ghoulish gray ghosts gather in Galloway Gallows
girls scouts come by with Hersheys and marshmallows
goblins and ghouls stand around in the moors
hoping one of them will drop their tasty Smores
wily wild Wisconsin witches whisk by on Brookside brooms
tormenting the others, flying in and out of the rooms
we normals are quick to make excuses and leave
purple purebred puritans provide plenty of peeve
Barbara Valentine Sublime!
May I be your Valet?
Drive your Horse & Buggie?
Spark your Wish Come True!
Blooma “Bootiful” as a Lily of the Valley,
Here are 3 kisses & a “huggie”,
May Shalom Beis thus accrue!
Warm envelope addressed to our foray,
To Brookside where Crocuses Tug Ye,
Roses are Red & so my bowing knee,
My ears are yours to listen to your dream anthology!
Liza B of Yorkshire stock
a tinsmith'a wife
her face bears
travails of life
Lily B orphaned
in a sad manner
commissioned
'neath the army's banner
Violet O born in the great war
father Ernest
she never saw
Anne S unanswered
questions still accrue
the granma
some never knew
Frances L her tragedy
was to unfold
the exact details
remain untold
Annie O granny Mayo,
mother came to know
by the canal
at Brookside row
Susanna O a mid-victorian maid
her determination
does not fade
Ethel G's fish&chips held sway
in her wakefield take-a-way
Harriet H high cheeked,pretty&petite
of twinklig eyes&
dressed so neat
Edith G of Jewish stock
a housewife so usung
to me,her face
is ever young
in the bliss of blooms
in the richness of old gold
chattering I hear
day of fresh breezes
in luxurious summer
brookside in fragrance
starry-eyed starling
his song carried by the wind
a romantic dream
Tripped on Cupid
Chaim buzzes like a roving bee, "Hey, Honey!!"
Stumbling loving me..."I'll try saying it! Warm & funny":
Together, We delight in any 'Lil Thing,
Like eyeing Brookside Crocuses, purple heralds of Spring!
Can I give you a soothing back rub?
For I'm a wobbling wheel, you're my hub!!
My enamored emotional senses create the wobble,
Without you, Barbara, my life would be trouble!!
Per chance, let's dance... "Hula Hoop it",
I offer a fumble footed jig, Tripped on Cupid!
Clay Men
The clay man died. He's a member of the dead. He's in the van on the passenger seat, made of concrete. Morphs onto the driver's face. Hey, you're dead! What? He's talking normal. Put him in the concrete mixer. Mix him up. Moving like liquid mercury man. Barry from Brookside, crap actor. Now dead, clay man. Van driver to wear? False clothes.
I heard it from an anvil
the metal brookside churning
and fire brass inferno
that later took my silence inside a broken shadow
I heard it from an anvil
he spoke of words unweilding
like protozoa brooding
and elvin skin and tatoo freaks a smooching
paused from all the moods swings
to sway back forth my lewd crude oozing
tis the nose, let forth my conviction
as high notes poke a choke she goosed in
im fused in an entirely
perplexed with latex anamolies
that ruse my use of snugs unloosed
running passed the idlers of traffic
to make my stops in crests of the topless
oh dear to touch the moon how so without rockets
these chests that dropp mosh pits
developing my nocturnal hog fits
a pest with unrest that bests the rock lists
i send one note out to you
this is my pavement to mock this
Greener fields from a distance
So beautiful, can’t stop but glance
Peacefulness I feel in my heart
Bluish sky I see from above
Trees stand tall high and mighty
Birds singing and appreciate its beauty
Animals scattered nowhere
Eating grass here and everywhere
Children’s happily playing with excitement
No worries, no disappointments
The spectacular picture I see
God made it for you and me
August 11, 2012
(Brookside Valley Resort)
For PD's Contest
2nd Place Winner "Old/New Nature Poems"
Be at peace, the stars all glistened
Be still and calm, came from the moon
Listen to God roared all the mountains
For Christ the Lord is coming soon
Walk among the lush green meadows
Pick a daisy, smell so sweet
Dip your hand there by the brookside
Wash your feet there in the deep
Hear the trees sway tunes of glory
Christ the Lord thus made them all
The time that He does come again
We must then hear His final call
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.