Best Curtsied Poems
It had been a day full of miraculous detail.
Freezing rain played the ground like a kettle drum.
Trees snapped and flowers curtsied
before engaging in a pas de deux
with blades of grass on the stage
of this summer eve.
Our erupting blazing star...
Sported a set of yellow barn doors sorely in need of a paint job;
Closed shut with a heavy metal rusty lock seeping a golden shade;
Upstaging the blue sky and creating its own distinct wash
to signal the break of day.
A curvy curved river flowed naturally through
the mountains into a water colored sunset.
The moon waited patiently offstage with bedroom eyes
anxious to make her entrance.
And I,
Well - I just stood motionless,
Hoping to absorb it all;
Hoping to never take this planet for granted;
A non opiate
I like to call
Organic Ecstasy.
And not a sign of men’s hands anywhere in sight.
14~12~2014
Maurice Yvonne
With her first words she mesmerized his soul,
Of rose water and lavender was her aroma,
Her tip tap of her fairy tale walk was majestic,
A woman of status still in her prime of depth and note,
Wisps of red-hot curls, floating out of control adding
To her appeal, a magnetic touch to the usual
Variety of husband seeking maidens at the ball.
He hurriedly asked her for the opening dance,
She accepted and gracefully took his hand,
He first tested the waters, like a ballerina she danced,
Sadly, the music stopped for an interval, and
So led her back, as her deep smiling hazel brown eyes
Played with his, quizzically asking if she would see him
Again, he bowed and loudly voiced ‘my lady, the next dance
Is mine.’ it was a sweltering July night, she curtsied, and
Walked outside to the patio, attracting every man's attention.
Lord Kingsworth was from Somerset and, the Duchess of York
From Yorkshire, they made a striking couple as they swayed,
Laughed and whirled all night on the dance floor, infatuation
Had certainly crept upon them and the gossip column in
Tomorrow’s Country Times would certainly talk of this romance
And definitely would not let such a juicy piece of scandal escape them.
Lord Edward Kingsworth invited Helen, the duchess of York to a picnic,
Helen, charmingly smiled and accepted, Edward would pick her
Up with his carriage at eleven o`clock the following morning.
He had made up his mind he would ask Helen to become
Betrothed to him, who should he ask for her hand in marriage,
Her eldest brother she explained, as her father had died last
Year of tuberculosis and so it came to pass that after
An engagement of one year which held many ardent nights
And many picnic loving days by the river, which meandered
Close by them, always hurriedly stripping and unashamedly
And joyfully, enjoying the cool water, deliciously naked, finally
Became husband and wife at the beautiful York Cathedral.
What a happy couple they were, and blessed with three
Beautiful little girls who all had their mother’s unruly red hair.
Polka Dottie
When the up-tempo “Beer Barrel Polka” began
I grabbed sweet John’s arm, curtsied to my man
The Polish side of my family hit the floor
While my new groom wished he could slip out the back door
There was only one dance I’d ever seen John do
His “variation of the twist,” shuffling one shoe
In fear he stood at first, wishing he’d taken lessons
Then hoped he could fake it, capture polka’s essence
But his sister Dottie could see poor John’s distress
So she hoisted up the hem of her bridesmaid’s dress
My family cleared way as Dottie started to prance
Oh, yeah, this gal surely knew how to Polka dance
John slipped behind the bar with a bottle of gin
As Dot spun me ‘round and my legs did a tailspin
So fast we twirled that I quickly became dizzy
Barrett fell from my hair and wild hair flew frizzy
Now what was I seeing, not one Dot, at least two
The Polka Dots took lead and when the dance was through
Dot told me she’d done it to rescue her brother
Who was now being helped to the loo by his mother
Dottie became an honorary “Pole” that night
Pleasing me and saving face to my groom’s delight
Written January 11, 2019
For Edward Ibeh’s Polka Dots Contest
Last night I had a dream
I’d met the king and queen.
I was among the guest,
waiting to be seen.
They sat in separate rooms
and interviewed each guest,
When it was my turn,
I curtsied and begun
I spoke to only Charles
and even danced with him
Diana was there too,
she spoke to but a few.
I wondered if he knew,
If the rumors were all true.
That she was not to be
with him eternally.
