Best Ritzy Poems
We grasp shadows flow over magenta light
in the crystal trails of tourmaline
yes, both of us will leave.
to the celestial abeyance of pasty white
neon embers in starburst trim
for now, I'll stoop and write.
Let's have a nap beneath the towering redwoods
we'll watch "forgets" fly with natural hammering
together, let's find out how to solve the mystery
lyrical hues in lustrous iridescence.
We just shrug our shoulders and cheerfully
understand our linked introspection
here, in the peaks, where the sun shines
let's soar with the creative spirit of life.
Blew away the flushed, blushing bliss
on her whispering wings
white fog rolls out onto the calm ocean
which gathers the incoming stillness
a phosphorescent steeple is adorned.
Strolling the fog-covered hills, gazing at the bay
let us sip moonbeams from the blazing lighthouse
sunlight swirled exotic zaffre mist in a ritzy haze
enjoying the warmth and the water shimmer
resting comfortably in a lovely night-line
Damselflies rose to the lush sky's eerie sighs
A hazy veil curves across huge terrains.
sunlight sparkles on the winding river
comfortable, long-drifting
to the whispering rouge
of a nuptial serenade
only time matters.
"There is time," she whispers
There will be plenty of time
Written: December 28, 2022
A Freed Verse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
I douse myself by melodious waves of music
As he maneuvers me into his gracefulness
Clasps of our hands draw my ebullience like magic
In ecstasy, feet slide to and fro to express
The pleasure at ritzy hall in ballroom delight
Huge array of lights shimmers on our gala dress
Oh, I am sheer brought to the crest of his limelight!
He sways me and turns, our balancing pays the price
Wearing my confidence in the spectator’s sight
I can feel every beat with his most sumptuous spice
His perfume wafting on air, I’m more than alive
Clutching back our body close, great passions arise
All in delighted spirit, convivial grace thrives
Ballroom dancing paints the beauty where love survives
Nov. 30, 2014 10.55 a.m
- In honor of Victor Gabriel Gilbert, a great painter and artist.
I like him so much and his masterpiece.
Imagining to dance with him in consummate ease:)
Seventh Place
Contest: Ballroom Delights
Judged: 12/16/2014
Sponsor: Poet Isiah Zerbst
My mother's hats were beautiful,
With feathers and flowers and such.
She cared for them so carefully,
Small hands must never touch.
She always wore a hat to town,
To church or to lady's tea.
None looked as lovely in a hat
As my mama did to me.
She perched it high upon the top
Of her beautiful auburn hair.
When she went strolling with my dad,
They made a handsome pair.
I never thought of modest Mother
As "Puttin on the Ritz".
Her hats were her one small vanity,
As Ritzy as it gets.
My mother's hats are hanging now,
Heirlooms on my bedroom wall.
I see them there and think of her,
The fairest of them all.
By: Joyce Johnson
8/8/15
In this arid plain of perennial drought,
as I stand transfixed with vexations rising in my spirit
and sadness lying mute as a stone,
I discern, I am alone with none to hold my hand
or share the burden that weighs me down.
Trudging through rugged paths
with my mournful shadow, tottering along,
the past sneers at me, breaking open
bottled up memories- of years spent in unbridled passion,
the smell of cigarettes, ganja and beer
wine and women, bet and gambling,
and the thrill of having won and lost
I used narcotic drugs many and they kept
gnawing into my psyche!
Once I walked with stilted gait
with friends and fans, amid laughter and haste
eager to please and to praise
Inebriated and effervescent were we
Fancied money could buy all we yearned
and turn this Earth-a virtual Paradise
But how swift was the twist of fate!
With no condiments, life suddenly turned bland.
The gorgeous castles I once built, burnt down to cinders
like dry leaves blown by the wind,
Friends, I thought never would desert,
flitted away one by one!
With dejection and despair warping me down
a rabid dog I strayed.
Grew irritable and vicious,
fled away from bond and bondage
spitting the saliva of my angst,I barked… barked at everyone;
“Where did vanish all the fabulous dreams
Whither gone life’s ritzy splendors?
But the wildfire burnt itself down,
now a passive stillness has settled in.
