The 2011 Poetry Contest:
Please share your poetry with the Almanac community! (You can enter the poem here or as a separate topic. It doesn't matter!)
Prize: We’ll give a bundle of Almanac products to one poet whose creation was especially inspiring to readers and editors. We also thought it might be nice to send off one prize to a random winner—to acknowledge all the brave souls who are willing to share their poems!
Please note: This space is not for professional writers or photographers. In sharing content on this Web site, you agree that it does not infringe copyrights or other property rights of any party. All content submitted becomes the property of Yankee Pubishing, Inc. by appearing here. You also agree that the content you are submitting is your own. You may delete your content at will at any time.
I wanted to be a lion, but instead born a cat. Small and short of my desire, confidence I lacked. So lived I, the life of a lion, and then it came to me. I am what I am, not a lion wannabe.
short and sweet!
Jonquils smiling in the sun,
Hint that Spring has now begun.
Flanked by green, the grass is growing,
Foretelling lawns will soon need mowing.
And forsythia waving in the breeze,
Are beckoning to the honey bees.
Once again, all outside is awake,
From the long winter nap it had to take.
Form follows function
Without much compunction.
Still, it must be in place
For beauty and grace.
Have Your Best Day Today!
Have the best day today
you can possibly have;
Then expect more tomorrow;
for wounds - its your salve.
So why not enjoy
your life amid strife?
The days, they are fewer
in the rest of your life.
So take a quick moment
and consider this thought:
That happiness comes
from within not without.
Your soul is quite precious,
protect it with care,
It expects to be nourished
from the joy in your hair.
Before the break of day I sit and await as you ascend over the horizon, only then do I sense the glory of divine majesty.
If I could hold you
`just for tonight
I would be so happy
and all would be right.
You were meant for me
`in my heart I know it`s true
If I didn`t believe this
`what would I ever do
You are my sunshine
`my first thought of each day
You are my life
`and I love it this way.
Someday our day will come
`I have to believe it is true
For what in the world would I do
`if I didn`t have you.
A TINY LITTLE BIRD FEW DOWN UPON MY WINDOWSILL
IT WAS EARLY IN THE MORNING AND THE WORLD WAS OH SO STILL
HE CAME TO TASTE THE CRUMBS I'D LEFT
AND AS HE TOOK MY MEAGER GIFT
HE THEN BEGAN TO SING
A SONG THAT MADE THE TREETOPS RING
FOR OTHERS JOINED HIS SONG
A SONG THAT LASTED ALL DAY LONG
OH LITTLE BIRD PLEASE COME AGAIN AND BREAKFAST HERE WITH ME
FOR THROUGH YOUR SWEET AND SIMPLE SONG GOD'S BEAUTY I CAN SEE
I have included a poem I wrote and hope it is a winner. I enjoy writing poetry and have for sometime.
I think of you each day
And the words I'd like to say
To make you understand
That my life's on shifting sand.
Thanks to you I've found
A strength in my self to rebound
From any harm you've caused
That you can't place my life on pause.
I'm not a game you play
Or a table on which your burdens lay
I'm strong as the hawk that flies
And I know all your lies.
So try as you may to forget me
I'm the first thing in the morning you see
And when I'm flying high through the air
It's because I love myself enough to care.
And I won't let it get me down
I can make a smile from a frown
For I have the power to run my life
And survive from any given strife.
Thanks for letting me share...
I have several poems you might enjoy...
This is me...
Metaphorically speaking I am a floating leaf
Floating carefree from the family tree
Senior years are fading as I grow older
The leaf represents me an my accomplishments
The stem is my lifeline
The lines are varied interest
The different trails I have followed
Color represents the changes I have endured
Symbolizes the time I have left to accomplish all I want to do
Before I reach my destiny
i wonder if the earth remembers spring
if the trees know
they are not done
but will live again
does the grass go to sleep
or lie awake
wondering what went wrong?
does the willow weep
because she cannot give
when there is no sun?
when the land has gone
cold and grey
does she search for her beauty
or, i wonder,
if the earth remembers spring
What a neat poem. I hope you keep writing
A beutiful poem
Very, very nice...
