Best Girls Poems
Four “Golden Girls” seated at a table
Grey streaks our hair, but minds remain stable
Convention is underway
Michael has something to say
He opens our meeting with a fable
It’s about a tortoise that beats a hare
Some of the “fast writers” begin to glare
Joyce, Francine and Barbara know
It takes time for verse to grow
We’re the queens of rewriting; this we swear
Iolanda’s introduced to read her book
“Lava of my Soul,” no gobbledygook
We’re mesmerized by each line
At the end we toast with wine
Joyce says, “Now those words took some time to cook.”
It’s Karen’s turn to read “Silent Whispers”
We see tears falling into John’s whiskers
“Tears of joy,” Francine exclaims
For Karen’s Best Seller fame
Applause rings out from grateful listeners
After the “meet and greet” it’s nearly dawn
The crowd starts to thin as our comrades yawn
Joyce, Francine call it a night
But Barbara still sits upright
We two remain when most others are gone
One poet called us “Late Night Cockroaches”
This indignity did not encroach us
We call ourselves “LNCs”
Awake in wee hours with ease
Waiting for our princes to approach us
That’s when the James Brothers draw near
Peranteau and Fraser, to make it clear
With two erotic writers
LNCs pull “all nighters”
Knowing that we can propose; it’s Leap Year!
*Entry for Michael’s “A Table of Four” contest
At my table: Carolyn Devonshire
Joyce Johnson
Francine Roberts
Barbara Gorelick
My muse has been hiding out
And with no peep, squeak or shout
She must be sound asleep
No words, just counting sheep
Tired of the poetry drought
Oh where, O where has my gypsy muse flown
Seems she has left me to write on my own
I must not be too rude
She'll cop an attitude
And then taunt me like an evil old crone
Mine vanished after my last book
I've rested and changed my outlook
My brain ran out of juice
And my 'vowels' were loose
Twas quite a feat that my muse took
Honestly, I think mine is rebelling
But there is absolutely no telling
What my missing muse might do
I dare not call her a shrew
Or she'll never return to my dwelling
Upon my desk, I see she's left a note
"I'm on a vacation," is what she wrote
"Perhaps I should've phoned
To say I won't be owned."
Should I have mentioned her in a footnote?
Perhaps she's in a gypsy caravan
Seeking a lover, a Romani man
Living a nomadic life
If he takes her for his wife
I'll need a new muse and a new game plan
My muse is now knocking on my door
Searching for my words left on the floor
She is gathering my lines
Blending them like a fine wine
Hoping for a few new poems and more
Well, recently my muse returned
Her holiday was very well earned
I'll write sensible words
Not on pooping or turds
Poop poetry, my muse has spurned
My muse is back after weeks refusing
And now she can't stop yakking and schmoozing
Three muses have returned
But we're a lil' concerned...
What if we don't find their thoughts amusing?
*Collaboration of Tania, Jan and Lin
My muse has been hiding out
And with no peep, squeak or shout
She must be sound asleep
No words, just counting sheep
Tired of the poetry drought
Oh where, O where has my gypsy muse flown
Seems she has left me to write on my own
I must not be too rude
She'll cop an attitude
And then taunt me like an evil old crone
Mine vanished after my last book
I've rested and changed my outlook
My brain ran out of juice
And my 'vowels' were loose
Twas quite a feat that my muse took
Honestly, I think mine is rebelling
But there is absolutely no telling
What my missing muse might do
I dare not call her a shrew
Or she'll never return to my dwelling
Upon my desk, I see she's left a note
"I'm on a vacation," is what she wrote
"Perhaps I should've phoned
To say I won't be owned."
Should I have mentioned her in a footnote?
