Best Soup Poems
Twas the night before Christmas, when all thru the Soup bowl,
Not a poet was writing, not even the musing mole.
All their pens were hung by the chimney with bubble gum,
Hoping Winged Warrior would lose and let them win some.
The poetesses were nestled snuggled in their beds,
With visions of their makeup now surely spreads.
While Silent One was awake only took a silent nap,
Waking Bobby May, who finally took his crappy crap.
Noises from the lawn where SOS was making such a clatter,
He was speaking in Klingon about the Borg mad hatter.
I then slipped by the window and dropped my hash,
Tore open the cupboards to hide the stinky stash.
Brenda Chiri & Susan Ashley were making angels in the snow,
For they were locked out from the bowl and had no place to go.
Lin Lane & Jan Allison got up early to make some grub,
Then left extra early to go to the local pub.
Brandy Nicole and Anne-Lise were looking at the moon,
While the Bard and John Hamilton were playing a chilly tune.
In the morn, Heidi Sands & Connie Wong were ready to write,
Dreaming of winning a contest all through the night.
Charles Messina & Chris Green having an eggnog beer,
As St Victor Buhagiar feeds the lazy reindeer.
A knock at the door and all started to stare,
Why its newbies Midnight Aurora and Hello There.
Now Gershon! now, Andrea! Now, Besma and Regina!
On, Sandra! On, Kimmy! On Caren & down under Maria!
Next time bring deodorant for it smells like a horses stall,
I need some fresh air, fly my pretties fly away all.
...sorry, if I left anyone out...will get you next time!...
~~~Happy! Holidays! Everyone!~~~
Nov.20.2019
The Night Before 2
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Placed 2'nd & POTD~Plus 3'rd in the top 100 New Poems...Thank You
FOREVER ADELINE
Acknowledgement:
A big thank you Sam Scott from our Poetry Soup Community,
for your splendid narrative contribution.
Synopsis:
A story of unrequited love that began in childhood.
Despite the passage of time, his love remained hauntingly
painful even after she fell in love with another.
Aloft on wings of rhapsody, together spirits soar
Wild, untamed and sensuous, just like a lion's roar.
HOW LONG AGO IT SEEMS THE TWO OF YOU FIRST MET
AS TIME IS RENDERED MEANINGLESS
OR TIMELESS, BETTER YET
Though in that Timeless moment, along came winds of change
Love swiftly rearranged, but what it WAS, remained
Oh, Adeline, so fair and bright,
Eyes, like stars, shine with delight,
Oh fickle heart, now you await
your new love's sweet embrace
Blinded by the callous cad, you foolishly don't resist
In the quench of love's allure, Time does not exist
His loving lips will not reveal your new love's promiscuous charms
Intoxicated, unrepentantly, he sways to others' wanton arms.
Across the bronze Sienna shores and blissful sea breeze skies,
He ever trails your hungry heart through
his own saddened eyes.
Oh, Adeline in Twilight's Hush,
where shadows dance and play,
A tale of love and longing
When Night succumbs to Day
Oh, Adeline, will it be
mere friendship, he would fain?
To be just a deliverer of love notes,
a job he will disdain
Oh, Adeline ~ Sweet Adeline
At every glance - a secret shared,
his every word - love unsaid,
In every touch - a fire dared
HOW LONG AGO IT SEEMS ~ THE TWO OF YOU FIRST MET
AS TIME IS RENDERED MEANINGLESS
OR TIMELESS, BETTER YET
Chansons ne sont que chansons
Quand on écrit de l'amour
Comment d'écrire des chansons
De la femme qui est l'amour?
English translation from above:
Songs are just songs
When we write about love
How do you write songs
Of the woman who is Love?
OH, ADELINE ~ SWEET ADELINE
by Maria Williams ©
Background garden images taken on our recent visit to the amazing
Hunter Valley Gardens, Sydney, Australia
Musicians
Harp - Rolando Cristaldo
Violins: Fátima Benítez
Celeste Osorio
Cauliflower clouds drift past broccoli trees,
where bright carrot paths lead to vegetable seas.
Tall corn sentries stand straight in a row,
while wild little radishes have no where to go.
Straight stalks of celery spar with asparagus heads,
with an audience of onions and green lettuce beds.
Big juicy tomatoes go look for a thrill,
they stomp on the squash but fall flat on some dill.
Fresh cut potatoes walk boldly around,
quiet cucumbers make barely a sound.
