What an unfree newspaper writes
According to a leading English newspaper
the alarm is the upcoming election
will labor be back in power
like that would be different from now
England (not Britain) is meddling in the war
in Ukraine, which is not of her concern
England, which had once been a colonial power
has a long tradition in military tradition
going to war against the reluctant masses
this since the cousin of Queen Victoria's cousin
was shot by the communists
and therefore crossing the red line
which is historical
England is a small, but the Nobel classes are a baggage
of arrogance, they won, we are told about
one the last war.
No, that England is a second-rate military
might they not help but think they are relevant
Great English writers were at odds
with the upper classes hanging on to violence
but habits die hard
the noble call to arms by the noble
represented by a dusty kingdom is still
there, it is a call that can't
be resisted, we are still a great nation
not for us to be Holland
A sinewy faith built rough cabins.
We were pleased to claim this land
for Jesus.
We raised cities that were bear free.
Everything soared;
later crime and meth rose even
higher.
Cracks appeared where a garish paint
had weathered the sky.
Plaster flamingos crumbled,
angelic limbs hung down
caught in ceiling fissures.
Pink plastic arrows littered concrete.
It was a Mall dream; it was our dream.
We began to order stuff
from worker ants in other countries.
Plaid went in and out of fashion,
Horseless cowboys kept up the long tradition
of truck wrangling.
Impedimenta impeded the improperly taught.
Log cabins transported themselves
to theme parks,
too little hope clogged casinos floors,
rage stalked the freeways.
God spoke to us,
urged us to fill storage units
with our long raked-over crap,
sad holy relics in duct taped boxes -
yet neatly piled
in a persnickety Midwest way.
Thanksgiving Day has always been a special holiday
A long tradition celebrated with family in a joyful way
In my younger years we went to my grandparent’s house
When I was young and single and later on with my spouse
Grampa Joe would make homemade coleslaw and pickles
And then played cribbage games with my cousins for nickels
Mema’s home was decorated early with wonderful Christmas cheer
Every wall with reds and greens and a collection of Santa’s everywhere
Decades passed, my Mema became a widow, then moved and lived alone
It was now my turn to cook our traditional meal at my early decorated home
Turkey, stuffing, harvard beets, stuffed celery, deviled eggs and the fixings too
Now a new Thanksgiving tradition, I hoped for many years, but only just a few
We lost Mema a few years ago, Thanksgiving now feels different, so bittersweet
We spent last Thanksgiving home alone with some traditional fixings and treats
We hope to still spend Thanksgiving days with my Dad and our family together
I will cherish my years of Thanksgiving Memories, they are in my heart forever
10/28/19
Contest: Thanksgiving Memory Contest
Sponsor: Regina Riddle
Freedom Ship
There is a ship floating in the harbor
It has a long history behind it
Hauling hundreds of starving people
Men, women and children
Loaded in the ship’s belly
Fleeing from torture and death
They cried and mourned for those left behind
Thinking about how their loved ones must live
But this ship had a long tradition
When they brought its passengers to land
The Captain would turn on every light
To let freedom know those people were coming
And to give everyone the hope they never knew
And that hope grew as they stepped onto land
That special would not wait
It left again immediately, with its lights out
Looking for more people who need to be saved
MASKED BALL – THE SURPRISE
The final sweet phrase has sounded
Our dancers await by twos
All still in mask, impatient
To hear their sovereign’s news
Queen Adaelade, Ball Chancellor
Has watched the evening through
Her task, by long tradition bound
Select the reigning two
Her selection goes a wandering
But, at last, in regal voice
She points the Lady Persephony
And her lordly patrician choice
The pair, to wild acclaim, unmask
Selection, (all along) contrivance knows
Will be the Lady Persephony
And her *Cavalier of the Rose
*I couldn’t resist the last line’s reference to Richard Strauss’ Opera
Der Rosenkavalier.
There’s a long tradition of cowboys and their pals,
Watchin’ buckin’ broncos settin’ on wood corrals.
It’s something they enjoys and sure ‘nuff don’t avoids—
But, dern that wood is hard on their ol’ hemorrhoids!
Feels like they’s sittin’ on a brandin’ iron that’s hot—
It’s an awful feelin’ that ain’t too soon forgot.
And ridin’ saddles ain’t much better I allows—
But leastways there’s more paddin’ than them wood corrals!
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.