Best Blonds Poems
Spring
A refresh of rain, falling down on them all
Un-quenching each leaf with tilt refrain
Linden shaped blossoms in spring do install
Such beautiful heaven that no one can maim
The burst of an orange, a tulip in bloom
Infusion of flowers, by meadow's festoon
The shine of an orchid, ever so stark,
It stays on my mind, long after dark
The Rose brings her beauty, as I swift appraise
And summer goes trailing with fever, her blaze
Summer
Heat waves arrive, wearing red flaming scarves
Bronzed cherub angels, by cool fountain spout
Yellow kissed flowers by summer's head count
The dahlias in love, with passions, don't starve
Bikinis and tank tops with summer tanned legs
Atop the hot board walk, skip trampling keds
Bleach blonds and ravens in tune with the fair
Coasters and bolsters and times without care
It's all in the season of sunshine and thrills
Where fireworks burst, o'er emerald hills!
Autumn
The seasons pass as my eyes behold
Soft change in hues when bending limbs grow bare
As colored leaves turn brown begin to fold
To finally scatter into Autumn's air
These days remembered on a road of leaves
Traveling aspen groves ablaze in gold
A Winter's chill before the Autumn grieves
Reminds that all life ends before its cold
And calls in voice its yearly subtle dance
As songs from birds now give a quiet note
While those in love hope colors will enhance
To feel chill from Winter when color dies
To bless the fallen leaves with sadder eyes
Winter
The Winter's cold comes dressed in velvet white
And spills its unique flakes upon the Earth
Scenes of beauty calm, open eye's delight
And cleanse the ground before the Spring's rebirth
I'll walk upon the freshest fallen snow
And see the trail of prints I leave behind
While knowing it reveals the path I go
I'll make a snowy Angel some will find
To cross the banks of white where depth is low
And sit among the quiet, Winter's brought
To see the landscape clean with softest glow
Shall bring to me another gentle thought
I'll lift my eyes to find a pictured scene
And marvel at the white that is pristine
written by Mystic Rose & Frederic Parker
9/20/14
The color of my hair,
is reddish blonde,
some people say,
blonds have more fun.
I wouldn't know,
for this is not me,
the red is to obvious,
like my rosy red cheeks.
Everything I wear,
has red somewhere,
maybe the buttons,
or a ribbon placed with care.
I love the sunsets,
with their reddish glow,
I blend right in,
from head to toe.
The flower of my choice,
I guess you know by now,
yes, the red, red roses,
when spring comes around.
When I die,
and I rest in peace,
my silky red pajamas,
will cover me.
This morning's sidewalk is cold and gray,
traffic sparse.
Coffee awaits, if my secretary remembers.
My head circulating thoughts from a case,
I reluctantly took on yesterday.
I'm usually more particular,
I don't like cases involving blonds and their men,
but, I needed the money.
As I enter my office, the strong odor of coffee hits me,
she remembered, this time.
The steam was rising from the pot,
the widows were also steaming,
with lines of water rolling down each pane.
We need curtains.
Julie my secretary says I have a visitor,
a blond, same one from yesterday.
Says she's wearing a single gold earring,
dried blood on the other ear.
I toss my fedora on Julie's typewriter,
with a not to be disturbed look.
Closed the door.
She was pacing back and forth,
trying not to look up.
Says when she got home she found an ashtray,
filled with cigarette butts, some with lipstick,
two empty glasses and a half filled bottle of whiskey,
sitting next to an airline ticket to Hong Kong,
for a flight at midnight.
They argued, he slapped her a few times, until,
a shot came through the front window.
She's frightened, frightened of the police,
frightened of the truth, both run through my head.
I told her to stay here until I find some things out.
But, it will cost another couple of hundred.
After all I am a detective.
