Best Ball Poems


Premium Member The Belle of the Ball

My dress is made of fine peach coloured lace
Hair is in ringlets, which frames my pretty face
The lights in the room cast a romantic glow
My first ever ball; I must go with the flow

The orchestra strikes up a wonderful tune
Ladies and gentlemen glide round the room
I stand on the sidelines I am oh so very shy
Then a dashing young man catches my eye

I smile at him, then I coyly avert my eyes
I find him so handsome; that I cannot disguise
He reaches tenderly for my awaiting hand
We move to the dance floor; oh it is so grand

His arm wrapped around my tiny waist
We dance to the music, there is no haste
So full of excitement at the hope of romance
I float round the room at my very first dance

At the end of the dance he bows down low 
My heart is aflutter I hope this does not show
He leads me gently to the side of the room
Sweet roses enchant us, we smell their perfume

Time flies by so fast and we dance all night
He looks in my green eyes and to my delight
Whispers so gently those words I long to hear
You simply are the belle of the ball my dear

He reaches out gently and kisses my hand
My first ever ball has been oh so grand
Sadly now it is time for me to depart
I bid adieu to the man who has stolen my heart



4/1/19 
2019 Poetry Marathon Final Placement 
Sponsor: Mark Toney

11~15~14

A Debutante's Ball To Remember

A Debutante’s Ball to Remember

In the autumn of my life, oft have I recalled that superb summer night,
when I finally experienced my long-awaited heart’s delight.
Family and close friends were all ready for my entry into society,
to celebrate it with a grand debutante’s ball filled with gaiety.

In a dreamlike state, I felt like a princess with a golden crown,
making my grand entrance wearing a champagne chiffon gown. 
With matching gloves, and a pair of satin shoes on my tiny feet, 
my auburn hair was adorned with butterflies and posies sweet.

The ballroom was magically transformed with gas lights all aglow,
and a glittering chandelier reflected on a highly polished mahogany floor. 
As the orchestra played, my body and soul were enraptured and consumed
by its rendition of Ravel’s enthralling “La Valse” which pervaded the room.

Elegant ladies were all dressed to the nines in exquisite pastel gowns
of winter white, baby blue, powder pink, pale peach and beautiful browns.
In tacit competition to out-best each other, social charms were well-honed,
as they daintily fanned themselves and gossiped animatedly in hushed tones.

Refined gentlemen in their finely-tailored tails navigated the room to mingle,
keeping an eye out for eligible heiresses beautiful, graceful, and single.
Wafts of mild masculine colognes came from discretely dabbed faces and hair;
while the fresh feminine floral scent of French perfumes permeated the air. 

Armed with a full dance card, I waltzed the night away with ardent admirers,
curtsying and coquettishly smiling, moving on to more exciting suitors.
My enchanting evening climaxed with Strauss’s “Vienna Waltz” filling the hall.
Oh, what a tale I will have to tell as my granddaughter prepares for her first ball!


11-21-2014

Contest:      Your Favourite Old Poem (06-08-2015) 
Sponsor:      Shadow Hamilton
Placement:   1st

Contest:      Ballroom Delights (12-16-2014)
Sponsor:     Isaiah Zerbst
Placement:  2nd

Premium Member Mirror Ball

I'm sure this hill is where it stood.
Amazing shapes of stuccoed wood.
A glass-brick, neon stream-lined place.
As if it flew from outer space,

A swing band auditorium,
An Art Deco emporium,
When romance, innocent in pace,
From dancing to a teasing chase.

The town grew west in modern haste
And down it came, without a trace.
The war and culture's change in taste,
Predestined doom, the past erased.

The future sighs, with solemn face
The wrecking ball, the glittered waste
No plaque to read "Historic Sight".
The swirling dust, a dance goodnight.


Gene Bourne
08-01-14
.


Premium Member Golf Footle

The grass
alas
is shorn
like corn
the dew
eschews
forlorn
this morn

the crowd
avowed
the ball
and all
then groans 
and moans
clubs thrown
are known.