Orbit, a year is time, here on earth.
Planets orbit their suns in time.
Suns orbit their galaxies in time.
Atoms' electrons orbit their nucleus in time.
Time, the measure of existence of quantum
Particles in space, they have their time.
Time released in the universe with
The Big Bang was there within that little
Piece of matter smaller than a golf ball!
Follow the photon back in time to where
Where may not be there.
Time--speed of light squared E=mc²
Time to disassemble matter and its energy,
But time still exists.
And so to the neutron and proton, gluons
And quarks did they exist all the time?
They are so necessary.
Charles J. Nehlig
I must ponder on this and read it again.... rocket fuel for the mind. Nice!
A clarion call
Of Blue Jays’ shrill cry
Shears dawns’ veil,
“All denizens gather
To a spectacle of Death beheld”
The Trumpet blares!
And the Forest stirs.
“Come One Come All”
“I See, I See”
The voices cry,
“The Cardinal’s on the Matt”.
While on Feline paws,
Silent as Death,
The moment impends
In crescendo of anticipation,
“Mercy mercy” He screams
Fear palpatant in the shrill cry.
“Run, Flee, Hide, Fly,
KILL!” the Gallery resounds.
The Morning song
Rebuilds itself one voice silent.
I totaly know were The Cardinal is. great poem. great delivery.so sad it made me smile
Bad, bad cat! Very good poem!
Forty quarts into a hundred quart garden
the canner is whistling, steaming,
calling my name.
Tomatoes, red ripe, round
pungent, fill baskets on porch, kitchen floor
are piled on tables, counters, chairs.
tomatoes, tomatoes everywhere.
I wash, blanch, peel,
season, cook, and ladle
into clear (fresh washed)
steaming hot jars.
Set those in the canner,
(it only holds ten)
turn around and start over
washing, blanching, peeling again….
My hands sting from tomato acid.
My back aches like I’ve been loading bricks
A sweat soaked blouse sticks to my body,
hair falling down sticks to my neck.
The song I had in my heart
at six in the morning
sticks in my throat
As the sun goes down,
still in the kitchen,
I throw back my head
and howl at the moon
Morning came on butterfly wings
Flittering phosphorescent on the lawn
Trumpeting morning glories sang
Pink and purple colors to the dawn
Milk chocolate earth beneath the spade
Rich with heady musk of loam
Sculpted rows the hoe has made
Green plants in their garden home
Adam had Eden; gardens and orchards
Without the toil of his calloused hand;
Troves of apples and groves of oranges
For which he never worked the land
Fallen from grace, the gardener toils
For hours of sunshine, praying for rain
Working his soul back into the soil
Growing his heart and freeing his pain
Soggy black soil sweet smell
Fresh air electric storm breeze
Too warm for a sweater,
The sun returns.
Hang the laundry out again.
An unusual day of warmth
too much too soon an anomaly
tainted snow stubbornly lingers
THE YEAR – Shirley Hodge
Hollyhocks bob by the back garden gate
lilacs grow tall by the door.
Roses envelope my statue of Puck
daisies pop up by the score.
Robbins dig worms in the garden out back
squirrels sack feeders on poles.
Hummingbirds dine at the feeders I fill
apple trees bend with their fruit.
White-tailed deer stare down from the hill
green vines scale the wall with their roots.
All is well in the garden today
the rain and the sun have been here to play.
Now everyday life swarms like the bees
thru gardens, on hilltops and in the green trees.
Yet I know as I look at this late summer day
the white blanket of winter is not far away.
Soon Madam Nature will call this to a halt
as she opens the door to the next season's vault.
