seductive Galway gal would not stay
such savage beauty she went astray
whether Corrib, whether Mask
Connemara man to ask
to Inishbofin she played away
Leitrim lout took drink by the flagon
very short coast, very short wagon
went inland to buy a boat
all-aboard, beer for his goat
so raised a glass, Carrick-on-Shannon
wild west playboy from county Mayo
did for his dad, very own say so
holy mountain, dreaming star
left the pub at Castlebar
shoe hanging out his Ford Mondeo
Roscommon culchie, gangly and rare
hung out near Boyle with spindly long hair
web below her knobbly knee
bank to bank across lough Ree
wrapped up her men, eight legs in the air
our Sligo boy, no good at countin'
he spied some girls down by the fountain
one, two, three, how many more?
his favourite to adore
he chased her up Benbulben mountain
daft colleen from precipitous Clare
bold like the Burren, grey bedrock stare
turloughs flowing, born and bred
banner county, father Ted
Cliffs of Moher she jumped for a dare
floaty accent, wayward man of Cork
culinary city, knife and fork
horizon dreams he was fed
Cobh harbour past Mizen head
around Kinsale then off to New York
bad tempered Kerryman lost his ring
by the Killarney lakes he did fling
butt of jokes, very cruel
Dingle berries, Carrantouhill
his MacGillycuddys reek and sing
Limerick poetess made you think
five lines she wrote then, ran out of ink
first, second and fifth must rhyme
shorter third and fourth are fine
but must keep their rhythm all in 'sync'
Tipperary jockey rode with pace
sure she won the Grand National race
cheered from lough Derg to Cashel
from Nenagh down to Clonmel
loud bells were rung for her steeplechase
Waterford witch, many followers
her crystal glass, many swallowers
toast to the oldest city
viking girl, very pretty
velvet voice. plenty polymers
The carnival came once a year.
My friends and I could hardly wait.
The lively music reached us long
before we ever reached the gate.
We’d pay our dollar to get in
and join in with the jostling throng.
Our laughter added to the noise--
that wild, discordant, happy “song.”
“Come win a goldfish—over here!”
“No thanks!” I held my money tight.
The Ferris Wheel and Tilt-a-Whirl
caused us to squeal with pure delight.
Now grandkids cheer from creaking rides,
the ones I fear I rode back in
the sixties! Now I cringe feet from
the grinding gears. The screeching fades
and they emerge. We make our way
around the fair. I hear a shout:
“Win goldfish. It’s your lucky night!”
I say, “No thanks” because I doubt
it is. The fair in some respects
is as it was when I was ten—
the jolly music and the maze
of noisy rides and people. When
the youngsters’ grand experience
has ended, I’ll go home and lie
in bed and think of just how fast
those childhood pleasures pass us by.
The river runs with silver light,
A ribbon wound through fields of white.
The moon looks down, so round, so bright,
On love that whispered in the night.
She walked alone, her heart so wild,
A dreamer lost, a trusting child.
Soft words had lured her to the deep,
Where water sings and shadows creep.
Beneath the branches bending low,
She met the one she used to know.
His hand was warm, his voice was sweet,
Yet darkness coiled beneath his feet.
A vow, a touch, a fleeting breath,
Then silence cold and still as death.
The river's arms embraced her tight,
And bore her far into the night.
The willows wept along the shore,
They knew her step would come no more.
The moon still glows, the stars still gleam,
Yet love lies drowned in sorrow's stream.
And he who swore to keep her near
Now walks with neither love nor fear,
For trust once shattered, life once lost,
Drifts nameless in the waters tossed.
Problem Statement, cook county, sheriff in style !
My father’s daughter was engaged to my father’s sister’s son.
My father’s mother opted out to have a side to join the festive eve.
She (narrator) stopped as she (interpreter) intervened.
O yeah! Your tortilla and your taco and your feeling!!!!!
Self reliance and legacy of family tradition.
Whom to say? To usher a may?
My father’s niece was engaged to my father’s nephew.
My father’s mother opted out (to die before) to join the festive eve.
Jumpin' Frog
My name is Dan'l Webster
this is my story and I'm stickin' to it
I'm green with a long tongue
wet, slimy skin for a coat.
I eat all sorts of insects
but flies, now there’s a delicacy.
Used to live in a pond
till Jim Smiley took me.
Sure do miss my family
and all my friends.
Had a good job
racing others of my kind.
Jim would bet money
with others of his kind.
I was the best. I could
out hop another for distance
and speed. Twasn't hard as
I was rewarded with flies.
A stranger appeared one day
looking to bet with ole' Jim.
He needed one like me, so
I was left with the stranger.
Whilst Jim went out for another
like me, that stranger filled me
with big round lead balls.
Don't taste like any flies.
Jim came back and bet $40
that I could beat this new
challenger. Well, someone
said go and I couldn't move.
