Best Curtsies Poems
There was An Old Women in This Shoe...
She had so many Children that it felt just like A Zoo.
She taught Them love,read poetry,and books...
They choose anger,hatred, and would not even look.
She taught Them reading,arithmetic,and writing...
They chose pain,aggravation,and dynamic fighting.
She Taught Them to Be Honest,truthful,never to fib or lie???
They chose words with devious vulgar meanness and demise.
She made Them scrap books with animals and art work of every kind.
They chose alcohol,drugs,Drug Dealers,and misery;Why???
She married a disease She knew not of its' severity or how to beat...
These Children All adopted it and low and Behold became rather weak.
She resort to teaching Them how to Pray to God and have Mercy.
How They forgot Her,All Their Manors,and those taught curtsies.
She would still Pray for Them to Her very last Days smothered By Kids.
You know;They came in All Sizes;Big,Medium,and small Bids.
Oh How She would Say,"Please For The Sake of God!!!
She happens to Be Gone In there live now...
As Precious as Her words were...
They still Haven't heard Her and just nod.
By Charlene L.Wilcox 09-20-2014
Categories:
curtsies, absence, children, conflict, crazy,
Form:
Narrative
Elegantly it is ushered to the ground
Escorted by the warm currents surrounding it
It bows and it curtsies and it never takes "no" for an answer
Wanting to dance until the music of the moment surrenders
It is still.... and yet it glides....
It glides like an eagle soaring in majestic flight
Ever so often it pauses to soak up the sounds of nature
Then.... it continues on in its plight to find shelter
Dancing, bowing, and being escorted by things that cannot be seen
The faith of the little feather begins to mature
It knows not where these things come from
Only that they have been there all along
Softly, carelessly, floating to the ground.
Gwendolen Song
October 10, 2016
In the year of the Lord
Categories:
curtsies, beauty, faith, inspirational,
Form:
Personification
This genteel lady contemplates,
A pensive glance across each page.
Her book by choice; deliberates.
This novel from a bygone age,
A sad romantic love affair.
With wistful smile, then vacant look,
Partakes the comfort of a chair.
As perfume lingers on the book,
Imagination will impart,
This fantasy inside her head.
A young girl with a broken heart.
Her handsome suitor, she thinks dead.
Some time goes by, more teardrops flow.
With gentleness i brush her face,
A smile appears and then i know.
Once more she's played with style and grace,
An actress with the leading role.
Sweet memories, are fading fast,
This library, it soothes the soul
Since days of splendour, long gone past.
She waves and curtsies; no ones there.
A far off voice inside my head,
Broke memories we both did share.
Wake up! It's time to go, it said.
8/ 10/ 2015.
Categories:
curtsies, books, dream, , romantic
Form:
Rhyme
I have a live doll.
She curtsies and twirls, dances.
Farts and says excuse me through a giggle,
Poops and pees,
Is anatomically correct.
Little blonde doll,
I comb her hair but it is always wild,
Sometimes I’d like to carry her by it
But I never do.
My live doll
Smiles and sings songs
Has multiple sayings from her pull-string:
I love you,
Please and thank you,
Mommy and Daddy,
F*&% or fork.
(We aren’t quite sure.)
My pretty doll,
She is fully posable
Has multiple outfits:
Pink dresses, blue jeans,
Pajamas for night.
She came with a certificate.
My darling doll,
I hope the world
doesn’t rip off your limbs
and forget you under the bed.
Categories:
curtsies, child, fear, growing up,
Form:
Free verse
...for Ralph McTell
Gorgeous in her gown of purple silk
she is exquisite.
Her partner in his patent leather
(potent lover) shoes is the perfect fit.
They enter competitions where
they always take first prize.
Gliding to the sounds of Guy Lombardo
they are the top-flight graduates of a
well-respected dancing enterprise.
It is the night they have been waiting for -
the National Prize - and she is confident
that they will win the day.
When the judges read the scores they
come in third... there's nothing she can say.
