Long Mums Poems
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This weekend is Mothers Day in South Africa
So my niece Schade decided to send my Mum
A lovely bunch of flower's and a Hamper
They arrived on Friday
And she hasn't stopped smiling and crying
Since she received them
They say its not the actual gift but the thought behind it that matters
And watching my Mum in sheer bliss
Proved that fact beyond a shadow of a doubt
Its was not the gift she actually loved
Just the fact Schade had though about her
If anyone out there reading this can take the time
To do anything for someone they Love
Do it if not for themselves then do it for yourself
Its the greatest gift you can give both of you
Love is sharing
Love is caring
Dare to Love
Where is the flavour,
That we used to savour,
Many years ago
Ripe, juicy peaches,
Apricots and plums
That made flavourful preserves
They were made by many mums.
Gooseberries and Raspberries,
Black and redcurrants too
Succulent, Apples, Pears and oranges
To name just a few
Make sure you have a handkerchief,
To mop up the dribble from your chin,
Nearly every home grew fruit trees
Not to would be a sin
Home produce is healthy,
Picked from trees and dug from Earth,
The labour was rewarding,
It most certainly was worth
The effort to provide
Nutrition for the family
To keep them healthy,
And survive,
Processed food was minimal,
When I was a little girl,
Too much of it is criminal
It makes my stomach curl,
Packets of seeds and granules
A lousy excuse for food
The advertising is misleading,
It states the contents are good
I try to steer clear of them.
And confident others should.
I miss the aromas that seemed,
To be more pungent in the past,
The flavours in fresh food
And the satisfying tastes that last,
I feel a lot of flavours worldwide have left
Please bring back taste and flavour.
Before, it becomes bereft.
POTD 10th May 2018
A dedication to our departed Mum, Anne Forbes.
And to all the dearly departed Mums who celebrate Mother’s day on the second Sunday in May. We will meet again.
The day came when she had to leave
And we were left behind to grieve
If we could wish her back for a day
A million things we would need to say
As exquisite as painted silk these wings
I soar past clouds ~ with a Soul that sings
Every precious moment by her side
Fighting back tears we hold inside
Knowing she would go away
The Wish ~ was only for a day.
In a whirl of color flying fast
Hastening to a future of Ever last
A Wish granted ~ a butterfly in our midst
An astral sensation like we’ve been kissed
The Sun shines brighter on this glorious day
The whispering breeze that seems to say
Pearlescent petals in the air
Shimmering sun beams everywhere
I’m always here ~ I watch you all
And comfort you if you falter or fall
So dry your tears ~ no need to grieve
My tangible form ~ you must believe
I never left ~ I love you still
To Eternity’s end ~ I always will
On a whispering wind that gently sighs
I fly like a butterfly ~ there are no goodbyes
POTD 10th May 2018
Video Clip:
"On The Wings Of A Butterfly" by Jimmy Scott.
My internal clock will not stop
It's like an express train in a bad b movie
Full on, no brakes heading for the grave , hoot ,hoot
Mums, Dads, Brothers caught the same train , now it's my turn.
If only I knew when this train will arrive.
People departed, People arrived ,some even stayed for the ride.
This is my journey, but others are on this runaway ride
People who loved me, people that don't, people who tell me they do, but they don't!
Smiles and hand waves as I depart, then a two fingered salute when I look a way
If only I knew when this train will arrive
I speed past my work place where your my life wore a clock face
I speed past my home where I stopped off to sleep
I speed past the Girlfriends who is waving away
I speed past the play ground where I used to play
If only I knew when this train will arrive
I sit and I wonder the when and the why.
The words and the actions that will define my time
I didn't buy a ticket for this train crash ride
I may pull the emergency cord and kiss this journey goodbye
If only I knew when this train will arrive
October is a beautiful enchanting time,
I love all the trees of red and gold;
going for strolls before it gets cold,
a walk in crunching leaves is so sublime.
It is so nice to wear a soft scarf and sweater,
to drink steaming hot chocolate outside;
to make my first pumpkin pie with pride,
and apple though mom's were much better.
I have fun decorating the house for Fall,
with mums and sunflowers galore;
and chrysanthemums at the door,
laying before a fire wrapped in gran's shawl.
