Long Dull Poems
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Out shopping met an old friend from school
he turns to me serious looking
what are you at these days
Well says I
working for a China man
picking up crumbs
for disabled birds
Those with broken wings
who are unable to fly smiling
to warmer sunnier climates
Whoa he sounded shocked
he said what a job
What's the money like
he asked laughing out loud
I said less than peanuts
out all weathers
Barely feed a mouse
God I am glad he said
that I have bumped into you
saying you have just really cheered me up
What a man really needed
Peanuts I replied
He began laughing
saying that I was a character
really brightened up his dull day
leaving all I heard was him laughing
God as conscience is that inner voice within me,
the infinite spirit that has formed my morals;
a holy power that reminds me of my duty and scruples,
and each day I thank God for his divine lessons.
Childlike innocence has made me a prey,
for wicked people who see me as an easy target;
like a child spontaneous, trusting, a trustful fool,
but I listen to the voice within and turn away.
When I disobey the lessons I know are right,
it never ends well, I run riot, a rebel lost;
I ignore what is my moral code sometimes,
God knows I am not perfect and gently speaks.
Souls blue skies turn grey, murky and gloomy,
and my heart and soul is bleeding my essence;
but I reach out my hand to God and he holds me,
darkness turns into azure and shadows are defeated.
Betrayal by my hand is like a Judas kiss,
when I have been unfaithful to my morals of life;
I am let down in myself and will make penance,
promise God that I can be a good faithful believer.
Life's barren and bland without God on my side,
everything is empty and parched and unfruitful;
my life is dull and tedious, flat and nothing,
I need my faith, I need God to be my true me.
Until I awake to evil that seeks me always,
for the devil takes many forms so I must be aware;
vigilant, heedful, watchful with each person I meet,
it is sad that I must be on guard but this is life.
Dark desires forsake and yearnings tempt,
but I must go slowly and carefully in my actions;
be it passion or ambition, I must not surrender
my faith to feed my cravings- I must be strong.
_______________________
April 14, 2022
Poetry/Verse/The Voice Within Me
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1447-827-14
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Soul Betrayal
sponsor, Unseeking Seeker, Judged 04/24/2022
Second Place
When was it that you became different?
You were never like this before ever.
Everything you used to do; efficient.
You're so intelligent, your bonds; you sever.
I cannot believeyou changed, you're altered.
When was it that you became dofferent?
Everything you used to do; sufficient.
You've come so far, yet you have just faltered.
I do hope you see soon enough, whats happened.
For you wede blinded bg gour own selfish greed,
Your wits have been blunt and dull; less sharpened.
Since your blindness you have neve ever.been freed.
Your a sycophant, an adulator; your a grovelor.
I am just floor'd; how you've become; brownoser.
The wind cold and cutting,
The rain razor sharp,
A lonely Willow tree drips sadly on a
Bench in the park,
The sky dances with flashing lightening,
My heart pounds as nature’s power
Begins unleashing
Thunder so frightening,
Its raw beauty howling
In my ears, my spirit crying
In defiance against this squall,
And nature’s gall.
The dark black clouds dissipate, a dull cloud
Cover appears, then as suddenly strays,
To reveal a star bright sequined sky.
Earth and its wonders intoxicating,
In my minds eye, my imagination soars,
I See turquoise turtles, stripped unicorns,
Fantasy flowing,
From my veins and pores,
Such a delightful, delicate ethereal reality,
A collection of the unbelievable, which seems to
Clash with rationality.
Spring, the most most delicious, picture perfect
Season of the year,
That brings a childlike calm and nulls the mind of fear,
Reveals a magic that seems not of this world,
Let every being enjoy this buoyant feel,
When disbelief becomes believe, and clear skies
Clear one's mind and takes the wheel.
Adamant Face
My mother used to say with an adamant face, "There is a place for everything and for everything a place!”
My goodness, this house is a total disgrace"
So every Tuesday at quarter past 4:OO
each person in our family had the same chore,
to straighten the house and pick up the floor.
We all sighed, then one replied,
“Where do we put things?”
“Where do they go?”
"Where did they come from?"
"We don’t know!”
"Just put things back in their original home.
"Whatever you do, don’t let them roam"
If you don’t know what it's called,
where to put it,
or what it does,
or you can’t throw it out or know it’s name because,
it doesn’t have a match or
there is a piece detached ;
then don’t give up, just keep your chin up.
Leave nothing astray, but please be done by the end of the day"
"There is a place for everything and for everything a place" she reminded us with her adamant face.
Our cleaning began, and what did we find ?
Interesting things of every kind.
Two birthday candles from my cake years ago, rusted nail clippers that trimmed my big toe.
A broken pencil with a very dull end, and a thank you card I forgot to send.
A soy sauce packet stuck to a fork, from a take out order of moo shoo pork.
A spool of thread, the color red, when I sewed my clumsy thumb instead!
