A Newspaper
Once upon a time, the Guardian was a famous newspaper
it was democratic, to a certain extent, and readers are
invited to give their view, but with moderation and niceness
If not, they would politely ban the regressor
When the paper was famous, it was a bit left-wing, but always ready to see the other point of view
It was pro-Israel, defending Palestinian artists' rights
while overlooking as long as possible, the utter brutality
of Israeli politics against, say, Palestinians
The fact that the Guardian has been able to change is its
ability to alter its stands, yet holding to their journalistic
who are not left-wing, except for some of them who
Thanks to nature and time, they have wings.
Today, the Guardian is no longer a newspaper; it is more
like a color magazine dedicated to true sex stories shies
not away from lesbianism and what we now call gayness
It caters to a younger middle class, employed in, I think
show business, or the media, with titles like TV analyst
Or a researcher of AI, who will one day make all of them
out of work
When I get up in the morning, I drink a cup of coffee and
For entertainment, read the Guardian
Remember this poets, drink wine,
It is not talent that is important,
It is to have heart, drink wine,
Offer a drink to a friend or student
Make your friends, young and new, cry
Speaking of the primroses you offer,
Speaking of the water lilies in a famous museum,
Tearing all your uncertain poems,
See, this poem has little interest, let’s drink wine instead,
It is made of banalities without emotions, jewels thrown,
What I forgot when I wrote is to address you,
To have heart, to tell you of my loves,
Remember this poets, drink wine, admire your mother
Those who speak to you, hold you captive,
It takes a great silence virgin, the friendship of Mark Aurel
That the soul may walk in the snow,
Alone. Come with me. Come with me.
Drink wine. *
* with moderation and humour
My journey is one of balance and harmony,
I am a water metaphor that adapts its shape;
always flowing, yielding, softly and quietly,
but strong enough to cut into rock and reshape.
I chose a way to nature and contemplation,
to create my inner sanctuary;
an open gate, a secret garden creation,
a place where all turmoil I can bury.
I am on my own unique beautiful journey,
where I can let go of time and slow down;
with moderation in all things and no need to hurry;
and be independent as a star shining alone.
____________________
September 23, 2022
Poetry/Quatrain/My Journey
Copyright Protected, ID 09-1489-966-23
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Brian Strand Premiere Choice
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 09/25/2022
Sixth Place
It's worth being afraid ...
It is not worth being silly.
What is written,
only worths when
it's understood ...
Be brave, only in advantage ...
In disadvantage, it is a loss
Certainly...
Fear with moderation,
it's smarter
than courage without measure ...
If we recognized our mistakes,
we would certainly be happier
and less stupid ...!
MOTHER
Never Drank Gin in the Morning
My Mother… never drank!
“Cotton Gin” came to her mind,
when she heard the word Gin.
In stores…Gin never find.
I too, just like Mother
my strongest drink iced tea.
When stronger drink took sip
weird warmth.. came over me.
As, N.Y. designer !
Lemon, lime drink thought try,
Called a “Margarita,”
drank three.. and “Prayed to die!”
Husband will sip Bourbon
stronger, than perfume I wear.
I simply can smell it,
and swear..”.I drank my share.”
Unlike Mother, I drink wine
before going to bed.
Imagine where it goes?
Directly to my head!
At night had bad leg cramps
gave my specialist a call,
“Add Gin to you Tonic”.
Cramps gone..too tipsy.. might fall!
Mom drank, no alcohol
Life taught me.. enjoy mine.
All with “Moderation”
when Paul brings me.. Gin or Wine.
Feb. 28, 2018
Let the Sight wander
Wander where?
How far can one let it go?
It could lead to uncontrollable outcomes
Even thoughts that were forbidden to be thought of
But is the imprisonment worth it...?
To allow the limits to take hold?
Never able to create a outcome that is your own
Hardly allowed to consider something pleasant
Pleasant for yourself
Something that could ease the suffering
Ease what has been lived with for so long
Letting it be washed away
Washed away in the streams of Hope
The waters devoid of Suffering
Untainted by Troubles
Free of the filth of Avarice
But washed with Moderation
Cleansed Delicately
Close to Purity
But never quite There
The kind that Appeases
Freshly Given
To those who Deserve It
To those who Earned It
this sweet sixteen self should not dare sail away from the safe habour
no matter how sweet-talking boys are or archaic parents sound
it has dumped dollies for ‘fun’ boys and has privileges and rights
but one day it has to unlearn the habit of turning on lights for
romantic rather than economic reasons when other sixteens’
ballooning bellies heave in sight because of boys` menacing
lethal guns or when their bodies lose their natural radiance
because debauchery has ruthlessly ravaged them and turned
their age absolutely upside-down
with moderation and vision and honesty l have to enjoy life
because time flies faster than a silhouetted butterfly
18 December 2012
Our search for perfect knowledge has led us
Through a perilous journey, from the scotching sun
Of the distance river in the Savannah
Across oceans, and snow white
Mountains of the Yankees
Some drank from the fountain of knowledge
And were gratified by it relish
But I seek the waterfall that leads
To the abyss of wisdom
Where She takes her clean bath
of justice, fortitude, honesty, and temperance
And dries her body with moderation
I must strive to conquer time
So that my dreams of seeking her
May not by put to slumber
By the inevitable visitors of our lives
I seek her who does not choose colour
She embraces even the coloured
We must all ask for
Her humble halcyon hand in marriage
Irrespective of our religion, age, or race
They can only hide her from us
But cannot stop us from seeking her
We must all strive to conquer time
So that our dream will not be put to slumber
For all poetry soup Scholars,
keep acquiring wisdom in
writing poems
Test of Time
Who builds courage with
time?
Who with a right character
Always looks delight like a
star?
Who endures in cloudy climes,
with moderation as her
shelter?
Who approaches all asperities
with passion?
They that have perseverance
and endures with aplomb
They that are tolerant
those who are insouciance
They that have endurance
And that are noble
They that are temperate
Those who are patient.
For all poetry soup members
and my love Margret.I love
you
all.
Saint Andrew Joseph
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