Best Storybook Poems
~ A Storybook Princess ~
She dreams of princes, princesses and balls
A little girl on tippy-toes, not a meter tall
O, the frilly lace gowns she fashions
Stitched with threads of heartfelt passion
A little girl in dreamland enthralled
Daylight's full of pain, tests and probes
From her lower spine to her temporal lobe
Hair shorn, she bears it all with infinite patience
As they wheel her from station to station
For at night she's a storybook princess
No matter that in daylight she winces
Asleep, her bed's her castle, wedding-bell topped
Where dreams last forever, never stop
Entered in 'All Yours (Feb. '21) Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Oh, give me a nook and a storybook
there at my mother’s knee.
Or tucked in bed, a pillow at my head
as father reads to me.
To hear nursery rhymes - wonderful times
when Mother used my name
inside a rhyme. Oh, for childhood sublime!
Old age is not the same!
Of Cinderella and a cute fella
I used to listen to.
Romantic the tale where all ended well,
and love they said was true.
But I’d graduate from my childlike state.
Alone I soon would read
less beautiful things, in which a prince brings
no rose; instead, a weed.
Oh, to return to before I could learn
of life’s realities!
Where endings were good I’d go if I could
reliving memories.
In that nook I’d be, my mother with me
where books I’d learned to love.
That would be enough because it’s the stuff
fairy tales are made of!
While resting in my nook, breaths grip
As lampshade marks edges of leaves;
That I wander into the scene
On pages afloat, a tale weaves .
Listening to my restless sighs,
The hero wins a maiden fair
Under the rim of jeweled clouds…
Yet one dark villain lurks, beware!
Though moonlight hides its varnished face
My eyes pursue this raging quest;
And though caught in flamed paradise
Late hour ushers a sleep’s request .
Tucking the book, whispers I hear
Unto rivers of my vivid dream,
Awaiting for morn to touch its ray
To finish lines from a tale, supreme.
Brian's Select 2
What I wouldn't give most days
to run from the world and just hide
in a corner nook, with a storybook.
I'd immerse myself and time I'd bide
A foreign land, a new romance.
Swept away by the written page.
Where love is forever, happiness reigns
and every heroine's passions rage.
Life can be repetitive, numb,
but immersed in stories everything's new.
The best escapism is by far
found in a good book, this is true.
When day is done and time my own
I'll curl up in that corner nook
and let myself be taken away
inside the pages of a storybook.
22/04/2016
A nook in the corner, off to the right..
A haven, housing a hundred homes.
To there, where wakened dreams do hide,
My wandering mind so often roams.
We read to know we’re not alone.
I’m grateful that I've found this nook -
A home, where wakened dreams do hide.
There is no friend as true as a book.
A book falls open and I fall in,
Deaf to the planet’s mundane din.
Disturb me not, you kith and kin -
I'm off to my homeland, off on a spin.
They’re rungs on a ladder. Every page
a foothold, on to which we scale
to reach the highest point, from where
we see the beauty of the tale.
From there, the top of my noiseless world,
I’m safe and sound - no guns or knives
Can face the power of stabbing words..
A reader lives a thousand lives.
What would I give for a book and a nook
I'd forfeit some cash from my pocketbook
Surrender my coat to a hanging wall hook
Then give it a look , as long as it took
I'd roll back the stone, crawl into a cave
Find Ol' Tom Sawyer, take some close shaves
Look for Boy Wonder, help free some slaves
Hunt for lost gold, discover old graves
Go room to room, look high and low
Ride on a broom, escape through a hole
Go with the wind, fly over rainbows
Ride chariots of fire where ever they go
Search lost horizons with great expectations
Go hunting for bison in Indian Nations
Swim with Poseidon and gather crustaceans
The suspense would heighten my imagination
A book and a nook, a perfect day
Rain or shine, take me away
To read every line on every page
Spend all my time, that's what I'd pay
an original poem by Daniel Turner
A break at last, sweet solitude
to now find comfort in my nook
that's bright and cozy, quiet too;
just me and a great storybook.
