Long Toulouse Poems
Long Toulouse Poems. Below are the most popular long Toulouse by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Toulouse poems by poem length and keyword.
Now I really have no concerns
if you think I may be nuts
If I finally owned a business
I would call it Rough as Guts
I'm happy with my own standards
someone else's perfection it's not my go
For years a fear to experiment
when self esteem was low
Confidence on the rise since mid thirties
as an owner builder several houses I have built
There maybe a wall or two that leans a little bit
So What! The Leaning Tower of Pisa I have no self guilt
Playing musical instruments started in mid fifties
eight in all I finally learnt to play a joyous journey had begun
When I play guitar and sing I may fluff a chord or two
So What ! Audience and me together are having lots of fun
Just recently began some illustrations for my poems
as an extra to provide some humorous cheer
I'm certainly no Picasso, Van Gogh or Toulouse Lautrec
So What !My drawings make some people laugh and I've not cut off an ear
We all have so much untapped talent
because of fear we often never try
Me. I'll keep on seeking mind expansion
until the day I finally die
Color'in books AND crayO.La looks
with a smile wondering while she
might be craZy or knot.ting a note
hear it ring from a ;ping! and a ling
a long song sing.ing over and over.
Again.
What's the color of my pen?
mmmm...
violettes de toulouse.
Sugar ;)
The flowers, leaves and roots of various Viola species are used for medicinal purposes,
being rich in vitamins A and C. They also contain a type of antioxidant called an
anthocyanin. Viola flowers are also used to make an herbal tea that is used in Chinese
herbal medicine...
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Violet_(plant)
purrr pple... be sweet and be well.
Form:
It took fifty-seven paces to the end of the track
But for some strange reason, only fifty-six back.
I tried it again, for something to do
While constantly phoning for breakdown rescue.
The ants were enormous, the grasshoppers blue
Inside of their wings only showed when they flew.
Thistles and lavender, cornflowers too,
But mostly just tarmac, a magnificent view.
Of the village below, a distant haze
Whilst here on the hill, we’ve been waiting for days.
Well that’s how it seems here in the heat,
A broken down car, my life at my feet;
Two tents and three cases
A bag full of shoes,
Four roll mats, gas cooker
And a map of Toulouse.
Wet suits and sun hats
A blow-up canoe,
Cool box and sun cream
A deck chair or two.
There are pillows for night time
A towel for the beach,
Two picnic rugs
And a goodie bag each.
“You can take what you like,
if it fits in the boot”
I spy a small gap
And fill it with loot.
The back seat is clear
Tunnel’s booked for tonight
We’re off and our hols
And we’re travelling light.
Translated from the Slovakian
I enlisted with the god of second chances
Knowing my chances were second to none.
I surrendered my soul and my passport
When I entered my new life’s routine
In service to the colors of France.
I’d pledged my honor and fidelity,
Or whatever romantic sh*te was required,
When I’d earned my coveted ticket
For the train ride from Marseilles to Toulouse.
A sheep that's learned to fill itself on meat.
The training was tough, but the treatment humane.
Not like the nonsense portrayed in the movies.
But I was prepared to march or die
On the day I was given my name,
Vojak Bojovnik, Légion étrangère.
THIS SPACE RESERVED FOR
DIEN BIEN PHU
We humans like all creatures to have a purpose, an aim,
From one-celled amoebas to fungi-spore glebas,
They need a good reason to compete in life's game.
Consider cats: They school us in hygiene
Licking their paws and their fur shiny clean.
And how 'bout tiny ants, who teach us industry,
Or lions and their bravery--and foxes with their knavery?
But what reason have seahorses to be in the sea?
What can they teach us? How can they enlighten you or me?
Can they sing or dance? Can they 'cut a rug' in the water?
And if they can't, do you really think they should ought to?
Well, please know that things aren't quite what they seem.
Seahorses are special, unique, and highly esteemed;
In the eye of the sea, they're jewels, all sparkle and gleam.
See the distinctive manner wherewith these fish swim:
Upright! propelling themselves ever higher via dorsal fins.
Then there's the spectacle of seahorse sex and mating--
No other males on the planet hold the eggs while waiting
To release them of a sudden by the thousands at a time,
And then go back at it with their 'exes' on the turn of a dime.
All this leads up to how traditional Chinese physicians
Prescribe 'seahorses' for whatever their patients get sick in:
Everything from wheezing and pain to inducing labor,
With TCM's** practitioners, these fish are ever in favor.
It's clear, my fellow humans,
From Peking to Paris and on to Toulouse,
Seahorses can certainly be put to very good use...
*****
...Prompting this little 'caboose:'
Let US ask this question: Is human activity equally productive?
---Or do WE choose to engage in things far more destructive?
April 19, 2018
**TCM = Traditional Chinese Medicine
22
to all the presidents, of clubs
Or companies,
to all the principals of technological high school,
to all the market cashiers,
Who want to make you disappear,
to all the news journalists
Who speak without loving us,
to all the champions, the Olympic medalists,
to all javelin throwers,
to all university professors,
Doctors in law, in nuclear physics,
to all grain producers,
To the chocolate masters,
To the cabaret dancers,
to all pizza eaters,
To Brest, to Toulouse,
to all window cleaners,
To the excellent comedians, Debbouze, or Gad Elmaleh,
to all the conductors,
To the dentists who perform,
to all the Sioux chiefs, or Apaches
to all medical researchers,
In their laboratories,
to all the Nobel Prize winners,
From literature or chemistry,
to all jazz musicians,
to all talented artists,
To opera singers, to blues ones too,,
to all the cultured Parisians,
To the abandoned drag queens,
to all the indiscreet pastry chefs,
To sleeping grandfathers,
To the fish merchants, the hunters,
to all the poets of France,
To the deployed cartomancers,
to all students and high school students,
to you, who read this incongruous list,
finally this poem is ending, you might say,
Yes, the world will continue without you,
Think about it more often.
Just a big overgrown kid, my Bruce
Wanting to hit the road and vamoose
Dreams of conducting a caboose
Go all the way up to Toulouse
Bruce refuses to grow up, what’s the use
He can rhyme off one of many old excuse
And sometimes swears to All and to Zeus
Bruce wasn’t always this way, something came loose
He’s become simple yet ever so abstruse
Can’t differentiate a moose from a goose
Doesn’t have a clue what to do with his papoose
The best we could do was come to a truce
Now they both get an afternoon nap after their juice
Sometimes I feel like a recluse
But never a victim of abuse
Or that life dealt me a deuce
When Bruce smiles he can still seduce
AP: Honorable Mention 2020