Best Ella Poems
Ella Hyde
1857- 1898
That cad with the freckle on his forehead,
That rascal man beast,
Handsome as a Greek
But devastatingly insecure,
And so deliciously young!
He was the one who stole my pride,
There, behind the Hadley tombstone in the moonlight,
And who,
Breathlessly and with trembling hands,
Unlatched the ruby red necklace
From around my naked neck that night.
It was he.
That cad who swooped down upon my innocence,
Like a maniacal Zeus
In one of his crazy costumes of concupiscence,
And carried me off to nights of brazen episodes,
Splendid spectacles in light and magic,
Of him and me embracing wildly, madly,
In dreamy dances with caresses and kisses.
Only the truly passionate
Could understand these mad scenes in the dark!
I met RS on many a night
In the long concealing shadows of Central Park.
He was my man, but he didn’t know it.
I lived my life here in this dusty town the best I could.
I believe I left my mark in some small but universal way.
At least I knew when to say no to Roscoe Settle.
Now I’d like to go back to my grave and sleep.
I am tired of this rant about The Man Beast.
At 41 I entered here after my bout with diphtheria.
The trees here are my shadowy friends now.
But I sometimes secretly wish I could meet RS.
Just as it was in 1897,
He and I kissing in the garden Gazebo at Central Park,
His hand on the small of my back.
Me trembling with monstrous want,
My ultimate Prince.
Who lied to me like a rat!
I’m from the piano in my living room,
from the music and melody.
I’m from the old, shabby couches,
(Placed proportionally,
opposite side from the TV)
I’m from the mirror,
the clear reflection
whose face I remember
staring at in the morning.
I’m from the mud under the cemented ground in the yard,
(Brown, lumpy
filled with the elements of Earth)
I am from the fruits grown in my garden,
delicious when freshly picked.
I’m from the swing set,
run-down and tattered,
yet bringing back sweet
and wistful memories of the past.
I’m from the neighborhood mailbox,
beaten down and ragged.
I’m from the local Starbucks,
freshly brewed coffee.
From the dental clinic my father
worked hard to build.
I’m from my Uncle Benajir’s love,
an unconditional and spoiling love.
I’m from Aunt Helena’s
big mouthed personality,
causing trouble and anger amongst many.
I’m from the love and support from my cousins,
Rahat and Tasfia,
whose love has affected me greatly
throughout my life.
I’m from the judgmentals
and the backdated,
from the close minded and ignorant.
I’m from the Islam is the one true religion
and a Quran I have learned to read
throughout my childhood.
I’m from the Dates eaten
during Ramadan.
I’m from the fuchkas
brought from Artesia,
the Indian market of California.
I’m from the biryanis,
the cultural grain
of my ethnic group,
made especially for get-togethers.
In my closet are family albums,
filled with old pictures,
an array of familiar and unfamiliar faces
bringing about stories from the past.
I am from those memories --
stories about my long distant cousins
to my maternal grandparents --
I am from those memories.
She was a miracle conceived out of sweet adoration,
I’ve always been grateful for her God-given creation.
No comparison is she to other children I know,
admiring her strength and watching her grow.
When she lost her auntie, she was filled with woe.
A perfect beauty mark right above her right cheek,
it makes her rosy complexion stunning and unique.
We share a bond beyond compare, a rare connection.
When I look back at her youth in deep reflection
I remember all the good we held in adorning affection.
She may never know what she means to her mum.
This mum prays for her to be all she wants to become.
If there were metaphors and syllables to explain
what she means to me and all the memories that remain.
I even love that her room is messy like a hurricane!
She’s significant and momentous without bad behavior
and I have taught her to praise our Lord and Savior.
I am filled with so much joy and calming repose
as I watch all the tiny seeds of kindness she sows.
I am so proud of my beautiful daughter…Ella Rose.
May 16, 2018
There’s something about my love for my daughter,
maybe it’s all the lessons I have taught her.
Her bubbly smiles and ways only youth can display,
her growing independence, she’s too old to play.
Yes, there have been many times I have fought her,
but she shines like the constellations in array.
The angels danced when Ella Rose was born in sweetness,
now I shall confess she is my one true completeness.
A simplistic love we share with trust without obligation,
for I am so grateful for her God-given creation,
even though sometimes she wallows in discreteness,
I have full confidence she will show me appreciation.
As an infant she laughed at everything in sight,
those big brown doe eyes made everything all right.
Toddler years arrived with sassy days indeed,
but of course, me and her daddy met her every need.
For she is my saving grace, my eternal light,
I was born to give her roots as God planted the seed.
Her daddy will watch out for boys during puppy love,
as she will fall in deep with a boy she dreamed of.
Sincere adoration and complete devoted affection,
we share a bond beyond compare, a rare connection
she tells me girly secrets and when push comes to shove,
she is flawless to me even through imperfection.
