Best Convention Poems
Four “Golden Girls” seated at a table
Grey streaks our hair, but minds remain stable
Convention is underway
Michael has something to say
He opens our meeting with a fable
It’s about a tortoise that beats a hare
Some of the “fast writers” begin to glare
Joyce, Francine and Barbara know
It takes time for verse to grow
We’re the queens of rewriting; this we swear
Iolanda’s introduced to read her book
“Lava of my Soul,” no gobbledygook
We’re mesmerized by each line
At the end we toast with wine
Joyce says, “Now those words took some time to cook.”
It’s Karen’s turn to read “Silent Whispers”
We see tears falling into John’s whiskers
“Tears of joy,” Francine exclaims
For Karen’s Best Seller fame
Applause rings out from grateful listeners
After the “meet and greet” it’s nearly dawn
The crowd starts to thin as our comrades yawn
Joyce, Francine call it a night
But Barbara still sits upright
We two remain when most others are gone
One poet called us “Late Night Cockroaches”
This indignity did not encroach us
We call ourselves “LNCs”
Awake in wee hours with ease
Waiting for our princes to approach us
That’s when the James Brothers draw near
Peranteau and Fraser, to make it clear
With two erotic writers
LNCs pull “all nighters”
Knowing that we can propose; it’s Leap Year!
*Entry for Michael’s “A Table of Four” contest
At my table: Carolyn Devonshire
Joyce Johnson
Francine Roberts
Barbara Gorelick
My name is Gary Fields
And I am at the Poetry Convention
Their are a myriad of Poet's
They are all in contention
There are so many that I may
Want to mention'
So, pay attention
Fore they must do this
In abstention
At my table there are three
Their are four including me
The second choice in my contention
IS Dr. Ram Mehta
He is such an easy catch
He is a voice/a reflection
He shares' so much love and affection
Being one of so few words
His disposition is the best
And his Human Psyche will
Never rest'
Could this be some sort of test
That his deepest guarded secret's
Are guarded close to his chest
Being a doctor and all
It is unlikely that he will ever confess
Third at the table is the X DESTROYER X POET
Due to the lack of word's
She always' have something for ya
And will certainly destroy ya
If not, then simply ignore ya
Fore she deserves' to seat here
And not just on the foyer
It is a main bone of contention
There is no reason why I can't enjoy ya
Or at least releave the tension
With her advanced degree
her suplituding pensoin for Poetry
It seems' that her messages' are
Aimed straight for me
She give's to this her all
She never seem to miss a call
And to past the test
One may think that
She seem's to be a little obsessed
Most of all
She keeps' her secret
Buried so close to her breast
And what wonderful breast they
Might be
Only saving for us
The one's she profess to be the best
But never the less
She rises' among the rest
Fouth at the table is Ms. Sweetheart of Poetry
Wish she will spend more Poetry with me
And plain not just ignore me
Because I'm a fan of her now
She introduced me to this race
She is all ways' on the case
She is fully comfortable in her space
I just hope that she won't have to use
All of her mace,
She composes' herself with grace
Fore this is so much an adventure
And not just some silly old Snail Race
If I haven't said enough by now
Then it is because I am running
Out of space, or being run out of town
But, there is always one next year
Same time, manybe not
The same old place
GF
Gary Fields
Dr. Ram Mehta
X DESTROYER X POET
LINDA Marie/Sweetheart of Poetry
Carol (Next on Deck)
*******For the Contets "Tt The Convention
JUNE 2011
L.A. moonbathing
Soup convention is haunted
Ghost prowls through bedrooms
Scripca leads the search party
Sheet falls down, Ruben is found
For Michael’s “Tanka me a Dream” contest
By Carolyn Devonshire
*Actually did have a crazy dream about a Soup Convention in Los Angeles last year.
Barbara Gorelick, Iolanda Scripca, Karen O’Leary and I were “moonbathing” on a
resort balcony (like Morticia Adams would). We heard about a ghost that was going
through Soup members’ rooms and Iolanda bravely led the charge to find the
ghost. Barbara and I joined her, but Karen chose to keep moonbathing. When I
posted a blog on the dream, Ruben Ortellao said it was he who had been the
ghost. It was fun reliving this crazy dream.
