Best Belle Poems
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
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree—
A belle crooning nature’s glee,
Splendorous as seasons’ glory.
A ballad of resplendent spring
In stanzas cherry-blossom pink
Uplifting moods of lovers
Lost in heart-shaped leaves
Fluttering soft lavender breeze
Arousing romantic appeal
In fuchsia hues of redbud trees.
A verse of feisty summer winds
Swaying beats of majestic oak
Rustling big-leaf maple trees
Hosting dance of perky sparrows
Choreographing mating tempo--
Magnolia’s white blooms evoke.
A lyric of autumn’s aspirations
Scripting chorus in blazing colors,
Red, orange, purple, yellow,
On maple, hickory, birch, sycamore,
Strumming strings of alluring refrains--
Rhythms waltzing fervid meadows.
A cadent song of winter’s chill
Shuddering vibes of barren trees
Yet, charmingly pretty as can be
When snowflakes gently falling
Invoke tunes of season’s greetings
Crowning tips of ornamental twigs
As hearts’ melodies merrily sing.
February 7, 2020
Placed 1st: Famous poetic lines 2 poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
“I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree” by Joyce Kilmer
HM: Strand select H contest by Brian Strand
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
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
There's a lady I know as pretty as primrose,
With innocence of soul,
how I know ----
None whom has walked this wide world 'ere
more lovely than her dimmest delicacy;
The sweet of lavender envious in her passing....
the King-Rose longs her deeper crimson lush,
and divorce he the earth, to marry her but a day;
And death dare not take her
lest he die in her love,
For holy her heart,
where the angels take leave
to but watch mere glimpses of her beauteous art;
with eternal pledges the very ground 'neath her feet
hallowed with heals,
Her wind as cherubin lungs to fill the sails of saints,
a messiah for Epicurus ----
for no ail shall last long in her soothing shadow;
Nay,
the sun shall not shine
with same vibrance in her leaving,
But the stars align with her remembrance,
and God in all His glory more joyful for her making;
For He made her from His finest silks
and honeys from heaven.....
a mentor for Venus,
(ma belle femme)
Sweet and charming in everything I do or say
Outspoken when it is called for
Unique in my own right as I am sassy too
Talks with an accent that some like
Hospitable to each and everyone
Enjoys being a flirt
Really knows how to charm
Never gives away my inner most thoughts
Beautiful in my own right
Each day is another day to be
Learns manners early on
Lady like in all the public sees
Eloquent even when I do not want to be
Dear Southern Gals
Savannah - oh honey
You beautiful Belle
Your locks long and loose
And silver as well
Muted mementos
Of suffering of pain
Of tears you have wept
Long rivers of rain
Georgia - oh honey
You dear southern Belle
Your story is cruel
And shameful as well
Your tresses have witnessed
In somber green gray
The heartbreak the pain
The ship of that day
Oh Savannah oh Georgia
You dear Southern Belles
We hear you forever
Plead guilty as well
Now savour your beauty
The new dawn can’t wait
Start combing your hair
It’s time for a braid
Nicole de Jager April 2018
Outside the walls stood a handmaiden gazing
Twisting her skirt between fingers so frail
Patches of burlap were sewn on the garment
Cut from a sack of a barley oat bale
Oh how she dreamed of the opulent palace
Silver and gold and the finest of lace
Gowns made of velvet with ribbons of satin
She spun around with a smile on her face
As if a princess, her blonde hair a flowing
Blue skies above now the tint of her eyes
Hearing a song on the early spring breezes
Never once noticed the coming surprise
Then saw him on horseback and blushed like a petal
Found on the reddest of roses that grew
Knee bent to curtsey, feeling embarrassed
Knowing this gesture is what she should do
“Good day my fair maiden, your dance was enchanting”
He said as he smiled, his kindness was felt
“So sorry my prince, I did not see you coming”
Again on the soil before him she knelt
“Rise up,” he said as he slid from the saddle
“There is no need for such formality,
for one of such beauty tis I who should bow”
Saying this he touched the earth with one knee
Once more she blushed like an apricot sunrise
Standing he reached out and taking her hand
Wondered, “What brings you by here on this morning,
adding such loveliness to our fine land?”
“Your majesty, I’m but a servant daydreaming,
Seeing myself quite the belle of the ball
Very much childish I know you are thinking
For I belong far outside this great wall”
He pondered a moment, his chin now he fondled
Suddenly grinned with the happiest glance
“Well now fair maiden, if thou would permit me
Please be my guest at this evening’s spring dance?”
“Oh handsome prince I could not even think it
Look at my dress, I have nothing to wear
Merely these rags and an old pair of high tops
Never to mention the state of my hair”
“Never you mind and I kind of like high tops
Maybe some jeans and a tank top in red
Pull your hair back and it will be perfect
Nothing you’ll need when we climb into bed”
“What’s that you say, you want sex after dancing
Beat it you creep, I’m abreast of your game
I’ll spread these legs not for anyone fancy
Damn it, you men, every one is the same”
As he departed, rejected and sneering
She stomped away feeling angry and mean
So here you find such an unhappy ending
The truth is she only had eyes for the queen
My beautiful girl...
How sweet her soft symphonies,
My love... how she makes me swoon;
when the moon was full...
and love was in her eyes
Too tender her delicate embraces,
as I if to meld her soul in mine;
her sweet laughter...
how she adores my every glance,
time would stand still...
on an autumn night, how red her lips,
to kiss...softly, and to expect nothing more,
than her wondrous love...
My soul sings her name for an age eternal,
I hath given myself to her she-beauty;
my Queen! My Lady to none other than I...
my pledge a thousand glories over;
life is always sweet in her flower for me
An envy of the world I am ---
that she be only mine...
when her world is dark,
she shines my light;
love shall be our lamp to smite the monsters;
and the shadows, no more lonely do they look,
(for she is always there)
And beauty hath adorned her name...
(Ma Belle Femme Jolie)
At first, I wasn't quite sure it was Her, and then, I felt Her warm breath blow ever so gently across my skin and heard the trickling sound of running water fleeing Winter's icy grip. And I caught a whiff of Her unique perfume lingering on a fresh breeze, a rich, earthy aroma befitting Nature's favorite daughter. She slowly dipped Her brush into a rainbow palette and dappled color onto Winter's canvas of white, unfurling trillions of leaves to green the tops of trees. She is the Goddess for whom the birds sing, an artist extraordinaire, and the giver of life. And I, for one, welcome Spring with open arms, enchanted by Her inculpable beauty, genteel grace, and friendly, flirtatious southern-belle charm.
melting into spring
icicles shrink drop by drop...
winter bleeds water
(Haibun)
3/15/2021
Springtime Haibun Contest Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: M. L. Kiser
There once was a girl,
Who's name I can't tell.
To spare her the pain,
I'll just call her Belle.
Belle was a beauty
And all the beasts could see,
She was everything in a girlfriend
That they wanted theirs to be.
Belle was so trusting,
Because she was never treated wrong,
But little did she know that
Her innocence wouldn't last long.
She had two friends,
Sasha and Trevor,
And a boyfriend that she thought
She'd love forever.
Her boyfriend, Sam,
And Trevor were friends.
So this fearsome foursome
Had fun to no end.
The youngest of the four
But the smartest, she thought.
But what a friend was
Was not what she was taught.
Trevor and Belle
Would hang out all day.
She would try to be like him
In her own boyish way.
You see, the Trevor I speak of
Was King of the Beasts
And everything he wanted
Was laid at his feet.
And, although curious,
Belle stayed true to Sam
And that made Trevor feel
That he was less of a man.
One day, in a summer
5 years ago,
Belle told me something
I needed to know.
She told me what happened
The day that she ran.
The day that will forever
Be burned in the sand.
She told me what happened
When she looked over her shoulder
And saw him walking towards her
As the room grew colder.
She told me her tears
Were no match to his power.
She told me what made this beast
A coward.
She told me she screamed
And hollered and yelled
But her cries were soon muffled
By his lips, dry and pale.
She told me how she felt
The day that she was bruised.
Never in her life
Had she felt so used!
I asked her why she didn't fight
Or get tough like she does on the field.
She just said I'd never know the
Weakness that I would feel.
I couldn't help but to cry for her
As she blamed herself.
Belle had always wanted to be
The beauty on everyone's shelf.
"But not like that," she said to me,
"Not with one of my friends."
She let a tear roll down her face
As she spoke of her life's end.
Some may ask why'd she tell me;
"What made her come to you?"
I simply look at them and say,
"You don't know Belle like I do."
