Bubbling Potion of Love

Written by Ann LeFlore for Bluebell Books Short Story Slam Week 11.  Write a poem, a prose, or a short story inspired by the image provided.

Bubbling Potion of Love

Handfuls of dead dried leaves
Slim from the bottom of the sea
Rotten eggs from the duck tales grave
Spider webs from the widows trap

Add some moldy bread from the dead mans hand
Mucky mud from the swamp monsters land
Stand back and drop them in
The pot begins to bubble with trouble

Watching the pot boil and bubble
Knowing that inside is the blood of trouble
Rising the dead from the graves
Turning the monsters into slaves

Round about the cauldron she turns
Stirring in the poisoned skin of toad
Drops the spike of a bone
Sharpened on an eagles throne

Crack the serpent’s eggs at last
The dancing dead wake from the past
Brings with them the tongue of dog
Lizard legs and fairy wing

 She finds in her jar the eye of newt
The wings of bat mix with hemlock root
Drops in a long black whisker
From the wolf hound fur

 She holds the wake of life in her spell
All she needs is the man in vain
Filled with desire and lust
Bring him here to me this night

Awaken from a dreamless sleep
Over top the darkness looms
Under the cloak of black
The face made chills run down my back

Standing over the top of me
She looked deep into my eye
The whites of the sockets is all I could see
As she hypnotized me

The next thing I remember I was there
Standing before her bubbling cauldron
Asking her why she brought me here
Knowing that I love some one so dear

She promised me a sure fire cure
With her potion she hands to me
One drop is all it takes
Guaranteed to make her love me

I run to meet her in the park
The night dusk has turned dark
She stands before my eyes
The potion starts to rise

Her eyes fill with lust for me
My hearts pounds with love and thrust
We embrace the long loving kiss
The bubble encases us within

I open my eyes to see
The horror that is before me
I look into her face and what did I see
The witch’s face looking back at me

Addiction to Solitaire

Written by Ann LeFlore for dVerse  open link night week 11. This poem is to talk about a person who is addicted to spider solitaire. She can not do anything all day long except sit in front of her computer screen playing this game. She is not young and is a Great Grandmother. What made me decide to write this poem was listening to her complain about her Great Grandson and how long he can sit in front of a TV and play video games. But the hours on end that she wastes away in front of her computer screen addicted to spider solitaire is more than the time  her Great Grandson plays his video games on TV. There is an addiction to card games for senior citizens just like there is an addiction to video games in our youth today.

Addiction to Solitaire

  

The woman sits in front of the screen
By hours playing her game
Not a care in the world can she see
The cards flash before her eyes

 One move here to get to the five
Then take a dive to move on to the ten
As the stacks of cards pile up
They flash before her eyes

 No move on this hand adding more cards
Bring them down in a line
Starting with the King
Ending with the Ace

 Hours pass her by lost in her addiction
Cards flashing on the screen
One right after another
Nothing done all day long

 The hours pass as she sits officiated
To the screen before her eyes
Not a day can pass her by
Without thinking of the cards in their place

 Housework is neglected
Food is forgotten
Appointments can wait for another day
But the cards can never stop

 The hours of the day pass her by
Like the sands in an hour glass
The cards wiz by like the hands of time
Flipping and shuffling appearing on her screen

 Every minute she can steal
Brings her one step closer
To the win that she can claim
One more game and she promises to stop

 But this game is a loss
She can not stop
She has to win the game
Before she can let it go

She has to play in order to be whole
Like a drug of addiction
If she misses a day
She can not think straight

 The game has her hooked
Like a needle in her veins
She feels no pain or time
As she sits before her screen

 What started this madness
The loss of the world around her
How can this happened
No doctor has a cure

 The solitaire madness
Has her hooked beyond belief
The woman is lost
In her hours of disbelief

Loneliness the Anger of Lost Hope

Written by; Ann LeFlore for dVerse poetry challenge “Ssy It Again, Sam.  Create a poem with repetition, emerging in the impact of the last quoted lines, giving a sense of power and finality.

