Best Girl Poems
Below are the all-time best Girl poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of girl poems written by PoetrySoup members
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Girl
Poem
Super Soupers
It was a rainy day so I flipped through a stack of comics
My Amazing Poet series
Finally I picked the fabulous Five
I liked the picture on the front
Yanny the Zen Master with long black hair
Becca the Creative and Beautiful with her mythical pen
One of my favorites sultry Eileen known as the Emotionator
Anne the Philosopher was right there beside Eileen with her magical smile
Then to round out this team was Vicky Victorious calling from the wilderness
In this edition they were battling the Poet Destroyer and Joker Jack
who had kidnapped Newbie Timothy Hicks
As I read their words I was in awe of my Heros
They made me cry
They brought me to new worlds
Filled with adventures
Sexy had new meaning
Tears became diamonds
Winds swirled inside my head
All the emotions of the rainbow
I longed to write with such clarity and strength
I tried to flex my poetic Muscles
Worked out every day
Then on the back of the comic
A scrawny poet sat on a beach
Beside the girl of his dreams
He is writing for her when along comes a muscular poet
The big poet kicks metaphorical sand in his face
The the scrawny poets girl is whisked away
Underneath it says
Are you tired of having Metaphorical sand kicked in your face?
Are other Poets getting the girl?
All that can change
Join the Andrea Dietrich School of Creative Poetry
She will have you writing like The Fabulous Five
You will never be afraid to flex those poetic muscles again
So I cut out the back page and sent my five dollars
The address is PO Box 88888 Inspiration California
Now all I can do is wait
What will the future Hold?
Note there are many Poets here who would appear in my vast Amazing poet series.
Poet Destroyer and Joker Jack are not Evil nemeses they were chosen for the roll
because of their names( also I love their work.) I hope you enjoyed my little tale.
Some of the younger poets may not be familiar with the Charles Atlas ads that used
to be on the back of comics, the rest of you I am sure will get the joke.
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Girl
Poem
Frosted Panes - re-post
When winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again
In that old house, where you wove that coloured tapestry
With all the glorious memories of your life upon the sea
With weathered palm so deeply etched with every season past
You rubbed a porthole in the center of the frosted glass
Where outside in splendour lie a winter-wonderland
As halos rose above your head from a pipe bowl in your hand
And there upon a rocking chair as smoke rings filled the air
We rocked across a sea of dreams wind tangled in our hair
To lands I’d never been before we stepped upon those shores
And through your eyes I saw each oneand still I wanted more
The morning passed in dreams between two pairs of eyes of green
As the world outside held its breath in a sea of snowy cream
And when the chill of winter melted from the windowpane
The whistling kettle on the stove brought us home again
You held my hand and looked at me with that twinkle in your eyes
And told me you would be my Captain 'til the day I died
So when winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again
~~~~~
Written: Jan 15, 2011
Author: Elaine George
First Place in Brian Strand's contest: Let's See
4th Place In - Anything goes contest
In loving memory of my Dear Papa 'Captain James George'.
Authors Note:
When I was a child of three, I Went to live for a year with my Grandparents in Nova
Scotia. At that time my Grandfather was a retired Sea Captain of a Three Mast
Schooner. He had spent most of his life at sea, taking lumber and coal to New
Brunswick and various ports in the U.S. and in the winter months, would carry on to
pick-up and deliver cargo in the West Indies. Although my time with him was short,
the memories we shared have comforted me through-out the years.
~~~~~
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Girl
Poem
Kiss the Rain
I'm leaving now, but here is a reminder
'Twill bring to you the days we walked through rain
So when you wish to feel my hand in yours
Or stroke your dripping hair-- Then kiss the rain
Though leaving now, I wish I could be with you
So when you feel o'erwhelmed with grief or pain
And long for my caress upon your face,
The rain will touch instead-- So kiss the rain
Whenever you have tho'ts of this sad parting
And salty tears your lovely cheeks do stain
To feel the tears for you I'll surely have
Do this, and I will too-- Go kiss the rain
Whenever you are longing for my presence
And times that we went strolling down the lane
I'll whisper soft endearments on the breeze
So heed the sighing wind-- And kiss the rain
If ever you should pine to hear me speaking
The thunder might burst forth with glorious main*
While drops that fall are sure to be my tears,
To feel them wet your skin-- Just kiss the rain
* Power or Force
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Girl
Poem
UNFORGOTTEN
My recollections are grifters, dragonflies glazing
glacier springs, skimming over unforgotten lands,
fleeing my inept hands that so long to just once snatch
that fragility, but those filigree wings raze the heart.
Recollections can be Mercurochrome whims
that heal with stings and then leave stains.
Are such things a balm and do they enflame?
Grifters all, those yesteryears and their sly charms,
That shift alarms and then zero in for the kill.
Dragonflies soar through my dreams like they did
at the cottage we rented the summer I turned twelve,
before my mother changed, became ill.
Glazing the lake, the sun seemed lower there.
Glacier cubes, little ones, would click against
cups that held lemonade, but I had a secret.
Springs hid in a forest nearby, so I would trek
through woods to sip water so pure
that I was Bernadette in Lourdes.
Skimming stones over the lake, trying to
count past two, I never succeeded.
Over and over, I would try to wake the
Mystical Lady beneath the reeds.
Unforgotten are those days.
Lands of soft green are now gold.
Fleeing memories can’t be done.
My childhood is a menagerie of tales untold.
Inept are these words as I scribble moments
that ate melting Raisinets as the sun set.
Hands, much smaller, now flutter in mine.
That and this, she commands, and asks why
the man in the moon wants to hide.
So, I watch the magic in her unfold,
like that spring and that child from decades ago.
Long is the growing process, but short are days.
To remember those firefly evenings is to forgive,
And those campfires sparked more than conversation.
Just once, though, I wish I could forget the rest.
Snatch that gawky girl and return her to enchantment.
Fragility deserves a second chance to sing with crickets.
But those hours are gone, and the ones I now live in
are driven by the compulsion to nurture.
Filigree wings worn by a tot remind me of journeys and
how time’s narrow portal opens only to close.
Raze I will that autumn and its mad, destructive chill
and I will protect one serendipitous season.
The heart we are given can be filled with such love that the
maternal trickles its way down to a girl studying dragonflies and
we hop on a boulder to sit with our former selves
shoulder to happy shoulder.
*For Debbie Guzzi's Et Cetera Contest.
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Girl
Poem
Sweetest Love Note
One night a guy & a girl were
driving home from the movies. The
boy sensed there was
something wrong because of the painful
silence they shared between them
that night. The girl then asked the boy to pull over
because she wanted to talk. She told him that her
feelings had changed & that it was time to move on.
A silent tear slid down his cheek as he
slowly reached into his pocket & passed her a folded note.
At that moment, a drunk driver was speeding down
that very same street. He swerved
right into the drivers seat, killing the boy.
Miraculously, the girl survived. Remembering the note, she
pulled it out & read it.
"Without your love, I would die."
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Girl
Poem
Alana Dulcita
Once in a forest, a long time ago,
there dwelt a young maiden, bright, sweet and fair.
Flowers she wore in her long wavy hair,
and each day she’d vanish into gloaming’s glow.
Alana Dulcita was this young maid’s name,
a name that fell sweetly from everyone’s tongue.
The townspeople loved her -both old and young,
yet nobody knew from where the girl came.
They only knew that, at the end of each day,
with sun dipping downward into the west
and sky splashed with colors Alana liked best,
was when, as if magically, she’d slip away!
“Where does she go?” all the villagers asked,
“And how does she leave us so quietly
that not even one of us ever can see?
Has some kind of spell on our dear girl been cast?”
Spell or no spell, the young maid had powers
as into the woodland she fled and then donned
a gossamer gown, hidden well near a pond
surrounded by beautiful flowers.
She peered into water after she’d kneel
as a lovely face gazed back at her.
In this perfect moment, what should occur
but, like magic, the girl became real!
Her filmy silk gown would blend with her skin,
shrinking into a stem, and her face
changed into petals till soon not a trace
remained of the form that a human lives in.
Alana Dulcita, her real self again,
breathing lilacs’ and lilies’ sweet scent,
would bow her fair face, a flower content,
to repose by the pond with her kin.