Then one day she was gone
She left her loving sons
her dreams to carry on
The work she had begun
Humorous Rhyme - 8/2/2013
Pardon ma'am, but I noticed you've been staring at this painting for a while
She is beautiful but has such a melancholy face, it's hard to look away
Her name is Veronique and that's me behind her, the little canary
She's been my sorrowful mistress now for almost two hundred years
When the artist painted her she was wearing a subtle smile but then
Gabriel told her he had to leave for a fortnight and promised to return
He vowed to finish this canvas, painting her smile back on again
but thousands of fortnights and volumes of her tears have come and gone
no sign of Gabriel, so my Lady sits and stares wistfully, remembering him
She touches the bow of her violin but hasn't played since the day he left
I hear her weep late at night when she reads the poem he left for her
The edges of the page are torn and tattered, tear stained parchment
but Veronique reads it night after night then holds it against her heart
He wrote in extravagant hand the words, now on yellowed page:
Thou fill'st my heart with love
More than any winged birds
Could fill the heavens above
Thou art the chalice of my soul
The cup from which I drink
My warmth when I grow cold
Thou art nectar of my desire
Thou art the spark of my fire
Those are words any fair maiden would swoon to have written for her
She still holds hope that her Gabriel will return but I worry about her
She keeps repeating the words he wrote on the back of this painting:
My Veronique ~
Goddess with cinnabar tresses in green velvet dresses
I've told you her name and mine is Cyros. May I ask yours?
A subtle smile crossed her lips, her skin pale and wrinkled with age
This lovely woman with touches of cinnabar in her grayed tresses
Stood with charm and grace. She curtsied in her green velvet dress
In whispered voice said, "Cyros, I am Madame Veronique Rossetti"
Painting: Veronica Veronese Artist: Dante Gabriel Rossetti
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
6th of May, 2016 Within A Gilded Frame Contest
Sponsored by: Broken Wings
Cherie-A ROSE AROSE
T’was once a rose, t’was once a weed
No thorns upon her stem decreed
The rose, for that weed, fulfilled his every need
A bud with nectar sweeter than any mead
Alas, the two had never met
One simple dahlia kept them apart
The weed was angry, the rose upset
That rose so sweet yet a weed too tart
But then sweetened was that weed one day
While ignoring anything Mother Nature had to say
Now two stand stoic together in a humble way
And are no longer frightened when the sky turns gray
That weed required no promise, nor vow
Only a day of peacefulness by the sea
At once took that rose a curtsied bow
And shared with each other honeysuckle tea
No union together for forever declared
Just a few daisy days to share and care
The two were simply platonic ally paired
United by the graciousness of a garden rare
© 2012…..free cee!
My horse prances.
And she dances,
As she spins around
She looks graceful
And so tasteful
Her hooves hardly touch the ground
Her long eyelashes
She seductively flashes
As she lifts gently in the air
Her thick mane flowing
From a breeze that's blowing
She dances without care.
She is captivating.
Her audience is waiting,
For her to thrill them more.
The horse is tiring
The crowd desiring
For just one more encore,
A moment to ponder,
As away out yonder,
Voices are calling out
They sound worried,
Anxious and flurried,
Then they begin to shout.
"Daisy, where are you?"
We have all been searching,
Since a quarter past two
We need you to come home, old girl,
It's time to be fed.
From the distance
Daisy heard the call.
What a time she had
entertaining one and all.
She curtsied to her audience,
Then she made a bow.
Then she said, "I am sorry folks,
I have to leave you now,
I hope you enjoyed my performance,
I shall be coming back.
I am feeling tired,
I'm going home to hit the sack."
Each child has talents and Dee always loved to skate
One night at the lake she was called up to the plate
The high school hockey team was “slip-sliding away”*
So call her a chauvinist; Dee wanted to play
But when the coach recruited her for the team
One boy offered a bottle of shaving cream
They couldn’t skate backward; Dee sure showed them how
Stealing their puck, she curtsied, and took a bow
Take it from Dee, men don’t like to be upstaged
By her free-flowing glide the boys were outraged
When it came time for the school’s holiday dance
To find a date, this skater hadn’t a chance
LANKY AND PLANKY
Lanky & Planky wanted to hanky pank.
They were two happy men without brains.
They thought about the Wizard and wanted to visit Oz.
But he was a doctor just as retarded.
Nevertheless, they set out on their journey to the land afar.
This was during the time of sexual introspection.
Lanky & Planky got lost.
However, they found their way once more.
They arrived in Oz exhilarated.
The Wizard appeared.
Lanky bowed to him.
Planky curtsied.
The Wizard smile and stated:
“This is Land of Oz. I am its Wizard. I watched you via my Crystal Ball. You two seem to adore each other. Therefore, why have you come to visit?”
Elatedly, Lanky introduced himself.
“I am Lanky Masters. I am here to discover who I am intimately. How I feel for Planky is love.”
Ecstatically, Planky provided his introduction.
“I am Planky Matters. I do love Lanky. However, I am sexually indecisive.”
The Wizard revealed their lives together.
One would become a woman.
One would remain a man.
Their brains were born.
Insofar, no choices did they form.
Through the power of Oz, each was spellbound.
Lanky and Planky were transformed and never returned to their home front.
