Carnival Nights Poetry Contest
Robert James Liguori
There was a special carnival set in my memory
Rides, games, and food, cherished, and a prelude to our first kiss
And a second date where we watched Rambo: First Blood
But on that night, he held me in his arms dearly and lifted my spirits
Where the moon and stars looked down and smiled at us
And I remember passing a cow with big brown eyes
She proudly wore a blue ribbon garland around her neck
And as we exchanged glances, my eyes peered at my blue ribbon
He was standing right next to me, as the cow seemingly knew
As we closed the first chapter, the sights and sounds sing in my heart
Circus clowns, cotton candy lady, acrobats, and little kids playing
But it was my man, future husband, that my eyes were really on
Those blue jeans, long-sleeved white dress shirt, cowboy hat, paint that night
A true gentleman, he was, he handed a prize teddy bear to a little kid
Where the little girl clutched the brown furry one happily and beamed at mom
These montages are now old but forever golden beam the big top of my heart
I always remember those words, "ma'am, do you want to go on another ride?"
It’s fun to watch Awards shows,
Though they’re shallow and they’re trite –
Stars all gathering together
For an ego-boosting night.
Yet the SAG Awards montages
Showing actors at their start
Captured images of younger days
That set the show apart.
From childhood roles and little parts
In soaps or SVU,
We got to see performers
When their jobs were spanking new.
The lucky ones who have careers
Which grow, improve and last
Might be mortified or tickled by
These glimpses of the past.
This or That, Vol 30 Poetry Contest
Edward Ibeh
As soon as my eyes cleared from the tears
I could see that his body and soul were long gone
He layed frozen in time
Lifeless, naked and sorry
Where the songbirds in his eyes
Lost forever in the morning storm
Still the sun peaked thru our bedroom
It's long rays covering the bed
Comforting, consoling and calling
And lending its hand in my time of need
In the background I could hear and feel the doom
As the ominous sound of the ambulance closed in
Only to confirm what I already knew
Where this validation tore at my heart
And this punctuation and pronouncement
Bringing a flood of unstoppable tears
For this was real
And a defining moment and turn in my life
From that point on
My mind was etched in tears
Where the montages of my husband's death played on
To his past voice whispering and echoing in my head
"Honey I had to leave on the night of a full moon"
It resonated, etching it's way in large block letters
For the mourning, and that morning never ended
I kept his secret seventeen years later
... now in the depths of a grieving heart
And in my eyes, where the black ravens keep multiplying
They don’t care,
if your monthly car, mortgage, utility bills,
credit card payments, a loan you’re paying back
your father inlaw has always been on time,
or if.
You didn’t see the no parking or stop sign.
Can’t afford a cap on your cracked front tooth,
so it doesn’t have to be extracted, or that.
You’re sending your child to a private school,
cause of a hearing problem born with.
They don’t care.
You're driving an eighteen-year-old car, or that.
It just about turned over this morning, or the toilet
backed up, you water heater’s has a slow leak, and
is gonna need to be replaced soon, before it bursts
and floods the basement.
They don’t care.
That person riding the same bus as you each morning,
working next to you ten years on the job,
sitting in the dentist’s waiting their turn to be tortured.
The policeman that pulled you over.
The bank that holds your montages.
The utility company that, thanks you each month,
on your bill, for being a prompt paying customer.
The purser at your child’s school.
They don’t care, they just don’t care!