Perhaps she's in a gypsy caravan
Seeking a lover, a Romani man
Living a nomadic life
If he takes her for his wife
I'll need a new muse and a new game plan
My muse is now knocking on my door
Searching for my words left on the floor
She is gathering my lines
Blending them like a fine wine
Hoping for a few new poems and more
Well, recently my muse returned
Her holiday was very well earned
I'll write sensible words
Not on pooping or turds
Poop poetry, my muse has spurned
My muse is back after weeks refusing
And now she can't stop yakking and schmoozing
Three muses have returned
But we're a lil' concerned...
What if we don't find their thoughts amusing?
A is for Annie Apple Blossom she buds in the Spring.
B is Betty Baby Breath she's such a dainty thing.
C is for Miss Candy Tuft pink-cheeked with hair of gold.
D is Debbie Dandelion who never does what she's told!
E is for Easter Lily she's as white as snow.
F is Francie Fairy Bells who ring-a-lings where she goes.
G is for Ginny Gardenia perfumed oh so sweet.
H is Holly Hocks a Tomboy, she has two left feet!
I is for Inca Lily dressed in colors light.
J is Joanie Jump-Ups, Johnny's little sister bright.
K is for Katie Kangaroo Paw her nails are painted red.
L is Lila Lady Slipper who stays too long a bed.
M is for Merry Morning Glory dressed in pale blue.
N is Nancy Narcissus who trumpets ""toodeloo!"
O is for Olivia the Ox-Eyed Daisy dolly.
P is Patty Petunia, her pancakes are a folly.
Q is for Queenie Anns Lace her dresses all have ruffles.
R is Ruby Rose-a-lee who almost always shuffles.
S is for Sandy Snap Dragon tall and thin. petite.
T is Tallulah Tulip her clothes are so off beat!
U is for Uma Umbrella Flower, sweet and sunny.
V is Vicky Violet she plays with Easter bunnies.
W is for Wendy Water Lily she'd rather swim than dance.
X is Xana Xmas Tree in Winter she's entrancing.
Y is for Yani Yarrow, a girl so bonny fair
Z is Zelda Zinnia, she pinning Yani's hair.
All our girls are fine and strong, so beautiful and brave
Not a single one of them would think to misbehave!
Bio: Wise woman.
Inside our parents’ bedroom by the door,
our sister Jenny played the old piano.
From all of us a melody would soar
in varying degrees of voice soprano.
A high soprano Jennifer would sing
as pretty Melanie would sing along.
The house with lovely harmony would ring
when I and Dori “seconded” the song.
For church we’d often render “Silent Night.”
Our tiny congregation made such fuss
as if we were four angels in their sight,
and Mom would fairly swoon with pride for us.
Of whims that took no flight I am lamenting;
Mom’s dream, “The Miller Girls . . . now presenting!”
For Sonnet on an Intimate Relationship Poetry Contest:
My best intimate relationship began at home. My four lovely sisters, three of whom are mentioned here, will always be the greatest of my friends.
A poem about infanticide of girls...
"Save Our Sisters!"
Many girls lost, many girls missed
Many girls lost, never to be Ms.
Strings of girls, strands of pearls,
Gone, gone, gone. Pretty, pretty, girls.
A mother's hug, a sister’s laugh, a daughter’s kiss
Lost, lost, lost. Missed, missed, missed.
Many girls lost, many girls missed
Many girls lost, never to be Ms.
Young girls grow up, become young ladies.
But for Indian girls, that’s a big maybe
Young girls grow up, become young ladies.
But for Chinese girls, that’s a big maybe,
Many girls lost, many girls missed
Many girls lost, never to be Ms.
Run, Run, Run, hide your daughters,
Run, Run, Run. Run from the slaughter.
Wake up world, we’ve lost too many sisters.
S.O.S. World, Save Our Souls, Save Our Sisters.
NoelsArt
Comments: In some parts of the world, the three deadliest words are “It’s a girl”. Girls are killed for being girls. After watching this movie trailer http://www.itsagirlmovie.com/ , I wrote the poem above. FEEDBACK WELCOME.
