Best Lady Poems
My lady is the wind’s soft sigh through fields of marigolds in June,
A beach night stroll beneath the moon, a cloudless sky, a butterfly.
She waltzes to a rhapsody and lifts her voice soulfully.
My lady is. . .
A splendid sunset in July as two soared high in a balloon.
The bliss we tasted, you and I, against a bright sky streaked maroon,
is almost like a fantasy which lingers in my memory.
My lady is. . .
A tranquil August lullaby; the ocean’s sound along a dune,
A dragonfly, a blue jay’s cry, a lazy daisy afternoon
till Autumn brings new poetry; then long warm nights soon cease to be,
and months of Winter’s chill ensue.
My lady is the wind’s soft sigh through fields of marigolds in June;
a splendid sunset in July; a tranquil August lullaby.
She waltzes to a rhapsody which lingers in my memory.
When months of Winter’s chill ensue, I’ve bid my Lady Love adieu.
For Brian Strand's 'YOUR CHOICE (10)PERSONIFICATION ,any form,any theme'
I had seen her before in the spring and summer
The homeless lady sitting on the church steps
She would ask for help from people going into the church
She mostly was given spare change and occasionally a dollar or two
No matter how small the amount given, she would give a genuine smile and say thank you
The last time I saw her was a December around Christmas
It was very cold and she was shivering in a tattered, light weight, coat
She began to walk toward me and I could see that she was very frail.
I hurried to her. I was afraid that her legs might fail
Seeing her that way, the terrible reality of her suffering, struck me to the core
I gave her all the money that I had with me that day
She was surprised and said I want to give you a gift.
I will tell you my real name.
Realizing this was the only thing of real value that she had left, I hesitated.
She smiled, hugged me, and then whispered Linda into my ear.
After that day, I never saw her again and couldn’t find out what happened to her.
But, I will never forget Linda and her most perfect Christmas gift.
Dedicated to Linda
"bag of bones"
I wonder if when you look at me
You can't bring yourself to like the vanity
Lost somewhere inside -
I wonder if beauty lives..... in you???
Poor old lady;
-perhaps you should not pass judgment
For one day
I might be
Just
Like
You!
By: PD
One pitch black night I was driving home and was ready for my bed
My usual route was closed for repairs so I took the minor road instead
I was just approaching the old derelict mill that was over to my right
When out of nowhere a lady appeared dressed from head to toe in white.
I tried to swerve but hit her head on and it gave me one helluva fright
Thought what was she doing alone out here in the middle of the night
I quickly jumped out of my car and dialed, nine one one on my phone
And thinking that I might have killed someone, chilled me to the bone.
But there was no sign of her and I feared she was underneath
I caught sight of my face in the cars mirror ; I'd gone white as a sheet
I quickly got down on the ground and used my phones torchlight
And I started praying to God up high that the poor lady was alright.
But she wasn't underneath the car and thought was I going insane
The wind was howling loudly now and brought with it heavy rain
I was all on edge, then got in my car and had the life scared out of me
When a loud voice said " operator here, what's your emergency"?
Something Spooky 8 to 16 lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
Written 5th October 2021.
Oh lovely lady of the poetic stream
Such beautiful verses we have seen
Your flowers more vibrant than heavens tone
Your mountains more majestic than ever known
Your pen full ways are filled with grace
As you take us to a wondrous place
When you dip inside your wishing well
We are transfixed from your magic spell
Oh Lovely lady of the shimmering stream
Enchant us now so we may dream
A volcanic resonance within your soul
Gushes out versus that make us whole
I stand yonder as I look and glean
Toward the lovely lady of the poetic stream.
March.03.2016 ^WW^
The cat rules our house, and she has us well trained:
We jump at the sound of her slightest complaint.
The day starts at six when I hear her loud cry,
Her pitiful wailing. I run to find why.
Queen passive-aggressive, she sits there and stares
Until I feel guilty. She silently glares.
I check on her food – only half full the dish!
I pour her fresh water. That wasn’t her wish;
She still has that look! In the bathroom I check:
The litter box maybe? Yes, there is a speck.
I scoop and I clean, and she, pleased, walks away—
She just wants it nice to use later today.
She squeezes right next to me onto my chair,
My pants and my sweater get covered in hair.
