Upon the meadow where you were born,
I make a vow to stay by your side,
And though my heart in anguish is torn,
Tear-filled eyes remember our last ride.
You breathe hard as you lay in the grass.
Your heart beats like the thunder of earth.
In its own time, life will let you pass
To look for the mare who gave you birth.
Reins are hung on a hook in the byrne.
Your stall is empty. It leaves me forlorn.
I, the pupil, from your strength did learn
The joy of life the day you were born.
Your body once hot, now becomes cold.
The sun fades as the clouds become thicker.
Good-bye, my friend. Our rides made us bold.
Just nicker once more, softly nicker
....softly nicker...
I saw a heart on a Large pink to scarlet web-footed wading bird with down-bent bill,
The heart was pink and so very hard to see, but I knew it was there,
Because it was in my little Minnie’s smile.
Her favorite long sleeved shirts have hearts on them,
Underneath she wears a short-sleeved cotton one; for comfort,
Today's undershirt had the wading bird on it!
4 years old, happy with her
Heart and Flamingo and Playful smile.
©david byrne Jan 2021
Former Mayor of Chicago, Ms. Jayne Byrne
about mood swings and temper tantrums had what to learn
To differentiate her from the Panama Canal
Ask yourself which
~ One of them was a busy ditch
Dandelion blown
Wishing delusional dreams
Floating in the sky
Vanishing seeds as thin air
Returning reality
For Blowing In The Wind Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Nicola Byrne
Fourth Place
August 25, 2017
Deep in the harbor it's rowing our boat,
does it have the map to where we float?
Far in the woodland it's singing our song,
why didn't it follow us, to come along?
Up by the farm it's buzzing the cornfields,
hope it knows not to blow away the yields.
In open land, it's spinning the windmills,
people on the hill are happy with its skills.
What just caused the sun to blush,
and why did he wave goodbye in a rush?
Is it about the kiss, that the wind blew apart,
instead of landing directly in your heart?
Or about butterflies humming with pollen,
playing cupid to pollinate buds swollen?
Why did the twilight fade so soon,
is it time already to welcome the moon?
Did wind shrill about our romantic dance?
I saw the moon winking in a glance.
Is there a message hidden in their wings?
I hope to find out with a beautiful ring.
August 22, 2017
Placed 4th:Blowing in the Wind contest by Nicola Byrne
HM: Your choice (9) contest by Brian Strand
When I Die
Not a chance
I’ll say that
I should have spent
more time housecleaning
But I know I will say...
I should have listened more
To those voices deep within
What my soul wanted to explore
What my heart wanted to conquer
What my inner child wanted to do
I should have taken the time to
Sketch and doodle more
Paint more canvases with vibrant colours
Smile up at each blue sky
Allow gusts of wind to mess up my hair
Step out in each rain storm
Greet each flower that bloomed on my path
Listen to the chirping of wild birds
Pet each dog that looked up at me with eager eyes
Hug each friend that had a hard day
Take longer candlelit baths
Laugh at more silly jokes
I know I’ll wish
I had held your hand more often
Held you in my arms longer
Hugged you much more
Found more ways to say I love you
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on August 20, 2017 for contest BLOWING IN THE WIND sponsored by NICOLA BYRNE - RANKED 4TH
PS featured in 2018
As the wind howls the parasitic perpetrator prowls
And children’s dreams are left blowing in the wind
As the wind storms the barbarous battle swarms
And the countless screams are blowing in the wind
As the wind scatters many a humble heart shatters
And the vaporous voices are left blowing in the wind
As the wind calamity chills the harmful hatred spills
And the evil rejoices while left blowing in the wind
As the wind torments a silent sinner or two repents
For remorse and holiness are left blowing in the wind
As the wind approaches a slaving solitude encroaches
And the leering loneliness is left blowing in the wind
As the wind cries through lamenting darkened skies
The anguish accumulates and left blowing in the wind
As the wind wanders a man on the hermitic hill ponders
He patiently waits for love to blow in the winding wind.
Aug.20.2017
Blowing in the Wind
Sponsored by: Nicola Byrne
I was born on the plains in nineteen ten.
Farming was good and we worked oh so hard.
Daddy took me out on the porch and then
He'd say,"This will be your farm, little pard."
He taught me the crops - oats and wheat and corn -
How to drive the old tractor straight and true.
I belonged to this land where I was born,
And my daddy said,"This belongs to you."
When I was a young man rain ceased to fall.
Try as we might the sun shone without end,
And dust rose high to cast a deathly pall -
"My son, your farm is blowing in the wind".
And so the "dust bowl" touched us all it seems.