I know this story in great detail
And if you look real close you'll see
The tear I shed while writing this
Because...Belle is me.
I am a dreamer literally for I dream a lot
With most of them remembered, few of them forgot.
My dreams are always based in reality,
Although quite mixed up they often tend to be.
But this particular dream I had just yesterday,
Was different from all the rest, I have to say.
I've never dreamed before of a fantasy creature;
Never before has fantasy entered as a feature.
It seems, in my dream I had a unicorn,
The cutest little horse with a little horn.
She was pure white like I've never seen,
Whiter than the snow, all fresh and clean.
Perfectly proportioned, rather small in size,
Maybe seven hands at her withers, I would surmise.
She knew she held a place confirmed in my heart.
She was a delight to watch and so very smart.
Her soft and low nickering never let me fear
Her presence was very far but always close and near.
She'd nuzzle me gently for treats and for pets.
Such a joy to me, she brought me no regrets.
The center of attention she really loved to be
And all her little antics were amusing to see.
Her moves so graceful, a ballerina couldn't beat;
She pranced like there was air underneath her feet.
She would stamp her little foot, toss her head around,
Let her little haunches drop 'til they met the ground.
Then her little muzzle she would lift up towards the sky,
As she'd neigh the cutest whinny with a pitch rather high.
I loved to hear her whinny, a delight to my ear
And she would whinny, be expecting then to hear
A response from me in the language that she spoke,
But as I replied with a whinny, sadly I awoke.
Now I'm left to wonder why she came to me
In a dream so surreal, as though reality.
A reason for I seek, since my dreams often do foretell,
But about this one I am puzzled of my little Uni-Belle.
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2018-04-05 23:55:00 (EDT)
All rights reserved.
The sweet neck of her life came adorned with dazzling jewels of the ages;
jewels imbued with holy virtues, long before she was born.
She rose, alone, Venus veiled above a sparkling sea,
her love light flashing wherever she gazed.
As she spun her cosmic spiral, a tiger, hungry with anger and bitterness,
tore at the veil, hoping to claim victory—fire and passion.
Each time she dipped her head, trying to free herself from the ships of ancient
torments that lay anchored at her throat, the tiger roared for more,
devouring jewel upon jewel—fire upon fire, passion upon passion.
She lay, alone, her carotid adornment shortened by the tiger’s every move,
her virtues struck down until she was left grasping at a choker
‘round her throat, her life soon to end.
Then, in the billowing clouds of her torment, she saw Diana rising from the sea.
She stood on an iridescent ivory shell, her arrow poised to strike.
The tiger raged, but could not pierce the clouds.
A red fury filled with fire and passion shot from its hell-born eyes;
its massive jaws spewed hot saliva that set the sea on fire.
The sea itself cried out, “Golden Diana, make your arrow swift and sure;
the world in Venus is quickly fading.
Strike now, the tiger, and restore all aright!”
Even while the prayer was being uttered,
Diana’s aim proved its power as the arrow found the tiger’s heart.
In a flash, Venus was restored,
her long strand of jewels aglow,
the tiger at her side.
Together they stood in a deep, iridescent ivory shell
and made their way out to sea
with a wind that was sure and true.
All was set aright. All was free
as they sailed into the rising moon,
her Venus jewels lighting the way.
Written in contemplation of Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee around a
Pomegranate, One Second before Awakening, by Salvador Dali. (1944)
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
C’est ton heureux anniversaire
Mon amie, ma copine, ma commère
Il m’est impossible de t’envoyer des fleurs
Et je ne peux pas t’écrire de jolis poèmes
Cependant je peux te souhaiter du bonheur
Avec toute ma force et avec tout mon cœur.
Parfois, on ne peut pas vider tout le contenu
De la vase, comme on ne peut marcher tout nu
Dans les rues essaimées de charmantes femmes
Puisqu’on est limité et on a qu’une pauvre âme
On peut simplement mesurer ses vives émotions
Femme ! Oh ! Mémère, je me noie dans la passion.
C’est ton joyeux anniversaire
Mon amie, ma flamme, ma commère
Je te souhaite de tout mon cœur
Santé et des arcs-en-ciel de bonheur
Que la Providence te bénisse avec abondance
Et que la vie te soit des jours et nuits de vacances.
P.S. Translation ' It's Your Happy Birthday, Gorgeous Old Lady'.
Copyright © Mars 2022, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs livres de poésie.