But she is so sweet and has such a soft fur,
And I like to stroke her, and hear her cute purr.
She made me become what I swore not to be:
The crazy cat lady- I think that is me.
January 3, 2018
For contest Crazy Cat Lady
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
Sleep my lovely baby/PD/lady
Although I am so far away
Listen to the sweet song I sing
Feel in your heart I’m not leaving
Soft wind cuddles you in my arms of love
My warm embrace never makes you sad
Before you close your diamond eyes
Make a wish I am with you tonight
All dreams that you dream here or afar
Will be answered by those bright stars
As the moon smiles sweetly in your sight
Giving an assurance that you’ll be alright
Sleep my lovely baby/ PD/lady
Sweet lullaby I sing as I fervently pray
May God keep you safe while I’m away
In this world you’re so special in His way
Oct. 25,2012
This can be sung in a tune of a lullaby song which my teacher had taught me when I was still in Grade 4, I remember more vividly but not exactly the tune and the title and lyrics not anymore.
First Place Winner
Contest: Send Me To Sleep Poem
Judged: 10/26/2012
Poet Sponsor: Greatest Poet, Poet-Destroyer
On my walk around the green meadow
in the sun splattered mesmeric mornings,
I used to see an old lady of the neighborhood,
sitting straight like a lone statue of cold stone
on the road-side bench I always crossed.
The golden stream of surging sunbeam
cascaded down the engraved web of rills
on her septuagenarian fragile face.
She would raise her thin ivory hands
from the recess of reclined lap unmoved,
flail in frail gesture in the scented air,
murmuring ‘good morning’ perhaps,
I could hardly hear in the rustle of leaves,
but my long day waited to begin
with the shining dawn of her smile,
drenching me in the silent shower of joy.
I still walk as the senile sun rises everyday,
but its searching rays saddened like me,
don’t find the lady on the bench,
but she walks smiling with me,
down the memory lane.
Written : March 22, 2020
July 23, 2022
Contest : 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 9
Sponsored by : Mark Toney
She rides the air on moonlit beams
and softly whispers in my dreams.
An angel born of righteous light,
who traded heaven for the dark of night.
She weaves a web of delicate lies
and cast her spell with deep dark eyes.
Her lips are full and ripe to kiss,
but filled with more venom than a serpent's hiss.
She will draw you in with an hypnotic dance
and drain your mind into an evil trance.
She will lay you down on a bed of clouds
and wrap your soul with a black- laced shroud.
At last she owns you, you've become her slave,
you've slipped too far, no one can save.
You will float forever in her loving arms,
another fool has fell for her wicked charms.
10/3/18
Her heartbeat echoes like a love moan in my mind,
summoning centuries of refined romanticism soulfully enshrined,
the contralto of her voice a fillatio upon the cock of my consciousness,
through her eyes I see that mystery is the Mistress of meaning beyond regress,
my manly mouth serenades & suckles the rosy pussy of her prophecy, homage cunnilingus,
revelations irresistible in their heretical invigorations excite our imaginations
as we fornicate a ferocious forsooth soothsaying love's reincarnations,
a vignette of virility forthcoming from fate's far side fortifications
presents a primal promise in paranormal inceptions,
Premonitions primitive in heart heat paint
streak the skin of our desire to design an indigenous heaven,
flesh tones warm fast and feral revealing a vitality of spirituality that tongues detonate,
the Universe blooms into a Multiverse as she spreads her spell of star spice scintillation
onto my ripened body rendering her rites fertile in rich freight,
within the brain's wildfire I feel her unction,
Becoming the shaman of our secret skin ceremony
I invoke the spirit of solar youth into veinage voracious for passion's patronage,
sanctifying the unifying lust between the bodily and ghostly unlicensed liberty,
shadow temple of temptation gives offering of blood and song from astral page,
death dream extremes fire hot ejaculation of divine vindication into cosmogony
as she and I have won our now with a win over age,
My Love Muse is more than a woman
she is a savage seduction and a sacred sweetness,
a Goddess of her own Cause...a lover known as Poetess,
her name changes from lifetime to lifetime, yet she is always beauty shown -
J.A.B.
They enter the strip
joint like the last
flurrie of flakes.
She hears the music,
hears the voice of the
D.J. Wind, enters on cue.
