Best Pleated Poems
A pretty girl in pleated dress of red,
with collar laced in white beneath her throat
and matching bow upon her small blonde head,
is glancing round the chapel. I take note.
Though nails on little hands show grown-up paint,
she emanates no guile. She’s unaware
That in this world are some who wish to taint
all innocence; for no one do they care!
She nuzzles her dad’s face as on his knee
she’s sitting now - his sweet beloved daughter.
What menace lurks, from which she could not flee?
What evil lessons might one day be taught her?
She hugs her daddy’s chest; I watch and pray
she’ll live to hold a child her own one day.
In Memory of the 20 + 7 new angles of heaven~ "our own little poetry soup VIGIL"
Written: October 25 2024 for Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tom Woody
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Thrilling and alluring
hazard, affection, zeal, and heat
all the stated above
crimson, as a rose, is a sign of love
at all times evolving
when planets are aligned
color doesn't matter
because true love is blind
unseen for the most break
but only when glimpsed
mutable and undulating
colors are shifting
lasts only long enough
to be outrageous
love is a colorless mood
It is a heartfelt emotion
our eyes grasp everything
love stems from inclusion.
She hates frilly pink stuff
flavor, spice, everything squeamish
three sons and spouse
she shares blue but shuns others.
once drove a crimson race car.
young passion, now a yellow SUV.
easy access and exit.
deeply anchored, like her life.
Experts called her Autumn,
but what do they gasp?
to me, she’s summer,
colors bright and warm,
at times a little dusty,
like a sunlit kitchen.
so color her something,
it would just be opal—
a humble stone, but look deeply,
all the colors of the rainbow
explode from its heart.
When I am missing her:
I am just cobalt blue,
with emptiness...
when we are intimate:
I am a royal purple,
with happiness...
when I am working:
I am anxiously green,
with jealously...
when she is sick:
I am indigo, with
hopefulness...
Pleated, flirtatious hair.
release her loose braids.
with freckled cheeks.
She vibrates sweetly.
the furious downpour.
moistens dusty roads.
falling cobalt beads pitter.
rainy beat orchestra.
1st place contest winner.
The remorseful ocean murmured her regrets
For the fierce tantrum
She had thrown the night before.
She unfolds her pleated skirt
Along the shore
And whispers,“Come.”
She has seduced me before
And is trying again.
Her tide’s long arms
Wrap lovingly around the rocks
And lavish wet kisses
On their craggy faces.
I hold her in my heart
And dance with joy
On the sun-drenched sand.
She is a fickle lover
Who ever toys with my heart
And draws me
Down to the sea again.
Redeployed in an ugly skin
Pleated and spotted and grumpy within
What I call walking ,they call shuffling
I'm bending down to tie my shoe
While Im down here what else can I do?
When driving down my lip protrudes
Only for the dentist will I open mouth
Okay , Ill wave at you but I wont smile
The dog and the toilet are my only true friends
You get up to go and then you go again
Memories are yesterday
Forgetfulness is all over today
Ill tell you what it is
But forgot what I was going to say
Got to buy dogfood
Where are my glasses?
Who am I talking to?
They've all gone away
Crisp ...
You lay like solemn ashes
'Neath glass ... spotless, sacred
Dried to bright hues ...
The shades of her lips in chill autumn air
(Winter, whisp'ring soft)
Edges crimped ...
Like the hems of her pleated tartan skirt
You are the vestige, precious
Of a moment ...
A final moment of love, true
Sweaty, sweet passion
That found its confluence under a vault of fire
A canopy of crumbling crimson
Wafting, weaving a rustling woodland blanket
The bed for a callow curiosity
Confusing, carnal, but perfectly imperfect
Numberless months have yet ceded to the wind
(As tender as the moons they bind)
Since I rescued you from the hood of a sweatshirt
Still, your color is unerring
And your scent is ...
Her.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Strand no 780, Any Theme, Any Form" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Strand Select V Any Form Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Writing Challenge - December - Any Poem NA'd In November 2019" Poetry Contest, Dear Heart - Wishkobi Ode, Judge & Sponsor.
( This poem was written on November 14, 2019, and N/A'd on November 22, 2019 in the Scented Leaves Poetry Contest )
Eastern sky blazes at the break of dawn
In the air the rising sun throws its hue
The speckled clouds gleam in the horizon
On multicolored flying palette I see you.
I’ve reached the edge of the blue plateau
Where the clouds touch the ground I find
They melt in the colors that define you
I splash on blank canvas and paint my mind.
In colored contours I see your face
Draped in unique tapestry of grace.
I’ll keep you there
All the time forever….
Western sky drenched by the dusk shower
The setting sun designs for it an attire new
In rainbow lined by pleated petals of flower
In its multihued transient arch I see you.