And I will retreat from the cold and the snow
to sit by a fire and watch the days go.
There is no sadness in saying goodbye
for it all will come back in a blink of her eye.
New and reborn, virgin and dear
completing the cycle of Mother Earth's year.
The bees share abundant life with the cherry tree.
The donkey foal jumps with joy at his mother's knee.
The butterfly struggles from beneath the lenten rose,
And mercifully escapes the "little lions" sharp toes.
When life is simple and your needs are few
You'll find the Lord talking to you
In ways you may have never known
He'll show you just which way your going
So stop and listen, do your best
And let the Lord... do the rest.
April showers bring May flowers
May flowers bring the gloom of June
When Mommies lose their babies
to places far away
Hoping that they will see them
Oh trees, flora, woods-
the entire winter world-
please please begin to preen.
You could start by putting on some green!
Come spring come.
Fearing she might miss her cue,
Kate got born before date due.
Then, at school, job or party
Kate hated to be tardy.
Grown up, she lived on a farm,
bred roosters for loud alarm.
At the sound of first crowing,
right away Kate got going.
When aged to an old girly,
Kate still liked to be early.
Before her time, she was sent
where elderly people went.
Kate passed before predicted,
knowing that it was her fate
to be ever after late.
Groggy sun dozes
quilt that dims daylight,
as opaque pillows,
dense and damp billows,
muffle bird voices
and sadden bright songs.
She sits at the end of a branch,
Cloaked in a garment of soft green,
Above which, peaks a hint of pink,
And the promise of what she may become,
As she sits in her silent perfection.
And as her green cloak falls away,
Revealing more of the promising pink,
She is plucked from her perch,
To be placed in a prison of crystal,
For people to gaze upon her perfect beauty.
As her color starts to fade to white,
And her beauty starts to wane,
She bows her head as if in mourning,
For the perfection of the past has gone,
And the flowers life will soon be over.
Concentric circles, round and round, lazily, effortlessly, artfully
A majestic mammal - eight feet of feathered airfoil
Eyes constantly scanning - common vermin the preferred prey
Unknowing, unaware, daily routines routine - the perfect target
Talons bared, swooping, diving, nature at its primal best
Plunging ever so silently - the hunting climaxed - up, up, away
A meal for one or to share?
Binoculars pan - the hunter retreats toward unseen nestlings
A majestic sight - obsessively observed, documented, enjoyed
The symbol of our nation - a proud heritage - seized from extinction
And to think - it could have been a turkey
Writing a poem?
I'm painting a picture in oils
Sculpting that grey clay
My flashing torch welds my feelings in steel
And my flowers mass together into a floral bouquet
I'm putting a shine on my floor
Washing my child's face
And setting the dial on the oven.
I'm walking through life
Singing my song
Wringing my hands as my heart aches
and then laughing "til my eyes flow with tears.
Writing a poem?
My life is my pen.
With the coming of March, once-rare peregrine falcons are here. After Mother lays the eggs, Diamond Lil and Dapper Dan take turns on the nest. March sees the eggs that will be the family of hunters. Downtown San Francisco baldly sterile no more, we welcome the peregrines coming back home.
I notice so many of your contests are not open to Canadians. Before I dare share a prize poem, I would like to know if this is the correct forum for me to participate in.
Thanks you so much, a Concerned Canadian.
Hi, CCC, (Canadian C Croizier), Yes, you are welcome to participate! Thanks for your interest. Just so that you're aware, it's not an OFA rule. It seems that Canadian law doesn't allow their residents to participate in sweepstakes (such as the Great Almanac Giveaway), but we're going to go out on a limb and say it's OK here!
Like a golden sugar cookie the moon fills the sky.
And the silence of night is deafening with quietness.
The cat creeps stealthy, barely a rustle in the garden rows.
And there by the tomato sweet, a field mouse.
