Long Reddish brown Poems
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The Old Rusty Gate
Old rusty gate stands as guard without fear,
sightly slant at the back of my garden.
Blue bell creeper leans on as iits barden.
But it serves faithful since long thirty years.
Great watchman dutiful not yet broken.
Through day and night it acts as sentinel.
Perch for bird: Path for running squirrel.
It raises harsh cracking sound when opened.
Otherwise no complaint: Perfect watchman
I feel nostalgic and can't change the gate,
though visitors to garden get upset.
My oldest companion: I'm lts fan.
Old gate has captured thick reddish brown rust.
But it is still robust sturdy and strong
serving me sincere since thirty years long.
Struggling with time looses lustre, draws dust.
I am calling mason this afternoon
The gate will be repaired with new fresh look,
standing proud guarding garden at back nook.
To be painted and polished very soon.
07/10/22
Fourth place
Choose one of five
Contest by Joseph May
Title chosen The Old Rusty Gate
A Brian Strand Premier Choice
Contest by Brian Strand.
As seasons change
watch the dazzling colours
Oaks turn a deep warm reddish brown
Inspiration for deepening the thoughts
tempting and flirtatious heartbeats
Chaotic scenes ensue
Guilt falls heavily
when foliage etch with pain
Pandoras apparitions
Fountains in gloss and glory
Journey drifts through golden fields
Pirouettes of beauty
tangled threads of time
- slips into a masterpiece, speechless
soothing synchronicity harmony
To bring our family closer together we went
For a walk in the myriad shades of green
Forest on a long light brown rough hew log
Pathway that goes through the woods
With a rope going along the top to hang
On to. We completely got away from
Society.
White flowers were growing through the
Logs on the left and right sides making
This a beautiful scene with an aromatic
Bouquet. The sun shining through the
Trees up ahead of us was giving off an
Autumn reddish brown glow to the leaves.
We had to face an actuality
Since we lost a child we needed a different
Type of family activity.
When Melody was alive we would all go to
The beach cottage to enjoy the sand, water,
Sun, and sea breeze.
Now to bring our family closer together we
Went for a walk in the myriad shades of
Green forest on a long light brown rough
Hew log pathway that goes through the
Woods with a rope going along the top to
Hang on to. We completely got away from
Society.
We wanted this family vacation to give us
A new family memory without any
Reminders of Melody taking away our
Gaiety
Or making anyone feel ill at ease.
We had to face An actuality.
Nature gives off a form of energy.
As does our grandchildren when their
Playing with our Maltese.
To bring our family closer together we went
For a walk in the myriad shades of green
Forest on a long light brown rough hew log
Pathway that goes through the woods with
A rope going along the top to hang on to.
We completely got away from society.
This was brought to life as we used the
Rough water fountain and the bathroom
Facility.
We were in a time freeze.
We had to face an actuality.
I am happy to report this vacation was a
Victory
For us as a family. Everyone was pleased.
To bring our family closer together we went
For a walk in the myriad shades of green
Forest on a long light brown rough hew log
Pathway that goes through the woods
With a rope going along the top to hang on
To. We completely got away from society.
We had to face an actuality.
She is sitting,
front legs under her reddish-brown mass.
When I think of her shape
it is always her belly I see most.
The bulging warmth,
the mastication, her on-going digestion.
I'm a boy,
the large cow is my meaty lean-to.
One hot summer afternoon can last for years,
on one such a year
I was resting my back
on her bovine flank's, she did not seem to care.
I really think she wanted to feel me listening
to her giant belly.
A drowsy time took its rest also.
Bees buzzed, but far away.
High flying gees made the sky speak.
Listening to her massive body, I think
I melded into her life. Her ongoing
industrial mashing
of moist clods of vegetable materiel.
The rhythmic digestive process
seemed to me to be almost musical.
When she farted, it was as though
she had turned roughage to water,
and water into wine.
I could smell the spirit of the grass,
and strangely,
I could within my own small form,
feel the mutable mystery of the land
as it churned grain into bread,
our meat to spirit.
He was only a sheepdog
But his death has bitten
Into my soul ever since.
As a pup we brought
Him from his home
In Ireland
Where supernumeraries
Are drowned
No small farm needing
More than one mutt.
His reddish brown brother
Had been our first choice
We were left , my father-in-law's choice,
With the black and white collie.
Now his residence would be
A Scottish housing estate
We all grew to love him
I became his alpha male
How his ears would prick up
And he would sit attentively
At the window,
Awaiting my usual time of arrival
With a welcome where,
With tail wagging furiously
His paws would reach up to my chest
As he sought to lick my face
From strength to strength he grew
A tireless walker,chewer of carpets
Chaser of sticks and thief of Sunday roasts
How we all used to smile
When he darted to the opposite end of the room
Whenever my son burst into tears.
This had to be his way
Of saying,"Don't blame me."
He was right at home
Running round the street
With a gaggle of kids
He found his true metier
On returning to the farm
Where he was born
For two days he sat
And watched his brother
Bringing in the cows
And then relieved him
Of his duties
This task he performed
With great gusto
While his brother skulked off
Glad to be relieved
Of his daily chore
He was so much at home
On the farm
Revelling in the freedom,
Enjoying the work
And he was so much bigger
And more energetic than his brother
Tragedy struck
On our return home
Tied to the garage door
To keep him from getting
Under my wife's feet
Meant he could not run away
When a little girl kept blowing
In his face
Self-defence saw him
Nipping her in the neck.
That is what sealed
His death warrant
Gloom settled over our home
That nip might have been fatal
Fatal it was for him
The death sentence was passed
That last long walk
Was our rush to judgment.
