Long Stick on Poems
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I was cleaning our roof the other day…when I ran across something odd….
growing out of some moss on our roof…was a single goldenrod.
I love goldenrods for their bright yellow color…but that’s not all…
I love how they’re nature’s way of announcing
summer’s almost over and we’re heading for the Fall.
I also love how they’re a symbol of good luck…
and how their medicinal uses have been broad.
but on the roof I remembered the story
of the very first goldenrod:
An old woman was walking in a dark forest one night…
she was exhausted and confused…
She asked the tress for a branch to help her walk
but every tree refused.
When a small neglected stick on the ground
Said, “I’ll do my best to support you.
If you make me your walking stick
I’ll be happy to escort you.”
When they emerged from out the forest…
the old woman set the little stick next to a tree…
then said, “I am actually a fairy princess….
and I’d like to thank you for helping me…
She smiled then sprinkled that stick with gold dust
as the sun illuminated the early morn…
and because of that fairy’s magic
the first goldenrod was born.
It is a beautiful story…
Do I believe it’s true?
Do I believe a stick can be transformed
into a flower with a yellow hue?
I do!
Because standing proudly before me
was absolute and positive proof….
a descendant of the very first goldenrod
growing on our roof.
Photo of you I posted in my heart
Drives, dribbles me in the court that count
Logos I stick on my shirt
Faces of you that mount
Memories of you I treasure
Frequencies I feel and hold
Selfies you share with me so cool
Breaths of me that fold
Our pictures in me, I keep
Smiles we keep and lift
Night or day we dip
Our lips too far that drift
One day, you left and I pout
Days passed, I waited for you
You who forgot to send a note
And blaming me, not you
Upon your return you snobbed me
Acting like a kid and mimed at me
Photos of you and me I showed
Posted on a high wall...
in the mall where you met me!
Piles upon piles of dust and mold
Gather in a large closet up in the attic,
Where junk of memorabilia resides
Untouched for years as I scan the heap
Of treasures accumulated: a prom's corsage
At 17, shelves of dresses, high-heels that
Tell me now I have grown four sizes larger!
Paperbacks circa 1980, eaten by bugs
from a Literature nerd in grade school...
Journals theater souvenirs looking like
Fossilized antiques from medieval ages,
Along with broken Parker pens and oil
Tubes defying a frustrated artist,
With drawers of lace, beads, threads
As glue guns ( in yellow) stick on interior- design
Folders: then to reach out for music records;
Dollars saved in a jar as a novice in advertising:
Oh the thongs , underwear kept in cedar boxes--
A vision of dates with sleek metro princes,
Discoing on till they turn into wimpy frogs...
How chlorine scent jams my nostrils as I clear
The unwanted pile-- mounds of pile that
Stain my dingy face my hair a rocker's mop.
Die as I flood you with ammonia !
Not the keepsakes...but those stinking fungi!
3/2/2017
Unwanted Guest Contest
Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
Reminiscing and full of nostalgia
looking back over the years
A life full of joy and laughter
though some occasional tears
But no real regrets
Oh, maybe just one
For at this time of year
to my mind it doth come
So why before I die
have I never been to Glastonbury
watching from my old armchair
wishing it was me
wishing I was there
For despite
the rain
the mud
the loos
euphoria is all I see
with babes in arms
and sixties hippies
this place I really I want to be
sitting here full of joie de vivre
To see those happy hippy souls
festooned
bejewelled
leaves me beguiled
their visage truly says it all
they dance and sway the night away
a fantasy world of music and colour
this place is truly like no other
It’s never too late for me
to visit Glastonbury ~ my guilty pleasure
donning my happy hippy attire
strategically placing my stick- on tattoos
I turn up the volume ~ I'm ready to go
So singing and dancing the whole night through
at dawn ~ as I wipe the sleep from my eyes
I’m enjoying the luxury of my very own loo…
Written on 28th June 2019 – the first day of Glastonbury Festival
3rd PLACE
Contest: YOUR CHOICE SEASONS-FESTIVALS VERSE ,any form,any theme
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Happiness on dew in disguise
Tries to stick on drooping grass close
Waits for the golden sun to rise
On the heart's horizon morose.
The colors of ecstasy grow
Happiness on dew in disguise
The depressed mind would surely know
When sparkling touch it applies.
Grass won’t know what sorrows comprise
If joy from dew doesn’t alight
Happiness on dew in disguise
Soaks the sun, glows in inner light.
Let the mind retain the shine bright
From darkest gloom it would devise
Joy of living that would ignite
Happiness on dew in disguise.
October 18, 2017.
Form : Quatern. Syllable count : 8 each line.
Thank you for your input. I appreciate the time you have spent.
Trying to fix me, to mold me, to make me better.
Some of your suggestions are wonderful.
I shall consider them, pondering them over and over.
I will throw them into the air and toss them around with my feet.
Some will stick on the ceiling where they will stay forever.
Others will land on my head.
I will comb them into my updo and parade them around town.
I will show the world how helpful you have been.
People will write you thank you notes.
I will put them all into a satchel and carry them to you.
If you live far away, I will mail them.
Please send me your address pronto.
Contest Judged by a Jury of Your Peers
Sponsor: Mark Koplin
Written 11-11-2020
Oh gosh, what memories pancakes brings back to me …
As a child I used to make them every week for my dad
He adored them but I never ate them! It’s been many years since I made them
Lets see if I can remember the recipe for the batter
Carefully weigh out 4 oz plain flour, add in ¼ teaspoon salt
Sieve this into a bowl. Make a well in the center
Then carefully add three medium sized eggs
Do make sure they are fresh and you scoop out any bits of shell
You don’t want to find anything crunchy in your pancakes!
Use a hand whisk or electric whisk to incorporate the eggs then
Gradually add ½ pint milk (or milk and water combined)
Whisk until you have a silky smooth batter with no lumpy bits
Now the important thing is to put the batter in the fridge
Leave it to rest as long as possible ideally at least ½ hour
Then you need a medium sized frying pan, drizzle in a little cooking oil
Heat the pan until it is fairly hot but not smoking
You don’t want to have clouds of acrid smoke and have to ring the fire brigade!
Pour in a little of the batter It will start to sizzle and splutter
Tip the pan to spread the batter and make a thin coating
Cook until the underside of the pancake is golden brown
And the top is covered with bubbles
Now comes the fun bit…
You can simply flip the pancake over to cook the other side
BUT if you are daring you can try tossing it in the air …
hoping it doesn’t stick on the ceiling!
Disaster can strike if the pancake misses the pan and ends up on the floor…
I was never brave and always flipped the pancake over
Once the pancake is golden brown on both sides slide it onto a warm plate
My dad always ate them sprinkled with sugar and zesty lemon juice
But you can use any topping you desire even savoury ones
Dad would roll his pancake and eat it in slices
Whilst he was eating the first pancake
I would continue cooking until the batter was used up
I’d make sure I added a little oil before cooking each one
You don’t want them to stick
If you are making a batch of pancakes you can cover them
Put them in a warm oven until you have finished making them all
Enjoy!
Contest:-Didactic Food
Sponsor: Tammy Reams
10~07~15
In photo albums of the past,
The pictures stayed in place
With little stick-on corners
That today you can’t replace.
The albums after that had pages
That you had to lift;
The photos rested under plastic,
‘Til they’d start to shift.
I have a bunch of those, with pages
Turning brown or loose.
Instead of getting them in shape,
I find a good excuse.
When I’m no longer here, those pictures
Likely will get tossed.
Those moments captured by a lens
Will finally be lost.
So even if my albums are
Intact, with full repair,
I seem to be the only person
Who might really care.
My recent photographs are kept
In books I make online.
I choose the backgrounds and the fonts –
Each masterpiece is mine.
But someday they will, too, be gone
As memories do fade.
Until that time, my albums all
Are front-row-seat displayed.
Your face over candles and crystals
Your scent I smell, stick on murals
Finger prints of you over metals
Turning hard to soft like petals
I saw you kneeling when you prayed
Behind you was I and stayed
I can hear your soft voice unafraid
Wishing for a cat unbraid
The candles you litted inside the church
Served as my lights when you left
Your shoe prints on the aisle I search
Vanished like air without a cleft
I sat down for a while
Wishing you would come back
Minutes later you came back
Walking like Immortal over the scratched aisle
Middle aisle of the church so old
With you turning anything like gold
Your prayers are like magic so bold
Reviving with warmth everything around so cold
My immortal is in you that calls
My body and soul that falls
Wished you can be mine someday
Dreaming you're all mine all day!
To bring a bit of happiness to my soul
I’ve got to sing along to a little rock n’ roll
Don’t try and tell me it’s all out of date
Elvis is still rocking, Eddie Cochran's' blues were great
When I need to bring rhythm to this body of mine
I listen to the soul of motown it sounds divine
Sweet soul music with a dash of R and B
It brings a smile to my face these classics of history
Just to sweeten up those memories of mine
I’ll play something soft that throws me back in time
Smooching to the music in pure harmony
Takes me to another place romantically
If I want to get funky and really get on down
I put on the Godfather yeah’ James brown
With lots of movements I start to swing
It’s a whole new dance a totally wild thing
Depending on my taste of musical tunes
I'll Play something to ease my musical moods
Because they bring life into my musical soul
I'll stick on that jazz by Nat King Cole
© Copyright KC.Leake
22nd November 2014
All Rights Reserved