Long My sister Poems
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I have a good-looking piano
I have a splendid kitchen…
overflowing with fruit
I have a wonderful future
to look forward to
I have a hearts for
harmonizing with my sister;
my voice sounds like a flute
I have a couple of guitars…
but no drums to pound on
I have tons of songs to write…
for you
I have a decent apartment –
a family-oriented environment
I have drawings all over the place…
hanging up on my walls
I have an awesome summer
to set my mind on
Ha-ha,
but unfortunately,
I have to stay busy with my mowing job…
But I won’t have time
to laze around and sob!
I need to stay true
to my schedule…
No time for summer school…
thank the Lord Almighty ~
No time to horse around…
Oh no!
No time to act naughty ~
I have a room
I share with my bro…
BUT he plays his rap music too loud,
Yah know?
I have a trillion poems to organize
I’m lacking motivation fuel
Every day,
I want to be satisfied with what I have
and I refuse to feel unhappy
Every day,
I always long for
more confidence to exterminate my negativity
Every single day,
I have to admit that
I can get stubborn at times
Almost every night,
I search for the answers…
In prayer,
I seek for my
Deliverance from Egypt
Help me stay focus and be equipped
Or I’ll be outstripped
Or…whipped
I have a virtuous, marvelous God
Who crafts miracles?
Who gives everyone blessings that deserve it?
Who delivers people out of Egypt?
Who listens and answers to our supplications?
Who is the Father of us all?
Is it God? – Yes
I have a long-term goal
That sticks to my brain like brain tissue
I have a family who taught me how to sing
Who taught me
The difference between what’s right
And what’s wrong
I have a million things to do…
Invigorating ideas shimmers anew
Ideas for the summertime…
Lists of things to do to keep myself busy
At least I have some friends and family
to spend time with 24/7 –
That’s what I call
True Heaven
I’m thirsty for assurance
I’m hungry for reverence
I’m hoping to be of your assistance
Not your adversary…not your encumbrance…
But, I’m sick of playing the fool –
I’m probing for His acceptance
I’m yearning for my independence,
not your vengeance…not your eloquence…
I want to be as constructive as a handy tool
Six years ago, I perjured myself at a murder trial.
Now I realize what I did was both evil and vile.
My poor sister was the person who was killed.
When I testified, the defendant's fate was sealed.
I was so sure that he was guilty, that's why I lied.
The man was sentenced to death after he was tried.
I wanted that man to die ever since he was placed under arrest.
But two months ago, another man came forward and confessed.
That man went to the gas chamber because I said that I saw him kill my sister.
I was consumed by pain and anger and I really missed her.
I really did wrong when I took the stand.
My lie caused the death of an innocent man.
I confessed that I perjured myself and now I'm in jail.
I feel so much pain and remorse and now I live in hell.
I felt that it was an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.
Justice would've prevailed if I had simply told the truth.
(THIS IS A FICTIONAL POEM.)
back in 2012 I got sick and thought it was my end
I believed that my writing days were over
so I deleted all my poems on Poetry Soup
but for some reason not my account
did I still have hope ...
I did end up in the hospital
(stayed there for six months )
the doctors told my family to prepare themselves
they kept me in intense care for weeks
my sister came every day to weep
I had dreams of my mother
calling my name from far away
I was running through trees searching
searching ... then, one day I woke up
to find out I had kidney failure
but, I survived and I am telling you this story
it was a long recovery in hospital
I live with one kidney now
and treasure each new dawn
when I started feeling better
I began walking around and found the hospital chapel
on a table was a Bible...1 opened it
and that has made all the difference
back in my room I wanted to write
I called my family to bring me paper and pens
my brother set me up with a computer
and I began writing again ...
_______________________
May 22, 2022
Poetry/Free Verse/My Near Death Journey
Copyright Protected, ID 05-1458-020-22
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the contest, How You Live or
Have Been Healed From A Difficult and
Challenging Health Condition
Sponsor, Angela Tune, Judged 06/07/2022
Second Place
FLAT EARTH VS. GLOBAL
I don't believe the earth is flat
I'm not a scientist but it's a sure bet
That no matter how far one travels
No one has fallen over the edge as of yet
I often wonder if the flat earth society
Have memberships around the globe
How would they explain that phenomenon
The truth would sooner or later unfold
My sister and brother in law
Regularly hike the "Abby grind"
I'm sure when they are climbing, the flatness
Of the earth is not prominent in their mind
Though the flat earthers have some very good points
Like the earth is 71% H2o
Maybe in a sense it is flat
Because it's not carbonated, we know
When I was in school we learned the earth is round
But I'm from Sasatchewan, born and raised
And my world is definitely pancake flat
That's the situation here, that I've appraised
DJC Dec 23/25
Saturday Morning November 1964
My twin and I have a TV Guide in front of us
We are thrilled because we got a colored TV set yesterday.
In the TV Guide there is a peacock by the shows that are in color.
This will be the first time we have ever seen Under Dog in color!
We watch the clock.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
Under Dog music starts.
A flying underdog flashes across the sky.
He is wearing mostly red; his cape is blue.
My twin and I stare at each other.
“I thought his outfit was blue!” we both say.
We have only seen him in grayscale up until now.
Polly Purebred was a complete surprise too.
I had pictured her in green, and my sister thought she would be in pink.
She was dressed in blue.
We ate our soggy cornflakes in silence.
I felt betrayed. I am not sure how my sister felt.
It is like seeing a movie after you have read the book
and have pictured the characters completely different.
The nightmare wrestles me all night long. Devils smash me around.
I wake up screaming, but it is a silent scream. No noise happens.