ILLUSIONS
the largely
forgotten
chaos
of moving
creativity
proclaimed
the sporadic
in
a series
an innocuous
free spirit
voiced
lively
with vitality
in
intuitive
concepts
icons
of essence
in a
fantasy fusion
dream
symbol
self absorption
in
shadow shaped
modish moods
intercut
montages
with
repeated
glimpses
irrepressible
& ageless
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
collections show facets to me
assorted pieces hail history
recollections kept deep inside
where irrational follies hide
motley montages, memories
my collections, things that please
miscellaneous, sorts of stuff
put on shelves to gather dust
various items mingle mixed up
me, I drink from a colorful cup
assortments, sterling junk
filling my titanic trunk
sundry items I stow away
reminisce a bygone day
distinct diverse similarly same
trophies of an ill-played game
complimentary, thank the house
many swiped by an itinerant louse
gratis free without charge
relics befitting an Egyptian barge
diverse predictable mixes
homogenized random pickup sticks
similar in dissimilar ways
homage only an owner pays
collected eclectic on different days
rewards for a divergent gaze
beauty beheld in many possessions
mirrored reflections, oblique obsessions
Lickety Split
Life is a vessel
Inside my mind
Creeping along
Knowingly
Elan is over when the sails topple
The wind ceases
Youth, and lulls old age
Such is the ascent and descent
Pressing on now in quick montages
Life in its infancy to ending
In a blink of prized tuna and weathered sails
This vessel sailed by much too fast
connie pachecho
4/10/18
The Daze of a Bitter Heart
dare you blow away
fluttering your dear eyes at me
i threw my heart and missed
life's a journey through each breath
though i tried to be sweet
dough rises for the baker's doe
I now know
the answer was sublime, no
I see, and read
a sea of red
a few roses on one side
some rows of make believe on the other
roles we dared onto each other
rolls of veil montages now quickly diminishing
vales of doom deepening, sadly
how?
did you hear me howl?
or know that I waited
with the weights of doom overbearing
my dear,
my dear,
my little deer, my aim was innate but not off
though my exodus oft
by you
by Yules
by your directed Yules of no's you sang in my passing
you do know I've grown among the groans?
yet i cry to my loo, often and quietly
in lieu of being your burden I should leave
like the rest of the seasonal leaves
that sink
oh how wish I was in sync with you
i do not bow ... my dear one
for i see that your doe has won
connie pachecho
10/6/17
We are merely montages, a mélange of endless stardust - -
Finessing poetry 'round melodic sentiments,
nuances manifested 'neath fractured mosaics of entities'
indwelling harmoniousness amidst surrendered
yesteryear's spellbinding prospective endeavors,
we are but astral whispers on winds of prismatic illusions
upon transcendence midway fractals' furthermost macrocosms
A twirl in a whirl or a curl is neither a six foot pie or a girl. Spinning wire into gold is not wise. And dancing is best performed to giant octaves. Tissue boxed coverage can be very flakey. Flammable even. So don't blow noses in a bush measuring over an acre. Oh look out. Ten inch forks are wobbling over there. Discussing no blade in a shaded glen. Sweating in a pyjama top in a blacked out car on a moonlit drive. How quite romantic. When dancing with a twig do not attempt star jumps for you might fall over and this would make the thistle bush laugh. Radius of radishes are always hidden in the clouds. A sure beacon for a golden god. Lavish lollipops licking lakes. And the might of the cast iron toothbrush is often resembling a small pin. Paint that then smile. Haha and haha then no hahaha but a haha. Pontifical power points playing pleasing piano. Xxxxx montages mooing. Xxxxx adudicational z with a huge p y q. Z
Leaf shadows
Manically dancing
Mincing moonlight
Into myriad motes…
Montages of mystery
Upon which
Reality floats..
Leaf shadows dancing
Withdrawing…
Advancing…
Rivulets retreating
Neath prows
Of night’s boats
Swiftly sketched…
and as swiftly erased
By leaves and limbs
Leaving no trace…
The artistic trees
One would suppose
Have only need
Of light and shadows
Palette imbued only
With black and white…
Colors of lonely
Hints of light
Leaf shadows capering,
carelessly, capriciously
Cast upon canvas
…Of moonlit night…
New beginnings seep, twilight
etches skylines chilled..
Receding montages fade
into blue distilled
licked by comet's tails
caressed by the milky way,
a balm for what ails
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Contest:WONDER OF DUSK IN SEGUIDILLA
10/1/2012
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.