Long Stair Poems
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Behin' bared doors, beneath yer floors,
in cozy dens and caverns deep
y'll find me der down under de stair
where gutter rats scamper and silverfish sleep.
"Who can I be, hmmmm let me see.
I be a thief Good Grief!"
On to Ol' Town's docks walks Goldylocks
decked in de heights a fashion
in 'er purse I peeks, I rummage, I sneaks
discoverin' coin for me passion!
Den off to de park fer another mark,
I grimace and frown appearin de clown
Whilst signin' for de gang we makes a plan
ta break all de rules in de 'ole damn town.
Soon der's a tussel wid all of dis muscle
den me fingers kin creep in 'is pockets deep
grabbin' the loot I's trained ye see
yet, what I find i donna na keep.
Who can I be, hmmmm let see,
I be a thief Good Grief!
At Marchant's Oak near Fayrin's rest
Down forest paths,through high grass
I stalk de traders, cause I loves dem best
Why let me see who can I be so crass?
Who can I be, hmmmm let see,
I be a thief Good Grief!
But surin what I find I will na keep
Dough stealing be me duty,
I'll give ye back whats in yer pack
Fer I be an Honorable beauty.
And if per chance ye needs a hand
Wid opening treasure boxes cutie..
Donna get smart wid some other tart
who'll walk off wid yer booty!
Just 'ave a cheer fer I be 'ere
~Honoravillana at yer duty!
Dis 'err piece a work be dedicated to de Raven ‘aired beauty
name of Constance La France
Clarence Stone stepped into the saloon,
Tired from long days on the trail.
He was riding on west to far Idaho,
Where land awaited, spacious and hale.
He was fleeing a feud that had consumed
The families of Burton and Stone.
Rather than die for an old hate,
He had set out with all that he owned.
Inside the bar one thing he did espy:
A woman beautiful and tanned,
With flowing black hair and emerald eyes,
Dressed in the jeans of a man.
Why such a woman was here, he didn’t know,
But she clearly seemed to belong.
She tossed back whiskey and joined the choir
Of the men’s raucous, cow-punching songs.
Stone went for a drink, and sat at the bar
Planning out the rest of his night,
When a man shouted ‘cheat,’ and all sprung up
The saloon gave itself over to fight!
Stone swung as they came, holding his own,
And the woman just off to his right,
Danced and dodged, kicked and swung,
Shrieking loudly her delight…
But her speed failed, and job it got through,
She stumbled, fell back to the floor.
So bold Clarence charged, bull-rushed the man,
Who whimpered and cried out,’No More!’
He helped the girl up, but she grabbed his neck,
And slammed him into a deep kiss.
She broke with a grin, and turned to the fray
Saying,’Come on! Let’s go finish this!’
Ten minutes later they both stumbled out
Sweaty with hard-fought victory.
Stone tried to move off, but she grabbed his wrist
Saying,’Oh No! You’re not done with me!’
They went to her hotel, hurried and hot
And up the grand stair-case did tear.
I won’t go into detail on what happened next,
For a gentleman doesn’t go there…
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Burned my wings on a neon sun,
Too bright to love, too fierce to run.
Angels talk like kings of war,
Locked in gold behind white doors.
I wore the light but it felt like chains,
Sweet-smiled ghosts that sang of pain.
Wine of silence, food of lies,
I watched truth choke in holy skies.
So I climbed down that spiral stair,
To where the fire taints the air.
Hell’s halls whisper in red and black,
But I found no soul to watch my back.
Demons dance with preacher’s grace,
No shadows left for me to face.
Ice on skin, fire in my bones,
Screams felt carved in marble tones.
This isn’t sin—it’s symmetry,
A mirror cracked with dignity.
They promise heat, they promise cold,
But never the heart, just silver and gold.
So where’s the ground for a soul like mine?
A storm of flesh, a bloodline spine.
Not too bright, not fully damned,
I ride the rift with empty hands.
Spit out from grace, laughed out from sin,
I draw my blade and breathe within.
If heaven’s flames burn fake and clean,
And hell’s ice hides a guillotine—
Then I will walk where no foot goes,
Between the thorns and shadowed prose.
A crown of ash, a throne of rust,
I’ll build my truth from bone and dust.
Heaven is too hot for me—and hell’s too cold to trust.
I watch him from across the hall
He has no knowledge I'm here at all
He casually saunters past my door
Along the polished squeaky floor
He jokes with friends, I hear his laugh
I even have his photograph
I watch him from across the way
He does not know how long I'll stay
How long I'll wait to see his face
How long I'll hide here in this place
He turns my way, but does not see
Caught up in his frivolity
I watch him going down the stair
Hiding in a new found lair
I listen to his heartbeat flutter
He finally sees and starts to stutter
The bleakness of the sharpened blade
His face a picture, so afraid
I get impatient waiting now
The time to take my final bow
The plotting done, the plan in motion
He'll get to see my true devotion
Idling the time away
Until I take him down as prey
Every day
I walked by the dead cockroach on
The second floor’s third stair.
I was out of breath by the sixth.
On the eighth I’d stop,
And wait until my heart slowed.
I'd step out.
How was his night?
Emesis? Pain?
Did he sleep?
Evening would roll around.
I'd walk by the clock stuck at 4:52.
The elevators were faster where time’d stopped.
Go home. Eat. Sleep.
Kiss my wife and steal some cuddles.
Try to remember how to relax.
Every night is sleep without peace
Every morning,
Get up without rest,
And do it all again.
Then we changed cities.
I still get up tired.
Still shower, alone.
Now, I am always alone.
Drive empty roads to a nearly full garage.
My body moves because it must.
I gave up the stairs.
Here I take the elevator.
Time really did stop--
And all the elevators are fast.
Walk in gently so not to rouse him.
Set up. Start work.
When he wakes, ask the same questions.
How was your night?
Did you sleep?
Was there pain?
Work alone while he sleeps.
In the evening
I go home through an empty garage
And full streets.
Then collapse exhausted.
Sleep alone, and without rest.
I've made every decision to avoid this empty life
Except the one most abhorrent.
I'm alone because I refuse to stop loving.
I ache in the solitude where my family isn't.
To be with one who's sick
Or be with my wife and family who aren't.
Yet always missing the other.
Big Brother
My big brother is someone special.
He knows how to make you laugh.
He fears nothing,
even the darkness under the bed,
or the evil monster in the closet.
He is ready,
he is steady...
he is there for me.
Everyone should have a big brother,
everyone needs one for sure.
They are there for splinter removal,
and/or bike repair...
they will chase you up,
and then down...
the stair.
Bullies never stood a chance,
the brick wall always showed right up.
He was taller by a foot than all the rest.
No one ever wanted to put him...
to the test.
I am all grown up now,
as that happens.
I still need him,
my big brother, after all...
Yet he is gone,
and I must muttle,
but that is okay too,
as he would laugh...
at the way I futtle.
Only four stairs to ascend!
And with a broken leg on the mend?
It felt like a wet noodle.
Or more aptly, hot Stroodle .
Hanging on to that railing for dear life,
As though we were husband and wife.
With a six foot grandson at the top of the
stairs.
My daughter below, in case I flop like a
gigantic Black bear!
Determined as heck to see my dear cat.
By the time, I reached the top, I was
Feeling as a dead rat.
By then, I wanted to walk on my own
floors.
Which were as difficult to maneuver
as rotted out, warped doors!
Nothing at all felt good nor right to me,
Til I saw my calico cat trotting over....
whoopee!
Those calico colors , so sundae like!
I heard her joke and whisper so softly..
“ Hello, Mountain Mike! “
She asked questions, that nobody could hear.
She purred so sweetly, “Hello, Mommy, dear!
