Long Knee Poems
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To people not retired yet,
Some info I can share
On what you might expect if life
Decides to take you there.
You’ll have the time to travel
(If you have the ways and means)
And a chance to find some hobbies;
(Join the sports/crafts/gaming scenes).
If you’re lucky, there’ll be grandkids
Who might occupy some days
Or perhaps a part-time gig’s for you.
(Much nicer if it pays!)
But as the years progress
With all that freedom (so exquisite!)
You may find your planner filled
With every sort of doctor visit.
‘Cause it’s rare for a retiree
To never have a date
With a medical provider –
All those -ologists await!
So to those who’ll soon retire,
Cram it in – take every trip,
Since your future holds a specialist
For heart, brain, knee and hip!
Animals Poetry Contest
Constance La France
Snowball painted my life with all hearts
He would fill our canvas with his love
For twelve years we played our parts
Like two little angels from above
That were married like a ball to a glove
How a little Maltese captivated me
He was so faithful, sincere, and true
He would jump onto my lap and knee
And scamper to my sock and shoe
Nose sniffing my body through and through
He loved to play outside in the yard
We played, danced, and skipped to his treats
Yet his eyes would always be on guard
Barking at the passersby off the streets
And lapping at the sparrow's tweets
Twelve years we lived like husband and wife
The paintbrush of life rolling with the days
It was the happiest time of my life
Until the sun kneeled down in a blaze
I yelled, saw redness, and cried as he lays
Swish tailed Hamish, gloss black Stallion
Proud prize show hero bore blue medallion
Champion head turner tenacious steed
Lonely hoof stomper longed for a companion
Incidence of coinciding reserved to imagine
Narrow minded owners oblivious to his need
High knee haughty mare trotted by his enclosure
Temptation's waft overcame limited exposure
Hamish neighed a friend request, - she agreed
Lake rippled muscle, alpha outraged neck tossed
Winner's whinny recognised chance may be lost
Breaking barriers now became a necessary deed
Chest of windswept lake assisted stable escape
Charging through victoriously, gate swung agape
Asked lady to dance, she daringly took the lead
Dust distubed finesse surpassed usual manuevres
Hamish whispered happily, " Forever, the two of us."
Most cherished equine paradise known while freed
28th July 2020
Written for Contest: Tail End Stanza
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
The patient's prognosis, pretty bleak,
a doctor's mindless laughing shriek,
an impression or a ghost so vague,
a gavel pounding in The Hague,
is it memory's plague?
I can never see it or understand.
Am I the patient? My brain is scanned.
It's sometimes near and far, you see.
Everywhere it follows me,
brings me to my knee.
A mad, psychotic, jangled melody,
lyrics without a remedy,
again, and again and again,
I feel every kind of pain.
They tell me I'm insane.
You taunt and tease me, while I can't place
you. Ghastly spirit, show your face.
Laughing hellhound floating free,
demon memory, are you the key
to my sanity?
He found me broken, restless.
He found me dirty, not worthy, fading with every given day.
He found me through the dark, cold fog in depths of despair.
Ground that was once soil, now filled with mud from years of unceasing rain.
Kneeling down on one knee, He took my face in His hands and whispered, "Daughter, let me heal your wounds past, present, and future."
This time the rain wasn’t cold, wet, or unpleasant. It was warm and smelled of roses. It was a healing rain. A rain to wash away my brokenness, restlessness, dirt of my sins, unworthiness. Dark, cold fog lifted, seeing the once flooded ground now had spring flowers, smelling of sweet nectar.
The great kilt.
“Och aye the noo”
TraIs the cat deid? –
Has the cat died? your trousers are a bit short
– like a flag flying at half mast
Liken my great grandfather did why don’t you put on a kilt
Oh yes, right now
My 16th century
Originating in the traditional
Scots bearing dress of men and boys
In the Scottish Highlands
Is a skirt-type garment with pleats at the rear?
Since the 19th century,
The kilt has become
Associated with the wider
Scottish and Gaelic cultures
A symbol of national pride and tradition
Those cultural heroes of the highlander
Yes! Even some made its way into our military units
And eventually a suited attire symbol of formality
The great kilt.
The first mention of kilts is in 1538
They were worn as full-length garments
Those Gaelic-speaking Scots Highlander men
Were the first to wear them?
The knee-length kilt that we see today
Didn't come around until the early 18th century
Those belted plaid or great kilt
Such a full-length garment
The great kilt
Whose upper half could be worn as a cloak?
Draped over the shoulder, yes even worn by soldiers
Being brought up over the head as a hood
Revealing in a distance a cloak of disability
Comes from the Scots word kilt meaning
Old Norse people donned them kjalta
Meaning lap, fold of a gathered skirt
Also a combat dress
This great kilt
Nonetheless, individual exceptions continued, and it is believed
The kilt was last widely worn in action at the Evacuation of Dunkirk
In May 1940 on D-Day, June 1944, Lord Lovat,
Commander of 1 Special Service Brigade,
This Great Kilt
Was accompanied by his personal pipers who wore a kilt
Played the bagpipes – while German bullets whizzed around him
This tradition has been continued
Within the Pipe Bands of the Republic of Ireland's Defense Forces
The Great Kilt, One of The Themes of Scotland
3/20/21-©2021
For Contest Theme of Scotland
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
All My Days
I heard the angels sing
I truly listened just to hear
What message they had to bring
That caused a joyous tear
Teardrops formed without notice
I felt them dripping off my chin
Bringing joyous feelings unexplained
Forgiving me of all my sin
Was it just a glorious dream
It could be you might say
But for me it was absolute truth
And l bowed my head to pray
God is my saving grace
Believe my words of praise
I say to all with no doubt
They will be with me all my days
There are those who do not believe
I know not what becomes of them
But l shall pray on bended knee
For non believers and say..amen
I was touched by the hand of God
Believe my words of praise
And I heard the angels singing
These memories l shall have……
all my days
Connie Moore
April, 20th 2025
Blessings, saturated in God’s favor, fruitful, divine. You have yours. Here is a mind full of mine:
Agápe, a selfless love, contains all of God’s goodness and grace.
