Instructive Poems | Examples

A Soggy Story

There once was a little boy,
Whose imagination would not rest --
Cursed or blessed?~ was difficult to say.

Some journeys were only fantastic-play:
Sliding down waves, shaking tentacles
With friendly octopi – but there were those, also
Instructive, like the flying fish, who could not fly --

Sort of on the surface, would just lie~ and cry. Try as
He often did; not one scale would elevate...even
Garnered Gale’s windy' berate. Proud of her churning,
Dislodging force – with that little fish, like whipping an
Expired fish-horse. 

Then a trumpet, from an angel on high:

Opened in the sky, a bright, sunny eye. No sense to
Tear, little brother – one added drip to an ocean, cannot
Not change a dip, for more of the same slop – one more salty drop will 
not lift aloft a repetitious, soggy flop. Realize, from the top, a new world to see –
Now, will yourself some real wings...as did the crab his legs, and go for eternity!

Poetry

Poetry can be deep,
lord knows I have
shoveled some! Or shallow,
everyone loves icing --

instructive~ insight into
truth, passing go, a 1000
erudite words equal one, honest
poetic portrait -- 

size may somewhat count
with sex...but poetry, is
lasting intimacy –  

as mysterious as love

and insolvable as God --

The End of an Era

My bathroom has a radio
Connected to the switch
That controls the light, so people think
That there’s some kind of glitch.

But whoever needs to use it
Hears the weather and the news
And the traffic and the sports
And some instructive interviews.

Now those voices, so familiar,
Will be missing since I’ve learned
That the station, CBS-AM’s
About to be adjourned.

Also called News 88, it’s been,
For close to 60 years,
Keeping all New Yorkers up to date
With news as it appears.

I know change is bound to happen
But I will not have a clue
About all the latest news if I
Don’t hear it in the loo!

People Watching

I’m a people watcher 
A thing I instinctively do
Please don’t take offence 
If you see me watching you
Walking, such a common thing
We do every single day
But so many people seem 
To do it in their own way.

That attractive young girl
With the swinging hips
And the dazzling smile that
Could launch a thousand ships
The entwined couple in
A world of their own
Listening to music
From a shared iPhone

The grizzled veteran
In some mental despair
That he’s not as erect as
When on the drill square 
The teen slouching along 
With his dragging feet
Being quickly passed by
A bouncy stepped athlete.

Walking, a common thing 
We do every single day
Yet many of us seem 
To do it our own way
And People Watching is
A habit so compulsive
Fascinating, rewarding, 
And immensely instructive,

Running the Cycle

You hated that cycle
Stationary, destructive
You would never ride
You would be instructive
...training behavior

The moment she arrived
You held her in purity
Cuddling and kissing
The absolute assurity 
...I AM GOOD

Less than a year, gone
And you found yourself on
That blackened throne
You recognized wrong doing
Certainly worth pursuing
Getting her out of the zone
...destroying thoughts

It was skin on the petal
Chasing the air with bladed medal
Numb to screams of pain
Til the nasty demon was slain
...crying MERCY

Years past her trauma
She had created a world of drama
Blaming you for all her sorrow
You had become what you loathed
Completely clothed
In the wardrobe you had to borrow
...for the exercise

Sweet daughter, you have value
Still a baby in Mama's arms
It is the trauma that cycles
Bringing all that destroys and harms
...understanding

TRUTH remains...you are LOVED

Written by Trudy Schrader on 01-04-2023
...

Places Exclusive Are Elusive

Most of the places judged Exclusive
A keen observer impress as Elusive,
Doors firmly closed to The Intrusive,
Their sweet airy windows inclusive...

From these I'd try statements conclusive:
Fate not changed by one being intrusive
And, clearly,not by being submissive
In relation to the Exclusive
Kept by a body damned cohesive
With dumb hatred for The Permissive...

The whole thing,here on earth,instructive:
Look more inwardly: be constructive
Or soon thou shalt be The Promiscuous
For just wanting to be conspicuous.



Category,cry,money, people,wisdom

What Is Your Job

Painter paints with a brush and hooded mind.
Dentist extracts, injects with a pointed mind.
Mind of cacophony is what a singer has.
Orator hails, evading a faux pas.
Chef cooks with an aproned mind.
Scientist invents, minded with formulas.
Cartoonist strokes, gifted with artistry 
Dubber voices over to cover up travesty.
A wrestler can break anybody with a ranting mind.
Audience can just watch and listen with a calming mind.
If a dancer prances with a swirling mind
  then a choreographer can relax to unwind.
So many other occupations with distinct minds,
Instructive of vocations and interests
  descriptive of master minds.

What is your job?

Abecedarian Alliteration

An abecedarian Australian animal activist
Bagged bodacious big bucks
Caustically criticizing crocodiles,
Driving darling dragons
Essentially extinct. Eschewing
Fact, fabricating fanciful fiction,
Grifting gloriously,
He haughtily held hostage
Important, instructive information,
Juxtaposed jaundiced, junk
Kangaroo kills,
Leveling large lizard libel,
Manufacturing marsupial misinformation malevolently.
On other ominous occasions,
Preferring pernicious propaganda,
Quickly, querulously, quashed
Real, rational reports, rather,
Substituted several substantially
Tarnished technical travesties,
Undermining unified understanding.
Very vociferously, viciously
Wrote works without warrant,
Xenophobic xenotypic
yarns, yammering yellow-bellied yawps,
Zombie-like, zealously.

