Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

The Fortune Cookie

I finished my Chinese meal all at once
and stared at the cookies like some sort of dunce.

When I read my fortune I did not understand
from the small piece of paper, I held in my hand.

It said that my next days wouldn't be "fun",
and that my plight was to live like Attila the Hun;

I wasn't real comfortable about eating alone
but, I paid off the bill and went straight to the phone.

I placed my phone call from the diner's phone booth
in search for my date for lunch, my friend Ruth.

I asked for my tea when I stood to get up
but, I was so worried I couldn't finish my cup!

I ran out the door and I searched through the lot,
but, Ruth and her car, at the diner...were not!

It then started raining, and I got a good douse,
then it quickly dawned on me to check out her house.

I arrived in an hour at her tiny white lodge,
and saw that her car wasn't in her garage!

I spied in each window, but all I could see
was an empty abode, 'cept her cat...Mr. "T".

I then got quite worried with a pang of fright,
but, I went home anyway and called it a night.

The next day was worse, I was at my wits end!
I just couldn't believe I had lost my good friend!

Ruth was the type to confirm a lunch date,
she would not have left me hanging like this, at any rate.

I searched the grocery store, and mall like some jerk;
'til I thought I had better go and check out her work.

I still was puzzled about my being a barbarian
as I strolled to where Ruth worked as a librarian.

Well, they hadn't seen her...she had three days off,
something about her having a bad cough.

So, day two was futile...I had all but given up;
I chased her with whiskey...cup after cup.

Day three went much better, it put Ruth within reach
I remembered when ill, Ruth would visit the beach.

I drove for three hours and arrived at the sand;
to find Ruth still coughing, but so nicely tanned.

With my hands in my pockets, I felt great and so free;
I'd finally found Ruth...and still had her fortune cookie!

I remembered I'd taken one on the day of our date,
so I gave it to her...it wasn't too late.

I knelt down beside her, and felt the warmth of the sun;
and recalled my strange fortune about Attila the Hun;

out of my pocket, I held the slip in my hand;
I re-read it again...and I began to understand;

well, I couldn't stop laughing whilst down on one knee,
for I had gone three whole days...living quite, "Ruthlessly"!

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
This is my second effort for this workshop.......which, I might add; was a "tad" tougher than I first thought. Doc. (ps)- I did re-edit the fourth line.......I hope, to your liking, Mark. What say you? Doc.
Editing stage: 

Comments

...to both you, AND Pat, for your very generous remarks! I sincerely appreciate the encouragement.
doc.

Neopoet is "newtriffic" !
...from the heart, or a reasonable faxcimile;
david a. goodwin #{:>{)} @==

author comment

The poetry isn't as sharp as your other submission, but as a story you found all the pieces. Though a very simple and somewhat whimsical tale, it is a tale indeed. This is what your other poem needs. I had a clear exposition and knew my protagonist before you went. The complication is clear (and satisfyingly frantic) and our climax/resolution occurred at pretty much the same time... totally acceptable. If you liked how this turned, I might tweak the meter a bit, but I don't think it needs much. And the story is clear, competent and delightful.
Bravo.
wesley

p.s. storytelling is quite a bit more difficult than it sounds, isn't it?

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
http://www.neopoet.com/mentor/about

...I'm just now officially answering this comment because; l handwrite my poems and ended up with a bad case of writer's cramp.

Neopoet is "newtriffic" !
...from the heart, or a reasonable faxcimile;
david a. goodwin #{:>{)} @==

author comment

...I'm just now officially answering this comment because; l handwrite my poems and ended up with a bad case of writer's cramp....(which festered, and morphed into an inflamed writer's blockage, but that's a whole other issue)...but,you're very correct, sir. What l was doing was, trying to use what l was working on at the time, in your worksop....to no avail! I think that l would've had to sacrifice some, or all of the "inner mindgames", or psychological edginess, if you will...from spelling everything out....as, you had directed me. Well, all seiousness aside; l did enjoy both the well-run workshop AND your patient direction! Thanx, for the both of them.
My on-line proweress has been intermittent, at best; however, now I've officially gone from windows vista, to windows 7; so maybe NOW l'll become a better human being, guitarist, golfer, AND "poemstory guy of the millenium"; what do you think my chances are?
10 - Q, once again....
...I even put my back into, this!
...how do ya like me, NOW?

:) docmaverick.

Neopoet is "newtriffic" !
...from the heart, or a reasonable faxcimile;
david a. goodwin #{:>{)} @==

author comment
(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.