Jim lost his 40 smackers and
was madder than a wet hornet.
When the stranger left, Jim
picked me up and I felt heavier.
He turned me upside down
and I croaked and them metal
balls rolled out. Jim was upset
but couldn't find the stranger.
I never raced in Calaveras County
again. That's my story and I'm
stickin' to it.
the air reeks of stale coffee and ink-stamped lies,
judges sit like smug kings,
smirking over lives they'll never live,
dismissing truth with a gavel's cough.
innocent men shuffle like cattle,
faces drawn, hands calloused from the grind—
plead guilty or rot waiting.
'justice, ' they call it,
while the lawyers get fat off their despair.
the court stenographer types it all up,
the lies, the twisted logic,
and the perjury sworn like gospel
under a fluorescent crucifix.
if you or I did what they do,
we'd be cuffed and carted off,
but they wear robes like armor,
cloaked in immunity,
proud in their manipulation,
gods of small, dirty kingdoms.
good men shrink in fear,
their courage ground down
by the grinding stone of this machine—
truth doesn't pay,
honor doesn't sell,
and doing the right thing
is the fastest way to lose.
Hillsborough,
where the guilty are freed
and the innocent are crushed,
where justice is just another game
rigged from the start,
Callused, without a true heart.
You opened your heart for me
on a Friday evening
after I worked in Green Bay.
My friend who lived near
Milwaukee said you
were the best place
to be in Wisconsin,
the forests
and tourist shops
that lay between
the bay and Lake Michigan.
I glanced to my right and knew
the lake was there
the endless waters and sky
but as I was driving
to Sturgeon Bay
I looked to the clouds
I was calling out to you
to take me on a greater journey
somewhere beyond the stars.
As I turned to go downtown
a bow of a ship appeared
the frame yet to take shape.
I remembered my younger days
spent along the shores
of The Great Lakes.
Patrons at a tourist bar
near the shipyard
as the jukebox played
proclaimed your sons and daughters
built the iron vessels
with their study hands—
it was a way of life to them.
The bartender said
explorers and sailors
died in your waters
as I finished my drink.
Streetlights twinkled
as I said goodnight to you
and my tires sang as I drove.
When I turned off the radio
I heard a whisper
the sound of your voice
calling me back.
small town in boonies
nestled by busy river
hash is full of cash
*"rabbit hash is full of cash" is there actual motto. This hidden gem has been a general store in Kentucky since 1831.
Rooster starts to crow
sun chases away night's stars-
No alarms required
when being Mounty
would come to Brunswick County
to collect a bounty
12/17/2023
There are always new bridges
ahead and new friends to meet…
So if a poem gets few comments…
do not, do not retreat in defeat!
Keep those beautiful eyes on the glory
that lies ahead!
Place your quill on the paper and keep
writing, till it's time to go to be bed!
Your life experiences are the gems that
you and only you hold.
That will blossom before your spiritual
eyes into pieces of poetic gold!
Use pictures,use music, use God's
creattions to get that poet soul dreaming.
It's then, on the crests of graceful poetry
you'll be joyfully reeling.
With cotton candy
Pink and dandy,
Funnel cakes, sweet
All you can eat
A Ferris wheel
To make you squeal,
The carousel
Sure looks swell
Toss a ring
To win something,
Pop a balloon
You'll get it soon
Try to get that prize
Go for the biggest size,
Win a pet if you wish
Take home a goldfish
Stay there all night
For every sound and sight,
Like a kid again, be
So much to do and see
Show off what you do
Win a ribbon, blue,
Shower what you raise
With the highest praise
Craft and quilt
By hands built,
Goodness canned
Grown on the land
Pumpkins and pies
To delight the eyes,
Each cow and pig
The biggest of the big
Farmer's best on display
Sat in a pile of hay,
Take in the dairy air
At the county fair!
The hum of the motors that run the rides,
watching cars on tracks going up and down.
Squeals and screams from all those children that ride,
scrambler, octopus, and merry-go-round.
From the excitement of the tilt-a-whirl,
to the view from atop the Ferris wheel.
Stealing kisses from your favorite girl,
how wonderful the county fair did feel.
There were carnies barking out to the crowd,
telling us all about their games of chance.
Spend a dollar to win a ten-cent bear,
was all part of the county fair’s romance.
Toss a ball at a milk can pyramid,
trying to knock them over if you can.
If you can manage to do it just right,
then you might win your girl a paper fan.
Popcorn, cotton candy, and funnel cakes,
things that a fairgoer can’t live without.
Live country music at the beer garden,
that’s where all the older folks would hang out.
Seems there was a contest for just about,
everything that is possible to judge.
People hoping for red, or blue ribbons,
on their pigs or cows or jellies or fudge.
weather forecasts spoofed
dark storms come and go at whim-
lawns and rainbows smile
Sub Categories
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.