Breaking the Silence

“You wound, like Parthians, while you fly, and kill with a retreating eye.” Samuel Butler

DODGING PARTHIAN SHOTS
(WHILE STALKING GOLIATH AND TRENCH)

By ELZBIETA BIENGA

Edited by ELSI TRESÉD

INVENTORIED CONTENTS:

1.	Instructive Condescension
2.	Intemperate Confessions
3.	Indecent Contortions
4.	Infernal Conundrums
5.	Indecipherable Consequences
6.	Inevitable Conclusions

YOU GET THE WHOLE BAG WITH BADSEEDPRESS

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Eating and Poetry

EATING...


A chore, I do not like.
It interrupts my quilling!
To eat, I am most unwilling.
I'd rather recite poetry at a mike.

French coffee, my love, divine.
Yes, cinnamon and whipped cream.
Now that's a poet's aromatic dream.
In a golden mug, visually fine.

Dont dare call me lazy or unproductive!
For in waves or romance, my heart lives.
With poetry, something, valuable to give.
These are my words, hopefully,instructive.


                    5/1/2021
                      ~2~

Conformity

Social influence that influence ones belief and behavior,
being the sheep idiom in suit of group as inferior identity savior.
Compliances and obedience for the hero or nymph resort,
names and numbers as taste for pleasure of the court.
Instructive expectations in order to avoid looking foolish,
becoming strong in unity of the mass psychology bliss.
Procrastinations to adhere to moral obligation,
bringing out the darkest impulse to justify that situation.
Large scale atrocities for the greater good as ideal,
manipulated propaganda consequence imperial.
The change in response to pressure of social norms,
ethical values in humanity political deforms.
The mediocrity of conformity and its karmic hungry judges,
sentence wretches in time by individual budges.
The mental mill keeps on turning with the wind,
where fiery spirits blaze by gravity and its many scent.
The revolution not out there in golden words brocade,
freeing oneself from controlling theories need to be displayed.
Being infinitely pliable defines the space to be responsible,
and the soul of the world will give ones everything possible.

Delightful Mystery

Reading to me is so fascinating
With learning gains, surely liberating
Meeting mind’s search for wonders, never quenched
Enriching heart through counsel, delighting.

Complex process of thinking fortitude
Reading brings me nigh to God’s quietude
As I encamp in His Scriptures, musing
Bracing up my spiritual gratitude.

Mystery to my finite perspective
Though science makes it simply instructive
Reading midst its awesome complexities
Illumines me by its truth’s directive.

Comprehending still remains mysterious
For my seeking intellect, still curious
Since its blessedness I cannot fathom
In Bible study for faith victorious.

*Nehemiah 8:8 So they read in the book in the law of God distinctly, and gave the sense, and caused them to understand the reading. 

“Mystery Words Found” from the King James Bible: quenched, counsel, quietude, encamp, blessedness

October 17, 2020
2nd place, "Mystery Word Find" Poetry Writing Contest  
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger; judged on 10/27/2020.

And We Re Off With a Bang

For I myself,
I sit and watch and wait
as if time were transcendental
as though I can make life’s 
moments move
FAST 
or s l o w.

As if some preconceived and instructive checklist 
were handed to me.
I watch now,
as the world goes round,
heeding THIS man’s deference 
to
THAT man’s song.

The string,
which binds all to this planet,
ever present
and equidistant 
between the generations
of all who have gone before.
Does our voyeurs perception 
cast an untenable perspective?
Thrusting those 
measured and metered days
into chaos.
Can one persevere, 
and succeed
IF Schrodingers cat 
is both 
ALIVE and DEAD ?
Has that tree really fallen in the forest,
IF no one observed it’s final decay 
as it falls
and thuds
with mediocrity 
to the ground, to take note ?
Are WE star dust blown cautiously by the wind ?
Or
Are WE in an ever repeating cyclical cycle of 
BIRTH
LIFE
DEATH
RINSE and REPEAT ?
A soul of  blood,  flesh,  tears, happiness and pain,
on a journey from nothingness 
and back again.

If I Were An Elephant

Oh, if I were an elephant
   I sure would march around and rant
      with loud and deep instructive roar
         demanding mostly to implore

my fellow elephants to find...
   all matriarchs and males combined...
      some ways to camouflage our prize
         and make them dull to human eyes.

Though we are dark, our tusks are white;
   stand out in leafage day and night.
      For them, we're martyred every day.
         Perhaps there is a better way?

When good men tag our floppy ears,
   they could then calm our deepest fears...
      and paint our tusks a camo green
         so through the brush cannot be seen.


Sandra M. Haight

~NA~
Contest: If I Were An Elephant
Sponsor: Mystic Rose
Judged: 12/12/2016

Over the Middle Passage of Time

Over the Middle Passage of Time
(Apropos of Trials and Triumphs)

In the crypt of the ocean’s deep
Lay ivory bones
Of screaming ebony souls
Drowned in due seasoned journeys
Across middle passage sojourns
Of pilgrim’s progress
Yoking labor in the wrinkles of the earth
From the fresh dawn to the tired dust thereof:
Nothing fertilizes like wet sweat and dried blood.

When the instructive tongues of ancestors 
Tap at the door of attentive ears
Spirits scale skyscraper yearnings of home
Parachuting shackles of mind and body
Drifting in earthy fields of rusty ways;
No, the last supper will not be here.

The lit torch illuminates the new summons;
The passage of time forgives but never forgets;
The Supreme Master of the Universe spills His cup
Into the Saucer of which we now sip:
Because of His amazing grace, we shall not
Sup the tainted bastard blue blood of disgrace.

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