newspaper business has brought us far
to these territories where desert rivers
descend from huge clouds cultivated
but we live on twisted lips to build
something for those coming in
oh you who love this place
by the tourist book is a man
who loves a woman by
a guidebook of sex positions now
It's your intrepid space explorer, here -
reporting from the planet Earth.
It's a difficult place to live, I fear,
but my advice for what it's worth
is when someone's looking for a fight,
just say, "I'd like to stay and play,
but I must be somewhere else tonight",
and calmly turn and walk away.
Yet, if there is something to be gained,
don't be afraid to talk (not shout).
After both positions have been explained,
you might be able to work it out.
Also, try to love. For all that you may give,
(it seems to me, so very true)
on this planet where we now live,
double will come back to you.
I readily admit I am a country bumpkin
But I am no buffoon
I am in this to build others up
To help others win
To raise up my neighbors and my friends
We hear about the coastal towns
Both east and west coast have terrific reputations
Their people are more sophisticated, more stylish, chic.
It is fashionable at both coasts to be less hands-on.
To be less community oriented.
In the big citiies of the coasts, people on the streets do not speak.
They do not smile.
They do not say “hi”.
They walk past each other, like trotting lamp posts.
Not noticing faces or inflections.
Not noticing humanness in each other.
I am in New York City today, trying to figure it out.
Where is a guidebook to help me unlearn social niceties?
How can I immediately become less human? Less caring?
How do I not say “hi” to everyone I pass?
Is there a manual? A cheat sheet? A U-tube video?
Too late. I am already here, feeling miserable.
Wishing I was back in the Midwest where it is okay to care about strangers.
We went to romantic Scotland for our honeymoon on Hogmanay
Had no idea it was a rather special brunette-only-welcome kind of day
My husband tried to go into the lobby of the bed and breakfast twice.
He is Dane, and blonde, so they barred the door not twice, but thrice.
What is going on? I asked him, when he came back to bed, all mad.
No idea, he said, but they would not let me in. He acted kind of sad.
They kept yelling Hogmanay, and I have no idea what that means.
I ran down to find out, I was met with shrieks, whistles and screams.
Retrieved guidebook and looked up Hogmanay to see what I could see.
Superstition says day after December 31st your next visitor should be
A male with brunette hair, if you want to have any kind of luck.
We had chosen Scotland during Hogmanay. I had to say “Oh, Fruck!”
The past can be found written in history books,
Statues stand and tell no lies.
To see the future, to the stars you need to look.
We are pawns in a game of queens, kings, and rooks;
Bygone crimes we seek to sanitize.
The past can be found written in history books.
Time does not change a hero to a crook,
And to the devil you cannot eulogize.
To see the future, to the stars you need to look.
No matter what liberties with the truth are took,
Man’s bygone crimes remain, that all must realize.
The past can be found written in history books.
Always remember: man’s follies are just a page in God’s scrapbook,
Our foolishness we look to normalize.
To see the future, to the stars you need to look.
This world came without a guidebook,
Our past is not perfect and cannot be idealized.
The past can be found written in history books.
To see the future, to the stars you need to look.
Understanding me is not an easy task,
It takes a while to see behind my mask.
I’m kind, caring and hardworking,
Don’t mistake that for being easy going.
I’m like a Rubrik cube to put it plain,
No two sides are the colors the same.
My heart values are the only constant,
Change is an element of life constant.
Only a few people really know me,
You only see what I want you to see.
Quite reserved when you meet me,
It takes a while to really know me.
I can reel you in like a fishhook,
Teaching me is like reading a guidebook.
By no means am I an open book,
Knowing me requires a closer look.
~ ~ ~ ~
Looking up I was so awestruck,
suddenly my muse was unstuck;
oh windstorm_
I saw a huge flock of bluebirds,
singing a song so long unheard;
oh rainstorm_
I got out my poem notebook,
my poetry cookbook, guidebook;
oh brainstorm_
Oh joy and glee- I am carefree,
yes, I have opened the latchkey;
oh firestorm_
Muse came to me on the skyline,
with bluebirds flying a grapevine;
oh snowstorm_
________________________
May 8, 2020
Poetry/Compounding Verse/Muse Came in a Storm
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1249-637-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the contest, Compound Verse
sponsor, Joseph May
Third Place
Crook!