Embued
and hued
the words
like swords
wrong swing
the sting
bad lie
too high

the squeeze
on knees
in pleas?
to seize
the gold
and hold
glory
story

though droll
their goal 
control
cajole
that ball
to fall
or roll
in hole

August 22,2022
For Brian Strand's Premiere Choice Contest
FIRST PLACE TROPhy!
POEM OF THE WEEK!
© Ann Peck  Create an image from this poem.

My First Ball

As I walk through the doors of the hall,
I am swept off my feet by such flare.
When I think that tonight’s my first ball,
How I blush thinking thoughts I don’t dare.

Lovely music pours out of the room,
And my hips sway beneath my pink gown.
Mom’s eyes seek a potential bridegroom
Dad’s eyes stop, my swaying with a frown.

Ushered in the big room my eyes dance
As they rush over grandeur so bright
Chandeliers they brought over from France 
Fill the room bringing splendour and light

On the sidelines I can’t help but stare 
Pretty walls lined with roses and vines
Sweetest scents of Guerlains fills the air
As the ladies and gents sip their wines.

Fine madam’s gowns blend in with the walls
And the heavenly ceiling divine 
Pastel angels and blue waterfalls 
Someone begs me to dance just in time.

As we twirl on the dance floor I’m charmed
Looking into his eyes, I turn red
And I’m weak in this young man’s strong arms
Looking up angels spin round my head.

All too soon my first ball has to end
Sweetest dreams I shall cherish tonight
When I think of my newly found friend 
Just the thought of him brings such delight


Anapest Trimeter

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
11.27.2014
Sponsor Isaiah Zerbst
Contest: Ballroom Delights 
1st place

Premium Member The Old Ball Game

When I was a child,
summer at my Aunt Joanne’s
meant staying out as late as it took the sun to set!
And mostly with my cousin Chris,
I threw a baseball back and forth
with exhilaration each time I felt
the impact of Chris having thrown the ball
right smack in the center of my glove.

Chris’ dad, my Uncle Clifford, loved his baseball!
One time I remember
being loaded with the other kids into his old car,
summer wind blowing through my hair,
as he drove us to a game in Davenport.
Uncle Clifford used to play on that same diamond
where he took us to watch that game.

I wasn’t all that keen on it.
But the atmosphere was so lively.
Vendors selling hot dogs, cracker jacks, and candy -
this was my childhood delight!
I am sure I must have cheered 
for a team of which I knew absolutely nothing,
mimicking my elders there in the stadium
as wildly they called out their reactions to the game.

In school I played baseball myself,
standing like a statue in the outfield.
It was more exciting to watch my brother Dale from the stand,
those long hot summer afternoons as he played on his league.

It would be at least twenty years later
that I would sit and cheer for a baseball game again -
this time for my son in Little League.
Rooting for a loved one makes the game more alive for me!
Grimacing with every strike my son made;
standing up and going crazy when at last . . .
he knocked it out far into right field!
Glowing with pride that my son’s forte was as catcher
and watching him in all his gear behind home plate.

When I hear the old familiar song Take Me Out To the Ballgame,
it reminds me of the simple pleasures
of my youth,
a time when life was slower paced
and those summer days with my cousins.
America’s pastime, which has trained so many kids
to love being part of a team,
now seems to take a back seat to that rowdy sport called football.
But give ME a game I can follow,
a game that through time I came to love.
My Uncle Clifford has since passed away;
oh to spend one more day with him
at the old ball game.


