Best Crinolines Poems
Bits of me are missing mother,
the bits of me which you placed.
Bits of me are missing Mother;
ah, I see you in my face.
Trying to remember Mother’s days -
wine and roses - Sinatra songs
beaches, pipe curls and crinolines -
Days, so far gone, so long ago,
replaced by bitter brew: by tears,
by fears, by little pills;
I remember you.
I see you in my face Mother.
Years gone by and still I try,
no easy thing to do, I try to remember,
just a few memories of happy days
with you -
Was it when I learned to read;
when you baked your pies? Ah, Mother,
mother memories only come in sighs.
Still, in all, it’s very true, I spend
each day missing, missing all of you.
Included in my book The Hurricane by Prolific Press 2015
I await your coming
for the flowers are blooming and the grass is high…
lilac branches still bare and shivering
in the laggard lion’s breath of March
they await your kiss, Monarch of summer.
purplish buds
sprout from gray lilac branches --
daffodils bloom
Though all the tulips are gone
having served as desert for gophers,
the worm and the grubs stir in the wet spring soil…
and the hyacinths have replaced the crocus’s blue
the paper narcissus now, scent the air.
red breasted robins
hop between hummocks of grass --
bird bathes fill with rain
From the within the green pupa, soon
you will stir ..the membrane will thin, sheer as a curtain
in a spring breeze adorned in polka dots
and wings like the crinolines of spindle legged
virgin daughters at first communion...
you will emerge with lash long antennae ready to fly.
leaves of cone flowers
push through the brown soil of spring --
anthills rise
I await your coming
for the flowers are blooming and the grass is high…
lilac branches still bare and shivering
in the laggard lion’s breath of March
they await your kiss, Monarch of summer
butterflies born.
Forms: Free Verse & haiku
Hard to fathom what makes us tick
We're all unique as they say
One person loves rock and roll music
Another loves Sammy Kaye
Was always a true Glenn Miller fan
And big bands of the 40s and 50s
Vocalists like Sinatra and Como
And Frankie Laine was also nifty
WOW! Am I living in the past or what
With crinolines and saddle shoes
Terribly miss these much simpler times
Suffering from a case of the blues
Guess each generation misses their past
When things were a lot more fun
This roller coaster ride can get us down
Just enjoy your day in the sun
Must be realistic and accept the future
With all of it's scary unknowns
If you approach it with a great big smile
You'll wonder where the years have flown
© Jack Ellison 2015
Fall's Beginning
- featuring Sara Kendrick
The Easter dresses strown across morn's sky
Crinolines on horizon with gown
Early zephyr cool and air wrung dry
The Easter dresses strown across morn's sky
A start to a wonderful day birds cry
Leaves in places now caramel brown
The Easter dresses strown across morn's sky
Crinolines on horizon with gown
---
We walk the green fern garden range
We sit and stare and tease our eyes
Emotions flow with my Easter dress so strange
Easter morn vocals came within range
We’re dancing, like leaves that rearrange
I twirl my gown to fly with the skies
Angel dust travels swiftly in the open range
Clouds fall vividly on my gown like crinolines disguise!
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
Fall's Beginning
Written by:
Sara Kendrick
The Easter dresses strown across morn's sky
Crinolines on horizon with gown
Early zephry cool and air wrung dry
The Easter dresses strown across morn's sky
A start to a wonderful day birds cry
Leaves in places now caramel brown
The Easter dresses strown across morn's sky
Crinolines on horizon with gown
by~Poet Destroyer
We walk the green fern garden range!
We sit and stare and tease our eyes!
Emotions flow with my Easter dress so strange;
Easter morn vocals came within range!
We're dancing, like leaves that rearrange!
I twirl my gown to fly with the skies.
Angel dust travels swiftly in the open range.
Clouds fall so vividly on my gown like crinolines disguise!
I await your coming for the flowers are blooming and the grass is high. The lilac branches are still bare and shivering in the laggard lion’s breath of March. They await your kiss, the Monarch of summer.
purplish buds
sprout from gray lilac branches --
daffodils bloom
Though all the tulips are gone having served as dessert for gophers, the worm and the grubs stir in the wet spring soil. The hyacinths have replaced the crocus’s blue, the paper narcissus now, scent the air.
red breasted robins
hop between hummocks of grass --
bird baths fill with rain
From within a green pupa, soon, you will stir. The membrane will thin, sheer as a curtain in a spring breeze, adorned in polka dots and wings. See your pin-thin limbs stir like the crinolines of spindle legged virgin daughter at first communion. You will emerge with lash long antennae ready to fly.
leaves of cone flowers
push through the brown soil of spring --
anthills rise
I await your coming for the flowers are blooming and the grass is high. Though the lilac branch's still bare and shivering in the laggard lion’s breath of March awaiting your kiss, Monarch of summer, butterflies born.
