At birth, you opened your door wide,
My homeland – my golden cradle, my pride.
You give my spirit wings to soar,
How can I sing your praises more?
Your soft embrace, like a fluffy bed,
May my nation grow, may it be widespread!
In your embrace, I feel so free,
Living a life of blissful glee.
Every day spent within your grace,
My happiness, my treasure, my place!
As long as you thrive, my dear land,
My honor stands tall, like a mighty hand!
Mountains of my life
never forgotten.
Rivers of my veins
flowing through my memories.
Green Swiss valleys,
far from my sight,
but always close to my heart.
My Alps where I was born,
bring to me the fresh air
to breath again.
I remember those summer days,
with my feet
into the shore waters
of the Rhine river,
or the long walks across
the charming countryside.
Oh, bohemian Basel...!
my birthplace.
Oh, my lovely Switzerland...!
you will always be my first steps,
my unforgettable dream,
a treasure in my mind...!
Corpus Christi in the southern region of the United States
Named by a Spanish explorer, Alonso Álvarez de Pineda, and mates.
As he discovered the lush semitropical bay, an American city
on the Western Texas coast; Christian feast day of Corpus Christi.
The city’s name means, body of Christ; a place of my birth,
A coastal city in the biggest state of Texas on this earth.
Corpus Christi of North America, is known as the "Bird Capital,"
A city that has a humid subtropical climate, to some very unvital.
North America a country of the free and the brave;
Fifty states surrounded by an ocean coastal waves that voices rave.
Beaches almost paradise that brings joy, semblance of normalcy;
Just feels like one can breathe from all the abnormalcy.
In time for a very hot, very immunized summer rhythm,
Oceanside of much-needed thrilling escapism.
With cold drinks, toes scrunch in the sand;
In a beach day with a lot of laughter and getting tanned.
5/31/2023
'Glorifying your birthplace/country through poetry
If Your Birthplace-country was a poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Like a poem is my birthplace - so dear!
The rhythm of it is the constant flow
of the Mississippi, which is so near
the town where I grew up. And row by row
are stalks of corn leaning in fields of green.
They are my homeland’s reason and its rhyme.
A sight more beautiful I’ve never seen
than verdant rolling hills of summertime.
Roll on, dear hills, beneath a sun that beams.
Roll on, mighty river, and fields of corn.
Iowa, I picture you in my dreams,
for far from you I live now and forlorn,
Oh, your shining rainbows again to see!
Iowa, my sonnet you’ll always be.
May 29, 2023
for If Your Birthplace-Country Was A Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Uvira my birthplace
A small town of Democratic
Republic
of the Congo
Which is at the boundaries
of the lake Tanganyika
In Southern Kivu province.
A place
Where many rebellions
started because
of many borders
with other countries.
Uvira my birthplace,
I see many rivers
And long chains of mountains
called Mitumba.
I see the second Congolese
Seaport interm of income which
connect DRCongo with
Burundi , Tanzania
And Zambia.
Uvira my birthplace,
The birthplace of many Bavira
Bashi ,Bafuliru,
Babembe Banyindu,
And Barega people.
A beautiful place
With multi - cultural and
linguistic people
Who relay on businesses,
Agriculture,
Small farming
And fishing.
Oh! Nice view ,
Weather , fauna
And flora.
I always dream about
This small town,
My beautiful Birthplace,
I love so much Uvira.
May 25/2023
Written for poetry contest sponsored by
Anoucheka Gangabissoon
The brook babbles
and rambles
over the rocks,
tumbling down
past the cabin
among the trees
at the foot
of the protecting mountain. Under the watchful eye
of deer
and bear
and chipmunk.
In the intimacy of bedroom
the first desperate cry
of the newborn rises.
Searching with foggy eye exclaiming existence
pondering purpose.
Unaware
the gift of life
paid for
by the giftee
in moment installments.
In far flung decades
returning to birthplace
facing the final portal.
