Best Mademoiselle Poems

The story behind this poem
The curiosity of many of my readers (many of them women) was excited in my previous poem ‘Passion in Black and...

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Find it  in an anagram,its a name of French descent
It has four vowels in it,and is a long nine letter word.
The main noun starts...

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I am 

The red ripe apple of the sinful tree,
The honey suckle of the bumble bee.

The pink blushed rose Of the secret garden,
The stubborn spoilt...

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I have no spirit.
I have no soul.
I am nothing more than a terrible troll.
I’ll never see Heaven,
And this is my Hell,
To be shunned by all...

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Imagination nude
liquored and lacquered lips
ember-breathing phoenix
..lighter fluid magic
when let loose near a flame..
combustible thigh-highs
when moonshine-high is nigh—
the moon she bathes in dreams

I have you both...

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"Like a shooting s t a r,
         plunging from lunar fields of lavenders,
  to touch the...

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Hat-ni-sta you are a classy, intelligent, and ambitious lady
take the compliment, not being shady
Hat-ni-sta what a sexy, sexy Mademoiselle
I adore the hat, the dress as...

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Darkest of Confessions


Voices in my head
Dancing abreast with the abstract
Shattered glasses and shattered dreams
History repeats many a lovers’ defeat

I demand a duel
With my heart
I welcome...

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Panagiota Romios

Spirited, elaborate and gracefully 
She weaves with ease her poetry
Wistful, yet strong, carries her own 
A starry queen on her exalted thrown  ...

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At the Parisian Ball

wrapped in finest gowns

of virgin-snow, sugar-rose

and washed-out pistachio pastels

The  hour-glass shapes

 with tied narrow waists

waltzed with gallant men

togged up in midnight-dusk...

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Mischief shaped like a slender solitary mademoiselle

Tantalizing my carnal calibration towards indecency

Cloaked as the city of truth 
Anointing me to serve as her gatekeeper 

In...

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Feeling like a lost soul I sit, as the train rocks me to and fro 
the woman next to me is jovial and pleasant, with...

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A haze… 
Languorous oft in summer days 
Where sundrops drip 
From melting skies 
Onto city grind 
And parasols shade the cobbled grays

Across back alley lanes...

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An eighteen year old sailor on the Riviera in the Spring
Mademoiselle Your smile can make my young heart sing
Cannes, Nice, Monte Carlo who could ask...

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I remember my cherished Wolf Cub pack, 
How I loved those Wednesday evenings, 
The games, the pomp and seriousness of the camps, 
The different coloured...

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