Best Beaus Poems
Unruffled beauties
float in boats rowed by their beaus
one warm Georgia day.
With fragile paper-white hands,
they fold their fans at twilight.
For the One New or Old Tanka Poetry Contest of Rick Parise
My lover sent me a pretty red rose,
Knowing it is my favorite bloom.
He is the most considerate of beaus.
I held it with its fragrance to my nose.
The lovely scent seemed to fill up the room.
My lover sent me a pretty red rose.
A slow sniff tingled me from head to toes.
Petals are perfect, there's no need to groom.
He is the most considerate of beaus.
I love the gorgeous flower that he chose.
It truly makes my lovesick heart go boom.
My lover sent me a pretty red rose.
I dream of him and rose when my eyes close.
My rose will comfort me when troubles loom
He is the most considerate of beaus.
I pinned it to the collar of my clothes,
The rose so red it penetrates the gloom.
My lover sent me a pretty red rose.
He is the most considerate of beaus.
Written 6/18/16
I have two sisters whom I love and adore
We are poets who can write of blood and gore.
Evil, Wicked, and Demented are our nicknames
Being fun and shocking is a few of our games.
Evil, for that, is I
Has had enough people lie
And tell me of their fearful woes
To only find they were only foes.
Evil has an "evil" mind
That can deliciously find
What may not be normal to some
To me can be quite exquisite fun.
Wicked is learning to find
Her very own peace of mind.
That man with a black soul
Her heart he had done stole.
Wicked's mind is so "wickedly" twisted
That her vengeance can't be listed.
But make no idiotic mistake
She can strike you just like a snake.
Demented is the one who knows
How to reel in all the beaus.
She can smile so delightfully sweet
And men seem to just fall at her feet.
Her mind is the most bizarre
She can be the evilest by far.
On her face, you will see a beautiful smile
While inside "demented" schemes most vile.
We are each who we are
All a particular shining star
Separately a Libra, Capricorn, and Leo
Collectively, we are The Haunted Trio.
There is that barn again
The red peeling paint shouts
Old worn gray tired it says
Memories running track
Back in the fourties when
Youth did reign rule really
When the paint was new red
Dancing and prancing here
Singing joy fiddle plays
Squares were formed to music
Kicked up her heels in time
Red paint new drew her beaus
Well now that tired worn look
Only need new coat_paint
The boxing, leaping mad March hares
That chase and dash in umpteen pairs,
That tear through fields, and hare up hills -
All jealous Jacks, or Jacks and Jills
(The femme fatales, the luckless beaus)?
But are they crazy? No one knows…
Momma always told me,
"Children should be seen but not heard."
'Til I streaked through her Garden Party
And muttered not a word.
Momma always told me,
"The best birth control is an aspirin held tight between your knees."
But my boyfriends ALL had headaches!
Glad I put their heads at ease!
Momma always told me,
"They won't buy the cow if they get the milk for free,"
So I never served my best beaus milk,
Just liquor, wine and me!
Poor momma had another saying,
"You'll be the death of me!"
Momma, you were always right!
There was arsenic in that tea.
7/1/15
A picturesque scene revels in snow
As the snow globe turns skaters whirl
Arm in arm with their handsome beaus
A picturesque scene revels in snow
Lighted houses lined up in rows
Welcome mats 'pon verandas unfurl
A picturesque scene revels in snow
As the snow globe turns skaters whirl
Sponsor: Brian Strand
December 05, 2014
There was young lady named Hannah,
Courted by beaus from Savannah,
As a real good Southern girl
Didn't surrender her pearl
Even when groped on the veranda.
