Aunt Marjorie gave me a snowman brooch for Christmas
I was beyond proud of it
wore it everywhere for a week
until I lost it in the snow
I've been replaced by a lap dog~at least it's cute,
Its poppy brooch glows bright on its dainty neck.
It yaps and leaps, and like me, its poops pollute,
But could it endure a long and rugged trek?
I’d wager it’d fail~a weary, broken wreck.
the brooch is the sugar maple shape of Canada's national tree
created by the jeweler Aspry &Co
with many dazzling brilliant cut diamonds
inherited by Queen Elizabeth 11 in 2002 from her mother
and she loved it . . . wearing it often high on her right shoulder
I saw Queen Elizabeth 11 in the 2010 Canada Day Celebration
as clouds sailed across the sky . . . she was a picture of serenity
with the maple brooch pinned on a beautiful red ensemble
and my eyes swelled with a sea of tears
I am so proud that this symbol of Canada brooch has become part of
the Royal Collection . . . though it is not an antique yet
it will be one day in the future and will be passed down to royal women
for the the drums of time will always roll through history
forever, and ever until the end of time
__________________
September 14, 2022
Poetry/Free Verse/maple leaf brooch
Copyright Protected, ID 09-1487-178-14
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Night exhales a humble ember
As a chorus frog whispers to the tulip bulb,
"It's time to come out now.
Earth is weeping emeralds.
It's time to come out now...
To pin a pink brooch to the shadow."
Most of the time, flowers will suffice.
Those gentlest of ambassadors.
Dispatched to disarm the caustic ego.
Trim burrs from misunderstandings.
Temper the burn of good intention gone awry...
To most, they whisper of peace and love.
They're a brooch to the breast of forgiveness.
Conflict and Confusion often arise.
When the blossom stompers arrive...
A brute cannot comprehend the language of flowers.
These are the times when powder must flash.
Bullets must strip the copper from its silence...
Blood must get the attention of the icy rain.
To glean a grain of humble from the ogre-hearted.
Whose every breath wishes to singe the garden.
With a Big Brooch
Who should fro President try to run?
Who won't surprise us and try to stun
Us into believing you are the best
We will love forever and never detest.
To me, this may become quite a chore
Trying to be someone you do adore
At moment's notice to occasion arise
Forget about being a pack of lies.
Much can be said about great appearance
Apply self and rules comply to adherence
Attempting and trying a casual approach
But woman for President with a big brooch?
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
~
handed down to me
eighteen caret with gold leaf
Grandmother’s bequest
~
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.