I know he is not my forever man, but he is what I have, so I pretend.
My sister calls me the next day to tell me to confront him.
She confronts her men; that is why she does not have one now.
She has confronted a whole bunch of them. A showdown she says.
She likes this level of stress. I am not one for confrontation.
I go to sleep the next night, optimistic the nightmares are gone.
This nightmare is worse than the last one. I see him with other women.
Women I know. Women I trusted. I am hurt, shocked, crying now.
A devil is chasing me demanding we have a showdown.
I am terrified, and I start screaming, wailing, keening.
My prince charming wakes me up, cradling me.
I am glad to see his warm hazel eyes. He is my man.
Right now, this second. And it is enough. He asks what is wrong
I say nothing, not ready yet to release hand give up on my dream
Of forever after.
We both know he smells like another woman’s cologne, but
the masks are on. No showdown tonight.
he knew not that day he’d walk toward death,
strolling by Colorado pines with a leash in hand;
St. Patrick’s Day is cold in Michigan every year
and in 2011 we had the most snow in history-
he was minding his own business and all of a
sudden right in front of him was my frozen sister
“encompassed in Winter was my sister who died,
she had been there for three months after her suicide”
he was not expecting to encounter a body buried,
never thought he’d see sights he wished were unseen-
thinking she was homeless without warmth to comfort,
knew not she was my sister who chose death over life;
in tragic awe he stood wondering what had happened,
then he remembered her picture from the newspaper
“a crowded mind worn from a man I’ll always remember-
for we were searching everywhere since late December”
snow melting,
decaying;
Spring arriving,
praying
we talked a few days later and he apologized,
for what, I knew not ... for he had given us closure-
I wanted to know so bad what she looked like,
yearned to see her one last time to say goodbye;
the sight of her body left him breathless too-
for he’d never forget St. Patrick’s Day 2011
“I felt close to him, and he explained just the same-
my gratitude extends; I’ll never forget Robert’s name”
September 20, 2019
John Lawless
I'LL NEVER FORGET WHAT'S HIS NAME (OR HER NAME) Poetry Contest
Hello mate with the smile of a sweet peach, how may I help you angel.
She had a smile that would calm the savage breast of the beast before an attack.
Her teeth of pearly white and small dimples in her cute cheeks, how I long to kiss those soft cheeks.
A pretty smile that deserves a soft kiss upon her lips.
A natural nude color of her lips, they need no lip stain; however, the lip stain would add more to you in a form of a compliment.
Seeing your feet every morning before you got ready for work, white and of red polish.
How I longed to embrace your sweet form and draw in your pleasant scent.
Your hair is beautifully blond and medium length.
Your eyes are a pool of water in Cinque Terre.
They draw me into a smile.
Your voice calms my soul.
May I say to you, I love knowing you.
A troubadour in my heart.
A troubadour in your heart.
I hope to God you are ok my soul mate.
I hope you succeed.
I may be able to catch a glimpse of you on a Sunday at our mutual location.
Only then can I say thank you.
Only then can I hold your hand and embrace you as my sister in the eyes of the Messiah.
Only then can I greet you in my European way.
To you I would like to say, “in another time our hands were together in white and black.”
Praise to Allah for us meeting; maybe someday our paths will cross again.
Possibly you may become a part of my heart; however, only Yahweh will place you into a lower role than that of a wife.
I will still say I love you.
A dynasty of events has become our destiny, Miss D. Grazie mi bella ragazza di Bianca.
La mia angela di capelli di biondi.
Bachiami.
Paper.
The howl of the last person to put their pencils in their pencil box.
In this truth, I experience.
Paper within paper.
You could boil it.
And boil everything gone.
And eat the leftover mashed paper.
I have several sparkly pens.
They are just so nice.
If I could write for a few hours at a time…
I would turn off the stove and order take out.
Splashing around in the words.
Laugh and turn the paper into a crumpled ball.
I don’t think anyone really does these things.
The weariness, the scribbles.
Paper strains all water, if it gets dunked in.
I miss my sister.
She likes things like magazines, and books.
And me.
I’m a paper mache girl!
Wild, and made of scraps.
Looks real, so real.
All that paper can be.
Hey Sis,
listen to me.
I am not talking to the illness,
I am talking to you.
And I need you to hear me louder than the lies in your head.
That voice?
The one that claws at you,
that shrinks your world down to scales and numbers?
It is a liar.
It is a thief.
It is a cage.
And cages break.
Cages break.
Cages break.
You are not a problem to be fixed.
You are not a bed in a ward.
You are not a fragile body under fluorescent lights.
You are a wildfire.
Say it with me,
You are a wildfire.
You are a wildfire.
And wildfires don’t bow.
Wildfires don’t bend.
Wildfires burn through.
Do you remember who you are?
The girl who ran faster than anyone said she could.
The one who laughed so hard she couldn’t breathe.
The one who fought for me when I was too tired to fight for myself.
That’s still you.
Still you. Still you. Still you.
This illness wants you silent.
But you are not silent.
Say it
I am not silent.
This illness wants you small.
But you are not small.
Say it,
I am not small.
This illness wants you gone.
But you,
you are still here.
Still here.
Still here.
And that means you are already winning.
So hear me now:
I will not let this thing write your story.
I will not bow to it.
I will not fear it.
And neither will you.
We fight.
We rise.
We burn.
We fight.
We rise.
We burn.
Because you are my sister.
And you are so much more than this battle.
And I swear on every ounce of blood in my veins,
we will burn this sickness out of the shadows.
We will drag you back into the light.
And when you stand there,
free and furious and whole again,
the world will remember what it means
to see you rise.