Although
it’s a hard row to hoe
a rough furrow to harrow
and a tough trench to plough
there’s many a meadow to mow
I hereby avow
and tho' it may be news to you
farmers have the need
to sow their seeds
where milkmaids milk the cows
swineherds feed their sows
and shepherds have their pie
and eat it too
in Slough now
Brutal trench battle
I am only 18, a young yearning lad
In battle I killed a man today, bashful does that make me lawfully bad
Now living day to day, guilt-ridden and far from being gay
Over the trench, not one hurried soul will less haphazardly reach a finish line
I wish it were me to just jadedly enjoy my time
You’ll forget me if I go, so for remembrance you’ll put on a show
We lived in fear and pitiful pain, where for a general it is all to gain
The fields did turn blood-red, but a new chapter so enough sorely said
A lot of body shifts by an inch,
While vengeful killer teeth they clench:
A prosecutor is addressing The Bench,
Concerning dastardly murder of a wench
By a whisky-soaked German French
Whom he’s sure could also in Vodka drench!
Shovel handy they could dig The Quickest Trench
And from Prosecutor A Talkative life wrench,
His tongue-less corpse for A Disgracing Stench …
And maximally in the next one hour,
They shall all Waiters for Justice devour
Between The Adjudged Sweet and The Thought Sour
All the fine bakery with its flour,
Because read they can the legible unfairness
And God so kind, sharp of awareness.
A giant crystalline hole
of deep ocean
water.
Adventure
for swimmers
and divers
brave !
___________________
July 5, 2021
Poetry/Verse/Crystal Ocean Trench
Copyright Protected, ID 07-1369-058-05
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
(Inspiration, Image #4 - 7 lines and 14 words)
Written for the Standard contest, Picture This 2
sponsor, Joseph May
Second Place
The gray envelops
And swallows whole.
The teeth are in the skull
And if they ever come out,
They are chewed up.
I enter the school with big wide eyes – shining bright!
Oops! My heart jumping with joy at my best friend’s sight.
Here, I begin my flight.
The prayer begins, it’s a quirky quiet.
We may try hard but eyes know their right!
As ma’am passes by, we begin the naughty ride.
We twist, we turn, we dance.
When ma’am catches us, together we plead, “Ma’am one more chance”!
In the class, on that favourite bench,
Our legs swing together and our hand in hand,
The boring books on bench and tasty tiffin underneath in the trench.
A sip of water is a perfect quench.
Stand upon the bench! Out of the class! Kneel down on your knees!
Believe us, it gives us very elated feel.
Oh Lord! Who gives us so much of zeal?
My school is my home. It’s close to my heart.
Whatever I learn here, is a nine-darter strike.
I am naughty, I am a brat. No No No! this is what I pretend.
At heart I am the sincerest student.
We've dug down deep.
We've dug our trench.
This smell of death
We wish to quench.
The mortars fall on muddy field.
The bodies mount in no mans land.
The enemies fight neither wish to yield.
For freedom we wish to stand.
The rats they feed on the rotting flesh.
On friends that have fallen.
They felt the reapers caress.
This trench is evil
It's a living hell.
Filled with the dead,
and their putrid smell.
The trench surrounded by barbed wire.
It's shrouded in mist.
Attacked with machine gun fire.
The lives that are lost.
Their sacrifice made.
We owe them a debt that can never be paid
Old men sit on city benches,
Young girls pass, ALL future wenches,
Bought and sold, wrapped up like candy
Human slaves to feelings randy,
Seniors find their skin's now forest,
Sunshine's grown a Mormon chorus.
Churches members? Cut Black faces,
Uptight segregate by races.
"Black and White?" Such simple answer!
Too bad it's just one more cancer!
Colors merged (like rainbows bending)?
Rich and poor must parse gov. spending!
All men scarred by those excluded,
Poverty is life denuded!
Excess is the spice of living,
Only winners are the giving!
