She holds the book
like it’s a living thing~
a small, breathing lantern of thought
opening in her hands.
Letters rise from the page,
blue-bright and weightless,
as though the story has decided
it can no longer be contained.
They drift upward,
carrying pieces of her~
curiosity, memory,
the quiet ache of what she’s lived
and what she longs to understand.
In their ascent
she feels something shift:
the way destiny sometimes arrives
not as a path
but as a sentence
finally breaking free.
And for a moment
she is both reader and written,
the book and the becoming~
watching her own story
lift into the air
to show her what it means.
With shimmering wings and
a wand of bright gold,
A beautiful fairy tale waits to
unfold.
She sprinkles her dust as she
tells of a brave knight,
Then tucks you in cozy and
turns down the light.
Goodnight, little dreamers,
sleep tight until dawn.
In a story book, I got stuck
and couldn’t find a way to break free.
What a lousy day, just my luck!
Wondered why this happened to ME!
I looked for little Alice, she
wouldn't show me her window – dumbstruck!
Jack Horner, he could not believe
in a story book, I got stuck.
I looked all around and snuck
a brief word with the fairies three.
They tried to raise a pumpkin truck
and couldn’t find a way to break free.
With all my might and self-esprit
I began to huff, puff, and cluck.
What could I do stuck on page three?
What a lousy day, just my luck!
What a mess was this stinking muck.
Aha! I’d find Humpty Dumpty!
He was cracked, but not a schmuck.
Wondered why this happened to ME!
Humpty cheered when hearing my plea
He was looking to gain a buck.
No wallet, we two couldn’t agree,
so I am still running amuck
in a story book.
Has many looks
You may not see all beauty shown
That God leaves there on its own
Coincidence
Is an excuse of distance
The truth must be said
For it echoes within your head
Time our world did see
What gift the Lord Jesus offered thee
More precious as days of old
For you have many of us foretold
Time to rise
No longer disguise
What we see before our eyes
Had been truth hidden among the lies
The heart is the only one to see
You have that within thee
This is the only way to set this heart free
Is to have Jesus live within thee
Give thanks to God
He spreads abroad
Capture all hearts
To unwrapped its best part
What is more precious than a heart that feels
The world has false revealed
Now kneel
God love has always been real
I know you feel
I wrap and offer him this gift
On which he did wish
If your life is a story what will be your titled page?
Will it be just a kindle format or a hardback
I wonder what the pages would spell like
May be of mystery, misery, love, hate, shelter or war
Will there be children crying on the front headlines;
Riots .Or will there be flowers planted on the front
pages to tell how beautiful your emotion is, may be
berries .will it be a blue berry or red berry .Or a rose
flower. Will the pages speak for themselves.
If your life was a book what will you name it?
Will it be a novel or a novela, a play or poem
An essay or a memoir written
Will it be in rhymes, a sonnet, an epic or just free verses
I wonder if it will be a photocopy of another man's pages
Will the chapters spell love or hatred , well spent or regret
Who will be in your acknowledgement?, and
dedicated to who?
Will you be the hero or villain, the Jack or Rose ,
the Romeo or Juliet
Achilles, Hector, Paris, or Helen of Troy
If your life was a book what will you name it
What would the world read of it?
Please Tell!!!
By Gideon Idudje
~ A Storybook Princess ~
She dreams of princes, princesses and balls
A little girl on tippy-toes, not a meter tall
O, the frilly lace gowns she fashions
Stitched with threads of heartfelt passion
A little girl in dreamland enthralled
Daylight's full of pain, tests and probes
From her lower spine to her temporal lobe
Hair shorn, she bears it all with infinite patience
As they wheel her from station to station
For at night she's a storybook princess
No matter that in daylight she winces
Asleep, her bed's her castle, wedding-bell topped
Where dreams last forever, never stop
Entered in 'All Yours (Feb. '21) Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Faerie Tales
Fantastical
Starts once upon a time…
Princesses, dark villains
Grimm’s Brothers, and Hans Christian Andersen
Gingerbread house and a witch
Such magical creatures
The end closing
Faerie tales
Hold me close, hold me tight,
don’t let me fall asleep tonight.
Whisper songs into my ear,
they will make the stories dissapear
I want to see the world behind our eyes,
and travel far behind the skies.
Take my hand and follow my lead,
Together we will succeed.
