Best Cotillion Poems
I twist evermore past a cotillion of meteors
Spreading plumes across unknown rhythm;
A mad swivel with myself, thrilling my essence
In a hanging motion of a dip…I find myself alone
on the floor; my hem gathering night’s stardust.
And the saxophonist gazes at me from afar,
he smiles,
then disappears.
Dancing With Contest
Sponsor: Giorgo V.
by nette onclaud
Debutantes with secret lives of crimson
could drink and smoke much more than anyone,
dressed in ivory postbellum fashion
sable coats, charcoal tuxes by the ton.
In and out of shadows obsidian
debs and escorts waltzed like porcelain toys,
social ceremony called cotillion
guarantee of attention from the boys.
Ash of Roses with absinthe leaves bouquet
trembling soft in their clutching white gloved hand.
A graceful bow one Midnight moon in May
and honored parents thought the time was grand.
Cerulean flashes blinded young eyes
in days when truth was buried with disguise.
10/17/17
Ash of Roses Absinthe Cerulean Charcoal Crimson Ivory Obsidian Porcelain Sable Smoke
Midnight Romance Contest
Scrumptious sight of prairies and grass
Ardent beaming of flower buds and buzzing bees
Leafless coils, branches of trees become alive
Hastening! Arousing everyone's joy and vive
Everyone happy on cheerful springtime!
A cotillion trips and chirps of jolly birds
From some distance, I have started to heard
Fantastic shun and kisses of pretty butterflies
Tempting all species of flora and fauna to thrive
Welcoming, beckoning the heat of summertime!
First crisp of breeze, creating dew in morning
Canopy of red and orange leaves from branches, enchanting!
Turning the world into a canvass of nature's brush
Unnoticeable, such romantic dash making anyone blush
Revel, embrace the sweet amorous season of autumn!
Solid chilling raindrops of snowflakes
Giving warning: careful during breaks
Covering branches, bringing icy cold aches
Yet, skiing an exhilarating cool escape
Delight in the coolness ambiance of winter!
BY
olive_eloi
2:22 pm
02/26/2014
CONTEST: MEMORIES ON BRANCHES
SPONSOR: GAIL ANGEL DOYLE
4TH PLACE
Autumn
Chilled breezes blow.
Warm firesides glow.
Pumpkins
Orange and round
Litter the ground.
Skies
Hold November rains.
Soak gentle plains.
Maple Trees
Dress in vermillion.
It’s autumn’s cotillion.
Children
Wear shiny costumes.
Huge harvest moons.
Turkeys
Many to die.
Hear them cry.
11/11/18
Six-Word Couplet Series Encore
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Their fluttering starts in moonlight
When Luna reaches zenith height
She croons as butterflies take flight
Magical night Magical night
I was in awe without askance
Mesmerized as if in a trance
A cotillion of circumstance
Butterflies dance Butterflies dance
On nights when the golden moon sings
They flit in nocturnal musings
What pleasure to me their waltz brings
On velvet wings On velvet wings
What a delightful sight to see
When they whirl with grand revelry
Dancing with such joyful esprit
In front of me In front of me
It's a garden party soiree
Beneath the moon and stars they sway
A charming celestial ballet
Then fly away Then fly away
HOSTAGES TO FORTUNE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Luck—that’s what some call it, a capricious cotillion with probability, eventually holding one hostage to fortune…” quote by the poet
Bystanders watch, their brows furrowed with wisdom,
judging the idiocy of my iffy propositions, the recklessness of my heart~
the unwise promises made to fortune and chance.
Is it luck I chase or a deeper current pulling me onward,
a commitment to commodity unseen,
a rendition to the unknown Hand that guides me?
The consequences occasionally sharp and bitter~
Are they assignments etched in pain or a class on grace,
divinely ordained, the Master sculptor’s chisel shaping my soul?
Were my falls the intended flights, each one a clumsy cotillion~
one orchestrated by a Divine hand,
making me a willing hostage not to fortune but to faith?
So, yes, I'm a hostage, willingly bound,
reluctantly surrendered, an internee of improvisation,
a fool of faith's uncertain grasp.
In this prison, I find the ultimate freedom.
The red gown rustles touched by the breeze
Fall's chilly rain drops drip with ease
Sponsor: Rick Parise
Contest: Crystalline
Theme:Autumn Oak
A beautiful fan of many a hue,
Feathers adorn it when opened, so
gently cooling the air with a graceful swoop,
When your subtle wrist moves to and fro.
Was Mamgu’s fan when she was young,
When to a ball she did go.
Hiding her face in a coy pose,
Yet eyeing you slyly, thinking, you didn’t know.
Gracefully dancing eyes lowered to the ground,
Fan to her face to hide the smile,
When dancing a cotillion with partners of four
Hands just touching heart racing a mile.
The fan held the key to their romance
Sliding it to her cheek she was saying, “I want you”
Holding it opened, covering the mouth.
“I belong to no-one, am here for you”..
