Best Romantical Poems
Cowboyin' seems so romantical as seen in th' pitcher shows.
Ain't a lick uv truth in that as ever' workin' cowpoke knows.
Movie stars is paid big bucks with a fancy saddle fer thar horse,
An' always ride off into th' sunset with a purty gal, uv course!
Real cowpokes don't wear designer jeans er fancy rhinestone suits.
You can tell a real buckaroo by th' looks uv his scruffy boots!
He's rousted out uv his bunk at th' break uv day;
(Seems it wuz jes' an hour er so ago, since he'd hit th' hay!)
He ain't got no time to strum a git'tar an' croon to a purty gal.
You'll usually find him ropin' an' a-sweatin' in a hot corral.
More'n likely them big stars lunch on caviar at th' country club,
While a cowpuncher eats beans an' bacon fer his daily grub!
In them western movies, handsome dudes ride tall in th' saddle.
A cowpoke has bowlegs frum years ridin' his cayuse astraddle.
Stunt men are handy to take th' falls fer fragile movie stars,
But a cowboy has to rough it an' can prove it by his scars!
When day is done th' movie cowboy goes home to his plush chalet.
A workin' cowboy goes to his humble bunkhouse at th' end uv day.
Cowpokes wonder why they cowboy - it shore ain't fer th' pay,
But they'll keep on a-ropin' and a-ridin' til they're old an' gray!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Music to my ears, so mellifluous
is the nightingale's song, ambiguous,
Give ear to her notes, they float on the breeze,
swirling through the air, they're tuned to appease;
I dance to her song, so mellifluous,
She's sitting somewhere, inconspicuous,
Her aria drifts down and I’m entranced,
In the stillness, her whistling sounds enhanced;
I hear her melody, mellifluous,
and I forget all my cares, strenuous,
Lost in her lilt, feeling romantical,
All I needed was Nature's canticle;
Such mellifluous strains, simply classic,
I hear the voice of God in her music.
09.18.2021
For Constance La France's ""M" contest, new poems only"
Poetry is something I do not understand
Words my soul reads and instantly recognizes,
Leaping about in joy, yelling "let's try to do that!"
words tossed in a way I never could
romantical and metaphoric
charming, delightful, or frightful
Poetry is not something I do,
it is something I aspire to learn
as I write verse
I write verse
Pretending it is poetry
hoping no one will call me out.
Sometimes I throw in end rhymes
Hoping to fool those who do not see what I do
That poetry is impossible for most of us
who smoke and mirror our way through,
being the greatest pretenders of all.
I will write the funniest poem of all time.
Sorry. It has already been done.
I will write the most romantical poem of all time.
Ditto.
I will write the craziest poem of all time.
Have you ever heard of Shel Silverstein?
I will write the rhyme-iest poem of all time.
Dr. Seuss?
I will write what I know.
And it will not have to be an “ist” at all.
It will not have to be the most, the funniest, the sorriest, the saddest, the sweetest.
It can just be what it is.
And it does not have to become famous.
It does not have to be understood.
It does not have to be appreciated.
But it will have to be my own.
Because it has to be the poem
That only I can write.
I sit and stare at the
Paper, overwhelmed.
Excited, expectant,
Waiting for her birth.
Wondering where she will take me.
I pick up the pen and begin. Knowing nothing about what is about to happen.
Glorious words,
romantic missives,
Unused obscure
edifying words
created, or
used in fantastically
beautiful ways
by
lexiconic guru,
and vocabulary maestro.
Intimidating
most of us.
Me anyway.
I do not know these fancy words.
Never thought I would need them.
Not sure I even write poetry.
I pour my feelings onto a page
Only using
simple every day
common words
These words I recognize
quickly and with feeling
Street-friendly words
make sense to me.
There might be
thousands of
better words I could use.
Gloriously, edifying
romantical type words,
But for me,
I have to use
Simple, every day
words I am comfortable
using.
Because my eyes
are so over-used
already, I do not
think they can
take any more
romantical, edifying,
glorifying, fancy-dancy words.
Not today anyway.
Where did all the romance go?
That once was so long ago
That special kind so honest, fresh and innocent
Expressions from the heart of what is really meant
Let me point out a boy in particular then
That other someone from way back when
He was very athletic and really sweet
He lived close by, just down the street
Here are some of his qualities
That seemed so romantical to me
Like calling the local radio station
To play a special song dedication
Knowing he didn’t have very long
He ran over to dance with me to the song
And all those nights he climbed that tree
Up to my bedroom window to visit with me
Inspired with competition like winning a race
To let everyone know he would be first place
He really did run track and with every ribbon won
He gave them all to me with his deepest affection
Some of you may already know
That I must be referring to Joe
He was the one most romantical
So where did all the romance go?
These days no longer see it here
Is it lost or hiding inside somewhere?
I tend to think the boy inside will always know
He feels the romance just no longer lets it show
If happiness starts with one’s self with in
Finding true love should have some romancing
True love and devotion does exist I know
Except the actual process can be slow
Especially with romance lack – sooooo
Just where did all the romance go?
Our time on earth is very quick
Are you waiting to get hit with a happy stick?
So from reminiscing about the yesteryear lad
Please don’t lose that romantic nature you once had
You will find out that it’s not so bad
And even discover you are more than glad
So listen to your inner self and be like Joe
And please don’t let all the romance go
Florence McMillian (Flo)
Chill shadow fall covering gray
Spark ember glow in the distance
Field reverberate muffled bray
Soft cool silk silent ambience
Earthward lonesome darken path lay
Veil on penchant earth's fluorescence
Two romantical waltz their way
Full laughter and lost innocence
Whereas a billion stars astray
Soft cool silk silent ambience
3/29/2020
STANDING ON THE COOL WET SAND,
STARING, HONED INTO THE DISTANCE.
