Short Troubadours Poems

There once was a super good rapper
He wasn’t so good as a mapper
He got lost in the woods
It wasn’t so goods
He had to become a capper...

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an echo in repeat
changing meaning to rhyme
with homonym or slant
a poetic devise
Greek in its origin
meant to be read out loud
troubadours preferred song


Written 10/21/2020...

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a toast to those who wove the tunes
that so inspired in many ways
in tapestries of harmony
of marmalade and purple haze
as our cheers rang often,loud and long
our flames leapt up in highest praise
for the music of the troubadours...
ah yes,those were the days!...

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Comfy cozy from my view
If I could I'd cuddle you
Troubadours have soft hearts too
They love their bluebirds, yes they do

Red guitars can play romance
Even though they cannot dance
They know just where to go in France 
Nothing happens ever by chance

Rose buds and vanilla base
Together perfect in Embrace
So feminine, a fragrant trace 
On you it's found it's rightful place...

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Down through the corridors of time
My gallery with varied halls
Halls of emotions that chime
Reverberating bouncing call

Youthful emotions really pine
Feelings of angst rules this time
Corridors of life _dark or shine
Hope mine shines with rhyme

Troubadours of soul in evening
Lover of life all this long time
Doors of heaven opened gifting
The sage that was hiddened within...

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Let me tell you about this girl, 
this girl from Luxembourg who live in the middle of nowhere.
Hair in a bun, golden blonde.
Her smile shines that light up her eyes.
Gentle strong healing hands, you'd wish you're a dog, a cat or a cadaver in a medical lab just to feel her touch.
The troubadours would fall on their knees for this indescribable beauty.
And those who can't read knows she is a poetry....

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Lyric poets, lovers of fine rhyme;
balladeers who weave with lines a tale;
satirists and bards of the sublime,
and troubadours who sing a light rondel.
Will my muse appear to me and show it?
That place I long to be, where they all dwell. . . 
and I'm with them because I am a poet.

(LInda-Marie, I know how you love doing spur of the moment stuff. haha. You are IT. You 
have to end your poem with those words, "I am a poet.")...

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The eye wanders, warily, unfocused
Troubadours, lost, seeking poetic pen
Magical wand finding no hocus pocus
Minstrel, languishing, no verses to lend
Barbs squandered, set aside as precocious
Tragic? …No common, now take a new spin 
Through the mist of appreciated rhymes
Poetic stanzas now dare to cross lines
 
© Debra Squyres ( 8-20-14)


Written for:  Nette’s “Through the Mist” members contest
Using the form “ottava rima” for the first time....

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Teasing and loving ladies near and far
Robust are they, their mead in a jar
Over the hills their words ring out loud
Under the trees they sing tall and proud
Boasting of great adventures from their sorted past
Among the village folk, a crowd gathers fast
Dance, drink and be merry they hum
One plays the panpipes, the other the drum
Up hands clap in a mighty roar
Rise now and cheer, 'tis time to roast the boar!
Sing with us village folk, into the dawn we will soar!...

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