To anyone and all
I am awestruck
as I attend
this some-what altered afternoon
altered in a way by
poetic humans
tiny tables among giants on words
sharing all unselfish things as
pen and tea harmonize in their hands.
These peaceful poets including I at this convention
all paired by four
tease time and essence before noon is dawn.
In all sincerity;
how nice it is to be a man at this table
among women
whose beauty write themselves.
To my left of me my Mikki,
melting ice-cream on hot dessert
brings light to the table with
The Lull
and like a Christmas present
All eyes were opened to a new awakening
And all could see The Breeze Amongst A Willow
a painting Emma drew with her words
the words that wind the wind to blow
poetry upon paper and pen.
Its nice to see Emma in front of me
frowning freestyles and smiling sonnets
causing our table to laugh its wood off!
Meanwhile
to the right of Emma,
Andrea,
meditates the Measure of Happiness with two words:
smileage...mileage.
Oh what beautiful art thou displays
poetic godmother; professor of poetry.
These visitors of poets I do adore.
In thus they asked for me to speak of me...
and I recited Visitors nervous with nerves
for with each line I scared myself.
Next time I'll think I'll speak of Sleeping Kisses.
at the table:
Johnny Sumler
MichelleMacDonald
Emma Mantle
Andrea Dietrich
Table of Four
New partners at each meal, oh my, what fun.
This time its Andrea, Sara and Carolyn.
Our entrée is fish. Give you one guess who caught it.
She had offered it free but the restaurant bought it.
Michael has pulled this convention together.
Everything has been perfect to even the weather.
John has just given the inspired invocation.
We’re all on the program in convoluted rotation.
My attention right now is on these three friends
Who have given encouragement and love without end.
They are just as I pictured, so pretty and sweet
and each as delighted as I am to meet.
Now that I have met them, I am suddenly shy.
They are so talented that I wonder why
they would spend time with me, the oldest one here.
I soon feel included. Each one is a dear.
To get more acquainted we speak of our lives,
Andrea and Sara are both happy wives.
Carolyn is a young widow the same, as was I.
We laugh at some stories, at others we cry.
We talk very fast to get everything in.
To miss such a chance would be a grave sin.
We find deep connections to carry away
to ponder on later on some lonely day.
In four days of convention, we’ll meet all the others
and soon we’ll be closer than sisters and brothers.
When the meetings are over and it’s time for goodbye,
we’ll know we’ve made friends to the day that we die.
“A Table of Four” contest
Joyce Johnson
Carolyn Devonshire
Andrea Dietrich Won a 4th in this contest.
Sara Kendrick
In Las Vegas is where we will be
for the night life is something to see.
We can take in a show
and then let the wine flow;
but the daytime is for poetry!
Any member of Poetry Soup
may attend. Let me give you the scoop:
on the first day at noon
we will gather and swoon
at the readings of all in our group.
Where we meet, it will be like a fair
with food and fun, seeing who’s there
with our very own eyes,
checking out gals and guys.
Who’s got flair, and who’s still got their hair?
On a weekend we’ll do this in fall,
reading fave poems inside a huge hall.
One poem each; make it short
or we’ll have to abort!
Then we’ll mingle and dance. Have a ball!
March 10, 2019
(27/06/2011)
There I was, the only woman
With three others
I was the most nervous one
I looked at other tables
There he was, the poet who can act in his words
While at the other table groups
All woman, four other poets
Chit-chatting in chattering
I could only look down, no eager of confidence
Back to observe my own table
Next to me was a calm and gentle poet
Yet his words act like blades
Gently black at times
Full of flowery romance at the same time
Next to him was other gentleman
Who masters all the topics
From social to politics
The other one, very keen
With his wisdom words and sweet writings
You have no idea how grateful I was
Being counted in such a massive convention
Sitting equally with artists in words
I lifted my head then and blended-in
I was one amongst the perfections
At my table:
Myself - Dinda Minardi
Calm and gentle poet with sharp words - Michael J. Falotico
Gentleman who masters all the topics - Dr. Ram Mehta
Wisdom and sweet writings gentleman - Rick Berry
For "Table of Four" Contest
Sponsored by: Michael J. Falotico
Good morning ladies and gentlemen and welcome to beautiful Zurich Switzerland and the First Annual Poetry Soup Convention. Welcome poets, linguists, scribes, metrists and rhymers. Welcome poets from Canada, the UK, U.S.A., Australia and many other countries from around the world.
This convention is for all seasoned poets and young dilettantes. Our key speakers this week will be Will Shakespeare to talk about sonnets. Horace will discuss Latin odes. Homer will give a demonstration on epic poetry. Lewis Carroll will explain light poetry. And last but not least Edgar Poe will give a reading of Gothic poetry.
All poets are welcome to enter the First Annual Poetry Soup Convention Poetry Contest. The grand prize will be the title of Poet Laureate and honor on the Poetry Soup webpage. We will also be offering classes on prosody, onomatopoeia, enjambment and Lambic Pentameter. We will have booths set up in the main hall for help with grammar, syllable counting and rhyming tools.
So welcome all, enjoy all things poetic this week, make friends and have fun. One final reminder before we let you go is we are serving lunch promptly at twelve noon and we will be having Alphabet soup with sage, enjoy.
The First Annual Poetry Soup Convention Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
3/7/19
The witches convention this year was being held on virtual Zoom.
They did not like this at all, it took out lots of their wonder and sass.
What about broomstick dances, our cauldron contests? This is gloom!
This may help, one of them said, falling off onto her corpulent ass.
They all began laughing and doing whatever they could do to show others
That they could cackle and curse and dance and do other wild things too.
They videotaped the convention, and took it home to their grandmothers.
They laughed at their antics and had so much fun in this virtual zoo.
I engineered an intricate design,
determined to be action,
not thoughtful stasis.
But, isolate and distant --
a preserver of decorum --
formal, unexposed, and safe --
with bounds determined
by tight, sane strictures,
I did not struggle,
could not escape nor abandon place --
became, instead, a creature
habit-ridden: a cousin
to the circus seal
that honks a horn
for fish.
There is a tension of expectation in the air
I adjust my skirt and straighten my hair
Will the other poets be let down when meeting me
I wonder how true my impressions of them will be
In one corner the rhyming poets have gathered
And arranged themselves in alphabetical order.
The nature poets stand near a faux waterfall
Where ferns and orchids adorn a rock wall.
The rollicking laughter exposes the comics
As opposed to the quieter, even, iambics.
Then right in the center a crowd so familiar
Across the room their identities - clearer
A face for the names I have learned over time
At last we are meeting, our lives to align
Andrea,Connie and Kathryn from PFT
Gals that have always encouraged me
Anna-Lise, Line, Debbie and Eve
Constance, Carol, Monteray and Shadow.
Their poems reflect where their hearts are at
If your name isn't here it is etched in my heart.
Then the guys appear- such good looking gents
Who always take time for careful comments.
Paul, Richard, Laurie, Tom, Vijay and Teppo.
Who I'm blessed to befriend
All talented poets whose work I commend.
As we mingle with others we haven't met yet.
There's Drake arranging an open- mike set
Carrie,Kim, Seren, Debbie - Sara,and Joyce
Finally now I'll be hearing their voices.
Brian, Dr Ram, Devnath, Tom, Pandita and others
The numbers of names seems too numerous to cover.
Some with only a fleeting encounter
Craig, Catie, Chris A and Ruben O
It's mostly through blogs their characters show.
Suddenly morning blooms on the hill
I awake from the dream with the sun on my sill
Perhaps it will never come to pass
Meeting the Soupers in one place enmasse.
STRAND SELECT X,any form,any theme
Contest Judged: 2/22/2020
First Place
A Passel of People Participated from all Portions of the nation.
The Purpose - To Promulgate the Pickle Pickers and Packers Association!
Parsimonious President Dill Presented a Pretty Powerful oration,
To Pitch a Passionate Plan for their Prestigiious organization!
Picker seminars Provided Pertinent Particulars for Participants,
Pertaining to the Proper Pampering for Perpetuating Pickle Plants.
Packer Panels Propounded ways to Perfect Professional Panache,
For Packing dills and gherkins Perfectly so that they dare not smash!
A blue-ribbon Panel Picked the Pickle Princess in all her Persnickety Pomp.