Beside herself with disappointment
she seeks the spotlight as the orchestra
plays 'Moonlight Serenade.' She twirls
and curtsies in a transport of delight,
and she dances
dances
dances,
long after there is any music...
Security is summoned,
and then an ambulance,
but nothing in the world can
stop her dancing...
dancing....
dancing.....
Categories:
curtsies, addiction,
Form:
Verse
Cursive curtsies
greet your yearning
heart, unfurling
again after
winter's burden,
like a garden's
first crocus, a jolt
to the senses.
Lilac leaps from
monochromatic
monotony,
pickwick stripes rising
from dormant burrows,
no longer afraid
of uncertain skies.
Invited pigment
revives,
ignited with
a tiger's pulse,
like your page
decorated in
heartbeat artistry.
My lungs lift anew,
blooming with
freshness' debut.
Impromptu whispers
kiss another line,
finding their
icy wait
reciprocated
at the garden gate.
.
4-9-2021
Anacreontic Verse Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
Categories:
curtsies, devotion, flower, garden, lost
Form:
Free verse
Along bosoms of maiden moon
Embroidered wings adorn the pond;
As fairies sidestep from beyond!
Where curtsies in the forest bloom,
My breath abates until they gleam
Into the gentle trellis scene.
Soft flicker chases tinted June
When pixies wink for one invite,
To gaily waltz in vines of light.
I loop in spells like hazed festoon
On lacquered weeds, the child in me
Answers the lure …so ever free.
Bewitching flights, now gone too soon
While impish waves begin to fade;
That in my dream, eyes slit like blade.
Along bosoms of maiden moon
Where curtsies in the forest bloom,
A flicker chases tinted June.
I loop in spells like hazed festoon
Bewitching flights, now gone too soon.
Can You Constanza Contest
8.29.12
Categories:
curtsies, imagination, mystery,
Form:
Rhyme
The sun is setting
Slips into obscurity
Now it is twilight
Day’s last glow fades
Deep blue saturates the earth
Turning darker shades
Darkness approaches
Stars pop out by the minute
Twinkle, little star
Starkness now darkness
The landscape curtsies to murk
And thus takes its leave
No shadow in sight
But of glow from the heavens
And pinpoints of light
Dotting the expanse
Harmonious symphony
Thousands at a glance
A motionless dance
Dancing wildly at a stance
An epiphany
No noise, silent, still
Euphonious mystery
In silent dead chill
Each one to retire
Some turning in for the night
others climb higher
An odd burning blaze
Constellations in a maze
A long-distant fire
Then a sudden hint
The party not long to last
A faint bluish tint
Then stronger lit skies
Night’s reign is long and past
Tomorrow’s approach
The show concluded
The stars now bow and exit
The set is torn down
Lighter, brighter, dawn
Blackness, from sight, gone
The night is worn out
A different tune now sung
Birds chirp and await the sun
Faint shadows commence
Now the day’s great song
The sun comes galloping along
With the speed of light
Slowly revolving
Odd circular reasoning
To do yet again
Categories:
curtsies, night, stars, sun,
Form:
Haiku
~The Knot Garden~
Weave up and down, now in an out.
Where does it start?
Where does it stop -
The dance, this lively garden gavotte?
A circle of Thyme, like ladies fair,
Joined with royal ribbons of Sage
Woven throughout with Tarragon’s leaves,
Rosemary’s boughs – handsome as lords.
A stately pattern of no mean estate
Made with Marjoram and Parsley in hue,
An intricate knot, noble in origin,
Sir Basil and Savory in delicate steps.
Oregano bows and Peppermint curtsies –
A duke and his duchess
Entwined in the waltzing
Of ancient design and arrangement.
Lines intersect with flowers of Anise,
Squares within circles – pungent with Dill -
Carefully planned, a castle garden dances,
Intertwined in delight by a King for his Queen.
Dedicated to the reproduction of a medieval knot garden at Filoli Gardens and Estate.
Categories:
curtsies, children, dance, garden, spring,
Form:
Free verse
.
