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Best Poems Written by Christine Bertrand

Below are the all-time best Christine Bertrand poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Disconnected

No T.V., no internet, what are we to do, just look at us!
I remember a time, it wasn’t such a fuss.
Where pleasure and creativity we could find
without such things to entertain humankind.
We could look around and we could see
All the jewels of life waiting to be.
A life so good, a sun so bright,
While sharing it all with family; what a delight!
We wake up in the morning with smiles all around,
For there certainly be a love one to be found.
We’d notice the cold floors tickle our toes,
Now it tablets and i-phones up everyone’s nose.
We stepped out the door to start a new day
Not with text messages but hugs and kisses leading the way.
Our generation was tight knit and grand,
We all worked together with one purpose at hand.
That our next generation would have better opportunity,
With ever so much, and always have plenty.
And for the life we had, we knew we were blessed,
So we store up the extra to help out the rest.
We welcomed the strangers that came by our way,
We offered a meal and invited them to stay.
Today, if the door bell rings, we jump up in fret
If not forewarned by a previous text.
A variety of friends, we’ve made through the years,
Not by facebook request, but by having listening ears.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the new technology of this time,
But replacing one for the other is but a crime.
No T.V., no internet, now six days has past,
And from it a poem is written, and that is that, at last.
For today we got reconnected,
But remembering that at time it’s better to stay disconnected. 

Copyright © Christine Bertrand | Year Posted 2017



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My Parents

 
Had I more quickly realized just who they were,
I would have shown them more respect.

Had I tried harder to fathom their brilliant minds,
I would have taken more of their teachings to heart.

Had I more clearly understood the purpose of their being,
I would have more vigorously tried to assist them.

They were truly honorable; I was sadly prejudiced.
They were well informed; I was grossly ignorant.
They were totally unwearying; I quickly, gave up.

Have an Heavenly  Anniversary  
And know that I am finally getting it.

Love & Respect
your daughter

Copyright © Christine Bertrand | Year Posted 2017

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Dirty Dice Game

We're playing a gift exchange and playing it twice
Going to find out who’s naughty or nice”
Santa once could arbitrarily decide
Who to praise and who to deride
But tonight dirty dice gift grabs
Let see who will have the most dabs
We won’t be able tell at a glance
Choose well or  consider the circumstance
Nothing is classified as right or wrong
There’s no need to sing an old xmas  song
Once the naughty were as guilty as can be
Now they are merely victims of this xmas party
Dirty Dice is not fair
Just Roll them, they don’t care
It’s not about Naughty 
It’s not about Nice
It’s just about rolling 
the same number twice.
Where it gets crazy
is in the second half - then we see who gets dirty.
Listen and follow the rules
And see who ends up with all the jewels. 
That were kept hidden for many years
A stocking full of coal no one need fear.
For this game will bring joy and cheers.
Let the game begin ---- and let not forget the beers.

Copyright © Christine Bertrand | Year Posted 2017

Details | Christine Bertrand Poem

Bridal Veil Falls




Welcome to Bridal Veil.
The beauty is beyond compare.
As you walk down the peaceful trail, 
Strange whispers might fill the air,
of Maswein, the magician forgotten tale.
O' the lore and truths, it begs to share.
May this humble poet's ability,
write this riddle right, and give
Kagawong's legendary story
a new awe-inspiring perspective, 
for the world at length to read and see,
so it may forever remain captive.
Now, here's how it began to be. 
Kagawong Odawa tribe was peaceful and proud,
and lived high on the throne for many suns;
until the Iroquois fierce storm came thundering loud,
and the life as they knew it, is shun 
by their enemy's huge dark cloud.
The Chieftains conclude that it’s best to leave and be gone
but hopeful that their retreat is but a temporary shroud. 
They set out for the Mississippi far out lands to dwell on.
Except Maswein, the magician stayed behind and vowed
to be the falls’ sentinel along with his two sons.
Early one morning, while his sons slept,
Maswein went hunting through the deepest of woods, 
when a tiny man rose up from the earth's depth.
Wearing a red feather upon his head, and if you would
altercating a match to somehow prove his strength.
Maswein accepts for he no longer cared if he should. 
"I care for nothing, good nor bad, 
my hopes are gone, for my tribe has fled. 
Really, what’s another lost to be had! 
I am but sifting sand," he said.
Maswein amazingly threw the elf as they wrestle, 
bewildered as the tiny man disappears,
 an un-husk ear of corn topped with a red tassel,
where his opponent should have landed alternatively appears.
As he drew close to the mysterious object,
a voice arose from within it.
"Pick me up,!" instructed the subject.
"Pull out my body from this constricting outfit,
then scatter my many grains along the edge of the plain 
and return to this place after one moon. 
And by complying to this deed, your tribe will soon,
inhabit this wondrous place again”.
 Being a man of great wisdom,
Maswein did as he was instructed 
and when Grandmother Moon's mysticism 
full cycle of her changes was completed,
he returns to the sacred ground with some skepticism. 
Just to find the entire plain blanketed 
with tiny shoots and blades of new-grown corn. 
And where he had tossed the cob itself, 
broad luxurious leaves and vines of pumpkins are born,
no doubt with the help of his presumed magical elf.
Maswein and his sons carefully attended and nurtured 
the plants through the summer up into the fall.
One day, as he moves about in his orchard,
Maswein hears once again a mysterious call
"Maswein, had you not conquered me in wrestling,
these gifts would not have been your given grace,
and your tribe's day of reckoning,
plus nourishment for all human race."
Maswein the magician 
without the trials of before 
is able to travel to the lands 
by the Mississippi, to bring his tribal band 
to their homeland where they belong
 by the mystical falls of Kagawong.

