Whimsical wishes for springtime fun
Eager to tan my skin in the yellow sun
Emerald kite bounces beneath blue sky
Kissing white clouds as red birds fly by
Elegant art of painters poets photographers
Nuanced views in pretty pictures and words
Dancing on pupils and in every ear heard
Camuto and Camittio were both concerned
what they had learned was subjected to
affordment
Tuxedos match, designs were scratched and
Fabrics and materials were said to be meager
Models displayed skits were made photographers
Guaked in wonder
Purple the theme
Success the dream
Marvolous the team
As audiences applauded
In amazement
"Love" the theme of the night
While likenment took flight
Oh so what then does this
Gaze meant
He's aroused by her in the dress
and Masculine must confess
She's gorgeous and her presences
Makes all men wish she were his
Inviting nature lovers with glee
Welcoming toward freedom where they can flee
Bone beach exudes grand artistic worth
Amidst mother Earth’s radiating mirth.
Serene in its mystical tranquil delight
While seemingly enigmatic for artifacts’ sight
Bone beach oozes with attention gain
Along its offered fascinating terrain.
As paradise for photographers in their posting zest
Designed wondrously, marked by creativity’s best
Showcasing archeological beauty as treasure
Bone beach is a place I want to visit with pleasure.
On a warm summer evening
as stillness settles on the turquoise lake
a solitary golden tree stands
expanding it's arms outward
the trees on the shoreline remain
still coated and covered in green
not wanting to change with the season
the golden leaves visual
on the smooth surface of the lake
reflecting like a half baked sun
a round glowing golden figure
nature's beauty captured
is a photographers dream.
The time is now, a battle is at hand
To complete my mission, and reach my end
Reaching the top of that mountain, I acsend
My camera and I ready, to conquer the land
To imagine the view, at the top of the peak
it seems impossible to reach, with all my might
I see enemies ahead, but this part of the fight
For I dont fear the battle, to get what I seek
I prepare my camera, for I am close to the top
Dread begins to creep, as the view is exposed
But i will not tremble, my mind is composed
I are am to close to my goal to simply stop
As I reach my destination, I set my gear in place
The scene itself is perfect, from left to right
Everything in its place, the subject is in sight
I see through my camera, to the open space
It is finally time, I Iift the camera to position
At the perfect moment, I hit the shutter
My mind is now clear, in my heart I feel a flutter
For I won the battle, and completed my mission
The eagles have long left,
scattered over miles; empty plastic bottle,
condoms and diapers.
Here under a burning sun
human traffickers do not imply a rush-hour.
Death is imported, life degraded.
They come from all over the world,
mostly men of military age,
and no one asks why?
Whole families come,
they are bussed away at night,
to be forgotten amidst more teeming masses.
An old man
rides his bike, grins, waving a hand
at a gaggle of press and photographers.
There are still no eagles.
An old woman holds bloodied hands to her face
A child cries in the rubble
A mother rocks her mangled child
Children cling to the nothingness of fear
Assassins congratulate each other
Dancing beneath bloodied “flags”
Well-dressed politicians pontificate
Photographers “capture” the moment
Knowing – “there are no rules of war”
The sun slides as do fingers on the smooth surface of satin
below the horizon in silent surrender as surly clouds creep
across the scarlet and purple sky from the south
their mumbling and grumbling reverberating off the rooftops
Tonight I will see no stars twinkling like a billion fireflies in jars
Lightning resembling the forked tongues of serpents taste the air
Bursts of bright white like the flashes of photographers’ cameras
capturing a moment frozen forever in time illuminate the walls
through the single window of my bedroom while I write
wondering what the weather is like in London at this hour
if you might be dreaming of a storm somewhere
Lights Camera Action
Photographers Pictures
It's doable
But I had enough
Of everyone forcing their idea
Of a beautiful woman on me
Do anybody care what I want
I would rather go outside
In a big white baggy sweatsuit
After I purposely drop food all over the front
I want to go outside sock less
Walking on the back of my new retro sneaks
Screaming you can't beat me
Then jump over my husband's head
Before I slam dunk
I want to sit on the steps and skip the chair
Like I did back in the day
I can't even front
And most of the time
I like drinking out of the bottle
Instead of with a straw
Sipping watered down
Strong brown liquid out of a cup
Elegant Emerald
It’s a people’s paradise
A rehab retreat
An elegant “Emerald”
Green carpet
At our feet
Trojan Swans
Cross the pond
Ferrying Families, Nostalgian’s
And Photographers
Strong
It’s all mine
And yours
Ours…
I think I love that most…
The sharing
With sharing comes caring
With caring…
Love
I see that all here…
I do
I love Boston
I love Boston Public Garden
I love you…
Bill MacEachern
09/30/2021
Best man, maid of honor,
Father of the bride.
