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Best Girl Poems

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Details | Girl Poem | |

Alice Sweet Alice

      ~Alice Sweet Alice~

        *Like Sisters*
  Everyday -- Holding Hands 
Sunday Dress -- Pink Ribbons
         *Her And I*


How can they say she did not exist
This Sweet Girl I Named Alice

The way she looked at me
-her eyes tender green
A body figure I can't describe
Together we played hide and seek
We swung in ways no one could see
This girl with pretty red curls
Who loves the sound of pouring rain.

Together we slept under the same breeze 
We carved our names on the same tree
Side by Side it Read Alice & I!
We whispered the day I fell off my bike
Alice sweet Alice, said I look good in bloody red

Every day I stared into the mirror
Alice put her left hand on my right
We share the same identical scars,
under the right and left palm.

The way she held my hand
Healed the scrapes in every fall
Beating from the bullies, she could not take
Again Alice, whispers--- "Kill Them All!"
No one ever said a word,
when she stood by my side
Alice, knew me inside and out.
She knew my eyes -When they cried!

Now I can't sleep,
Since the day Alice, fell in the abyss
Forever conscious in a self hug
--- this is no dream 

The rage took place 
--- when she left!
Burning curtains  
Empty mirrors
This Girl Named Alice, spoke of darkness
Then disappeared 

Now when I hear the sound of pouring rain
I stare at the shadows on the wall
I allow myself to soak in the abyss of where it started all.

My hair of red, is not the same
These cuts are all that remain
The only clue in which Alice, was here!
Holding on to stainless blade

ALICE SWEET ALICE! 
Please call my name!
Why did they say she never held a single breath?
I know she is real, she's existed
Why else would I had let her cut my wrist?

This Sweet Girl 
"I YELL FOR ALICE!"
Visits again ---
Who is to believe?
For everyone says 
Alice lives inside my head.

By;PD

Details | Girl Poem | |

Indian Girl

--Virginia Slim--

Different eyes, the same world 
Ancient skin, dirty Indian Girl 
Smokey, eyes, exotic raven hair 
---Now listen to  the colors, of transformation, 
On the day she was born, the wind blew in, 
A blessing ---her soul, fallen from the heavens
A  gorgeous puff of smoke, Miss Virginia Slim

Able to walk the world with an open mind, she twirls
Pocahontas, one of her many names. 
She carves, and climbs on trees, this little Indian Girl, 
Her feathers ride with the wind, against her red titian skin
Daughter of Chief Powhatan, a powerful tribal, red man 
Peace and love with the Indians of her Virginia Lands,

Many myths, many stories, maybe a mad woman, 
A new Christian, living sad poverty, a silent hero, 
Twisted tales, from savage green to ivory white religion
In her eyes, life never was about greed and skin
Her new look, attained an altitude precision
Pocahontas, tricked and captured, 
Set to sail another tribe, lands were taken over, 
Boat sailed out of Virginia Lands

Tribes acclaimed her to be wild and ambitious
"The naughty one," searching for admission
Native American child, before princess, 
Her beautiful soul, a short auspicious beginning
Leaving her world, beautiful and fearless
Forgetting her roots-- From Mother Willow's Vision 
Pocahontas, the Indian Legend from, The Virginia Lands

by;PD

Details | 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.


