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Best Poems Written by Gene Bourne

Below are the all-time best Gene Bourne poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Mirror Ball

I'm sure this hill is where it stood.
Amazing shapes of stuccoed wood.
A glass-brick, neon stream-lined place.
As if it flew from outer space,

A swing band auditorium,
An Art Deco emporium,
When romance, innocent in pace,
From dancing to a teasing chase.

The town grew west in modern haste
And down it came, without a trace.
The war and culture's change in taste,
Predestined doom, the past erased.

The future sighs, with solemn face
The wrecking ball, the glittered waste
No plaque to read "Historic Sight".
The swirling dust, a dance goodnight.


Gene Bourne
08-01-14
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Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014



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Sunbonnet


She shuffled by our house, so slow and bent,
No second thought of where the lady went.
On her return, no one around to see.
A shaded path, she blended with the trees.

We children always giggled, as she passed.
A group emboldens others to harrass.
Our high pitched jeering from a hidden niche,
The frail, sunbonnet lady, we yelled "witch".

One day a fever kept me home from class.
I saw her weary shuffle down the path.
My over-active need to know convened.
I followed with excitement and unseen.

A house engulfed by weeds grown thick and tall,
As vines of every species claimed the walls.
Around the side, a window to peek in; 
A man in bed with twisted, throbbing limbs.
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The lady rubbed a salve to ease his pain.
And hummed a long forgotten song's refrain.

I blurted all I'd seen to mom and dad.
He stood in shocked alert and mom grew sad.

How soon the path was plowed into a drive,
A grocer truck and red-light cops arrived.
I last recall a fancy bike, brand new.
Events seem blurred, with growing up to do.
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Gene Bourne.
07-17-14




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Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014

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Water Wall


As he slept in tranquil dream, 
Suddenly he flew, it seemed. 
Thrown and landing on the floor, 
Shaking walls and splintered doors. 

Just as quick, the room grew still. 
Distant tremors he could feel. 
Out the door, and up the rock, 
There he stood in sleepy shock. 

How could oceans disappear. 
Then a hissing he could hear 
And a trembling, heavy roar 
Headed for an empty shore. 

Sunrise turned a greenish hue, 
As he climbed, a better view. 
Seeming far too large, he saw 
What must be a water wall. 

Thought of ancient stories told 
Of a wrath that could unfold; 
Sucking oceans with a breath, 
Spewing endless waves of death. 

Instinct quickly cleared his mind. 
Panic now, he clawed and climbed. 
Up, despite the screams he hears, 
As a village disappears. 

Once an evil came to call, 
Scooped them up and took them all. 
Now he's old, his stories wane, 
Of the morning Satan came.


Gene Bourne 
08-18-14


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Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014

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Flame

If sorrow cloaks the surface of your soul 
And chills the warmth that turns your wishes cold, 
Unchain the hidden anguish in your hold,
Releasing tethered truths that must be told. 

Your clever wisdom, once conceived as real, 
So blinded you to feelings kept concealed. 
Inducement starts when you at last repeal 
The law you self imposed, a false ideal. 

Beginning chapter one you sense a start. 
Ahead we veer, adjust and reembark. 
In time the doubts will pass, from our concern, 
Devotion grows in knowledge two must learn. 

A flaming passion, uncontrolled, will die.
Insightful ones will dodge the seering light.
The quantity is not where truth abides,
The quality is where forever lies.



Gene Bourne
08-15-14





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Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014

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No Deposit, No Return


Your wishes can't regain,
A thrill so long ago. 
To once again reclaim 
A past you wouldn't know. 

You view a different dance, 
With unfamiliar tune 
You pine for lost romance, 
Yet treasure not the Moon.




Meter - Iambic Trimeter (Cataletic).
A-B, A-B Rhyme.
 
Gene Bourne.
06-11-14




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Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014



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Contretemps


Angry acts begin. 
Harmful words would never flare, 
Count to ten then once again. 

Wildfire spreading fast, 
With mistaken, muddled acts. 
Smokey aftertaste will last. 

Then finessed assaults, 
Vainly exit, pride intact, 
Casting blame, the other's fault.

Friendships fall head-long, 
Disarrayed in stumbled steps. 
Puzzled reasons blurred then gone.  


Gene Bourne.
10-22-14




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Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014

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Serendipity


It matters not the timing of a day,
An absent mind that meets a busy street.

The driver of a bus who turns away
To better hear a joke behind his seat.

An accident, no planning to discern.
A curve of fate, be random or your turn


Gene Bourne
07-21-14





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Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014

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Contrapuntal Moon - Parts One and Two


Part One.

A silent yawn, the moon awakes.
Compels its patron planet's shape.
As oceans shift by its command
And with its might recasts the land.
 
Below the lunar rings of mist,
A strip of cloud, a stolen kiss.
The harvest yields a poet's line
on hay-rides of forgotten rhyme.



Part Two.

While far beneath the grain we reap,
Magnetic powers guard our sleep;
But in this source protecting Earth,
It warps the minds of some at birth

A missing foresight of control,
Malignant thoughts that urge, cajole.
Your moonlit steps they wait to hear;
A twisted grin, as you grow near.


Iambic Tetrameter / Cateletic.
Rhyme / AA-BB

Gene Bourne
02-02-14




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Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014

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I Will Wait

I composed a song version of this poem with different lyrics but the same "beat".
When you see three "dots" ...  pause for a second.


All it took...
Was your hand caress my neck...
As you passed.

Or a word...
Of affection, not some play...
You were cast.

No gifts... to please,
No wants... appeased.
So few... the signs,
Your eyes... were mine.

We create...
What we wished was truly there...
When it's not.

No ones fault...
She can't be the fantasy...
You had sought.

True romance...
Only happens when 
Two hearts have
Joined as one...

Until then...
I will wait for 
Love to come. 


Gene Bourne
06-10-14



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Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014

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How, When and Why


According to my neighborhood, 
(All experts on the topic), 
Opinions vary, none too good, 
One called it "Catastrophic". 

Exterminators sigh, refrain 
Condolences, I'm sorry. 
At City Hall, they're shocked, exclaim
They have no such Department 
 

To know that squirrels are running wild, 
I hear them as they scamper. 
An attic is a sacred place, 
Secure, not meant to tamper. 

Their next move, chewing all the wire 
And gnawing through the rafters. 
I hear them squeak a vermin's choir 
And hear my own crazed laughter. 

That life dare heave this final ho, 
But agents know thier timelines. 
The hours when the house is shown,
Their outdoor play, the best time.

I also left the scheduled due
When freight train horns will pass through.



Gene Bourne
08-26-14




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Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014

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