Long Asking(a) Poems
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When he died, no one told me,
why would they, I had not seen him in years?
Yet that day, he kept walking in and out
of my mind’s eye.
I wondered why?
“The world ends at 5 O’clock.,"
his voice rang in my ears.
Two tortured Nostradamus parables
fluttered-by like migrating Hooper Cranes.
I recall looking at my watch, and seeing only
the sun turning around a scarab beetle.
I remember asking a running man
how he was timing his race? The runner was
too busy counting to answer.
His words scurried through my head
like white mice. I wondered why?
Then I thought of the nursery rhyme,
and the farmer’s wife and her carving knife;
the blind mice running.
My stone house was ticking like a Mayan calendar.
My chair rocking back and forth like a metronome.
That evening he left my mind empty
even his face was just a clock
in a Salvador Dali painting.
Of course, I never knew he was dead,
I just heard what he said -
and I wondered why?
Many years ago I bought a laptop.
It's so outdated, I call it a craptop.
I want to sell it but nobody wants it because it's eighteen years old.
I'm asking a quarter for it at my yard sale but it still hasn't been sold.
When I sold a rod and reel, I offered to throw in the laptop for free.
But the guy told me to shove it up my ass because it only has 2 Megabytes of Memory.
If it was a person, it would be old enough to get married, vote and smoke.
This prehistoric thing doesn't even have a CD-Rom Drive and that's no joke.
This thing is so frustrating, it takes twenty minutes for it to get on Ebay.
Nobody wants this damn thing, the garbage men won't even take it away.
If you want to buy my laptop, I'll sell it to you for a nickel.
I can tell that you don't want it either, I sure am in a pickle.
(This is a fictional poem)
Needful
Stuff,
I need it here and there,
and everywhere.
It makes me feel safe,
and warm like an animal in a hole.
The reality is,
none of "it" is important.
It can not be eaten when one is...
hungry.
An extra coat for some,
is the difference between a good night...
and freezing.
New socks for others,
is an extravagance to those without.
Knowing that there is someone to call...
when the officer tells you he needs a name,
is profound.
A man in a wheel chair,
his shoe ajar...
asking a stranger to fix it.
His own body - a prison of stillness.
How can anyone,
just walk by,
like there are no clouds,
in the sky?
Three children,
no man in the house,
where is the breadwinner
the mouse?
Mothers left alone...
to hear the screams,
of their crying babies.
At the red door,
there is knocking,
desperate pounding...
all "time" is gone.
I held you in my blood
Long before my womb was home
I endured the sentence of "barren"
Among blessed mothers...alone
When proof was in place
I rejoiced with those who jeered
Finally, when you arrived
I endured entitled cheers
As you grew into self
And I surrounded you in loving ground
I endured advice givers
Admonishing me to be a "saner" sound
When you came through trials
Adults have failed to clear
I endured judgment
Formed from their deepest fears
............of faliure
When we rose up out of darkness
To live in a daunting day
Relationships were renewed and strained
As we endured the circumstances trying to play
.........outiside of boundaries
Separation, desperation
I decided NOT to cry
No matter what I endured
I refused to ask the "unanswerable" WHY!!!
You came back to me
Of your own accord
I rejoiced and settled in
To providing the "Poor" I could afford
I poured forth love
Never asking a thing in return
Knowing compassion would train
What could never be earned
Now....you are gone
Making a life you want to live
I, as a person, am not in it
But I am in everything you give
So, if you give your life to another
And I am, and will always be, just your mother
I can rest in knowing
Love is alive and forever growing
....in you...
Written by Trudy Schrader on 10-25-2020
Knowing me as only I could
and knowing this disjointed year that has been so wasted.
Kicking myself at every turn,
over and over again, so many mistakes I've made with
raw emotions bleeding every moment of every day.
Reaching for the happiness that I know is out there,
how I long for peace inside of me,
all the while knowing that it will never come.
Praying for release from this insane fear that forever
holds me in its selfish, controlling grasp,
I can't do this anymore!
Only tomorrow's promise keeps me going,
preparing me to meet the challenge of my next disappointment.
Having failed at all I've done my hope yet lingers.
Offering my soul as payment for each dark hour I bare
but knowing the light comes sparingly, asking a toll for each ray,
I know I must fail so I hesitate to begin,
and the cycle continues as the world turns.
01/12/16
I have a fond memory
of days spent on grandpa's farm
and helping grandma
early in the morning we collected eggs
and fed the chickens and other littles
grandpa fed the cows, horses, pigs,
and a donkey and all the bigs
there was a rooster that liked to chase me
and the donkey made the loudest noises
that I had to cover my ears
later, in the morning I helped grandma
in her vegetable garden
we picked vegetables for lunch and supper
how grand that seemed to me
no grocery store just pick it from your garden
and in the afternoon I followed grandpa
as he did his chores asking a thousand questions
often, he would burst out laughing
the most wonderful thing happened
he gave me a pony just new born
and then, it was over as grandpa was
called to Heaven suddenly one day
I stayed with grandma as she mourned
I would stroke her hair
and kiss her cheek and I cried with her
she had to sell the farm
and find homes for all the animals
even my precious pony went to a new home
and I was allowed to visit him
but he was happy and so I let him go
and that part of my life was over
though the memory I will keep
_________________
September 19, 2021
Poetry/Free Verse/Lovely Memory Of The Farm
Copyright Protected, ID 09-1389-835-19
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, A Lovely Memory
sponsor, Regina McIntosh, Judged 09/26/2021
Second Place
Find xanthium' squeeze in a sigh
asking a righteous void, hear my entreat
hand to heart, in a beggar's sky
not just for myself,
not just for why...
Can a heart devoid of hope
seek to find salvation
from a Quentin Tarantino film
in a strange pulp voice
that sounded just like mine.
Your sin, my sins
vowed never relent..
nor let cementing cold take you
so don't despair..
Place two fingers, just beside your neck
feel it pulse?
it's you,
and you still care.
Search the world's underbelly
the meek and mild
little mouse infirm, the whooping crane strong, all us
no longer beguiled.
Roaming streets and back alleys
afraid to meet my neighbor's eye
I, the guilty
waiting a just reply.
It's a quarter past two,
last train leaves at three..
the sign at the platform's final end
stands glaring,
waiting a reprieve.
A proud primping Whooping crane calls out
'it's justice'..
All a lowly titmouse discerns,
'it's just us'.
Pastor or Pope who can they be?
Ordinary people with testimonies!
They are no more better than you.
Disobey God just like we do.
In Isaiah 54:13 God say's "I'll Teach!"
How he helped them should be all they preach!
Ask most of them to do it without asking a dime.
And you'll see how few would waste their time.
Profiting while Jesus paid the cost.
Abused and tortured for us on that cross.
Fat lifestyles for preachers and their families.
As they shout to the pews, "Bring Your Tithes to me!"
How soon most of them do forget.
They were like us and their life was a wreck.
Churches should be a place of gathering.
Where all can go and praise Heaven's King!
A place where doubters can see.
If he did it for them, He can do it for me!
Preaching about riches is just pressing the flesh.
The God who I've walked with is not part of that mess!
His word encourages me to find others to love.
And point to the lost, that help comes from above.
Sure, money is needed to meet our basic need.
But sermons about wealth is nothing but greed!
I've served trays in hospitals to rich and poor.
It was those who loved others that were blessed more.
Revelation 20:12 says at our setting sun.
"We All Will Be Judged By What We Have Done!"
Picking a rose in a garden of Sundays
Calling your name on a broken branch wind
Looking for clover where weeds are not welcome
Walking the bridge till its time to begin
Dancing in puddles now filled up with laughter
Running through traffic as cars speed away
Searching for words in the headlines of morning
Writing of moons and the stars on display
Collecting my thoughts when I think I will never
Painting a smile on a rusted front door
Lifting a rock just to see what is under
Shopping for clothes in a grocery store
Looking through openings cut in the carpet
Reaching atop lonely sycamore trees
Juggling penguins, now where did that come from
Asking a bird what it knows about bees
Planting a bush in the depths of the ocean
Baking a cake in a rooftop design
Sweating the small when the big stuff does happen
Thinking of beer when I’d rather have wine
Wearing a frown in the moments I’m happy
Pushing a cart with a wobbly wheel
Lurking in shadows that form on the sunset
Dreaming of things that are hopefully real
Finding that all I have written is nonsense
All of the verses above will now show
When all I wanted to say was I love you
Like in these stanzas I’ve written below
Penning a poem to say what I’m feeling
Wishing the phrases will reach to your heart
Sending you hints of my steadfast devotion
Scribbling fonts that we never shall part
All that I am is now all that you make me
There is no one that this man could love more
You are the girl that I’ve wanted forever
Eternally you’ll be the one I adore
So there you have it, quite crazy but true
Poetic ramblings from deep in my mind
Where it is light with some dark in the corners
There is no telling the things you might find
11/03/19
The reason I think this poem is Trophy Worthy is it is one of my favorite poems, because it is me. A good amount of fun and nonsense and a lot of beautiful love which is what fuels my pen. I believe my cadence and rhymes are very good and it was a fun poem to write. I think those who read it really enjoyed it because it made them smile and that is usually my goal when writing poetry.
I see cherries, oranges, and plums on this machine.
Getting a row of any of them would make a scene.
This is just a contraption with buttons and a screen.
All throughout today, this machine has been very mean.
Outside, the summertime has been warm, sunny, and clear.
Inside this smoky casino, I must persevere.
Like a fool, I’m pumping money into this thing here.
I will take anything that will come four in a row.
If and when the big prize will come, I will never know.
I’m aware consecutive bars are asking a lot.
Getting four in a row, and I have earned a jackpot.
Please be sweet enough to let it all happen to me.
Bells will ring, lights will flash, and I will be quite happy.
Let it not be just a pipe dream, but reality.
Only a lot of “fruit salad” has been all I see.