Feathers
Penned 05/08/2014
Carol Brown
Contest Name
Bunny Rabbits
Bunnys down here are a winning,
lissa virus, keeps a killing ,
man made by the blest,
to kill off this pest,
free food in the great depression,
old soldiers lived on bunny,
but the rich ground them down,
Myxometosis killed millions,
first ever germ warfare cotillion,
the master looked and he frowned,
bunny is back, an is willing,
though the rich might put him down,
the wasters want his killing,
but the Swaggies food is still around .
rabbit trap and billy
and me pocket knife silly,
and i'll be westward bound ...
thank you Robert Hinslaw, cobber mate...
Don
Thank you for my place Carol.
cooler summer is this way,
looking for autumn, shortly hey,
thank you for my prize, incidently,
sorry 4 the sadness bunn-ne ...
but it is a crime...downunder all the time...
greed for grass the rich have see...
So called Rabbit plague, when the ordinary workers were getting a quid by selling Rabbits, which incidently make the Aussie slouch hat for the Army.
A free feed was not on, it's un Australian? So the hungry drought cursed Squatter ordered a
genocide for Bunny...Without Bunny the Aussies got a taste for the masters sheep instead as in Waltzing Matilda....
Bright and blue the dainty butterfly was
Kissing each flower “hello” as she passed
Gently landing on their blooms without pause
She scurried carefree, till enough nectar she’d amassed
Raised in captivity in Georgia’s butterfly pavilion
This sapphire wonder had never seen a storm
She mingled with other captives vermillion
All were colorful, but the blue one surpassed the norm
How could she know that Jeanette favored butterflies?
Or that my dear friend had but three months to live?
Can you imagine Jeanette’s surprise
When a butterfly landed on her arm with a kiss to give
Now when I go to the butterfly pavilion
I recall well that special day when my friend smiled
Jeanette’s home was decked out as a butterfly cotillion
And she danced to her death like a flower child
The joy it brought to see so many species
Reminded her of the butterflies adorning her home
A butterfly’s kiss is much gentler than a bee’s
Even those held confined in a garden’s glass dome
*Entry for Gail’s “A Butterfly’s Trail of Kisses” contest
By Carolyn Devonshire, March 31, 2012.
The Moon awakes
With the sleepless Stars
As the Earth settles to rest.
Venus keeps company
With rose-tinted Mars,
The Hunter saunters toward west.
The Bear wanders
And ambles around
While the Queen sits regally by.
The Earth turns
Without a sound
As they all glide through the sky.
The King presides
O'er the celestial display
It seems like a well ordered dance.
The cotillion continues
Til the dawn of the day
Across the grand expanse
(Constellations: Hunter = Orion, Bear = Ursa Major/Big Dipper, Queen = Cassiopia,
King = Cephas)
Bent glass danced light from windows over looking vacant playgrounds,
as Mr. Ingersall taught refraction and dispersion.
Rainbows tap-danced walls to chalkboard, brushing equations,
while impish hues soft-shoed solutions chased previously with tears.
From a lackluster world of rummy princes and fermented fairy tales,
the girl's heart tripped fantastic in the cotillion of blithe pigmentation.
The loud sound of deserted classrooms witnessed bewitching glass
sashayed away from the place of clips, red pencils, and unbroken chalk...
and light danced once for her in pentient denouement.
The Last Spike
Helios orb peers cautiously
with guarded optimism
through cracker-slatted clouds
as Thor's divine implement
shatters the morning stillness with the clap of a sonic boom
Mere mortals assigned Herculean tasks
trill a gospel cadence,
their labors heralded as glistening ribbons stretch yon and hither,
a tribute to their genius
and their genesis
Now, as the celestial cotillion materializes
in the ebony overhang
the spinning Mother bids 'Adieu'
as the last rough-hewn iron phallus
penetrates the porus creosote-drenched flesh
with a tempered satisfaction
known only to Gods.........
And those men who will be.
("Hell On Wheels" final episode)
my school colors
brooks brothers navy blue
and establishment gold
were God-awful choices
for Catholic girls
being educated beyond
their parents' means.
seventeen, out of high school
ready for life
without restrictions
I was prime
for the times
revolutionary ideas
about life loving and living
flower-power dreams
unbelievably believable.
twelve years of stateliness
and I was ready
for a tie-dyed change of mind
opportunity came
in a California cotillion
formal dress not required.
I left the "Beach Party"
two piece red-checked
belly-button cover-up behind
and never looked back.
LIGHT FROM DARKNESS
~ Pansies ~
:::::::::::::
Magenta
::::::::::::::::
Cornflower
:::::::::::::::::
Bittersweet
:::::::::::::::::
Stems, like jellyfish tentacles
Iris-eyes stare curiously
~ From ~
Winter’s darkest sable night
~ Yet ~
A source of awesome sunlight
Illuminates capacious sherbet hues
A spiritual source?
Artist’s hand on the wall?
Joy precociously leaps into outer space
~ Cotillion of unopened buds ~
hold their breaths in anticipation
Kim Rodrigues ©2017