Best Lettering Poems
I watched it emerge
from out of the fog, monumental
in size, a sheer cliff face of steel
moving pass me, almost
quieter than my breath
but for a whispered wake
running from its bow.
Something this big
should have made
more noise.
A black hull bore scars
of scrapings and rust bleeding out
of fissures along its length.
The fog seemed to oil its way,
its shape looming large
then slowly growing smaller
as it slid down river until
it dimmed and disappeared.
In that moment its passage
was a mystery, a brief apparition
of something beyond the dimension
of ordinary things. The quiet
of its passing, the dark bulk
and beauty of its presence
was magnificent
and overpowering.
It was like a shadow cast
by a mythical beast
coalescing out of history,
infiltrating the mind then
dissolving once more
into a place somewhere
hidden in its magical past,
suddenly brought back
to this world
with its registered port
written in rusty lettering
on its stern - MONROVIA
Faved PoetrySoup poems, I've many a favorite
Are such a treasure trove of Joy
Each one so exquisite
I've many, but imagine, I'll have many, many more
I wish they could be bound in books
Purchased through a PS store!
Leaves of golden artistry of poets that I love
A little bit of heaven on earth
Like sunshine from above
I thought to name these poets, that have written
On my heart, but that would take
Me quite some time,
I don't know where to start!
Suffice to say, I'm blessed, I love this precious group
What treasure troves of blessings
These poems on PoetrySoup
Keep shining, keep on writing, your voices like a song
The aroma of sweet fragrance
Gently stirring all day long
For each new poem that's written, a gem within the sea
A gift of golden treasure is your
Precious poetry
My image shared is just a 'dream' book of sorts, an
idea of how it may be easy for PS to create a personalized
book of our favorite file poems from our dear PS poets.
My mother had an old empty scrapbook I inherited,
I applied the gold lettering just for an example.
Maybe Team Poetry could brainstorm an idea of this
sort, I think it would be wonderful. Anyway, just a thought.
<3
On The Suicide Of Dorothy Hale
Known for her self portraits and her politics
Her famous unibrow and her elaborate dress
And for twice marrying Mexico's most renown muralist
Her paintings which bore her pain were well received
And to this day are still growing in success
However my intrigue lies in her greatest fail
Not still life nor self portrait rather
Her commissioned portrait of late actress Dorothy Hale
Asked for by Hale's friend publisher of Vanity Fair
Intended as a gift for the grieving mother
No doubt a caring gesture to ease untold despair
But Frida Kahlo in her visceral style
Produced The Suicide Of Dorothy Hale
A piece which did more to trumpet her own guile
More accurate and macabre a portrayal than anyone would expect
The actress in her leap from her high-rise suite
A ghostly image draped in white falling to her death
And at the bottom her lifeless body replete with bloody mess
Corsage of yellow roses pinned to her favourite black dress
For me this painting speaks more of Frida Kahlo's honesty
Than any self depiction
Her character, personality, and her absolute conviction.
17.05.06
At the bottom of the painting in blood red lettering reads
"In New York City on the 21st of October 1938, at 6:00 in the morning,
Dorothy Hale committed suicide by throwing herself from a very high window
in the Hampshire House. In her memory [...] this retablo was executed
By Frida Kahlo."
What trouble’s brewed in the sea. The bold lettering spells it out.
- says the poet
MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE
B eached on this death trap island, and bereft
o f bread and lodging. Have you found my
t ow? Desperately need you to return it!
T errible storm tossed me overboard. Waves high.
L ying! It was my first mate! He’s had a laugh at my
e xpense. He won’t forgive me for drinking his rum…
Announcing it in the paper that day,
the LGBT club soon got under way,
meeting at Bruce's bike shop on their harley's,
is where they'd all meet before going on their journey,
some newcomers arrived as well,
and from the looks of them couldn't
tell if they were a woman or a fella,
some looking kind of like Mrs. Doubtfire,
while the younger ones like a Caitlin Jenner,
Bruce started scratching his head
and started to wonder,
why all of a sudden his club was so full of transgender's,
then he realized when he looked at the paper ad,
that he had to change the clubs lettering just a tad,
because his Lumberjacks Go Biking Tuesday's club,
was not going to be used anymore after that
coming out masquerade fad!
Listening heartbeat,
Hearing with the soul-ears,
Living to change another day.
Pen challenged by season quick of emotions.
Than,
Muse enters the heartbeat,
Friends,
Family,
Love ones weave basket within freeze-frame moments,
Always sharing within life in one.
Than the will to carry on to paper love.