A working Party Picked the Pickle Prince and his Pompous aide-de-camp!
A Patron Provided a Plastic Plaque for the Pickle Picker of the Year.
A Packer won a Prize as top Pickle Purveyor, the Pinnacle of his career!
A quorum was needed but a Passel of People were Pickled in the Pub.
The President was Perturbed, not easily Placated, there in lay the rub!
A Plethora of Pixilated Pickers and Packers Presently repaired,
Protesting that they were Prepared to vote, not in the least impaired!
It was Paramount that the Proceedings not end on a sour note,
So the President Proclaimed a Positive quote for all to Promote:
"We must Project Professionalism and Perfection in great number,
As we Proudly Proclaim the Palatability of the Prosaic cucumber!"
Dragon badly wanted to visit the Snowman Convention this year.
He knew they go to the South Pole when spring begins to appear.
Dragon was resolute about this; he REALLY wanted to go there.
So he wrapped up in a blanket and rolled in the snow, so very fair.
A burly-er snowman had never been seen before, plus he had a tail!
But he quickly started to melt, our little, hot guy, of massive scale!
So the snowmen put him in an igloo, determined to save their friend.
They carried him like a pharaoh, up on their shoulders to contend…
But they were fighting a losing warm weather tide, from deep inside!
Never had they met such a melting snowman, no matter how they tried.
But snowmen never give up; they kept plying him with ice on all sides.
Finally they climbed upon a glacier, tucking him in a fissure, deep inside!
Now the fissure melted to an ice cave, as it continued to melt all around.
Before they knew it, a huge palace formed beneath his feet, quite sound.
Slowly a ballroom formed, and dragon sunk lower, as ice Melted beneath!
Yep! The Dragon exhaust was daunting, and worrisome, at the very least.
Then the moisture dripped into chandeliers, as mirrors gave them such light.
As the interloper who’d caused them such trouble, became a welcome sight.
Indeed this was the first home these poor snowmen had ever, really had.
Ballroom, bedrooms, meeting places, and halls, made everyone, so very glad.
No more, would they have to stand out in cold driving winds, for all their lives!
Dragon was a hero, honored, as they chiseled him, a statue dutifully made of ice.
Stories would be sung on the wind for eons, of Dragon’s serendipitous surprise.
And the Snowmen would have a comfy home so artfully, perfectly contrived.
And no one minded a sneeze or a fart as another room had appeared with a start.
Indeed, they actually welcomed them, for all that they could eventually impart.
But even Dragons need help to go home, as everyone pointed the way to roam.
Luckily, Dragon’s penguins had come, to help our little guy, find his way…
All the way home, and of his story…nobody believed him, except his penguins,
And us, of course… The End.
Written 12-29-2016
My friends Rosie, Hammond and me
Had insomnia and were in the kitchen one Sunday
Discussing The Nuclear Waste Medicine Convention
We wined and dined and had a good old time,
Hammond in his Spandex boxer shorts and
me feeding Tid- Bits of Listerine soaked tissue
to my crazy, vacuum salesman biting Bichon Friese,
"Are we going to go to that gig?" we all asked eath other
After all, the convention was held on a UFO.
"Ahh, heck, maybe we should go," we deliberated
"Otherwise we may be in Dire Straits and infiltrated!"
So hence we went- to the Nuclear Waste Medicine Convention
Speaker talked about lunar craters and wormholes.
Me, I was drifting off to sleep, as Rosie
held her hands to her ears as if in pain-
Hammond asked,"What is there to gain? Let's go
and blow this idiot convention."
There was nothing to gain except a fun way to go
Riding around in a UFO.
A. Green
I dreamt
I was a big success
a public speaker
much sought after
I was in such high demand
forever invited
to travel the world
One day I was
up north in Nunavut
that’s not too far
from the North Pole
I stepped up to the podium
I looked out at everyone
I froze
unable to
get a word out
I got the giggles
and couldn’t stop
The old tip of imagining
your audience in the buff
always worked for me
so here I had in front of me
sitting ever so quietly
one hundred bare bears
wide eyed
just looking at me
waiting to be
let in
on what
was
so funny
AP: Honorable Mention 2020