Long Gather up Poems
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Swamps are like places where dinosaurs roam
shadowed by ancient moss-draped trees.
A prehistoric world in shades of green.
I paddle my pirogue through algae foam.
Around me it's taciturn and serene
as I collect for whittling, cypress knees.
Fishermen, hunters, and I call it home.
Nature's garden profuse with wildflowers;
cattails and swamp iris in brown and blue.
An alligator, inert near the banks.
I sit and gaze at the beauty for hours.
For my primitive domain, I give thanks -
for the bass I caught, simmering in stew,
and for herbs I use for healing powers.
In the swamp, it's as if time has stood still.
Under lily pads there lurks big bullfrogs
hiding from herons and the egret.
I can hear them calling out their trill.
Time in my cabin I never regret.
Life is peaceful in these foggy bogs.
I ready myself for night's misty chill.
Sinister snakes slither in shallow brine
and cling to low branches overhead,
trying to catch the last ray of sun.
I descry them while checking my line
then gather up moss, and when that's done,
I will stuff it inside my mattress bed.
Living in my swamp suits me just fine.
_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_
January 21st, 2016
Human Nature Contest
Sponsor: Marugu Mo
Spunky squirrels gather up nuts,
swiftly stashing them out of view.
In a hurry to stuff their guts—
spunky squirrels gather up nuts.
With bulging cheeks and furry butts,
you love to see them passing through.
Spunky squirrels gather up nuts,
stashing them safely out of view.
You love to see them passing through,
scampering around the garden.
And though they'll dig a hole or two —
you love to see them passing through.
Storing nuts, they'll bury a few;
before the ground starts to harden.
You love to see them passing through,
scampering around the garden.
So, if you have time in your day,
Quietly, spy on them at play.
Unafraid; they won't run away:
Instead, they tend to be quite bold.
Remember to watch, and not hold,
Rabies is something you should fear:
Enjoy them from afar, not near.
Loping along from tree to tree;
Scurrying free, for all to see.
"On my journey through life, I have met people like weeds
and flowers; I let all the weeds wither; and gather up the
flowers in a precious bouquet." Quote _ Constance
I have had many kinds of friends,
in this life of twists, dips and bends;
and have given many so called friends their ends,
after looking deep with my souls zoom lens;
I have seen there is no hope for us that blends,
and no chance of healing that mends !
Oh, my foolish heart has always been willing,
to accept people into my heart with love filling;
but, I have found often they are just not joy instilling,
in fact, their behaviour and actions are chilling;
and all friendship on my part killing !
So, my bleeding heart lets go of the weeds,
for I cannot accept their evil deeds;
letting real friends grow and bloom like planted seeds,
and my "true blue friends" I wear like a string of beautiful beads !
Yes, my foolish heart has been broken lots of times,
but, with friends that matter my heart and soul chimes;
and even if I only have a few friends our love climbs !
Truth, I do not feel stupid for having a foolish heart,
for in life and this journey some scars are part !
So, I wear my scars with pride like a Zen warrior !
_______________________
April 02, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/My Foolish Heart
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1445-071-02
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, My Foolish Heart $
sponsor, L MILTON HANKINS, Judged 4/04/2022
Black Night! Black Thoughts!
merging into one
No sword shall sever this Gordian knot
that binds my being
in thoughts of longing and despair
My tortured soul cries out
filled with a longing
to crush the things that torment me so
I see them with the mind's eye
and would strangle them
but they recede into the shadows of night
to mock me anew in ripened time
But now let my soul be at rest
even for a fleeting moment
for I am free
Free!
The very sound is music to my ear
filling the mind with such fantasies
that leap to the heavens
and leaves me panting just alive
As a man who is spent
I rest
and waves of gentleness flood my soul
The thought of a tender kiss
the smell of a rose
Jove's nectar
soothes my being
and sets my soul at ease
to gather up courage
to face another day
My place has no ceiling but an azure sky
where sunshine rain and wind washes over me
in winter, I gather up the snow and sigh.
My mind takes me here when life is a sad plea
muse floats to this soft breathless place where I lay
with wild flowers in a meadow by the sea
In summer, birds sing a dulcet song that drifts
and before long my sweet pen- I am lifting
________________________
April 9, 2020
Poetry/Verse/A Meadow By The Sea
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1242-618-09
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Submitted to the Brian Strand Pick 6 Contest
sponsor, Brian Strand, NA, Judged 04/2020
Life scars . . . are the roadmap of my soul,
though, under the midnight glow of violet:
there is still lots of pretty stardust that falls;
so, I gather up in my hands __ that stardust.
My life is now weather-stained with years,
and my dreams are like birds drifting away;
singing a melody ~ that floats in the wind,
to inspire they sing just for me __ it seems.
Pages of my life read like a ravaged garden,
and still- still I find beauty in each new day;
writing poetic words like stardust ~ pouring,
that hang dripping from branches in nature.