Details | 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 one and 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.  
~~~~~


   
 


 

Details | 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."

Details | 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 




Details | 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

Details | Girl Poem | |

Una and the Lion

This world of trouble soon will pass
For there beyond the crystal glass
A lamb and lion tread the grass
Beside a lass, beside a lass

This cord of present time shall break
And hate and fear shall flee and quake
Oh, may all vice this earth forsake!
And love awake! And love awake!

Oh, see him walk 'neath mighty trees!
The king of beasts; what strength and ease!
Yet now content this lass to please
Her hand to tease, her hand to tease

Behold! A pleasant form and face!
The child of beauty crowned with grace!
Fair Una treads at even pace
A better place, a better place


~ The form is Monotetra~
~Based on the painting 'Una and the Lion' by Briton Riviere. Here is a copy and paste link.
http://19thcenturybritpaint.blogspot.com/2012/12/briton-riviere-ctd.html

Details | 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.

Details | Girl Poem | |

She Hulk

When I was a child I only ever wanted to be strong.
I wanted to be able to compete with the boys
and when I foot raced them at recess I won every time.
They called me ‘She Hulk’ because of my muscular frame
and from the way I only ever wore soccer t-shirts and sweat pants.
After that nickname was implanted into my brain like a growing weed,
I’ve only ever wanted to be feminine.
I started wearing skirts and dresses 
and in middle school they shrieked at the site of my makeup and done up hair.
But that weed inside of my mind only grew, and grew, and grew
until I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part anorexic and two parts lonely,
because I thought that the definition of feminine began with the word frail.
No one ever realizes how greatly words affect us,
how a simple nickname can turn a pretty girl into a skeleton.
I stood at five foot two weighing seventy nine pounds,
so cold and frozen,
yet I still considered myself a ‘She Hulk.’
You could see my ribcage through my t-shirt
and my spinal cord protruded loudly through my weathered skin,
as if somehow my bones were dirty knives
just trying to cut through the flesh of judgment.
As I grew older I became the girl that was never enough.
Not good enough to speak poetry.
Not good enough to lay paint on a canvas.
Not good enough.
Not tall enough.
Not big enough boobs for them.
Not primped to perfection.
Not undeniably straight.
Not smart enough.
Not dumb enough.
Not ditsy enough.
Not cool enough or fun enough.
And I began to believe, too, that I wasn’t enough.
I never told my mother that I had been in madly in love with a girl.
I never told anyone about the night we first kissed 
because I was too vulnerable for the judgment.
And parents always justify saying that ‘kids will be kids’
But when we are kids our brains are still growing
and the smallest of seeds that get planted will one day bloom
into one giant regret,
will one day affect the choices that we make,
will one day influence us about the clothes that we wear,
will one day shape us into the person who we thought we would never be.
I only ever wanted to be strong,
and as a child I thought strength was only about being able
to lift a bar stool above your head.
I thought that strength was only about being able
to beat the boys in bare foot running races.
I was told that strength was something only
a man could have.
But as I’ve grown older I’ve realized that strength
isn’t about muscle at all,
but it’s about weakness,
and the ability to overcome the social anxiousness.
It’s about carrying around a lifetime of baggage
on your broken back
because the ones that kicked you when you were down
are going to be the ones that were  ultimately wrong.
I thought that the definition of woman 
began with the word disappointment.
And I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part freedom
and two parts Sailor Jerry
because every girl needs a stiff drink once and awhile.
We are not disappointments.
We will never be the ones who gave up on hope.
We will never be the ones who gave up on each other,
or god,
or our mothers.
We will always be enough;
enough for the ones who shunned us 
enough for the ones that cursed us
enough for the ones the hurt us
and destroyed us
and beat us when we were covered in bruises.
But you see, bruises fade
and the scars of our flesh are only stories
things we have overcame
and there are things out there that we will overcome.
When I was a child, I only ever wanted to be strong.
I hid my vulnerability.
