Best Tour Poems
A diesel generator
drowns out the rusted Marshall stack
Six years we owned
the Billboard charts;
the DJ who crowned us
every summer
for five straight years—
this week, a county fair;
tonight, the Music Pier.
The drummer tapes two split fingers
closes his hand once
hard—
then rests the sticks
by Mick’s ashes
in a Folgers Black Silk can behind the kit
Tommy’s gold sequins
snag on his dialysis catheter
as he sits
Johnnie the P-bassist drags a stool onstage
to ease his neuropathy
We are crushed elderberries
hawking CDs from a card table,
bleeding a dark, tart stain
onto ninety aluminum chairs
No teenagers weep;
a man wipes funnel-cake grease
from his chin
As I tune the cherry-red '57 Stratocaster
down a minor third,
hoarse from pushing air
through a throat scraped thick
with scar tissue
We were a dense, golden field
beneath the studio lights
on Midnight Special
Now plucked dandelion crowns
scatter over Ferris wheel blacktop,
leaving white ghost-tufts
snagged in the Music Pier’s
boardwalk planks
Where just three bald stems
plug into the seaside damp—
and the seeds drift past the shoreline,
washed up,
vanishing into the deep
we used to call home
The Magical Mystery Tour (#Beatles)
----------------------------
freely transported
to realms of exuberance
psychedelia
-----------------------------
Visual #1
18th February, 2016
Contest: Instant Telegram
Sponsor: Nathan D.
On Tour
To dive into the world of the great barrier reef would be enough
assimilating into the tranquil environment somewhere in the Capricorn
looking below while leaping merrily from a bluff
Like a babe in earth's womb, I am reborn.
Like a dart thrown on a map, may it land in the Atlas Mountains of Morocco
Among the snow-capped peaks, I'd breathe the air of eagles, frozen in awe
Wind whistling with legato, birds beneath quietly chirping their song in pizzicato
I would like nothing more than to remain here in this place, a place to withdraw.
Before I bounced from this terrestrial ball I'd have to party in Spain
One last hurrah flying first class to Ibiza
One last adrenaline rush, amped with red bull, taunting bulls with eyes bloodstained
One last expression from this American, perhaps a spending spree with a visa.
When the night has come and I should travel no more
Take me back home and bury me in earth's floor
16th March 2017 -Where I Want to Go contest entry
Joining a tour you meet people
Who may not be like you at all –
Politically, age-wise and maybe
With views that repel or appall.
Religion’s another divider
As well as the places you live
And quickly, you’ll learn who’s not social
Or those who have much they can give.
But mostly, the group comes together,
Conversing and laughing despite
All the differences that are apparent
To all from the very first night.
The young and the old, the Christians and Jews,
The urban and rural-type folk
Connect as they share in their journey,
Enough to enjoy the same joke.
Of course, the director’s a factor,
Uniting his charges until
There’s sufficient concern for each other
That some friendships may form (and they will).
At the end, though, with hugs and “Safe travels!”
The tour group, at last, must disperse,
Their experience richer for meeting
Fellow travelers truly diverse.
Andrea and the Andarees' tour once more:
girl group sings the hits their fans adore.
Their moves and harmonies strong;
the crowds sing along,
they know each
song -
words that reach
every heart. No wrong
notes - they know they all belong
on stage, soaking up the frenzied roar:
Andrea and the Andarees' tour once more!
"Though her visuals, depths and span have been prominent in my life's story, I am sure the Atlantic sea has never thought of me." ... CayCay Godwin
I was in the oven when I first crossed
over that vast ocean sky high above
her on a plane to Germany where I was born.
At age three a ship upon the Atlantic sea
sailed me to America, my home country which
was foreign land to me. At age
thirteen I was lent a dream, a sponsor
paid my way on a tour for chaperoned teens of
four European countries. Flying at that age,
I finally, truly saw the sea's awe.
In Amsterdam mist I was first kissed, a feel so
robust a romance mostly by
mail prevailed for a decade plus.
After high school, I pooled goodbye tears when,
again, my dad was sent to Germany
and with my sis and mom went overseas.
I flew across the Atlantic and back three times
for Christmas love, hugs and kisses.
From Cape Cod to the Keys, I have played in her waves.
My life told includes the Atlantic's role.
On my bike, fifteen gears by derailleur
I set off on my trip round Australia
But the weather was hot
Blisters grew on my bot
So the journey became quite a failure
On the Champ de Mars
(Beehive of activity)
Stands an engineering feat
Of latticed design
Ridiculed architecture
That survives the test of time.
