Best Pretty Pretty Poems
Everyday is beautiful, son,
and no that's not being optimistic.
You're here - you're alive - with one more day on your plate.
That's just being realistic.
Tuesdays are for Tenderness, for the little things found beneath the rubble:
a flower peeking or a new-dream seeking, even though its subtle.
Wednesdays are for Wishes --- like hoping on that pretty, pretty star,
for something just around the corner is never all that far.
And Thursdays are for Thoughtfulness, on those reflective afternoons,
where all of life hangs between your ears, as your heart struggles to make room
for all the love that's bursting inside of you ...
(I know it's there!
hiding somewhere ... perhaps beneath the dirt and muck)
Fridays are for Friendship --- to the ones who you know true,
and hold you oh so close, despite all of life's various hues.
Saturdays are for Sanctification from all of distraction's clutter;
an occasion to make small your piece of toast, for there's too much of time's butter,
spreading oh so thin on Little You.
And Sundays are for Sunflowers, and the smile that ensues on even the coldest soul.
Treasure it child, if you ever see it bloom, for she's a fragile beauty that makes you whole.
Yes, my son ... EVERY day is beautiful, and Mondays especially,
for that's the day we praise our Mothers,
for giving birth to us at such a time as this (God knows it wasn't easy)
And no, I don't need to see the Seven Wonders,
to know how beautiful life can be,
for I've got all the splendor I can handle ...
... seven days a week.
Image Used: The I Hate Mondays T-Shirt Picture
Written April 10th, 2016
For the Images Contest Hosted by Silent One
A poem about infanticide of girls...
"Save Our Sisters!"
Many girls lost, many girls missed
Many girls lost, never to be Ms.
Strings of girls, strands of pearls,
Gone, gone, gone. Pretty, pretty, girls.
A mother's hug, a sister’s laugh, a daughter’s kiss
Lost, lost, lost. Missed, missed, missed.
Many girls lost, many girls missed
Many girls lost, never to be Ms.
Young girls grow up, become young ladies.
But for Indian girls, that’s a big maybe
Young girls grow up, become young ladies.
But for Chinese girls, that’s a big maybe,
Many girls lost, many girls missed
Many girls lost, never to be Ms.
Run, Run, Run, hide your daughters,
Run, Run, Run. Run from the slaughter.
Wake up world, we’ve lost too many sisters.
S.O.S. World, Save Our Souls, Save Our Sisters.
NoelsArt
Comments: In some parts of the world, the three deadliest words are “It’s a girl”. Girls are killed for being girls. After watching this movie trailer http://www.itsagirlmovie.com/ , I wrote the poem above. FEEDBACK WELCOME.
The colorant of dawn, the cardinal sees,
intoning its hues with, “pretty...pretty...pretty.”
As I covet red feathers, in the teaberry tree,
the sunlit chickadee harmonizes, “hey sweetie.”
The woodpecker like a heckler is pining for laughs -
pounding, drumming the marionette for gaffs.
A tufted titmouse tweets, “peter...peter...peter.”
The goldfinch dines on dandelion seeds, lilting sweeter.
Outfitted with winsome wildlife, comfortable and commodious,
my small bit of forest resonates with songbirds, melodious.
Pretty poems, like colourful crayons
In the eyes of a child; escaping ~
The realities of it all....
These words, these fantasies; these vapours?!
In this world as we know it
A place of risen dust....
Always returning unto its emptiness
That can never be filled, with pretty poems!?
Pretty flowers and before you know it
Their illusion, has withered away....
And still your left, with another day
A day in the valley of sorrows void
Of happiness; unless?!
Happiness is what you count as a breath
And then you gasp; choking upon the truth
The truth, the truth of it all....
Pretty poems, pretty, pretty; “Reality”
These words, these dreams, these fantasies ~
Pretty, if never could you see; pretty poems
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How pretty, can they be!?
A Cardinal’s trill, peep…peep…peep…peep…peep…
often full of himself, wakes me from sleep.
peep…peep…pretty…pretty…pretty; rings out his bliss;
across Kentucky’s bluegrass in the morning mist.
A tad egocentric but, he’s allowed;
his bright red plumes make him oh, so proud.
He’s a splash of color in the trees,
a scarlet, rose red dot, singing in the breeze.
Peep…peep…pretty…pretty…birdie; I’m a pretty…birdie;
must get on his partner’s nerves; he can be over-chirpy.
the female is who is a, rusty brown.
Has to be jealous of that noisy clown!
Written 2-14-19
dialog with myself invariably involves others
we are all perceivers nobody escapes
no really and truly trust me on this
no manufacturing of childish evasions
maybe it is best to be born into a family
with family values
ablaze with comfort and sanitation
lost in a forest of memories
amusingly arrayed for shoppers
exactly like the TV version
fortunately I was in touch
with my inner juvenile delinquent
unlettered by any known normalcy
nor crazed by the expectation of gold
or even gold paint from a rattle can
our addiction to pleasure
is no Darwinian accident
we really do learn to act from movies
no really and truly trust me on this
our tune is a complicated little number
in several keys at once
upon your mother's pedestal is one
between cognition and reflex is another
in the keyhole universe
location location location
I may need an axe to free my thoughts
just so I can play dumb
when you know too much
you go for the guts
in a trail blazing effort to avoid
media suppression by the CIA
Clairvoyant Intelligence Agency
chronically in for interrogation
OK let's play who's more paranoid
if this poem is minus the above line
then it has been tampered with
754 million hand sewn Humpty Dumpty
nerve connections later
sutured like Frankenstein's test dummy
a bungee cord full of existential tension
I seem to be strapped to a microscope
plunging to new vistas and panoramas
recoil in horror from what you were
behavior can also be modified
by better info if you let it
how's that for mind warfare
pretty propaganda pretty pretty
for the young and the innocent
left screaming in a gas station toilet
wrapped in today's newspaper
comics section puzzle page
how long can the charade continue
when autonomous is still an illegal word
this is an audience participation piece
from the Federal Pencil Council
and for the terminally nostalgic
the night arched quietly above
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
LooK at mY CAT
And he licKs
I caN't fiX
With a tiP oF my HAT
Or a CrucifiX
CandlestickS CandlestickS
DaRe I flick at the wicK
With a prettY PrettY stick
Or my finger tiP
LikE a TricK
Oh so QuicK
WithOut TemPuRR OnlY RAGE
ThaT mY CAT
YoU KnOw mY CAT
CamE Screaming from HIS Cage
From his Cage to his StAgE
I could WAGE
or disengage
EiTHER oR
I cannot say
Can I Say???
I cannot say
So — I
TiP aNd I toE
I tippY tippY toE
I tiP tiP toE
PrettY HappY TippY TOE
'CuZ mY CAT
You kNoW mY CAT
My SuPeR Trippy CAT
ScAred oF ALL
Ten FeeT Tall
ShAdoWs DANCING oN thE waLL
On thE waLL
PorcelaiN DollS
"What'd I See?"
It's whAt I saw
ThAT mY CAT
YoU kNoW my CAT
WaS
- drippiNg
-- suGaR
--- from
---- His
----- paW!!!
Contest-- Voices.... by Silent One 12-08-2018
3rd place
Contest-- Wonderstruck by Robert James Ligouri 11-28-2021
Honorable Mention
I’m feeling pretty pretty bad
A young child will be oh so sad
They left their precious teddy bear
On a comfy airport lounge chair
A lovely security guard
Tried oh so very hard
To reunite that teddy bear
That now is in his tender care
Guess it will be a fraught flight
And tonight a very sleepless night
The little one will be delighted
When bear and owner are finally reunited
Jan Allison
4th August 2014
Pretty, pretty girl.
Oh, so pretty, Girl, you are.
Why so sad? Pretty Girl?
For sadness in the eyes of your beauty is most certain, a travesty.
Alone you feel..Don't you, Pretty Girl?
For it is evident, that you are weary and broken.
Filled with pain, you still rise each day.
You rise and put that ruby red smile on your flawless face.
Only I know. Your ruby red smile merely comes from the tube of your designer lipstick.
You were left alone. Hurt and broken.
Though be it not your fault, you remain confused.
You were left to wander.
Left to wonder
You were left to ponder.
And, so you did.
In the wee hours of your countless sleepless nights;
You continue with your infinite search.
Endlessly searching.
Infinitely barren.
Don't cry, Pretty Girl.
No more tears.
Like those of the beautifully inked roses whose tears stain your beautiful skin.
For you are loved.
Of that, I am certain.
Relax, Pretty Girl.
Exhale. Relax and exhale.
Your peace shall come.
Lets travel across ages,
To a time that cannot be;
My character, attitude,behavior,
Through my parent's eyes lets see.
"The day you were born,
Old memories will always be there,
First time you in my arms,
From beautiful eyes to pretty pretty hair.
Cherished and admired every moment,
All cute things done as a child,
Happiness in spending time with you,
Whether you were soft or wild.
Proud moments came my way,
The day you went to school,
Small achievements began...like
Your first lap across the pool.
Music became your voice,
With your feet dancing all the way,
Artist, dancer...how many??
Cluless..i would probably say.
Days passed, you grew up,
From a kid to a teen;
The perfect logic of the world,
Misunderstandings making you mean.
The way you acted and reacted,
When i wanted to show you care,
Although weird in your context,
Made our quality times very rare.
When you realised your attitude,
Although it was a little late,
I could always forgive cause
Love can never become hate.
Getting back to ourselves
Joy exceeding boundaries in life,
Had the best times on earth,
Till you got promoted to a wife.
Understanding though your married
And living life all new,
Whenever, whatever be the situation
I will always love you.
Your the best thing that ever happened to me
I guess now you realise it,
With the birth of another life through you
Your love for all of us has to split.
Hope you enjoy everyday with your kid,
Like how i did with you,
I will still be there with you always
Till God makes me say adieu.
I know you will love and miss me more;
My departure will definitely bring down a tear,
My soul and spirit rests with you,
Cause you will always be my Dear."
Poor, Poor Casanova
Once in a time,
in a place known as Umbria.
Spied dist I, oh grand lake!
Trasimeno ,Trasimeno
Twas said,” oh So many roman soldiers
were slain here in some long forgotten war.”
Unto the waters sleep their bones.
Now on pretty pretty hill
dwells not only serpents,
but wantonness eternal beauty.
She is; all that is woman.
Guarding the castle dwells too,
Mark Antony a cruel large red cat,
commanding four Roman soldiers’ parrots.
There’s graves scattered here about
of those uppity puppity knights,
who desired a little too much amore,
Oh how the great dark gates protect her.
On strange quiet nights listen to the wind
and hear silent, silent whispers
of fabulous Venus.
Amore, amore, amore mio.
Sssshhhh , sssshhhh!
Fools its Pompio and the rusty crusty parrots.
But I do sigh, for didst I
her very scent didst taste.
Grievous cursed am I now to follow Cleopatra everywhere.
Thou charming thing
magically turning me unto a Billy goat.
So mournfully falling about a place, Perugia.
For whilst I prance, dance, entrance ye,
Eve dwells on high.
With cruel Mark Antony aside mine heart.
Beware Casanova those mischievous servants,
in beautiful Gethsemane.
Who upon high ancient olive tree, watch ye.
Jealousy is mine only friend
could be mine pathetic end.
Spare me, mourn me,
poor, poor Casanova.
Wilma Mankiller, I love that name
It wasn't too much of a nothing day
Such a pretty, pretty boy
In such a pretty, pretty car
Nearness of blood
He didn't go far
Wounded, abandoned, lost
Hidden inside the woods
deep waters
shallow grave
Winds in the trees
whisper
whisper
Only God knows the name
Perched on winter's bone
Sings a sparrow
no horrors
without sorrow
Forced to bare the bitter chill
Of infinity's winters alone
How bright the stars
How cruel the frost
after death
nature follows
La la la, la-la-la, laaa-la!
La la la, la-la-la, laaa-la!
SO THE KITTY SAID TO ME,
MEOW MEEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW.
SHE SAID TIME TO FEED ME,
MEOOOWWWWOOOO.
MEOW MEOOWWW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW,
LIKE THAT OF A BANSHEE.
MEOW MEOOWWW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW,
SHE CALLS OUT TO ME.
MEOW MEOOWWW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW,
SCRATCHING AT THE DOOR.
MEOW MEOOWWW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW,
SHE DEMANDS FOR MORE.
UPON THE WINDOW SILL,
MEOW MEEOW MEOW MEEOW MEEOW!
SHE SAID CHASE ME STILL,
MEOOOWWWWOOOO, WILD AND PROUD.
here kitty kitty kitty
pretty pretty princess
here kitty kitty kitty
pretty pretty princess
(kitty)
Laaaaa, la-la-laaaa, laaaa laaa!
Wooohhh-laaa, laaa-la-laaaa!
MEOW MEOOWWW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW,
SCRATCHING AT THE DOOR.
MEOW MEOOWWW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW,
SHE DEMANDS FOR MORE.
MEOW MEOOWWW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW,
THE KITTY QUEEN OF NIGHT.
MEOW MEOOWWW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW,
HER VOICE A BANSHEE’S CRY.
Laaaaa, la-la-laaaa, laaaa laaa!
Wooohhh-laaa, laaa-la-laaaa!
Girl, I’m sorry that I called you
So darn late the other night
I started thinkin’ when I was drinkin’ and
Had a thought to call and say hi
Girl, I’m into you so, you're the whole dang show
I grabbed up my phone that knows your name
Had my lovin’ words up ‘n ready to go
As beer was dullin’ down the pain
C1:
Then I told
Your pretty pretty face
That I’m still ridin’ bulls in Amarillo (but)
Needed to hear
Your sweet sweet voice
Before my hurtin’ head hit the pillow
But hun.. my 8-second ride.. had them all cheerin’
It may be the beer but
You’re all I was hearin’..
Yeah, all I was hearin
I know you hate the calls
But your voice really helps me win
If you wanna stop them forever
Come on the road
Com’on just give in
C2:
Then I told
Your pretty pretty face
I’m still ridin’ bulls in Hermosillo (but)
Needed to hear
Your sweet sweet voice
Before my hurtin’ head hit the pillow
But hun, my 8-second ride had them all cheerin’
It may be the beer but
You’re all I was hearin’..
And if you say no
I’ll go it alone
With my phone (and)
Your pretty face
An-me explainin’ that
I’m still ridin’ bulls in Camarillo (but)
Needed to hear
Your sweet sweet voice
Before this hurtin’ head hit the pillow
But hun, my 8-second ride had them all cheerin’
It may be the beer but
You’re all I was hearin’
Yeah, all I was hearin
ITTY BITTY SONG
Snip snip red hair
A pretty pretty long
Snip snip auburn light
While I sing this
Itty bitty song
Reveals a pale moon
So round o round
It reflects the pool
O round howdy hum
I hardly hear a sound
Thistles and cordial bristles
Grow out and downward
Flow in red sea waves
With an itch and a scratch
From side to sideward
Kim Rodrigues ©2017