Long Lemons Poems
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In the crucible of time, where the iron of human will is melted,
Lords of armies forge their crowns from flames that build mirages.
They invoke the spirit of the earth, but their thoughts leap over windmills,
In the sorcery of pride, chanting incantations that cast smoke in their eyes.
With siren's tongue, demagogues lull their people into a deceitful slumber,
Leading them to swim toward the maelstrom of war with arms of reliance.
Beneath a mask of patriotism embroidered with false gold, they become masters of illusion,
Building castles upon bones, under which lies only the sand of ephemerality.
They raise their speeches like obelisks toward the sky, but in their shadow lurk abysses,
Weeds of words grow toward the sun, stirring hearts with the wind of change.
They urge an exodus of souls to fields of stelar battle,
But they are shooting stars, covering the earth with craters of silence and oblivion.
They are alchemists seeking to turn the lead of fears into the gold of glory,
But in their flasks boil only delusions and their long, dark shadows.
Black magic they birth, in the name of a false rebirth,
Where white lemons of peace are promised, but autumn reaps only bitter citruses.
Oh, in this web of mirages, where each mirror is more deceiving than the last,
The hero becomes a lost shadow in the grand spectacle of power,
Playing the role assigned in this magical play of destiny,
Where the true enchantment is to see beyond the smoke curtain, to break the spell and be reborn before the end.
~*~
And I am coming to see you, Mom
It will take me half the day, by bus
But, I got up early, washed my hair with lemons
Like you used to do for me
I am wearing a real pretty dress
And holding a bouquet of pink flowers
Remember, when I brought you wilted dandelions
Yet, you loved them still
Can we just talk about things
About our journey, heartbreaks and many joys
I think of you every single day, Mom
You are my mother and my friend
I have a long bus ride home before dark
And it is starting to rain and get cold
It is never easy to turn and walk away
But, all I can do is leave a tear
Now, rest in peace, dear Mom
I'll be back next year
a la memoire de Jacqueline La France
______________________
May 12, 2013
Poetry/Verse/It's Mother's Day
Copyright Protected, ID 05-477-423-12
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
Written for the contest, Mother, Precious Poems
sponsor, A Poet Destroyer, Judged 05/66/2013
Fourth Place
Hi, how are you doing? Are you still living in the past?
Don't you know life’s hourglass is running out really fast?
I know you were dealt a boatload of lemons and no
lemonade.
And many nights, you had nightmares and were scared
and afraid.
Sometimes you are still haunted by ghosts of yesterday.
Do you still want to crawl into a hole every other day?
Remember you may have gotten knocked down but not
knocked out,
So get up; be proud; you have nothing to be sad so
about.
Please remember what you overcame; your scars don't
define you.
Don't you know you're a victorious warrior tried and true?
Don't forget I love you for the woman you are today and
aspire to be,
I'm forever in your corner; hold your high and walk-in
victory.
I asked the bird
about his philosophy.
In bird talk he replied, flying, bath
crapping, tweets his lyrical singing....
I asked the alligator:
lots of teeth, swimming,
attacking, cute little bubbles....
I asked the man and woman --
Romeo and Juliet, intense romanticism
sometimes leading to murder --
I thought to ask the politician, God said, don't
bother: double speak, crapping on everyone, lots of teeth, fake tweets,
attacking all critics, alleged criminality, doubtful an honest cell remaining
in his or
her, its entire body.
-----------------------------
Options
The world is sweet and sour
sometimes all lemons, as with
cracked eggs we make do.
Besides, omelets are quite
nutritious, the cat's meow
mixed with ham and some cheese
delightful compromises. What
I am getting at is, we are a
varied species of different tastes
and points of view, satisfying
options. Billions by last count.
Insects and politicians never my
first choice.
speak it as it was to be
something for a world of
people to love and admire.
delicious and special.
she wanted something that was flavored naturally.
we determined that a sweet fruity flavor would
be best. because she was cooking chicken
and felt it was best to have as much chicken as vegetables
she decided to make it easier on herself by using
something large to marinate the birds in.
she was cooking twenty game hens, and wanted a mixture of flavor
to marinate the birds in.
she came up with this.
in a large roasting pan she added,
5 pounds of grapes (vines and leaves)
2 trouts (scaled and cleaned)
4 garlic bulbs (halved and unpeeled)
5 medium onions(quartered with peels)
10 lemons(squeeze the juice and and halved)
5 sprigs of rosemary
4 sprigs of thyme
2 gingerootz (chopped)
5 small chilis (halved)
1 cup of cilantro
roast for about one hour( to extract the pungent aromas)
you only want the juices that are extracted from the mixture
drain by using a colander, and a fine screen.
allow to cool.