Toss the bouquet and the garter,
Groomsmen on the side.
In-laws, photographers, caterers…
Don’t forget to tip the waiters.
DJ stage, reception hall,
Gold bands, first dance, pillar to post….
And now a toast:
Here’s to prideful selfishness and petty vanities.
Those rocks and shoals can wreck your ship.
Suspicions will harbor resentment
And threaten your future contentment.
Be careful as you navigate your way.
Here’s to unresolved childhood issues
And deep-seated jealousies.
They can sabotage your happiness
And lead to endless miseries.
Beware these hidden dangers every day.
Here’s to poor communication
And a lack of empathy.
Emotional projections
That highlight imperfections…
The disrespect that only leads to tears.
Here’s to blissfulness and diligence,
Tolerance and vigilance,
Wedding rings and lovers’ knots,
Champagne and caveats.
Cheers!
Two horses share the acre of pasture--
A proud Arabian, now a gelding,
Who sired seven stately champions, stands
Elegantly while I snap his picture.
The other one, a thirty-two-year-old
With a sagging back, stands waiting to die--
A three times national champion stud
With honors--ribbons and trophies galore
Moving slowly toward the feeding trough
No longer poses for photographers.
written June 14, 2021
Driving down the old sand road
headlights shade potholes in the dark
Drive slowly with your precious load
to the bus stop where we park
Back on the sand and heading home dark skies shading to greys
pastel hues foretell the sun
Twilight gives way with brilliant blinding rays
a bright dawn it has begun
Now those dusty dark roads with all their flaws
as dull as dull can be
Magically transformed with reflected light
as bright as the sun on sea
Silhouette life on rainbow skies
photographers dream birth of a new day
Birdlife abounds this old sand road
watch quietly as they play
Its lighter now crystal skies so blue
and I’ve finally reached my gate
Lift club can be dull that is true
but I simply cannot wait
24.05.21
We see what we want to see poetry contest
Rhyme
Sponsored by Daniel Turner
The photographers
watch the sunrise from the beach
as they start to click.
I love Canada for her wintry show,
the red-breasted robins in trees;
and fresh fallen white in a wild meadow,
forests caressed by a cold breeze;
serene ice rivers and streams that still flow !
We have aged primeval forests of snow,
winter water colored sunsets;
and magpie birds who sing a song of woe,
I live with the snow- no regrets;
and red cardinals hang on while winds blow !
High white draped mountain peaks cast a shadow,
while north winds kiss the boreal;
photographers take a nature photo.
look at- in books pictorial;
I love it when filigree flakes fall slow !
I love it when the flakes dance to and fro,
so magical and enchanting;
in the still calm I can just let it go,
but the deep snow leaves me panting;
oh, wish it would snow in each tomorrow !
_________________________
November 8, 2020
Poetry/Quintain-Sicilian/Canadian Winter Scenes
Copyright Protected, ID 11-1303-358-08
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the contest, Quintain - Sicilian
sponsor, Emile Pinet
First Place
Sub Categories
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