Best Princesses Poems
Pretty princesses
Dancing all around
Frolicking through fields
Very beautiful
Just like you!
When I was a child, I love Charlie’s angels
Now I’m adult, I love Poetry Soup’s angels
Top of them are our beloved Community Builders
Leading Ladies, the Princesses are our dearest PD, Skat and Anne Lise.
Many of them are on the list
But our angels with their support is boundless ever since
Very talented poets, so welcoming…they lovingly encourage
To snuggle down in our second home as we share, spill the ink.
Since my lines of poem are only limited to ten
Get one more, Princess Sarah K and no more line so I end.
November 17, 2016 7.40pm
©2016Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
First Place
Contest: Community Builders Free For All Tribute
Judged: 12/25/2016
Sponsor: Poet Andrea Dietrich
So many years of loneliness -
These castle walls have spoke.
I've searched for my princess,
and a sleeping beauty woke!
I thought my luck was a joke,
but I finally found total bliss -
Even as I fought through the smoke,
it came from a princesses kiss!
She has black raven hair,
pale white creamy skin,
she has a yummy derriere,
and she's the sweetest taste of sin.
She takes me places I've never been -
What can bring more joy than this?
She inspires the push of my pen -
it came from a princesses kiss!
I feel this amazing vibration -
love has finally found me.
A princess of this generation,
explained in this ballade poetry -
she's a woman from my fantasy,
and I've never known such bliss.
What emerged into my reality -
it came from a princesses kiss!
A prince ready to share his crown,
and nothing can compare to this.
Love's done knocked me down -
It came from a princesses kiss!
Wrote for Catie Lindsey's contest "Ballade Boomba"
Enjoyed Catie;) My first "Ballade!"
Once upon a time…
Waking up at four, the princesses dress, then adorn their crowns with fascinators. Princess Marie of Dutchess County courts her majesty,
with a lovely rose steep.
we bless our mother
she’s giddy with royalty
dad keeps his head down
Princess Suzanne and Princess Lynn chat up the queen mother.
Heavenly scent of tea. All eyes suddenly on Harry, with tears.
And the mother of the bride - sweet with pride.
Harry and Meghan —
the fairy tale begins now
with all its trials
Simplicity’s dress of true satin white, worn by Meghan Markle
of Canoga Park. Today dawns a royal flush, honey-pink.
Cultural shock for all in St. George’s Chapel.
preacher full throttle...
we believe he’s lost his brakes
...father’s banishment
The romantic amalgamation wins with stiff upper lips
and spirit’s preaching. Sans smelling salts for the queen —
a new age. Breaths relieved as the preacher ends his preach.
rolling eyes stop spin...
hand held fans push away air
...clearing all the heat
No runaway bride as young boys hold the train. The jet setters
off on their honeymoon, ready to take up the world’s stage, in love.
A diamond star sparkles in the night sky — the smiling,
Princess Diana of Wales.
And the queen mother whose called us to court
admires her grandmother’s tea cup set,
richly polished, overflowing with life.
familial tea —
our tribe shares with human race
united as one
...and they all live happily ever after
says the score of surreal fairy tales
6/3/2018
Alexis Y’s Fairy Tale Contest
Princess HIV/AIDS A-Speaking
"Mankind,You Know Me as HIV/AIDS..
With all due respect I really dont care about
your Philosophical Bla Bla Blas about Me..
Who does Man Say My Ancestors Are..
Leave that Crap To The Proud Lineage Of
Predators..
Edges Sharper Than The Most Couragious Of
Swords..
Deadly Teeth More Ferocious than The Fury Of
A Hundred Lions A-Gathered.."
"Hark! Hark!
Mankind Didst Compose an Ode To Glorify Me..
It was Thus Rendered by His and Her
Waists,A-Rolling..
Yet My Prowess and Strength To Farther Lands
is Yet Unsung..
I have killed Men The Number of A Dsert Sand
Dune and A-Half..
I am so Happy Mankind is yet this Ignorant on
Methods Of Exterminating Me..
Ha! Ha! Let's Sit and Take This Deep Throated
Laugh For It Enliven My Soul.."
"Why cant Man Heed My Several Warnings..
He Knows Full well That I am a Descendant of
Trouble..Why Cant Sleeping Plagues Lie...
I am also Sweet..Keep Off Me and Free you
Go..
Do Sterilize Sharp Iron Objects..
Unsafe Sex Seduces Me..I Warn,Keep a Faithful
Partner..
Be Sure Your and You Alone Use Those Barbing
and Cutting Equipments..
Have I Adviced On Blood Transfusion?
A ManFriend Of Mine Asked If I used
Mosquitoes As Agents..
I Left That To His Silly Brain To Answer and
Answer It did..
Man! Man! Man! Keep Off Me for I am A
Disciplined Dynamite.."
women that tip weigh ling needle to spin vicious circle
akin to puppy chasing her/his tail
or require digital scale,
at the extreme alt right registering heavy loads
whether young or old ought to appreciated
as waifer thin self starved as a rail,
instead they suffer unfair injustice
like a trapped quivering quail
thus this fatalistic, generic,
and holistic landlubber
wanted to point head lee
hammer home one secure
heterosexual bondage stronger than
omnipotent Marcy's Playground
weather beaten pail
Trent Reznor's sixty 9 inch rust free steel nail
into the coffin of bias
against bevy of beautiful babes
within the mind of this male,
who inherited genetic predisposition
for being average, hearty and hale
yet feel compassion for those engaged
in an ongoing with battle of the bulge,
hmm... perhaps hiding ample bosom
akin to milky sopping wet grail
or accepted unequivocally themselves
without envy of lithesome women,
who seem to possess flair with nary a flail
yet possess much love to avail,
and tis wise to love oneself unconditionally
despite premium aesthetics considered svelte
which mass media accentuates de facto spelt
definition of femininity aka runway models
donned in faux animal pelt
whose deliberate self exhibition
prompts madding crowd of man
to waggle tongue with slack jaws
as if ready to melt
or at instantaneous signal telepathically felt
drop drawers upon removing blackbelt.
Young ladies don’t cast your pearls before swine,
For their motives have many warning signs,
Cherish your beauty in everyway,
My darling sisters think twice before your so quick to lay,
Don’t become another statistic,
Remember your body is purely artistic,
Don’t sell your soul to a ravenous fool,
This is not just a promise, it is a lifelong tool,
Young princess, that’s who you really are,
Spare yourselves the unnecessary scars,
For out of the heart comes lies and deceit,
While you’re looking for love,
They are looking for fresh flesh to eat,
My angels, guard your treasure above all,
For at any moment you may slip up and fall,
Charm is deceptive and kisses from an enemy come with a price,
Don’t allow a void inside to become a blinded vice,
My darlings, saver your purity and youth,
Someday the right one will come to you with respect and truth,
Just be patient, and love yourself first,
Look above if you question your worth,
For a rose so beautiful and rare,
Has no idea what heaven has prepared.
By: Sabina Nicole
I.
On the right is Emily Bronte,
Bard of Yorkshire moor—
Her talented, tormented family
Wrote novels which still endure.
II.
On the left’s Christina Rossetti,
Who chastely did refuse
The goblin’s fruit of ecstasy;
Pre-Raphaelite recluse.
III.
In the center’s a filmy mirror,
Dusty-looking glass;
You rub it till it’s clearer
And see a skull-faced lass—
Yourself…at Requiem Mass.
(a quid pro quo plug for zaftig women)
women that tip weigh ling needle to spin vicious circle
akin to puppy chasing her/his tail
or require digital scale,
at the extreme alt right registering heavy
ba Jill 'en Jack knifed pail loads
whether young or old ought to be appreciated
not waifer thin self starved as a rail,
instead they suffer unfair injustice
like a trapped quivering quail
thus this fatalistic, generic,
and holistic landlubber
wanted to point head lee
hammer home one secure
heterosexual bondage stronger than
omnipotent Marcy's Playground
weather beaten pail
Trent Reznor's sixty 9 inch rust free steel nail
into the coffin of bias
against bevy of beautiful babes
within the mind of this male,
who inherited genetic predisposition
for being average, hearty and hale
yet feel compassion for those engaged
in an ongoing with battle of the bulge,
hmm... perhaps hiding ample bosom
akin to milky sopping wet grail
or accepted unequivocally themselves
without envy of lithesome women,
who seem to possess flair with nary a flail
yet possess much love to avail,
and tis wise to love oneself unconditionally
despite premium aesthetics considered svelte
which mass media accentuates de facto spelt
definition of femininity aka runway models
donned in faux animal pelt
whose deliberate self exhibition
prompts madding crowd of man
to waggle tongue with slack jaws
as if ready to melt
or at instantaneous signal telepathically felt
drop drawers upon removing blackbelt.
In a land, in a time of a present day,
live the princesses of a forgotten castle,
that has been thrown away.
It is always 940,
that is what they say.
We will beg to differ in any way.
We are the women who are mothers, sisters, friends, and lovers.
We are the one's that are trapped,
and under all others.
We have been thrown in a cage,
and locked up.
Not even the sound of a clock...tick tock, tick tock.
We are scared, we are hungry, and we are tired.
But, they don't care and they don't even hide it.
The princesses here are no longer happy and free,
and I won't pretend this is the life you want to lead.
We cry,
but pretend we are fine.
We smile,
but inside we are dying.
Inside all the facts,
none of them untrue.
All told by the prisoners of 940,
who used to be princesses too.
His
Twinkling
Kiss hisses
How he will miss
princesses when homeward tiredly he plods.
We see his sweetest farewell kiss; so I'll,
Letting them kiss
As they wish,
Gently
Pass.
Picture 2
Syllable Count: 1, 2, 3, 4, 10 - 10, 4, 3, 2, 1 http://www.howmanysyllables.com
*3rd Place* in the following contest (judged on Oct. 1, 2020)
Sept. 21, 2020
Double Tetractys 3 Poetry Contest
Contest Sponsor: Eve Roper
I will be the princess of the dynasty
The princess of the corkscrew
The princess of the underwear drawer
There is a lot of laughter
Sybil does not understand the others.
She is not amused or laughing
She gets out her tarot cards and her runes.
Begins plotting the spells that will transmogrify the others
Angel among Princesses
Yes she was there always
Pretending to mind in all ways
Without minding what it takes
She sacrifices all she gets
To ensure that, after all he makes it
Yes, she is a an angel among princesses
Those flowers God planted for us
Those which prefer to wither and give others life
Those that don’t care about their well being but for others
Those flowers always giving shade to others
Yes they exist, I have known them, I have seen and met and I have them
Yes, she is a an angel among princesses
Yes I tried to escape since the journey seemed long and tiresome
I thought I was being harassed, pressed and stretched for no reason
I forgot; stretch a rubber band and it becomes useful
She stretched me in the process of making me new
I swear will never leave her side I have to live
To shine for her, shine in her and make her shine
Yes, she is a an angel among princesses
She gave up everything for me, her family life and friends
A tear is what I will never make her shed
Her happiness will be my passion
Her success will be my goal
Her presence be my driver
More so for her will I be living
Yes, she is a an angel among princesses
By Waweru Ngugi
The smooth floor.
The melody playing.
My heels.
The beauty.
The man of my dreams, right in front of me.
Does he see me no..
The best friend next to me holds my hand. We wait for the news.
It's me.
I am the princess.
You cant tear me down.
NOW BOW DOWN U FOOL!
Tall red and pink-tipped spears reach for the nothing-at-all blue sky, all washed out with sunshine. The tight wrapped buds of the hollyhocks are too high for us to reach, but Imogen can. You and I wait for her to bring them down. Here behind the flowers, no one can see us. It’s hot. Your mother calls us in to dinner but beckons us first inside, past the bright kitchen doorway on into the dark dining room. We form a small circle behind her as she points to the thermometer on the wall- 112 degrees it says! I stay there trying to see if it will spurt out the top like it does in Popeye, but it won't do it and I've gotta go eat. Well then, goodbye!
Us kids didn’t notice the heat. Every day is warm in summer and we were busy in our shady corner. The best thing was the hollyhocks themselves. One of you, maybe you, maybe Imogen, showed me a big red blossom with a dark pink bud threaded at an angle onto its stem. A fairy tale princess! She was beautiful. I was aghast. Picking flowers! I looked around to see where your mother was. But you went right on, picking more flowers, more buds. I finally picked some, too, being careful not to take too many and to stagger the harvest so the gaps wouldn’t show.
We admired one another’s flower ladies and when there were three or four for each of us, we had a party and the princesses swirled around in their reddish dresses, riding away to adventures and back again, adjusting headdresses, perhaps even exchanging heads for the occasion. We talked quietly but incessantly among ourselves, making conversation for our charges, inventing plots and actions. There was a stillness and an ongoingness about it like a French film, you know, the ones that have a single cello note played continuously. So began the letter to my dear cousin, Marguerite. She had been recounting stories about our ideal upbringing! As I recalled the scenes of childhood, I was not so sure.