Date 10/14/13
When he spoke of his love, the words flew from his lips
like silver butterflies in the morning sun
And when she heard he was speaking of her, she shuddered
and giggled with girlish laughter, while the pink blossoms
on the trees in the May garden caught the wind and
were blown to her feet...
And it was during that summer that the lovers lie beneath the aspens
which rustled like crinolines of ladies at an afternoon tea
as fingers of breezes played with their hair as
entwined they lie on the green bank of Avon
while overhead a flock of white doves flew up
and wrote the names of the raven haired girl and the golden
locked boy in the heavenly blue sky, as they peacefully slept
in each other's arms...
Oriental head dresses glisten in mid-morning sunlight
small waists fitted into tight girdles and large crinolines
move gracefully over chipped cobblestone
Men tip their top hats and wink at beautiful young women twirling decorative
umbrellas over well kept hair.
Church bells echo through streets of young children playing tag.
Men escort their wives over rain puddles collected at the gutters.
Old women browse shop windows smiling only when a bakery beckons them with
sweet smells of sugar and flour.
The town sways with love and greatness.
A small stage looms in the town center calling those seeking entertainment.
'Only two cents' for a ballet preview or 'three cents' for an opera opening.
At night couples, young and old descend decadent staircases at the ball, flaunting
beautiful dresses.
Singles curtsy before slipping into a slow waltz.
Weary mothers keep a close eye near by.
A beautifully painted sky provides moon light for long walks and sweet talks while
sleeping children lie safely under tucked in blankets at home.
Oh, such a beautiful scene.
The last days of summer sigh,
breathe out slowly.
Summer colors fade.
Mercurochrome leaves-
burnt orange and lemon yellow-
mimic the colors in my new wool sweater.
Liquid saffron autumn light
filtered through the trees,
remind me of other days
filled with envy.
Me in plain brown oxfords,
skirt not quite in style,
hand-me-down dresses,
coat from Woolworth.
Brown bag lunch.
Meat loaf sandwich.
Embarrassing milk in a pint jar,
lid screwed onto waxed paper.
Academic IQ..Honor Roll,
Social IQ: Dumb as a post.
I'm so shy, I'm speechless,
and just a little overweight.
While princesses in white buck Spauldings,
dyed-to-match sweater sets,
swish crinolines under grey poodle skirts,
flip their perfect page boy haircuts.
They meet in the cafeteria,
to dine on Jello and cottage cheese,
a dollop of mayonaise on top;
to discuss the latest fashion and
who is "going steady" with whom.
50’s housewife on kink
I like to please, always have
you need something, already in the car, your favorite dish- surprise it’s made
delicious, nutritious , satisfying
catering to all whims
don’t get up, i’ll get you another drink daddy
it’s so natural
saw it in my grandmother and mom, catering to men’s wishes remaining on task
putting others first as you lag behind only to realize that you are under appreciated
when you stumble on the right one you realize their love for you is overwhelming
so I choose this part of me, fulfills me
truly who I am
i know your thinking how can she love herself submitting to another
submission it’s so taboo, so deviant, conjures up images of cruelty, worthlessness
nothing could be farther from the truth
yes, good jewish girls were not taught to behave this way, walking around in heels completely naked as they clean the house
crinolines off as well as separate beds
what most people don’t know is that submission is a precious commodity- if it was available on the stock market it would out pure gold
why?
it’s a gift to one who earns it
connections so strong the desire to please in anyway is a joy
i am a 50’s house wife on kink
never felt this calm
Chandeliers glow beneath golden cherubs
Highlighted arches; adorned the great hall.
Paintings of cupids by masters of old,
Watched from the ceiling as people stood tall –
Debutantes fluttered their lashes and fans.
Pastels reflected on floors and shone bright.
Shadows of elegance followed each beat.
Beautiful dresses adorning the night.
Gentlemen lusted as fragrances wafted.
Music was muted by instant desire.
Sconces on walls softly lit up the room.
High cultured guests dressed in formal attire.