Blue Girls
John Crowe Ransom
Styling in your leggings, wildly designed,
Strutting to classes in your modern schools—
While texting. Roll your eyes at those old fools
Who think they're so refined.
Toss back the pink extensions in your hair,
And think no more of SAT's at all.
But plan to meet bff's at the mall
To shop for earrings there.
Make duck-face selfies while guys who watch dream
about your lovely, well-toned flesh so tight.
It will sag some day, bringing no delight—
in spite of firming creams.
You think I don't know beauty, but I do!
I know a woman with a poison tongue
and beady eyes that used to be bright-blue.
She turned heads near and far when she was young
and surely knocked the shine off all of you.
i was seven the day they knocked —
“can we play with the spanish girls?”
yaphia and tarita,
smiling like the sun outside our door.
mama laughed,
said “spanish girls?”
because yaphia’s father was puerto rican too.
and that was the start -
the start of everything.
we held each other like secrets -
first periods, first kisses, first heartbreaks,
all the firsts we whispered into the walls.
we cut class, we laughed, we cried,
we failed, we succeeded,
we survived.
there were things no one said out loud -
but we carried them all the same,
in glances, in silence,
in the way Fire looked when no one was watching,
in the way Tarita’s smile flickered just before the storm.
we’re mothers now,
with children and husbands and lives that pull us apart,
but when we meet -
time folds.
no distance, no years,
just the same three girls
with the same unspoken pact.
whatever secret needs telling,
we tell.
whatever joy needs celebrating,
we celebrate.
no questions asked.
no judgment given.
we are more than what tried to break us.
we are the mothers, the sisters, the keepers of light
who never forgot how to hold each other.
we carry each other still -
in laughter, in tears, in the spaces between.
and i love you, girls,
more than words in this letter can hold.
thank you for being my safe place -
then, now, always.
(a disastrous morning Sonnet)
I am the very model of a girl who’s late for morning meal,
my charger failed, the printer jammed, the morning’s start has been surreal
I lost a scrunchy and a shoe, I had to use some dry shampoo
my Keurig had no k-cups too, so I’m feeling like a total shrew!
Our pre-dawn jog went really well, but now the morning's gone to hell
I couldn’t find clean underwear, I’m desperate to charge my cell,
I got some soap in my left eye, I stubbed my toe and nearly cried
While brushing teeth and hair in haste, I wonder why I even try.
Anna’s got an attitude; she’s not someone who’s normally rude
her hookup so ‘experimental’ has an irregular sleep-in schedule
how’s she going to get to class if she’s babysitting sleeping-lass
I guess I’m not the only one, who’s schedules simply come undone.
I woke her with a gentle voice and soothed her out—we had no choice
My morning happened to sideways go—but it fueled this grandiloquent tale of woe!
.
.
A song for this:
Something Stupid by Michael Bublé and Reese Witherspoon
if you took the time
to look into a girls heart
you'd find friends and family
nestled permanently in every corner
you'd find secrets and lies
locked in cages and hidden deep within
you'd drown in the love
and suffocate in the pain
you'd see the poor stitching
holding together the wounds
and watch the memorable moments
playing on repeat
you'd see all the tear stains
etched into its core
you'd witness everything she had to withstand
and how much strength it took to pull through
who was always there to lend a hand
or a shoulder
you'd realize what made her who she is
and what made her strong
especially when things went wrong
***************************************************************
Her dampened auburn hair, flowing perfectly atop the pillow...
Gazing into her pure emerald eyes; slowly kissing, her pink parting lips
The warmth of her ivory breast, caressing my own; so very soft
Smiling as lowering her silkened fingers, to touch my perfumed heart
Gently closing my loving eyes; tingling, in crystals wedding bells...
