Wandering(A) Poems

Raw Emotions Trimeric

I’ll bet on that Summer anthem,
roll those dice and take a chance;
Open my heart and try extreme, 
wandering a new venue or back road;

Roll those dice and take a chance;
So spontaneous you’re finally alive
as that sunny song sizzles the air;

Open my heart and try extreme;
Raw emotions are a roller coaster,
let yourself free fall enjoy the flight;

Wandering a new venue or back road 
in warm weather with dilated eyes,   
with each replay that rush rewinds.

Seasons of Me

Spring still knows me
Out, about and carefree,
Wandering a flower bed
Nurturing the blooms ahead 

Summer does not see
Very much of me,
Hiding behind the shades
Until the heat fades

Autumn knows me well
Standing where leaves fell,
Kicking them all around 
Wherever I am found

Winter, too, will see
Little more of me,
Crunching on icy flakes
A million smiles makes.

ODYSSEY

Ahhh… what choice do I have?
Oblivion… so overrated, as so many poets
use this word for centuries…..
Oasis… nice feel to it, but life is not an oasis.

Odyssey then… for life is an odyssey.
Life is a long wandering, a long journey.
As for me, my life is a series of experiences
that gave me knowledge, understanding,
not only of human emotions, behaviors.
It opened me to perceive and discern why
people act the way they do because of their
cultures, family dynamics and characteristics.

My own odyssey gave me the strength to
know me, my strengths and imperfections.
It gave me courage to overcome adversities
and learn from them; accept my failures and
be accountable; use my strength to work on
weaknesses and imperfections; embrace me
and be comfortable in my own skin and most 
of all be thankful, be content and be whole.

The Wordsmith

He welds and melts, pours and molds
In his "Conversations with My Soul"
He smooths the rough steel of syllables
Into a "Portrait" graced by his "Play on Words"
Unrolling "Scenes from a Countryside" to "That Starry Night"
Whether "October Skies" or "In November" "Moonlight"
So, "If Ever I Don't Know"
which way my adjectives should go
when wandering "A Starry Galaxy"
I follow the "Sinuous Melody"
To cross the river and climb the boulder
While tapping "Gently on the Shoulder"

He finds summer in "A Piece of Winter"
As a friend, brother and mentor
He is welcoming, and when reading your poem
His comments are "To You Alone"
And if you come to say
"I Needed Wings Today"
He will weave lines in a "Distinct Ballet"
As if "It Came Upon a Prophecy"
And not from some stifled "Academy"

Dear John, please continue to "Compose"
Even when "Getting Old is Getting Old"
Without your gift
We are "Too Soon Bereft"
The "Verbal Miracles" you perform
Show how "All of Life is a Poem"

You have been my friend
my artistry sibling,
"And I Am Grateful".

12/20/23

Dark Dreamy Dreams

 
I was down deep in a dark dreamy dream,
wandering a wispy, winding wilderness, where
sounds stabbed at an eerie secret silence;
with roars, rumbles and the rage of riotous birds,
in trees unseen and in branches of twisted tapestry.
When I heard with heartbreak mother's heavenly voice,
calling in the caliginous, obscure gloomy forest canopy;
it was my name and I searched with a narcotic need,
I ran wild, rampant and rapacious wailing WAIT.
Until, I was worn-out weary and woebegone;
I murmured and mumbled-  mother, mother . . . 
Then, sun blazed like a bath into my bedroom.

____________________________
March 23, 2018


Poetry/Allitertion/Dark Dreamy Dreams
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1484-459-23
All Rights Reserved, 2018, Constance La France

Written for the Standard contest, Alliteration Poem,
sponsor, Silent One, Judged 03/2018

Second Place

Submitted to the Standard contest, A Strand (1052)
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 01/16/2022

First Place

A Loser Winner

A luck that stock in a lock, I'm lost.
Eat some words to repeat to compete, I'm beat.
Find new but few but to screw, I'm wreck.
Look a magic in a tragic an addict, I'm done.

Everybody wants to win a battle.
But the battle is for what a winner does.
No battles in a white flag doom.
But no same critical preferences.

I'm still boy wandering a none.
A none that can be win sometimes.
A none that can be understand.
And a none should be a lesson.

Losing grips in the lines i write.
Trembling wrist, not to cut.
In a square with a cold place.
What light can be feel a winner?