She stole my guidebook,
my pink Ray-Bans, my outlook
— it’s grim. The schnook
snatched my Diamonte fountain pen. She took
my attaché case filled with cash. Forsook
my manners — she’s in my grip. A sirloin meat hook
indubitably-yes or to pressure-cook.
I turned her upside-down and shook
A nearby copper brings us in after he has a look.
The judge closed the book
on me. Called me a crook…
that schnook!
8/5/2019
This is a poem to tell you what poetry must be,
A how-to-write-a-poem guidebook for you, by me.
A poem must have both rhythm and rhyme,
And be happy and jumpy and apply to the time.
Have lots of imagery! Use simile and metaphor,
With “like” and “as”, your poem will have color.
Please don’t use any prose in your poems, because it often confuses the reader, and then no-one will like or appreciate your writing.
A poem mustn’t be controversial or confusing,
But straight forward- write the literary devises you are using!
If your poem is read and the reader is unsure,
Or confused as to its meaning, your poem is a failure!
It cannot be bias, or from a specific point of view,
Otherwise no-one will like your poem, other than you!
The easier and simpler your poem is read,
The better it will be- that’s what every teacher said!
Regardless of your poem, make sure you never,
No matter what you’re writing, don’t use sarcasm, not ever!
Watch the people walking –
Check their bodies, not their faces.
You can tell a lot as they
Perambulate their paces.
Strutters filled with confidence
Step lively, arms a’swinging,
Silently announcing
It’s their “A” game they are bringing.
Trudgers tramp with labored tread –
They’re carrying a weight;
Dispirited, they have no place
To which they might be late.
Tourists amble merrily;
They traipse on guidebook treks,
Jauntily meandering,
Their cameras ‘round their necks.
On any city street, observe –
Analysis awaits,
For there’s a lot to learn
By scrutinizing people’s gaits.
With crack of first light of dawn
The day's work begins; sleep's gone
Gather food; cook
Aroma fills air, breathe on.
Spices, herb bouquet add-on
Day has great outlook
Just short time to lay eyes on
My poetry notebook write-on
Bible read on
Just as Bible is guidebook
For life, food needs a cookbook
Then meals invite
Reading Bible helps outlook
On life, cookbook gives new look
Or change outright
In life wrong way you may have took
Not too late_change_read handbook
Get it now right
The reward is great as bite
Nutmeg_sugar laced delight
Good baked apple
Simple food, life live right
Change become a guiding light
Be ensample
Eat good food_let soul soar heights
Longevity_inner light
No thorn apples
Sponsor:David Williams
Contest:Virelai
friend
encyclopedia own hundreds notions, but the most important answers of the
life's questions one can't find there. the colleague
vocabulary own myriad words, but the most significant sentenses of the
life's speech one can't gain there. the guidebook atlas
own thousands maps, but the most paramount way of the life's path one
can't see there. the buddy calendar own the
clock's time, but the supreme hour of the life's extreme one can't
measure there
I regret
there is no guidebook for love
..I regret
manual to parenthood
I too regret
mistakes and anxious concerns
as you grew,I too,slow to learn
I regret
there is no guidebook for love
..I regret
manual to parenthood
I too regret
not speaking, aloud my love
..I regret
wanting, too much for you
I too regret
seeking ,what you could not see
...I regret
trying ,to make you too much like me
.. I regret
there is no guidebook for love
Today I questioned reason with rigor.
I tried to find an explanation for my being.
A rhetorical question with mystifying vigour,
that opens doors to new ways of seeing.
The first thought drafted a blatant visual,
of characteristics found in a mirror tall.
Vanity, greed and desire, all perpetual….
Concluding that the biggest always fall.
So how do I define my self in my humanity?
How do I portray my existence in flesh?
The answer therein stews false piety,
offering another creature caught in mesh.
Then who am I, should you ask?
Our content in consideration akin.
Thought, emotions and thirst locked in cask,
or just a random soul rapped in skin?
Maybe a stranger to this time for a joke,
searching reason in the scrip to this play?
Awaiting the night to croak,
companion of death where it lay,
concealed in its pitch-black coat.
In the distant horizon my answer float.
That means that for the moment all to see,
is that in the here and now I am where I should be.
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.