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Form structure: 5-7-7-5-7-7
A 6 line Choka
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Contest: Choka Me
Sponsor: Dr. Ram Mehta
Placed: 6th
"Tour of Duty"
go forth and conquer
go forth and multiply
we are taught like
good little madams,
it’s fed to us right
(not left) from the get go
down our throats,
it’s ingrained
in the majority of us,
then, rank and file,
off we go, deligently
we march towards
that evocative thing promised,
Love calls us keenly,
Love calls us softly,
Love like communion,
green gardens wild daisies
crowns worn like halos,
loves me, loves me not,
loves me not, loves me,
planted and naively bedded,
we dance that dance,
into the seductive arms
of faith and chance, a wanton war
romancing our womanhood,
we roll over like puppies
our upturned faces
and stomachs stroked,
being fed red apples
like simpletons in a
moist ripe bed of roses,
sprinkled with the holy water
of keeping the win for keepsakes
framed and parked on a wall
like stag horns, momentos
of a past well worn,
our competitive
strip poker smiling faces
the blue ribbons adorned
and mounted like
miss congeniality,
good girls
wagging tails,
then feeding
children spoonfuls
of honey,
to do it all
over again
obedience
only lasts so
long
so long
tours of duties
so long
good girls
take notes
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Our love is like Gilligan's Island
but what we have is so much more
And to all the girls that I've loved before
they are but Brady Bunches on three hour tours
Cheers to the ladies on that Island
but you're my "Mary-Ann" and my "Movie Star"
come take my hand-in-hand, with candy tan
you're the best of both worlds, but much better by far
I have "Profess"ed to be your "Skipper"
tho' I'm "Thurston" for you like I do Mrs. Howell,
when you "Lovey" dove me with coconuts,
I can't help but go nuts, NOW GET ME A TOWEL!~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CLASSIC TELEVISION SHOW= Gilligan's Island
NAME= JSLambert
*Note: this Rhyme was written as a love letter-ish type of thang:) I hope ya' don't mind the weirdness of it all~:)JSL
It's time for our yearly garden tour.
My yard is one of the chosen.
Folks will be coming through to view
by the few or by the dozen.
I'll be serving the tantalizings,
sandwiches sized in tete-tete,
edible flowers as salads,
along with tea at every plate.
Paeonia and papavers
And rosa of every shade,
the bright pinks and reds and yellows, dazzle
and have not yet begun to fade.
To protect our flora we must forbid
that you bring your dog or careless kid.
Guatemala Tour
The Mayan’s were the focus
Of our Guatemala stop
We saw some ancient ruins
Had a lunch and stopped to shop
That there describes the outline
Of any tours you take
But the devil’s in the details
In the memories you make
Again we took a bus ride
This time the streets were paved
We passed twice through a village
The natives smiled and waived
Our tour guide was part Mayan
Her native outfit worn
She told us of the coffee plants
And how Chiclets gum was born
We passed active volcanoes
Smoke poured from perfect cones
And ancient rock formations
An ancient god in stones
We got up to the ruins
Saw a model of the site
That let us see just where they lived
And where they learned to fight
Some temples were uncovered
Some were buried still
We saw a death-match ball field
It gave us all a chill
We got to climb the stair steps
Where ancient rites took place
And walk there in the footsteps
Of the ancient Mayan race
We even saw some Mayans
In a private ritual pray
Asking their gods for guidance
In the ancient Mayan way
There were fires on the altar
There were flowers all around
We were privileged to observe them
There on that sacred ground
The ruins were inspiring
So old and so pristine
These ancient Mayan ruins
Were the best things we had seen
The ride back was a long one
We had to stop for lunch
With home-made fried tortillas
Fire-charred chicken with a crunch
We walked along the shops there
Some bought souvenirs
This was a trip we’ll talk about
For many, many years
Blueberries and raspberry bushes
Lush green forests
great riches and delights
The mighty mountains towering white dressed
An exclusive experience
The ground rumbles
The sky becomes dark and the earth glows red
Gas collects ... in the stomach
The explosion is near
However, this was only a small fart
04.01.2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
The tulips and daffodils
have bloomed en masse,
in the surrounding fields.
The tourists who came to
enjoy them, have gone away.
March and April brought
excitement to our ordinarily
placid lives, but we are glad
to get back to normalcy.
May is almost here and will
undoubtedly bring warmer days.
Our gardens will take over
the spotlight and the big fields
will be populated with large
farm machinery busily working
up the ground and with famers
planting other, less exotic crops.
It is a relief to be able
to take a quick dash to town
for groceries or supplies
without being held up by
clogged roads from the
cars of expectant visitors.
Our spring was exceptionally
early this year and many of
the flower hungry tourists
came too late to see them
in their highest glory.
Indeed, some of the blooms
had been topped already
by the diligent bulb growers.
In our yards and gardens,
lilacs are in bloom,
rhododendrons and azaleas
are coming into their full beauty
and perennial and annual baskets
are decorating our homes.
Peonies and Asiatic poppies
are blazing in the sun.
Our valley is still beautiful
and you are invited
to come again for a more
relaxed and less frantic visit.
Written: 4/25/16
an australian tour guides slang
when confronted by a gang
better not be bold
and get home when told
or mate you get boomerang.