Touching the hearts of many,
Even those not knowing.
Yet,
Blessing in every traveling hour.
Soul free bound to express to share.
Helping hands where the physical cannot reach,
Inner person free to wonder journey through the impossible,
Making a difference-
Never know who life maybe saved by the stroke of a pen charity.
In the question,
Did the day changed,
Or only obeyed,
Passed the everyday season bringing.
Carry on Tamiviolet Machas,
Heaven knows you can do this act of love,
Poetry lettering-
Mossy vines camouflage decaying headstone
Thus hidden and fallen into disrepair
Foliage ever swallow so it cowers
Deeply weatherworn lettering embraced there
Threads of piercing light filtering through windblown
Limbs surrounded by trees, ferns, and wildflowers
Strewn mounds of decomposed fallen trees below
Cool nature's spirit aspirating showers
9/28/2020
Writing Challenge - Decay - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Formerly, dear,
my books like velvet-dressed
put aside, perfectly straight.
Last light flickers
dusk bids, “God bless,”
as I gently turn on the night,
the antique brass polished,
and symphonic-lettering hooks
harmonize in the gentler time
before the internet.
Roses flourish in crystal vase,
cranberries and ivy vines contemplate
the corpulent beauty of day’s end.
A table round in burgundy gown,
intricate lace cradles intimate thought.
My chamomile tea relaxes on lyrics bound,
stacked red and brown dust jackets burning.
I write and write and write.
In the end sits
my inkwell and quill,
a magnifique glass illuminating his name,
my spectacles
and a flowery letter to my kin —
all wrapped up as I go to bed,
in the romance of Victorian daze.
10/15/2019
Fear feasts on our insides
And wrecks decision-making
Evil jumps in with glee
And another one loses trust
And another one down
And another one down
And another one loses trust
Evil grins
At what might have been
As another one loses trust
Housing fails
Markets, too
And countries follow suit
“Be afraid
Be very afraid”
Used to be a joke
But now it’s the match
That lights the glint
In Evil’s eye
Every day we’re fed
Too much detailed
information
- Perhaps true;
Perhaps not -
With stated directives
To be
Very
Afraid
As Evil laughs
And Fear cavorts
Through our souls
With another one down
And another one down
And another one loses trust
I will myself to turn off the media
Not to ignore the warnings;
But to avoid overexposure
To the cancer-causing
Smoking gun
Of fear
According to Article 37, Section 202 of the Code of Federal Regulation, the Congress states that “words and short phrases such as names, titles, and slogans; familiar symbols or designs; mere variations of typographic ornamentation, lettering or coloring; mere listing of ingredients or contents” are not copyrightable.
So thanks to John Deacon of Queen…
As my father in law's Alzheimer's progressed he became very concerned with the contents of his wallet. We gave him a pretend credit card, fake money and his driver's license. It made him happy.
My first wallet had a cowboy hat on the face and stitching around the side,
It was stamped in gold lettering as being made from genuine split rawhide.
It carried whatever few coins I had then it zipped my money to safely guard,
And in the ID slot I stuffed my Hopalong Cassidy Jr. Deputy Sheriff card.
My next wallet was one that my father gave to me when I found summer work,
I now had a couple of bucks to stash and my new driver’s license was a perk.
My bride gave me a wallet for my birthday when we were just newly wed,
She wrote a note that she put inside, “let’s fatten this up” is what it said.
So it became fattened with pictures of the kids that made up our family,
And to those photos I added the grandkid’s as grandpa became my identity.
This father’s day I got a wallet and my daughter made two cards to use for my ID,
The first one says that if this wallet is found please return it to room 237 for me.
I don’t know why she made the other one, why I need it I haven’t got a clue,
It explains to anyone that if I am found please take me back there too.
A vision a thought of apparel
Outreach choral or a group of gather to withness a proposal
Given in mean A good deed
Sound raven to a revolt champs of champions secured witness witness Hands welcome greatness fit of a tone
Numbers and letters how they create great character
Numbers and letter how they create great characters
Gather of wind wind apose written a tilt to a vision lords grief could unfold Such lettering greek or greeting of meet to learned but perhaps
Numbers and letters how they create great character
Numbers and letter how they create great characters
Taller a ladder hard the fall but of good written or of context is words Words or that if fitting
Out played or out of time to matter
Pick a berry to pick a shore how have matter out weight tide
Numbers and letters how they create great character
Numbers and letter how they create great characters
Life shape or maybe bend to shoe of tide look to fiction look to great how Did letters just of words create or make just a sign
Or a pavement to walk
If all was said and all hold true that Rome was not made over night what Hold true of you and I
Is numbers and letter how they create great characters.
A - After Thanksgiving, minds reset,
B - because about a month away,
C - Christmas will be our holiday.
D - Deliverance of peace it brings,
E - especially when we hold dear,
F - forever in our hearts so clear,
G - God's Son, our Savior was born.
H - Held in a manger filled with hay
I - inside a stable, mother near,
J - Jesus Christ was sent to us.
K - Kind shepherds came to find him there,
L - led by Star of Bethlehem, saw
M - Mary and Joseph with their child...
N - not just a babe, but Son of God.
O - On that blessed and holy night
P - people knew that Christ was born.
Q - Quietly from the clouds above
R - rows of angels appeared to them
S - singing glorious hymns of joy
T - to announce the Savior's birth.
U - Until now from long ago,
V - vigils are kept on Christmas Eve;
W - we gather, pray at Midnight Mass.
X - Xmas or Christmas, all the same;
Y - your "X" means "Chi" or Christ in Greek.
Z - Zealously, keep Christ in Christmas!
January 4, 2016
Contest: ''X'' Contest, New Or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
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It turns out, “Xmas” is not a non-religious version of “Christmas”. The “X” is actually indicating the Greek letter “Chi”, which is short for the Greek symbols meaning “Christ”. So “Xmas” and “Christmas” are equivalent in every way except their lettering. http://www.todayifoundout.com/index.php/2011/12/the-x-in-xmas-doesnt-take-the-christ-out-of-christmas/
Cody was questioning the lettering on the doctor's plaque on the wall..
He asked me to write letters in cursive which I did ...
He said that the plaque's lettering was not anything like cursive..
Then he wrote in cursive "Once upon a time"
I wrote: "there was"
He wrote: "a Granny"
I wrote: "Who had a Chihuahua named Princess"
He wrote: " They were so alike that they both even had the same spoiled look on their face.."
I wrote: " Princess wanted a new coat and a new harness so we went to PetSense to shop..Princess wanted a rhinestone studded harness and a sequined coat..Of course, she got what she wanted its no joke"..Ha!!!Ha!!!Ha!!
Cody came away empty handed..Ha!!!
Just for fun...
The crisp cool breeze
helped the sailboat to glide,
like a swan on a lake,
or the glory of a kite.
The shiny exterior
shone pearlescent white,
the gold, christened lettering,
gloriously reflecting the light.
Newly purchased, fridge stocked,
husband proudly at the wheel,
his wife dressed in stripes,
below, fussing about their meals.
This was their retirement,
the life they had planned,
and then without warning,
she felt dizzy; she could not stand.
As she gasped for air
and tried to call out his name,
her husband stood proudly,
planning his wife's life long dream.
As she stumbled and fell,
her head hit the table,
her husband oblivious
he was mapping their course,
deep in thought; for his beautiful wife; Mabel.
Her dream was to voyage
the open blue seas,
like two peas in a pod,
his Mabel, the queen bee.
As she lay motionless,
no sound could be heard,
but the lull of the waves
and sweet song of the birds.
As the husband took a step
down the galley below,
all he saw was his Mabel,
clutching her ring; eyes closed.
He gently and lovingly
picked her up with care,
and he took his wife, Mabel
and collapsed in their chair.
He rocked her and cried
my Mabel, my love,
you are my joy, my life,
as he released her to the sun.
He whispered a note
of her favourite tune,
as he took off his ring
and gently put it with hers.
Mabel, my love,
we will never be apart,
for the vows that we spoke,
are forever in our hearts.
Oh how well I do remember
Dear Miss McConnell’s typing class.
Fumbling fingers seeking home keys,
And so afraid I wouldn’t pass.
The quick brown fox jumps over the…..
I was assigned that exercise.
No lettering on the keypads,
My fingers had no help from eyes.
Dropping out was not an option,
In Miss McConnell’s typing class,
For she tolerated failure
About as well as she did sass.
So with real determination,
I had achieved to some degree
Enough success for Miss McConnell
To give a passing grade to me.
These were manual typewriters
A secretary’s tool for years.
There was no way to fix our errors
Than with whiteout and messy smears.
My expertise on the typewriter,
Won me a job and first pay check.
I was so happy Miss McConnell
Had saved me from the hunt and peck.
I was wary of electrics.
I didn’t like them very much.
They would stammer and keep typing
When they felt my heavy touch.
But of course one can't stop progress,
And my manual was replaced.
But not until today's great wonders
Could errors simply be erased.
Written April 16, 2013 for contest "The Typewriter"