Best Off Her Head Poems
Millicent Portia Ponsonby-Smyth
Could speak fluent French by the time she was five.
By the age of just eight she was top of her class,
There wasn’t a test that she couldn’t pass.
English and maths she coped with just fine
And quantum mechanics she’d mastered by nine.
Her parents were proud, but a little concerned
That she’d never have fun if she stayed in to learn.
Her father said, “Millicent go out and play.”
“But father I’m reading so here I shall stay.”
“Being so clever is great there’s no doubt,
But once in a while you need to get out.”
She said, ”Pater, please listen I’m happy to study,
And if I go out there’s a chance I’ll get muddy.”
That very night she was taken off guard,
She discovered a sum that was simply too hard.
She stomped round her room in utter frustration,
She just couldn’t do this quadratic equation.
Gnashing her teeth and tearing her hair
She kicked out in temper at her teddy bear.
It flew through the air and bounced off the wall,
So she kicked it again before it could fall.
It bounced off her head and then off her knee
And suddenly Millicent giggled with glee.
She continued all night to kick it around.
For hours she kept it from touching the ground.
In the following weeks she practiced some more
And saved all the money she earnt from her chores.
She went to the shop, bought a ball and some boots,
And learnt how to dribble and learnt how to shoot.
Every day after school she went to the park
And practiced her football until it was dark.
She continued to study the books and the sport
And paid close attention to all she was taught.
13 years later Miss Smyth is delighted
She’s the first girl in history to play for United.
Marie Antoinette
A crowd she upset
To guillotine was led
They cut off her head
5/30/15
Thunderous is the sound of Black
darkening the sky and
booming with a loud crack
Soothing is the sound of Green
leaves dancing in the breeze
and making one feel serene
Loud is the sound of Red
blood streaming from someone
screaming off her head
Silence is the sound of Blue
in a clear sunny sky which is
very tranquillizing too
Crunchy is the sound of White
icy snow lying on the ground
creating a beautiful sight
Mellow is the sound of Yellow
leaves sighing in the breeze
while falling to the earth below
Babbling is the sound of Colourless
water flowing in a rippling brook
on a ground filled with bumpiness
Boisterous is the sound of Crimson
rage from an angry mob
who pay no heed to reason
Whispering is the sound of Pink
flushed skin of sensuality
with an aphrodisiac drink
Pompous is the sound of Purple
representing royalty and
other aristocratic people
In Love With a Poetess
_____________________________________
I'm in love with a poetess/
Her words choke my feelings
Lifting me up to the ceilings
The thicker her words,
The faster my emotions move upward
She metaphorically strategize my heart
Turn my love into imagery like art
Exaggerations tearing me apart
_________________________________________
Totally disorder in my vain
Leaving me with nothing to gain
Breathing no longer take place in
The respiratory system
Rather on the tongue
My life on the edge of the rung//
__________________________________
I'm in love with a poetess/
She believes in pen and paper
My thoughts move off her head like vapor
Maybe my feelings are just wallpapers
Not meant to be taken serious
Her emotion lies in her pen
__________________________________________
She only speak in poetic devices
Tearing my heart into pieces
Her inking differ from my thinking
I think mine is shrinking
My feelings are beautifully sinking
And my love is winking
At her smiles
Using pun to play on my love//
_____________________________________________
I'm in love with a poetess/
I'm jeopardized
I'm apprised of nothing but poetry
I'm no longer interested in mathematics like geometry
It's like telling a fish to walk in the street
Her words are mightier and sharper than razors
Deeper than the oceans
And higher than the skies//.
_____________________________________________
© Artistic Poet
Drusilla the vamp
.Her name is Drusilla she's a creature of the night.
When she feeds it comes with one bite.
Beauty and long black hair and skin of white.
She thinks death is her rite.
In search for her prey was her deep,dark plan.
Russia is where she lives.
Her hunger for a hot blooded man.
His blood to her he gives.
She lays in a coffin until night time falls.
Been a vampire most of her life.
A castle where she lives she roams through the halls.
Her teeth long and white and cut like a knife.
Dark forest of trees she walkes without a sound.
Wearing a flowing white gown.
She lives in the dark but not in the ground.
You must have a cross if you live in her town.
A journey into the sun will turn her body to ash.
She only enter's if she's invited in.
After her death cut off her head with a slash.
Gender doesn't matter women or men.
Teresa Skyles August 28, 2011
Entered in Linda-Marie's"creatures of the night"contest
Mr Wiz, Munchkin Land
Be so kind to lend a hand...
Cartwheeling cottage? how daft is that
Landed quite safely, all level and flat
Some midget fellow said, who else heard that
I think ‘Wicked Westie’ might just have gone splat
Tin men and lions and blokes full of straw
Red shoes and rainbows and bricks on the floor
Witches determined to lay down the law
Little dog yapping and blue birds galore
Lion so scared he’s effectively tame
Geezer wants ticker inside his tin frame
The chap with a head full of straw wants a brain
Dorothy wants to go home... shame
Old men and wizards, one and the same
Thinks Dottie’s plight is a bit of a game
hidden away in a small secret room
Tells her, ‘Go forth and fetch me a broom’
But Dot knows a half decent witch from up north
This tale’s full of witches and she’s third or fourth
With witches from east and west done up like kippers
The North witch gives Dottie the west witch’s slippers
Dimwit companions, each a good fellow
Prancing about on a road painted yellow
Keep Dottie safe from that nasty grim reaper
Present to the wizard the requisite sweeper
And lo, he's impressed and he loudly applauds her
But this dodgy wizard’s a bit of a fraudster
Spouts loads of stuff about going home soon
But then he clears off in his hot air balloon
The lion got brave and the scarecrow got clever
The tin man’s new heart might well beat forever
Ain’t no pleasing Dottie, she can’t go home, never
Them slippers, said Northy, click em together
So she clicked them together, those slippers in red
There’s no place like home she repeatedly said
Sounds like she might have been right off her head
But then she wakes up and shes home in her bed
And so, Mr Wiz, this may be remiss
But what do you think...
Could you film this?
16 November 2018
Bang the gavel. Bang it again.
It's Judgment Day for my children.
Bang the gavel. Bang it again.
I sit on my Throne, a figure on High
To pronounce Judgment from my seat in the sky.
It's Judgment Day for my children. They tremble before me.
I sit on my Throne, a figure on High.
Three sons and a daughter down on their knees. Begging for mercy.
It's Judgment Day. Bang the gavel. Bang it again.
The first defendant arises. My only daughter.
She kneels before me, head bowed, hands clasped. Begging for mercy.
She recites her litany of offenses against me.
Should I cut off her head or merely sever her knee?
Now my first son, a strongman, comes to his feet
Massive muscles trembling before me
He cut me off hard at age thirty-six
Not a phone call or test, not even a card
I ponder whether I should burn him to death in a tub of pig lard.
Let him beg for mercy.
My last two sons stand up together. They're good boys, respectful,
kind to me and kind to my wife.
There's no doubt in my mind that I'll be sparing their life
It's Judgment Day for my children. They tremble before Me.
I sit on my Throne, a figure on High.
I call my daugher to the bench: "What do you have to say
in your defense, miserable wench?"
She breaks down in tears that melt down her years. Before me stands
a mere lass of nine.
"I'm so sorry, Dad," she whimpers. "I treated you like dirt," she simpers.
"Off with her head," I shout, proclaiming her sentence.
I sit on my Throne, a figure on High.
******************
But I am not God. I have no gavel to bang nor Throne to sit on
Neither am I any figure on High.
My judgment is flawed, as are my decisions
All of them models of judicial imprecision
Only one thing I know and I know that thing only:
God, the True Judge, requires us only
To act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly before Him.
So, my just action will be
to love mercy and walk humbly:
"Come back, my daughter.
Return, my son.
I forgive you completely!
~ Can you forgive me?"
June 28, 2018
Dry rotted benches all splintered and frail.
Transparent spirits fill the isles and the air.
In the old decrepit church they try to stay seated,
while the Malicious Eulogy is hellaciously completed.
Out in the graveyard down below, the Demons arise.
The howls of anger, the growls of damnation,
pierce the dark night like deadly cries.
As they rise from their tombs, the earth starts to split.
The ground shreds apart like a deep fiery pit.
They enter the church, the spirits gather round.
For they are the Bastards to the God of the Underground.
Their hideous faces stare upon the evil crowd.
The spirits stay silent, they dare not make a sound.
One by one they approach the Black Altar,
bowing before the horned image of their Father.
Behind them stands a pillar carefully balancing her coffin.
Her body lies still, her soul knows not what's coming.
As the fiends turn to surround her death bed,
each one places a sprig of Nightshade neatly around her head.
They feel her naked body, her skin's so pale and cold.
Her virgin soul is what they crave, to them it's as precious as gold.
The funeral is over, no one even cried.
The ceremony begins, Satan's about to take his Bride.
His sons proudly look on as the gates of Hell open wide.
Satan rises to her coffin, his sons go to his side.
He gazes at her beauty, to him it's such a shame,
but his hunger for her virginity defeats him, he's really not to blame.
He covers like a cloud of darkness as lightning strikes the church.
Her soul has left her body, yet her body the Demons will search.
One son tore her heart out, another ripped off her head.
They all feasted on her flesh, their hungers are finally fed.
The maiden stands next to her groom with an evil grin on her face,
Satan smiles back at her, certain the body and soul cannot be traced.
The Demons are done feeding now as their mouths drip with blood.
The ritual is over now for she has united as one.
Her soul is his to flourish on for all eternity,
and it all started with one Malicious Eulogy.
Grandmother elephant’s sneezes were loud and long.
They came from her gut and they were incredibly strong.
They started the moment she put on her new hat someone said.
You mean the floral arrangement that is plunked down on her head?
There were lilies and cone flowers and roses too.
The flowers were in pastels, scarlet, pink and winterly blue.
She has hay fever, she is allergic! Said her doctor. Take it off her head
She simmered in the warmth of his gaze
Sugar of his lips set her ablaze
Skin quivered at his slightest touch
Changing hues-red, crimson and such
A look at herself now, in the mirror
Skin pale with no trace of color
Sunken eyes set in deep dark rings
Painfully waiting for the end cancer brings
Picturing him in someone else’s bed
A thought she couldn’t shake off her head
That night, she plunged the dagger
He would always belong to her
Written on :07/18/2016
Earlier submitted for contest:'Limerence' by Nayda Ivette Negron
.Her name is Drusilla she's a creature of the night.
When she feeds it comes with one bite.
Beauty and long black hair and skin of white.
She thinks death is her rite.
In search for her prey was her deep,dark plan.
Russia is where she lives.
Her hunger for a hot blooded man.
His blood to her he gives.
She lays in a coffin until night time falls.
Been a vampire most of her life.
A castle where she lives she roams through the halls.
Her teeth long and white and cut like a knife.
Dark forest of trees she walks without a sound.
Wearing a flowing white gown.
She lives in the dark but not in the ground.
You must have a cross if you live in her town.
A journey into the sun will turn her body to ash.
She only enter's if she's invited in.
After her death cut off her head with a slash.
Gender doesn't matter women or men.
Teresa Skyles August 28, 2011
The rose grows unbalanced to the right
Because she is deprived of light,
Water is scarce, but when it can run,
The rose soaks it up and leans into the sun,
Her thorns are stunted and endearingly tender,
Though this means they do not have strength to defend her,
Her petals are thin and so easily torn,
Such a delicate flower the bush never had borne,
But far fairer roses selfishly surround her,
And this is how the gardener found her.
So pull out her petals so pretty and pale,
And break off her prickles so fragile and frail,
Then cut off her head and leave her to decay,
Tend the wilier roses and just walk away.
And as her sap weeps as she withers and rots,
The rose is watched smugly by the flowers in their pots,
And as she lies dying in darkness on the floor,
They turn to the sun and lounge in it some more,
And when the rain washes the dead rose away,
The flowers are asleep and have nothing to say.
Teacher sey mi stupid
I wonder if a hol' a gun to her head she would still think I am stupid?
Because I don't come from upper St. Andrew mi nuh have the right to a good education?
Yuh label mi stupid and handicap
Where is the hope for me
My father don't sit in parliament so I am not good enough to become someone
My parents a foot soldier them nuh drive nuh Benz
So stupid is all I am
Teacher sey she a go kill mi in seven day
Life unfair... if I said that...I would be in jail
Shake mi head ...call mi gang fi lick off her head yuh hear sey mi wicked
Life unfair
Yuh never hear when she sey she a go kill mi
Stupid...handicap...that how you all see me
Then when I pick up a gun then society ask ....why my yout'?
Because you label me stupid.
You never expect anything of me
I never got a chance
If you don't expect nothing of me, who will Miss?
Stupid...Handicap that's how you see me
That's all you see in me
No hope for me
So when I rob and kill just remember you made me what I am
That's all you expect of me
Where is my role model
You cant be the person I want to become
If stupid is all you see in me
how can you expect more from me
If stupid is all you see
Then you don't see me
when the universe find the sextet his submission shall be held up, give the code IVICCC the lord of power shall destroy all those who remain on earth. given his rights to do so. than they shall come the fourth star which hold the holy cross of solomon, and the sacred temple shall fall under pestilence, and the greater of the three swords shall rise a king on earth he shall be able to comdemned the living.
for it was rome that shut away the city having pay him a great sum to tell where the man was. now six stars with holy fire shall shine brighter than the day but not at night shall call man to his place. for in death he was released and call back to his throne, for the outrage of death was heard was heard in man knew not it's cry. the beast honor the Roman who was sleeping by his side. they knew not that his death has come and gone, for all degrees was warlike. his demise which reigns in fire gave bold to his dreams. and his wife shall die by his side calling for the jews to repent, they have exiled their king, now the trumpet want to adapt. the dead that guards the great city is outraged by the new pope, for they know that many shall die by fire and water for no one can see the rainbow anymore. now that life become danger and all shall dwell. the sign that Yeshua has left has moved from their places, and death has place upon this earth both kingdoms, it is an easy place to find, one is the great city and the other is the holy city of Elohim, now be mindful what you say. she was a witch that look into the seeing pot for these things I tell you now, but her vision was clouded by the evil one and her king took off her head. but before the axe came down this is what she said, all his male children shall die six days after their birth.
School was out for annual Christmas break
Ice and snow hung around many a week
A friend and I did what one should not do
Went onto a frozen canal to skate
Some lads we knew were giving us some cheek
Boohoo
One lad pinched my friends hat from off her head
Chased him I did, what came next haunts me so
Iced cracked and yes I was in for the swim
The boys were brilliant, I could've been dead
Bravo!
The Speaker Poetry Contest
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