We walked slowly
His head hung low
Never had I known
Him so quiet
He entered the killing room
Unflinching and calm
The vet's needle did the deed
Seeing his young body
Stretched lifeless
On that cold dark slab
Has burned my soul
With remorse
Ever since
Written: August 22, 2023
______________________________________________________________
Under the warm glow of a summer night's sky.
I discover solace and serenity, an instant of sigh.
While enjoying a cup of coffee, I relax on my deck.
I relish seeing nature portray its wonderful trek.
Maples, which was once green, turned red.
Their vivid hues had me sense the delight
Hazel trees quickly followed and spread.
Their leaves turn golden in the sunlight.
The oaks in the far distance loom tall.
The leaves turn a rich, warm reddish brown.
Drawing the end of summer and onset of fall.
Yet it ends in a reward for laborious bound.
For months I've toiled, tending the land,
Weeding, watering, and mowing by hand
But now, as the sun sets low,
I reap the rewards and my labor grows.
The air is crisp, with a hint of fall.
Yet the warmth of the day still lingers.
As I drink coffee on my deck, facing the wall,
Lost in the beauty of nature's fingers.
The golden haze of the summer's eve
Wraps around me as a gentle breeze,
I feel at peace, content, and free to leave.
At this moment, it's just me and the trees.
Rewards of my efforts are not material gain,
But in futile pleasures after a lot of pain.
The colors, the scents, the tranquility
All the riches that money cannot lability.
As the sun dips below the horizon, sublime.
And the sky turns a tapestry of pink and purple.
I am reminded of the preciousness of time.
The wonder that fills us all serves to interpel.
So I raise my cup of hot coffee.
Toasting to the joys of summer's end,
To the chores that have been completed,
And the rewards that nature sends
Personas have limits, boundaries veiled by the thin masquerade of pretense
They whisper promises of identity, yet crack under pressure of reality's weight—poet
She puts on her face while vaping smoke surrounds,
Carefully paints fishtail eyes , studs, and crimson lips,
satin scarfs around hug her hips
Bindi adorned when with the Janes
A sterling nose ring pierces a membrane
Azure pools of light inserted—contact’s atop
wistful deeper dark reddish brown longing lens
Riffles through a cosmetic bag,
Faberge`a final touch then off she struts
Spinning the roulette wheel in random realms
Burned through one persona after another
The mask worn smothers
Charcoal tears pour down her cherry cheeks
Personas have their limitations
Reinventions only break the tiresome tensions
Infinite shades of pale, anemic, listless
Darker are the shadows that deem
Her skin is frail, weakness fills a ship and torn it’s sail
Though her wit retains its cutting edge
out on the ledge an empty soul on trial
Tragic trends suit her
Charcoal tears won’t save her
Metamorphosis’s demise, elusive unmasked
Limited are the bounds of weakness,
Marie-Thérès Picasso’s golden muse
hung herself after his death
Now a frozen memory in the dark daze
as nothing else remains its love’s myth
She played the games we may or not resist
Gone those days frozen in merciless mist
where fate awaits
*Image from my family collection.
My First Hour
*Mom's hospital bed/private room
There
straight quite yond, mom's free passage
where
blooms dyed green, tied like their leaves
fair
and smooth, our cloudless ceiling
share
the calm, all creatures outside.
*Lineage sorted
Pare
down the clock, the hour has turned
heir
flanked, poor lamb, by who came first
square
knows naught, the angst, to be last
fare
advanced; one-thirty a.m.
*Maternity Ward
Ne'er
will be, the call for kindling
their
task met and was set to go
care,
a pretense all hearts needed
err,
a cost most try to forget.
*Our beginning
Stare,
a phase of life unconcerned
they're
quaint and fresh, trades look of glee
hair
dangled free, blend reddish-brown
bare
one's head, naught bald but unmeshed.
*Dad
Share
those idle hands for a while
rare
times be, the grand breadwinner
chair
uneased released one's venture
Bear
satisfied, one's heart pumps free.
*Actual Labor Day ended
Blare
distant sonance, the hour bring
flare
fleets nigh, so wake naught slept sky
swear
Heaven's gift wields the best plan
spare
the rod ... in time you'll know why.
*Blissful Hawaiian solace
Air
gasp bristled lungs, constants smiles
dare
frisks prod tum, in lieu of toys
pair
mother and son blessed premier
prayer ...
mom for her son ... to God.
2021 August 18
*1st Place*
A BRIAN STRAND you choose
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2021 August 18
While traveling at warp speed on the Enterprise
Captain Kirk came across a pleasant surprise
He came upon the planet Poetron
Where the written word was spawned
So Scottie beamed him down
To see what he could find
The planet had a reddish brown
surface, and with letters it was mined
The captain stepped on a vowel
And immediately he started to rhyme
But as he began to spell
The letters turned into slime
And Kirk began to sink into a soupy grime
But Scottie managed to beam him up in time
And the captain became a poet in his prime
Uhuru seemed to like his poetic lines
But Spock was not so inclined
And Bones thought he had lost his mind
But everything turned out fine
Then at warp speed he headed off to adventures new
To a strange planet called Haiku
Joseph May
Theme: Kirk becomes a poet
AUTUMN WINTER'S SPRING
Burnt umber reddish brown bronze
Folic tree leaves on the grounds autumn
Chestnut smoky topaz
Cracklings of fallen autumns spring summer camp fires
Springs crickets sings flowing grassed sway in the morning spring breeze
Drops drip, drip, drip water plops the drip, drip drip drops of water rains be
Burnt umber grand ma’s turkey
Reddish brown bronze pumpkin/sweet potato pie
Chestnut smoky topaz golden brown cornbread
Like marshmallows burnt umber
Feels warm furnace reddish brown bronze embracement
Like Chestnut smoky topaz
What colors can do, Embraceable Hues
3/21/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2023©