Tongue Twisting Fun

 
Down deep, in a dark dreamy dream,
wandering a wispy, winding wilderness, where
sounds stabbed at silence; roaring, rumbling raging,
my tongue twined, twisted, turned, twirled, and tongue tied . . . 

________________________
December 30, 2020

Poetry/Light Verse/Tongue Twisting Fun
Copyright Protected, ID 12-1317-490-30
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France

Written for the Standard contest, Tongue Twister
sponsor, Joe Sandler, Judged 01/22/2021

'Dark Dreamy Dream'

 

I was down deep in a dark dreamy dream,
wandering a wispy, winding wilderness, where
sounds stabbed at an eerie secret silence;
with roars, rumbles and the rage of riotous birds,
in trees unseen and in branches of twisted tapestry.
When I heard with heartbreak a heavenly voice,
calling in the caliginous, obscure gloomy forest canopy;
it was my name and I searched with a narcotic need,
I ran wild, rampant and rapacious wailing WAIT.
Until, I was worn-out weary and woebegone;
I murmured and mumbled-  mother, mother . . . 
then, sun blazed like a bath into my bedroom.

Wandering a Nuclear Holocaust

I wake up
find myself

wandering in a hot dessert
baking in the malign rays 
of a dying sun

I realized 
that i am walking around 

a post nuclear wasteland -
 nothing is moving 

everything is dead 
I may be the last 
person on earth

I don’t know how i got here
or when it is

or even if it is real
or just a nightmare vision

i scream out 
Dear God

save me
and hear nothing

but the whispers 
of billions of ghosts
in the radioactive winds

Scented Leaves

~

We frolic through the scented leaves
aromas fill the air
Such beauty found as autumn weaves
these wondrous sights to share

Now wandering a winding path
while cooler breezes chase
For rosy cheeks the aftermath
is smiles on our face

With winter waiting in-between
we breathe the season’s spice
Of cinnamon and evergreen
and everything that’s nice

For here as maples line the way
with barren branch the view 
Through scented leaves I’ll run and play
this autumn day with you


11/11/19
Written for the Scented Leaves Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Kim Rodrigues

We Are Purpose Part 2

where left becomes right and right is wrong and confusion is the vice that keeps her running into the disappointment, it’s yet another man’s arms, because he told her she couldn’t breathe without him when the fact of the matter is without her he cannot win

he can’t embrace his future, he can’t wake to a dream, he was wandering a mist the madness, there is no king without a queen, she solidified his purpose, gave meaning to his plan, listened to his desires, so he would understand that he was not alone and never had to be, equal but unequal, This knowledge will set us free

but not today, there is a struggle going on, purpose is not learned and woman tolerate what is wrong,  so can we return to our purpose, can that be the plan, can we be responsible and until we find that worthy one who will move within GOD’s plan

The Virtue of Motion and Life

Rebirth glides -
a bee balm ballerina 
with dainty airs   
sails soft upon enchanted wisps
of Spirit’s blown kiss..
wandering a nectar network  
weaving amid shaggy blooms gilt-tilled..

a dancer in gold dust 
her slipper feet 
of light and peace
bring blessings of fruition
to wild-garden's frilly lavender fillies

About the Vibrant Meadow

I was wandering a meadow,
Rather far away from home—
Still I had no destination,
Save for this, to simply roam.

And so it was I wandered,
Then I wandered even more—
Discovering the grandest things
In my efforts to explore.

And about the vibrant meadow,
I discovered something new—
The daffodils were yellow,
And the periwinkles, blue!

So it was I learned a lesson,
As I did, when but a child;
No artist has yet fashioned—
What it is painted in the Wild!

Wandering a Country Road

I like a wild field swaying,
with warm sun and buzzing bees;
and a swallow twittering . . .


___________________________
March 19, 2019


Poetry/Verse/Wandering a Country Road
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1126-025-02
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.

Anthony's Anthem

Anthony
Weary of things once craved... then became
burning and squirming under life bending lens
caving in to please those spikey-shadowy things
a million mental monkeys to navigate through
not enough butterfly- beauty or bloom.

Another flight into a barbed wire sky
lonely spirit wandering a cloudy lullaby
driven to the fringe of a dead end town, 
just another bloated fun house clown
dabbing rouge onto hope's sunken cheek.
                   Anthony

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