Long Soup Poems
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Should'a Read The Fine Print
I am intrigued by all computer tasks,
and competent and skilled in every scheme
from word process and graphic arts design,
to spreadsheets, database and all between.
But, I became too confident last week
when I downloaded upgrades that were bad
for programs that I use...I acted quick...
and what a sad computer crash I had!
You see, the upgrade versions were not right;
computer froze with dreaded screen of blue!
Technician came and, for a hefty price,
it was repaired and set to go as new.
The moral is, I thought I knew it all
and cut some corners...shortened up the stint.
I learned a lesson I will not forget...
I really should'a read that dang fine print!
Sandra M. Haight
~10th Place~ Premiere Congest
Contest: I Really Should'a Read the Fine Print
Sponsor: John Lawless
Iambic Meter: 10 syllables and 5 feet per line
Judged: 04/28/2016
True story - This happened April 2, 2016, and I got my computer back a week later.
Thank goodness I had all my documents and important files backed up on an
external hard drive (done every day) whereby I hooked it up to an older computer and could proceed with my work - especially for Poetry Soup!!
T'was freezing cold and I struggled in the heat
I was pleased I'd put warm gloves on my feet
I shouldn't have been out on such a cold night
High in the sky was the sun and shining so bright.
Not far to walk home now just fifty odd miles
Minutes later I'd be home, my face full of smiles
My brother was with me and she felt the cold too
Shouldn't have worn shorts, her hands had turned blue.
Went into an ice cream parlour for some yummy ice cream
It was served piping hot and gave off clouds of steam
I fancied some cold soup and it was served up on a plate
And I used two left handed chopsticks, it tasted great.
Then my cell phone rang but the battery was flat
It was my wife who wanted me to buy her a cat
She said don't tell me which one, I want a surprise
But get one with four legs, a tail and green eyes.
Called to the pet shop and asked nicely for a pet
The man said sorry we've no live ones in yet
I've got two stuffed dead dogs or a puffa fish
If you don't want it as a pet it will make a tasty dish.
I got out my credit card and paid him with cash
He said don't handle the fish it will give you a rash
Me and my bro left the shop and went off on our way
I was so worn out, it had been an eventful day.
Written on 8th September 2021
For The Nonsense Rhyme Poetry Contest,
Sponsored By Charles Messini.
How would I have any idea what I think, if I couldn’t read my own poetry?
When I sit to write poetry, my mind transforms the blank screen into a flurry of words and then sometimes a story that I had never heard before emerges.
The Hippy era in the 60's was rife with poets, and songwriters and public speakers all voicing their thoughts, their feelings, their dreams and their protests, and I was one of them. Through the life of a married woman, poetry was practically a forgotten art. Oh I still loved reading it and had a huge collection of poetry books by the greats, but rarely ever wrote a poem.
Then came a thing called COPD. Forced into retirement at 63, and within four years I was spending most of my time in a wheelchair. Little or no voice left, could only walk about 10 steps without gasping for breath.
Recently I found SOUP. I tried my hand at poetry again. Its become an obsession. It wasn’t only the poetry, it was the companionship of like minded people who were willing to encourage and praise others. Not working creates a doubt of self worth. Writing poetry restores that feeling. You can create something pleasurable for others. It’s a confidence booster. it’s a big part of my life now. I cant participate in activities, but I can write poetry.
I can sit by a lake or jump from a plane or climb a mountain, all from the safety of my wheelchair. I can fill a sleepless night by creating or just chatting to a mate. It feels like I am still alive.
It was not my intention to ever post in PS again
but through an open window I've caught a glimpse
and smell of what's been dumped into the soup.
No pleasure to poets will cruel deception bring
through mendacious words with a venomous sting
Clumsy are the fingers thrusting a poisoned dart
Villany flows from the arteries of a wicked heart
What keeps one hidden in fear behind a mask
lurking in shadows whilst imbibing from a flask
It's a path encrusted with derision and pretense
One a fool walks when guilt becomes immense
What price for a soul that's died too many deaths
or a life once more restored with sinister breaths
How many graves dug when loose threads unravel
Move on before the judge wields his mighty gavel
Only the naive and gullible would dare to believe
such repugnant lines written and meant to deceive
A weed in a garden, secreted among stalks of wheat
soon to wither and wilt. Such is the fate of a cheat
Vinegar in ink from a pen's nib has been interlaced
Woe to a deplorable life when it has been disgraced
Jagged, the rusted edge honed by a dour personality
In darkness looms the lonely; a hallmark of depravity
Oh my sweetheart, charming and eloquent,
Honey pie, sugar plum, with sweet raisins,
So soft like cotton candy that just melts,
My apple pie with ice cream and cherry.
Sweet as glazed donuts filled with apricots,
Tasty sugar dumpling in lentil soup,
Delish as juicy mangoes freshly picked
My shaking jello mixed with nice yogurt.
Sweet lips like honey with a dripping comb,
Such chanting bedroom eyes enticing me,
Your crimson cheeks symbolizing fragrance
Warm passionate breath stimulates my soul.
Such grander is my honey suckle doll,
Her charm turns me into a marshmallow!
~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~
© Joseph, 9/4/08
© All Rights Reserved
~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~
Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine;
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.
~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh noo' It has happened again.! I thought we had escaped the continual scene:
forever falling down, and ya know what people actually celebrate it..?
and we'd thought we were safe here) a place where you had sympathetic support,
ITS NO GOOD..! that's what it isn't..' at last here was a chance at last to get time to
create our own poems, after being famous for all this time..' and we never had the chance
of creating our own stuff..' at least when we were killed off out there it was only by the
cretins..! now it has happened here, its a spiritual thing, sob.' boo-hoo, I saw the
shadow though..! it was a pale one..and we felt a vindictive force, and then our whole
new world shattered.' I wonder how would some like it? you have been being pushed about since
1643, whoever did it must be a cold hearted and lonely person..' I remember reading
reading some lines somewhere about just such a writer, hmm..' and now I'm a ghost and its
all down to someone..! Dumpty...that is who I am now..And down in the dumps BUT I AM MAD
MAD MAD and determined..! I can get revenge, I shall snoop in on any soup mail & nasty remarks
and so on; I can do that because I am a ghost now..! we had such a hard life early on at
the abbey farm there was ole aunt Patricia she was strict always minding our p's & q's
for us always saying we didn't do enough, then after Dad left us 'I was hard' but I never wanted
to be lost and nasty like she was, oh she was a stickler for 'rules' pashaaaw...! never
changed her life though did they...? hmmm, what to do next.? I don't know though if I
really should go down that road, it would be a contradiction of all I have tried to live, by
even through that nasty war, right up to now I suppose..' look! if I became like that I would
probably be going around with a horrible hot anger inside me, it would be like a big heavy
stone where my heart should be..! Oh you know what I mean.! and what would I do next.?
after I track them down.. after, I DESTROY THEM UTTERLY))) what then old egg? I
don't know what to do I feel as if I am being 'almost coerced ' here.. and I've heard
about the other place..' its hot they say, with a big black iron round thing..' I don't think
I would like it there, Oh if only Humpty and Dumpty could be here together again..'
I’ve not written to you for many years
Santa, I’m quite different from my peers
Not fancy or frilly like girly girls
And I don’t hanker for diamonds and pearls
Today I got the most terrible news
My muse abandoned me. She's on a cruise!!!
She’ll be sailing around the world for years
I'm bereft and can’t stem my salty tears
Oh Santa dear, please take pity on me
I need a skilled muse to write poetry
I’m heartbroken without her by my side
Could you bring one to me on this Yuletide
It would be the most perfect Christmas gift
Please tell me that this year I won't get stiffed!
~ ~ ~ ~
You may not have my name at this address
But Santa, it’s time for me to confess
I've been on your naughty list all this year
I'm the one who put Ex Lax in your beer
And I thought while you were stuck in my loo
I'd try to tempt you in my basque of blue
But you clutched your tummy. You looked quite sick
With loo roll in hand, you ran out so quick
You chastised me as you dribbled brown gloop
Said you’d seen my name at Poetry Soup!
You'd read my poems and you wouldn't be hard
With my dire style, I’m no threat to the Bard
Last Christmas was such a catastrophe
I apologise, will you forgive me?
~ ~ ~ ~
I’ve divulged to all how I’ve misbehaved
and beg the laxative mishap be waived
(You’ve not visited since I was a child
when my behaviour ran totally wild!)
I’ve taken my punishment on the chin
Bitter medicine swallowed for my sin
If you can find forgiveness in your heart
I will try my best to make a fresh start
Santa, please deliver just one present...
A new muse would make my life more pleasant
My old one left and she might not return
My pen is poised; for witty words I yearn
A contest win with Phillip Garcia
Would rekindle my poetic career!
From My Lips To Santa's Ears Contest
Sponsored by Phillip Garcia
10 syllables per line checked with How many Syllables
12-05-17
Now here's a definition of MACHO
I've never ever heard before
“Male Acting Childish, Hormonal, and Obnoxious”
When I read it, I started thinking of more
There's the ever popular ROTFLMAO
Everybody certainly knows this one
“Rolling On The Floor Laughing My Ass Off”
Used in emails to express some fun
ANFSCD is really a new one on me
“And Now For Something Completely Different”
Originally from a Monte Python skit
At times they were a wee bit irreverent
WYSIWYG is an acronym for
“What You See Is What You Get”
Makes a lot of sense, should be no confusion
But it can still make some people fret
Here's a good one, TNSTAAFL
“There's No Such Thing As A Free Lunch”
Once you realize that, you'll be better prepared
It'll help you a whole great big bunch
This here's a real cute one, SHIAPMP
“So Happy I Almost Peed My Pants”
Was thinking because I used the word 'pee'
Should have warned you guys in advance!
© Jack Ellison 2013
A vicious battle did ensue
Between the Knife, the Fork, and the Spoon
While each felt the job that they do
Was far more important than the other two
The Knife sliced the air with sharpened tongue
I'm the only one to get things done
Who do you turn to, to make the cut
When the plate you're served is way too tough
That's when the Spoon sang its tune
You two ever hear of a thing called soup
Can you please tell me what you would do
If they placed a bowl in front of you
Just then is when the Fork spoke up
Okay you two I've had enough
You know you need me just as much
And to prove him right he said let's do lunch
Coming together they had a great time
The Fork, the Spoon, even the Knife
After all they did they all did find
It's good to have friends to help you along in life
Little Miss Take would steal anything
She’d steal from a pauper, she’d steal from a King
Don’t show her a bell if it goes ding a ling
For when you’re not looking she’ll half inch its ring
Little Miss Take does not like to pay
She knows what she likes and she’ll whisk it away
She’d steal the moon as it slept in the day
She’s barred from the grotto, she nicked Santa’s sleigh
Little Miss Take if she needs to be fed
Will nab eggs and bacon and butter and bread
And getting it cooked won’t befuddle her head
She’ll just nick the camping stove out of your shed
‘Little Miss Take is my name,’ she once said
But she wasn’t named as a thief, but instead
’twas only a quick drunken fumble in bed
And her mum and her dad hadn’t planned to get wed
[If Adam Hargreaves would like to get his hands on
this material (or to sue me) I can be contacted through
Soup Mail... or any half way decent lawyer]