Blowing in the wind were my hopes and dreams.
8/19/17
For contest Blowing in the Wind for Nicola Byrne
You whine and whistle, ghostlike, when you round
the corner of my cottage in the cove.
You sweetly soothe or taunt and terrify.
No one on Earth dictates where you will rove.
A menacing marauder or a mild,
melodious, mysterious delight,
you play your part in nature to the hilt--
just heard and felt, not subject to man's sight.
June 23, 2017, placed first in Brian Strand's Mid-Summer Premiere Contest
Date: August 19, 2017
Contest Name: Blowing in the Wind
Sponsor: Nicola Byrne
January 26, 2019, entered on Mark Toney's Poetry Marathon, Mile 13
February 18, 2020, entered in the Strand Select T contest
Ever flying, never ceasing, ever soaring, speed increasing,
Two sharp scythes by your side,
Leaving land behind
Journeying over land and sea,
Flying high, flying free,
Super speed, velocity,
Hawking prey incredibly.
In the air you make a rift,
With your pointed scythe-like wings
Ever moving sinuously swift,
In the air you are the king.
In your flocks at dusk you're screaming,
Rapidly whirling, whooshing, streaming,
To fly is your life's only meaning,
Swiftly whooshing, whirling, screaming.
By Sean Martin-Byrne
~Fragrance of clear mist swathes the bouncing air,
Dizzy where jasmines and blossoms unfurl
That serenity ripples everywhere,
And gulls hover above a wavelet's curl:
Through morning sail into pastoral bliss
Orchards flaunt their Riviera attire,
While an islet lies warm as sunset's kiss
Till birdsong drools in rhythm of a choir.
Glow of evening sparks its luminous eyes--
When bathing of pasture ends, to rest
Afloat my dream island how this breath sighs
For her verdant trees, her water dance fest.
Lovely isle beneath a tropical moon
Enticing my roam like a ballad’s tune ~
``````````````
3/14/2017 Where I Want To Go
Contest of Nicola Byrne
Rhymes checked at ryhmezone.com
Syllables verified at howmanysyllables.com
MY DREAMLAND
I wish to sit beside the River Nile.
My earnest desire to visit
Sphinx, Pyramid in fantastic style.
Eagerly waiting to go to Egypt.
Sunny Sahara usually sent sandy storm.
Arid drought followed by flood
of the Nile made Egypt fertile: Normal form.
Clever Cleopatra with bubbling blood.
Earliest ebullient civilization,
in Egypt flourished fabulous.
The first and foremost Human Nation,
Land of Mummy, miraculous.
Egypt: My dream, my fantasy.
Ancient Architecture: Classy.
03/10/17
Where I Want To Go Contest by Nicola Byrne
Fifth Place
Under the Sea (English Sonnet)
I’d like to go beneath the sea
exploring wonders down below
where fish and creatures dwell for free
and undeterred the currents flow.
A submarine like Nemo had
would serve me well to venture deep.
This would not be a passing fad
or an adventure on the cheap.
Submerged Atlantis I would seek
Poseidon, too, trident in hand;
a lingua franca we could speak
for Greek is hard to understand!
I’d like to go beneath the sea
then share with you its mystery.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
An English sonnet follows the pattern 'abab cdcd efef gg'.
Every line should be ten syllables long, but in this case an
exception has been made, thus 8 syllables are being used.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest: Where I Want to Go
Sponsor: Nicola Byrne
Placed 2nd
© 3rd March 2017
Where a moon will sit at my blue window
For I find my moon very often dead
And offers to lend me some of its snow
As easily as life provides me bread
Where rustles of whisper you lay in wind
With which I can make my daily poems
For you at the time’s edge as night declines
And dreams recede in the glow-worms like gems
Where the life perches on a little peace
Struggle for life ends in your loving gaze
In the pool your letters swim like the geese
Orange slice you gave me floats in sunrays
There I would like to be one day alone
Look there how in the wind the leaf is blown
______________________________________________
27/02/2017 /Where I Want To Go /Sponsor: Nicola Byrne
Saturn's rings appeal to me,
I'd give them a try.
Get myself a rocket ship
And hurtle through the sky.
Travelling at the speed of light
It wouldn't take a day,
As I looked in awe at countless stars
That grace the milky way.
When I pass Mars and Jupiter,
It's Saturn straight ahead.
I'll soon be spinning on the rings
If only in my head.
I often dream of a wonderful, galactic destination
I can travel anywhere, using my imagination.
Written for the Where I want to go poetry contest
Sponsored by: Nicola Byrne 23/2/2017
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