Grandpa’s glasses missing one lens
My sister’s retainer
And 2 leaky pens
A postal stamp
A bread bag clip
The top to my mother’s pink lipstick.
A germy cold lozenge when I had the flu.
A dirty lace from a tennis shoe.
Three receipts from CVS.
A zipper from an old prom dress.
Soon we finished, and one replied,
“Our cleaning is done, we picked up the floor,
No longer a disgrace anymore!"
"We put things back in their original home,
where they belonged and could not roam”
“Mother, that place was the kitchen drawer!"
Our job is done, say no more!
Of all the things upon this earth
I’d never want to be a horse
‘Cos first of all, how DO they sleep
when standing on their hooves, of course
Another creature I would shun
is lazy, smelly, weighs a ton
Flies buzz an inch from her dull eyes
You guessed a cow? ~ ‘twas no surprise
And finally, to top things off
I never want to be a chimp
I need respect, I’m not a clown
na-NA, na-NA, na-NA na-Na
So, if you smile when I sit down ~
I’ll turn my wrong end upside down
~ Iambic Tetrameter ~
Mists show vaporous idiosyncrasies
emotionless crying
over the essence of the dull sky,
same as a gentle walking unsophisticated steed
embrace a forceful nature,
delicate yet totally vulnerable
With the onset of twilight
the impiety appeared to be oddly astounding,
there was no witless snarl
and it's a smooth tone,
predawn conceals
quell the loco share of color moods,
Starlings rewind their impeccable wings,
early mooring paths for a sailboat
through wildly shifting flights,
a measurement for rating sight
for slowed down dreamers
When it got dull
fall into the stream
In a swarm of happy tones,
utterance grows softer and deeper
Grin impersonates amazing harmony
marks the epilog of a tranquil day
the gleam of the evening,
woven into an unending blanket
Inward supplications
go to close justifications
as the embedded kiss creates
everlasting recognition,
apex moans calmed the room
for a couple of moments,
underneath a shelter of trapped gems
Written: September 16, 2022
BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
War of subtleties
Terse battles
Sanctioned victories
Temporal losses
Shooting blanks
Dull blade
Cassanova's gaze
Mata Hari senses
Jagger's "Moment has passed"
Frost "Two roads diverged..."
Thunderous crash
Newborn's coos
White lies
Dark truths
A trident
A halo
Demons
Angels
Trump's hair
Hitler's mustache
Casting spells
Reading scriptures
The White House
The House of Horrors
Halls of Congress
Hall of Mirrors
The Wheels of Justice
The Ferris Wheel
Titanic's First Class
Titanic's steerage
T-Bone Steak
Garden Salad
Delicious apples
Sour lemons
Excercise
Lethargy
Tolstoy's War And Peace
A note from your teacher
... a pound's worth and not a penny more!
2019 September 12
***Song suggested by my 22-year-old granddaughter when asked for a song best represents this muse.
Going to slaughter the death like a bull felling it on ground
binding tightly its four legs, we have made our earth
full of death more.
Going to uproot the shrubs of weeds,
we have filled our life-land with more weeds.
Going to destroy the darkness with all its roots,
we have fallen down slipping into the darkest ditch.
Our wisdom is now eating our whole body
pecking at all limbs like a vulture.
All our books and idle times of our laboratories
are biting our soul and existence, raising their hoods
like a cobra.
We do not know where we have reached
running like a bull tearing its rope.
Our science and technology are pouring black heat
upon our skulls.
Our dull eyes are getting overturned again and again
like an unhappy housewife hanging herself with a ceiling fan.
Even the eyes of our heart are growing feeble and inactive
by getting fade every day.
Spitting upon all our rotten knowledge, wit, welfare and blessing,
spitting upon our democracy twinging like a septic boil
and spitting upon all our destructive inventions,
we are eagerly waiting like swallows, like the thirsty fish
of a dry pond or like the cracked fields of Summer-
if it rains!
if peace descends!
if the last white pigeon comes
flying from the distant sky-civilization out of this sky
engulfed with bombing planes,
carrying the message of peace!
The balmy breeze wafted over the prairie,
Where yellow cowslips huddled in patches.
And here and there I heard a whisper echoing:
Love her, love her, love her.
But she seemed deaf and preferred the wounded wind.
How easy it was to forget and never recapture
All my wistful whisper, I would always love you.
Those sweet nothings of past affections.
We no longer trudged the path made up for two.
Forgotten were those bygone days
When we believed that thistledown tufts
Were really friendly fairies in disguise.
Thus she escaped my clutches
And like a unicorn disappearing in an eclipse,
I headed for a dull and empty living
Blaming her uselessly for I still loved her.
Weren't we the product of our time?
We slammed the doors of love in our own faces,
Building woeful walls around us
Painting it with a tinge of misunderstanding,
When we could lead such a colorful life,
Giving our hearts a chance,
Laughing at ourselves.....
And sending a whisper,
a woeful whisper to the moon above.
Placed First