***************************************************************
..."Girls In Love" *
Girls love can be bitter,love can be sweet,
Take this warning,don't hurry to fall in love
with every man that you meet,
Don't let the first hello or pretty smile,sweep
you off your feet,
Take time and get to know the man that you meet,
You didn't take warning,instead,
The first date,a kiss on your forehead,
The second,a kiss on your cheek,
On the third date,tongue pass teeth,
Three days after you meet,you are under the sheet,
Madly in love and it's not even a week,
Then here comes bitter,out goes sweet,
You start seeing him less,your life feels incomplete,
You check out his file and finds out he has two
girls on the block and a big woman down the street,
You talk to him about it, he threatens to knock out
your teeth,
Your loving relationship,only lasted three weeks,
It could have been avoided,more bitter than sweet....
dedicated to my 2 daughters Roxxanna 24,and Shanique 18,
daddy loves you.....
. "Listen first,.....to the voice in your head"
Okay, …if only we can catch the waitress’s eye, we could order more tea…
Can hardly believe it… Joan is still complaining about her in-laws
Peg interrupts, excusing herself to go to the ladies room
What was it she said about her husband burning breakfast?
It must have been funny, since everyone is laughing…
----
My eyes wander to the window….
I see some geese in the sky
Heading north... Oh my, summer has gone so quickly…
I must get the family together and go out to the lake one more time
We'll take a picnic, and let the children feed the geese...
I'll remember to buy day-old bread just for that,...
but we'll have to watch the children..
Last time one goose chased Suzanna, and she fell down, ....
…made her cry,…poor thing
It is so beautiful on the east shore….hopefully the water isn’t too cold
Maybe the children can still enjoy a swim…yes…we must do that soon….
----
Oops, Peg's back from the Ladies......
I'll scoot over, to make more room,.....
Hmm..looks like she's done something different with her hair...
Joan is still chattering about her weekend with the in-laws.....
----
How I long to be back at the lake again….on the beach in the sun….
Oh look there…just outside the window…
a whirlwind is gathering up a few leaves
Already rust and brown…edges curled with the touch of autumn
Yes, ….summer has gone so quickly…
.... .... .... .... .... ....
For the Contest: Summer's End
Three Little Girls:
That's what we were,
Standing outside the school,
You, me, and her.
I remember how it felt
When you began to cry,
The weighted look of sadness
Reflecting in your eyes.
You missed the place you'd been before,
Where you had built a life,
And here among such harshness,
You had met much strife.
A year later, two little girls we were,
The other off on her own.
We were two in love with the same boy,
And a great friendship had grown.
You'd tease me and we'd laugh,
For hours that seemed like days,
And even though it was you he chose,
Our friendship did not go away.
Two little girls: that's what we were,
Friends until the very end.
As the years passed by,
More & more time together we would spend.
Though maybe not as close,
Were we, as I wish we could have been,
Our friendship was a strong one,
Unlike any I had seen.
You never pulled away,
Or said you needed space.
You'd greet me at the door, We'd link arms, a great smile upon your face.
One little girl: that's what I am,
Now that you left me.
I needed you so much,
But I suppose you never really did see.
Two friends, we are, torn apart,
However, our friendship will live on.
For true friendship knows know limits,
The barrier an invisible line that has been drawn.
You're still with me, here, even today,
But your smile I cannot see.
Though you pulled away,
We're closer now than I could have ever hoped to be.
Two little girls: that's what we are,
For no one could pull us apart.
Just like those still with me,
You'll be forever in my heart.
If I had known you'd leave me here alone,
I would have tied you to my side.
I knew not of your intentions,
For the truth you chose to hide.
You haven't left me here alone,
I just long to hear your voice.
You wrote "The End" to your story,
Without giving me a choice.
If I could, I'd hug you now,
The way I forgot to before.
You're still here with me,
But somehow I want more.
I want your laughter to ring out,
Your song to echo through the halls,
To see again the look upon your face when
We went exploring and found only horses' stalls.
I don't want to be one little girl,
Why did our fun have to end?
I want to be two little girls,
Not one who misses her friend.
When a brainy girl is pretty
She turns a gritty mask
To those who don't know shitty
And always have to ask