in a blender add
2 cups of olive oil
1/4 cup of salt
2 green peppers
1 large red onion
2 small chilis (seeds removed)
2 cup of red wine
3 cups of lime juice
1 cup of light brown sugar
4 tablespoons of ground ginger
1/2 cup of white vinegar
7 cloves of garlic
mix smooth and add to the cool mixture
2 two five gallon buckets with lids
add the game hens and pour mixture to cover all the birds.
marinate overnight.
broil birds in the oven until done.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
1 and one half cups of lemon juice
1 cup of coconut milk
1 cup of grapefruit juice
4 tablespoons of cayenne pepper
1/2 cup of honey
8 tablespoons of crushed garlic
1 cup of minced shallots
1 cup of coconut flakes
1/4 cup of light brown sugar
6 tablespoons of rum
4 tablespoons of grounded cumin
1 and 1/4 cup of olive oil
1/4 cup of mint leaves
3 pounds of deveined shrimp
marinade.
in a large roasting pan, add 1 cup of butter
and a half cup of olive oil
sautee about
6 cups of chopped eggplants,
6 cups of diced (cooked potatoes)
1 cup of green onions
add shrimp (cook shrimp underdone!)
add marandae and thicken with cornstarch
Where do they get those pink lemons
to make all that pink lemonade
Where are all the chocolate cows
for chocolate milk anyhow
Things aren't always as they seem
is everything really as you knew
what looks like a girl from behind
can be a boy with long hair he grew
Don't overthink how things are
life is to confusing in the end
just when you got it all figured out
something makes you begin again
I never seen a blue apple
or an orange without a peel
Now they tell me it is true
bananas are not even real
Eggplants use to look like eggs
hence that is how they got the name
How do they milk all those almonds
tomatoes being a fruit is insane.
Summer dances in the hills
dressed in colors of the fields
golden braids sunlit skin
velvet gown aquamarine
veil of flowers lilac pink
saffron diamonds ruby ring
on her hair a crown of green
with cerulean sparkling beads
chartreuse shoes, coral lips
rose fragrant lily mix
skipping dancing with the wind
in her arms a basket fill
guavas lemons nectarines
watermelons cherries figs
poppy flowers golden wheat
chasing crickets bumble bees
till the leaves festive green
turn to golden fallen tears
then twirling waves goodbye
colors mist rise and vanish
with a wink return a smile.
Sixth Place Winner: Brian Strand-No 1291-3/3/24
Sixth Place Winner: Brian Strand Premiere No 1202-3/25/23.
First Place Winner: Brian Strand-All Yours-3/6/21
Roses, apples, lemons, cinnamon, whipped cream, clouds
Colors, smells, patterns, textures, the world is on fire with fun
Pirates, gargoyles, dragons, unicorns, faeries, cats and Christmas trees
Majesty of the world, schizophrenia of the imagination, so much to do!
The dancing world of self, mystified by feelings gave me a taste today.
Reminding me of the things I need to slow down and notice again.
Fluff, dazzle, the wrinkles, the polka dots, the oranges and pinks.
Silver and gold, clanging and laughing. I smile at what is coming forth.
Choices my grandmothers never had are dancing in my lap.
Not tied to a kettle, or a bed, my freedoms are all over hell and back.
Roses, apples, lemons, cinnamon, whipped cream, clouds.
I lie in the sun soaking up the universe,
Loving what I had missed yesterday.
Vegetables were going into striped bowl at a record pace.
Tomato, celery, onion and carrot began a foot race.
Onion and radish rolled around and around the rim.
Las Vegas lemons and rutabagas slid right on in.
Broccoli wanted in on the action too.
I saw parsley slipping in with an old soft shoe.
What are we making? The veggies asked me at last.
I had no idea, it had happened so fast.
strawberry and raspberry both tried to sneak in.
You are not veggies! I said, grabbing them by their chin.
A salad? A fruit cake? A fajita or what? They asked.
I had no idea, but here came an egg, and it was masked.
We write poems, not poetry
And we don’t waste our time
We denounce the scandalous slime
As we expose all unspeakable crimes
We throw lemons, limes and rhymes
At them to chase away what’s so ugly
In them. We definitely want a better
World of compassion, love and peace
We cannot sleep at night, since there’s a list
Of good deeds and things that we want to offer
Violence is ubiquitous, violence is everywhere
For all our children, we want a better and safer
Environment. We want to always please Mom Nature
We speak out as loud as we can at the daily fair
We write a lot to tell the truth under the sun
We shout when it’s necessary to wake up the son
Of the mean, racist and grumpy old man at the beach
We do our best to expose them as we unleash
Lethal verses and powerful words to subdue them
And we even pray to a God still absent in Eden
When the victims are not white, powerful and rich
We don’t waste our time at all. We ponder and we teach
As we strive to create a better, safer and friendlier niche
Free of abject poverty, heinous violence and discrimination
As we remind everybody that we’re headed to one Nation
After death. The breath that we take is not cheap at all
Without this essentially vital oxygen, in due time, we all fall.
Copyright © July 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.