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On Writing And Words Places Poems | On Writing And Words Poems About Places

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Details | Quatrain | |

Commenter's, I Thank You

Now where does this Highlander start
To thank those commenter's, present and past
So many read and absorbed
Their kindness to me always lasts

Dr.Ram and Carol Brown
My African Queen 'Miss Wilma Neel's
Michael from New York City
Whose comments I internally feel

There's Andrea, the Utah babe
And Carolyn, from Florida State
Their writing I so enjoy
For their words reverberate

John Loving is such a wonderful guy
There's Sara and Doris too
Deb Radke and Sharon Ruebel our newbies
Made welcome to our literal zoo

P.D. Skat and Constance
Barbara, Iolanda and June
Francine from lovely Nanaimo
Many thanks to all of you

To Ruben, Celene and Raul
Your past writes have helped me grow
Along with so many others
You have helped my words to flow

Blimey! I better not miss out the Brits
Sarah, Brian, Sharon and June
And Anna Marie, away down in Wales
I have read in my front room

Many dudes I also have to thank
Harry Horsman the Geordie boy
The two Roberts, Dufresne and Hinshaw
Whose writings bring so much joy

There's also the bard called Peranteau
Billy the Kidster, Cecil as well
HG, Catie Lindsey and James Goff
Who marshalls his words real swell

And lastly there's the thousands of others
This character has ran out of space
Keep the ink in you pen gently flowing
Your names to me is your face

Golly! this is turning into a story
And many told by the above writing troops
As I marvel at your writing ingredients
Keep writing for this wonderful Soup








http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-16.php


Details | Rhyme | |

The Man in the Wilderness

Feeling like a lodger
In my own home
Thankful for my music
And my new found roam

Families and communities
They are just so hard to find
But in April 2009
I found the most precious kind

I found the name amusing
So the button i clicked on to see
The layout was very inviting
Like an open door should be

For in a matter of minutes
On first uploading a poem
This Highlander was content
He had found a welcome home

So many lovely writers
Poets who share their bless
No longer this Scotsman is
The Man in the Wilderness



http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/me.php


Details | Couplet | |

The Prophet's Song

In relation to deliberation on this poetry nation
A writer is he as clever as can be, lures you to he

With stories of writers he fashions with words
Encrypted solutions to be read to be heard

This newbie of writers who has arrived on our shores
Gathers driftwood for his writing hoard

In clever approach in his delightful encroach
He mixes in the mix, for its against him to poach

His verse is so free it gains respect of the wind
It resonates desires to be read and unwound

His name deciphered, the destroyer of poetry
This writer so cute, knows who he wants to be

This mask he has chosen is entirely his voice
To remove and become, is basically, simply his choice




Details | Free verse | |

Grand Canyon

Some people are voices
On the edge of rocks
With steep slopes and cliffs.
Some people are echoes
At the bottom of walls
Carved by rushing waters.


Details | Rhyme | |

A Palindrome Tale

A Palindrome Tale

I’ve got a tale to tell you of travel, love and lust
The travel, it was joyful, my love life was a bust
I met a girl in Tulsa, next day my diary read
A slut nixes sex in Tulsa; “Dammit, I’m mad” I said
So I went off to Europe to see the Mona Lisa
I thought it was in Italy; but as I pee, sir, I see Pisa!
A Delia saw I was ailed; I’m a fool; aloof am I
When she offered me spaghetti, I said “I prefer pi”
And then I found Naomi – Naomi did I moan?
I did, did I? I can not lie.  I headed back to home
And then I met this Madam; as mad as Adam, she
Evil did I dwell, lewd I did live; God saw I was dog tired
Live not on evil they did say; Then my luck expired
Revered now, I live on. O did I do no evil I wonder ever
No sir, panic is a basic in a prison where I dwelt
Ned, I am a maiden; not a banana baton had I felt