Her cold poles await her
as she moves to the beat.
One south, one north.
She works them both.
They call her Storm
she is the feature act.
Drawing her minions
in for months now.
Quickly the starkness of ivory
starts to melt off her body.
The long blanched gloves
covered those particular
patches are the first to go
revealing the fresh lustre of
bare skin once again exposed.
Sexy,
she's a professional!
She stares out
noticing the skeletal
frames once only
shadows,
now with a glimmer
of light.
She knows her time
is short now
feels a hint
of life in her
domain of
dead stares.
Hears sounds
that are telling.
Was that really a chirp
or just a whistle?
The pulse of warmth starts
to pump through her veins.
Now her shiny robe
falls to the ground and
you can sense the smell
of want in the air.
The flow of liquids
previously frozen stiff.
Storm the stripper
slowly teases the crowd.
Down to her Victoria Secret
garb she tugs at our groins
knowing her audience craves
more.
In this case that also
means less.
I personally will miss her
in this present form.
Her tidy white lingerie
against her tanned skin.
Covered peaks,
rounded mounds.
You just want to
ride up, and maneuver
your way down.
The timing is wrong.
I know she will strip bare
as first the top goes then
down to a G-String of snow.
Naked,
winter stands
in front of me.
She will meander a bit
shake with a breeze
of perfumed cold.
Slide onto the floor as she undulates
with her come ons that near a finality.
She saunters off the stage
and me I watch winter's end.
Spring, on winter's barren
ground starts to peek from
around the curtain,
with her touch of green.
Warm breezes.
Her array of pastel colors.
Ladies and Gentlemen,
Winter has left the building,
Spring is here!
01~19~2015
Sponsor: SKAT A
Contest: Winters End
Lady Luck ~ (the Nonet)
Tears, shadows that swallow other tears
united and out of control
eyes decompose like soft coal
water, in swimming hole
everglade pistol
celestial toll
river pole
dead soul
pain
~~~~~
All
over
again, pause
deep darken jaws
engraved, digging claws
deteriorating flaws
still alive, eating what was
waste, rain, disabling because
nature lingers, emotional raw
by;~~~
Nonet, 9 lines,
beginning 9 syllables, then 8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 syllable(s) ~ I hope~
for RICK'S contest...
A
rose
exudes
beauty
and
aroma
A
creation
from
nature
With
grace
Even
its
thorns
are
beautiful
Luminous
and
shiny
A
Lady ;
The
similarity
is
that
both
must
be
treated
with
care
A-L Andresen 23.05.2015 :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Yesterdays love
Buries me in memories
I long for times
When a kiss was truly an exotic marvel
I hug the sorrows of treasured losses
I, a man weep, silently and alone
If only you, the lady in red knew
The feelings stirred inside this hardened man
I toss the guns aside, fighting a fool’s game
There is no true fame for a dead hero
I knelt too often at the graves of my comrades
My sword defends not even honor, no more
I am, but a simple man
As I gaze into my childhood
I long for a world
Where a child is never a soldier
Where no heart goes unheard
All roads lead to happiness
No more highways to evil deeds
No more Isis
No more hate
No more bombs from the skies
I gaze upon a park bench
There she is below the raven
My lady in red
No where to go
No legs to carry her dreams away
She leaves in her wake
A trail of blackness
The darkness of horrors
The darkness of infinite pain
Yet there she sits
Elegant and beautiful
Staring
Facing down the terror
Nightmares that attack ones essence
An inspiration overtakes me
On impulse
I pick her up
She has a curious look upon her
What prey tell are you doing?
I look her in the eyes
I whisper to her
I am saving my heart, not you
I am redeeming my soul
She has but a worried look upon her face
I say fear not, I see inside of you
It shall be you who saves me
Your elegance
My kiss
Entwined
As we encounter loves journey
As they say
It’s a walk in the park
Her Red coloured dress resembled
a Venetian house
which lay besides the gondola
in an unrealized dream
as the Gondola retreated
through the hazy eyes of the canal
the house kept on getting bigger
painting one part of the lake
with a mixed coating of
the red
and the green accumulated piece
of the ubiquitous waters
but still red was the colour
green was the envy
she was herself
with the poets
while a poet
let one more dream die