A cozy corner left alone
in my soft chair and window view
of rolling hills and swaying trees;
a book in hand to start anew.
A sweet love story with a plot
to take me to the land of youth;
entwined in webs of their young lives,
absorbed with fiction or the truth.
Perhaps a covert thriller type
too difficult to figure out,
will bring suspense until the end,
and hold me bound without a doubt.
Or maybe one's biography
to teach, inspire me, and learn
how someone famous led a life
for all to read about, discern.
A break at last, sweet solitude-
relaxing with great thoughts to read;
just me and a great storybook-
a special gift of life indeed.
April 18, 2016
~4th Place~
Contest: The Beauty of Solitude
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Judged: 05/04/2018
~2nd Place~
Contest: What I Would Give For a Nook and a Storybook
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Judged: 05/02/2016
A Nook And A Story Book Contest
Sponsor: Eve Roper
There was a day last week that I felt alone and sad,
I carried days of grief and would pray for sweet dreams,
I held onto a glimmer of hope when I had an idea,
to get lost in my favorite book outside on the porch swing.
Sensuality of a solitary soul with desires of social freedom,
pretty dear Edna lost inside a condemning creole heritage,
although she loved the Gulf of Mexico and New Orleans,
she had love affairs with charming men during her marriage.
Her appetite for passion wasn’t accepted in the nineteenth century,
she craved lustful intimacy when it was strictly forbidden,
Edna wanders around and finds herself within sexual promiscuity,
in a small town news travels fast, even if she wanted it hidden.
Once wedded to the rich Leonce who traveled far too often,
Edna yearned for the embrace of other appealing suitors,
fantasizing beyond all common sense of comprehension,
alas she was constantly damned by hypocritical persecutors.
Satisfactions and warm memories sooth her darkest nights,
she thinks of her affair with Robert as she closes her eyes,
so deeply did he love her, although she only craved his physique,
she wore erotic moments on her back for a disguise.
Because of her rejection of the roles as a wife and mother,
she was an outcast, a fading woman lost in fear and sorrow,
no more love and lust to quench her deep thirst,
she awakens…not wanting to face another tomorrow.
Drowning herself in the deep water of the Gulf of Mexico,
released her from her miserable anguish she called home,
no longer could another touch her the way she needed,
she ended up living her last moments in despair while alone.
This poem is about the book "The Awakening" by Kate Chopin
The original name was "Solitary Soul"
Date Written: April 28, 2016
In the attic of my childhood home was a nook,
And there was a lovely window where sun poured in;
I just loved to hideout there all the afternoon,
There was a sweet thrill for the story to begin.
I started off reading books like Cinderella,
And I loved the story of Beauty and the Beast;
Treasure Island, Robinson Caruso, Robin Hood,
Lost in the story- but never a page I creased.
My mother and grandma knew where to find me,
Sometimes fast asleep in my nook holding a story;
Soon I was reading, Of Mice and Men, The Hobbit,
Gone With the Wind, now that was like purgatory.
"Frankly my dear, I don't give a dam!" my gosh,
I adored Rett Butler, oh he made me dreamy;
Romance was now my thing, I could not wait for the nook,
I got books second hand and some were steamy.
Then I changed, I wanted to read about real things,
I read Biographies of people in my sunny nook;
Nature and poetry books to me were so fascinating,
But I threw in a mystery or horror book.
Well that nook is gone, in fact even the house,
But in my nest, I have a special place to read and be;
Beside a sunny window cozy with many pillows,
I love when I can be alone there with just me.
_____________________________________
April 17, 2016
Poetry/Quatrain/A Book, A Storybook
Copyright Protected, ID 16-778-875-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, What I Wouldn't Give For A Nook and a Storybook,
sponsor, Eve Roper
Second Place
A Nook and a Storybook
What would I give for a nook and a book
to cuddle and snuggle and longingly look
the pages unfolding as I listened to
the comforting song of a fast flowing brook.
Oh, if it had pictures, a faraway place,
mysterious villains, a dark alley chase
I’d pick up the phone and I’d call in sick
disappear in the mist, leave not a trace.
What would I do to be captured by words
impressed into service by pirates with swords,
adrift without wind, current silently slow
half crazed crew pacing the sun-baked dried boards.
Perhaps of an evening a stroll on the beach
salt, surf, and moonlight on ebony skin
passion full sated on cooling hard sand
last dream of the shanghaied seagoing men.
What would I give for a storybook nook
I’d offer it all the time that it took
to take me away to wherever it would
leave me enraptured by a murmuring brook.
4/15/2016
submitted to – What I Would Give For A Nook And A Storybook – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Eve Roper
Every morning I rise grateful to be alive
and in my movements from sleep to waking
each step is blessed by the newest day God might provide,
and I embrace another chance, never oblivious of it's making.
With coffee in hand, I wander through the garden
grateful of each presented wonder
and I slip into the crevices unhardened
to a comfy rocking chair hidden beneath the holly it's under.
There safely wrapped in nature and its innocence
I take in the sun and breathe in fresh clean air
offering my silent prayer and open penitence
then flip the pages of the bible for guidance found there.
This little hollow is my refuge, my very own private nook
of where I find hope and peace and solitude
grateful for life and words of this inspired revered book
that guides my life, my actions and my very attitude.
This is the best of all places I can be
within my secluded safe protected nook
wherein I spend my mornings joyous and free
and for nothing more gifted do I look.
/
4/30/2016
A Nook and a Storybook
His leg was broke and his pride hurt
As he began to read.
That knucklehead he called his hoss
Had stumbled at full speed.
"Read a good book", the doc had said,
"The healin' takes awhile.
Just make a nest in that bunkhouse,
Pretend you're still a child."
He read of a man like himself -
A cowboy with a call.
The Virginian was the title,
That didn't say it all.
The hero shaped the West back when
The boundaries weren't so clear.
A man, a hoss, and a forty five,
An' danger always near.
Loves were found and painfully lost
While tempers roared aloud.
He found himself on every page,
An' he was cowboy proud.
He lived his life just punchin' cows,
An' wrote out his own tales.
He hoped that they'd be read someday -
After the cowboy pales.
April 28, 2016
Faerie Tales
Fantastical
Starts once upon a time…
Princesses, dark villains
Grimm’s Brothers, and Hans Christian Andersen
Gingerbread house and a witch
Such magical creatures
The end closing
Faerie tales
She holds the book
like it’s a living thing~
a small, breathing lantern of thought
opening in her hands.
Letters rise from the page,
blue-bright and weightless,
as though the story has decided
it can no longer be contained.
They drift upward,
carrying pieces of her~
curiosity, memory,
the quiet ache of what she’s lived
and what she longs to understand.
In their ascent
she feels something shift:
the way destiny sometimes arrives
not as a path
but as a sentence
finally breaking free.
And for a moment
she is both reader and written,
the book and the becoming~
watching her own story
lift into the air
to show her what it means.
I can quickly disappear into other realms
when my hands are holding a storybook.
I escape the harsh realities of this world
in the solitude of my quiet reading nook.
I don the disguises of characters I love.
With so many options I never get bored.
I'm Florence Nightingale on the battlefield,
or Joan of Arc gallantly wielding her sword.
I'm feisty and determined like Scarlet O'Hara;
Jason, leading his Argonauts to find the Fleece.
I might even write a grand story of my own
in which every nation finally lives in peace.
There's no limit to what I shall read or write
and no bounds to my imagination or rhyme.
I get lost in the sweet world of make-believe;
the future or long ago in ancient days of time.
I'm an explorer in a pyramid on a sand dune,
the first person to set foot on planet Neptune.
I've discovered a way to live upon the Moon
and means to keep cool in the month of June.
Come and read with me. I've books I can share
that will turn you into anyone you choose to be.
Give yourself one of the greatest gifts there is.
Reading pages of a storybook will set you free.
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April 16th, 2016
Eve's Nook and a Story Book Contest