Best Doll Poems
"Hi Doll!"
He's been calling me that for years
I like it
Truth is I have always been a doll
My permanent smile
My open arms
I was a sweet sixteen's baby doll
her brother's too old to play with doll
a favourite doll
forgotten doll
replaced doll
A bounced off two cars rag doll
A fashion doll
possession comfort toy pretty thing on your arm with
eyes that roll doll
Not real
not taken seriously doll
A spinning three faced porcelain
cracked and chipped with rocks and scissors
paper doll
fragile doll
disfigured doll
tearing out my stuffing
losing my head
broken doll
A doll
like any other doll
that just wants to be held.
17.08.28
Composed for Gregory R Barden's
"The Poet's Own" Contest
1st Place (thank you Greg!)
Submitted to Julia Ward's
"Your Favorite Poem Of August 2017" Premiere Contest
1st Place (thank you Julia!)
Porcelain doll, with a face so pretty
a country gal, ran away to the city
Worked in a bar, dancing on tables
beat shovelling sh-it, in Pa’s stables
Looks for love, but only finds bums
lowlife gamblers, in rundown slums
Go back home
not a chance
One day soon
find romance
Porcelain doll, life’s becoming gritty
rent’s due, ain’t nothing in her kitty
All knocked up, mascara streaking
bloodshot eyes, skin’s unappealing
Sleeps in the pines, winter it snows
crystallised tears, angel eyes froze
Barely alive
baby’s dead
No way back
no warm bed
Porcelain doll, face’s the committee
lunatic asylum, nobody shows pity
Shock treatment, four hourly dose’s
prison guard lesbians, with halitosis
broken doll, made one bad decision
they chipped her head, thin incision
Eyes don’t blink
stare at space
No expression
just a doll’s face
By
David Kavanagh
Walls of silence hold,
Me prisoner,
The child held within,
Cries out for release.
Relative solitude comforts,
Not the tortured soul,
Inward coiling withdrawing,
Deep inside.
Shedding its outer skins,
Protective
Layer thus preserving its,
Inner being.
Innocents shroud lies in ruins.
Gentle spirit, cast aside wings,
Damaged appendages.
The fallen angel kneels in,
Shame,
Shadows before mankind.
Unanswered prays rest upon,
Deaf ears.
Muted sobs, echo on stilled,
Winds breath.
Hardening to stone, the
Chilled heart
Reflects frozen repose.
Forgotten amongst mine own,
Kindred,
Childhood symbolizes a betrayed,
Victim’s refuge.
Small fragile hands reach out,
Into nothingness,
Hollow space grasping into,
Oblivion.
Chained shackles twist,
Imaginations warped view,
Somber tones cloud troubled,
Thoughts.
Amidst life's trials, I'm aimlessly,
Adrift,
Without any form of stability.
I, alone remain shambles,
Wreckage.
Displaced and damaged,
Beyond repair.
A broken doll thrown away,
By those who should have,
Cared for her the most.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
THE DOLL
With Mona Lisa wiles, unfurled.
Her porcelain lips with tight grip.
A button dress antique and pearled.
Her glass eyed threat.
Unnerving doll — she’s quite a trip.
A poignant face, pompadour curls.
Her long stem rose replaces whip?
Alien smile out of this world —
impenetrable craftsmanship.
I broke in pieces as she hurled
her glass eyed threat.
6/30/2019
SONNET FOR THE LITTLE GIRL WITH NO DOLL
Above the brook blue Damsels flit in dance
And bring to mind that little girl who’d pass
Long solitary hours with spellbound glance
Such simple joys gave solace, filled her glass
No doll for her, the solitude to fill
But she saw silken wings above the stream
That dart and flicker round each shining rill
And all alone gazed at the passing scene
Could you and I regain that fresh clean sight
And find contented bliss within the trice
Would we thereby accept and find delight
In life, perceive its gift beyond all price
Perhaps one of life’s secrets in this rhyme
Is: look, and live always in present time
i once
had a doll
whose name
was lulu
we
laughed and
played till I was blue
her heart as big as a cashew
never did she wander from my side
loved her to pieces
and cut off her hair
and then
gave her
a new hairdo
t’was then I changed her name to sue
AP: 3rd place 2025
POTD August 5, 2019
Submitted on August 3, 2019 for contest INVITATION TO PLAY sponsored by SHERI FRESONKE HARPER - RANKED 4TH
Porcelain doll hangs on shadows and wings
Of twilight’s frame. Guarding an autumn child,
The toy lightens ink of stenciled dusk
As her enamel fingers gleam like candles...