So bashful my soon to be wife
She places her fingers into my
hand as I help her down from the
surrey
Her eyes firmly fixed to mine
she smiles
and curtsies
Arm in arm
I lead my petite princess to an arbor
adorned with flowering vines
and a bevy of meadowlarks
Resting on my knee
I ask for her hand
my lips kiss her soft fingers
and I speak in romantic verse
I ask forever to share life
and her moist kisses at night
Magically my bashful little flower
my timid princess spoke with jest
to shift the fright
and down her soft cheeks
tears crystalline
from her brown eyes fell
With gesticulation
and her hair flowing
whilst she gracefully danced
I heard
"yesss"
Categories:
curtsies, love,
Form:
Free verse
Traffic and pedestrians
Perform a do-si-do.
Cityfolk, experienced,
Know just which way to go.
Every last participant,
Of flesh or chrome and steel,
Bows or curtsies to his partner
In this urban reel.
In and out they weave and turn,
Like threads upon a loom.
Out-of-towners watch in awe,
Anticipating doom.
At some point in this promenade
The music stops and then,
The dancers separate until
They’ll do-si-do again.
Categories:
curtsies, urban,
Form:
Rhyme
** Degas Dancers **
Painted or drawn,
Degas arrested time.
Truly
His dancers
— even those standing,
watching the others —
Are caught in motion,
In poised postures such
That we think we can feel them
Breathing, alerting
Their limbs
To prepare for performance;
(On stage or in the studio) with
That tension,that anticipation, or
Waiting primed in stage wings
— The blue dancers,
The green ballerinas —
Always observing,
Always envisioning
What is to come,
Ever mindful
Of the goals:
To become the music,
Leaving self for the movements,
Hoping to realize that epitome:
To paint their bodies with grace
Into such danced, linked, perfectly
Sweeping lines, curves, and angles that
The music itself
Will gasp…
The music, sounds fulfilled
Into flowing sights
As the dancers live
The choreographed
Combinations.
Then curtsies are
Done and flowers thrown.
In the endings, dancers become
Themselves again, like
Degas drew them: sitting
Slumped, tired, side by side on benches
With their tutus flared and
Colorful; their pointe
Shoes off with ribbons strewn;
The music fading from thought…
But, the ballet remains,
The very meaning of
Their lives, in all
Dreams and imaginings,
Blessed to them
First to last
Every motion
Becoming a
Joy in
Being.
————————————————————————————-
(c) Art & poem sally young eslinger
2/22/22
Categories:
curtsies, beauty, dance, feelings, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
Love is shown through tender mercies-
Even death to love gives curtsies-
No one can yet live without-
Loneliness of love is yet a drought-
Everyone at a point in time-
Gives love their inner rhyme-
Categories:
curtsies, love, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh, My Love!
She Curtsies,
Oh, My Love!
For Aeons,
Graceful,
Oh, My Love!
For All To See
Her Earthquake
My Fear...
Oh, My Love!
She Curtsies,
'Til Time Stings No More
The Memory Of Forever.
She Curtsies,
My Love.
Categories:
curtsies, love,
Form:
Free verse
The ballerina with her coquetry
and prince with yawning tights his legs stump me.
Her twirl a-spin with graceful poise so long.
The twaddle of his movements poor ping-pong.
Unhandsome chin and rabbit ears so dull
But Alice charms before the queen of bull.
Her ruffles white, she curtsies with a kiss
the redness of a playing card’s abyss.
A timed waste for the prince - he scorns his watch.
His buffoonish pants made of trips and starch.
The queen, she’s not amused — “Off with their heads!”
“I shall have rabbit stew and corset seeds”
The ballerina begs with lashes long
The queen so flatly states her wish “S’long!”
Just then a storm reshuffles deck - a win.
The queen’s been tossed - the duo rides their Schwinn.
To find a finer ballet stage just in
The precise time for girls and rabbit-spin.
10/22/2018
Try Something New Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Nina Parmenter
With dodgy rhymes
Categories:
curtsies, humor,
Form:
Rhyme