All of them gather; sliced, cut, skinned and pearled,
as I survey my great edible world.
A first day on Soup is filled with much awe
The wonderful poems will make you smile
Easy is it to fall for all
Some enabled my mind, lingering a while
Just the few Soupers I mention here
Will blow you away with works of this year!
Janet Cervenka almost made us lust
When she penned a piece on Heavenly's bust
Marvelous is the diversity of Jan Allison
Such a dressed gem, and she's only blooming
Nandita then tells us that she's no Jan
Indeed her craft is paralleled by none
Man! the lyrics never cease to flow for Dave
So highly endowed with a skill many crave
You see, my first day on Soup I was greeted by SKAT
Who so humbly laid down the welcome mat
And if there exist a bond no man can put asunder
I have to say it's between SKAT and Linda
O! How can I forget 'Half of A Heart'
A Sara Kendrick special, such design and art!
Who better to mend our Broken Wings
Than the namesake with a quill in full swing
Yes Soupers always brighten my days
Place me in velds full of beautiful haze
And there I spot a Mystic Rose
Defined so uniquely like a Kim Nunez prose
From a consummation a lover was denied
To the hautiness of a lonely man's pride
Whatever we plan to glimpse or scoop
We tend to leave with more from Soup
It was now growing dark as the sun was going down
When a stranger rode into Soup Creek, a frontier town
No one could see his face, he was all dressed in black
An old boy was heard to say "I think he's come back".
He took his horse to the stable, then went to the boarding house
Before he went in looked across the street, to the town jailhouse
There was a familiar figure sat outside, in a rocking chair
Cradling a Winchester and the stranger, felt his cold stare.
He'd returned after all these years; he had something to prove
And just after a few days back in town, he would make his move
But Sheriff Koplin is no fool and he had planned up far ahead
And had formed a posse whilst the stranger slept in his bed.
Three fiesty girls from the saloon, Jan and Jenna, Tania too
And a Texas ranger called David who was just passing through
With gambler Milton who was deadly, with a colt forty five
And Tom the undertaker who looked more dead than alive.
It was the evening of the showdown; the stranger came out of the saloon
The sun was now setting but the tension had been building up since noon
From his holster he withdrew his pistol and then fired shots up into the air
The stranger was not one for living a peaceful life and he just didn't care.
Sheriff Koplin approached him and said "Hand over your gun"
And the stranger replied "Lighten up man, I'm just having fun"
The stranger was laughing now and looking down at his feet
The townsfolk were nervous and had disappeared off the street.
Then behind the stranger came a shout in a loud Texas drawl
It was Jenna disguised as an old woman, covered with a shawl
"You heard the sheriff " she shouted, "Put your gun on the ground"
The air was now thick with tension and you couldn't hear a sound.
Then from nowhere the rest of the posse appeared pistols in hand
They abhorred bullies and conflict and were prepared to make a stand
The stranger realised he couldn't win and threw his gun down
Walked to the livery stable to get his horse, and rode out of town.
The drama was now over but it could have gone either way
Sheriff Koplin and his posse restored peace, and had won the day
It was now days end in Soup Creek in that peaceful frontier town
All you could hear were chirping crickets as the sun was going down.
Written on 20th May 2022.
Poetry Soup, a forum international, a celebration
Of intellectual curiosity and creative exploration,
Embellishing soul’s heartfelt musings, amplifying
Themes, resonating elegantly in forms and diction;
Rhythmic and meaningful linguistic brushstrokes
Yearning to forge missives hearts’ passions invoke;
Symphonic expressions of simile, and metaphors,
Ornate elucidations literary exultations compose;
Ubiquitous presence in poetic assembly of world,
Precious garden for nurturing blossoming words.