My job is done
Gentle breeze, tree tops sway, leaning to catch an early ray,
To this I awake and begin my day,
Tiny dust motes dance, ballerinas on slender beams of light,
I struggle to begin, as I shake off the warm sleep of night,
Comfort pulls my legs back towards the sheet,
Negating obligations I need to meet,
A slow turn of my head, a gentle resigned sigh,
I once more embrace anew, the great Golden Eye...
(Sung to the tune of "Clementine.")
Oh my darling, Poison Ivy, I don't like you, don't you know?
Oosing rashes, itchy patches, from my knees down to my toes.
I just wanted a little photo, simple picture of nature sweet.
So I knelt down on the wet ground, through my jeans your oil did seep.
Just a little poke in my little hip, my doc said would do the trick.
Then the nurse came: "Drop your drawers, kid. Don't you give me any lip!"
I'm on steroids, lovely steroids, feeling pretty, fast and strong.
I'm so smart, too, till the pills are through, so I wrote this perfect song.
Oh my darling, Poison Ivy, I don't like you, don't you know?
Oosing rashes, itchy patches, from my knees down to my toes.
it hurt so good - !
Spring's First Promise
By Rhonda J. Goldfuss
Ere spring has ever glided forth
A winter's storm blows from the north
What will be and yet unseen
The garden, the meadow, all lush and green.
Under snow-white spun drifts
A peek of bloom does ever lift
As if to turn and behold the sun
From whence the bloom has just begun.
Its origin ever lies so low
In a cold grave beneath the snow
A bit of green from it comes
To peek again at the sun.
The bud, the bloom, the radiant hope
From winter's frosty grasp does cope
The flower, the promise, it holds so true
The breath of spring again renew.
springs right can be a fight with winter some times
I wear brown as a day dress common as can be
Red white and purple you will also see
I bore you I dazzle you I save your palate from harm
I have even been known as the good food luck charm
You roast me You broast me You fry me in oil
You peel me You pare me I know how to boil
With garlic I sauté, with butter I mash
With me at the table, it’s always a bash
"Thank you, have a nice day."
(Must keep smiling.)
"Oh, what a cute child."
(Shut it up or I'll eat its head.)
"Thank you, have a good evening."
(...while I gnaw the flesh from your BONES...)
"That'll be $24.98, please."
"Sir, this coupon expired two months ago."
(FEEL MY CLAWS, IDIOT)
"You want to see a manager?"
(MANAGE MY FANGS, WORM-BAIT!)
"I'm sorry, we don't accept competitor coupons."
(SCREAM FOR ME!!)
*Note: This poem is dedicated, in part, to my friend Adric, and also to anyone who's ever had to work Retail and SMILE.
My petals are heavy
My leaves are starting to crumble and
My stem is wilting from the weight.
Soon, I will be nestled in the leaves
A quilted blanket of crimson, orange, and brilliant yellow.
I will be given to the earth once again.
I shall pass, unnoticed.
After my world has dissolved,
On a glorious sun-kissed day
May I warm my face against a sunbeam,
Dance in the breeze, and
see your amorous face again.
A Kingfisher sits, still,
throned tenuously on a line,
like an old man, alone
in the royal company of coffee; quietly,
the dark magic of the court empties
into light; and again
an empty cup...
Amidst the gentle calming winter air,
I lingered by a dreary spot,
No other person had I brought,
And what beauty I found there,
At last I stood with perfect care,
Dwelling in this shadowed place,
I know I shall leave no trace,
To profane a comfort so fair,
There on the cage perched and tired,
Are the pigeons calling soft as doves,
Such beautiful company is among my loves,
I wonder to what heavens they aspired,
This is the rarest company I keep,
Sweeter, than the sweetest sleep.
my garden is turned
the worms are fat
sun is shining on my back,
as i grasp the earth
with love and care
breathing the spring air
a handful of seeds this way
a handful of seeds that way
summer flowers will soon be
for all to see
I can see wild flowers in these words