Best Girly Poems
These pink glassy stones
Don't have any uses
If I run out of reasons
I'll make up excuses
They wallow in bowls
for pure decoration
and hated by every
man in the nation.
12th June 2011
Milly and Jilly played afternoon tea
With delicious cakes and fine pottery
Both looked pretty with flowers in their hair
And faces aglow, such a happy pair.
They drank all the tea and ate all the cakes
Not a crumb was left, they had cleared their plates
Happily they sang their favourite songs
Their mommas joined in with the sing-along.
Soon they were sleepy and needed a rest
They kissed their mommas, said they were the best
Before sleep they recited a prayer
Thanking the Lord for His love and His care.
Cute little Charlotte had a curly curl
everyone thought her a girly girl
a sweet, secret smile
men she would beguile
then bade them all to give her a whirl
I have wondered at what completeness truly is....
What would “walking on hot coals” actually feel like?
Would completeness really involve that?
And if it did, could I actually do it?
I have wondered at wholeness....
Would I recognise it?
Doubted it could be mine.
Surely I would know?
I have wondered at happiness....
Pondered over its everlasting-ness.
Experienced so much, lost so much.
Had to pinch myself to check it’s real.
I have wondered at undying love....
Whether it was something I could experience?
Believing that it can never die.
A dream to reality, shocked by its intensity.
I have wondered at trust....
Dare I dip a toe in, after bitter experiences?
Leave myself open and venerable?
Then without realising it I find I already do.
I have wondered at finding “the one”...
Whether I would recognise him.
Become the one for someone too.
And you are here, my world is shining.
I have wondered at feeling loved....
Totally without restrictions or reservations.
Envied the mere thought and imagined it.
Now I thank you for being you, and loving me.
©.L.Kelly
There once was a little girly
Who thought she was the best
She was confident so early
She knew she is different from the rest
But one day she saw someone
Who was like no one
He was always ahead
And that girly was afraid
She lost all of herself
She thought she is worthless
She screamed "I hate Myself!"
She saw herself in darkness
But one day she noticed light
She ran to see what it is
It was to erase her plight
As it was a mirror telling her how incredible she is.
Girly Time
Women do wear watches
why can’t they tell the time
Them watches should be bigger
with a megatronic chime
Ladies think appointments
are a little like a date
They keep their doctor keen
by being twenty minutes late
My wife booked up the dentist
an appointment made for ten
She grabbed her coat and left the house
a minute before then
The trouble is it’s quite a drive
half hour door to door
And then we face the car park
and so she’s late once more
Although she wears a watch
the battery ran out yesterday
She asked me if I’d fix it
and then went on to say
‘I can’t believe the battery’s flat
I nearly had a fit,
although I’ve had this watch for years
I rarely look at it,’
I give her constant time checks
every five minutes or ten
I wonder if it’s likely
that they’d wanna sell Big Ben
She says, ‘I’m not a child
stop telling me the time
and please don’t tell whole damned world
about me in a rhyme’
Of course, once we get on our way
then nothing is her fault
She’s bellows at the car in front
a geriatric sort
We’ll be late she says
because that geezer’s driving slow
He should appreciate that some folk
have some place to go
Well I just drive and bite my lip
I think that’s always best
She can’t drive cos she turned up
too late for her test
I even pointed out back then
she should respect the time
She used two fingers to tell me
to ‘just get lost’...
in mime
I was never a girly-girl.
I am not a sorting, throwing away, cleaning girl.
I am definitely not a wash-the-dishes or wash-the-clothes girl.
I am more of a fill-up-your-spaces with junk girl.
Buckets of junk, baskets of junk, junk to
Put junk in, junk to sit on top of other junk.
I love thrift stores, garage sales, and flea markets.
Antique malls in town have my credit card number
On file in case I lose it again.
Being prissy is not for me.
Neither is being a girl; I’m a wild woman.
Definitely a SEASONED woman.
