Best Resort Poems
Spinning the Resort
By Elton Camp
For guests the resort does advertise
So it will be desirable in their eyes
Since the building is old and run down:
“Located in the historical part of town”
The heat and air don’t work very well:
“About the local climate you will tell”
Grounds are shabby and grass knee-high:
“From your room, untamed wilderness spy”
Windows are loose and some are cracked:
“For our hotel, ventilation has never lacked”
All the hotel furniture is faded and worn:
“Antique items from before you were born”
Plumbing is defective with leaks and all:
“As you sleep, you’ll hear the water fall”
We have no phones, television or Internet:
“The most peaceful vacation you can get”
Nowhere will guests an elevator ever see:
“Exercise is always provided to you free”
With so few guests, the daily rate is large:
“You will be astonished at what we charge”
Since the dining room grub isn’t fit to eat:
“Our cuisine, weight loss will complete”
Because nobody returns for a second stay:
“Bustling crowds will never cause dismay”
The Daddy Long Legs crawled into my tea.
Looked up and smiled, coyly at me.
Invited his wife and his offspring, all three.
They were having the best time, I truly could see.
So I decided to make them a big bowl of tea.
I put in sugar and lemons, I cut them delicately.
I had Daddy Long Legs invite relatives to this magnificent tea.
They swam and they floated, with their faces to me.
They turned this big bowl into a Long Leg’s Resort.
They named me the Queen, and we held Daddy Long Legs Court.
Pretty soon I had to move them to a big pool in my back yard.
Being the ruler of Long Leg’s is surprisingly hard!
Can’t fly, no wings
no voice, can’t sing
Can’t act, no passion
wardrobe's out of fashion
For music, no ear
quit school, no career
Always fall, can’t play ball
so ~ I chronicle it all
Once there was an intellect called smoke, the philosopher
Architect of a new republic of peace by dare
Shunting viruses by tolerance
Eliminating interferences by endurance
Bloody this domain is for gladiators
There is this space called my Poem Place,
Each morning I rush to settle in.
My standard routine, warmed by caffeine
gets in gear once I pick up my pen.
Picking up my pen means I begin
with my computer and my notebook.
Microsoft Word and Rhyme Zone ready,
I open Farlex Free and One Look.
Now all I need are "thoughts" to proceed.
I click the icon, Poetry Soup,
Forms are the tool that makes my pen drool
And blogs spark my mind to regroup.
Reading is spice, but what's really nice
is when ideas flow through my brain.
If I come up short, my next resort,
Members' contests, my mental food chain.
Myriad prompts serve my pen with verve.
Once I bookmark the ones that appeal,
my turn at bat; I choose God's format
to see what rhyme and Reason reveal.
written 12-28-2014 with revisions 1/18/17
Sponsor Beata Agustin
Contest Name POEM ON POETRY MUSE
Perched on the shore of Lake Victoria
Is Speke....
Of its beauty I will speak
In any place I shall be
Granite stones chopped into bricks
Layered one upon another....glued by cement
"Monomutapalian architecture perfected" on the shore of Lake Victoria...
Of its hospitality I will tell
To all l shall meet
"Welcome" to me they said..."feel free"
This is your room...they guided
Some faults I saw
That prompted me to enquire...
"Do not worry"...they reassured..."this is Speke"
Warmly they pronounced..."You are our honorable guest"...
"We upgrade you to an Executive Suite"
"Do I have to add another cent?"...I wondered
"Nay" they said to my disbelief
"Come this way...this is where you will stay...
'til the closure of the errand that flew you here!"
Professionals Resort to Advertising
By Elton Camp
There was a day when it wasn’t thought wise
That any professional person should advertise
Solicitations were never seen
Lest the professional it demean
So unseemly it then did appear
“Come get your operation here.”
“Let me handle your trial for you.
For no other lawyer as well will do.”
“Come to me to pull your tooth.
I am so skilled, it is the truth.”
But those ideas are no longer so,
They having changed years ago
On billboards, doctors now appear
Lawyers, to boast, no longer fear
A doctor’s advertisement may say
“If I kill you, you don’t have to pay”
“I’ll win your case, sure as can be
If not, then my law service is free.”
I wouldn’t be shocked on any day to see
A professor’s, “Get your credits with me.”