She’s an aria of a melody with absolute splendor,
she can make a three pointer, yet so elegantly tender.
Her gifts of drawing and painting are excellent,
for she is my magnificence and has been heaven sent.
When she cries little girl tears on my knees I surrender,
trying everything in my power to heal her discontent.
I never knew a love could be so strong without romance,
and I am so grateful God gave me a second chance.
See I had a baby before her that gained angel wings,
now I have a sweet daughter and loveliness she sings.
There’s nothing like watching her graciously dance,
and oh, knowing she writes of such silly things.
I shall exalt Ella every day and nourish her necessities,
and show her my love and compassion shall never cease.
38 lines total
Non Romantic Love Poetry Contest
Emile Pinet
April 5, 2018
Oh, Sara Sara, oh,
in your warm voice
I see
You as you are, I feel
you free.
Your hands, they deal
the cards, they hold
the key,
they paint my day,
for they unfold to a
degree
the layers to my heart
carefree?
In early morning
coffee....
Oh, Sara Sara, oh,
My warm eye paints
you red:
A colour full of love.
We are no saints, but
that said,
I hold you high above
the crowd, a dragon.
I bet
You smile. You love
dragons as do I,
you had
one just for you.
Oh, Sara Sara, oh
we fly
above the crowd, you
and I.
But now I let you glide,
don't cry.
How masterfully you ride
the sky.
How free you drift,
How high.
***
May 11, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Ella’s Lullabies
twilight wanes with a child’s fascination
lullabies that deeply moves papa’s admiration
dreams of generation inheritance inspiration
powerful bond drawn with love tears creation
values taught us with their loving hands determination
3/27/2016
Ella is overjoyed when her friend Peyton comes to play
They have a special bond; it has always been that way
You’ll find them having fun together on a sunny day
Playing in the park where on the swings they’ll sway
When Ella has a sleepover then Peyton comes to stay
The last time it was special as it was on her birthday
They have a secret code but mummy knows the things they say
If Ella says a certain special word then Peyton must obey!
Ella says he’s her boyfriend and they will get wed one day
Nick is saving hard for their wedding, as he’ll have bills to pay!
Fictional write based on photo
Laura Loo’s contest Personal Memories Monorhyme II
05~26~16
Her seed turned into a bud the day she was miraculously conceived,
she peeked on a cool February day during the mid-afternoon-
Pink R O S Y cheeks with such brown eyes; it was so hard to believe,
her beauty shined with day beams as her effloresce began to bloom.
days into weeks…
weeks into years…
still with R O S Y cheeks…
as I shed sweet mother tears…
During July she blossomed more than any other time I could think of,
she grew taller but still so itty-bitty in complete comparison to me-
Many thorns grew as she transformed into a young lady I dearly loved,
she found independence as she struggled in the breeze to be free.
days into weeks…
weeks into years…
still with R O S Y cheeks…
as I shed sweet mother tears…
Time had passed as she met a young man who flourished her with desire,
rain had encountered, yet it nourished their relationship and made plans-
Just about the time her father and I decided to take a break and retire,
she walked down the aisle with a dozen pink colored roses in her hands.
She held such beauty as she closed her eyes with the sun fading into twilight,
in the morn’s fresh dew she awoke with such bloom as her thriving peeked-
The floret of her essence remains a sore eye for my lovely wondrous sight,
for she’ll always be my pure embellishment with those pink R O S Y cheeks.
*Dedicated to my beautiful daughter, Ella ROSE.*
My nickname for her is Ella "Rosy Cheeks"
And in words, she blooms - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Casarah Nance
Date Written: August 23, 2016
"That's not my elephant!" You could hear her say,
As quickly she ran, caught on film, heading this way.
The 2nd graders all laughed as they watched the movie,
Many of them thought it was really "Groovee."
For this was a film shot of their teacher Ms. Ella,
Whose performance in it was anything but stellar.
She was running for her life as the big bull feigned his charge,
The one she was supposed to ride wasn't nearly that large.
But it made for a good chuckle when she showed her class
The home movie of her trip to India's Kyber Pass.
Soon it was lunchtime...the cafeteria line was fun
As they laughed about how fast their teacher could run.
Spaghetti was on the bill of fare
Passing it up...one wouldn't dare.
Because they would need all their energy tonight
They had a test coming on the Bill of Rights.
Ms. Ella was a good teacher and her kids liked her a lot
But her tests were difficult as if she had some plot.
She would send them home with work to do,
But they learned from her film, not everything is work too.
So this is death again;
he comes around too often
of late by far!
Disturbing our positioning,
meddling with the dials,
blotting out our brightest star.