My name, Humphrey M Falcon.
contest Copped III
Daddy's Little Daughter Grows UP
Mama some boy at school called me a dumb blond
And I hit him
He said blonds are only good for one thing
Can you believe that mama
I was furious, so furious mama
My father would have been so proud, so very proud
Of me if he were still alive
Mama, I hit him again
This time really, really good
I may have broken his nose
Or I least I hoped so
Mama get this,
He looked at me with those big brown eyes
Tears pooling
Mama I hit him again
He tried to say sorry
He was like a newborn puppy at my feet
Looking up at me with those floppy ears of his
With his tounge and tail wagging ... mama
And his voice stuck way down in his throat
So painful
So pathetic
So powerful I am,
I stood my ground to that bully, mama
Yes I did
Yes I did
Mama I hit him again
He said he was sorry, and this time I think he meant it
But I didn't care
He was crying uncontrollable
Unconditionally
I laughed
I blew him a kiss
I said if ever did that again, he would be very sorry
He tried to get up mama
Mama he tried to get up
And I raised my arms, as to hit him again
But I didn't
Our eyes met mama
I think he likes me
I could see the bruises on his face
But I was melting fast by his heat
Even in his worst disposition
He was magic, magnetic
He pulled my heartstrings
I like him mama
I really do
He's different
He's cute and funny
I know I'm only eleven
And boys my age only want one thing
But mama look at me, put those potatoes down
Mama look at me, put those potatoes down I said
This is important, mama
He asked me to go out to the school dance this Friday
Mama, I said yes,
Mama I said yes
My heart pounding
I'm happy
I'm going to the bunny hop with him
Yes I am mama
I know I'm only eleven
And boys my age only want one thing
But mama...listen
Mama he will be a gentlemen to me
You'll see
You can bet on that mama
You can bet on that
Yes you can
For this girl is nobody's mule
Dad would have been proud
connie pachecho
December 27, 2016
She got a bad rap for she was a blond
But this one couldn't be fooled or conned
He claimed he loved her and she believed
Till she found out she was being deceived
She caught him there with his pants down
He'd taken her for an inept clown
Cheating was one thing she couldn't abide
There was no place for him to hide
It hurt her badly but she was strong
To stay with him would just be wrong
A wiser blond now she left him tattered
Knowing her self respect's what mattered
So don't be thinking all blonds are stupid
She's got your number,you wily Cupid!
anagram for DEBRA WILSON= A WISER BLOND
By the way I always have spelled it-BLONDE but in Webster's Dictionary it is spelled both ways !
for contest"Anagramatically Speaking"
sponsored by oink!a limp okra
***I personally don't indulge in "soothing weed"
but the Dutch and many others certainly do***
Amsterdam
Dynamic charm along many contradictions encompass Amsterdam
House boats festoon canal while tenants toast wine and love Edam
True blue blonds cranking bikes synchronize pace crossing a bridge
Stoned laird hears enlightened souls chant verse perched on ledge
Safe from surging water churches dominate rooftops ogling a tram
Finely carved architecture tower above bars serving eggs and ham
Cafes offer soothing weed dazzling each mortal with such privilege
Fueling dreams of nirvana minds invoke desire to sharpen its edge
Penned: 06/16/2017
12:34 a.m.
Aboard cruise liner: Vision Of The Seas
Docked in Amsterdam, Holland
Dandom Randomness
What else will I see out of my story?
I’ve seen a guy blown away.
Where’s my guinea pig?
In the boarded up pub in the fog.
Your film is so yesterday,
full of sex and violence.
One foot man no boot.
It’s dark when the flash bulbs go out.
Frick brutality embrace toe kissing.
I’ve no time for four false Gods.
You gotta be real.
We worship one another.
You photograph roundabouts,
I snap lampposts.
Mailbox in desert.
No, there are eight.
Blonds are from tomorrow.
For the price of the wind.
You’re so paranoid.
Have you thought it’s the company you keep?
Point course correction to where?
Ninjas in the dustbin lorries.
The spires take a patchwork of blonds,
The pavements, a not-so-shiny copper,
To the harbour go a few drops of bronze,
Even clouds get but a listless amber,
Though when long day is growing old,
The sun, parting, never forgets to rain
On you, on no other, a splurge of gold.
