Best Porcelain Poems
Porcelain doll, with a face so pretty
a country gal, ran away to the city
Worked in a bar, dancing on tables
beat shovelling sh-it, in Pa’s stables
Looks for love, but only finds bums
lowlife gamblers, in rundown slums
Go back home
not a chance
One day soon
find romance
Porcelain doll, life’s becoming gritty
rent’s due, ain’t nothing in her kitty
All knocked up, mascara streaking
bloodshot eyes, skin’s unappealing
Sleeps in the pines, winter it snows
crystallised tears, angel eyes froze
Barely alive
baby’s dead
No way back
no warm bed
Porcelain doll, face’s the committee
lunatic asylum, nobody shows pity
Shock treatment, four hourly dose’s
prison guard lesbians, with halitosis
broken doll, made one bad decision
they chipped her head, thin incision
Eyes don’t blink
stare at space
No expression
just a doll’s face
By
David Kavanagh
It sits back and waits, it lives in your soul.
It slams you and breaks you when you finally feel whole.
It’s been so long since you’ve let it in.
Standing on guard, it just wants to win.
You finally give in the force is to strong.
You remember the time it helped you belong.
Falling so fast, it sucks all your being.
It’s got you again with you not even seeing.
You sit all alone, wonder how you got here.
You remember the pain, the shame and the fear.
You want to put down but its too hard to fight.
You are just days away from turning out the light.
It is growing and growing, it is growling so loud.
By you giving up this demon is proud.
It waited so long to steal you for good.
It pounced on your weakness, it knew that it could.
Now your heart slows, your body shuts down.
It looks from above you and laughs like a clown.
Whether heroin or crack, whether beer or hard liquor.
It runs through your body, you get sicker and sicker.
Your plan did not work, it takes off your mask.
Your soul leaves your body, remembering the past.
How did this happen? This can’t be the end.
You have so much to do and so much to mend.
It is raining outside, there are so many people.
Looking down on the church, you watch from the steeple.
Mom please don’t cry, I did not mean to die
All that I wanted was just one more high.
The casket now closes, I’m scared full of fear.
I can’t believe I caused this, the end now is here.
The pain that I’ve caused, the lives I have ruined.
I put them through this, it’s all of my doing.
My family now throws that final black rose.
The end now is here, this now is my low.
It wasn’t worth this, it was not even fun.
It accomplished what it wanted, addiction has won.
Our dance began in the spring, it was meant to be.
There was a glimpse of heaven in your perfect smile.
Although imprisoned by desire, I still felt free!
Yet pleasure turned to pain after a little while.
My friends warned me, that I should stay away from you.
Still the heart wants what it wants regardless of cost!
Moments felt like eternity but were too few.
You absorbed my very essence and I was lost.
I fell willingly into your passionate arms.
Upon a pleasured bed I intertwined with you.
My logical mind was overcome by your charms.
I idealized perfection, that's what fools do!
Try as I might to reach your sad and lonely heart.
You never allowed me to touch more than your skin.
It was almost like being, enchanted by art.
Imagining substance, but the canvas was thin.
Fate gifted us passion, we drank from its chalice;
wading through waves of fierce flame increasing ardor.
In summer, your sweet roses covered our palace.
The time away from your touch has become harder.
As I look across a wind-blown spray of ocean,
my mind turns to the sadness of our parting hours
Kneeling, I beg for a distance closing potion
so I can reclaim coveted castle tower.
My wish is to be with you there in your bower.
To see a lovingly longing, desperate face
enshrined in fears deepest depths as we part from clutch.
I remind you distance cannot erase love's trace
or lessen my need to feel your soft, gentle touch.
Last week, I sent you a love-soaked, tear-stained letter;
For I'll return aboard a ship needing your love.
I truly believe no one can love you better,
Yet I fear you'll shatter like a porcelain dove?
Written with my friend Robert Lindley.
Love is like porcelain
So perfect and smooth
Two sides giving
With so much to lose
Love is like building blocks
Lived day by day
Words can say
But only true hearts display
Love is like porcelain
When cracked can go wrong
Impurities take over
We never sing the same song
Love is like building blocks
By day they reside
If they crumble and fall
Then grows the divide
Love is like porcelain
It has to be lived
Fifty, fifty
Each has to give
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life-8.php
I am a porcelain doll.
Fair of face, coveted by a young girl.
My smile is welcoming, cheeks are rosey,
My dress wrinkle and tear free
Each button in place.
I am a porcelain doll.
Cracks feathered lightly across my pained face.
I’m the one they come to when worried, stressed
Clutching at me too tightly
I’m feeling my age.
I am a porcelain doll.
Older now, but still adored by my girl
Who needs me much more as she fights cancer.
She sets me down way too hard
And runs to vomit.
I am a porcelain doll.
My face sloppily glued back together
That painted-on smile at last wiped away.
Who would smile at her torture?
My dress has a stain.
I am a porcelain doll
Everything I once thought vital has changed.
I hate my hair — because she is now bald.
Glad my presence gives her hope.
Wish my arms could hug.
I am a sad, broken doll.
I hate my gingham frock — I should wear black.
I am dirty, cleaned only by her tears
And now of those who miss her.
The lid closes. We rest.
January 6, 2019
Free Verse Only Poetry Contest
Emile Pinet
Statuesque, in the literal sense
for of porcelain, she was sculpted.
So loved by the sun
that before drowning
in the sea, he whispered to her,
"A kiss bestowed on your brow,
to bring you to life.
Live during the moonlight's hours,
and each dawn she'll return you to me."
Canvasing the world as we solder metal bandages to wooden wings
We attempt to cover pain by silencing what our scars sing
A noted tension with a vulnerable assist
Showcases hope and a life we refuse to resist
The porcelain skin that encompasses our ceramic hearts
Shatters with words, fragile from the start
We attempt to grow strong and bring misfortune to rest
Never acknowledging our torment in life’s daunting test
Powerful stances and barricaded walls
Provide the illusion of safety from the inevitable fall
We torture our minds with grace and self-worth
A future and freedom promised at birth
Together we provoke sanity and justifying results
But solely we fail due to committmentless faults
Pressure is applied for us all to do right
Causing the misery to show only at night
We lie restless, we toss, and we turn
Contemplating all failures and lessons we learn
Memories and dreams driven by desires and needs
Pose as the trough through which our fiction feeds
Obtaining the most out of life is what we all want
Hoping when we die it’s not viewed as a meaningless stunt
Written: February 24, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Moonbeams kindle ambrosian dreams
Love evolves on auric gleams
A gem in space, a costly pearl, a Luna
Fetching felicitous feelings, a fervid fawn
In this wassail ethereal area, hearts soar
I was awestruck by the lambent moon
Glittering gems, gilded in dull dust
Vanity surpasses a chimeric spell
A cromulent devotee, in awe
Emerald aureola, blazing high star
Heavenly memoir amphorae
Sew love from words in utter gaze.
Toed moon syntax tonight
In our bucolic spot, love will thrive
We are those who wield abilities of orbs
Sparse straps, splitting stripes
Love outshines crimson swirls
Sapphire adorns translucent tulips
Sturgeon Roe names cast in crystal
Sipping strawberries spoils serene seas
My love infused a porcelain spirit
Sketch my comely soul
Let me breathe your raspy hiccups
Believe me—beyond oblivion
Your Zinnia blooms gambol my heart
Gorgeous, lost in a well-woven nimbus
Fugacious felicity and fluff on fiery flowers
Rising flames, faint shooting, conflict.
Outside orbs offer otherworldly orbits
Deciphering diaphanous riddles
Could night cherubs grasp our grace?
Classic clear cloud cores
A balmy silk breeze hides enigmas
Covered below perseid colors
Your dulcet eyes sparkled dimly
Rose-tuned praise of cyan candidness
Via velvety vintage valleys, vivid verse vests
Beleaguer back the fire of our waltz
The moonlight lifts our mellifluous breath
Dreams soar in tangerine skies.
I see the eye of an albino deer,
facing east, as I face north
It is almost silent
The sky is an empty granite gray
His eyes match
the mimosa flowers
that feather down in a fluffy rain
around us, unevenly
He looks at my hazel eyes,
probably not seeing the color
I hope he considers me
as I consider him
It is 5:15 on the road.
We are sandwiched in by woods
in the fatigued heat
of a drawn-out Sunday in June
when even the cardinals are tired of singing
The buttercups
are a dusty shade of mustard,
too dry to stand up straight
The male albino drops his head,
after figuring me out,
nibbles the hot grass
and flicks his ears
His tail swishes away a fly
A hungry mosquito
mocks this moment
and won’t leave my ears alone
The oaks and pines stop swaying
as if holding their breath
There is heavy honeysuckle
in the air, and smoke
Someone must be burning leaves
I am close enough to see
the velvet blush of his antlers
He is a four pointer
I count the seconds
and try to find meaning
in this
A red-shouldered hawk
announces itself
and the porcelain king
scampers off
into the thicket
Shy smile on your lips,
Eeriness wrapped your orbs. Please,
Vanish from my dreams.
I am the porcelain dermis seat;
I have been greeted by many without deceit.
Doing the dirty work; I don’t mind -
For this is my purpose; my daily grind -
I watch young children potty train;
Their parent’s efforts are not in vain.
Will all young men please lift my seat?
An angry young lady I don’t want to greet .
I’ve been hugged by drunks in the A.M.
I’m utterly disgusted at all of them…….
The ‘ magic triad ‘ = a smile, kind word, and a touch.
Of these three, “thank you!” is phrase I don’t hear very much :-(
Wash me, clean me, and my lid don’t slam…..
One day, you’re going to need me when you’re in a jam!
Although my seat is sometimes cold;
My heart is warm; and my courage is bold!
Today we will meet and then depart:
On your way out, a kind word impart…………..
*****************************************************
Inspired by Matt's contest "speak chair speak"
In the still,
in the dark,
each morning
I practice my art.
While I try to go deep,
the daily mundane
I achieve
approaches the inane.
And if fame
is what I seek to gain
I would do better
to find reality
in another venue,
than continue this
insanity,
so like trying
to rub through a sink's
porcelain with a finger nail.
And yet, in my sink
is a darkened area,
made so by years of
running water.
Proof, perhaps,
that we can
go beyond
the pedestrian.
In a small shop outside of town,
on a dark and eery day,
while rain comes crashing down,
there I lay in dismay.
Silently I turn my head,
to see my reflection from within.
With words unsaid,
I see my glassy blue eyes.
Where a spirit once lied,
That is now dead.
Left hollow and empty.
A delicate face,
with now cracks in its place.
From hands unfair,
lies these cracks from smacks.
Neck scorned red,
where hands once led,
across its surface.
Arms bruised from the lips of
grips.
Legs with cuts from fallen times,
defending what was rightfully mine.
My dress is ripped and torn.
From a time when my tears were
born.
Breaking chains,
running to far away plains.
Yelling out in pain,
slowly going insane.
With hair amess.
Tick tock....
Tick tock.... goes the clock.
That time has passed.
My skin now shattered,
like shardes of glass.
Now bleeding vains,
like sinking rain,
leaves me with red stains.
Vains now wires,
once hidden my human desires.
Cuts now cracks,
cracks now holes,
now without a soul.
Morphing my skin into porcelain.
Despondent, she stares at the mirror,
hoping to see the girl of her youth.
And yet, aging has weathered her skin,
and the sun's harsh light confirms the truth.
Wrinkles, masked by a coat of makeup,
she touches up, whatever's peeling.
And the false face staring back at her
reflects the distress she is feeling.
A dab of powder fills in crow's feet,
a rosy rouge brings her cheekbones back.
And the bags under her eyes get smoothed,
while mascara lashes are brushed black.
Red lips complete the porcelain doll,
while all her blemishes disappear.
And once more, she transforms her image;
hiding years behind a thin veneer.
At the break of Dawn, she poses in place,
as a rising sun stains the night sky pink.
And my artistic hand begins to race;
sketching her features with charcoal and ink.
Ebony, outlines, mesmerizing eyes,
as if she stepped from a fantasy dream.
And as cotton-candy clouds tint the skies,
gilded shafts of light make her aura gleam.
With her white face as featureless as smoke:
colored silks adorn this porcelain doll.
And as my muse guides my every brush stroke:
I'm inspired to try and capture it all.
A Japanese Geisha touts perfection;
nothing about her, invites correction.