August 16, 2022
Poem of the day on August 18, 2022
Placed 1st: Poetry Soup Beyond Its Name Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Beata Agustin
When it's soup season on Poetry Soup
Ingredients are in large selection
Creamy chicken soup is yummy
for both body and soul
it is simple to fix
Step one:
Joseph and John catch the chicken
it runs wild in the back garden
Step Two:
Robert and Richard pluck the feathers
and takes out the entrails
no one else would do this work so well
Step Three:
Wash your hands (I bet they smell)
Step Four:
Tania and Evelyn
fry the chicken in butter
together they sing a cheerful song
Step Five:
Ilene and Jan
is responsible for
leek, bell peppers
and carrot in the pot
their tools are humor
not razor sharp knifes
Step Six:
Hiya who is "chicken" in the group
adds boiling broth stock
Linda tells her to be cautious
kitchen window has been misted by steam
Step Seven:
Let the soup boil for ten to fifteen minutes
Sara says to her husband Bill who stirs the pot
Step Eight: Crème Fraîche
Paula and Heidi adds an extra dash
and taste a little with a wooden spoon
Step Nine:
Victor chops some fresh parsley
he feels refreshed and hungry today
Step ten: Pick your place around the table
Welcome to Soup - Enjoy
I tell you I like, that Wayland a bunch
He'd be the guy, to be there in a crunch
Not afraid of humor, he paves the way
With clerihew words, he loves to play
Let's talk of Eileen, the Queen of passion
Her verses of pleasure, will not be rationed
She causes men to rise, women to weep
Many a farmer, have stopped counting sheep
Then there is Shadow, who is a bright light
Her name suggests darkness, but that isn't right
With a pen and paper, she loves to play
Out of the Shadow, poems brighten our day
There is the woman Donna, she is filled with charm
For her animals, she'd give her left arm
Still here in the soup, she adds her own spice
She's a little bit hot and a whole lot of nice
When it comes to Eagles Montery's the last word
She's not in a flock she's a solitary bird
With her strong wings creating a breeze
Verses dance on the wind with the greatest of ease
I can't forget about Richard, now there's a man
He teases Eileen, just because he can
Yet within the humor, his clever exists
His poetic talents, impossible to miss.
My friend Vicky T, has brought me to tears
She possesses insight well beyond her years
A voice from the wilderness, please take heed
Wisdom resides in her poems that we read
When it comes to nature, our Nette is the girl
She makes mountains quiver and pretty leaves twirl
To angelic worlds she causes us to travel
Brooks are helpless she makes them all babble
Our Andrea she is well beyond great
Her words are profound they carry such weight
Regardless of form, many contests she wins
She's top of the heap, before she begins
Becca's a doll, with a sensitive pen
She writes of the now and also the then
Her words magical, a muse guides her pen
Capturing my mind again and again
This place amazing, a Mystical Rose
A unique handle my creative friend chose
Perfect for her that woman has style
A perfect seven at the top of the pile
My buddy Drake he has really mad skills
With words like honey the airways he fills
If you are lucky he'll let you co-host
To him I raise a glass to happily toast
Others must wait I'm running out of Rymes
I will write of them some other time
Until then I must wish you all goodbye
Have a sip of my soup, give it a try.
Inspired to try my first Clerihew by
Wayland Bunch. Hopefully I have got it right.
A BLESSED CHRISTMAS FOR ALL WITH POETRY SOUP
Dear Caren, Andrea, Cay Cay, Carolyn and Jan
Rico, Arturo, Paul and Chris, all of you are the same
Excellent poets, together with, Gordon, Duke and Line
Each of you write poetry so fine,
Beata, Nette, Janice, Heidi and Dear Heart,
All of you have supported me from the start,
To Winged Warrior, Gershon Wolf and Owen,
For all of you Christmas cheers I throw in,
Sylvia, Darlene, Brandy, Connie and M.L. Kiser
Such awesome poets each of you a whizzer!
Hey Robert, James, Mike, Laura, Jim and David,
Thank you for all comments that I have saved,
And also Michelle, Sand, Maureen and Poetic Flame,
Your poetry rocks when you post a poem and
Gain more fame,
Yes Sunlite, Silent One and Maxie too,
Hope that your new poems will be almost due!
The two Kim’s I thank you a stack,
As well as the whole Poetry Soup pack.
There’s still more Wayne, Sydney, Dean and Frank,
Also Michael, Charles, Mark, Word and Harry,
Don’t forget to say Happy Christmas with a port or sherry
There’s, P.W Awtry, Bobby, Sandra and my dear Sunshine Smile,
Each one of your comments I keep in hard copy in my poetry file,
Not forgetting Agustin, Honestly J.T and of course Warren Doll
A blessed and wonderful cheerful Christmas I wish to you all,
And for my dear friend Besma although far and not near,
I wish you a heartfelt Happy New Year!
To poetry Soup admin, may your Christmas be bright,
Please don’t give us another Black Sunday Poetry fright!
I may have accidentally omitted a few names, my apologies, my Christmas
Wishes are for all and their families with Poetry Soup.
Written: May 14, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh, how life has evolved drastically over years,
Similar to constant river flow and gears.
A world has spun, and time has obeyed its tune,
Leaving a scattered path of memories strewn.
People who are remembered and revered,
Their souls are always linked, never severed.
They carried on with grace, as a cool breeze,
Leaving an undying legacy that will never cease.
Poetry Soup is a global portal for poetic words,
It values several voices from different records.
A brilliantly woven world of cultures and styles,
Fostering inclusion of any person without trials.
Metaphors and similes flow in tandem,
Build broad issues, revel in poetic fandom.
A gilded world where reality is ubiquitous,
A lovely site where word growth is felicitous.
Poetry soup is a fusion of body and soul,
When something fails to bond, seek console.
Within this colloquium of writing and rhymes,
We sense kinship, a correlation at all times.
-Poetry Soup Kitchen-
Grab your aprons and spoon
Today we will not think of the stars and the moon,
Open your eyes, be grateful for all we have
Together we can paint the world
In any which way we desire
Let's give, live and celebrate the New Year
Poetry Soup Style
Happy New Year
2015
By:PD
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
To single out special people on soup is such a hard task
So many people have helped me, so it’s a really big ask
I discovered on soup there is an angel without wings
Her name is FJ Thomas and her praises I’ll gladly sing
A month after I joined soup an e-mail appeared
It said I was a ‘Premium Member’ it was so weird
I contacted soup said a mistake has been made
I’m a Premium Member … but I haven’t paid
They said the donor of my gift didn’t wish to be named
But I had no way to thank them, I felt so ashamed
I wrote a thank you poem so that they would know
Someone made it a favourite – but their name didn’t show
I later learned it was FJ Thomas, but by then she’d left the site
I wanted to make her proud of me, so I tried very hard to write
I’d not written a poem for many years,not since I was at school
Began writing when my hubby got cancer – a disease so cruel
Flo’s gift to a complete stranger meant the whole world to me
Writing became my lifeline I hope I’ve used her gift wisely
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Since joining soup I began to collaborate
You really should try it - it really is great
Teamed up with a guy called Darren Watson
His sense of humour was awesome oh boy we had some fun
I was a complete beginner and Darren encouraged me
Telling me how well I wrote and he loved my creativity
We began to collaborate as Jadazzle United
Our friendship blossomed, we were simply delighted
E mails would fly and my self confidence soared
With Darren around there was no time to be bored
My world was shattered when dad was diagnosed with cancer
Darren was there to comfort me, often with a witty answer
Sadly Darren became ill and our writing came to an end
I spent many many weeks trying to trace my lovely friend
Contact was established with his family and after over a year
I got an e mail from Darren, I was overjoyed to hear
Darren’s positivity for the future gave my heart a lift
Our friendship is so precious just like a priceless gift
We’ve both had ups and downs in our lives recently
We're writing together again and we’re as happy as can be
Contest:- Poetry Soup Heroes
Sponsor Catie Lindsey
My Poetry Soup heros
F J Thomas
Darren Watson
All heads are bowed in Soup Creek today
The town’s elder statesman has passed on his way
A gentleman true whose tongue wasn’t forked
To whom people listened whenever he talked
But when others spoke he would cheer or applaud
Whatever their nation, whomever their Lord
His words rarely barbed and only when apt
And usually only when friends were attacked
The name of this man, held so high in the rankings
None other than L (call me Milt) Milton Hankins
A man of belief with a deep ingrained faith
Who found time aplenty for each stray and waif
It’s quiet today in the town of Soup Creek
There’s a humungous chasm… so to speak
It’s like something’s missing for one and for all
It’s like someone’s stolen the church and town hall
Soup Creek, a town with its spirit ripped out
But Milton left town as a man in no doubt
That Soup Creek would thrive on his foundations laid
His legacy being the friends that he’d made
A sage and a mentor whose work here is done
A scribe with adventures, brand new, just begun
I dreamed in the night that a light lit his land
And his good lady wife said, “Milt, take my hand.”
Belly up to the table, our soup is well liked.
Just don’t drink the cool aid, I think it’s been spiked.
Come and get it while it’s hot, it’s the best I’ve been told.
Beware of the poets who like their soup cold.
Our table is large, there are plenty of seats.
You can sit for a spell and enjoy some good eats.
If it’s been a rough day and you are feeling subpar.
We have ice cold beer, on tap at the bar.
Everyone is welcome, come and give it a go.
You might become famous you just never know.
Our poets are diverse, each flavor unique.
Welcome to our club, come in and take a peek.