The prince and princess met and fell in love,
A beautiful extravagant wedding guested.
She wore an exquisite gown of lace,
He wore a handsome uniform.
They were married in a cathedral,
With many honorable guests.,relatives and friends.
They rode in an elegant royal carriage,
Driven by noble horses and great steeds.
Like a fairy tale romance come true
We are looking for the fairy godmother with the wand.
The guests dressed very fashionably,
With elegant hats and fascinators.
A royal carriage took them back to the palace,
Accompanied by the queen's royal guard.
A storybook wedding come true.
How romantic and lovely is that.
Author:Gwen von Erlach Schutz
Silently falls the snow,
Covering the streets and houses,
A snowman sits in yonder meadow,
Gazing out at the pedestrians,
Walking by, dressed in their winter wear,
The houses are touched with snow,
A winter's delight,
I like to stay at home and look at the snow,
Through my window,
Like a Christmas card.
The skiiers love this weather,
Dressed in their winter wear,
Like a winter paradise,
Blessed by God.
Author: Gwen von Erlach Schutz
A nook in the corner, off to the right..
A haven, housing a hundred homes.
To there, where wakened dreams do hide,
My wandering mind so often roams.
We read to know we’re not alone.
I’m grateful that I've found this nook -
A home, where wakened dreams do hide.
There is no friend as true as a book.
A book falls open and I fall in,
Deaf to the planet’s mundane din.
Disturb me not, you kith and kin -
I'm off to my homeland, off on a spin.
They’re rungs on a ladder. Every page
a foothold, on to which we scale
to reach the highest point, from where
we see the beauty of the tale.
From there, the top of my noiseless world,
I’m safe and sound - no guns or knives
Can face the power of stabbing words..
A reader lives a thousand lives.
Every morning I rise grateful to be alive
and in my movements from sleep to waking
each step is blessed by the newest day God might provide,
and I embrace another chance, never oblivious of it's making.
With coffee in hand, I wander through the garden
grateful of each presented wonder
and I slip into the crevices unhardened
to a comfy rocking chair hidden beneath the holly it's under.
There safely wrapped in nature and its innocence
I take in the sun and breathe in fresh clean air
offering my silent prayer and open penitence
then flip the pages of the bible for guidance found there.
This little hollow is my refuge, my very own private nook
of where I find hope and peace and solitude
grateful for life and words of this inspired revered book
that guides my life, my actions and my very attitude.
This is the best of all places I can be
within my secluded safe protected nook
wherein I spend my mornings joyous and free
and for nothing more gifted do I look.
/
4/30/2016
A Nook and a Storybook
His leg was broke and his pride hurt
As he began to read.
That knucklehead he called his hoss
Had stumbled at full speed.
"Read a good book", the doc had said,
"The healin' takes awhile.
Just make a nest in that bunkhouse,
Pretend you're still a child."
He read of a man like himself -
A cowboy with a call.
The Virginian was the title,
That didn't say it all.
The hero shaped the West back when
The boundaries weren't so clear.
A man, a hoss, and a forty five,
An' danger always near.
Loves were found and painfully lost
While tempers roared aloud.
He found himself on every page,
An' he was cowboy proud.
He lived his life just punchin' cows,
An' wrote out his own tales.
He hoped that they'd be read someday -
After the cowboy pales.
April 28, 2016
While resting in my nook, breaths grip
As lampshade marks edges of leaves;
That I wander into the scene
On pages afloat, a tale weaves .
Listening to my restless sighs,
The hero wins a maiden fair
Under the rim of jeweled clouds…
Yet one dark villain lurks, beware!
Though moonlight hides its varnished face
My eyes pursue this raging quest;
And though caught in flamed paradise
Late hour ushers a sleep’s request .
Tucking the book, whispers I hear
Unto rivers of my vivid dream,
Awaiting for morn to touch its ray
To finish lines from a tale, supreme.
Brian's Select 2
I would give anything for a nook and storybook,
Since books take you into an exciting new world!
Maybe you can pretend that you are a famous cook
Or you find a necklace that is perfectly pearled.
You might possibly be a cave explorer,
Or a fairy with magical powers.
You might be a soccer goal scorer,
or an ordinary talking flower.
For all one knows, you could be anything
if you have an imaginative mind.
Just step into that fairy ring of words,
and give your mind a good hard grind!
Sub Categories
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.