In this inert hush, as I grope,through murky corridors
with the sound of my footsteps falling like a thud,
a single query breaks out from within
‘Where shall I hide unseen
from this horrid loneliness staring me in the eyes?’
during cold season
coated with a snow blanket
winter ski spins fantasy
as far as eyes view
a vista of snow-clad slopes
a ritzy summer resort
Checked by HMS.COM - 5/7/7 - 5/7/7
Written: January 08, 2023
Winter Sedoka Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Charles Messina
I have a monster-in-law to be
She’s my boyfriend’s mommy
She forced her son to join the military
‘Til his gait was no longer like a lady
I’ve witnessed many times her monstrosity
She screams like having tantrums in a family
She brags my mom and aunt her dowry
She insists, she and her one only son like me
At home, she doesn’t like cat or puppy
She wants people to do all things perfectly
She criticizes her maid’s cleaning and laundry
As if, she’s chief of self-enforcing constabulary
She reminds me and her son to get marry
And wedding rite will be at ritzy hotel of their city
Whenever I suggest to have a simple reception or party
With her bulging eyes, she stares hard at me
I was quite scared and worry
When she said, we’ll stay with her til we’ve a baby
So, I talked to my Lieut. Lovadababee
To push through our plans in two years or three ;)
©2015Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
Sept. 27, 2015 9.25pm
-this was not entered in the contest... late in few minutes;) my second try of monorhymes. some are fictions;)
One dollar and eighty seven cents was hardly enough to buy
a Christmas present. Aside from the gold watch gifted to him
by his dad, that was all James and Della had. Della had long
blond hair that reached down to her knees. James would often
tease her by calling her Goldilocks. But she always reminded him
that she was more like Rapunzel.
Their neighbors, John and Dianne were quite wealthy.
However Dianne was battling cancer, and had lost all her hair.
On Christmas eve the two couples went shopping for gifts.
Della, desperate to buy a gift for James sold her hair to a ritzy
beauty salon. With the funds from that sale she bought James
a chain for his gold watch. Meanwhile, James sold his watch
and bought Della an assortment of beautiful combs and hair clips.
On Christmas morning the presents were opened. James was stunned
to find that Della had cut off all her hair. Della was shocked to learn
that James had sold his gold watch. John was quite pleased with
the gold watch Dianne got him. And she looked ravishing in the wig
of long blond hair John got her. One dollar and eighty seven cents
wasn't much at all, but the gift of love is priceless. Merry Christmas!
I was never born a poet
But a pauper standing on a pulpit
Penning words in spring tide dings
Ritzy scribbling like trundling rings
Talons of my feet
Seething grounds I scratch and leet
Feathers I preen and wag
Over my scruff I rip and gag
On rivers and wells I soak and dip
Shimming on reflections I gobble or sip
Over hills and cliffs I hover and skip
Your face I slip over my lip
"Poetry brought life to a dreamer as a penner
But why is life more important than poetry as a winner?"
(Prosebite)
At the foot of the mountain lies a wide verdant plain
With rich flowing breasts tend its enchanting brethren
A cuddly care that nature does, in collaboration with men
Catered to those gallant souls, nurturing the best it can
Every morning, when sunshine unfolds its resounding grace
Charming horses in auspicious race, dock their tails, all in graze
Glorious creatures they are when viewed near and afar
Precious stone-like muzzles adorned, each shines like ritzy car
Glossy fur is prominent, from withers, poll to forelock crane
The sophisticated look they have while galloping in any range
When the sun grows brighter in the middle of the day
Cowboys with their hats and chaps shout, hurray!
They run to check their rides before they saddle with glee
Patting stifle, gaskin, hock down to fetlock ‘though they’re jerky
Thorough inspection of hoof, coronet and frog they do and peek
And see if shoes are fixed, they’re good luck charms, shown in kicks
Stallions or mares, palomino, topaz… horses in any color and kind
Riding like a roller-coaster on their withers to their croup is so fine!
How I wish I can go with those cowboys in their pony-trekking
I want to be their horsewoman as they’ll be all my prince charming.
Oct. 17, 2016 1.40pm
Copyright2016Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
Ninth Place
Contest: Horses
Judged: 10/30/2016
Sponsor: Poet Shadow Hamilton
I have her nineteen fifties' Trifari
fine costume jewelry, which I hold dear,
since my sweet mom bequeathed it all to me;
when worn or touched, I feel her presence near.