Long Tooth
March 27, 2018
For we stood
For we stood out there
On a field in France
Staring straight at death in its lair
Gun in hand, battle stare
For we fought
Man on man
Bayonet or bullet, hand to hand
For we screamed and we cried
Friends are dead; biding time!
For we thought in muddy trench
Loves we’d had, memories bend!
So I survived something you’ll never see
Cries in the night, screams on the breeze
You call me a hero because I came back?
Killed so many - I can’t come back!
I raise my glass to the fallen boys and men
Buried in the ash; some my friends
With you I’ll share a drink but don’t pretend that you could ever understand the hell of men.
Mariana's Trench
what a shock to find beauty
where none can see it
------
12th February, 2016
Contest ~ Haiku 102
Sponsor ~ Nathan D
I have to wear a trench coat
To cover suit and tie
I hate that green old trench coat
I really cannot lie.
I hate the way it bags and sags
And flips and flaps around
The way the belt comes loose
And drags along the ground
That stupid belt just won’t stay put
No matter how it’s tied
It slips and snakes and sticks in doors
Oh that I can’t abide
When I get into my car
And make my way to work
Half the coat sticks out the door
Soaked in mud and dirt
I’m gonna ditch that green old coat
A truer wish I’ve never felt.
Maybe buy a gray or tan
Definitely without a belt.
the reasoning the fishing in the trenches
beyond tire swings and monkey wrenches
follies crawl behind the hanging logos
of unseen filth across 124th street
tassels dangled above an oasis
of fine dining and soiled linen
over the board rooms covered
in a mesh of purple mustard
beckoning ancient aura solid creed
coming throughout hidden rivalry
tampered with ankara's answering service
gravely time passes abaundantly
coarse and yet shunned quietly
we remember the malitia moreover
we began a new wearing gray hoodies
offering our youth to silent the storm
that brewed inside a percolator
pot of copenhagan snuff chewing tobacco
screaming a cure for cancer shall rise
over bob marley's tears as we munster up
courage a courage of faith challenged
behind the wrecking ball of ground zero
we count one more time mon
freedom will soon come
in our most sinful hope
As dusk their line visibly bows
Cropped heads beneath mounds fold
Glum shadows through addle fields row
Listless turrets sprout o'er demarcated woe
Sallowed eyes in bleary sockets rolled
As dusk their line visibly bows
Shocked ears to concussive barrage close
As sighs from clogged lungs are paroled
Raspy shadows through addle fields row
Smoldering smoke in singed heavens glows
Vaporous cloud o'er scout binoculars scrolled
As dusk their line visibly bows
Each rifle into a sterile stack goes
Rumbling caissons to dark corners doled
Steel shadows through addle fields row
The fog of war o'er dazed minds flows
An eerie wind curdles each silent mold
As dusk their line visibly bows
Wispy shadows through addle fields row
Treading lightly through snaking,
muddy trench
Squeaking boots with slippery
grooves synch
A mass of matted flesh bares its
rotten stench
Thirsting maggots, doting flies
cannot quench
No rustic accoutrements adorn, not
even a bench
Deep longing for warm touches of
caring mother, practiced wench
But only cold, rancid rain does
shriveled limbs drench
In crowded hovel, selfishly hoarding
space, miserly grinch
On the perimeter, attentively
guarding every blood-soaked inch
At the sound of concussive fire,
conditioned body doesn't flinch
Chiseled teeth in tandem solemnly
do clinch
Only my spent gut, as churning
butter does wrench
With dutiful vigor, watching every
strand of demarcated pinch
At the slightest, forward motion,
my hawk eyes squinch
I lay under the sun
all that is done
me watching dandelion
spring up from coarse earth
ginger beer is being poured
while hints of curry
arouses my senses
alarming sounds of splashes
camouflaged laughter
dangling about
thee shanty towns river banks
are lined with baskets
of raw coconuts and banana
husk a warm breeze
charmingly whispers my name
I answer nice to meet
you too mr. Kingston
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