a gorgeous bouquet of flowers arrived at a quarter to five
Neisha put them into a vase, before her date could arrive
Tucked away the card with the others around the table
She knew she would get more whenever they were able
Xavier is a suiter who is giving her a huge rush
Because he has forever had a large crush
Neisha likes him more than a little bit too
He arrived at six with gum on his shoe
As he washed it off, she accepted another bouquet
Three other ones arrived from her other beaus too, but what the hey?
If she did not let this guy know what a fix he was in
Would he forget to propose? Would he not know she is the win?
Eva’s daily excitement was boundless
Her enthusiasm wore out her beaus.
At first they were bowled over with fascination
By the girl who bounded around the room laughing.
Eventually her mania either wore off or wore thin.
The beaus fell out of love with her, and she hunted them.
They began hiding in their mama’s houses, under beds.
Sometimes she fished them out, her lunacy always intact.
I can change him she said
Her name is Monica
She planned to change her last six beaus
Did her best too
None of them changed
Her optimism is applaudable
But not contagious
Wouldn’t it be easier to date a beau she does have to change?
beauties
unruffled
on a steamy day
float in boats rowed by their beaus
white silken hands folding their fans at sunset
"Be still my heart!"
The thunder, the splatter,
all the drenching liquid matter --
then the storm passes,
and out come beautiful lasses,
clipping roses for bonnets,
choosing beaus for dearer sonnets -- it's really about love --
there might be a gator at Sunday’s table.
Don’t act surprised, if you are able.
Why does Shelly always cross-species date?
She wants to prove that she does not hate.
Why do we have to be polite to them?
They are her dates, her beaus, her men.
But a gator? I protested. Grandma, no!
She would not budge, so I did not go.
A fast-paced, quick-thinking woman is Jen.
Gregarious and fun, she juggles her men
Tossed and tumbled, all three laugh about it.
Loving her the whole time, for she is a chit.
Happy-go-lucky, fun to be with for sure.
Her motives are good-natured, totally pure.
All think they have a chance, but none know.
She juggles six more beaus down in Buffalo.
there might be a gator at Sunday’s table.
Don’t act surprised, if you are able.
Why does Shelly always cross-species date?
She wants to prove that she does not hate.
Why do we have to be polite to them?
They are her dates, her beaus, her men.
But a gator? I protesed. Grandma, no!
She would not budge, so I did not go.
“Her smile as captivating as a blooming rose
her eyes as dating as it shames the bluebells petals of beaus
It seemed so opposed yet I wanted to foreclose
She was the luminescence of my interceptions
As a fluorescence, she came to me in my deceptions
Enriching up my conceptions,
Yet is that all that she makes me please?
A glorious image in repeat?
Something that seems to discreet
Yet, in my reminiscence called dreams, she’s always my receptance
Yet, never seems to befall in her own conceptions
But always pleases that luminescence that burns in my inceptions
A fire that burns in her right
However, dissolves in my sight”
It was a bright and clear day,
She wore a flowing pink dress bordered with lace,
Her face glowed under the sun's light,
She didn’t expect any less after days of grooming,
She sat like an adorned princess,
The garden was a huge delight
The blooms were cathartic and therapeutic,
She anticipates his visit,
A handsome lad from the neighbouring Isles,
Each time they converse,
The more they are drawn to each other,
She has had suitors come for her,
She has had beaus praise her snow-white beauty,
None had been able to open the door to her heart,
Only Alejandro has been the fortunate one,
He first saw her in a picture with an acquaintance,
Since then he has been spellbound,
Swept off his feet by his newfound,
“My lady, your guest is here.”
She turned to look at her maid,
She beamed with a smile as she stood up,
She walked with elegant strides,
Her heart raced,
“Meredith!”
“Oh, yes mum.”
“Could you please help me with these logs?”
“Ok, mum.”
“Thank you, dear.”
February 14, 2023,
Wave of Fantasy Poetry Contest,
Mystic Rose Rose.
There is a girl I know,
A work of sheer perfection head to toe.
Each time I think of her, my heart beats so,
And her name is Sadie Sue.
She has a pair of eyes
That are bluer than West Texas skies,
And there's a hint of promise in her sighs
Of paradise with Sadie Sue.
The way she moves her hips
Can make me tingle to my fingertips,
And when she speaks the honey fairly drips
From the lips of Sadie Sue.
When she turns on her smile,
It lights the world up for a country mile,
And my humdrum life seems more worthwhile
When I can be with Sadie Sue.
She has her pick of beaus,
And fellas flock around her, Heaven knows,
But by some chance if it were me she chose,
I would be true to Sadie Sue.
And then how proud I'll be
When my dream becomes reality
And she goes walking down the aisle with me,
The day I marry Sadie Sue.
Marching bands passing for a valiant hero like you.
You won in the battle; bet your friends like it too!
They see admiration and love in those stories you tell.
It’s your calculated move to micromanage them well.
How impeccable for you to depict me the villain of your tale?
Maybe the crook to be blamed who made the relationship gale.
You can get sympathy from people as many as you like.
You can block my name on your list; get rid of me out of your sight.
So here’s a toast to success for staining my clothes.
You can celebrate your new life; perhaps collect your new beaus.
Screwing me over onto something that I was sorry about is just unfair.
I knew you did everything on purpose; I knew that you were showing no care.
A big round of applause to a hero like you!
What a villainous crime to hurt me; bet your friends like it too!
Buried in a great big trunk
are things that some might call junk
Sweet cards from old friends and beaus,
decades-old knick-knacks and prose.
“Unclutter your life,” some say.
“Throw what you don’t use away.”
I say to them, “Let me be.
My keepsakes aren’t junk to me.”
*This is jeuju poetry. Here is Soup's basic definition of the form:
A Jueju is a type of poem from China that consists of a matched pair of couplets. Each line has either five syllables or seven syllables, so I followed the model given at Soup and then I wrote two Jeuju that go together.
March 22, 2022
For the Form J - Just Write Me A New Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
(#4 word chosen: junk)
Summer sky sparkles under huge bursts of light
Spiraling rockets and rainbows of color delight
Kiddie rides and merry-go-rounds spinning around
While roller coasters lift one high off the ground
Vendors sell hotdogs and pink cotton candy galore
Even if you win a prize, you come back for more
The midway is lively with strange, exotic shows
Sporty guys have their gals, and the gals their beaus
Warm breezes waft through the open-air cantina
A wandering stilt walker plays a squeaky concertina
The dads will gain bragging rights ringing the bell
A barker guesses mom’s weight, but she’ll never tell
Then, too soon the fun was over, tents folded up
All I brought home was a tiny, plastic loving cup!
written February 25, 2022
There once was a girl called “Sea Alice”
She lived on her boat, quite a “palace”
Her beaus never end
When their masts seem to bend
The ladies feel nothing but malice!
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.