in an already crowded
canvas, and sure-
cornered life
Why do I put a Calvin
(drew, colored, cut out)
whistling
on top of my impressionist
lake watercolor
that my mother told me
needed fine-tuning?
I never made a small impression
I was always a little too loud
I combined colors and sounds
violently
I look like Annie Hall on Monday,
Frida Kahlo on Tuesday,
A hungover Greta Garbo on Wednesday,
Jack Black's twin-sister on Thursday,
a menopausal mess of me on Friday,
and the weekend is simply
a free-for-all
Why can't I love
peacefully?
The whales call their calves
in clicks, and know it better
than I do, up here
We had;
Interlude and
of Mice and men.
A star is born and
Gone with the wind.
A child bride and
The Wizard of Oz.
Cocaine Fiends and
Sweeney Todd.
The Jaguar and
The gay divorcee.
The Marx brothers
And the Maserati.
79 Park Ave and
Mannequin.
The Porsche and
Erroll Flynn.
The Rolls Royce and
Curly top.
John Wayne and
King Porter stomp.
The Packard and
Hilo Hawaii.
Gary Cooper and
The Bugatti.
Frankenstein and
The Alfa Romeo
The Fiat and
Abbott and Costello.
The BMW and
Eternal call.
The Lone Ranger and
All creatures great
and small.
The Bentley and
Agent Carter.
The Green hornet
And Days of Honor.
An Indian summer
And The Duesenberg.
Greta Garbo and
The Thorn Birds.
Turbo1904?
“Life would be so wonderful if we only knew what to do with it. ”
Quote _Greta Garbo
Greta Garbo,
born poor- she was considered a weirdo;
but Hollywood said- her acting skill we can tweet,
because she has beauty ... even though she has huge feet!
_____________________
December 16, 2022
Poetry/Clerihew/Dreamt of Being a Star
Copyright Protected, ID 12-1509-188-16
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, A Poetry Marathon, Mile 23
sponsor, Mark Toney, Judged 01/04/2023
"Everyone of us live our life just once,
if we are honest, to live once is enough."
Greta Garbo, 1938
so live in tranquility for it is the place
of imagination and reflection
be you, be mellow, be calm
be gentle, be respectful
be pleasant
listen
find harmony
contemplate the infinite
the intricate and spiritual
keep talking and life will be nothing
keep quiet and life will be full in excess
_________________________
October 13, 2022
Poetry/Free Verse/Living Just Once
Copyright Protected, ID 10-1494-230-13
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, A Brian Strand Premiere Choice
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 10/16/2022
A girl in the crowd takes a selfie.
Her tam o’shanter sparkles
because of the fireworks going off
in the background, and because it has glitter.
At the gates of Moscow
weary French troops run away
hands over their ears, as Tchaikovsky
fires his righteous cannons.
The girl with the cell
is as pretty as her friend beside her,
but her friend outshines the tam o’shanter
as if it were just an ordinary beret.
She has sapphires in her eyebrows.
Kids in earshot of adults
‘wow’ or mouth age-appropriate obscenities.
The limp body of a teenage messiah
is elbowed and pushed around by his disciples.
Several rows back, a woman is laughing
as she cranes her neck skyward;
from the chin up, she looks like Greta Garbo,
only she is short and fat.
Rockets fly like fan-dancing ostriches.
The truncated 1812 Overture burps to a close.
My lens can’t capture the woman
or the girl, or her friend
who now all shine like diamonds.
I can’t fit all of this into 12 mega pixels.
The night eventually stops throwing missiles
at the moon,
the girls, and women fizz out,
the kids continue to sizzle
until they are led away by dark-eyed dreams.
A girl in the crowd takes a selfie.
Her tam o’shanter sparkles
because of the fireworks going off
in the background.
At the gates of Moscow
Tchaikovsky runs away
hands over his ears.
The girl with the cell
is as pretty as her friend beside her,
but her friend outshines the tam o’shanter
as if it were just an ordinary beret.
She has sapphires in her eyebrows.
Kids in earshot of adults
‘wow’ or mouth age-appropriate obscenities.
The limp body of a teenage messiah
is elbowed and pushed around by his disciples.
