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Joanne Simms Poem
THE DRAGLINE for Pete Brett
One hundred foot boom
7-½-yard bucket
The tracks are like
Ones on the tracks of a tank
They go chunk clunk and clank
Arm of the boom swings
Far to the left then to right
Out casts the bucket
And drags the rock in
Papa pushes the pedals and
Pulls the leavers
Lifts the cranes bucket and
Swings the arm in
Dumps the rock into
A pile at quarry
Just old black Burt, Bootsie and me
We ride in the donkey a brawny little engine
Careful now Uncle Burt I ‘am heavy as can be
He’d chuckle and let me ring the dingy
As the donkey pulled all those gondola cars
to the rock crusher A ring ding-a-ling
here comes the train ring ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling
Dinner would be with Uncle Red Papa and me
by the railroad tracks a fire warm
and perhaps we would see
Alligator Willy who would stop by to share
some pickled eggs, sausages and a beer
I dance in the night by the light that comes
from cranes rear window the light that
shines from the top of the boom
My stage is a beam of square light
and I dance and I swirl as the
beam from the top boom does
swing. It’s better than the light from the moon
I spin and I dance in an out of
The shadows
I see my papa’s face
Through the crane’s side window’s panel
His arm is out stretched as he
Pushes and pulls
I wave I am tired now
He jumps from the tracks and
Lifts me back in
His face has wide goofy grin
We share chocolate milk
From a thermos and take
Orange marmalade Sandwiches wrapped in wax paper
which were sticky and sweet
from his Old battered Lunch Pail
when my feet were all wet He took off my shoes
and placed them by Old Mr. Murphy as his engine was called
Dry and warm and cozy we’d be
Papa his dog Bootsie and me
Northwest the crane that he ran At Seminole Rock
he was considered the best Crane operator-man
He worked from dark tell the sand-man
I sleep in an empty dynamite crate
Filled with a string called waste
Used to spread thick grease
by the big diesel engine at the back
of the crane
He shuts the doors as it’s starting to
rain
The crane growls and grumbles
and rocks me to and fro
like in a large giant’s lap
as I take a nap
in dreams I spin and I dance
by the light from the boom
it’s better than the light
from the moon
Copyright © Joanne Simms | Year Posted 2012
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Joanne Simms Poem
FOOLS
The sun is warm high up in the sky-----
Too beautiful a day for men to die.
Still they do each passing day----Tell me why?
The sun is high up in the sky and its rays show me what man has done.
It’s done under this sun so high in the sky..
To beautiful a day for men to die.
Done… done… done ….Why? Why? Why?
Copyright © Joanne Simms | Year Posted 2012
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Joanne Simms Poem
THE MOON by any other name it's still the same Full moon
SEE the Moon! Where is the moon?
Over there rising big bright round and full
High in the night sky is the moon
Wolf moon/Full hunger moon/Sugar moon/Walking moon
January February March April
Milk moon/Strawberry moon/Thunder moon/Lighting moon
May June July August
Harvest moon/Hunter's moon /Blood moon / Long night's moon
September October November December
Dark moon/Bright moon/ Silver moon/Pink moon/ Blue moon
Rose moon/ Peony moon/Lotus moon/Chrysanthemum moon
Spring Summer Fall and Winter
Winter moon/Trappers moon/Planters moon/Honeymoon
Dog Day's / Fish's /Beaver's /Dragon's/ Worm's /Crane/Hare's
Moon of horses /Planting moon
Hungry Ghost moon/Old moon/New moon
Moon of the winds/Moon of Ice /Snow moon
Bitter moon/Kindly moon/Dispute Moon/Singing Moon
"Sleepy moon"...Sleep in the full moon light.. moonlight madness
Moonlight/Moon Beam.......See the moon..... Moon of calming
Turn your head here and see the man in the moon
I SEE THE MOON Ahh! I DELIGHT IN THE SIGHT OF THE MOON
Super Moon Saturday 11:45 pm May 6, 2012 Jbs
Copyright © Joanne Simms | Year Posted 2012
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Joanne Simms Poem
…MORNING TIME
Every morning at four, I hear the slamming of the woodshed door.
The rattle of the poker and the smell of wood smoke, wafting through the air.
It rolls its way up the stair to where I am sleeping there.
