Best Gabrielle Poems
Oh, Gabrielle
Beautiful, funny, sexy, loud
Who cheats on her husband
She has tons of domestic struggles
Secrets and crimes, mysteries to hide
Your a housewife who never does housework
An accent that makes men swoon
Acts dumb but is cunning and cruel
Can be loud and obnoxious
Can tell a good lie . . .
I love that laugh
Oh, she is beautiful and devious
She is hot and she knows it
And she tells me she sleeps like an angel
Angel!!! That you will never be, Gabrielle
The ladies on Wisteria Lane have a name for you
But being a lady, I cannot say it
She knows what she wants and goes for it
No matter who it hurts,
Oh, Gabrielle how can someone so lovely
Be so evil inside
Maybe if we become friends
I can change your attitude, what do you think
Want to come for tea at two
No husband or boyfriend to steal
I am a single girl
Come on, Gabrielle
For once just be a regular person
Wouldn't that be an easier life for you
________________________________
May 29, 2016
Poetry/Free Verse/Oh, Gabrielle
Copyright Protected, ID 16-795-969-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Inspired by the character, Gabrielle Solis
on Desperate Housewife's, played by Eva Langoria
For the contest, Desperate Housewife's
sponsor, Poet Destroyer
Fourth Place
Hawaii’s coffee is Kona
Mexico’s beer is Corona
But Tucson loves Stock
And now owns a used Glock
For the gun culture of Arizona
Author's note: News flash--Glocks are now flying off the shelves in Arizona.
Gabrielle
Patron saint of death and resurrection.
The revealer, who answered Daniel's questions.
With the strength of God, she came to me,
and quietly snuck out at 4am
After taking my confession.
Gabrielle...long ago I fell prey to her predatory spell
like a fallen angel in a bottomless well
twisted tale of love and truth that i've gotta tell
Gabrielle...sweet beauty transforms into a sour beast
from the top of her crown to the bottom of her feet
from the largest to the least
she leaves me weak while she's subtracting my strength
her lunacy has no length
Gabrielle...cold conquest queen
Gabrielle...turning whispers into whirlwinds and dreams into nightmares
her pretty face turns into a menacing stare
where iron eagles dare i fly away with her straight into the sun
i melt in her madness like a rabbit on the run
Gabrielle...blasting shots from her love gun
Gabrielle...running fast forward but i'm still in reverse
what i thought was a blessing was an evil erotic curse
Gabrielle drives the herse and places flowers of forever on my sinful shallow grave
Gabrielle...now eternally i'm her soul slave
I see her in the sunlight as the breeze runs gentle fingers through her hair.
And it is quite a joyful sight to see her smile sneak up unaware.
And I believe I could spend the rest of my life just staring in her eyes.
And it would be my heart's delight for just one minute to see past her disguise.
If I could feel her hand in mine
I tell you that would be divine.
We could be happy but only time will tell
Just me, just me and Gabrielle.
I guess I don't understand just why, but she really knocks me out.
And I don't think there's any way I can withstand her pretty little pout.
And I am sure I could spend the rest of my days listening to her voice.
I'm constantly amazed by my reaction, but I guess I have no choice.
If I could feel her hand in mine
I tell you that would be divine.
We could be happy but only time will tell
Just me, just me and Gabrielle.
Suddenly she's moving in a complicated dance.
She does it so smoothly it puts me in a trance.
I can't help but wonder if I'd ever have a chance
To feel a little bit of her romance.
I see her in the moonlight with the echo of the stars within her eyes.
It is quite a joyful sight but leaves my thinking so disorganized.
And I believe I could spend the rest of my life following her around.
And it would be my heart's delight if she would just return the love I've found.
If I could feel her hand in mine
I tell you that would be divine.
We could be happy but only time will tell
Just me, just me and Gabrielle.
Not Anne, But Gabrielle
by Gabrielle Munslow
If you want me to take you to another time,
take my hand.
Don’t furrow your brow.
Slick with storylines,
my tongue twists
like an adder.
Poetry spills—
some good, some bad,
but always real.
I write of suffering.
I write of death.
I write of want.
No pretty, prophetic prose.
But I can still
slip a ditty off my toes.
I am Anne with an E.
No bird.
No net ensnares me.
Still, I rest,
and language thrills my bones.
Time stills—
or quickens.
Language isn’t luxury;
it’s necessity.
Down rabbit holes I go,
deep and twisted.
I braid my breath into roots.
I speak to the dirt,
and it answers.
Once a girl.
Now a woman,
retelling her youth.
I
am not Anne with an E.
I am Gabrielle—
with poems for sale.
?
© 2025 Gabrielle Munslow. All rights reserved.
This poem may not be reproduced, distributed, or performed without the author’s permission.