“If you scratch my back,”
said the cuttlefish,
“I'll scratch yours, my dear,
for you're really quite a dish!”
“If we were to wed,
'neath overhead night starry,
upon the ocean bed,”
replied the calamari,
“just think,
when the ink
has dried,
together
we'll be tied,
I'll be your Belle,
you'll be my Beau,
and happily we'll be,
ever after... squid pro quo.”
Faintly the church bell tolls
On the hour, faintly she sighs
She cries out to the Lord
About the how's and whys
She's a women
(Some say she is scorned)
Most don't see the women I see
A lover with love she's adorned
She can smile in the sun
And hide in the moon
But when she has a sad
I feel our hearts rhythm in tune
She's not a ragdoll
Even if it is for a laugh
I know b'cuz of two hearts twain
She is one half
I look at her and think, you
Can take the old and mend'em new
A second hand heart makes do
(With all she's been through)
'twas at the country fair I spied her
outstanding in her field
(in many more ways than one)
beyond compare second to none
eyelashes long and lovely skin of velvety down
I insist who could resist those eyes so big so brown
(limpid pools?) 'twould make a fool of (almost) any man
but I'm her biggest fan and I won't lie I can't deny
a complexion creamy a gaze quite dreamy
took my breath away that day
and in her hair a ribbon a ribbon of bonny blue
lost my heart (and then my mind) what's a boy to do
'twere love instantly 'At first sight' one might even say
(could she be the one for me?)
I couldn't let her get away and so I took her home
it was a first for me but please don't think the worst
(there'll be no matrimony)
I've sailed the seven seas to the four corners of the earth
been to hell (without a handbasket) and for what it's worth
been around the whole wide world
but waiting there at the country fair
where ruminating I found my one and only
my Jersey Belle, my Jersey girl
under a full moon night awakens
magical fingers dancing across a keyboard
enchanted stars, the trees, and
blooms approach to appease their curiosity
AP: 1st place 2025
Neither Dumb Belle nor dumbell: The Search for Personal Identity.
Made in His image Divine, one and one equals two
The differences plain and simple in design
Does not "Woman" mean "Female Man,"
From First Man her origins taken?
Together strong and flexible
In time they find each in and as the other
Indispensible to humankind's survival
A perfect pair in God's blueprint for life
God's portrait as a dyptich,
Masterful, expressionistic, abstract and figurative
A little lower than angels, yet crowned in his glory
Strength and Kindness gifted to each one...
Yes in deed, God in plain sight of angels
made the two of them become as one-
Holy, wholly separate, inseparable, in mind, heart-
The children of His Love for Life
A vision for all to see-together his image on earth.
Together, one and one equals three
Aqua Marine. Just Musing on a Personal Journey of My Own.
30 March 2025
(First of a series on personal identity. :) )
Oh young woman still searching for love
Oh young woman reaching for what’s above
Now young woman what’s out in front of you?
Now young woman what are you to do?
So lovely that the men won’t leave her be
So lovely for that one man ought to see
See her not feeling her best today
See her later when she needs to get away
Be with her when she needs someone close
Be with her when she confides in you the most
She can afford a smile but you can’t with a dime
You would know this if you’d take the time
Take the time to know her and show her
What she means to you
When she leans in towards you.........
Just let her know
Not yet as graceful as the swan she shall be
but charming and delightful is Eloise to me.
Trying her best to stay en pointe on tiny toes,
focusing on pirouettes, she wiggles her nose.
Still a bit shy when she knows others are looking.
A few years more until The Royal Ballet's booking.
This petite ballerina twirls in circles all around
in her leotard and tutu or in her pink nightgown.
A belle, ethereal and calm,
Was cursed with eternal tears.
Her grace was destined to decay,
were that which caused her tears revealed.
Her face, a sparkling mess of dew,
Disguises all the pain within
With rosy cheeks and crystal tears
That crash upon the collarbone.
"They're tears of joy," she would pronounce
Lest all her charm should turn to stone,
"Enjoyed by all except myself,"
Inside her heart she would bemoan.
A muse of grief had she become,
Provoking poets, painters, too,
To make art out of tragedy;
Pianos to articulate
clandestine melancholic tones.
Concealed must all her pain remain
So Art Utopia sustains.
Oh to write a limerick like Belle's
Of Heathers in leathers himself
Stayed up all night
But tried as he might
The last thing he said was "Oh well."
BOW BELLE
A young artist’s model from Bow
Would pose with her bosom on show
But was suitable chaste
In the name of good taste
And covered the bits down below
A flamingo asked a fer-de-lance
To be his date to a high school dance.
"Oh, you don't want to go with me.
I've neither arms nor legs, you see."
"No problem there", flamingo said,
"You can still play the perfect role.
We'll enter the limbo contest,
And you can be the pole!"
\Poor Blessed belle black!
always domestic, servant!
Why never free...!!!
PS first poem in a series about blackness and slavery, mainly from the history of Brazil, so repeated around...
alkas
Õ! Mon desert ! Mon trésor
La source de ma joie toi le Maroc
La rose qui répand l'audeur
et le parfum des fidèles
Quand je mets mon pied sur le sol Je ressens que mon corps s'élève au dessus di ciel
Il s'envole, ses ailes déployés, sur cette terre considérable
Mon âme qui est autrefois semble Peureuse vulnérable
Devient comme un aigle imposant sans chagrin
Stunning beauty of the moon
female representative look-alike
in fabulous nude image
Betsie tripped on spider silk
And kicked a can of milk
But with aplomb this cow
Stood up and took a bow
And though her feet were wet
She did a perfect pirouette.
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Children Sing to Rhyme Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
© 1st April 2023
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