I hid the parts of me that were true.
I never told my mother about my girlfriend
because I was afraid she wouldn’t understand,
kind of like all those people who never understood 
just how much words effect us. 
I can’t say that I can beat the boys at foot races anymore,
because, well, I smoke cigarettes now.
And I can’t say that the nickname of my childhood didn’t affect me.
But I take that name now and embrace it.
Because I am strong.
I am the ‘she hulk’.
I am a mixed drink cocktail
with three parts greatful.

Details | Girl Poem | |

Words

              Words

 I don't have nothing really to post right now
 However, I will read your poems first, 
 In hopes inspiration follows and falls into place

Please do not think I'm here to drop a bomb 
It's just a fair warning on how, I'm here
"To Rock Your World"
Allow me kindly to introduce myself, 
I'm as Sweet as they come 
I'm not the enemy, but a poet friend
In time you will see, and hunger my name

 I'm not new to any poetry world
 In time you will notice I am not your average girl

I will play fair, If you do
I'll be true to you, if you are true 
I'm not here to judge what I can't see
However, I will reply and enjoy the imagery

 This Destroyer is not like a lawyer
 However, mess with me or my sis 
 I'll chew you out like the D.E.A.
 I'll mess with your mind 
 A brain storm cleaning you from bottom to top

I am the POET DESTROYER
Admiring those who love the world of wordplay
Today, I will end my WORDS
With the quote I've always wanted to say
   "I am no poet!"

by;pd

Details | Girl Poem | |

I dreamed a dream of You

Yesterday I dreamed a dream,
that had no end.
You in your white gown, and long, black hair flowing.
You were calling my name.
I heard you, but I couldn't reach you!

And when I say your soul was tainted.
You went out in the night life.
You dressed in your black, evening ball gown.
You danced till the Red Sun came out, over the horizon.

You smiled at me.
A flame in my heart burned red hot!
My knees and hands shook with nerves;
Nerves of love and joy.
I blew you a kiss,
but you turned away!
Oh, please don't turn away from me,
for I would die, if it happened again!

Your beautiful and golden heart showed me the truth.
The truth that every gentleman wants to hear.
I've seen you walk the streets,
in the blue dawn of August.
As I followed you, you stopped and looked at me.
You smiled so beautifully, and my heart fluttered into oblivion!

You walked with your friends and I went my way.
I couldn't find a single trace of you that day.
I cried out "Why did I leave her like this?!"
I looked for you, all over the courtyards and town squares!
Yet no sight of your beauty.
... No sight of your golden heart, that I hold so dear to mine.
Where did you go?
Why did you leave?
Why did I leave... that is the question!

I should have stayed by your side,
till the ends of time.

Yet I had left.
Why...?

One gloomy and parish midnight.
I came along a road,
and soon found myself in front of a wayward cafe.
Smiling faces all around me.
I spotted a beautiful face that outstood all the other faces around me.
It was yours.

Your face brought me to sanity and I went over too you!
You spotted me and tried to run!
I caught you in the dirty hallway and pulled you in.

Our eyes met and I fell in love once again.
Sanity re-entered my mind, body and soul.
I kissed you and you kissed back.
You held my hand, and we left the cafe and walked down the street.

The street was gloomy, yet we together brightened the dark street.
We went back to the lit up city streets, of the lands filled with smiling faces,
and we fell in love and slept together.

You lay there in my restless arms and I gave you a sweet kiss,
upon your sweet and soft head.
Your dark hair was sweet smelling and felt of silk.
I closed my eyes and fell asleep with you,
there in my arms and we dreamed together
till the morning came and woke me up,
and took you away from my weak and weary arms.

I dreamed a dream of you.

Details | 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~

Details | Girl Poem | |

Slave

She wrapped herself in a beautiful lie
Bound so tight she was unable to fly
Slave to some pictues in a magazine
The essence of her could barely be seen

Bound so tight she was unable to fly
Choices she had made but didn't know why
The essence of her could barely be seen
The face of a woman who's only a teen

Choices she had made but didn't know why
Taking her love from a much older guy
The face of a woman who's only a teen
Absorbing sad from the places she's been

Taking her love from a much older guy
Minutes became years as her youth went by
Absorbing sad from the places she's been
Wanted happy but became sad and mean

Minutes became years as her youth went by