Mdailey	3/31/12

A slut nixes sex in Tulsa; 
Dammit, I’m mad 
as I pee, sir, I see Pisa!
Delia saw I was ailed 
I’m a fool; aloof am I
I prefer pi
Naomi did I moan?
I did, did I? 
mad as Adam
Evil did I dwell, lewd I did live
God saw I was  dog
Live not on evil 
Revered now, I live on. O did I do no evil I wonder ever
No sir, panic is a basic in a prison 
Ned, I am a maiden
not a banana baton 





Details | Limerick | |

Where Talent Lives

While doing my daily internet loop
I read some poems at Poetry Soup
Some souls were bared
Emotions shared
By a wonderfully talented group

So many unknowns are gathered together
Brandishing their talents without a tether
Notable skills
From gifted quills
Flocking together like birds of a feather

Whether mundane or totally bizarre
Through words they express just who they are
Some young, some old
Some shy, some bold
Each as marvelous as a shooting star

To the nameless owners of this great site
Thank you for giving our poetry flight
No longer adrift
Because of your gift
You are the beacon that brings us to light


Details | Limerick | |

My Table of Three plus Me

A poetry convention is a wow
Our writes we endeavour to plough
We'll meet so many friends
To enhance writing trends
Our strengths are as thick as the bough

To my table I have decided to seat
Three ladies whom I'd so love to meet
They are favourites of mine
And they will be for some time
Their poetry to read is my treat

The first lady to seat is a gem
Her novels just shine from her pen
She's a New Jersey girl
Who makes my heart twirl
Her poetry flows 'tres bien'

The second lady to sit at my table
If given the chance, I'd surely enable
She's Maltese, she's Celene
A Mediterranean Queen
Her name would be beautifully labelled

The third lady who I now show to her chair
Her writing just makes me openly stare
It's oozes life's desire
It makes me aspire
Table Top Mountain, I wish I was there




<*> Not for any contest, but I thank Michael for the idea, ty <*>



Thank you Carolyn Devonshire, Celene Crescent & Wilma Neels for being you,xxx




http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-16.php









Details | Verse | |

A Coffee Bar with Orange Paint

A coffee bar with orange paint --
   Brown tables on a tiled, grey floor --
Soft light within blown glass above --
   A neon sign hangs by the door.

I come here sometimes just to write.
   A coffee bar with orange paint
To some would be apalling; but
   I do not see it as a taint.

Tonight an artist's work is hung
   Upon those walls in bold display;
A coffee bar with orange paint
   Allows her dreams to have their say.

I like the color in these walls --
   A brazen hue, not pale or quaint;
And in this place I weave my words --
   A coffee bar with orange paint.


Details | Limerick | |

Canadian Chris

There's a guy on the Soup called Chris
Captain Hook or Peter Pan is his wish
Boy his Blogs are so good
By this Canadian dude
His information sure is the Biz










http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-16.php


Details | Limerick | |

Trooping of all Colours

The day I joined the Soup Frankly I was so cock-a-hoop So many kind poets Who didn't all know it Most definitely the best writing troop http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-12.php


Details | ABC | |

Grandma's Garden

 

Apples.. beetles.. caterpillars..
daisies everywhere.. 
fertile ground.. hollyhocks.. 
Ivy jumbled kegs..
leafy mint.. nematodes..
oregano..peas.. 
quiet rest sunsets.. tomatoes under vines.. 
wheelbarrows.. xanadu yearning zeal!


Details | Lyric | |

The laughing moon

It's here now under a converted sky
Where daylight has loss it’s might
Hours before the green hills had sight, with 
splattered  hints of yellow wild flowers so bright
Now time has casts a different light
  
It here now where the heavens sings an evening song 
With twinkled lights on a moon lit prong
Dancing stars and dreaming of mars 
Its here on this transformed spot 
I will sit and jot

It is here now as I lay back on this cool grass, and write a story 
with the heavens the color of quarry
Of jeweled eyes in the skies 
that connected to stories, some disguised 
With silver spoons and astrological loons
 
On dream away, dream on by
to the earths motions and lullabies
It is here now time to take a brake
from life’s work ,and worries and heart ache 
Try it yourself remember when, you were a child
when you looked up the night and smiled amen
   

 
 
                                       


Details | Quatrain | |

TO SHAKESPEARE WITH ADMIRATION

He was the bard from Stratford, and as a teenager
he helped his father in his trade; he married and had children
and became the most popular and admired play writer
in all England...acting was also his other pleasurable passion.    