 I have chosen to use Grandmother and anger as the repletion of this poem to express the feeling of loneliness and how anger can consume the elderly when they feel forgotten. I was trying to show how loneliness can lead to hurt and anger and feeling of a life forgotten and nobody caring any longer.

Loneliness the Anger of Lost Hope

 

The Grandmother sits by the window
Staring out at the world below her
Anger rises in her minds eye
Anger of the days that have not passed
Staring out at the village below

 The Grandmother can not move
Just staring at the village below
Angry at the people who pass by
The laughter cries out in her ears
The bitter anger rises in her eyes

As she sits starting at the city below
The days pass before her angry eyes
The times before were filled with laughter
But today are consumed with bitter anger
The once joyful Grandmother a love for all to see

 The sweet years have gone at last
The loneliness now consumes her days
The sweet loveable Grandmother
Just sits and stares out the window
The hurt and anger rising in pain

 The door bell chimes a sound so new
She leaves her place by the window
To see who is calling at her door
The anger rises in her steps
As she approaches to see who calls

 The smiles greet her angry bitter face
The children have returned at last
The joy they bring with dancing hope
Turns the angry frown to a glimmer of hope
They have not forgotten me she sighs at last

 The lonely days have passed as she leaves
He window seat to return to the village below
The hope of a new day now shines above
The bitter sweet anger slowly creeps away
The sparkle returns to her loving eyes

 The Grandmother found the love
She thought was gone at last
The hope of a new day
Is here and will never pass
The love she longing for
Has found its way home at last

 

 

 

Limerick Madness

The Purple Tree House http://purpletreehouse.blogspot.com/  is hosting limerick week. Limericks are fun five line nonsense rhymes where the first, second and fifth line rhyme and the third and fourth line rhyme. Try one of your own limericks and post it here in comments. This is a fun way to laugh and express yourself.

A Dog named Dole

A Dog Named Dole

I once knew a dog named Dole
He chanced his tail and climbed a pole
He barked all day
Rolling in the hay
Until he jumped and fell in a hole

 

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Cat Named Jack

A Cat Named Jack

I once knew a cat named Jack
He was hit in the head with a smack
He rolled on the ground
Chasing a hound
Until he stumbled and fell on his back

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A Man Named Snapple

I once knew a man named Snapple
He rolled on the ground chasing apples
He chased them to eat
By the balls of his feet
Until he ran home to the chapel

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My Grand Pappy

A Man Named Happy

I once knew a man named Happy
He was my old Grand Pappy
He was never on time
Till he fell on a dime
Now he dresses real snappy

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A Woman Named Sal

I once knew a woman named Sal
She was my very best pal
She escaped one day
In a truck full of hay
And now she’s best friend with Val

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A Man Named Oren

I once knew a man named Oren
He loved to be so foreign
He stepped on some corn
And blew out his horn
And now they call him Warren

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A Dog Called Dung

A Dog Called Dung

I once had a dog called Dung
He had the longest tongue
He rolled and played
In the sewer all day
And now he has an iron lung

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Tootless Old Hound

I once knew a toothless old hound
Who loved to roll on the ground
He rolled in the grass
To scratch his rash
Until one day they took him to the pound

Remember the Years

This poem is written by Ann LeFlore. She wrote this to her daughter after she put her on a plane to go toAmericato her Grandparents home for school. It was the first time in 18 years that they were separated. Ann lives on theislandofTahitiin French Polynesia and her daughter wanted to go to College inAmerica.

Remember the Years

Sitting here remembering the years
The roads we went down filled with fears
The river that we filled with tears
The dreams we shattered throughout out years

I’ve seen the peddles of flowers falling to the floor
The waves of the ocean breaking on shore
I’ve travelled lands so far and yet so near
I’ve sat and listened to the wind blowing in my ear

I’ve seen the stars falling from the sky
I’ve soared so high I thought I’d die
I’ve seen so much of the world through my eyes
But when I sit and dream of the years

There is no tears that I can cry
The rivers are now dry
The stars shine so bright in the sky
The days are filled with warmth and delight

 The shadows have left the night
There is only brightness and light
You are always a part of my flight for life
And you need to know where ever I go
My thought will always be with you

The Fate of our Lands

Written by Ann LeFlore in memory of my Grandfather who is Sioux Indian.

