Best Pompadour Poems
THE DOLL
With Mona Lisa wiles, unfurled.
Her porcelain lips with tight grip.
A button dress antique and pearled.
Her glass eyed threat.
Unnerving doll — she’s quite a trip.
A poignant face, pompadour curls.
Her long stem rose replaces whip?
Alien smile out of this world —
impenetrable craftsmanship.
I broke in pieces as she hurled
her glass eyed threat.
6/30/2019
Categories:
pompadour, dark,
Form:
Roundel
THE JESTER
Jester jingles
with madcap medusa-bells,
dressed in melodic-motley uniform.
A sea of foamy frills
frame the famed renaissance storyteller,
a creature feature
of phantasm for frightened children.
His ghost-white face
with comedic war paint.
Highly educated,
acts the fool,
preaching to the pompadour.
Folly finds the frolicking ear
of the entertained king,
even at the news of sinking ships.
The king’s delighted,
as balls lollygag around his throne room,
and pins dance before his eyes.
Mesmerized, hypnotized,
spirals spry and smiling.
Claps his cacophonous hands.
The puppet court amplifies the sound.
The buffoon’s very wise,
buried behind his makeup.
His strings
control the crown.
Royally screws the court
with tasteless remarks
and they bow over in laughter.
In the backroom formulates his investment plan.
Jester jingles,
of drama and lies,
of liberties and surprise.
8/3/2017
Kai Neumann’s Jester Contest
1st Place
Categories:
pompadour, history,
Form:
Alliteration
He walks into the bar
Like a movie star
With swagger
Out pouring the lager
Topped by a mop
Of such mythical proportion
It hushes the crowd
With its absorption
More adorn
Than a unicorn
Waving a pompadour
As big as a brontosaur
9/3/2019
Swagger Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
Categories:
pompadour, cool, hair,
Form:
Light Verse
She wore a tiffany hat with a bow and six big plumes of red and white,
it had an ultra wide asymmetrical brim that rolled up to one side.
When it came to dames like this I believe God ran out of humble stock !
She wore pompadour shoes, like she had nothing to lose
and rouge so red it made the cardinals have fainting spells !
Her hair was soaked in henna, elderberry & radish extract,
and I believe her dress was stitched in the boudoir of coco-channel!
She was a nouveau riche reveling in her new found fame
and everything in her life was right as rain until that fatal day,
when her hat expanded 10 x its size, growing past her shoulders
like a great big beast, of leavened yeast!
Her hat pins strained from the strain of those great big plumes,
moaning and groaning from her lithe walk and all that perfume !
Then First World War arrived and suddenly it was unpatriotic
to be concerned with one's appearance !
She was no Rockefeller and didn't own a rupee nor a heller,
so she became a steadfast loyal dame, like dear old Helen Keller .
What happened to that big old hat, with the plumes of red and white ?
She stewed it, brewed it, boiled it down then poured it in a flask,
and yes she drank it slowly,... just in case you thought to ask !
March 30/ 2025
Categories:
pompadour, analogy, humorous,
Form:
Narrative
Have you met my lady cat
A most prestigious aristocrat
She's of extremely dignified ascent
Genuine regal blue blood descent
Everyday might as well be a holiday
My lady’s a class act in every way
Elegant and graceful as they come
Madame de Pompadour quite venturesome
Prances proud in her queenly manner
That's how she graces my humble manor
AP: 3rd place 2022, Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on September 6, 2020 for contest COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (5) sponsored by BRIAN STRAND
Categories:
pompadour, cat, class,
Form:
Free verse
The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Twenty-Six
Soon all the rooms at trysting hotel were for years booked through
By pilgrims from Mindanao and Minangkabau to Timbuktu
Saudi princes bought the hotels at Carrefour de Pompadour
Kings of Malaysia with retinues planned long séjours
Sea Anne-Anne’s “broken news” chartered all the sailing club’s boats
The Mayor sacked the Accounts Chief for failing to raise the rates
Sea Be-As put out feelers to buy the Pompiers de Paris
All-Cheese-Seas-Roar made a secret pact with the mosque’s prelates
All-Lions-Fun-Press opened offices at the Préfecture’s terrace
Bee-Bee-Sea late as usual wanted a Royal Palace
So they got the Queen to confer Lordship on the Président
Beings-Port set about organizing annual matches face to fa ce
Between Robo-Cops and the Darling Dears clad in chadors
On one condition: they all fought it out in the lake outdoors
Just then His Holiness with his yea-sayers strode out for air
When boom-voiced Commandant pounced on them with Robo-Cop jaws:
“Pray! Esteemed Prophet’s Emissary! Lend me thy sovereign ear!
Habeas corpus ad subjiciendum this writ makes clear
Miscreant Tent Maker’s son Omar doth s’installe à demeure… »
« STOP ! » ordained the Imam, « I must forthwith lead the dohr prayer !”
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Categories:
pompadour, allegory,
Form:
Rubaiyat
The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake: Part Thirty-Six
Hardly had the CS drawn tight the net round the mosque and lake
The red phone on his desk at the Préfecture signalled a break
Through at the Orly Airport end: “Guests from the Near East: ARRIVED!”
Protocol required their being transported for Prophet’s sake!
The Foreign Office rushed to proffer red carpet treatment with gloves
But the Princes refused to board the suburban trains in droves
Roads stood blocked choc-a-block so helicopter commutes were proposed:
A landing pad at Carrefour de Pompadour if the Lord approves!
And so it came to pass but the Princes stopped at junction sign-posts:
“What’s this?” Prince addressed his French Agent: “Hôtel des Postes-
Banque de France, Hôtel de Police, Hôtel de Ville, Préfecture Hôtel du Département?
Why haven’t you bought these hotels as well? The billions we pay in costs!”
“Your Highness! If you’ll kindly pardon me, these hôtels aren’t for sale!”
“Well, never mind Hôtel des Postes! Buy me Banque de France sans fail!”
“I’ll see what I can do but it might take a pretty penny or two!”
“That’s no sweat! For fifty years or so we’ll pay in gas and oil!”
“As for the last entertainment consignment my retinue still complains!
They got stitched and patched up fifteen-year-olds for their pains!”
“Your Highness, that’s the age limit down here since laissez-faire!
We’d be hard put to find a virgin over ten in these terrains!”
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Categories:
pompadour, allegory,
Form:
Rubaiyat
Standing by a tree, rifle on hip
Leaves red and yellow like a Viking ship
Watching from the shadows, a poachers eye
Silently waiting as phantoms glide by
A noise, just a bird on the forest floor
Preening and dancing like Madame Pompadour.
Footsteps follow a distant call
Crouching like a woodlouse in a steel backed ball
Face in the dirt, a mouthful of leaves
Hiding in the gloom, nobody sees
Silence, nothing but another ghost
With the stealth of a tiger, moves back to his post.
Categories:
pompadour, war,
Form:
Light Verse
Almost four-o-clock in the afternoon
and not a single tambourine in sight
you should have jumped over the moon
hours ago, until
secret alien creatures on the surface
said the autopsy was inconclusive
which explains for me why
icicles drip from your heart, as the sun
warms the memory of your embrace, like
moonflowers, gently unfolding at night
reveal the mysteries of love
the bandleader, wearing a feathered pompadour
signals a final formation
somewhere in time
your tune marches into the distance
marches
.......into the distance
01/02/11
Categories:
pompadour, lost love
Form:
Free verse
She struts out of the golden elevator
like the Grand Marshall of Macy’s Thanksgiving parade
Crystal high-heels rhythmically clicking
on the gleaming marble floor
Pompadour bouffant hair
that’s styled so platinum electric
Purple Persian silk dress
accentuated by a
diamond studded heart-shaped necklace
Sashay walking with such sexy flair ...
her haughty, ice-chiseled chin held high
Looks that carry a distant, superior air
She’s letting you know,
she’s the Grand Poo-bah —
she don’t dispense hellos
She’s queen caliph, empress shah ...
She’s just letting you know,
she’s the Grand Poo-bah
Her affinity for making grandiose entrances
into boardroom meetings is legendary
She loves telling the bigwig execs to pipe down,
to park their ego tubas
She’s orchestrating the show,
she’s the Grand Poo-bah
Making sure that you know,
she’s Miss Machiavellian maestro
She never dispenses any rah-rah,
it’s so unbecoming of a Grand Poo-bah
Her title didn’t come by proxy or election,
it was bestowed by a hereditary designation
Like Papa, like daughter ...
She issues grim decrees,
telling you to get your business house in order
She loves having underlies lay the red carpet down,
to give royal reverence to her ka
This lets everybody know,
she’s the imperial Grand Poo-bah
Categories:
pompadour, character, identity, image, woman,
Form:
Imagism
In a restaurant
Elvis hung on a wall
Slightly crooked –
-nostalgic sepia,
Trademark pompadour.
His far away gaze
Staring blankly
Out at nowhere,
Through a window
At the drabness beyond.
In the background
“Always on my mind”,
Plays quietly behind the scenes -
- while a midday sun
Trickles colour into Elvis.
I leave after coffee
And take a walk
Down lonely street,
Where I will search for
Elvis in heartbreak hotel -
- I need to tell him
How much I miss him.
Categories:
pompadour, absence, mentor, music, tribute,
Form:
Free verse
There's a party going on upstairs,
your invited, to come and have a scare.
H.G. Wells, will meet you at the gate,
costumes required, hurry don't be late.
Vincent Price will be tonights D.J.
Halloween is his favorite Holiday.
He's spinning "Thriller", while dressed up as "Kiss".
Watching Claude Rains do the "Transylvania Twist".
Steve McQueen came dressed up as the "Blob",
he's serving up the zombie shish-ka-bobs.
Elsa Lanchester placed real bats within her hair.
While Marty Feldom keeps yelling "Frau Blucher".
At the stroke of the witching hour,
St. Peter amps up all the power.
A disco ball drops down from a cloud.
Out on the dance floor, forms a massive crowd.
Michael Jackson then leads them all in dance,
while Lon Chaney and Karloff take their chance,
to join the angels in harmony,
While "Monster Mash" is sang by Lugosi.
Even the Devil made it through the door.
He's the one sporting an Elvis pompadour.
So much fun is had by one and all,
at Heavens Annual Halloween Ball
For Heaven Hustle
By: Tony Brooks
Categories:
pompadour, funnyhalloween,
Form:
Rhyme
Shoop, Shoop
Shoe, Wop, Wop
Shoop, Shoop
Shoe, Wop
The moment I laid eyes on you
I knew it was true love
You were sharing a root beer float with your friends
Down at the soda shop
I looked debonair in my Pompadour
You cute in your poodle skirt
I took out my comb to slick down the sides
As you smiled, giggled, and twirled
I asked if you'd like to go out
Just you and me on a date
I picked you up at seven o'clock
In my 56' Chevrolet
Your father gave me a stern look
Your mother a gleam in her eye
He asked where we were going
Why church sir, I said with a smile
Shoop, Shoop
Shoe, Wop, Wop
Shoop, Shoop
Shoe, Wop
I took you to the drive in
Bobs Burgers and Late Night Shakes
Afterward, we both went dancing
At the Hop just down the street
You had my heart all in a flutter
As we slowed danced all night
It was then I knew for certain
That I would make you my lovely wife
I got you home way past your curfew
Your dads silhouette by the front door
You said I can't go back to that
I pressed the peddle to the floor
So here we are these many years later
Me as your husband you as my wife
With our grandkids playing about our feet
Thinking back to that fateful night
Shoop, Shoop
Shoe, Wop, Wop
Shoop, Shoop
Shoe, Wop
Categories:
pompadour, love,
Form:
Rhyme
A tad bit out of tilt and forgot where I placed my brush slash
Pen or perhaps it's simply another holiday seasons, starry nights
Grandiloquent holographic hangover ? Chasing her cobwebs of reason
While listening unto the Cutting Crew's anthem, One for The Mockingbird..
Pirouetting about horizontal rows their Peacocks, spreading congenials wings
Atop polymorphic stages adorned something bizarre as, I cannot find my poetic
Palette damask rose and pompadour this image reflecting a renaissance; jingoisms.
Categories:
pompadour, analogy, angel, art,
Form:
Sure on this shiny knight I pee
I so detest the parade I see
He is more pompous than a pompadour
And his stuffed mail I do abhor.
Oh so gay is his plume
He is but a raving buffoon.
I will not bow to his magnificence
There is no circumstance of any significance.
Categories:
pompadour, humor,
Form: