bought my condo in a bit of haste.
I never asked my realtor for a ghost reading of the place..
It's a building designed for seniors so obviously some passed on.
Apparently there's one who is not completely gone,
it's small like a child, might be a leprechaun?
This is factual and not some kind of joke,
in our non-smoking building there's a faint cigar smoke.
Drawers and doors will open where there's no other folks.
Some times out of the corner of one eye, a shorter fleeting
person quickly passes by..
Similar experiences have been reported from coast to coast but are
they actually signs of a visiting ghost?
Initially I read up on ghosts and did a bit of learning,
promptly I bought some sage and had my first burning..
Now I just play tambourines and ring a loud bells to chase
away any stuck energy that dwells.
Living with this ghost has not been a big deal.
Some times I just interrupt it's energy field..
If per chance I should get stuck before I'm safe and heavenly.
I pray that some one out there will do the same for me..
Evening enchantress, she carefully selects
The most exquisite place in the sky to repose.
A marvel is our Luna, inspiring
Silver poetry, tides, and young forbidden love.
Delicately pretending to not watch
At the same time, missing nothing
Stirring imaginations, inspiring music and song.
Tempting the super controlled to be more brazen.
Inciting riots and applauding unfamiliar
Maniacal behavior in her full of herself state.
Evening enchantress, never going lightly
Especially when she is full.
Magic evening enchantress, revered by all.
Showing her face, and her wiles.
Sharing whispers with hoot owls and wolves.
Visiting nightly, outside windows of dreamers.
Written 3-08-19
Contest: Liquid Luna Lace
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Taking Off!
Some time passing, wondering
about my invisibility,
apart from my so very demanding physicality...
From birth, as my mother reported,
I wanted smiles,
screamed for them,
made other’s cheeks sore giving them...
Then learning I could cause them, create them,
with my own being,
making and doing, living
into the happy, hopeful, surviving part of the room...
that is greatly all THEY want from me,
more than my poems or drawings...
Sally, that is all that is wanted:
YOU TO BE THERE!
You are yourself loved
as a small, twinkling star
that somehow stays within hearts
or rooms, able to be held, visible, alive,
more than what I create,
which is what means my life to me...
for which I hunger the approval
...but it is I, the small, embraceable star...
as we are each of us...for a time
visiting our earthly haunts
with our being’s twinkling love,
to the hearts who pause to see.
———————————————————
(C) sally young Eslinger 3/2021
I heard a knock-knocking on the door.
It was my childhood self, visiting my adult life.
What had I achieved? it asked,
and where had I been?
Was pay equal yet? it wanted to know,
is heaven still a dream?
Heaven, it pondered, is it here on earth
in butterfly wings and melting snow?
It is spiralling in Dante’s nine circles, loved by Venus,
or simply in the cry of a new-born?
Heaven, it mused, is it above us in the air,
exploding in stardust, travelling like light to an eye?
Is it cradled between fingertips in a Vatican chapel,
or is it felt in pats on the back, any small success?
I looked at my childhood self,
unsure of this placed called Heaven.
Was it aflame inside a Jewish Menorah,
or walking in Jannah, a Muslim-named paradise?
Was it in beads of blood upon a crown of thorns,
or swaddled with first born sons chosen as a sacrifice?
So, with forefingers and thumbs I
made a rectangle with both hands.
“It’s in here”, I told my childhood self, “whatever
you see in this space from where you stand.”
The words of a poem,
like the notes of a song,
often fall flat, or off key.
Today, words
reached toward clouds,
floated on soft winds
with haunting notes.
The sad of honest pain
tore my heart,
sang of death,
beneath earth’s hard crust.
Yet, I saw her eyes
crinkle with laughter,
then felt her hand rest
on my arm.
The time is near.
She’ll be waiting,
with arms spread wide,
to welcome me home.
Hello disappointment
You visit me pretty often these days
Wish I could say seeing you again was an amusement
I'm hoping your coming so much is just a faze
Mr. Disappointment you’re becoming the only feelings I feel anymore
The happiness has started to fade away
I want our old life back where we were in love and a bore
Mr. Disappointment you make my life dark and gray
I miss the times where I would laugh and giggle for hours
I miss the times when I was the only one he wanted to be around
When you come around disappointment its tears and long hot showers
This love I used to feel is starting to be such a big let down
I don't want to be treated like this
I have to show him I am worth caring about
I miss our happy bliss
It's either he straighten up or finds a different route
Goodbye disappointment I want my baby’s kiss