Then, Irene, asked, “ When are you coming
back home?
Two months alone is far too long for any cat
daughter to roam!”
I simply had no answer to give!
The pain so intense, I thought I had not
long to live.
So, I promised her, I was doing my best!
And her Mom, Mountain Mike, would be
returning for another stair test.
Till one day, our lives would be as they
once serenely once were.
Writing poetry, waiting for spring and
petting her glistening fur.
Pondering the moon, with her paws
about my neck.
‘Tis heaven for me on this earth, for
without you, Irene, life makes no sense,
and is but a torturous wreck!
Dedicated to Irene, my dear cat!
Missing you,
Mom
Special Acknowledgment to:
Am Gilmore, my thoughtful friend who has
penned eloquent poems about my cat, Queen Irene.
Ann is an outstanding and loving friend, everyday!
Thanks, Ann
And to my daughter, Elena, who is my 24 hour a
day caregiver, 7days a week.
I do not know how she does it!
And thanks to Eddie, who helped with
the stairs. Congrats on your high GPA
Mom and Grandother
12/8/2022
I went to a wild Halloween party on a dark night,
with a guy dressed up like a Knight.
I was a British Queen fit for a golden throne,
but, by the end- my crown I had thrown.
I danced with a man who had a tail,
and others- that will make a nice tale.
I was approached by a man quite pasty pale,
later, in the evening I was sick in a pail.
A bit wobbly I lost my balance on a stair,
and tumbled as everyone there stopped to stare.
So, I went looking for my "him,"
and found my Knight singing a hymn.
I just waited for the end standing by his side,
but, it went on and on- as I mumbled and sighed.
By this time . . . my feet were in pain,
I was sure they would shatter like a window pane.
Angry and frustrated I looked at my cache,
and for a taxi home I have just enough cash.
So, I fled that Halloween party without being seen,
'cause, I just had to get away from that awful scene.
I slurred my address loudly for the taxi driver to hear,
and finally by some miracle I am finally here.
Safe and sound in my lovely, cozy, quiet home,
or as a proper British Queen would say hom.
______________________
October 13, 2022
Poetry/Homephone Rhyme/Wear What and Go Where
Copyright Protected, ID 10-1494-218-13
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Homephone Rhyme
sponsor, Hat Bueckert, Judged 11/13/2022
Third Place
UNRUFFLED
Citadel on the rocky mountain stair
Stood gazing changing seasons in the air
Each passing year its bosom filled with tales of plenty shades
Of Knights, of Queens, of Foes, of Prince ,Of Comrades
The twilight swallowed into aimless dusky mope
The sunrise of success, the alpenglow of hope
The defeats, the dull spell like the melancholy of autumn
The phase of loneliness, feel of sinking to the bottom
The thunderstorm’s blitzkrieg of insults, insinuations
The snowflakes of blessings, blooming love sensations
The silvery shine of moon with its healing chime
The rainbow of celebrations manifesting change of time
All these shades painted together a seasoned picture
To manifest into Unicorn with poise and graceful tincture
The reflection of which is unstirred in water crystal clear
For rifts are not let to surge , peace and purity is held dear
Internal ripples are tranquilized to welcome nights of calm
To drift the soul into peaceful slumber like a soothing balm!
~Copyright ANULAXMI, 2016~
23rd December 2016
I do not ask for much, just the last drop of honey said Baby Bear.
We gave him his wish in the bathtub and on the stair.
We gave him the last drop here and there.
We gave him the last drop everywhere.
I guess you can say that we both care,
About our baby, Baby Bear.
We give him the last drop everywhere.
Since he is an only, he does not have to share.
He is now having the last drop on the table.
He’s drinking it in front of his cousin Mable.
He can do this happily, for he is able…..
To see that she has a bunch of honey in her stable.
Just the last drop, says Baby Bear.
We give him that most everywhere.
Because we care, because we care
And because he is our Baby Bear.