Often greatness comes from humble roots
Where none-expected talents lay hidden
Beneath veneers of undeveloped yearning,
Hiding like gemstones in hard rough slate
Until the master discovers facets that glisten.
written January 1, 2020
[while visiting the birthplace of
Elvis Presley in Tupelo, Mississippi]
Entered "Bite Size Poetry No. 32" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
Oh nostalgia you will never sleep as a poem now gently breached.
© Harry J Horsman 2020
at a farmhouse of West Hill, NY
drizzling or the flowing breeze
little a bit far
a butterfly and a moth
busy in gossiping on the lilac,
busy in gossiping on the hibiscus
on the ground a withered leaf
ants walk on it as if write something
robin flies and tweets for a souvenir
stranger comes and goes with pen, white paper
it's an ordinary palace
palace of writings for all
great to small, short to tall
it's a place, birthplace
where live world literature grace
-June 13, 2019 Chattogram
The most beautiful birthplace? Why, Donegal of course.
Having travelled the world, I have no remorse,
at returning home.
Summer sunshine? I go and explore.
Sea with a sheen of blue. Forty shades of green.
Forest, mountain, stream.
All alone I meander, leaving footprints in the sand.
As if I am Eve, in a magical mystical land.
Searching for Adam.
Back roads with hedgerows, brushing against my car.
Like I had gone too far. Sheep obstructing my way.
Black one in the middle.
Old local on his fiddle, at end of day, in random pub.
Lost in his repertoire. Still I am not far
from my own hearth.
I wish the peace it gives me to all in cityscapes.
Thank God I escaped, back to Ireland and
my kith and kin.
Finding love within.
Bewteen two granite stones
large enough to keep Jesus
tucked away three plus days
lies a crack so thin
it doesn't allow shadows in
though water finds its
proper place.
In winter it freezes
Summer evaporates
its every molecule
It expands in fall
Renews in spring so when roses
bloom, crimson combines
pinks and reds.
May comes. Dizzy Gillespie
plays the blues and
heavenly tunes fall from heaven
sticking to my thoughts
like ants on picnic food.
Saturated with the idea of
being love drenched,
I took my clothes off
to skinny dip but slipped
and punctured my heart
supplying a stream
with flow.
When it rains is when God finds time
to remind me of life saving lines.
Forever combines, if only in the moments
when sun doesn't shine
and I stand in rain
shouting against the wind.
At the core of my foundation,
a woman's tears were at the heart of
my formation.
Even granite, must yield to this.
Water milk warm
Honey sand so light
The breeze so soothing
Misty air sunshine filled
And your smile is more than just sweet
I am with myself
With seagulls near me
Lost sailors whispering
The sound of waves very calming
And pine trees pivoting in the sea
An escape of a thought
In this domain of freedom
Then crushed by thunder
A rainfall forced rainbow
And this story is salty air carried
In reverence I cross the boarded floor
(This hallowed chamber I near fear to tread)
And glimpse the ancient manger, oaken carved
Wherein John Shakespeare’s babe once laid his head.
I see the boy within these timber halls
As time peels back the heavy veil of years,
At play through laughing innocence unbound
Life’s lessons learned, both happiness and tears.
Oh Bard! Were you most Arden from the first?
How formed your mind, what influence this space?
How much your father’s son, or was it more
This genius inspired by God’s own grace?
Did you from cradle call with infant tongue,
Not yet apprenticed to fair England’s speech,
In verse that you alone could comprehend
Prince Hal’s sweet cry; “Once more unto the breach”?
More worthy men have passed this aged frame,
Yet now I ask in truth who would deny
That Keats and Dickens stood and stared in awe …
Though pondered thoughts far more profound than I?
Storms are brazen, often rude,
Lighting the sky with invectives
Of white-blue light terrible.
The rains carp the submissive
Ground wearing it so slowly
Down into curves, mud.
The thunder stomps through
Heaven’s empty rooms above.
It knows the children tremble
Beneath, conjuring punishments
Through tall silken crowns
Where venomous rodents erupt.
In boredom, the storm sulks
Away.
In time,
The rodents and children trade places.