Life of desperation and getting high
Wanted happy but became sad and mean
Pain began early when she was fourteen

Life of desperation and getting high
She wrapped herself in a beautiful lie
Pain began early when she was fourteen
Slave to some pictures in a magazine




Details | Girl Poem | |

Daddy's Girl

She was a Daddy's girl
The apple of his eye
Somehow things change
as the years go by

His hugs and kisses
Vanished like the sun
He became serious
Instead of being fun

She wanted to be noticed
Purple hair and pierced nose
She started wearing black
From her head to her toes

He said he was leaving
A new family he had
He said not to worry
He'd always be her dad

She didn't shed a tear
As daddy walked away
Still pain needs expression
She cuts her skin each day

If you see her tatoo
It's a black broken heart
Printed with Daddy's Girl
Her life expressed through art


I wrote this one for Donna Jones
to answer some of the questions
she had about my Watch poem.




Details | Girl Poem | |

Wine and Cheese

Offended is an expensive Vintage
blended 
lacking precision 
I recommend a less sulfuric fermentation


-----------Varietals-------------

grapes of wrath
so much to offer
each glass
examine
swirl
smell
breathe and savor 
see legs of the vine 
tannins to taste

or we can 
over drink 
over think
get wasted and offended 
tick clocks fast
amidst boiling stew
issues skewed by our own jaded views

we can be peaceful 
yet perceived to push hate

our temple may become damaged
via friendly fire

and as for poets... 
we may be the single most egotistical, emotional, tremendously divine 
individuals of all time and we know it!

we laugh when skies cry, seek solitude as joyful crowds arrive
we write and write 'till pens run dry of ink

we, the Swiss cheese...

we pretend to be bulletproof, whilst writhing inside
we juxtapose 
we justify 
we jigsaw puzzle brothers and muzzle others
we control situations then
recite white lies to 
monopolize conversation
all the while remaining dedicated to being offended
with loose change and pretentious 

and boy we've figured out the whole Multi-Verse because 
"My Deity can beat up your Deity!
yet, let me not be the last fool to promise you, 
we are so miniscule, the god's will be too busy swinging sticks on the golf links 
to visit you before the toil of your sore drama is through

we must pave our way, keeping heads clear and high 
stamping urgency upon trusting self 

Mister Bob Marley sang it best with: "EVERYTHINGS GONNA BE ALRIGHT!"

shhh...LISTEN

upon this short enlightening journey
exists a plethora of big aspirations 
we'll fail to grasp if our hopes swirl in the vortex of black clouds
sidetracked
offended at misunderstandings and minute words
burning midnight oil on the spoil.

Details | 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










Details | Girl Poem | |

The Canvas

She painted her emotions with a dark brush
My heart sunk into her canvas
Transported to an endless sadness
She greets me there with a smile
Her light not visable from the other side

"Come" she says
"There are many rooms to explore"
She skips along yesterday's corridors
I follow in tentative foot falls
She looks back, "Here it is, this is where we'll begin."
Through the door we go in

In an instant she disappears
I wondered was she ever here
Then a silent voice whispers in my ear
"Watch and listen, all will unfold"
I watch in silence, my heart feels cold

A mother in a hospital bed
Two baby girls
One of them dead
Tears of joy now sad instead
She whispers "do you see?? Happy Birthday, little me." 

I hear her giggle in another room
So I walk through another door,
a toddler alone on the floor
Mom sitting, at a table with a drink
Little girl starts crying
Mom doesn't even blink

The scene changes 
A parade of men
Mom needs her lovers
Over and over again

In the night
When mom's asleep
Into the girls room, the demons creep
On the bed, there she lays
She leaves her mind
While the bad man plays

I scream
I want him to stop
Her so helpless
Him there on top
The whisper returns "There is nothing to do,
I want you to know the source of my blue."

I say "please I can take no more"
With that she says "there is just one more door."
She is back, she takes my hand
I walk through a door to her promised land

The darkness, is all stripped away
She is young once more, it's bright as day
She turns and smiles, " I'm okay,
long ago I learned to pray."
I said "I do not understand, 
how could he let that happen to you?
Is he not to blame for your world of blue?"
She looks again with knowing smile
"You will understand in a while.
One day all anwers he will reveal, 
best understood when you learn to kneel.

From her canvas 
My mind wishes release
Flowing into my heart, an ancient peace
On humbled footsteps, my journey within
A world of shadows, paper thin
I see beyond sadness
I search within 

This dark picture, 
brushed stroked on my mind
Her life touched by sin, 
Is now redefined
No longer is she broken
I watch her light grow
She says "I'm okay,
it's time for you to go."

For Kelly Deschler's Ghost stories contest.


















Details | 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.

Details | Girl Poem | |

Shawty Got Swag

$hawty Got $wag
Shawty got swag, Shawty mad dope. Face all cheesin’, She real turned up. Goin’ to da club, She steppin' wit her peeps, Lookin’ so ratchet, She’s straight up hoochie.
No racks in her pocket, No stacks in her wallet, But she all into bubbly Slurpin’ and burpin’. Lookin for a big baller, Who’ll give her wat she wants, Wildin’ on the dance floor, Tweakin’ an’ freakin’, Shawty actin' so cra cra! She just like da rest a dem, But Shawty real fly, Sure likes a lotta ice, Bling bling, and Benjamins.
Shawty creepin’ to hook up Coz she needs a boo wit finesse, Who’ll give her Yves St. Laurent, 5-star hotels, and 5-star restaurants. Shawty off the chain, Shawty off the hook, She got game and she’s aight! Shawty da bomb - fuh real!!!
Entered in contest “Ebonics – Let’s Do Some Slang" sponsored by Verlena S. Walker (8-18-2014). Some Terms and Definitions: shawty – a young attractive female; dope – cool, nice, awesome; swag – style; turn up – excited; mad – really a lot; peeps – friends, close pals; baller – a thug that made it in the big time; racks/stacks– lots of money; aight – alright; wildin’– to go crazy, acting out of control; cra cra – crazy; tweakin’/freakin’ – dancing provocatively and moving around out of control; cheesin’ – smiling; finesse – man who has swag and can spend a huge amount of money; ratchet – ghetto diva; creepin’ – sneaking about; bubbly – champagne; bling bling – expensive flashy jewelry; Benjamins – hundred dollar bills; boo – one’s lover; da bomb – the best of the best; game – skills; ice – expensive flashy jewelry usually diamonds or jewelry with diamonds; off the chain/off the hook – excellent, fantastic, awesome; fly – cool, in style; hook up – getting together with someone romantically; hoochie – a female who dresses trashy; straight up – absolutely, really.

Details | Girl Poem | |

The Bond

The bond between a Daddy and a Little Girl is unlike any other,
Its greater than anything even a bond with a Mother,
When a Little Girl hurts her knee, she runs to her Daddy,
He takes all her hurt away, because it is his own pain,
When a Little Girl has a bad dream, she runs to Daddy for protection,
He hugs her in his arms so tight, and tucks her in and says goodnight,
When a Little Girl has a broken heart, she runs and cries in Daddy's arms,
Daddy asks who he has to beat, because they hurt his Little Girl,
When a Little Girl hears bad rumors at school,
She runs and cries to Daddy that they arent true,
He teaches her to be okay, He teaches her to be so brave,
When a Little Girl falls in love, she runs to Daddy with the news,
Daddy gets scared that soon his Little Girl will leave, but in front of his Little Girl he's brave,
When a Little Girl brings home the ring, and her Honey right behind,
Her Daddy greets him as his son, and swallows up his pride,
When the Wedding Day finally comes, and the Little Girl holds her Daddy's arm,
He hides the tears in his eyes, and finds the strength to finally let go of his Little Girl,
When a Little Girl has her own baby, her Daddy is in awe,
He hides the tears from his little grandchild, and makes a new place in his heart,
But when a Little Girl looses her Daddy, she finds her heart is shattered,
Because the bond between a Daddy and a Little Girl is unlike any other...

I Love You Daddy < 3

Details | Girl Poem | |

Knight Rises

He rides towards the setting sun
Further and further from his special one
The sound of his armor clanking with each hoof beat
Perspiration horse and rider oppressive desert heat

He rides through the desert to find the Prince.
Commissioned by the King to bring him home.
All others afraid he rides alone.
He will not stop until he fulfills this pact.
His spirit is strong he chooses to act.

The King makes a promise,
"Brave Knight, bring my son home,
you can have anything,
a castle of stone."
Knight responds, " I will do what you ask.
I will not stop 
Until I complete the task.
Allow me to make 
but one request, 
to marry your daughter Jessica
when I pass this test."

She with the face of an Angel,
stunning blue eyes.
Heart so beautiful,
his mighty soul cries.

No man would stand,
in the Knight's way.
Yet there are things,
much deeper at play.

Days and nights in the desert,
plays tricks on the mind.
Time has no meaning,
as it begins to unwind.
He heads into the valley,
the valley of death.
Gods willing,
he won't breathe his last breath

Witches enchantresses,
orbs of blue light.
Naked nymphs dancing,
in the glowing moonlight.


He dismounts,
calls out the Prince's name
The Prince is engaged
In a deadly game

The prince responds,
"please leave me be.
I am being pleasured,
by the beauty you see."

The creatures of the night,
seek his seed,
In exchange they promise,
to satisfy every need.

The Knight,
strong and true.
He sees beyond,
nimble bodies of blue.

The voice of his Jessica,
whispers in his heart.
With his sword,
he tears the illusion apart.

Bodies of the demons 
in a pile they lay
He fights through the evening
Until light of day

The Prince freed,
from a prison of lies.
Fooled by illusion,
he didn't realize.

A Knight strong and brave,
loyal and wise.
Evil banished,
he claims his prize.

Home to his Princess the Kingdom saved.
Triumphant return the banners are waved.
A Heros welcome a true loves kiss.
Endings don't come much happier than this.


Medieval Idealism, contest
Written July 30th 2013.


Details | Girl Poem | |

On a Winter's Night



Light 
drips from hanging lamps;
above the roofs
blue tinted, yellow moon's nocturne....
In herds, the dark firs weep and wail,
under the gables
the nightly birds
sojourn.

Tu-whit, tu-who 
called the brooding owl --
to her in the stillness of her dream;
the mist poured through the boughs
and the leaves, a wraith catnapped
on the smoky waters
in the stream.

Woodfire crackled 
streaming golden curls,
blent with the creeping air coldest 
of the year; 
she whispered a prayer, 
bare her silent soul, 
behind the wavering shadows 
trembled in her dark eyes
a tear.



``


Details | Girl Poem | |

The Long and Short Of It

I awakened about midnight in the middle of the day.
I was crawling swiftly toward you as I slowly raced away.
I hummed a merry melody that truly had no tune
As I ate my cup of coffee and then drank my bowl of prune.
The pot of beans boiled over upon the pristine ceiling
So I tossed out the banana and I ate the wormy peeling.
The cat was barking at me and the happy dog meowed
As I stood out there so lonely in the middle of a crowd.
The sun was shining brightly in a snowy blackened sky,
I was a girl so much in hate I wished I that I could die.

The wilted flowers were nice and fresh just as they ought to be,
The ugly ones you sent me from  so far across the sea.
The postman brought the email that I had mailed to you.
He said it had no stamp and so he couldn't let it through.
I long so much to see you and to look in your brown eye
And I cannot wait to hold you and to say a sad goodbye.
If you want to read my letter, please do call me yesterday. 
I cannot wait to see you so please take the long hard way.
My daddy said he’s happy to give you my eager hand,
The one that’s always begging for his money, understand.

The guests are now arriving in their wrinkled, tattered rags
And the ushers have been drinking rare champagne from paper bags.
The musicians have their bag pipes out to play a cheerful dirge.
And I'm waiting for my bridegroom from his boudoir to emerge.
The honored guests are seated in the front of the back row
And the flower girl is directing everybody where to go.
The preacher stands beside me as I search the smoke filled room
For a candidate who's better than is my intended groom.
You know I love you more than all the pimples on my face,
As I claim you as my husband in your denim dress of lace.




Oxymoronica Contest by Kristen Bruni  13th p[lace

Details | Girl Poem | |

CHECK OUT THOSE BOOBS

Oh my, they come in all sizes
Some petite and some grand
We'd like you to keep them
Yes, I'm personally a big fan
So I'm running in this race
My pink shoes are for you
Ladies, with all of my heart
I share your fight to keep two

They say that early detection
Is the name of the breast game
So check out your nice perks
Don't think to feel ashamed
Cancer's such a cruel curse
We've got to beat it down
So touch those sweet glories
Let your hands circle round

And if by some happen chance
You're not to sure what to do
Girl, call the boobie coach
You know they're there for you
Ok, I'll really be serious now
Breast cancer is never a joke
So we run to raise awareness
A check we hope you'll stroke

Ladies, you are so beautiful
We want to keep you around
So we're all putting on the pink
And we're racing thru downtown
When this 5K is over at ten
We know the battle's still not won
But together we'll finally defeat it
Until then.. the many fight as one!

*October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  Your going to see a lot of pink this month.  Let it be your reminder to do something.  Together, we can overcome this scourge in our lifetime!

Date: 10-17-14