Yellow the stars where she comes from
robed in fine lace . Through heaven’s print
An angel in disguise bestows love, as
Porcelain doll hangs on shadows and wings
Contest 236 Max 16 Lines
Daughter, neglected by maternity
A button missing were her eye should be
Abused and abundant by paternity
Her limb missing were her leg should be
Expected to know the origins of charity
Love omitted from were her heart should be
Against all odds, to reach her maturity
In reality, adopted by a broken society
Of child and woman abusers, inequality
With each step, she becomes a step-
Daughter, despised by her competing step-
Sisters, losing the will to extend herself
Her education ferments high on a shelf
Absent mentors, no substitution
The sun sets on her bright future
A childhood deprived of true joys
Increasing her desire for real toys
Her reasoning capacity, a silent voice
Indecision a symptom of her poor choice
Her soul searches for a father figure
In a boy met under similar circumstance
Her identity lost to home affairs
His real intentions far from hers
A love child raised by other children
In a no child zone, her new comfort zone
Her Barbie thinned, cries for a meal a day
Granted, no chance to grow and play
12-13-2014
Once upon a time
There was a little paper doll
She lived in a paper house
Made of paper walls
She had a paper mom
She had a paper dad
And a little paper basset hound
All wrinkled up and sad
This little paper doll
Went to a paper school
Full of paper students
Who thought that they were cool
They made fun of the paper doll
For her paper clothes
For the way she styled her paper hair
And for her too-small paper nose
Once upon a time
She decided to end it all
So she grabbed a paper rope
And walked down the hall
She got to her paper closet
And pushed the clothes aside
She grabbed a little paper pen
And wrote a note goodbye
She was gone for good
Before she even spoke
She was a little paper doll
And all the strings inside her broke
Dolly had a scarlet doll
In the summer it could roll
Last fall a blunder
Doll gulped a thunder
She messed up all in a ball
Dolly had a scarlet doll: Limerick: Copyright © Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty
17 November 2014
A Reliquary Musing
A child’s doll melded into a stone in a former Nazi Death Camp
as its chilling image haunts the collective mind of those who live
in the so-called civilized world of today and who profess a hollow
concern for a child who’s long dead and who’s been completely
forgotten to the rest of the modern world.
A sad image like this one should haunt the very soul of mankind that
oft professes a political correctness as it sweeps such unpleasant images
under a bone-ridden rug that reflects a sad happenstance and mutters only
a sigh at the horrific nature of such a truly evil occurrence.
And, only Almighty God knows this sad truth.
And, now you do too.
Amen.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
June 14, 2022 (Narrative)
You scowl in anger as I turn to go,
Your gemstone eyes so full of jealous heat;
You do not understand, and cannot know
The thoughts that turn my head and guide my feet.
The image which you have is incomplete,
And so by definition soon will fall.
Your views are suffocating -- obsolete --
I will not be your pretty paper doll.
I will not bend my head or stoop down low
To make myself a mindless slab of meat,
Or let my soul be shaken to and fro
To lose itself and crouch beneath your seat.
Would you deny my voice to hear the bleat
Of brainless chatter, just to watch me crawl
To bed and spread my legs beneath your sheet?
I will not be your pretty paper doll.
An ever-changing wind will come and blow
Through Winter, Spring, and Summer, in the street;
And restless waters will forever flow,
Their colors cool, their textures smooth and sweet;
Yet you would change the pulsing, throbbing beat
Of Life and Love, to answer ev'ry call.
Mistakes made in the past, you would repeat --
I will not be your pretty paper doll.
Your mental boxes, always stacked and neat,
Have packed my essence up against a wall.
Take care, my love -- this gypsy heart is fleet;
I will not be your pretty paper doll.
Little sweet Lucy..four years..so small.
Her pink teddy bear.. and her Barbie doll.
Pushed strollers of fun. ..in traipse of malls.
Then a Topsy turvy evil.. stifles her a thrall.
She cries, " Where are my dolls? "
Crawls a cruel connive...arrives a sudden sinister.
Wrangles her hard destiny. .lurks a doomed disaster.
Poor Child, ...Leukemia is now her master.
She collapses into the arms.. of a malevolent monster.
She cries, " Where are my dolls? "
Wasn't Blood red. .that flowed in our veins?
Her's was a translucent black. ..
only strains..and those pains.
With her curly hair shaved. .the ugly doll sustains.
Syringe of thorns prick. .a rose.. to sick bed detains.
She cries, " Where are my dolls? "
Crummy " Chemo" of the 'Crab '. .
creeps on the little dummy.
There's yucky throw of food...
from her aching tummy.
Fear stricken Dad.. and a tear streaked Mummy. .
Her outstretched arms.. say..
"I know you both love me"
She cries, " Where are my dolls? "
The helpless girl.. gets weaker and thinner.
She longs for the table...sit together for dinner.
Forlorn she quirks.. in the MRI shiver.
Fighting with Cancer. .her spleen and liver.
She cries, " Where are my dolls? "
Painkillers help ..seeing windows and walls.
Doctors are elves... and Fairy nurses call.
To live without dying. .she daily sprawls. ..
She cries, " Where are my dolls? "
A desolate girl..she dreams. .playing with dolls.
PLACED THIRD IN SCREWED POETRY CONTEST by Rob Carnack
7th October 2018
A Poem of Reaction Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward.
The little girl’s mom Tila,
worked hard to save enough money
It was her baby girl’s birthday,
how she loved her miel, her honey
She saw a Barbie doll that stood
in the window at Catarina’s Boutique
Wearing a traditional dress embroidered,
flowered details so unique
Sugar skulls glisten
a crown of marigolds adorn her hair
A Mexicana Barbie with long dark braids
nothing would compare
Complemented by a golden yellow flowery headband
The dolls face and body
a beautiful color of ochre, tanned
Spotted by the little girl
on their walk through the city
Calling out, que bonita!
Mamita she is really pretty
Maria Barbie printed on the box,
like hers, it was the same
She knew she had to have her,
when learned she shared her name
Tila rushed home to put the order in on the phone
The line went dead, there was a muted tone
She prayed the order went through that day
And hoped it would be received
on her daughter’s birthday
Because of the power outage in Pueblo,
a small town
The Barbie doll was gone,
lost and could not be found
Tila was sad when she told her miel
it was the last one of her kind
Don’t cry mamita, I already prayed another
little girl Barbie Maria will find
Satin Doll Diva
Born to achieve - AH!
A Leo, a fierce Lioness,
A tiny, tempting treat
Spellbinding ... Unique,
A magical spirit, a sweet Poetess,
Love writing poetry
Give me my symmatry,
Verses and phrases design,
THAT Satin Doll Diva
Intending to weave - AH!
Poems and friendships all mine.