There was an old man from Saratoga
Who always wore an old Roman toga
Spice of parties they’d shout
Showing bony knees he’d flout
Till he froze to death in North Dakota.
Categories:
saratoga, humor,
Form: Limerick
THREE WITCHES by James Edward Lee
Three witches, Three witches;
Riding high;
Three witches;
On heir brooms,
in the skies;
Three witches;
Three witches, why;
Soaring high;
flying by.......
Three witches
in the skies;
THE VERY FIRST POEM ALSO THE VERY FIRST COPYRIGHTED PUBLISHED
The First ever poem by James Edward Lee 6 grade 11 years old
(by James E. Lee published in Highlights for Children from Saratoga Grade
School Omaha, Nebraska October 1966 (c) )
Categories:
saratoga, adventure, analogy, autumn, celebration,
Form: Limerick
First, baptism. Next, he vowed defense for the U.S. after graduation
Really, this kid could take San Diego's boot camp
At age nine he left Belize, then worked two jobs while in high school
Now he's back in Belize with haunting of Dessert Storm -
Zestfully, he built homes, does electrical and plumbing.
The truth is, duodenal ulcer won't stop meddling
How is this Veteran to obtain benefits?
Every Honorable Veteran, deported, has his or her story.
Valley of the shadow of death was no joke
Even on the U.S.S. Saratoga, he listened, and heard God spoke
Ten plus six of his buddies, lost their lives in Dessert Storm
Even so, he defended this land he learned to love
Right now, he'd say; GOD BLESS THE U.S. OF A
At most, in Belize, folks calls him "Yankee"
Notify me how soon, my son in the U.S. can shine.
*
Categories:
saratoga, america, angel, desire, dream,
Form: Acrostic
So here I am in Saratoga,
Quite a lovely place,
But visitors must do their part
And watch the horses race.
The weather was cooperative;
The seats were in the shade.
The thoroughbreds looked just the way
That racers are portrayed.
Such fun it was to place a bet
And root with all my might.
Though winning was the icing,
I enjoyed each single bite.
I love the town of Saratoga -
Hope that I'll come back;
But if I do then once again,
You'll find me at the track.
Categories:
saratoga, horse, travel,
Form: Rhyme
When I got back to the hotel I knew there was nothing I could do to make this work for everyone. Her brother was the hit and had to go. Killing him would kill her and break my heart. Of course, she would never know it was I. But I wanted to get close to this woman. I wanted to be her man. And lies would never work. This woman was far to intuitive for me to think I could get away with killing her brother. If I didn’t kill him they would kill me. A hit man never walks away free. Only one thing to do.
I packed my bags and shipped my girl back home. This hit was not going to happen.
When I got back I slowly unpacked and put everything away. I had a night to sleep on it while I waited for my girl to return home.
The next day FedEx delivered her to me. We would meet our final destiny together. I tracked down my contact and said I wanted to meet. We setup the meeting for 3 PM at his place. When I walked I wasted him before he could say hello. I walked out the door and called Anna and asked her to marry me. Before she could answer I told her to meet me in Cuba at the Hotel Saratoga and she could decide then.
All she said was “yes.”
Categories:
saratoga, devotion, love,
Form: Narrative
Mineral Baths Saratoga Springs NY
She covers her private
parts at the bath house.
Mineral water fills a tub,
centuries old.
She feels cold until
an old Women hands
her heated sheets...
now, her skin covered.
Brought her clips to lift
her auburn hair.
The sheets cooled as the
tub, now filled.
A stray cat
peers into the window...
purrs, kissing glass.
The old Women
removes the sheet, takes
the hand of a young lady
as she carefully
steps into aged porcelain.
Tiny bubbles
surround her skin.
A soft pillow for her head...
Now, relax. . . she tells herself,
dreaming of the
cat kissing glass. . .
alone, at last.
Nancy Duci Denofio
Categories:
saratoga, animals, health, introspection, life,
Form: Narrative
Skidmore College - Bolton Hall
Saratoga morning mist
naked legs wrestle a
breeze - the living
section of the morning
paper floats freely
across patches of green
grass beneath incredible
pines. . .
Out there, beyond evergreens
drenched in morning light,
a destination, unknown
as pavement stretches
wraps, curled about broken
limbs and patches of ice. . .
A few steps left to climb
and I stip to dream, half
seeing hungry birds peeking
at a single blade of grass.
And, as I glance up
a brass sign tells me
this is Bolton Hall.
Nancy Duci Denofio - 2001
Categories:
saratoga, naturemorning,
Form: Prose Poetry
May I lift sorrow from your sunken chest
Hold your weary frown at valor’s behest
I wish these words we could have shared
My opportunity…tears from your despair
How many brethren did you lose this day
Unsung dreams lying in an unmarked grave
You fought for a life, you would never live
Your bravery an anthem, this nation your gift
You were colonial peasants, uneducated rabble at best
Outnumbered and abated, branded by a crown’s crest
Yet your courage was contagious, charging as you bled
You sacrificed your very breath, the last one I just read
I did not know, as feet swept by you like smoke filled shards
The last sight you saw, a frayed flag’s wavering call to arms
From Charlestown to Saratoga, not a single battle was won
Except this war, the birthplace of freedom’s newfound son
Was it your belief in fate, that fighting spirit of Bunker Hill
Crossing the icy night, retreating only to Washington’s will
Or was it conviction, in the heart of a martyred man
Dying for a dream, but not to be driven from his land
Categories:
saratoga, history, inspirational, introspection, loss,
Form: Dramatic Monologue