The ritzy, sparkling rhinestone matching sets
showcased in satin-lined, faux leather case,
were treasured as high fashion; no regrets
when given as a gift of style and grace.
And too, are pearls embedded in bright gold
with settings of such intricate design.
I love to look at them, to fondle, hold
these precious pieces treasured now as mine.
I wear my mother's gems from time to time
and feel her basking in the lovely glow
that once adorned her beauty in its prime
and graced her loveliness in stylish show.
So I devotedly take tender care
of these Trifari gifts passed on to me;
her treasures shine with special love we share,
safeguarded through her cherished jewelry.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Old Jewelry or Just Old Things
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Judged: 11/06/2016
Since the1920s, Trifari has been one of the most respected and admired producers of costume jewelry in the United States. Founded in the1910s by Gustavo Trifari, the Italian-immigrant son of a Napoli goldsmith, the company has designed jewelry that’s been worn by countless high-profile clients, from Mamie Eisenhower to Madonna. Trifari costume jewelry is highly collectible today.
Hoity-Toity
La-Di-Da
existence desired
never able to obtain
the coveted lifestyle
high falutin pompous
arrogant attempts made
towards obtaining the
obscure illusive snooty
characteristics of the
desired social class
of the ritzy aristocract
sitting a top their thrown
looking down upon the lower
class of society
The greedy should not go,
Should not go to poetry parlour
Where words are intoxicating
Like ethanol in the vein.
There ritzy rhythms rival rhythms
In thrilling forms and fancies
Like wares for christmas sales
Arresting patrons’ attention with charm.
He that is greedy stay clear
Lest you suffer constipation
Only the contented can survive
The temptation of poetry parlour
He is just a super cook
Whose dishes often taste candy
His recipe measures to satiate
Burger king in the house.
To everyone he has the taste
His page provides for old and young
Who does not know here
That Russell pens for all ?
The high places
are where the rich and poor go
Venues where they congregate,
order the strong drink and rub the elbow
They come together,
no matter the social strata
The high place
is the place you wanna go
to take a toke or a sip ...
and do a little idol worship
At the high place,
they all come together ---
no matter the time, day or weather
To hear the gladiator cheers,
to hoist the whiskey and beers
To inebriate their personal fears
at concert halls or cosmopolitan malls,
ritzy cabarets or plush chateau getaways
Go to an immaculate high place,
if you wanna get dirty lowdown
Take a trip,
baby, to Las Vegas town
Walk the tourist strip,
sample the forbidden fruits all around
Visit a Dagon high place, if you dare ... just don't be there
when the walls come tumbling down
You used to have power over me
You used to have power over me
Seeing your face pleased
Was all that'd let my mind be
Jobs and relationships once so consistent
Loyalty and honesty have floated into the distance
Is it just aging
Doesn't seem like the world should be changing
In this direction
Droughts of affection with floods of computation
Robocop evaluates your ritzy neighborhood
Gangsters regain their territory in the hood
Always thought by now life would be a dream
World is a pair of pants ripping apart at the seams
Looking into a politicians eye
There's just a blood splattered lie
Why on earth should I vote
I'll just shop elsewhere and let your funding company die
I understand I look young,
You have no idea what I've done
Talk to me like an adult
Those gestures and expressions are an insult
Just because I have no child
Doesn't make my emotions mild
Doesn't mean I don't have problems
I don't whine, I find ways to solve them
Don't assume because I don't have a degree
That I'm not a pedigree
A degree means you can follow rules and deadlines
You can use a crayola and stay within the lines
Tap your head...
Think for a second
All this money later
Is this the best way to thank your creator?
To get a job for a major company
That sooner than later will dump you and destroy
Your dreams and want you to change your values
Where work is more important than family?
Not exactly!
Your doubt in me is coming out of your pours.
Flush your ego, Try to jump that hurdle of yours
Oh wait, need a book?
Flip to page nine
Tells you you've kicked your own behind
blooms
bouncy
baby’s breath
busy bee balm
ritzy rose, glitzy gloxinia
zany zinnia, dear ditzy daisy
swanky saffron
flouncy phlox
bonnie
buds