Curious Queen Elisabeth was one of the thousand spectators,
who came to see him in the Globe theater...she shed tears, 
and was stunned by the performance of his timeless plays,
and yet, some of his fellow-poets criticized him for his writings!


I wish I had lived in that Victorian era so intellectual and refined,
and had met him in person and had showed him my ample admiration;
I would have asked him the secret, which made him so legendary and loved...
and he would have whispered it to me, to make me revel in that revelation!     


I have read his inspiring works, and tragedies rampantly occur
from " Romeo and Juliet"...the Verona's immortal lovers, through" Hamlet "
whose insanity was undoubtedly caused by the specter of his father; 
and why didn't Shakespeare choose less dramatic plays not ending in death?


He wanted to teach us indelible lessons to show us how the human spirit
can be passionate, adamant, loveless, envious, cruel, unfair and treacherous...
to outline all kinds of guilt: from murder to envy so well-expressed with eloquence;
it's no mystery to anyone how he conjured up such plots with grief, madness and wit!    


Shakespeare was no ordinary kid, and he played with his siblings on Henley Street,
neighbors saw him trot to his grammar school, later he would make everyone weep; 
early in adolescence, did his prodigious mind envision one from a vague thought?
It's no wonder that he is widely read even today...hear his speak, he'll impart worth!  


Entered in Amy Green's contest, " Wow Me With Inspiration "


Details | Senryu | |

Maltese Maiden

This dark haired beauty Whose romantic words grace us Our Maltese Maiden http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup.php


Details | Lyric | |

Day after Day

There’s places and faces where I’ve never been
some of them laughing and living in sin
Some of them hurting from being alone
And the places seem part of my own
The rhythm is flinging these words in my head
Against walls that refuse to be bled
Riding on nightmares through darkness and blight
Then lazily cruising in dreams
In this odessic searching
For reason for being
Nothing’s as bad as it seems
But on turning away
In my off handed way
I’m so tempted to say
Another could view it as fey






Another attempt at explaining my motives for living and writing about it


Details | Free verse | |

Generic Minds

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them


Details | Free verse | |

My Love---a very special original Japanese poem

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION


Details | Couplet | |

A Different Verse

A different time, a different place
A different life and different face

Different wants and different needs
Different values and different creeds

Different Pomp and Circumstance
Different songs and different dance

Different likes and different hate
Different foods on different plate

A different boat on a different sea
A different you and a different me


Details | Narrative | |

THE RICHEST HERITAGE OF HUMANKIND

Literature was pursued
by the greatest individuals who ever lived,
and they left us works of unsurpassable wisdom;
human emotions have always been the same, 
and this can't attest to the fact that they will not change anytime soon,
but the freer we are, the further we go up in our balloon.


The richest heritage of Humankind
is found in the written word, which is heard often and not really understood;
where would we be today without the plays and sonnets of Shakespeare that were quite sad,  
or Dante's famous canto, not excluding superb works by modern writers?...
During the dark ages, monks translated books from Greek and Latin into common languages;
as the barbarians destroyed everything found in their path, civilization did not end.


Tragedies of famous people attracted the lucrative minds of poets who had heard of them,
thus embellishing them with their vivid imagination and present actual facts...I follow in
their poetic footsteps, writing down stories that have recently happened, or occurred
before I was born; and with ideas as interesting as theirs, I continue in that tradition
without envying their unaging expressions and distinguished style, but by aggrandizing them.