Standing here so proud and fear
Staring at the lands before my eyes
The freedom was once mine
Today trapped inside
This compound space

Roaming lands freedom at hand
Making our homes under the stars
The moon shone down upon
Our lands and stars danced
Above our heads

Our forefather’s came before
Protecting the lands for all to come
Hunting what was needed
To feed the tribes and children
Thanking the God’s
For the food of the lands

The medicine man told
Of the great white boats
To invade our lands
And we would loose all hope

They came in tribes
White as could be
Forked tongs for all to see
Promising the peace
From some God above

Striping our lands
Killing all before our eyes
Trapping us in a barren space
No where to escape

The massacre came
Without a trace
The white man rode up
To take our space

 They shot and killed
All before our eyes
Leaving us to bury
Our family and wives

 Taking our lands
Stripping our freedom
Leaving in its place
Cold and hunger
For all to embrace

 Our sacred lands no more
Shed with blood and disease
Leaving all to beg and plead
Giving us the spirits to fill our souls

 Drunk in this toxic state
Without having a fate
Nowhere to run
Our lands no more

 The white man came
As the legend was told
They stole our lands
Our food and freedom

 Leaving us broken
Our pride to hide
Deep inside waiting
For the chance to
Take back our lands

 But the white man is here
To leave no more
They stole our lands
And invaded our shores

 The freedom they spoke of
Was not for us to see
We are prisoners in our lands
Where we were meant to be free

My World

My World

Written by Ann LeFlorefor a friend of mine who was going through a depression in her life. She decided to turn to drugs and in the end she finally killed herself. It seems that nobody wanted to see what was happening and cared about her. She would disappear for days on end and not be heard of. I would spend time searching for her but could not find her. I tied hard to get her some help but she kept saying it no longer matter. I know there are many people who suffer from depression and problems in their lives. I hope this will help to save a few of them and open up people’s eyes to try and help them.

Here I sit watching my world
Come crumbling down
I try and cry out for help
But there’s nobody around

Silently I scream as I bang
My head against the wall
It seems like no one cares at all
Always felling this pain

 That I can’t explain
Like the scent of a rose
You can’t explain
Sitting here thinking to myself

 Is this life, or am I dying inside
The clock keeps ticking
As the hands of time pass me by
Nothing seems to change

 Only my problems are rearranged
When I sit and think of times
I’ve had so few good so many bad
I search for answers

 And look for things I didn’t have
Love and peace flash thru my mind
But pain and hate is all I can find
I find no hope for there’s nothing new

 I never had a dream come true
Lies, hate and agony
Thru my eyes that’s all I can see
If I’m gonna cry tomorrow
Will you wipe away my tears?

 If I’m gonna die today
Will you take away my fears?
But before I die in my sorrows
Can you answer me this
How can I laugh tomorrow?
When I can’t smile today

The Perfect Poet Award

 Thank you “The Poetry Palace Thursday Post Rally Week” for the perfect Poem Award
I nominate California Ink in Motion for the next award

A New Life Begins

Written by Ann LeFlore

A New Life Begins

 A new life is just begun
The life before is almost done
So nervous as can be
A life has begun inside of me

 You came to me
Not knowing where I’d be
Your seed was planted inside of me
You started to grow from within
I felt your tiny heartbeat incased deep within
Your movements told me you were there
This new tiny seed inside of me starts to grow
I carry you where ever I go
This new life I now share with thee

 The day you wanted to arrive
The nerves and fears rose deep inside
This new life was ready to be
I pushed and pushed crying for thee
I struggled to set you free

 You entered the world with one big push
This one tiny seed inside of me
Your movement no longer inside of me
You cried with a new hope when you were freed
The day they lay you on top of me

 I look down upon thee
This little seed inside of me
I see the life support I gave to thee
Now it is time to cut thy cord
To release this tiny seed from inside of me

 I reach my hands to comfort thee
To cradle this tiny seed of mine
You move and cry from my one last push
You move you wiggle to be free
To no longer be the little seed inside of me