We treaded beneath the harvest moon
cursing the viper beneath the hideous act
that had left a man gibbering "Ave Maria",
too frightened to predecease his age mates
he lay lifeless on his death bed
a cosy platform made of fine bamboo
and his eyes spinned as if in a hex
drum beats acclaimed our arrival
at the abode of Sango the wizard of wizards
of course we had with us a black heifer,
snout enough to entice the gods
we entered the rounded hut willy-nilly
and quietly we fell on a Columbus skin
the accustomed comfort for the doctor's guests
the famed hermit displayed his aptitude
arrayed in mysterious amulets he looked creepy
and sure indeed our ticks palpitated
dancing in circles marked the preliminaries
before moving on to palpate,
his already awe-stricken patient
slowly the patient was made to gulp
a mysterious potion from Sango's secret recipe
which we all thought tasted like tonic water
that was one of our visit to a warlock
and sure enough it proved fruitful
for the patient -that- was lives to tell
of how magic had beat science
Hope can be certain
Hope is not denied
in the main-
If,all else is tried
Quatrain Form derived from George Herbert's poem Discipline 5/5/3/5
SWEET RESORT
I have been on the larch
Watching you in the yacht
seeing you search
For a suitable perch
that's a sweet resort
I was never your match
your level, high notch
difficult for me to reach
your deal,, hatch
A sweet resort indeed
My eyes on the pier
to watch your new sire
my name dragged in mire
my reputation painted black
to me a run of rotten luck
But then its a sweet resort
Have to stand the pain
happiness I will feign
with bane and no gain
to you,, a sweet resort
crystal radiance
shimmering image filled in
eye lakes' love resort
Join us at Riverside Casino there's a job for everyone.
Where the atmosphere is comfortable and in between work there's fun.
Nothing here gets redundant because you can transfer anytime.
You can always find something to make you feel happy and sublime.
If you are determined with hard working propensities.
Come on over and show us your many abilities.
Other areas include maintenance, management, and hotel work too.
We'll find a job that's right for you and pay you what you're due.
If any of the above sounds like it's what you're looking for.
Go down to Human Resources and walk right through their door.
You have nothing to lose and everything to gain.
Opportunities are now knocking do not let them wane.
Footnote: I actually did work for the Riverside a long time ago. My Supervisor "Jim" challenged me to write a poem with the word "propensities" in it. So I proceeded to look up that word and did this poem. It is not the first poem I ever written but it is the first poem to appear anywhere in print. In the Casino's Magazine/Newsletter - ITSA-BOUT-US May 2006 - back page lower corner.
Imagine
a barren desert:
dry,
deprived of life,
where one would be sent
only in their worst nightmare.
This is a place
where
one's body and soul
would surely die
This is a place
where
drought
has deprived you of tears
- you no longer can cry,
the last hope for thee
is to find some water
- there is none,
No matter how hard you try,
there is no hope for thee
- you are losing your life.
What is left for you
is turning into stone:
your spirit
- dehydrated,
your flesh
- dried to the bone.
There is no help for thee,
you are here alone
willing to return home,
but all hope is gone.
There is nothing left,
but one strength -
thy last resort,
yet it demands
thy effort,
the very last feeling
not letting your life
give in,
it is your will of living,
to live
for the people whom you love.
I am…
The last resort for all your problems
Come to me even when all doors have closed
I shall be waiting to give you succour
Because you’ll be needing it the most
I am the force that lifts you
Give you confidence that you need
To mingle again after a heart-break
Unmindful of mine, your ego I shall feed
You only come to me when your heart’s broken
Never of your own free will, to be with me
I do my best to mend your broken heart
As I’ve learned to be patient to a great degree
Your affection towards me is for a reason
Love, I know is not what brings you here
You pray hard I’m not aware of your designs
But I’ve known all along that which you fear
You never did know why I pursued you
Even when I know you are still playing with me
It’s because in love you’ve learned to take
And in love, I’ve learned to give you my soul with glee
All me life I’ve been a bushman who lived mostly in a city
with dodging cars and sleazy bars and no-one showing pity.
A city is a concrete jungle, divvied by ribbons of tar,
and everyone must watch their back or bear a mental scar.
That’s why I call meself a bushman ‘cause I feel much healthier
tramping through the undergrowth where I feel more wealthier
than breathing in the choking smog and numbing to the constant noise,
in bids to keep up with the Jones’ or to flee a mugger’s poise.
And I’m not the only one who feels quite fearful in the streets
where the lighting becomes dim and it is silhouettes one meets,
with pepper spray and whistles ready, just in case something begun,
and of course there is for last resorts … my beretta jetfire gun.
So when I became a traveller to all corners of the earth,
I have my bodyguards in waiting for the hope that they’ll be worth
when there’s a lack of local knowledge of animal or man,
but I can put up quite a fight and beat the hunter with a plan.
And my plan came into play when on a US hiking trip
through Yellowstone in wilderness with my baretta on my hip;
I was hiking with a woman who I’d met when in Brazil,
and we were forced to flee, Amazonians, amid their threats to kill.
We flew to Africa together to hike along the Serengeti,
where predators just out of reach would leave us mildly sweaty,
but we always felt we’re in control out of our comfort zone
just like we were together when hiking there in Yellowstone.
And its thanks to my baretta; that pistol with a single shot
that I’m alive to write this poem with execution of my plot.
We were hiking up along a ridge when I saw something brown
that was moving slow behind a shrub before it went to town.
A growling grizzly bear appeared and prepared to run us down,
and as we fled the fact was there; the bear was gaining ground,
so I drew out my baretta; took careful aim and saved the day.
I shot the woman just behind her knee, and made my getaway.