Best Good Looks Poems
A long long time ago there lived a king.
His lovely daughter he’d give anything.
She walked about, jewels dripping from each hand,
talking down to all, thinking she was grand.
There was but one thing missing from her life.
But not one prince desired her for his wife.
Her personality repulsed all men.
They’d meet her once, then not see her again.
Her father found for her one rich old king
but she preferred young, handsome and charming.
One day the perfect suitor came along.
This handsome man wooed Roseanne with a song.
How beautiful his voice! How sweet his face.
A man was he of talent and of grace.
The opposite of spoiled Roseanne was he.
The king arranged their wedding anxiously!
However, no one knew from whence he came.
Though very rich, this young prince had no fame.
How was it he could even stand Roseanne,
the princess from whom all the others ran?
He had so much. Why waste it all on her?
Despite good looks, Roseanne had no allure.
One thing he asked for. This is what he said:
“Inside my castle we must both be wed.”
The wedding guests felt great relief and bliss,
for Roseanne soon would get her first true kiss!
But unbeknownst to them, the handsome man
Roseanne was marrying had his own plan.
When he was young, a witch on him had cast
a spell! It would be broken now at last!
The ceremony started. Vows were said.
The prince then raised the veil from his wife’s head.
He softly kissed her lips. Then something weird!
The castle they all stood in disappeared.
The wedding guests waist-high in water stood.
The prince changed too, and he did not look good.
His voice so beautiful became a croak.
The king stood there about to have a stroke!
The splendid castle had become a bog;
The groom leaped happily – once more a frog!
Written March 5, 2017
Entry for John Hamilton's the Best rhyming poem 3 Poetry Contest
She senses before she sees
The manicured nails - the elegant fingers
Holding out the hundred dollar bills - enticingly - so temptingly
A generous nights takings of busking here
In one proffered hand
She grabs at it petrified it might be an illusion
Evaporating in a puff of smoke
Fingers hold it back, teasingly
Compelling eye contact
She looks up sceptically
Dark eyes meet her aqua blues, sparking a sort of affinity
‘Eyes are the window of one’s soul’- so it is said in all sincerity
But the magnetic dark eyes of her enticer are fathomless in their intensity
His type she has encountered before - money for favours
Well she is no novice - a living after all - a girl has to make
And his generous offer rivals his devilish good looks
But she senses a darkness favouring the energy emanating
A cold shiver runs through her veins like someone just walked on her grave
Fear ripples down her spine akin to a stroking finger chilled in ice
The spell he casts foreboding
The calmness of the night has taken flight
In its haste to set the macabre scene
Mesmerising are the eyes that bore into hers
Projected thoughts furtively slip into her mind
Infiltrating it like a slithery snake
Bringing with it forbidden thoughts of desire
She falls into the inky black abyss
Succumbing to heady dark passionate conceptualization
However the chilling message is coherent
This is not a mere opportunistic one night stand
That he desires
This is more - so much more
This is taboo concupiscence unleashed
This is her life in exchange for what?
Her life for immortality?
Surely not!
Yet his eyes eloquently convey it all
The hunger so unconcealed - so transparently flagrant
To yield to darkness
Satisfying his appetite for
Death of a different nature?
Obliteration of life as she knows it to be
Tenebrous Immortality in exchange for her blood
A prelude to his finale of taking her soul
And then a metamorphosis
From Prey to Predator
Video clip -
Like a Vampire- Catrien Maxwell
Inexpert at rhyme
or singing in time
I bray like a laryngitic donkey
my artwork's inept
I'm ham-fisted except
when doodling things that are wonky
Of style I'm bereft
my feet are both left
splayed in an opposite direction;
'tis little wonder
I blindfully blunder
into despair and abject dejection
My mind is a bog
of gunk and cheap grog
my gray matter's shrinking, I fear
today is a haze
yesterday a maze
and everything's clearly unclear
My dress sense is eish
and fits not my niche
nor do my shorts, come to that
my flip-flops are worn
my t-shirts all torn
one boob is fat, one is flat!
Despite many a flaw
I'm not an eyesore
though ungainly and lacking in style
with my stunning good looks
I easily hooked
your soon-to-be-ex with my smile
She is the talk of the town, every season that passes
You'll see her around,.... Miss Sassy Pistashe
Who flaunts her good looks, preening over the sage
When she makes her grand entrance, she’s the rage of the stage!
Changing clothes after summer, wearing feathers, so brash
she is queen of the, autumn, with a flaming red sash
She's never discreet, is quite daring and chic’
and will steal all the limelight, upon every hill
She upstages poor Willow, who seems rather ill
will outshine Miss Maple, …out-dresses Miss Ash
With colors of fire, and a 'come hither' tease
Her wiles shock onlookers, with each crimson leaf
She flashes her limbs and wiggles her twigs
She loves to show off, with her bright scarlet wig
Never humble, she’s bold, loves to put on a show
Even Miss Sunset, has felt rather low
She tends to be rash….Miss Sassy Pistashe’
At the first sign of chill, she will toss feathered leaves
She will even bare limbs…and dance in the breeze
Late in the season, she changes her tune
Bends all her branches, and makes valleys swoon
But she doesn't catch cold, ...she thrives by the moon
She has thrown off her clothes, each leaf she has grown
To be 'gone with the wind', like that Scarlet, we've known
Stealing the limelight, with no modesty,…then…
Comes back in the autumn......begging attention again!!
______________________________________________
Personifcation of Pistashe' Tree
For Contest sponsored by Lewis Raynes
She and the handsome gentleman finalized the contract, and he gently placed
the antique pearl necklace into the palm of her tiny hand. As he walked away,
she fantasized about making love with him, for he possessed both charm and
exceptional good looks; he certainly was enchanting...thick, black wavy hair,grey-
green eyes...tall...muscular ~ oh, those muscles...all over his tanned body...head
to toe.
But she wondered about that limp as he walked away, depending on a heavy
metal
staff
for
balance...
after all, an eternity of beauty and power in exchange for
one
pathetic
soul.
The evening of the deed was a frigid six degrees, and there was a dead smell of
the sun. She stayed late after work, waiting anxiously until everyone had gone.
Finally, he was alone in his office, so she placed the pearl necklace around her
fragile neck and unbuttoned her red, silk blouse so to reveal her sexy red
camisole.
She entered the office, and gently leaned over him from behind; he was aroused
by the scent of her "Red Door" cologne...his favorite, and his senses were even
more heightened as he turned around and observed her erect breasts speaking
in a language only he understood. With his large hands, he slowly explored her
thighs, making his way up her black skirt.
"You have beautiful legs."
"You think so, huh?"
They kissed, and the necklace brushed his chest; he didn't feel well, at all. He
was hot...so hot, and his body began its metamorphosis, retaining a grayish
tinge....then blackish...
He
burst
into
flames;
then, disappeared along with all omens of the deed.
She walked over to the black wrought iron mirror and smiled; her wrinkles were
gone...vanished...just as promised; she was ten years younger.
The windows began sweating, and the handsome stranger appeared.
"I have one more assignment for you."
"But we made a deal, one soul."
She began to feel peculiar, and as she viewed herself in the black mirror, she
began aging...ten years...twenty...thirty...she pulled out a large clump of thin, white
hair.
The room darkened from his moonly mind.
"My dear, the other soul...is yours."
we may have the blues
should stop then we will amuse
choose the proper shoes
read news page by page
when my bright mind may engage
could see cat in cage
constant covenant
good looks appeared prevalent
where ever she went
there had been much trash
we could see in Calabash
things may cost much and cash
saw pretty Persian
scattered in a dispersion
while on an excursion
had been escorted
became badly distorted
will be deported
Dandelions, babies crying
walking in the woods,
astronomy, philosophy
chickadees and childhood.
Speckled trout, (a technical knock-out)
strawberries red and sweet,
winter, spring, summer, fall
Butterfinger and little "Twinkie" treats.
Dragon flies, questions why
There’s anything at all,
Making mistakes baking cup cakes
Cumulous clouds and rainfall.
Dancing, prancing and romancing
singing by-gone songs,
Christmas giving, loving, living
here at home and gone.
Wishing wells, magic spells
rivers, lakes, seashores,
children growing never knowing
what's in store.
Big parades in sun and shade
wild animals in the park,
ice cold beer and someone near
when comets pass in the dark.
Climbing mountains, drinking fountains
Liars, tricksters, cheats,
Saving grace and holiness
And poetry that speaks.
Dishes, wishes
and a pocketful of dreams,
Timbuctoo, Kalamazoo
New York and New Orleans.
And boats that sail watching whales
reading, writing books,
never-ending always spending
money on good looks.
History, wizardry and mysteries
inside a grain of sand,
life and death like old Macbeth
we may never understand.
A heavy breath fell warm against the red curtains that hid the magic of the stage
A book read again and again truly has touched the eyes of the heart, from the very first page
Chapters of unfolding mystery, suspense and anxiety holding hands giving you that energetic rage
The script in his mind, verses and simulated facial expressions, his given talent at a young age
A unsteady crowd set the tune in the theatre where his talent surely would come to life
Confident to his act, he walked onto the stage, and a huge applause welcomed his good looks
A young man whom stood to his studies, always finding answers in his books
Red, perhaps yellow or maybe even green would be his outfit, but an act never in strife
The gentle for seen gave tune to his heart, it began to sing
Gently, softly flowing music ceased the upbeat in the unsteady crowd
From one note to the other note, sound to sound all with the stroke of a tuned string
Alas the climax of the scene was at peak in the center stage, flowers raining down on him loud
A dream, a vision for seen by his life before finally came to be
His art melted even the hardest hearts scattered in the audience
All in time a dream fulfilled, careless yet hard patience
Yet time did take the long ways there, upon arrival all his trouble was set free
Whether its an act or a scene in you already troubled life, one must be a peace with time
For time passed can never return to be changed, pay ear to my rhyme
Yee shall come to see, joy at heart only Christ can give
Pause, end your act, and He will enter you, love you shall receive
So you want to be an angel?
The good Lord said to me,
Do you think it will be easy
To be spiritual and free?
He said "I guess we'll try it"
So he sent me here to live,
He told me I would learn a lot
On how to take, and how to give.
He set up many hardships
That I really must endure,
He made sure I wasn't rich,
He made sure that I was poor.
He didn't give me good looks,
He didn't make me smart,
He just gave me the very basics
To go ahead and start.
It's been many years
That he's let me stay around,
He hasn't called me home as yet
He's seen me smile, he's seen me frown.
I often stop and think
Have I passed the angel test,
Have I done all I can
Have I tried my very best?
And when he calls me home
Sometime late at night,
Will he send me back again
Until I get it right?
Or will he let me have my wings,
My halo gold, and bright,
Will I get to wear that lovely gown
That gown of Angel White......
Lynn Barany
Collections
In a little purse she carried
She called “her so many things,”
When her Mama had to tarry,
She’d play with her so many “blings.”
There was a ten cent plastic dolly,
A handkerchief for her nose;
A rock of a pinkish color,
In the general shape of a rose.
Her little purse finally discarded,
For a red backpack filled with books,
A collection of lipsticks, a cell phone,
With pictures of boys with good looks.
Little girl’s purse is now a Femdi,
She grew up so rich and so wise,
It is filled with money and makeup,
A collection of no surprise.
"Good deeds are more important than good looks."
The proverb was first recorded by Chaucer in 'The Wife of Bath's Tale' (c. 1387)
You saw the beauty past her scars.
You looked inside her fragile soul.
You cared not for the angry wars.
You sought the good the battles stole.
You sang with angels through the stars.
You set compassion as your goal.
You took care when you consoled her.
Beautiful is the beholder.
Erin Moran has died at the age of fifty-six.
She was special and a credit to all chicks.
She was adorable when she starred as Joanie Cunningham.
When a person dies that young, it's always hard to understand.
I learned about her death on Facebook and it made me feel bad.
When we learned of her passing, it was tragic and so very sad.
She had a wonderful figure and good looks.
When we watched her on Happy Days, we were hooked.
She died too young and her death has devastated her fans.
Sadly, we have to say goodbye to the talented Erin Moran.
[Dedicated to Erin Moran (1960-2017) who died on April 22, 2017.]
That irresistible heartthrob is me;
who has a smile more charming than me?
I can love anyone so passionately
and give a girl anything she wants;
if she asks me for a single star,
I'll give her the entire universe.
If she asks me to play a song on the guitar,
I'll play a beautiful piano symphony!
Most of the guys despise me
for being the symbol of sexuality;
they have everything, but they can't be me!
Ah! they get mad when girls flock to me,
yes, irresistible heartthrob...
you're unique in all you do and say;
yes, irresistible heartthrob...
you have the willpower and they'll obey!
That irresistible heartthrob is me,
I can always rely on my good looks
and with them, I can charm any girl;
is there any other guy like me?
I won't release any girl until she admits
I was the best she ever had!
That irresistible heartthrob is me;
I am very lucky to have it all!
Wish I was handsome stead of a physical stud
With a body to die for, I'll let you guys be the judge
Good looks have advantages
But coz I eat many radishes
My complexion's glowing red so I'm switching to fudge
Living the dream, in your teens, not hardly.
If you forever found yourself back in time
but with memories of all that is lost, and
find you cannot even locate your Valentine,
even with your good looks, shipshape body,
your countenance would become crestfallen.
Missing the moments, did you live them at all.
You’d recall son and daughter, grands and all.
Would life still be grand when the moon falls?
The sun rose on the shoulders of her or him.
You’d talk for hours about this and that on whim.
It is the life lived and the hope of heaven to claim.
So even when your loved one dies, they exist.
But, if you find time has reversed, while you rehearse
your memories, with tears no one cares about,
‘sissy girl or sissy boy,’ because those teens
can’t relate to your old soul in a unwrinkled body,
because gram and gramps are just old.
Suddenly, your back, excited at your limp,
bags under the eyes, and the grands
run into your arms, or grab the VR, who cares -
your back…your back..oh your back…
Still you do the heavy lifting of the rich at heart,
heartily, tearfully (why are you crying, kid asks),
Living your dream at sixty-something, remembering
everything…well, not everything, but you smile
because you're golden, and what matters is life’s kiss.