But, I must not forget to thank God,
for the Autumn colors he painted;
for those swirling leaves tainted,
that make October a season to be awed.
_____________________________
September 30, 2020
Poetry/Enclosed Rhyme/October the Beautiful
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1290-561-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, October
sponsor, Regina McIntosh
Third Place
And they came home battered, bruised,some we had to carry, unlike other armies ,we don’t shoot our wounded
We give them fresh water, tend their wounds,, sustenance to mend their soul and nourishment for what ails.
They come back from the front lines at all hours and always with love their bound
Stroud where their love is abounded
To cheers and salutations and our greeters summoned great support
Some of our wounded suffered Covid and death ,the pyres stacked high with wood and carried
Meetings ten ante meridiem and ten post meridiem , everyday of the year
Bloody and ragged, torn and hungry
Stroud where we are proud to serve,
God isn’t afraid to walk freely and His grace loves His steep streets
Mums never hide and Me Dad never shirks a duty nor a pint ,My sister is
quite the sassy one though
The heat of summer gradually subsides
A coolness comes to Earth, to air, to tides
The architects of castles in the sand
Return to classrooms, teachers, books and band
Our gardens nearing final days and hours
Yield happily the last of fruits and flowers
A message comes to visit on the breeze
It's written on the color-changing trees
This pass of summer cannot be delayed
But we can still remember how we played
Come breath of freshness, as the seasons change
Our nature canvas now will rearrange
The sun will sooner rest low in the sky
A cotton candy treat then for the eye
Soon Mums and gourds and pumpkins on the porch
Of hay bails and a scarecrow tiki torch
So welcome hues of reds and golden glow
Dear Autumn, let your pleasing pace be slow
STROLLING IN THE VIBRANT OF AUTUMN
Strolling down the park, marvelous sight of wonder,
God’s beautiful landscape in kaleidoscope. My heart
in salutation in vibrant color of the leaves. Celestial
spheres, seems to meet the earth and sky, in bright
hues of stunning red, orange, yellow and purplish
nirvana.
Hand in hands, we strolled, emerald green and
gold splashes walkways. Beds of mums in rustic
classic, some view in bright solid chromatic hues.
The kinder breeze, sending the aroma of
thanksgiving feast.
We felt melancholic in the woods, trees dressed
in elegant gold, tears of farewell, to find rest
on cold grave.The sounds of crickets, signals
male calling, a night of dating. Migrated monarch
butterflies, finding a warmer home, to lay eggs.
Squirrels and herbivorous hare, busy digging burrows,
storing food for winter chill. That afternoon walk brings
romance in scented cold air. We tap dance to the tune
of crunchy leaves, stomped, laughed and rolled on the
bed of crisps and colorful leaves.
©aroque
All rights reserved
Picture # 4 used as inspiration
At our lakeside cottage where we have pottage at night
When autumn comes and russet mums' blossoms daze
Go to bed early, nothing to dread and wake by sun's light
As the sun sets there's no regrets just joy at summer's end
Fall wears her gown, her trees a crown as sun sends angular rays
All of those glorious colors and arboreous reflections seem to blend
Upon the lake beside our cottage , no place we've tried above it does rise
Our golden lab lying asleep, as nights slowly creep upon days
We peacefully rest, and feel so blessed as sleep softly creeps with surprise
In Kew Gardens I feast on
daffodils and swans and honk-
ing geese in turf protection mode
and one spectacular show
from a strutting peacock’s tail,
its color chart exploding
against the day’s gray weather.
On warmer days Kew is packed
with mums and dads and kiddies
running about or being pushed
in prams. Today’s marginal
weather has cut the numbers.
I am drawn to a park’s promises
in crowd depleting weather. .
In youth I’d sit on a bench
beneath a chestnut tree and feel
fully protected from rain
by the natural umbrella
of thick leaves above my head
or, barefooted, tramp through wet
grass after the midday storm.
In the misted gray of not
quite Spring Kew Garden isn’t
in full bloom but I can feel
the promise of warmer days and,
with luck, the persistent need
of a peacock to impress
his ladies with the full bloom
of his magnificent tail.