Best Tellers Poems
All the Christmas stories the children are learning
As the Christmas candle is burning.
The stories are being told by grandparents and parents alike
Sitting by the candle light.
Oh so many stories that must be told
Stories that never gets old.
Stories of different places and unfamiliar faces
Like stories of Uncle Scrooge and how the people s kindness he abused
And how he changed his ways, and the story lives on till this day.
Also the stories of Rudolph and frosty the snowman and Santa
And what he went through- to deliver presents to me and you.
Then you have the island of misfit toys and how
Each one yearned to be hugged by a little girl or boy
And Santa knew just what to do and they’ve been repaired like new.
The elves have worked all year long making toys for every girl and boy
This is Santa’s special day where he gives the toys they made away.
Then we see the children who can’t stay awake no matter how hard they try
Because the Sandman’s dust is in their eyes.
His sleigh will be in flight and the stars will be his guiding light
And Rudolph will brighten the way, so from his course he will not stray.
So many stories that the adults will tell as the children sit all around
Just looking up, not making a sound.
We need these story tellers who know how to weave a web
Till they close their eyes and are put in bed.
©L.RAMS 120914
There's some stories old men tell
Just so they can hear themselves
Always hold a certain ring
With their own brand of embellishing
Around the stove in the old country store
If they've told it once, they've told it more
Look you straight in the eye
Before their pants are set on fire
They'll have you staring in belief
That what you see is reality
Look at you with the straightest face
So as not to give themselves away
Listening to all the old men
Toss out the line to reel it back in again
Like a Salty dog on a fishing boat
Keeping the tall tales they tell afloat
There's some stories old men tell
Fooling you as they fool themselves
Always hold a certain ring
With their own brand of embellishing
Thinking back to when my Grandfather owned an old country store where as a kid I'd sit on the uneven worn out wooden floor and listen to all the old men spin their tales. Not sure if he ever sold much but boy we sure had fun!
One fortune teller to another, “we’re going to have a hot summer”
The second one says “like the summer of 2092, that was a hummer?”
All wore metallic shorts
Special shields to cover our warts
Remember when girl robots showed their i-bums and had multitasking udders
I sat with a reluctant story teller
My legs crossed
Holding my breath
The fabric of her mind
was tightly folded
Tucked in at her edges
I reached for a thread
gave it a gentle tug
Hoping that it would come loose
My desire was to know her secrets
Her's were the tales I so desperately craved
She smiled a knowing smile
Looked deeply into my eyes
I gazed back resolutely
Searching for my prize
She whispered
"Listen close
Within my hands
I hold the ghosts
They scream with force to be released
You will not be protected by your Priest
I'm trying my best to hold them back
If they escape
They will attack"
My childish wonder turned to fear
Could real Ghosts have followed her here
As I wondered she began to laugh
Within my soul I felt a draft
I got my wish
Storied spirits made me cold
I could not handle the tale she told
I ran away through the forest
Spirits close behind
her thread had attached
quickly to my mind
The reluctant story teller
she knew me best
My little mind had failed her test
The ghostly spirits
wrapped silver threads around my soul
My eyes of blue turned black as coal
I am a reluctant story teller
The fabric of my mind tightly folded
Tucked in at the edges
You sit cross legged
Holding your breath
"Come a little closer
so that I might whisper in your ear".
Dedicated to my Friend Vicky a story teller Extrodinaire.