The smell of homemade bread, toasting on the large black kitchen stove,
With coffee perking.
There’s honey and home churned butter, oatmeal hot, and brown sugar sweet.
Milk is ready to be strained and put in large steel milk pails.
Auntie’s in her Kitchen but has Uncle George to meet.
Now done with my breakfast and out the door, I run.
Up in the battered rusty truck, truck I jump, and so does good, old Shep.
It’s off to Grandfather’s farm we roll.
The sun is coming up on Brett Road, and smiles across the family farmland.
I see my Grandpa Billy and Great Grandpa Rufus comes with a limp
Outa’ the chicken coop, with brown eggs in a basket, as the cat’s wrap around his feet.
He comes up to greet with a large toothless grin and great bear hands he grabs and hugs me, His little JoAnne.
Copyright © Joanne Simms | Year Posted 2012
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Joanne Simms Poem
WINDOWPANE
From my windowpane I see milky seedpods floating by,
Randomly they wink at me.
From this elegantly glassy frame the beauty that I see-
Is right here in front of me.
I see the sun has sauntered past my stoop-
Now it’s past my window frame,
And continues down the grassy lane.
Past the fields of new mowed hay,
And past now my great-grandfather’s old chicken coop.
A collage of colors this I see,
A golden meadow, a gleaming pond
And a never-ending sea of green.
All this I see standing here looking-
Out my windowpane.
I rejoice with hope, and comfort comes for-
No matter how fearful tomorrow might be.
This is what I need to see a bird perched in a tree.
All this I see from my windowpane.
Copyright © Joanne Simms | Year Posted 2012
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Joanne Simms Poem
Hushed
The
Crescent moon
is
Tossed
To and fro
In
a
Turbulent
cloudy
Sea
like
a
Specter pirate’s ship
October
Stars
Flash their beacon light
To guide the ghostly vessel through
Blue-black stormy seas
November
Wind
Is coming
Bare armed trees
Groaning whispering
Swaying pointing
Saying…
‘This way this way
Follow the vapor phantom mist
Along his nightly stay’
Leaves rustle rushing
Scattering and skittering
Moved by some unseen foot
from a lonely apparition
Smoke falls from chimneys’
Long gone fires’ after-glow
A snow like hush fills
The nightly air
She is a vision of white
An image lit
By cold bright
Shimmering moonlight
Just like her sister
Beautiful
Spring
Warmest charm for
Summer
She too has gone
So will follow
Fall
For golden days
Cool nights she is a delight
To us mercy from
Winters’
“Icy claws”
She calls to those in the night
We are hushed with fright
We bar our windows and houses tight……..
Now turn out the Light! NIGHTY-NIGHTY
Copyright © Joanne Simms | Year Posted 2012
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Joanne Simms Poem
……CHILD’S EYES
When I was little I use to hear birds, singing in the trees.
There are so few birds today, where are they?
When I was just a child, I use to see caterpillars on every walk.
Did the long gone birds eat them?
When I was just four or five the world was so alive.
Now it seems everyone I loved has gone.
Has Jack-in–(his) Pulpit left it?
Did the painter give up his brush?
Because, where did he leave his Painters Pallet?
Or to some the Devil’s Paint Brush.
I use to see the tiny little flowers, everywhere.
From Lady Slippers, and Cattails, and Green Frogs, and great big Toads.
In every meadow and along the roads, Butterflies flitted by.
In every garden and wood, Walking Sticks, and Praying Mantises, intrigued me.
Spiders, and Painted Turtles, and bright red Lady Bugs, for my childish eyes to see.
These still remain a part of me, but how many Dragon Flies, do you see?
Copyright © Joanne Simms | Year Posted 2012
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Joanne Simms Poem
Poem
TO WRITE A POEM
One might think a good place to start
Is in the head for all the words
Longing to come out.
Yet every poet knows it.
In the heart the words
Start to grow
They grow and grow
Until-
They have no place else to go-
So they bust forth-
Rejoice!
In the growth that spills
From your heart,
Into words with meanings
And words with feelings.
The thoughts of TRUTH.
The person inside of you, all the world does know, you now.
It’s where you start to know, YOURSELF.
Copyright © Joanne Simms | Year Posted 2012
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