Awaking at dawn, renewed, she’d return
to the town where they loved her so well,
keeping the secret she never could tell
of youth’s beauty for which humans yearn.
She’d never grow old as long as she had
a place of seclusion where she might go
to water around which bright flowers could grow,
for this is what kept the soul of hers glad!
Never to marry and never to stay
too long in one place, she’d always move on.
Beloved she would be till the day she was gone.
This, for Alana, was the only way.
Alana Dulcita, where did she go
when forests grew small and lake beds grew dry?
Did the fair maid eventually die
or is she still sleeping where bright blossoms grow?
Note: The name Alana means "the bright fair one" in Gaelic
or "precious; awakening" in Hawaiian & "Beautiful dear child"
in Irish/ the name Dulcita is Latin for "sweet."
Written by Andrea Dietrich & Inspired by the "Reflections" Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France ~A Rambling Poet~
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Girl
Poem
Who am I?
I am
The red ripe apple of the sinful tree,
The honey suckle of the bumble bee.
The pink blushed rose Of the secret garden,
The stubborn spoilt lass,never in pardon.
The youngest daughter of the honeyed sun.
The castle dream girl in Sands Of fun.
The jealous lover of the crescent moon,
The blowing Wind in strong monsoon.
The first white swan in the silver lake,
The seizmic tremor of each earthquake.
The scarlet love bird on each window pane,
The falling tear drop of crystal rain.
The candle's flicker of each passionate flame,
The Mystery!mademoiselle,madam,or dame?
The Copper butterfly in each Serene Meadow,
The Sunday church girl in White snow's shadow.
The brown eyed maiden of deep blue Seas,
The pretty Woman of soft strawberries.
The old fashioned lady in sweet proposal,
The gold stringed harp in music's motion.
The colored Smile on rainbow's face,
The flamenco dancer covered in lace.
The little Mermaid in pirates'streams,
The wafting wave in glittered gleams.
The twinkling Star Of black silk skies,
The lanterne light Of fire flies.
The Cindirella in glass slippers,
The happy verse of each romance.
The grown up baby who easy cries
The grown up lady who easy smiles.
The wishing feather of a flying free dove,
The Veiled young lady in the 'Power Of love'.
Charma
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Girl
Poem
The Dancing Girl
A blythe young girl with lively feet,
Said she would rather dance than eat;
So she shook off all the worldly blues,
And put on her dancing shoes.
She danced thru day and danced thru night,
She danced till the stars lost their light;
She danced her lover out of breath,
And danced her husband quite to death.
She danced her beauty all away,
And then she danced the night away;.
Her big toe then went out of joint,
And all the others came to a point.
Still she danced, and waltzed and whirled,
The dizziest girl in all the world.
She danced herself as a spinning top,
Out of breath but could not stop;
Still spinning around, she flew so far,
Then her feet got caught on the point of a star:
And there she danced for all to see,
In all the dark spaces of eternity.
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Girl
Poem
The girl with the guitar
On the strings of love,Soft fingertips are playing,Music in her heart.
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Girl
Poem
Spider songs
Blades of grass, wet under foot, insect eyes
Dusk, offset by the cricket orchestra
Muted and receding into the trees and bushes,
Tickled by the wind, rattling snake tail wind
While we may be in the company of wolves,
A long legged friend is late for the party
Eyes, little iridescent stars
Attending to each one, and look there,
There she is, making the most beautiful geometry
Parallels within the octagons, pulling silks
An arm for every task, little perpetual motion machine
Is that the Queen of the Night under the rusted iron?
A forlorn lady, black patent leather, kill a man, maybe two
With her danger red symmetry, oozing with youth
And a penchant for paralysis, no one can resist her wine
Then there's the hall of cob webs, threadbare handkerchiefs
Left by ladies who exhausted all of their company
To be a spectacle under the moon, in the wood pile
Dressed up in the finest furs, all earth tones
Stepping out to introduce themselves in girlish droves
Venus of another sort, these little cursed jezebels
Hovering on the skin of the water, or on the red brick wall
Must frequent every happy corner, and slip away at a moment's notice
A real lady always knows when to say goodnight
Such graceful exits through cement cracks
Back to the parlor, to glow in the dark
And they become spiders again
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