They met
Love set
Passion
Ration
One night
Just right
Egg rent
Pregnant
Grows fine
Months, nine
No room
In womb
One morn
Girl born
Healthy
Wealthy
Mum, Dad
So glad
Joy flows
She grows
First tooth
Marks youth
Cute child
Bit wild
A's bid
Bright kid
Teens rule
High school
College
Knowledge
Great job
Chuck Schwab
Nice perk
Hard work
No beaus
Propose
Time, past
Gone fast
Turn page
Mid-age
Lumps, hers
Cancers
Treatments
Intense
Fight's tough
Too rough
Such pain
Wits wane
Folks come
Cry some
Tears swirl
Their girl
Wet eyes
Goodbyes
Hands held
Hearts meld
Last breath
Come, death
Kiss cheek
Soft, meek
Dress, best
Laid rest
Dad, Mum
So glum
Child gone
Fair fawn
Last toil
Life's coil
Joy hewn
Too soon
Turn, leave ...
Now grieve
Man, wife
That's life
Wheels turn
Live ... learn.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Fabulous Fun Footles" Poetry Contest, Jan Allison, Judge & Sponsor.
Couples marry; it's tradition
Since the beginning of time
Our children would do the same
While in their youthful prime
Handsome, intelligent, employed
Would be their choicest beaus
No ills would befall a safe home
Established in love that grows
Into a heart entered a love
A beau with mutant genes
Carrier of Huntington's
Disease that stole all esteem
As tradition would have it happen
A child would come their way
Innocent was the baby boy
That in the cradle lay
As great grandparents cuddled him
Never did they expect
Such a fate would entangle, hold;
And people would reject
Thirteen innocent years God granted
Then his joy was taken away
He knew that he was a defect
Hope disappeared to stay
At age thirteen when Cody's dad was diagnosed with HD then Cody knew
he could come down with the illness..He was tested at 18 and he had the
gene..He now at 29 has the early stages of the disease..Longevity expected 10 years..God could intervene our only hope at this time..
Unfinished..Don't know exactly how to go forward yet
Long long ago in the land of milk and honey
Lived this sweetie who had a big batch of money
Quite popular with the beaus
After her money I suppose
Told them, “eat my shorts!” this gal was no dummy
© Jack Ellison 2015
In an Inn, Pierre pared a pear which came in a pair
But his butt is wack’s coz he whacks the wax one first
That he won, son of a gun, under the fare sun at the fair.
Yet he needed Ann the witch, who kneaded and was well versed,
With sects of belles and beaus who have sex, wearing bells
And bows. Back in the Inn, the merry witch Mary,
Planned to marry off two halves of an ogre, using spells;
She chanted hoo and oohs, too, until the ooze from a fairy
Brewed a brood of eight, plus the maid, that Ann the witch ate.
Who could have guessed that her twice four guests
Who lived on a ferry and made wax fruits and fake cakes;
Yet for odd reasons, buried berries with awls, fore all evil quests.
For Homo's Only Contest
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!
The only way out of all marriages is a divorce. It's been haunting the lives of soon-to-be
ex-husbands and ex-wives for some time to come. Everybody knows that all marriages will
end in divorce because of either infidelity, money problems, or parental issues. These
ex-couples are fighting over everything: the kids, money, who gets the house, and the
cars. It seems that all divorced couples can't make up their minds on who gets what, so
there's divorce courts and stuff. Even as I speak, the children are unhappy about their
divorce; it will alter the future. There's also alimony payments being ordered by the
judges in all of the divorce courts, especially when either the mother or the father gets
custody of the children and he or she will have no choice but to pay child support. How
sad is that? Now that these two people (a male and a female) are no longer married,
they'll have to cope with being the ex-husbands, the ex-wives, their new beaus (boyfriends
and girlfriends), different living arrangements, everything. There's something wrong with
former married couples today: they just don't know when to solve all of their problems
without ever getting a divorce. It's bad enough that the former in-laws will have to deal
with the fact that their sons-in-law and daughters-in-law are no longer married. And if
all of the divorces keep increasing and these children get more upset than ever in the
near future, there's no telling what bad thing might happen next.
beauties
unruffled
on a steamy day
float in boats rowed by their beaus
white silken hands folding their fans at sunset