How will we find our way?
hands fumble along a wall,
looking for an exit or a light,
While behind him, shedding life
like a pair of wrinkled stockings,
she stands tall,
Her face, her smile, her eyes,
Ella in her radiance.
Written for my wonderful daughter,
Ella Rose who is the love of my life.
For she's my itty bitty precious rose,
So delicate with a distinct written prose.
She's everything I hoped she'd become,
A little sassy girl and sorta high strung.
Peaches on a pie with a cherry on top,
So sweet and silly always going non-stop.
A beauty mark on her upper right cheek,
And a china doll when she falls asleep.
All the boys out there aren't good enough,
Her daddy thinks there's no one to trust.
Absolute daddy's petite little angel,
See my Ella is so precisely faithful.
Big almond shaped deep brown eyes,
I love her to and from Heaven's bright skies.
Hey, Peyton, remember the time
When the snow was melted along with the rime?
When the sun was mild and the weather sublime?
We went out on picnic away from the dust and the grime.
We all took our hampers with fruit and some lime,
(I brought along some candy, bought out for a dime).
Momma packed some sandwiches with bacon which was prime,
And some very fine chutney of rosemary and thyme.
While my cousins and mom played charades and mime,
Off we both went for the grassy knoll to climb.
Our laughter peeled, tinkling like wood chime,
You were the prince, I was your heim.
Peyton, I remember that it was close to lunchtime,
I rode piggyback for no reason or rhyme.
You slipped of a sudden as you stepped on some slime,
We tumbled and rolled down the slippery 'cline.
I am sorry, dear Peyton, real sorry I 'm,
It was in fun, in those days of playtime.
I'd've done it again if there was another time,
For kid's to be prankish is never a crime!
(How's this for Mom's contest of Monorhyme?)
~25 May 2016~
That's not my elephant!
My elephant has small ears
And I've had my elephant now
For years and years and years.
He likes to eat spaghetti
And follows me to school.
All the other second graders
Think he is something cool.
Someone stole my elephant
And left this one instead.
I know he's not my elephant
There's large ears on his head.
I need to call the F.B.I.
I need to call my dad.
According to the bill of rights
I don't have to be sad
Maybe the zoo has my elephant
And took him by mistake.
This is a friendly elephant
But I know that he's a fake.
It's been Ella and her elephant
For years and years and years
And I know that's not my elephant,
My elephant has small ears.
'That’s not my elephant, Miss Ella. Get to tickets to Cairo tonight.'
I looked up from my desk, picked up the phone and sullenly said ‘alright’.
But before I could make that call, I had to cancel with Eddie;
Our first real date as a couple; I was making Italian spaghetti.
I spent the rest of the day, calling keepers, curators and aides,
Searching for missing elephants, until we boarded the plane.
Cairo was warm and amusing, but my heart was with Eddie tonight;
I wonder what he does for a living; but I love him, so he must be alright.
'That’s not my elephant, Miss Ella' I woke to hear him speak;
'Cairo shipped him to Paris; he’s featured at the Louvre this week.
Do you know a guy named McGregor? Got his hands on this deal somehow;
Thinks D.C. is the only location; more second graders to see him there now.'
'This McGregor, he’s got strange ideas; thinks Obama has brought a new voice;
With young children to raise, a desire to learn... museums must make the right choice.'
But I’d never heard of McGregor, I just wanted to know the next plan;
For my heart was still dreaming of Eddie, and of when we could meet again.
Then my boss told me that this McGregor nearly ruined the Bill of Rights;
He said the small second graders couldn't see without radiant lights.
He got lots of support from other curators and keeper and even some aides;
I even heard tell he went out on a limb and asked one of them on a date.
'Now I hear it wasn't my elephant, posing in Paris this week;
Mr. Eddie McGregor tried to take charge, but turns out he’s really quite meek.
Get two tickets for home, Miss Ella; we found my elephant tonight;
Mr. Eddie McGregor tried to get smart, but turns out he’s not very bright.'
'Why, Miss Ella, there’s no need to cry, we're shipping my elephant home;'
But my tears had begun a minute before, when I had answered my phone.
It was Eddie, and he poured it all out, then said he'd no longer come 'round;
The government takes a dim view of theft; my Eddie had been sent down.
The pantomime I play in
From dawn right through to twilight
Searching for Prince Charming
Or at least an armoured knight
And all the yellow brick roads
The frogs I had to kiss
Were nothing more than fables
With a dark malicious twist
I met a few Pinocchio's
Trolls at the very least
Spent nights in the dungeon
Less Beauty, more the Beast
And if you go down to the woods today
You're in for a big suprise
I've had enough of the big bad wolf
And his cunning, filthy lies
So promise me, my princess
As you fly with fairy dust
Your breadcrumbs always lead back home
Because I loved you first
For my little girl.
Don't make the mistakes I did.