sitting across from me
you are a hanged man
sacrificing one of his eyes
for a chance at a sacred alphabet
at a chance to gamble to decipher
the blueprint of this life
When will you cheat death
and redefine your life
fortunetellers know
when will you meet with your destiny
and perhaps redevelope ytour fate
something fortunetellers know
sitting across from me
dangling on your lifeline
suicidal ghetto jesus
geniusus never had a turn
to turn the teacup
and dizzy up the girl
something the fortune tellers know
roll the dice see it another way
stigmatised and bleeding
the lines blur and decieve you
cant send the rescue
when the newscrew wont do anything
to get caught up in the truth of whose in the midst of the thirteen dead end drive
re work the living will
something the fortune tellers know
I put myself here in this position
i second guessed this ultimatum
i dumbfounded this situation
never wonder why i called it in and noticed when nothing happened
something fortunetellers know
redlights and blue lights
sirens and deadlight
no rescue coming
sickened by it all
left the tips
for the nearly murdered
called the news crew
the deal never called off
the tower fell
the deal with the devil
the day came
help never came
something about dangling on a string
fortune tellers know
nothing about knowing nothing
where to hide
how to pretend
how to lie
how to slide away
where to cry
where no one will see
what disguise for the alibi
the famous never deny the truth
its way out of hand
the fortuneteller knows
how many have reached out
and just need some grounded advice
who knows the reality of their life
cheating death
to escape desperate graves
getting away from yesterday
caught up in today
just to find ou tomorrow never came
too late for their destiny
and you dont have to accept this fate
dangling from this string
rework this alphabet
and bleed into me
reaching out for nothing
blood on our hands
society blackmailed
no big deal
fortunetellers nose bleed
The gypsy looked in the ball
It was black, nothing at all
'Strange' she said ' I see nothing'
Story of my life
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Tarot reader dealt the cards
Frowned and said 'It makes no sense'
'The good and bad are jumbled'
Story of my life
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Back to the gypsy I went
She frowned and said ' I see both
happiness and disaster'
Story of my life
~~~
for Linda Marie's "Crystal Ball " contest
Francine Roberts 03/09/2011
The old haunted mansion was open for guests now.
I talked my man into it. “It will be a wow!”
He was not convinced but agreed if he could bring a TV.
Of course, you can, I said. Whoop Dee Dee Dee Dee.
We were met by a butler with a long hard face.
He said, “Welcome to this annoyingly haunted place.”
His attitude had much to be desired.
But his participation was not truly required.
The ambiance was scary and strange.
There was a touch of hostility, a bit of derange.
I was getting ready to fold myself into my excited Halloween head.
Until I noted the insanity of our Dracula’s bed.
Oh, heck no, I immediately told my man.
I ran away as fast as a mother of six can fill a garbage can.
He stayed there, in that crushed velvet bed.
But never came home, the frightened storyteller said.
We are the story tellers,
Once of nature loving best.
River and mountain lake and forest
Teaming life of air or land.
We loved the wolf, big hearted proud
The stubborn boar reclusive bear.
Each with spirit man endowed them
To tell of knowing natures worth.
Shaman natures laws need master
Herb law, river, the running deer.
The seasons passing they knew them,
Living with all, wild untamed and free.
To share in stories at end of day.
But Abraham this way came stalking,
Telling stories of a jealous god.
Soul giver only to his chosen
Nature shorn, a play thing made
Hidden in mists behind the vale of tears.
Shaman cast anew to be witches,
For knowing natures secret ways.
Cernunnos, Pan, soon turned to devil,
By prelates of numen promising eternal life.
Nature made wicked will loose its value
When souls stand knocking at heavens door.
Fantastical tales are loved the best
When men will argue of dancing
Angels on the heads of pins,
Or flights of fancy to travel the stars.
Dear journalists,
investigative reporters,
and supporters
of strong and free
democracy,
When elective office candidates,
from dog-catcher
through UN CEO,
claim to champion freedom,
far more than all other candidates
competitively left non-elite behind,
Please ask,
Freedom in which direction?
Freedom to heal
our fading cooperative,
organically multicultural,
complex ecosystemic,
robust wealth climate,
local through global networks?
Or SuperElite freedom,
threatening liberties to destroy alien,
non-elite,
resilient polycultural health?
Or, more ambiguously,
some of confusing both?
And, if so,
Which is freedom
for loving polypathic cooperative health?
And which are competing liberties
to destroy WinWin future organic wealth?
More LeftBrain autonomous
deductive
reductive
monoculturing power
to do as they egocentrically please?
Or more RightBrain interdependent
inductive
inclusive
polyculturing freedom
to do as we ecocentrically co-invite
long-term health-wealth
cooperative
resonant
resilient eco-relationship?
It never hurts to ask
except when candidates
don't even understand our questions,
and often stopped listening
for WinWin social-political opportunities
so very long ago.
When their price for milk
involved sucking cooperatively provided EarthMother nutrients
and not competing to buy patriarchal assets
and xenophobic votes.
sub test
bested friscans, outed
not a vow about it
sheens and dreams
cameroon once held blooms in truth
never hid out in bosnia long enough
with opened hands
looking be kind at him
israelly waters eyes so himilayan
an trapped
too wrapped in his daughters heyday's
brazillia soo wild and repressed
from americaint pick up the bodies
melted frets in my brush
strokes forgetting
english frustraiting the curved bowties