Premium Member Play Ball

I have attempted to capture my favorite major league baseball players in this little shape poem of home plate. Included are (in no particular order):

Say Hey Willie Mays                        Walter Johnson (Big Train)
Randy Johnson (The Big Unit)          Babe Ruth (The Sultan Of Swat)
Tony Gwynn                                   Jimmie Foxx
Ted Williams                                   Maury Wills
Stan “The Man” Musial                     Johnny Bench                                 
Ken Griffey Jr                                 Greg Maddox                                  
Henry Aaron                                   Lou Gehrig                                     
Roberto Clemente                           Ty Cobb                                         
Satchell Paige                                 Ernie Banks                                   
Rickey Henderson                           Carl Yastrzemski (Yaz)                     
Trevor Hoffman                               Albert Pujols                                   
Gibson (Bob and Josh)                     Honus Wagner                                
Rogers Hornsby                              Cal Ripken                                      
Robinson (Jackie, Frank and Brooks)

Some favorites I had to leave out…

Christy Mathewson                          Warren Spahn
Sandy Koufax                                 Tom Seaver
Mickey Mantle                                 Rod Carew
Joe Morgan                                     Ozzie Smith
Mariano Rivera                                Miguel Cabrera
Pedro Martinez                                Ichiro Suzuki
David Ortiz                                      Jose Altuve                                     

I’d love to see your faves mentioned in the comments section!

written 24 Aug 2020
© John Watt  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Belle of the Ball

my new peach dress
so fastidiously pressed
in hope that a man will seek to caress

Strauss’s Blue Danube calls
reverberates through halls
streaming from Michelangelo walls

coy ladies smile 
bright eyes beguile
captivating men’s attention for a while

as gentlemen twirl them
I, a lone femme
feel humbled, an unwanted gem

but wait
a princely man approaches with rapid gait
pounding of my heart will not abate

laughter replaces loneliness this night
he leads me to the floor beneath candlelight
this welcome twist of fate feels so right

liberated, we dance
our prelude to romance
my heart receives another chance

swaying, he inhales my perfume
scent of gardenias in full bloom
with passion, we are both consumed

gaiety undulates in each step we take
if this is a dream, I dare not wake
such precious bliss I could never remake



*Written November 16, 2014

Premium Member Refrain On the Sixth - a Tiny Crystal Ball

Before you lies a tiny crystal ball.
Pick it up; feel it smooth and hard along your palm.
Can it speak to you? Stare into its icy depth.
Perhaps if you gaze long enough, you will see your future
cascading like a beautiful waterfall of dreams . . . or
a tiny crystal ball perhaps is all  you’ll ever see.

Based on picture #3

Written June 6, 2016 for THE BEST OF 6 Contest of nette onclaud

Premium Member The Belle of the Ball

My Christmas tree in sparkling dress
stands in my window to impress.
She smiles at all the passersby.
She waves hello.  She is not shy.

She winks at all the trees she sees
in nearby houses on the street.
She seems to shiver with delight
counting the minutes till midnight.

For one late hour wakened from sleep
through the dark house on slippered feet
I crept, while up, to catch a glance
of tinseled Christmas ambiance.

Outside the window daintily 
danced my glittering Christmas tree!
With others down the street and back!
They twirled around the cul-de-sac!

Amazed I gazed quiet and still,
propped against the window sill, till
tired but thrilled I left to resume
much needed rest in my bedroom.

I heard giggling in early light
when she slipped in and stood just right.
But, she leaves needles everywhere
and ornaments dropped here and there.

She’ll have her fun till New Year’s Day, 
then take a nap all tucked away.
Next year she’ll dress and dance again 
with all her many merry friends.


12/11/2018
© P.S. Awtry  Create an image from this poem.

Yellow Field of Wheat

First Placing : Poetry Marathon 2025
Sponsor: Mark Toney

 
{ FREEDOM  “We may want to linger, to stay, to arrest the flow and talk about it, photograph it, lyricize it. Yet this beauty is mercurial and we must let it go, for it is already slipping away to be replaced by the new.” -Stuart Sovatsky }

