Best Referred Poems
Due to growing Nimbus clouds of oppression
an area of low pressure has been building
Rest assured, it won't lead to bouts of depression
but rumblings of thunder have now been heard,
foreshadowing the bombs of fury soon to come.
Be advised: the ripping winds will not be deterred.
To counteract and neutralise any negative vibes
this Poetry Souper has been on a strict vegetarian diet
of lentils, cabbage soup, curry and beans; re-fried
They have been consumed in copious quantities.
Take shelter from wind gusts. There may be a riot!
Steps are being taken because many have died
from the expulsions of a toxic build up of gas.
It's predicted to be tornado level turbulence
emanating from winds blown out of my a s s
Anatomically referred to as expelled flatulence.
Blowouts should be considered as lethal blasts,
and not to be taken lightly, ignored, or scorned.
This is a public service alert of severe wind forecast.
The approaching storm is of gigantic proportions.
Gas masks are advised. You have been warned!
Warning Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux
Submitted to Weather Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Angela Tune
2/28/20
THE LATE HUMOROUS MANDELA
The late former President Nelson Mandela,
Was known as an extremely humorous fella,
A respected freedom fighter and leader,
Referred to her Majesty as Elizabeth, amusing many a reader.
ENTERED FOR EDUCATE ME WITH HUMOR – LEADER CLERIHEW POETRY CONTEST
24/1/2019
Dear fellow soup readers and judges. Having realized that line 4 did not adhere to competition rules I have edited and changed it.
Luna, to the depths
of my fondest delight,
You are regally dressed
this beautiful night.
Your beaming full face,
frosted splendidly bright,
Causes Venus to become
pale in your sight.
Your reflection shining down
from your lofty height
Dances on the swaying sea
in bejeweled light.
Known as the `beaver'
full moon eclipse tonight,
In awe still am l as your
shadow takes flight.
I rejoice in the return
of your graceful might.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Note:
**Why is the full moon known as the "beaver" full moon?
The U.S. Naval Observatory's Geoff Chester offers the reasoning behind the name:
"[The] name comes from Native American skylore reminding trappers to set their
final traps for the season before the beaver ponds freeze up for the winter,"
Chester writes. He also notes this moon is sometimes also referred to as the "Frosty Moon."
Professor Abdul Kalam the luminous brilliant star
I pay homage to you from here in Dar
Great brill scientist in the field of Aerospace
A noble man with an intellectual mien and grace
Aeronautics and more were his speciality wow!
He's referred to as India's best known nucleur Scientist.
An inventive mind has passed away now
Lets celebrate and commemorate a great catalyst
He did India proud and did a lot for her
All Indians who know him will concur
Elected as her great President as well
Sad now to bid him adieus and farewell
Yay, the Indian soil has now a brilliant hero in her bosom indeed
I adoringly salute this great man of my race and my creed.
When a scientist dies it is a great loss for us all
May God raise more like him after his inevitable fall
But he can now repose in heaven's lap
On earth though he has left a mighty gap.
God I believe, loves those who utilise His gift of brains
Meditation releases us from earthly fetters and chains
Science and learning works your mind ; the brain needs exercise too
So I thank God for scientists , for scientific minds
That help to illuminate and enlighten this world, for me and you.
When I was little I thought the older a person was, the more brain cells you grew.
Thus, older people are smarter than little people.
That thought was long gone by the time I was four or five.
At eight I was so confused by big hand and little hand on the clock, I thought I would lose my mind.
Big hand to me was little hand, because the big hand they were talking about was the thin longer hand.
Thinner to me meant little, not big.
The thick hand they were calling little hand actually should have been referred to as short hand, but it
Was not. To the big people it was little hand. To me it was big hand because it was the fattest hand.
I did not know how to tell time for about a hundred years, because it did not make sense!
I could not get it, so of course, this was the unit I was elected to teach when I was a student teacher.
And for those of you who like math, do you understand a bit more why the word math strikes terror in my soul?
Big hand. Little hand. Good golly, Miss Molly.
If they had only used short hand, and long hand I would have immediately understood
Because I KNEW words.
Not math, not telling time, not numbers, but I did know words.
Teaching me to tell time would have been insanely simple, if the right words could have been used!
Why did they not understand what I was trying to figure out?
Because they did not LISTEN to me.
I was a child, after all.
A child who knows her words.
Big hand for long hand?
