Best Penelope Poems
Does true love is worth waiting for?
Where are you my Odysseus?
For love and eternity I will be yours,
I will love thee for my whole life
Will see no one but you as my true love…
My heart will wait for you to come
Even 20 years may past, I will never run
For your love I will never seize from waiting
Even it will take long for my longings…
I know our love is for eternity
You and I are meant to be
For an everlasting love is our destiny
I will be yours and you will be mine eternally…
Come to me soon and let’s be free
I will love you wholeheartedly
For I your Penelope
Will wait for you devotedly…
Categories:
penelope, feelings, love, missing,
Form:
Prose Poetry
They weave, they weave
They weep and they weave
Smarting under the persecuting whips -
Verbal, literal or carnal whips
They weep, they weep.
Locust-like they swarm the streets
To reach the factories before the sun settles well
In its diurnal rounds.
There are no circumstances unavoidable
Reach they must the gates at the hour final….
Sartorial gladiators they are
Salary they draw but in the
Etymological sense- they are well off
Enough to buy salt.
Eagle-eyed lustful look
Do the ups and downs of their physique hook -
Surveying the geography of their constitution
And the lecherous bosses or carnally starving colleagues
Devotedly concentrate on each continent
And ready to pay compliment
Only if they are crowned with the sovereignty to discuss
Issues that make the gynecologists blush!
Penelopes of the modern times,
Your hands transform loan-sharks
Into pot-bellied, globe-trotting tycoons.
These textile Sheikhs
When their family or female(s) sneeze
Millions and millions they unsqueeze
As if they are sylvestral leaves
Falling beauteously in the vernal breeze!
But alas! These helicoptered and villaed
Villains, as if through the alchemy of a vile wand
Into penniless paupers transformed
When the Midas-hands entreat them
To get exchange for their tears and sweat.
All big talks, fountains of philanthropy run dry -
And they weave and cry
They weave and cry!
Cry no more, Penelope, weave no more,
Never will your Odysseus come
Cease weaving, cease embroidering.
Yet the dream-laden Penelopes
Weep and weave,
They weep and they weave!
They weep and they weave!!
Categories:
penelope, sympathy,
Form:
Rhyme
Penelope Alecknavage nee perskin whose death aye assay
to comprehend, this son of the late Harriet Harris -
November thirteenth 2016 marked her eighty first birthday
if she still lived these last eleven years - instead met crossway
where grim reaper awaited - though my mum sought to delay
futility to accept Pyrrhic outcome - homage pep rally
thru poetry n essay
writing, and finding cadence of words
helps me (with powder milk biscuits)
gather courageous foray
and means to grapple with demise
of a loved one, and hence my gray
matter sifts thru childhoods' end,
where remembrance of hooray
amidst claque of chattering aunts, cousins, and uncles
the fuzzy interplay
of Penny racing at dog speed across lawn of family home
cordoned off via a jackstay
looms in forefront of my mind,
vulnerable to grief most people sad - me, oh kay,
reckons cessation of life = equalizer of sorts
when significant person without breath doth lay
Tom foolery deft hands of motley crue prestidigitation
playing game versus sobbing as corpse
driven to graveside viz motorway,
where belief at such stark catastrophe - nay
numbness pervades next of kin survivors
especially when passing occurs pre-holiday,
yet no matter whence one departs
bobbing along River Styx to unreachable quay
mourning iz broken with nary sunny and Cher full ray
to warm earth, wind and fire - seeking soul asylum,
trying to blink away ill logic cheap trick re: acceptance,
but inxs of tears for fears begs scene 2b screenplay
not hard rocking coldplay accursed reality
terminal illness ushers helplessness cuz part of ourselves
agonizingly rent asunder, which psychic tearaway
far exceeds any physical pain, and will underlay
the immediate future, which bodes hollow
with the sounds of silence
despite informing musicians or veejay
to lighten moody blue -
boot invariably bono fide, green day,
Lady gaga emitting beat,
per the human league (plus the culture club
of heart felt village people affiliated with goo goo doll
traversing into nirvana)
creates clangorous discordant ringing
increasing nostalgia for loved one lost before yesterday!
Categories:
penelope, absence, beautiful, bereavement, death,
Form:
Ode
Age with grace, sweet Penelope,
For in your age lies my youth;
Change with time,—but slowly still,—
And in your transitions drown my years.
The queen of my throne you truly are,
And with you I could ever be king;
Ten years with you at a stretch of time,
Are to me but few moments of life.
Oh, make this vow a seal unbreakable,
Forever steer my heart to your sails;
Stay with me all of your mortal life,
Make my heart the abode of your stay.
Dear Penelope the love of my heart,
Age with grace, save my youth.
Categories:
penelope, age, love, youth,
Form:
Free verse
Far from this antique bay and moor,
your plaintive voice sung for my soul,
and lifted me to Ithaca's shore.
Can longing's echoes loudly toll,
and invite me to your front door,
like gods that decreed from a scroll.
I sailed to Troy and far beyond,
to go and fight an epic war.
Men joined, forming paired, loving bonds
to be their bright and glowing North Star.
I took a boy, a vibrant blonde,
with whom I shared many battle scars.
With Poseidon, the fates between,
the sea opposed us. But I loved
the youth, Penelope my Queen.
Please forgive us, my loyal dove,
and spare us from your jealous spleen,
so Zeus sends no bolts from above.
I loved you, but desire's arrow,
against my willpower pierced my heart!
Compelled by Cupid's dart and bow,
we made love. To honor royal art,
I cede my throne: — but you can't know,
loving you both tears me apart.
Without you, I was forced to grow?
Categories:
penelope, journey, love, love hurts,
Form:
Lyric
Pepe Le Pew
Quest for love he would always pursue
But his over enthusiastic romantic way
Is rejected by a skunk look alike who keeps running away.
Penelope Pussycat
Smothered in kisses and squeezes she would always combat
A black cat with an accidental painted white stripe
Penelope knew she wasn't that type.
Cleritoons Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
12.09.21
Categories:
penelope, animal, cat,
Form:
Clerihew
I think with my atlatl,
My love; for I see thee
Within my psychic attic,
My love; for my heart
Has become an abstraction—
A Shakespearean metaphor—
I am infatuated, my love:
I feel so delicate, my love.
My wanton for thee is more
Flamboyant than Baroque—
As sacred as scripture. Become
Gothic, my love—displace of
Us within the twelfth century, when
Maidens knew romance—when
Ever a maiden secretly yearned
For Adonis; for the times
Were masculine, thus,
Femininity was suppressed;
Wherefore, women were forced
To disguise womanhood; but
Evermore yearned the sensuous
Embrace. Take of me, Penelope:
Weave no more; for only so
Long can weaving distract
Pulsations of the womb: O’
How I yearn to thrust within
Thy womb. This feeling is
Familiar to me. I am
Deathly drawn to surrealistic
Women. Penelope! Thou
Art surreal for me. Hence, I
Want thee more—more than
The want of Job for Death.
I must have thee, Penelope.
I must drum within thy womb.
I must—lest I perish.
Glenn Jr. Marchand
Categories:
penelope, angst
Form:
Part 3 of ? in an unfolding Denizens series
Spring came; Penelope left with a company,
bodyguard, chambermaid, there at her side.
Ten days of travel now lay there before them:
the passage maintained well, the way open, wide.
For six days, the journey was most uneventful.
Then the air thickened, felt heavy to breathe.
When they made camp in the moonlight at nightfall, the
sounds of the forest disturbingly seethed.
Guards were dispatched all around the perimeter;
sentries, no issue, for nobody slept.
Then, in the morning, dim, gray and quite overcast,
what was before them was hard to accept.
Though none could prove it, the clearing felt smaller, and
there was no evidence forward or back;
of the trail they had been traveling eastward on:
briars and brambles now, thorny and black.
Two of the guard stepped up, withdrew their broadswords and
labored to cut a way farther ahead;
others were scavenging downed trees and branches to
throw on the bonfire to hold back the dread.
As to what happened next, none could be certain. One
moment, our two knights still hacked a way clear.
Then, though none saw it, there was a loud rustling, and
muffled cries trailing, as though far from here.
For a brief moment, before their way closed back in,
wizened and old, a man leaned on his staff,
then like a panther, he bounded off, crying out
like some strange bird: a maniacal laugh.
With little fanfare, the forest just swallowed them,
Tilted its head back and opened its maw.
Cat-like, a beast sprang forth, straight at Penelope;
That was the last thing the rest of them saw.
(To be continued)
part 1: https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/denizens_prologue_-_1_1445556
part 2: https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/denizens_beginnings_-_2_1445687
Categories:
penelope, adventure, mystery,
Form:
Quatrain
Upon idolized lips I gander
Such flesh quite pleasurably divine
Within their hymns I seek to pander
Upon idolized lips I gander
Brandishing lustful hints of banter
An appetite dawns for your design
Upon idolized lips I gander
Such flesh quite pleasurably divine
Categories:
penelope, life,
Form:
Triolet
Penelope had a defiant high chest
Was it real? Many wanted to test.
She ignored men.
Outstudied them.
Became editor of Science Digest.
Categories:
penelope, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Limerick
The dark woods bid a fleeting trail,
Penelope Rose has cast her spell.
I find a cave’s open door,
no one’s ever been in here before.
Only a drip of water, I can hear,
mere imagination that causes me fear.
Some men are cowards, I suppose,
but strong is my love for Penelope Rose.
Phantom voices travel the breeze,
dancing shadows beneath pen-oak leaves
I hear the woods as they come alive, sipping my courage, as a way to survive
maybe in the wild, things are roaming free,
savoring to be alone just like me.
The best of my day will disappear,
For the sting of the Rose entertains me here.
I leave the sign that stole my power,
an empty bottle under a blackberry brier.
Her name is written in silent repose,
the lingering presence of Penelope Rose.
Categories:
penelope, drink, emotions, fear,
Form:
Rhyme
Teenage acne scarring
put an end
to your sojourn
your eyes as beautiful as dawn
glacial cheekbones
the shifting sands
of frozen time relieved
to the demure of wisdom
now realised
Categories:
penelope, allegory, angel, appreciation,
Form:
Free verse
At popular Pennsylvania State Fair,
ponies were preparing for prissy pony pageant,
promenading ponies' pretty polished hooves,
parading promoter, Percival Poppycock,
promised prize-
pauses, perplexed,
as Penelope Percheron,
a primping draft horse,
prances into pavilion,
petite ponies patter,
prima donna Penelope presents
perfumed self,
pricey pink ribbons, pearly teeth,
panache!
Prestigious panel of judges
promptly present Penelope as
"Princess Pony",
she pirouettes, pulverizes display
of plentiful pumpkins,
pummeling stands,
pure pandemonium,
people, popcorn, peanuts everywhere,
Penelope picks herself up,
proceeds with precious Princess Pony prize,
proudly preening,
positively pompous!
Categories:
penelope, 6th grade, 7th grade,
Form:
Alliteration
Poor Peter got married without a dime
For cash for stocks for bonds he had no time
Now what kind of wife
Would live such a life
Penelope writes poetry 'fool-time'
Categories:
penelope, marriage, poetry, work,
Form:
Limerick
Here lies Penelope Bower
Born by blood and water – like us all.
Then she died that way too – from a fall
while taking a bloody shower.
April 13, 2019
for Jesse Rowe's An Epitaph To Make Us Laugh 2 Poetry Contest
Categories:
penelope, humor,
Form:
Epitaph