poem – Page 2 – jacquelinecaseypoetry

The educated voter hears both sides.
Unfortunate, our citizen can’t split
his time or work to find where Truth resides;
where Nervous Nancy’s lying Left might sit.

The Left has left our borders open wide
yet still need magic pill to beat our Trump.
Let Tyranny’s Majority decide
and give beloved nation final slump?

Our Citizens, as listeners, less intent
to hear the newsy pieces of their ‘act’.
Our babies must come first and then the rent
and so we miss a part of all their ‘fact’.

Ah, longing for the good old days of news
when all we had was simple radio.
Let Orson Welles warn, cause a panic, too
who shows us evil winds about to blow!

The proof, they say, found in the final taste.
Lies found in politics, a dangerous place!

For All The Beautiful, Young Men

By: jacquelinecaseypoetry June 5, 2019June 10, 2019

English sonnet, form poetry, Memoir, Memorial Day Poem, Patriotism, poem, Poetry, verseLeave a Comment

300px-Into_the_Jaws_of_Death_23-0455M_edit

“For All the Beautiful, Young Men”

I see the courage in their brave-lit eyes

as Omaha becomes their shining hour.

The camera’s caught the morning’s gray, dull skies.

Men wait; committed with the bravest power.

The ramp now opens; there’s the glint of morn.

There is no turning back; no time to pause.

Momentum made and like a muscle torn_

yanked from its place_ they move for raging cause.

“Oh, captain! we’ve been born across the sea.

We’ve given you our soul and then our heart.

We’ve nothing more to offer in this hell.

As water takes our forces, we depart.”

Our beautiful young men with bravest smile;

our heroes lost in such a little while.

(4,000 lost at Omaha landing that day!)

The Flowers of the Field

By: jacquelinecaseypoetry June 4, 2019June 4, 2019

Father's Day, form poetry, iambic pentameter, love, Memoir, poem, Poetry, Shakespearean Sonnet, Sonnets, Uncategorized, verseLeave a Comment

Photo by Priceless Times Photography

“The Flowers of the Field”

The reach within your baby hands so sweet

make father want to hold back ticking time

but even you, my child , are forced to meet

a different kind of father in this rhyme.

He’s called old Time and steals your innocence

Allows your golden play be thrown away.

You’ll not recall this moment with your Dad.

Time’s jealousy will steal and cause decay.

For now, a trust and love for father’s grace.

For now, your world is safe within his arms.

Within this moment is the safest place.

A moment, stilled, with all its poignant charm.

Yet, all the flowers of the field we know

must yet begin to stretch and then to grow.

For Johnny

By: jacquelinecaseypoetry May 31, 2019October 3, 2020

English sonnet, form poetry, iambic pentameter, love, Memoir, poem, Poetry, Sonnets, Tribute poem, verseLeave a Comment

(Photo by Jacqueline Casey)

“For Johnny”

When silver leaves sigh, trembling to the ground
a brilliant gold is sprinkled everywhere.
Sure, then I hear your laughter mid the sound
of steps that shuffle up abandoned stair.

When scarlet leaves dance, hesitant to part

lay deep in dusty shadows, they intone

and whisper “I have been here where my heart
knows sad farewell to memories we’ve known”.

When days grow short with bitterness of soul,

among the frost and starry branches bare,

remember warm your humor I still hold
before the light grows dull to dark despair.

Once more I sense your autumn presence where,
among the jeweled leaves, you’re smiling there.

. .

When Love is Gone

By: jacquelinecaseypoetry March 12, 2019October 3, 2019

blank verse, iambic pentameter, love, nature, poem, Poetry, psychological, verselife, lost communities, lost love, Poetry, Thoughts1 Comment

A world abandoned, nature now attends.

She grows her roving vines; surrounds the door.

The sound of children’s play is heard no more.

Around the gnarled roots that grow and stray

she grabs at windows once held curtain’s sway.

No human voices echo through her halls

No more the roaming Jasmine odor calls.

What mystery escapes her stucco walls?

What place is this once held such loveliness?

Mad roots now rave and overrun her past.

They strangle unknown cause so long forgot.

When love is gone, then covered is the heart.

The View From My Back Door

By: jacquelinecaseypoetry February 27, 2019August 24, 2019

blank verse, form poetry, iambic pentameter, Kyrielle, nature, poem, Poetry, Politics, UncategorizedLeave a Comment

The glow of silver trees against blue sky
against a deeper royal blue ally
as snow now blankets each and every limb
with loving care, their mother covers them.

The trees so loved by nature’s wintry blast
it seems some artist covers to contrast.
Her richest blue encircles icy trim
with loving care, their mother covers them!

To some, a dark and deadly, frozen fear;
to others, it’s a message that they hear:
Such honor sent to each not as some whim.
With loving care, their mother covers them.

The trees bejeweled still with breathless hue;
their branches blaze against an endless blue.
They bow in adoration for her hymn;
with loving care, their mother covers them.

Form: Kyrielle: AA;BB;CC;bB;DD;bB;EE;bB
(from my kitchen door in Murphy, NC)

Remember Us

By: jacquelinecaseypoetry February 23, 2019April 12, 2019

form poetry, love, poem, Poetry, Sonnetslife, Love poem, Poetry, ThoughtsLeave a Comment

“Remember Us”

Like pictures on a screen in seconds, lost

or blips upon a monitor turn long

old memories are flown with deadly cost:

as quarks may separate eternal song.

The picture caught though words may flutter by

though hole is in my net and so I sigh.

A set of words surround my broken thought

say: “You and I” when, clearly, love is sought.

Before our memory may grab stale air

Before time takes the brain and makes a mush

Before the hurt that makes us want to share

Before the mind’s become a muddy lush;

inscribe upon some stone where century

from now our love survives for all to see.

Haiku for Lovers (photo by Robert Doisneau)

The Morning After on Buckingham Road

By: jacquelinecaseypoetry February 21, 2019October 17, 2020

blank verse, Kyrielle, love, Memoir, poem, Poetry, verseLeave a Comment

“The Morning After on Buckingham Road”

Push open all the doors to house at five.
Breathe deep_ the morning air; keep lungs alive.

A birthday celebration takes its claim;
confetti on the sofa_ in the drain.

We held the starry night so drunk with love
but now, with morning glint, squint eyes above.

The dying ash in fireplace, she complains:
“The day is new but we are not the same.”

I listen to some early, startled birds
that shout outside my window with their words.

As clouds roll in, we weary souls to blame
as when, the night before, tried to remain

stalemate with smoke and Chanel No. 5
which lingers on with scent of coming rain.

Kyrielle rhyme pattern: aa,bb,cc, bb,dd,bb,ab

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