I’ve crossed the stretch of the green meadow
Where the rainbow holds the horizon I find
It melts in stream of colors that configures you
I flood the bare canvas and paint my mind.
In colored contours I see your face
Draped in unique tapestry of grace.
I’ll keep you there
All the time forever….
February 25, 2918.
She stood, feet apart with her hands on her hips
With long golden hair and her moist crimson lips
Her cape it was yellow, her pleated skirt, red
And a golden tiara she wore on her head
Wonder Girl… Super Girl,
what was her name?
She wasn’t some actor
of Hollywood fame
For at seven paces
With hands on her hips
I swear that I felt
her kiss on my lips!
Her eyes held my glare and I wanted her there
But I was enrapt and did nothing but stare
I tried to act cool, and gazed back without blinking…
Can she read my mind, does she know what I’m thinking?
Legs up to her armpits, her red skirt so short
Any young man would have had the same thought
Her outfit ensnared me but I’ll keep this brief
For I wondered what she might wear underneath!!
Wonder Girl… Super Girl,
what was her name?
She wasn’t some actor
of Hollywood fame
I knew she was real
for one blink of her eye
Made my heart race
And I thought I might die
She gave me a wink and she took to the sky
I made no pursuit… I’m a non-flying guy
Had I had the means I’d have followed her there
And we’d become one, hand in hand in the air.
Wonder Girl… Super Girl,
What was her name
Would she fly away home
Would I see her again
The clouds above rumbled
As she thundered through
Then she landed before me
And said, “Hello You.”
[She]
“I sense you have a fancy for me, or my fancy suit
And as we’re talking costumes then your own is rather cute
Might you be a player in the superhero game
And if you are I’d like to know your superhero name.”
[He]
“Enchanted, young lady… My name is Bruce Wayne,
But some people know me as BAT.”
[She]
“Next-you’ll be saying you’ve got your own cave
But BAT?… I won’t be calling you, THAT!”
Wonder girl… Super girl,
from heaven was sent
But shaking her head…
She just upped and she went
Up into the sky
And was gone from my eye
I asked myself then
Will I see her… again
Wonder Girl… Super Girl,
what was her name?
I found her and lost her
The day that she came
I can’t help but wonder
Where might she be now?
I asked the boy wonder
He said,… “Holy Cow!”
Stiff pleated fronds in concert rise
to wax under the April sun
and trill their canticles begun
in verses jade that they comprise.
Chartreuse of thorny branches splay
a tumult to belie the grace
that on display they interlace
like rose stems on a breezeless day.
Atop the thatched denuded bole
gush fountains cast in cardamom,
an opalescent diadem
that glistens on the mossy knoll.
In thus exuberant array
do cloistered peacocks mime ballet.
1/20/18
There she was chasing a rabbit
with 1 am coffeecakes and weak tea
She didn’t notice I was watching
from the branches of an olive tree
A lone smile hidden amongst
swirling smoke rings in a foreign accent
To the gazebo she ran
with its straw grass tables
and pleated cushions in hibiscus
print fabric no one would sit on
My eyes followed her as she
darted around manicured boxwoods
and cherub statues spitting water
onto sleeping lily pads,
following the same schedule
as the other…identical
She came upon a dandelion
and asked politely, “Pardon me,
but have you seen a…”
The weed interrupted,
“Didn’t…don’t do drama dreams
dancing deliriously down
donut distracted ditches”
“That’s dumb” she replied
with a giggle and a snort
This must be her fun, I think,
trying to catch a white ball of fur,
big, then small,
then smaller still like a
thimble seeking a thread,
when now she is stopped
in her ziggy zagging tracks
by a June bug singing,
“I see, I see, in front of me
Dessert, dessert, set out for free
A chocolate pie, a chocolate pie
in menus written on the sky”
Perplexed she climbed upon its back
and flew, holding onto
red leather shoulder pads
with black dots changing shapes,
ducking winged arches that
covered the vestibule they
soared through when a sharp turn
pitched her to the opposite side…
Landing with a thud,
her new dress now soiled
between the wrinkles in time
that had ticked away
on a clock faced sun named Ray
She cried carrot tears,
orange sherbet streams
on peach tone cheeks,
marmalade miseries
and mango miscues
piddling on her patent leather shoes,
ready to give up
When it appeared, hopping happily
Jumping into her lap
and licking her face
She caressed its fur, removing
sticker burs and scratching
just the right spot, as its right rear leg
thumped with joy
Then lifting the bundled bunny
to her face, she kissed it tenderly
with wild cherry gloss lips,
or should I say…kissed me
for you see, all along, it was me
"And you thought I was nothing more than a pretty smile…"
Sworn to secrecy, she told me it had been a long time..
as we sat swinging in a hammock in the late day sun.
'What., are you sayin' you never did it?'
I thought what my mom would do if she caught me, and replied
'brought up different I guess'.
She leaned back into the netting, perhaps chewing on what I said..
half her face streaked in sunlight.
Suddenly aware of her leg touching mine. So warm...
My cotton red racing striped trunks from Sears, with a secret webbed key pocket..her faded OshKosh B'Gosh bibs she wore all summer except on Sundays.
(Sundays were saved for wearing that white & pink pleated Victorian get up she so detested; a gift from her Grandma bought from Macy's mail order catalog)
She ribbed me with her right elbow, as she jumped clear of our swing..
when her mom yelled 'time for supper Kat!' from the front porch.
But she turned back with that dangerous look I'd learned, leaned in close, and licked across all her teeth.
'Milk's colder and better ya know..
drunk straight from the carton.'
She ran inside letting the screen door go with a full slam..!
I thought about all the times we watched Jonny Quest at her house,
eatin' our Quisp or Kaboom with that milk..., and smiled.
I kept Kat's secret safe..,'til just now anyway.
dialogue
Potion number nine to six mixing instincts
Primitive passion possessed bodies boiling points
Love consuming lust traversing together past trust
Tangled hands mingle with talon arms lengthening lost time
United legs step to cross paths at the same rate different lanes
Claiming bottomless renewed nights holding on tight
Tossed and turning rolled up with wait filled yearning
Playfully pulling the hearts pleated burning branded heat
Blazing fire fuming fragrant sweet scent heads rush
Secreting supple skins sensitive soft tender touch
Invisible love that consumes dark atmospheric distant
Imagine life full of face forced fuel feeding feeling
Satiated daily indulging less thought more action
Lonely laps body traps tracking lack of love making
Consuming loss seeking body love instead of heart shaping
To daughters,
we failed to love
Who entered into love
feeling like
someone else's No one.
Sorry we passed
our daddy issues
onto you.
Feeling abused,
we overcorrected
by neglecting you.
You misinterpreted
the way we filled
life's supply and demand
and added to your
feelings of being
unwanted.
Sorry our truth
was confusing
We didn't know how
important tea parties were
or keeping silly little secrets
or placing butterflies
on your noses
or skipping instead of running
and pleated dresses
with ballerina shoes
and hair tied with purple ribbons.
Didn't know there was
more information beyond
chapter one of the
How to be a Daddy Manual.
Sorry for not reading
between the lines.
Sorry for not escaping
the meeting sooner
Sorry for not slowing every minute
and making sure there
was more of you in it.
Please forgive us.
You are our special someone.
If I've never said it before
It's because
I was always thinking it
on the waning edge of day
sunset rolls white clouds to pink and amber strands
sifting back and forth
like ideas framed by indecision
this sprawling vista
a quiet glide between hope and trepidation
gold-pink clouds knotted in warm stretches of glow
drifting into scattershot lives
pushing
pulling
like threads of firebrand fury
pleated folds of color
a sunset
marginalized to go
menaced by the hermit thoughts of night
leaving a restorative resolve
to look beyond one's self
earth-bound
to stir the life-fire within
she stood up ...
reached across the table to
pinch his cheek -
two small red spots grew where
she had crimped his
dark-whiskered flesh ...
"Now they match ... scoundrel!"
for there flamed two more crimson
marks on the opposite side
where the other had pressed her
pretty plum bows just
a moment before ...
they both walked slowly away from him
in different directions
swaying like serpents 'for a flute
every eye affixed to their
coy affectations
and the suggested treasures that
moved beneath the pleated finery, draping ...
he quickly finished the
cold, green shot of absinthe
in his hand, and considered the question
that now faced him ...
which desirous, compelling, wholly
dangerous creature would
he follow?
I remember our beloved grandmother Elfrieda,
She came to live with us when we were young.
She brought an antique table and crafted chest with her.
Looked beautiful in our parent's living-room.
Good to have her with us,
When our parents worked and studied grandmother cared for us.
She would cook and bake delicious foods, I really enjoyed that.
Her ability with crafts continue to bless us.
She knit me a nordic sweater and sewed me an outfit for my birthday,
A beautiful sailor's sweater and pleated skirt for my birthday.
When I grew up i met and married a sailor.
Grandmother is such a good memory.
Grandmother lived with us in a pretty room,
She and mother would settle accounts monthly.
She had company and we were blessed with a very kind and giving grandmother,
Sewed my grade eight graduation dress and my grade thirteen graduation dress.
Mother and i would select the material,
MY grandmother would sew the beautiful dresses.
They are such good memories,
Rudi was her handsome and kind husband, our grandfather.
Such good memories growing up,
We were very blessed as children.
Author: Gwen von Erlach Schutz