Long hand for big hand?
Everyone was too busy shaking their head and telling me ‘no’ to realize what I was saying.
Listen people, listen, because your children are smarter than you know, and they are
Trying to talk.
July 22, 2011
A sea of flowers and candles grew outside the Cathedral
- in total 15 tons
Solidarity, an unbreakable bond of care, democracy
Terrorist attack, 77 people died
grotesque images on the retina
Sound of gunshots and desperate screams
The killers ideology
referred to himself as "A Templar knight"
Artists Tobbe Malm and Tone Karlsrud
invite blacksmiths from all over the world
to forge roses in iron as a memorial
People acted spontaneously
Grief was wrought in iron
"The iron roses" ... the abyss sea
will always remind us of all those we lost
"Hidden in heaven, but never forgotten"
I will miss your
presence, in
this poetic
community!
Your pen was
one of a kind.
Everything you
wrote had your
poetic flare
in it, through
and through.
You had a
magnetic
personality.
It shined on
Soupville Lane
bold and bright!
You had a great
sense of humor
as well, I referred
to you as one of
the soup
comedians.
You made fellow
soupers feel like
family.
I will truly miss you,
RIP, go get your
new wings and
Fly on my brother
fly on!
* Dedication To The WW ( Winged Warrior)
Alexis Y.
11/09/2020
Are you ready to be a poet or a bard?
A romantic or a bad ass?
A poetaster or a poet laureate?
A good girl or a bad guy?
Would you rather poeticize or take poetic license?
Would you like to be referred to as a romantic or a rogue?
To compose in verse or keep writing until you make your missive worse?
I choose all.
I am a writer.
This is what
We do….
I’m a little teapot*
Of that there is no doubt
I need my first fix in the morning
Or I will scream and shout!
The kettle whistles to let me know
It’s time to make my tea
The tea bag is waiting in my cup
There is always plenty of tea for me
Every morning I drink Tetley’s -
I don’t leave the bag too long to stew!
In the afternoon I will drink green tea
It is such a refreshing brew
Tetley tea I make with a little milk
I drink around eight cups a day
It’s my favourite drink in the world
I'd rather drink tea than café au lait!
Wake up with a coffee or tea contest
Sponsored by Kim Rodrigues
*First line is from a nursery rhyme ‘I’m a little teapot’ The song was originally written by George Harold Sanders and Clarence Z. Kelley and published in 1939.
My mum is also a big tea drinker and I’ve always referred to myself as a ‘teapot’
12~01~16
“Close the book, ring the bell, light the candle.”
The witch’s words resounded in my ears.
My problems now were more than I could handle
and so I hoped she’d vanquish all my fears.
She stared at me across the darkened room
and then commanded me that I must stay
until my wish was granted. Then a broom
she grabbed, and out the door she flew away!
The magic lay in me, the hag had said.
I only had to wish with all my might.
But with my kind of luck, I might be dead
before I’d get what I had wished that night.
I sit here still; she’s left me with a curse!
No health care yet, and now my back is worse!
(sorry to belabor this, but now you see what preoccupies
my mind these days!! Linda's contests always seem
to bring out this topic for me lately. The gypsy referred to
in my title was in my last poem I did for Linda!)
By Andrea Dietrich for Linda-Marie's
"BELL, BOOK AND CANDLE" Poetry Contest
Viciously, infernally incredibly hot, is its dominance
Excitedly referred to as ‘Women come from Venus”,
Naturally, Roman Goddess of beauty and love, ingenious,
Unsure of falling in love with Venus, no water I fear,
Seduced by folklore, don’t become a foolish Pioneer!
Contest Info : "planet"
Sponsor: Matt Caliri
Dated 28th May 2021
The Crescent City
Ancestral roots are calling me
to Crescent City near the sea.
A city with its past displayed
where long ago the pirates played.
The glowing lights of Vieux Carré;
Café du Monde’s belov’d beignets,
and Creole foods prepared with flare;
it’s been so long since I’ve been there.
The Cajuns live life with pizazz
and everywhere sweet sounds of jazz.
These dreams are where I long to be,
this Crescent City near the sea.
December 19, 2022
Vieux Carré (pronounced VOO kah-RAY) translates to “old square “ in English. The French Quarter, the oldest neighborhood in New Orleans, is referred to as the “Vieux Carré.”
Beignet (pronounced bin-YEAH) is a French pastry.
We are strong and may be brave, We
keep our Emotions locked in a Cave.
As we were young growing to a
mature age some of our Fathers
stayed to help raise, While other
Wannabe fathers left far far away.
We may be lost flying through thick
haze and pouring Rain, Some of us
just search for a nurturing embrace.
We are referred to as Dogs and that
we are all the same, We go through
Hell and beyond to prove that we are
not that mislead stray.
We endure countless Battles as we
travel through rough terrains, At
times our tempers get the best of us
and fuel our Hearts with Rage.
The song of a Woman's Voice seems
to calm our inner raging Beast, At
times we are rejected when we're on
a bended knee.
It takes a lot for a Man to cry and
when we cry we look towards the
sky, We look for answer asking for a
sign.
When a Man cries we sometimes
choose to hide, Cause we can no
longer deal with the Pain inside. ©™
By : Shawn Munoz
“Tubman”
What colours a heart
courage?
What colours a mind
belief?
What colours a soul
unity?
Underground
we carry torches
from station
to station
We are the Light
We Lead
No colour
No religion
No epic
delusion
Where is the race?
The race to confusion?
We are One
You and me
We are One
We all bleed
Underground
we carry torches
from station
to station
Poets grieving
Vigilantes seething
Electric conductors
of Love
punching tickets
elevate the fire
Light rises
out of the numb
sacrifice the smallest
midst mountains of Moriah
signals waking
signals waving
Freedom
Glowing
Colours are All
Colours
Ultraviolet
magnetic to spectrum
silent tapping, unheard
sometimes seen
no snake doctor lectern
truth burns
souls bound to each other
all grieving
in one way or another
we all learn
Hearts beating
Lungs breathing
signals waking
signals waving
platforms all crowing,
now eyes open
listening,
debating
all signals waking
new story weaving
Souls searching
Souls kneeding
Light now is calling
Light now is leading
Tubman is not
dreaming
(LadyLabyrinth/ 2020)
“Any cause needs speakers and organizers.
Any mass movement requires
women and men of great ideas.”
Tubman, Harriet.
Harriet Tubman is sometimes referred to as the Moses of her people because of the way she led them out of slavery. The Underground Railroad operated at night. Slaves were moved from "station" to "station" by abolitionists.
Hi dear friends, I’m back after a bad shingles attack and straight after that bronchitis verging on pneumonia.
Little Robin red breast bobbing up and down,
Would take away with glee, anybody’s frown
And friendly buzzing Mr Bumble bee delights,
Us one and all, he does not sting, it’s not his thing.
He visits flowers , red, yellow purple , pink and blue,
Which attract him, loves their pollen and alluring hue.
One day bumble bee and little robin decided to be human,
So prepared for tea and pancakes, without the gluten,
They saw Katy the caterpillar crawling on the lawn,
And invited her to join them, the following morn at dawn,
They all met for this fun occasion by the nearby river,
But an uninvited visitor arrived with shiny wings, such a diva.
A Hadeda elegant and loud of call thought she was an opera
Singer, had one thing on her mind, which was Katy Caterpillar,
She slowly walked on her stalk like legs towards this prickly
Little insect, wanting to swallow Katy who was so wiggly,
Down her gullet, but Robin red breast said no no, no,
And Bumble bee agreed and said, I think you ‘d better go
So with his wide spread wings the Hadeda flew away,
Leaving Bumble bee and little Robin to enjoy their day,
How wonderful was their idea for pancakes and tea.
Another visitor arrives, so famous, known to you and me,
Can you guess who.
He wears a top hat, mutters crazy sayings,
And carry’s a full tea pot , ‘do you want a cup of tea,
Oh dear, oh dear, my or me, he or she or maybe you.
He takes his watch out of his waist coat pocket and says,
‘I’m late, I’m late for a a very important date, no time to
Say hello goodbye I’m late I’m late I’m late’
‘It’s time for me to go,
Au revoir from your dizzy beau.’
It was the Mad Hatter, of course,
An Alice in Wonderland source.
What happened to Katy caterpillar, well fearing
For her life, Katy crawled under a nearby bush,
Did not intend to be a snack, or mealtime mush.
NB – THE WORDS UTTERED BY THE MAD HATTER – are both from the book Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll and some of my own.
HADEDA IBIS - referred to in South Africa as only Hadeda.