Short Museums Poems

Roaring! dinosaur
Extinction of dinosaurs
Fossiled museums...

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Dinosaurs
ancient history
seen in museums
wouldn’t be much fun
if alive...

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trails lead to places 
protected by God's Great Shield
for those seeking solace.......

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In the hearts many chambers
Stored away are museums
Cherished moments giving love...
Receiving amour...

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museums, to youth, sarcophagus
but aging folks can’t get enough
of perusing the junk
and making up bunk
about those good old days so tough...

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Been to rose-gardens
And the fairground too
Aquarium a few times
And to the zoo
Duck boats n mini golf
Science and art
Museums
Sausage with all 
The fixings
Its what’s given
To see the world
We’re in does 
Not exist...

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She likes flowers. She likes galleries and art.  She likes bookstores and museums, and walks in the park.  She’s enticingly odd, her countenance unflawed, I’m ooohed and I’m awed.  I gotta tell ya – she is one cool broad....

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Jane says that 
Old Dick is dead
Along with painting
And the guitar

That technology 
Has replaced them
And put them in storage, 
IN museums and on digital tapes

But that when 
The technology is down
She prays 
That Old Dick 
Will show up...

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A treasure trove of history contained in the walls
A collection of man's endeavors throughout life's squalls
Celebrating ancient battles
Throughout history's annals
A journey through man's evolution, through strife and wars...

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I visit museums when in Paris
One tourist had got a huge ‘arris’
It took her quite a while
To squeeze through a turnstile
A diet plan could dis-embarrass


Inspired by the Queen song

Been to Paris once - I doubt I would return

10/30/20/...

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Nothing, nothing is vain until the fog has lifted 
I have been brave, whom did you love? 
I left her standing next to the morning originality 
Adrift in the country in mild astonishment 
Chanel paintings, magazine oils, and museums  
Recognize mundane hellos 
The pen and the writer...

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It sloped like the hillock
Where I played as a boy
Then curved to a pillow
Of round contoured joy

It was poetry in motion
A rare joy to behold
A promise of mystery
And pleasures untold. 

But like art on the wall
Of the world's best museums
Best viewed from afar
The stuff of poetry and dreams...

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Not my original plan
Born, rural United States
Chicago, stayed seven years
Chicago, not my town kind

Drugs, street gangs, and violence
Also many good people,
Museums, State street, skyline

051520PSCtest, Finish Line In Seven
7 lines, 7 syllables per line. Free verse
Sponsored by: Nette Onclaud
Theme choice #1, City Life...

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Courtney 
Daughter, mother, wife, poet 
Daughter of Brenda Horne, Teresa Fowler, Steve Horne, William Stakelin, Ronald Biles
Lover of psychology, classic movies and poetry
Who feels grateful, scared and depressed  
Who fears bugs, social situations and death 
Who would like to see Laura Ingalls Wilder museums, Paris and Japan
Who resides in Orlando, Florida 
Dyer...

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Get a map and plot a course;
Do what fits with no remorse.
Let the locals be your guide
But if it's not for you, don't bide.

See museums, check out stores;
Walk until your feet have sores.
Stop off for a bite or drink -
It'll perk you up, I think.

Buy some trinkets for your kin;
Treat yourself - it's not a sin
'Cause when vacation's at its end,
Reality's around the bend....

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I've been to Paris, been to Rome
   To many places far from home
Been to London and Madrid
   On the move since I was a kid

Architecture there's amazing
   Shops and restaurants too
The museums and the waterways
   I could live there all my days

I suppose they have the same things
   In New York and L.A. too
What's special about Europe
   Is that for me it's all brand-new...

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On a little vacation
Where you’ve never been,
Just Google the town
To know where to begin.

A list of museums
Or gardens or zoos
Will give you the info
You’re likely to use.

Take a peek at a map
And chart out a cool course.
Read others’ reviews 
So you won’t feel remorse.

Then set out to explore.
If the weather gods smile,
You can take extra time
And relax for a while....

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We are all collectors;
storing images and sounds
as museums their acquisitions,
and conductors, their array
of scintillating voices….

Some we obtain for profit
and some to simply enjoy--
a lovely face with charming
grace--a lyrical smile
with eyes that beguile--
the roaring wind
stripping trees and 
flattening fields—amazing
how many worlds a heart can
hold--or vanquish in an instant
of rage....

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When the rain’s coming down
And the sky’s looking gray,
Then inside of my home
Is where I want to stay.

There are chores I can do
Or museums to see,
But all snug in my space
Is contentment to me.

Though I did take my walk
And I’m dressed to go out,
Just relaxing indoors
Is what I’m all about.

Since the weatherman says
That tomorrow will clear,
For today I’ll indulge
By remaining right here....

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Jack 
Mind like  a steel trap, woodsman, skiier, lover of books
Brother of Vic
Lover of wild storms, dawn swims  and justice
Who feels sadness at disappearing natural beauty and beloved parents now deceased
Who fears computerized worlds, families crumbling and indifferent neighbors
Who would like to see museums that delight children, more blue birds and flourishing gardens
Resident of Minnesota piney woods
Anderson...

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In life before, we did each chore
Before we headed out the door
Or in-between what was routine,
We’d clean or check our iPhone screen.

The major stuff, which was enough
To sometimes make us huff and puff,
Took up our days, with shops, cafés,
Museums, plays and hotel stays.

But by default, we’ve had to halt
What we exalt and somersault
Into a space where we’ve replaced
What we embraced. Ah, what a waste!...

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Sunlight pours through
my window
    It's time for
the show to begin!
Trucks, cars, people
        The   
        City 
        Awakens
  Now we'll taste joy
In the knowledge that we're 
part of the Metropolitan machine
 We'll finish putting up buildings, churches,synagogues, parks 
and museums and the
       the beat-beat-beat of the asphalt homeland
begins to pound
          Such,such are the urban joys...

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Sunlight pours through 
my window 
   It's time for 
the show to begin
Trucks, cars, pedestrians
            The 
            city 
            awakens
Now we'll taste joy 
In the knowledge that we're 
part of the metropolitan machine
We'll finish putting up buildings, churches, synagogues, parks
and museums as the beat - beat - beat- of the asphalt homeland 
begins to pound out ists music
  Such, such are the urban joys...

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Black and blue, red and green.
Pretty birds.
Lovely birds.
Soar and dive and preen on the scene.
Red and gray.
They play
On black and blue skies of somewhere.
Pretty birds.
Birds in air.
Past museums and statues in the park.
Modern birds.
Gilded birds.
Beauty even leaves a mark in the dark.
Violet birds.
Yellow birds.
Like so many flowers in the sky.
Colorful blooms.
Soar and fall.
As pretty birds go by skyscrapers high....

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29.05.2008

I refuse to be called a remainder
Back from a world that never was.
I despise the cold noble museums
And perfectly locked iron doors.

For the sake of the One who I doubt
Ever took any interest in me - 
Those perfectly locked iron doors
Put us all back in captivity!

You persuade me to stay and to trust
That your only goal is memory,

But if you want living remembrance
Open that door 
And please -
Set me free....

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