YELLOW FIELD OF WHEAT

Angel of Death skims blacker than tar
a skeletal knock overturning bowl of oats
smelling of frankincense and ashes
to carry you to a yellow field of wheat 
where you will dance radiant waltzes
haloed free

your laughter pranced across blue walls with 
Michael Jackson, Spider-Man, cheeky elves
relishing Kentucky Fried Chicken as you 
played scrabble with forlorn neighbour
bony body birthing revolutions of
roulette with green life and grey death

how you endured those precision needles
wanting to drum tapered fingers on 
waiting desk overflowing with car sketches
your thirteen year old bald head smiling 
veins on an enchanting spring moon as our
hidden tears crystallised hospital sheets

we tried to keep up with you scoffing
encyclopaedias, Dickens and muffins alike 
cancer like a chess game mastered chemo
doctors and nurses becoming kings or pawns
time was now or endless pathos stalking minds
Laurel and Hardy keeping hearts unlocked

on Merlin’s star-patterned couch you will 
jokingly converse with Pele and his team
soccer ball silent under quiescent table
my ink cannot pen sad lines as I feel 
your lips still sucking dripping nipple
freedom moonwalks on a 
yellow field of wheat

After the Ball

Confetti collecting 
on strawberry blondes
swigging champagne
from the dusk 
till the dawn,
Sleeping in corners
where ever they fall,
like sad
Cinderellas
too long
 at the 
Ball.

Premium Member Can We Have Our Ball Back Please

O my Lord, I hope you don’t see man as virus or disease
This bright blue globe you gave us faces such profound unease
We’re told that we will drown or burn though some of us will freeze
And only you can save us… can we have our ball back please

We drive our cars and fly in planes for holidays on skis
And now they tell us that we’ve brought our planet to its knees
We’re gonna catch the sun and stick up windmills in the breeze
Which feels like ‘fingers-crossed’ so, can we have our ball back please

We make it, break it, use it up
We throw it in the trash
And then we buy another one
Cos all it costs is cash
But now it seems our number’s up
We’ve been a little rash
This Earth unlike the phoenix
May not rise up from the ash

Another storm has ripped up houses, bridges, cars and trees 
The sewers overflowed into the rivers and the seas
But now we’re in a heatwave and it’s thirty-five degrees
It’s really rather hot so can we have our ball back please

The scientists keep saying we eat too much meat and cheese
They tell us we can all survive on lentils, beans and peas 
Which won’t achieve too much when just a few of us agrees
And so I have to ask you, can we have our ball back please

We make it, break it, use it up
We throw it in the trash
And then we buy another one
Cos all it costs is cash
But now it seems our number’s up
We’ve been a little rash
This Earth unlike the phoenix
May not rise up from the ash

This thing that’s wrong with planet Earth is killing bugs and bees
And coral reefs have had their day in many far off seas
Though governments may talk a lot, they never hear our pleas
Their taxes will not save us… can we have our ball back please

We leave our oil and gas right there beneath the sands and seas
Then ship more in with diesel fumes and importation fees
We’re gonna catch the sun and stick up windmills in the breeze
Which feels like ‘fingers-crossed’ so, can we have our ball back please 

We make it, break it, use it up
We throw it in the trash
And then we buy another one
Cos all it costs is cash…
To save the world we’re armpit deep
In net zero decrees
But only you can save us… 
Can we have our ball back please

Premium Member Garden Ball

kaleidoscope waltz
blossom of beautiful skirts
spirited florals

Premium Member Dad's Last Ball Game

Being the shortest in my high school gym class
Attempts to play basketball brought no success
Broke my finger while trying to catch a pass
Leaping to take balls from tall girls? What a mess!

Always loved football, baseball and soccer too
But in basketball I succumbed to defeat
Just couldn’t get into it, that is true
Till Dad took me to see the Miami Heat

Startled he was, watching me jump up and down
Although my enthusiasm was contrived
The cheers of other fans my loud voice did drown
This was the last time I saw my Dad alive

I’m so thankful now that I went to that game
Dad was so grateful for these moments we shared
When I watch basketball now, it’s not the same
It was Dad and not the sport for which I cared



*Entry for Deb’s “Play Ball” contest

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