Today there ingenious story is told by all in which their characteristics creates jocularity.
In that, everyone is allowed to be witty.
/___________________________________________\
Penned on November 02, 2014!
When she first came into this world, I had teardrops in my eyes
Rocking her to sleep at nights, was sure to make me cry
With my pinky held in her hand while a bottle she was fed
The moistness came to my eyes every time I put her in the bed
When she first took the bus to school, I wept like a little boy
The emptiness I felt that day mixed with a bundle of pride and joy
The courage that my little girl showed with pigtails in her hair
Filled my eyes up with tears - when she returned they still were there
When she had her first recital, I held a hanky in my hand
There were tracts of tears upon my cheeks as I would clap and stand
She curtsied in her tutu and blew a kiss at me
The water works would not turn off – but that’s no mystery
When she first got her diagnosis, I tried my best not to cry
But when my little girl said, “It will be alright”, I couldn’t keep them dry
She never complained about this turn of bad luck that came her way
And when I couldn’t be as strong, she always wiped my tears away
When first I knelt beside her grave, I had no tears left to loose
I would have followed her to heaven if that was a choice that I could choose
Now I only weep in private, in her room late at night
My world encased in darkness, since that day I lost my light
The laced-head heads
Of the elderberry flowers
Curtsied in acknowledgement
Of the sun arising east
The breakfast breeze
With the slightest ease
Had the lemon-grass skirt
Dance provocatively
The fairy-lace heads
Of the elderberry flowers
Agreed with exquisite manners
That the life-giving powers
Of the Light’s regal banners
Held the promise
Of a new day
A new day has come
Filled with promises
As I combed your hair so fair,
It glistened strawberry red,
We embraced nature’s bounty
Through the stories that I read
Content, tranquil, restful
As you laid upon your bed
Crisp sheets, below your chest,
I tracked your every breath
Palm cross beneath your pillow,
Same place it's always kept
Your elegant, fine eyelashes
Curtsied graceful as you slept,
I took a million photographs
Through the lenses of my eyes
As legend Frank, sang us out —
Reminisced memories, joy and lies
As I combed your hair so fair,
It glistened strawberry red,
Stitched my heart back together
With your loving, golden threads
Cherie-A ROSE AROSE
T’was once a rose, t’was once a weed
No thorns upon her stem decreed
The rose, for that weed, fulfilled his every need
A bud with nectar sweeter than any mead
Alas, the two had never met
One simple dahlia kept them apart
The weed was angry, the rose upset
That rose so sweet yet a weed too tart
But then sweetened was that weed one day
While ignoring anything Mother Nature had to say
Now two stand stoic together in a humble way
And are no longer frightened when the sky turns gray
That weed required no promise, nor vow
Only a day of peacefulness by the sea
At once took that rose a curtsied bow
And shared with each other honeysuckle tea
No union together for forever declared
Just a few daisy days to share and care
The two were simply platonic allies paired
United by the graciousness of a garden rare
© 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE…..~free cee!~
Revival
Death had me in check. However, I made it him with three pieces my Bishop, my Queen, and always by my side, my King of Kings
As my eyes began to flicker, the insensitivity of the fluorescent lights scorched them
Instantaneously the smell of sterile alcohol bound to the metallic inhalation of blood rapidly engulfed me
I glanced over to witness those bags of dead, still waters
In effect, they were filled with the aroma of lilies and sunflowers
I was being slowly transformed into a new creature
Notwithstanding, with a forked tongue, I demanded
Don't you know who I am?!
I am royalty!
A Matriarch!
Who stole my crown of poppies?!
Where is my Horse?!
A blizzard deluged my world on the hottest of summer days
With such desperate ambiguity, I cried,
Did I not reach Valhalla?
Odin, please let me feast with you.
Who has taken my sparkling red ruby slippers?
Grand Wizard, I implore you; I click my heels and want to go home
Blessed Mother, I pray you to take me into your bosom
Asriel, draw your sword and call my breath; you have my servitude, for I'm accustomed to choking on volcanic ash
At last, I curtsied to Nosferatu- grace me with your kiss
The relentless doldrums that stalled me curiously began to shift
Strange to me, I drank milk and honey and absorbed its sweetness
I began to twirl in spiders silk to consume its strength
For I am in Enl'air, my legs far-reaching are higher than the finest French ballerina
I pervade in the radiant mystical luster of eve
The rare amethyst waters have manifested in me now
I set off to fulfill my inherent self
The sun reluctant to leave the
stage
Splashed pink red paint across
the page
Of the final act of a lovely day
Then it curtsied and went on
its way.
A tentative rising harvest moon
Slips slowly into a darkening
room
A soft yellow carpet of
transparent light
The day gives way to another
night