 I sit and look down upon thee
As you sleep beside of me
So tiny and so fragile
I have to protect my new born seed

 When you wake and cry from hunger
I gentle caress your tiny body
Placing you close to my heart and breast
To give you food to make you grow
Oh how I love this tiny new life
I grew from a seed

 

Deep from inside of me

The Sorrow of our Times

Written by Ann LeFlore for the family of Colonel Joseph Bowers MIA in Vietnam

The Sorrow of our Times

Holy Father in Heaven above
Protect the men that we do love
Bless our children’s innocent face
Keep them safe in this unknown place
May they know that we are there
Holding hands in silent prayers

 Holy Father in Heaven above
You created him for me to love
You picked him out from all the rest
Because you know I’d love him best

 Holy Father in Heaven above
Look upon his innocent face
Protect his soul from his fears
Let him shed no more tears

 Holy Father in Heaven above
Take my son to thy above
Cleans his soul for what he’s done
Keep him safe for years to come

 Holy Father in Heaven above
Keep my son safe for me
Let him look from Heaven above
Knowing we are there to love

 Holy Father in Heaven above
Keep his memories safe with me
His touches so soft and kind
Will stay with me to the end of time

The 20 year war that started on November 1, 1955 ended on April 20, 1975 with the fall of Saigon. The war claimed more than 59,000 American men’s life. As the years raged on so did the protest and sit-ins for the anti war efforts in the United States. I was volunteering with my girlfriend from High School at the local MIA/POW office in our town. Her Mother worked at the office and we went each day after school to sell POW and MIA bracelets. As part of this effect in High School if we wore a POW or MIA bracelet we were required to write a poem, letter, or story to the POW or MIA family. My family I decided to write a small letter and enclose this poem for their son. I was inspired to write this poem after reading the one written by Daniel Steel. We carried this poem in our pockets and wore our POW and MIA bracelets. Ann was 15 when she wrote this poem and mailed it off to her MIA family.

 

The Crimson Witch

 Written by Ann LeFlore a witches tale into the dark and mysterious side of Halloween. The spirit of the season is drawing upon us and the time is near for the witches and warlocks to start to cast their spells upon the lands.

The Crimson Witch

 

She creeps in the middle of the night
Slowly wandering beside the leafy stream
Held in her nut-brown hands one crystal ball set a glow
Telling stories of how the world should be

 The luring of her cryptic song wakes the village below
Piercing through the night calling for all to come
The intoxicating rhythm rings through the air
Drawing the unsuspected nearer to her dark and dirty spell

The village people float through the air
Lifting up and flying on the song birds tail
Like the pied piper calling his sheep
She brings them there for her to keep

 Held in her crimson creepy grace
The spill is binding no one shall escape
The words are addicting floating together as one
Gathering together her goose
To pluck their feature one by one

 The people fall beneath her cherry stained feet
Her out stretched decaying arms
Brings them in closer looking beneath her charm
Sinking under her sidereal stained dark eyes

 Gaze into my crystal ball set upon a fearsome glow
The magic held within my hands
Will give you life beyond these lands
Upon the orchard’s tangled path
The golden-red has turned to brown

 One by one they start to near entangled in her grace
One swipe of her nail across their face
The translucent blood starts to flow
Drinking in her grace one touch and she will know

 She tastes the salty tear stained bloody cheeks
One by one she sees into their soul
Gazing into her crystal ball the story has been told
Each person is drawn beneath her spill

 One by one they can’t escape
Transforming into a liquid lave
Dripping between her fingers sitting in her hands
Sucking out the juices that spill upon the lands

 One by one she plucked their life
Held it in her hands
Gathered up her magic ball
To float high upon the lands

 She is not made of human form
Her life is yet to be know
What untold secrets rest between
Her dark and deadly hold

 She floats high above the lands
Blowing flames of cyclamen and rose
She sucks the flames from their eyes
To touch their perfect nostrils
And they too flame gently like a pale rose

 Next time you shall see her
Drowned between the lands
For I have meet her drinking from the sands
Standing in her gypsy gown crystal ball in hand
Begging all to see the riches of her lands