Baptism, an open air declaration; bath of Bathsheba, forgiven.
Clear conscience, nothing to hide - my dirty rag washed clean.
Depths of the wonders of God goes on and on and on, forever.
Everlasting life as fellow heirs of Christ; a precious kingdom key.
Forgiveness for we are all guilty - He lets us touch His hem.
Grace spoken; I am not in the sights of God’s wrath - thankful.
Helpings from friends folded hands; they share in answered prayers.
I AM — he knocked down opponents who stood up, nailed Him to a cross.
Just as I am, I was called, though knee deep in misery, He saved me.
Klepto - why steal from God? He lets me keep ninety percent — blessed.
Larger than life one may say, but He is life...
Multiplies what we need, what we ask for - God takes joy in this.
Name change — not what we see, but what He sees — our best.
Offering of praise brings heaven to us, changes things.
Psaltery of emotions, lets us know we are not alone in this flesh.
Questions of Jesus, pondered and extrapolated, deep answers.
Rapture, knowing we will also return with Him and angel armies.
Serendipities- God’s surprises better than gold.
Tree of life - I can’t wait to try its choice fruit - finders keepers.*
Under His wings, I have refuge.
Vision in the circle - as we envision God, He appears.
Weary, I do not faint, mounting on the wings of an eagle — soar...
Xray of strong bones, dry bones reborn.
Years spent studying His word pays dividends of wisdom and peace.
Zephyr breath of Holy Spirit, a gift that speaks.
7/16/2020
SHARE YOUR BLESSINGS POETICALLY Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Beata Agustin
*American saying - what you find you can keep. We find salvation, it is ours forever!
Adrift in some Mad American Empire
I stand in my shadow as the future winds come
Looking over the ruins of my nation!
Eyes grow dim as the masses succumb
Families cry as loved ones are stolen!
What have we become
A piece of crumpled banner flutters in the sky
Blue field, a bold white name
Are those bloody hands I see crimson? Insane!
Orange-faced jack-o-lantern, grinning
Nothing behind those beady black eyes
I stand & watch the fading embers of a nation!
Die in the future winds that come
My mind grows numb to the media screaming
Insanity into the void of morality!
Loves one die, a price for life too high
What, what we have done, brother against brother
A silent, cold civil war of words & woe
Tattered printed fliers of a "bad orange man."
Dance through a vacant street
A madman and the shadow of a fool
...dons a red, white, & blue crown!
Adrift in some mad American empire
Long live tyranny, Amerikannia rules again, my friend!
No! I beg to differ!
As I stand in the coming rain
I will not bow or bend a knee to an American king
Or a billionaire jester, a clown in a tin can trash truck
I will not let my sisters bleed on barren grounds
I will not let my brothers, black or brown, be stollen
To be forgotten, never to be found
Live, love, and laugh as love is love
Love who you want; you will not be trampled upon!
I will not go correction; We will not
Go gentle into that goodnight
We will rage, rage against
Treason and tyranny!
The orange crown will be cast down
So remember remember the 5 of November
When the nation ran red with MAGA’ots and dread
Remember January the 6th, when his minions raged
It was not a myth that January the sixth!
So I stand in the winds of the coming doom
As a cold, bitter rain pelts my face
Adrift in some Mad American Empire
And rage, rage against the orange king and cyber clown!
We will not be silenced
Or voices will rise...
RISE!
To topple a tin dictator
To overcome tyranny
To destroy Fascism
Like my father’s father!
We Will REMEMBER
As We are RESISTANCE!
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.…even in some mad American empire!
When I was five, I played
Around other children
At the park
On the west edge
Of town, where the gray concrete slab served
As our skating rink.
I recall
Their presence, but not their faces-
Their laughter, but not their smiles-
Their movements, but not their forms-
Too intent was I upon my own
Zigzagging dance.
I circled…’round and ‘round
In white, boot-styled skates
With four wheels and a pink rubber stopper attached
To each toe, and laces so long that they needed
Two ankle wraps before tying the ends in a lopsided bow.
I ventured…on my braver days
To the center of the rink, far
From the railings; too far to catch myself
From falling.
I trudged home … then
With fresh knee-scrapes and dried tear-trails
On my cheeks, and my mother knew
I had been brave.
Sometimes, I walked…
By myself
On all the sidewalks
In our tiny town
From my home to the park,
From the park to the grocery store on the corner where
I crossed the street straight ahead, turned
Left, and crossed again
Northward
Up the long, long hill past Doug White’s house, turned
Right at the Parker kids’ house, and
Skipped
To the red-bricked building
With “Redfield” carved
Above the double doors at the top
Of the steep cement steps.
I sensed… other children hurrying up the steps
Into the dark, narrow entrance hall
Of the old brick school where raincoats were hung
On hooks just outside the classroom door, and
Red rubber overshoes lined
Up against the wall waiting.
I stood in the doorway,
Looked inside, and
Watched the others.
I recall…
Their presence,
Their laughter,
Their movements, and
I felt… safe.