He said you’re cute
She said so are you
He said I like blonds
She said me too
She said would you like to find a quiet place to talk
He said I know a place down the block
Noticing what she had not before said I’ll have to decline
Your left hand implies someone might mind
Viva Las Venus
Just got back from Venus
It's a secret, don't ask how
I really mean it
You know, government and all
I am going to tell you though
Most of what I seen
Oh, remember that fella Elvis?
Yep, he's still the king
With a planet full of women
Big, short, skinny, long and tall
Brunette, red head, black and brown
Don't worry guys, there's plenty of blonds
Most men would call it heaven
And give their right arm as a witness
Flying there at any cost
Which brings me back to Elvis
You see Elvis was never much keen on
All of that fortune and fame
He did it all with a purpose
Allow me here to explain
Being a shy kid from the country
For entertainment he'd read comic books
Read one once about the Women of Venus
And that right there was all that it took
He borrowed an old beat up guitar
Figured he could make a few bucks
He'd build a rocket ship out in the barn
And leave on the day it was ready to launch
But alas fame and fortune took him by storm
As his music and charm did us
Being caught up in it all for years to come
He'd just have to wait for his trip to Venus
Of course over time it got overwhelming
As his mind ventured back to the ship
Down on the farm still hold up in the barn
The only solution...fake his own death
And that's where today you'll find him
Viva Las Venus my friend
Elvis in a world of women
Where he still reigns as king
39 years ago today marks the anniversary of the tragic death of Elvis...
but we know the truth don't we.
Trapped within my inability to let go
Will I reach my goal and will I know
I relentlessly pursue my own happiness
Or will I end up in hapless duress
I will not let myself think of failure
In this way I will know how to feel sure
Also try only to think of the positives
And I always want to be a man that gives
I think I have wriggled free of my bonds
Some think that I am partial to blonds
Really I like all shades of hair
Just looking for someone to be there
Never stop looking for your soul mate
We all just need the patience to wait
If you truly believe you will find yours
Even if you have to get down on all fours
No more snares or bonds to hold me
I broke them all and got free
The chains that held me are broken
And now I can be outspoken
Now that I am not ensnared
Everything I do can be shared
You can read me like a book
Just turn the page and look
Apart from the worn stone-step
where drunks still topple
all has changed.
Now a neon glow backlights a plasticized fascia.
In the in the parking lot two blonds face-off.
one has extra-large ear bangles,
and she rattles like a Zulu warrior,
fingers stabbing through cuss-words.
Youths shout
over the clomping-thump
of their car radios.
I used to come here often
I explain to my incredulous wife.
“Good times”, I say unconvincingly.
She won't go in, but I have to pee.
Inside there’s a blaze of corporate ersatz.
In the cramped `gents’,
a die-hard seediness persist.
There’s an old-time essence
of Borax and Vanish..
A condom dispenser (a peeling relic),
links me to a few beery memories.
I need just to tip off my hat to inspire
this palest of blonds in her bristling fire
From glints in her eyes which force me to smile
to dreams she lays out like a feast.
I wish to be near her and wander her presence
from every word which becomes every sentence
From family to friend in a spark of an instant
this sister of mine is complete.
All of your dreams are quite safe with me
I'll fill up my hat with you eternally
From moonshine to cold in our hair in the city
we memorize every street.
Let's always promise to keep this connection
of just you and me and a night of perfection
From winter's embrace to our laughing reflections
Replacing my hat, I'm complete.
Sometimes,
a guy just wants a peroxide blonds
with painted ruby red lips.
Something fake and pretty
sexy would help also.
He said this leaning on the counter
with his elbows
while ogling the barmaid.
I looked into my foaming beer
recalling all the authentic, lovely,
unpainted women I had known
and said:
Yea.
Fair Lady
Brown, hazel, green eyes and blue. God made the descendants
of Europe beautiful too.
Brunettes and blonds,
Reds, highlights - various disguises.
Displaying God’s beauty
in various shapes and sizes.
God made us all beautiful in his sight.