MOONLIT SKY INVITES ME TO WADE AND DANCE,
TAKE A DEEP BREATH IN, TAKE A CHANCE,
TO SAMBA WITH ITS OCEANIC PARTNER,
SIMULATING, TITILLATING,
A WET ROMANCE.
CONSUMMED BY THE TIDES,
CONTROL-LING TO THE MIND,
I CAN'T FEEL MY EMOTIONS,
JUST HOPING, AS I BEGIN TO YEARN,
WHEN WILL THEY RETURN???
THE WAVES INVITING,
SAY FOLLOW THEIR LEAD,
AS I PANT AND RAVE, SPEEDILY,
ENGULFED BY THEIR TRIMBLE, ROMANTICAL-LY.
THE STARS APPLAUD MY MOVEMENT,
EACH AND EVERY STRIDE,
SHINING BRIGHTER, FOREVERMORE,
AS I DANCE ALONG THE SHORE,
NUMB ALL OVER,
UNABLE TO FEEL MY WET TOES.
The stars and leaves twinkled with eager anticipation.
Ethereal enchanted night was dazzled by the plan.
Thrilled that the wedding of the century was happening.
The romantical union of lovely Moon and her suiter, Sun.
Where will they honeymoon? A newcomer faerie queried.
The fey village filled with giggles at her naïve question.
One kiss a day is all they get, a wise elf whispered.
It is all the time they have daily, a soothsayer said.
It is enough, the moon thought, as she listened beyond the clouds.
The sun agreed, loving that it was finally their wedding day.
Twilight tuned the landscape into a splendiferous rainbow.
The wedding of the century was about to commence.
And what a kiss!
Everyone said how gentle the mayor's daughter was,
Desiere' was a romantical woman, kind and refined.
I tried to get to know her, but there was a teensy bit of fuzz.
On her fancy pink dress, and she began to grouse and whine.
Who brought it in? She demanded, smoothing out her satin.
Someone pointed to me and said, “Probably that Latin.”
I thought it was rude, but not as rude as she.
For at that second she began throwing carnations at me.
Pardon me Mistress Satin Sue I said, but a baby pup is on your head.
She gave me an aloof look that most distinctly and clearly said,
“Leave me alone, you ingrate. Shovel yourself under the garden shed.”
I was intrigued and excited, for she is notoriously fine, quite well-bred.
Her satin gowns are a luxurious shade, rich in shadows, elegant too.
Haughty like her, expensive for sure. I stood downhill and gave a coo.
Fine, this woman of means, holding a rose under springtime dew.
Put into my place by her arrogant look. She is elegant, Miss Satin Sue.
She moved in a manner that swept romantical notions into the air.
Her formidable spirit showed she had no worries, not a single care.
Her bouffant hair was her pup, snoring in her pretty hair.
She gave me an obvious stuck-up, condescending stare.
Her pup began to stir, and she gave me a half ass smile.
So maybe her mother side dials her haughty back on the dial.
Could we ever become friends, this Virtue of Stuck Up-ness and me?
Frankly, this is not a scenario that I can ever truly see.
Soulmate oak trees with curly branches
grew next to each other, in the Kentucky meadow.
Communicating through squirrel squeaks
Bird beeps, and the whistle of the wind
through their well-formed branches.
They uplifted each other
enjoying their golden moments
as well as their unique love story.
The optimistic meadow rejoiced with them
in the fall spinning around them in ambers and oranges
announcing the forthcoming coolness of winter
when Jack Frost would surround them in sparkly, shiny diamond whites.
A romantical, yearning, young cattail revered the soulmate oaks
I wish I had a love like those two, she said with a long drawn out sigh.
The equally romantic cattail to her left gave her a gentle kiss.
You do now, he assured her, you do now.
Supercalafragalisticexpialadoshus...
A nonsensical, romantical made up word they said.
Umbrella to ground the Lady comes down to check
The handy Voice....
super she said,
a laugh.ing ragalia!
on her head.list of
icepixals, crystals
and dos! gosh! but
hush ... what does
SHE know. She
drives an umbrella...anyway...
I guess you could say
they're nice pix.alls, all
the same.
Properly...
Regalia is Latin plurale tantum for
the privileges and the insignia characteristic of a
Sovereign. ;)
Supercalafragalisticexpialadoshus...
... either that or it means
Super.Gal.leo.has gone in.sane.again...
with her gal.i.Legos...
Let's go with Regalia ...
it would make for a better tale where a girl
might get a price if a frog doesn't eat her leggs off first. :)
~ Just a joke of course.
~ She's got Legos.
under the moon on a balmy night
I discovered another child who liked to play
our adults were busy, being romantical
so, it was just the two of us
we giggled and laughed about our similarities
and we laughed about our parents
who had “fallen in love”
My mother was always falling in love
The other child told me that his daddy never had.
Maybe once before, but he was not sure
We spent an hour or more under the moon
Listening to the ocean waves, enjoying the warm breeze
As our parents became younger and more giggly
falling in love
Mine for the sixth or seventh time
His daddy maybe for the first time
Wishing you and yours
a magical day
a fantastical flute
a paisley bandana
an owl with a hoot
Yearning in cosmic dreams
a mystical forest
a well-endowed fairy
an empathetic pixie
brown cow from a dairy
Being delicate and wistful
on this heavenly path
to your angels be true
sainted in renown places
Honoring your loved ones, especially you
Believing in your dreams and your significant hopes
loving make believe stories
endowing your family with life at her best
living your romantical truth
a marvelous, magical test