Literature has finally found its merited place in History, unlikely a hundred years ago,
more people are voraciously reading, and keeping the writers busy by admiring
their sensational works, making comments of encouragement to boost up their optimism;
and to theaters they go and spent an entire night to listen to drama and satire...to scoff,
laugh, or cry when emotions intensify by the sconces of the electric lights; and cheering,
they applaud the richest heritage of Humankind on stage, and are captivated by its scenario.



Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


Details | Shape | |

O h i o

*OHIO*     O     O     OHIO     *OHIO*
 H     H      H     H         !         H     H
 I      I       I---- I         !          I      I
*OHIO*    O     O      OHIO    *OHIO*


Details | Light Poetry | |

A book with no end

Our dialogue is like a book with no end
Pages without numbers a writers friend
The ink in my pen will never run dry
My mind feeding me a constant flow
Visions brought forward places unknown
Emotions explored from crevices below
Delight in the stories and places i see
Together a partnership - perfect harmony
Each turn of our page a newly created phrase
A dance within the sphere of heart and mind
Just like ribbons coloured and intertwined
Our dialogue is but what gives me light


Details | I do not know? | |

The Library (Words to the Wise)

The Library (Words to the Wise)


Shhhhh!  No talking strictly enforced!
Most folks abide, except children, of course
And those who can’t read, don’t care, or don’t want
Goof off in the corners, or sneeze
As sharp, darting eyes of librarians haunt
Do you think you can do as you please?

The wisdom of giants exudes from the walls
Words that amaze, mesmerize, and enthrall
Lie untouched, undusted, forgot, and unseen
For racks of harlequin romance
Replaced in small minds by pulp magazines,
The classics have lost their last chance

Mindless amusement is what the world craves
Poe and Lord Byron must cringe in their graves
Dickens and Tolstoy and Steinbeck don’t matter
Now Paris and Brittany rule
All lost in celebrity gossip and chatter
The true kings and queens look the fool

But one in a thousand sees past all the fluff
They pass by the newspaper comics and stuff
To linger and learn from some eloquent master
Igniting a dazzling epiphany
A small step for culture to detour disaster
And rise above kitsch and banality.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Soup Hall of Fame

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION


Details | Free verse | |

Roll Call

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION








Details | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part I

Gathering grey clouds
Whip crack of frothing thunder
Is this Africa?


Details | Rhyme | |

SOUP Spoonin'

Online tonite
looks like 
a whole lotta' spoonin'
goin' on in the "Soup"

nosin' around the comment coral
I see love 
amongst the group

yessir'...
hot Soup!
stirred 
not shaken
marriage scent in the air
no fakin'

where it leads...
we shall see
I know some 
are dippin' crackers in the "Soup"
but Lawd' knows 
IT AIN'T ME!~


Details | Monoku | |

A Poet's Home




No matter how long you stay away, you can always come back home again ~*~
Note: 1/21/12 For Carol's "What I like Best about Poetry Soup" Contest Annalise Brigham *2nd Place


Details | Haiku | |

This Place (Haiku)

(Paint me a picture with your words)


Clear rivers of life 
will flow through this handsome place 
Colored with true love 

© Adell Foster


Details | Verse | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Going Home

What is it to see the soil of home again?
A welcome, snow-struck and a return
To cold; sharp white contrasts sunburn.
We converse in broken tongues to men

We know, hooked on holiday language
Comprised of wandering hand signs.
Collect the car and pay parking fines,
Drive through towns and over a bridge

Until we reach the Western gateway.
Oh when will we arrive at our house?
No camels there, only field mouse
Which are eaten by our cat anyway.

The plane flies for an age, slyly yawning
Through the stretching, pealing sky,
A knife through air; what it is to fly.
Our travels over; a new day is dawning.


Details | Haiku | |

Dive Deep For Large Fish

dive deep for large fish

surface waters hold minnows

trophies are in-depth

 

 

(February 9, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin

(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved