Written November 11, 2025, for contest sponsored by Brian Strand
****************
Screen glow
Slow throw
Burnout
Turn out
Workload
Cloud road
Ping pong
Yawn song
Zoom call
Moonfall
Grindstone
Dreambone
Clock face
Soft grace
Task list
Kiss missed
Push pull
Hush lull
Bedtime
Head climb
When shawn
Mows lawn
Jim starts the day with good intention
Jobs need doing that require his attention.
The garden needs a good sprucing up
His vegetation 'triffids' are running amok.
He mows the lawn, trims the hedges,
Creates those nice, neat lined edges.
Weeds the borders, deadheads the flowers,
Feeds the plants their nutritional powers.
The hard soil is dug, ready and prepped
To sow the seeds for home grown veg.
Must not forget to prune back the tree
A labour of love is what it can be.
Hours of work that seemed never ending
His body and limbs, stretching and bending.
Sun burnt skin, his head now aches
Back is killing him, so takes a break.
Joints and muscles moan and groan
Weeds now gone are finally dethroned.
Jim's bones applaud with clicks and cracks
His badge was the sting when a wasp attacked.
Admiring his garden that he has served
His body felt it carried every ache in the world.
The thing Jim will remember and quickly did learn
To wear factor fifty to avoid the sunburn.
29.08.24
‘One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: That word is love.’
- Sophocles, Oedipus at Colonus
While we’re in the vertiginous first throws
of being in love, Cupid across bows
fired seemingly randomly, finding rows
of fertile soil for life’s troubles—pain mows.
People eager to throw caution to t’ wind,
immersed in the unknown, they often sinned.
The hasty promises will be rescind;
impossible dreams reluctantly binned.
There’s no more excruciating pain, true,
than unrequited love—it leaves us blue.
Mesmerised by couples seemingly through
mutual understanding: trust accrue.
We’ve been loved; given freely of our love.
We are rich beyond measure and above.
Sometimes I find myself inside
A mind of happy man
Who does everything all right
Much better than I can
He has a house by the sea
Breathing coastline air
There he sits, with book and tea
In his garden chair
I can read his book and smell
Cigarette he lits
What a funny little dwell
Is his mind of wits
He mows thouroughly his lawn
Doing what he can
Never in my life I’ve known
Such a happy man
He won’t know about me
And he wouldn’t find
That sometimes this world I see
Through his happy mind.
neighbors dogs fenced in
run about the yard and play
can't come out on the road
they play ball and fetch
follow owner when he mows
wait at their back door
me eye be
...buzz'n...
the present as a
...pre sent...
moment that mows
...meant shuns...
of its very being then
...sews them...
to gather this moments
...tear ease now...
passing instant seconds when
...me watch is finally wound...
stan sand
When Shawn
Mows lawn
15th November 2022
Kids shout,
“School’s out!”
So soon,
it’s June.
July,
temp’s high.
Kids play
all day.
Ump’s call:
“Foul ball.”
Grass grows.
Dad mows.
Sun’s hot.
Pool’s not.
Rest time,
sublime
Mom’s made
Kool-Aid
Childhood,
so good
June 1, 2022
entered in a Brian Strand Premiere Choice Contest Placed 6th
November comes to a whimpering close
No harangues of wind or blustery snows,
Rather hopefully I watch as autumn goes
Thinking of wreaths and Christmas bows
The airwaves are filled with holiday shows
Elves are on the shelves, everyone knows,
Holiday parties where hard liquor flows
Reminds me I forgot to wind up the hose
But Mama has brought out heavier throws,
The yard is through with its seasonal mows
November sees the last of the pink rose,
And heavy socks now cover my chilly toes.
written November 28, 2021
What do you feel
If you’re six feet two
And you sit on the porch
While your wife mows the lawn?
What are your thoughts
When you can’t stand up
Without having someone to help?
How does it feel inside
When you try to walk
But you can’t and find
You need your wheelchair?
When you have to have help
To dress and undress,
To put on your coat and mittens?
How demeaning is it
To have someone change
Your underwear
And wash your private parts?
The caregiver’s life isn’t easy,
But she doesn’t suffer every day
With a loss of pride and dignity
The other man's grass always seems greener.
Seems the sun shines much brighter for him.
His house is much better, his clothes are much finer,
No wonder he struts and he grins.
He has a good job, he drives a fine car,
His wife is a raving beauty.
His children are smart, well mannered, behaved,
Even his dog is a cutie.
His life seems so pleasant, a river of pleasure.
He never has cause for concern.
My life however is a constant struggle.
All that I have was hard earned.
My house is a shack, my grass is just weeds,
My wife is a nagging shrew.
My children are stupid, ill mannered indubit,
My dog is a mongrel too.
I sit here and sulk and look over the fence,
And envy the likes of him.
His wife brings him a cooling drink,
As he mows and rakes and tends.
He's always so busy, he makes me dizzy.
Where does he get it all.
Whatever he touches turns to gold.
It's all at his beck and call.
He seems so happy with all that he has,
And works hard to keep it that way.
I would be too if I had his luck;
But I don't so what can I say.
I kept the stegosaurus hidden because I do not trust neighbors
They call if the cat jumps over the fence
Police have been here twice about me putting my garbage out
ten minutes early
I bought Steggie off a pirate who did not have much background information
I do not care; he is the best-behaved pet I have ever had
He mows the lawn, and he does not hop all over people like the baby goats did.
The neighbors were always calling about those two!
What do you have back there? My great aunt Louisa asked, peeking out the window.
I said, "fat dog".
All I need is a bunch of newspaper reporters tromping around.
When you live like a hoarder, it’s best to keep your stegosaurus a secret.
That way, he can come inside when the weather gets colder
And the health department will be none the wiser.
“What a pretty dog!” Aunt Louisa said, calming my fears.
No mower today
The silence is beautiful
Perfect warm weather
I wonder about neighbor
Usually mows daily
But pandemic keeps me back
I love this non- mowing sound
Color me Douglas Fir Green;
I feel so feathery-branched.
My constitution is supreme;
My core competes with oaks.
I was built to last and stand tall;
I cannot say as well of cousin spruce.
Taken for granted;
the human species, mows me down;
I become boxes for habitation.
My strength is a human weakness;
Over time, I’ll disappear,
I must to shelter my nemesis.
The human species uses my kind;
we can’t defend against
their growling weapons.
Humans build deadly weapons,
They’ll eat right through my soul;
I am only a defenseless tree.
12-28-19
I am a tree Poetry Contest
Delilah Ventura
Drizzle
August-6-2016
This morning started with a soothing drizzle,
Not enough to quench yard’s ravenous thirst.
By sunrise this rainfall was beginning to fizzle,
And I was left praying for a real cloudburst.
We got only enough to make the grass grow,
A blessing for the person who mows the lawn;
Giving him opportunity to make some dough,
While I enjoy the cool and let thoughts spawn.
Tom
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