And each morn' I set out for my true north,
my hair a flowing sail in the ocean's wind;
it seems endless . . . under the sun and stars,
as the delicate stardust falls and follows me.
Oh, life is a journey of rapture, bitter and sweet,
it is like a fragile flower opening in dawns light;
like the birds singing ~~ a serenade just for us,
till we become that stardust falling from the sky.
Community of the Campfire
David J Walker
I
I’d forgotten the scent of the campfire
And its sense of mystery and
Community for the few who
Were invited to its borders
Offering its view of a flame
Named eternity
If only it could be harnessed and
Deciphered
II
Mother and Father
Built a campfire near a windmill
On the loneliest road
In New Mexico
They laid out in a pallet of quilts
Under the stars
While the children slept in
The spacious back seat of
A Hudson
In the morning we gathered
At the fragrant heat of dried
Mesquite branches on fire
As Mother made a breakfast of
Dice spam cooked in scrambled eggs
III
The first thing on our arrival
At the San Isabel Campgrounds
Was to gather up the
Dry tender kindling while father
Picked out the larger branches
To make a fire
The mountains provided the pine while
He used his crossbow saw and an ax
To attack the chore as a man with experience
I watched and learned as the
Campfire burned in the pit
Later I would mimic it
IV
On crisp Autumn Sunday mornings
My love and I would sit
In our backyard Garden of Eden
By a raised firepit
Warming ourselves
As the morning sun rose
Wondering if
Adam and Eve had it so good
Anyway, we had clothes,
Hoodies and sweats
And no snakes to contend with
old men plan a casual shrug to war
inflatable egos
the fault lines of "manageable engagement "
whims to sip glory
adventurous folly, pomp and fame
young men pay the toll
on a route that chokes their end
hapless fate
to burn through youth's prime
to cut that sweet apple in two
wide eyed faith that softens the will to question
to follow a nation's calling
to battle "barbarians"
till fighters labor to know what for
if freedom's not a bread that's shared
realities of war
a roaming slaughter, its drifting body count decay
a misery and waste that burn the sky
above battlefields of leafless trees
soldiers' lives on the clockhands of death
we gather up their shields and weep
till the peace comes midst desolation
till in wisdom and carnage a life affirming flame
is lit
Poem composed November 15, 2021
August 26 Heart for God Bible Meditations Based on Jeremiah 49-50
Key Verse – Jeremiah 49:5 Behold, I will bring a fear upon thee, saith the Lord GOD of hosts, from all those that be about thee; and ye shall be driven out every man right forth; and none shall gather up him that wandereth.
HEART THAT LEARNS FROM GOD WITH REVERENTIAL FEAR
Our heart learns from God with reverential fear against haughty sufficiency
That corrects us by His satisfaction-persistency
So that we can stay in His compassionate proficiency
And be content in enjoying His mercy.
Our heart learns from God with reverential fear against vain arrogance
That rebukes us by His meekness-deliverance
So that we can abide in His nourishing sustenance
And be peaceful in claiming His assistance.
Our heart learns from God with reverential fear against shameful selfishness
That humbles us by His sacrifice-completeness
So that we can acknowledge His omnipotent greatness
And be confident in trusting His kindness.
Our heart learns from God with reverential fear against perilous idolatry
That disciplines us by His standards in the ministry
So that we can march along truth-infantry
And be courageous in doing His will against sin-entry.
Our heart learns from God with reverential fear against hypocritical reaction
That cleanses us by His purging sanctification
So that we can strive for His holiness-anchored function
And be teachable in gaining from His instruction.
Our heart learns from God with reverential fear against worldly interest
That reproves us by His divine test
So that we can invest in His eternity’s fullest
And be fruitful in working for His honour, always the best.
Our heart learns from God with reverential fear against disobedient tenacity
That molds us by His loving authority
So that we can yield to His guiding sovereignty
And be blessed in praising His Deity.
August 26, 2022
Clinging to sunny Bognors regal
skirts
At his Majesties most royal verges
The readied hand thrusts upon the
lever,
And, shuddering, She forward lurches.
Clanking ominously over diesel fueled
growls,
Expediency, they said, was driven
to ignore:
The raised up objections and anguished
frowns,
And track them under tracked-over
ground.
For by unanimous vote they did smugly
decide,
Albeit tales of backhanders hotly denied,
That poor clymping Parish could no longer
abide
The daily through fare of the popular ride.
So when you next travel upon the new
Bypass
Think of the local residents you no longer
harass;
Dwell on the advantages you formerly
decried,
Whilst ripping through the greenbelt
to the jolly seaside.
Think of their tearooms, and the little
stone bridge,
Think of the old fort just beyond the sharp
ridge;
Think of their gift shops decked out with
festoons,
With bright little trinkets, plates and silver
spoons.
For over and beyond the ancient on-looking
hills
Creeps an old warming wind that carefully
steals:
To gently gather up the wretched mechanical
sounds -
And bear them away above the pale, distant
Downs!