Several rows back, a woman is laughing
as she cranes her neck skyward.
From the chin up, she looks like Greta Garbo,
only she is short and fat.
Rockets fly like fan-dancing ostriches.
The truncated 1812 Overture burps to a close.
My lens can’t capture the woman
or the girl, or her friend
who now shines like a diamond.
I can’t fit all of this into 12 mega pixels.
The night stops throwing cannonballs
at 1 a.m.
Give me a whisky
With a ginger ale on the side
And don’t be stingy
What great lines
For a great actor
Like Greta Garbo
Her first screen words spoken
But in the end
She just wanted to be left alone.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Greta Garbo
by R.e. Taylor
I know you wish to be anonymous
To never be seen again
But the world will not allow that to happen
I know it may be presumptuous of me to say
At one time, you were a beauty beyond compare
A talent that anyone else would only envy
You may have lost your looks and your talent
And you locked yourself away because of it
But Miss Garbo you are still hiding in there
Just look at your reflection and you will see her
And I know that she still loves her fans
So, just once before you die
Come out into the open
Leave your fears behind
And just tell us the good bye you never told us
We may cry but not for our loss
We will cry because we will know you still care
And that will be what we will remember about you
© 2017 Shadowlight Publishing
I stand in front of the mirror
Trying to look a dish
Puckering up the lips
Practicing for a kiss
I half close my eyes
For the Greta Garbo look
I don’t look a bit like
the siren in a book
Looks more like I have myopia
Squinting like a fool
How can I look seductive
What's the golden rule
Lips all red and shiny
Rehearsals come to an end
Had plenty of practice
Courtesy of a friend
I stand here by the mistletoe
With what I hope is a seductive face
A wet juicy kiss smeared my mouth
Yuck what an utter waste.
Penned on the 18th December 2013
Fred Astaire was king of tap
Biggie Smalls was huge in rap
Carson (Johnny)ruled TV
Dylan’s songs are poetry
Elvis made the girls all swoon
Frank Sinatra loved to croon
Greta Garbo hid from sight
Hitchcock gave us all a fright
Isaac Hayes’ voice dips low
Johnny Depp steals every show
Kenny G can blow that sax
Larry David can’t relax
Michael Jackson changed his face
Norah Jones embodies grace
Oscar Wilde wrote books and plays
Peter Falk had piercing gaze
Quincy Jones finds music stars
Raitt (That's Bonnie) rocks guitars
Sally Field lights up the screen
Tony Kushner nails each scene
Uma Thurman makes men drool
Viggo’s talented and cool
William Shatner’s still around
Xin Xin Xiong in films is found
Yoko Ono married John
Zach Braff’s big on Amazon
All this talent, A to Z
Keeps us entertained, agree?
for Cyndi MacMillan's ABC Couplet contest
You just don’t appreciate me
And all the things I do
When I don’t come home until late
I do it all for you
I treat you like a movie star
After two days I call you on the phone
Actually I treat you like Greta Garbo
She wanted to be alone
You don’t understand the sacrifices
That I make each day of the year
Instead of wonderful quality time at home
I spend lousy time drinking beer
Sometimes I stay up all night with a friend
Because she’s, I mean he’s feeling down
You want me to be a more caring person
So it’s for you I’m on that side of town
I hope this will help you understand
Why I do all the things I do
So you know when I’m not home for a week
That I’m doing it all for you.
Just fun and fiction!!!!!
Lightening bugs flash,
like the worn celluloid images of old movies,
I sit beneath a great Greta Garbo moon.
I am the heroine of this short.
The dew point drops,
Mists rise.
Crickets chirp.
Muskwats buzz.
Loons ululate and wail.
My dialogue,
The click and whir of my spinning reel.
The glug-glug-glug of the Hula Popper lure.
To prepare for the climax,
Bring out the proven method acting.
I taste the dirt on my fingers,
Licking and twisting monofilament.
The savory sign of night-crawler trails.
Add the bobber, the weight.
I smell the algae and rotting leaves.
The sweet stew of the lake.
My nose tingles from the life motes it captures.
I cast.
This night, I ad-lib.
There never was a script,
No stupid fish.
Fade to Me,
The Garbo moon,
Clever fish,
Loon interlude.
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