Lords with their beautiful ladies soon waltzed.
Black tails and ties danced a rhythmical pace.
Crinolines swirled to the beat of the drum.
One, two, three, one, two, three, gliding with grace.
Bachelors entered the room through arched doors.
Holding their passions impertinently taut.
Glancing around at the ladies in white.
Acting like gentlemen as they were taught.
Courtiers sat on a couch near the door.
Necklines, sufficiently high, covered breasts.
Sharing their hopes as they giggled and smiled.
Lips ripe for kissing remained tightly pressed.
Magical moment when two young hearts met,
Waltzing to music the orchestra played.
There in the palace flirtations began.
Dancing all night there, new joys were made.
December 2, 2014
Originally Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Ballroom Delights
Revised (slightly) March 23, 2015 For Poetry Soup Member Contest SCREWED
*** Trees ***
With or without their leaves,
Call out to me
Especially with a spiritual mystery
That amplifies as I investigate
And admire the vast variety
Of their beauty —
Borne in the costumes
of their diversity —
Their created, sweeping beauty:
From some with innumerous twigs
shooting straight, clean
Lines — arrows up into the blue;
To others with gnarly branches clearly
Dancing out from trunks— curving freely;
From those with tops rounded completely;
To others forming spiked, rotated V’s,
Like wearing upside-down crinolines,
appearing truly
Wind-tossed so loftily
As to hide their heads,
their crowned peaks;
And,not to be forgotten,
All the evergreens, exquisitely
Full and tall, proud to be seen.
They keep travels looking lush
throughout every
Season, giving a symmetry
To what we see —
From bright to deep,
From city to country —
Over the rolling landscape scenes
Surrounding us where each
Tree stands growing high
Humming a kind of reverie
They, perhaps, want us to glean
Someday as friends in a sharing reality.
———————————————————————————————-
(c)2/15/22 sally young eslinger
Thanks be 9
Hard to fathom what makes us tick
We're all unique as they say
One person loves rock and roll music
Another loves Sammy Kaye
Was always a true Glenn Miller fan
And big bands of the 40s and 50s
Vocalists like Sinatra and Como
And Frankie Laine was also nifty
Boy! Am I living back in the past
With crinolines and saddle shoes
Terribly miss the much simpler times
Suffering from a case of the blues
Guess each generation misses their past
When things were a lot more fun
This roller coaster ride can get us down
Just enjoy your day in the sun
Must be realistic and accept the future
With all of it's scary unknowns
If you approach it with a great big smile
You'll wonder where the years have flown
© Jack Ellison 2013
Cliff
On sea cliffs walks a breath of grace
Windswept wonder splashed on her face
Sun shadows dance around her feet,
Delight in this sandy retreat,
Green parasol, like flower blooms
Floral scents and ocean perfumes,
Flowing spice of the salty air,
Carefree breeze tugs curls in her hair.
Wind song of the sea sings in riffs
From hiding places runs up cliffs
Chases sunlight - l’apres midi –
Sea shanty chorus, whimsy free,
Ruffles chaste lace of petticoats
Playful whiffs ‘round her bonnet float
Bluffs of pink granite precipice
Sports wild poppies, crinolines crisp.
Palisade crags – coast of flowers -
Begs delight from her leisure hours
Spreads her a cape of boutons d’or,
Golden bouquet – beauty implores -
Playful cloud shadows, like sea drift,
Hug windy paths upon the cliff
Grace strolls in afternoon’s repose
Blossom of the Fleurie Coast rose.
1-25-22
Contest: C Form - Couplet
Sponsor: Constance La France
Based on Monet’s painting of Madame Monet at Trouville France. Trouville is a resort city in Normandy that is part of the Fleurie Coast – Coast of Flowers.
Wild spangled lolli of feminine wiles
Pippy long stockings with sneaky sly smiles.
Hair like gold brittle bristles, wires wrap
Knoggin harnessed between hair band strap.
Wild, flying eyes, wiggling under britches
a merry carnival, organic stitches;
attire of confetti a bomb of glee;
this is the way you chose to redress me?
Pink glitter Mary Janes make my feet prance.
How could I sit down, I must make a dance.
You say I’m spirited, take center stage.
How could I ever rest dressed in this way?
Who could be quiet, a wee gray field mouse
if you put him in crinolines topped with a blouse?
You’ve seemed to create a right fine me stew.
Now what will the rest of the entire world do?