Copyright © Christine Bertrand | Year Posted 2017

Details | Christine Bertrand Poem

Chaga, Chaga

In the last four years I have had no seasonal allergies
Thanks to all of Chaga’s wonderful properties.
Then comes along spring of twenty seventeen
And I am back swallowing a bunch of antihistamine,
For I had stop consuming my magic potion.
Really, truly,  I had no notion,
Of all its pluses versus its minuses.
Now it comes too late for my poor sinuses.

Chaga, I hope it is not to late to reclaim your power 
So I may stop popping pills and get off all puffers.
I believe and trust that you will not let me suffer
So I might enjoy what this season as to offer,
Like the beautiful blossoms and blue skies
without having oozing and watery eyes. 
But in the meantime, family and friends, just stay polite
With each time I sneeze,  just say "Gesundheit"

Copyright © Christine Bertrand | Year Posted 2017



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Addiction

Caught up in an avalanche
Spinning head and out of control,
Down a never-ending mountain slope.

Copyright © Christine Bertrand | Year Posted 2017

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Serena Claire

Sweet, sweet Serena Claire
With your tiny arms reaching
An heavenly soul can’t hardly bear
To show you all her teachings.

As your blue eyes are staring
Looking up, filled with wonder 
Hers looks down watching 
And admiring you over and over.

Your presence on earth
Will be sheltered in love
Every step that you taketh
She will guide from above.

Sweet, sweet Serena Claire
The world’s at your feet
Her prayers now to God
Is that you’ll live life complete.

Copyright © Christine Bertrand | Year Posted 2017

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writing contest

Due to a friend’s request
I entered a writing contest.
It was quite the quest 
and I gave it one’s best.
Unfortunately it was a reject
And very hard to accept.
I hadn’t prepared to protect
my heart’s gold crest
from its bullet to the chest.
A bullet proof vest 
had been needed from the vilest
which I now need to digest
and make sense of its infest
so it may not continue to manifest
and ruin my favorite zest
and my soul’s favorite guests.
My Pen and my Auto-Correct.

P.S. 
Now that I’ve decompressed
I no longer feel under house arrest
I can now  put my pen to rest,
and enjoy my day off  treasure chest’s
fuzziest, happiest, coziest best.

Copyright © Christine Bertrand | Year Posted 2017

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A time

It's soon time for us "bitches" to be bound,
to our beautiful rental cottage in Owen Sound.
It certainly should be a time of having fun,
and a time only scheduled by the moon and the sun.

A time that can't be hurried or denied.
A time that is coming, as surely as the tide.
A time for laughter and joy, until the time is no more
of our weekend together, as we go away as before.

So let's start early and finish late and not fret about the time,
and enjoy each and everyone's own special rhyme.

Is it time yet,
Can't wait I bet

Copyright © Christine Bertrand | Year Posted 2017

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untitled

Let it be known that he who sings 
Peace and hope clear, and strong, 
Will know the glory that it brings 
And live, indeed, it’s wondrous song.

Copyright © Christine Bertrand | Year Posted 2017