Confined in the heart and mind
Of a 9-year-old boy.
The boy side of me laughs
Silently at the prissy people who
Sort and purge and clean.
What sillies!
Wasting their time on something that keeps need re-doing,re-doing,re-doing.
My children can sort my junk after I’m gone. Or the grandchildren can.
I need a VCR to expain some things
like
Why they called me an bundle of sticks
or told me to shut the front door in my face.
My first Ladies' fest of course
taught me to follow mom's rose petals
to the soup kitchen
age 11 and we can find my mother together there
Before that it was
"He-She" or "It"
when they called me
any names at all
Purple hair after living overseas
Behind my long hair are tears
I already left Korea a young girl
I didn't see Vietnam yet
Coming home I learn I hate school
and I am alone in my home town
The best frenemies, bullies aren't
any older than me yet
'Go get the strongest fighter
Fiercest I don't know or care!'
Before that
a room beside the class
We hide so close to
The homophobic driver
A survivor of what next
I didn't ever expect
A White room with a tv
above a blank table top
Driver is the game they task
in middle school
if is it real
what do you intend to do?
they ask
attacking us
what's this about?
the dangers of us, or them?
That's Bully for you dear.
Girly hedgehog is so feminine and fine
She should have suiters falling down in a line
My hair is perfect, my smile is a delight
What is wrong with these boys? They simply aren’t right!
Maybe you are too perfect, a butterfly suggests.
I agree! Throws in a wise robin from her perch on her nest.
You mean I am too good for all of them? Hey! That’s probably true!
So the stuck-on-herself hedgehog was now happy, not blue.
Crown of gold curls in rainbow wrappers.
Girly-girl, at two, favored to be beautiful.
Eyelids delight to be painted baby-girl green.
Dolly’s lascivious lashes soaked in black ink.
Innocent strawberries dot baby-blue sleeveless top.
Soon, she’ll be strapless, primping at the vanity.
For now, she holds a mirror with her eyes closed;
her reflection not quite perfected; a natural blush
of lips, cherub-cheeks and baby-fat skin. Shedding
the green, pink, yellow rollers with angel hair bouncing
off her shoulders, and rolling out the hourglass figure
with a perfect pout and hips that shout ‘look at me.’
Indeed, at two years old, she looks in the mirror,
smiles, as her mother approves, and daddy sits
in his easy chair, not knowing to be bothered by
the impending storm of unsuitable guys at the door.
Scrunchies and spongies and panties.
Oh all the many things a girl needs.
Lilian invited us to her recital
she was a quintessential tomboy
We could not imagine her in a skirt
Or as a dancer
We attended anyway, for she was our friend.
We had always seen her in bulky sweats.
We had no idea she was light on her feet
or that she could look girly.
The prima donna was a whirlwind of activity
she looked like a bonfire, popping in oranges and yellows
Glitzy sparks appeared to leap from her tulle skirt.
We were mesmerized, was that Lilian?
She held us captive with her beauty.
We would never see her as a lumpy tomboy again.
Now that we had seen her as a dancer.
She was exquisite, the quintessential ballerina!
.
again
there be
two uv yuh
and y'all know
it be thuh awesome
muse for this scop
yesss
i love thuh way
y'all do that
up end
down
i hope it doesn't
hurt tuh do
that
do y'all move
washerz and dryerz
az well
')
whut
Girly Pumpkin Head is sitting on the front stoop
Around the side of the glorious scarecrow chicken coop
The teenage ghosts and ghouls are giving her the eye
Watch out! Says Grim Reaper, you do not want to die.
You see, he has his scythe out and is ready to rumble.
With a rock and a roll the October clouds give a grumble.
Girly Pumpkin Head is stirring up the Halloween crowd.
They are excited to see her, she is pretty and proud.
swirly girly colorful wonderful faerie
your tangerine pink hair makes my heart leap
joy, enthusiasm and creativity surround me
when you creep next to my ear
whispering a new poem