Best Savoir Faire Poems
Soon, sunlight will yawn on the edge of dawn
and I'll welcome the warmth of his morning rays,
but never could I liken them to the great love born
when I feel your sensuous touch that sets me ablaze.
Impatiently, I wait while my heart is yearning
for daylight's journey to cast shadows over me.
Restlessly, I watch the hands of the clock turning
until the hour when the sun surrenders into the sea.
When skies are awash with an amber glow
I become eager to touch the breast of twilight.
Watching as grains of sand in the hourglass flow,
knowing when comes the moon, dreams take flight.
A pearlescent gem, she lulls me to sleep
when gracefully ascending upon her throne.
It's then my reverie descends in slumber deep,
and ardor's silken threads are passionately sewn.
With our hearts ignited by a stellar flare,
we circled the moon on diaphanous wings.
In Luna's lair we made love with savoir-faire
while starlight dreams caressed my heartstrings.
It's no wonder impatience is mounting
before the moon rises to her zenith height.
Hours move much too slowly as I'm counting
the hours when I can touch the breast of twilight.
2022 Poetry Marathon - Mile 22 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Originally posted on 12/23/2019
Maple in red wears her mantle with ease,
Ravishing crown with geranium sheen.
Teasingly tossing her mane in the breeze,
Spring until autumn she's dressed like a queen!
Ravishing crown with geranium sheen,
Swishing in whispering florid attire,
Spring until autumn she's dressed like a queen,
Sunlight does kiss scarlet petals afire.
Swishing in whispering florid attire,
She's lofty, saucy and flaunts savoir-faire.
Sunlight does kiss scarlet petals afire,
Her pageantry fits her Majesty's flair!
She's lofty, saucy and flaunts savoir-faire,
Teasingly tossing her mane in the breeze,
Her pageantry fits her Majesty's flair,
Maple in red wears her mantle with ease.
Susan Ashley
July 15, 2017
In a store that sells antiques,
The past is much alive,
Including parts that we’d prefer
Did somehow not survive.
Some creepy dolls and ugly clothes
And jewelry I’d not wear
Forlornly grace the shelves without
Their one-time savoir faire.
But other items bring a smile
Or memory to bear –
A Popeye pin, some Beatles cards
And much Fiestaware.
Three typewriters with all their keys
Sit Royally encased
And lots of kitchen tools I wish
I never had replaced.
I troll the aisles quite aimlessly
For if you want the truth,
The only things I hope to find
Are traces of my youth.
Soon, sunlight will yawn on the edge of dawn
and I'll welcome the warmth of his morning rays,
but never could I liken them to the great love born
when I feel your sensuous touch that sets me ablaze.
Anxiously, I wait while my heart is yearning
for daylight's journey to cast shadows over me.
Restlessly, I watch the hands of the clock turning
until the hour when the sun surrenders into the sea.
When skies are awash with an amber glow
I become eager to touch the breast of twilight.
Watching as grains of sand in the hourglass flow,
knowing when comes the moon, dreams take flight.
A pearlescent gem, she lulls me to sleep
when gracefully ascending upon her throne.
It's then my reverie descends in slumber deep,
and ardor's silken threads are passionately sewn.
With our hearts ignited by a stellar flare,
we circled the moon on diaphanous wings.
In Luna's lair we made love with savoir-faire
while starlight dreams caressed my heartstrings.
Impatiently, I feel passion mounting
before the moon rises to her zenith height.
Hours move much too slowly as I'm counting
the hours when I can touch the breast of twilight.
*a repost
So sensationally super; Sagittarius son of John Spence
Pleasantly personable, and matriarch Maud Spence’s son
Enabling, exquisite, eloquent, evolving and enterprising
Naturally nice, no nonsense, and a nutritionist nobleman
Carrot consumer, constant comrade and cold-war veteran
Equitably enlightened, and just an elegant eggnog taster
Jumping Jupiter, a jubilant sundae lover, and just a jewel
Oppresso de liber, optimistically captivating; oratorical
Saintly passionate, succulent salmon sampler; sweetheart!
Exquisitely enchanting, enchantingly amatorious; éclat!
Playful, painstakingly passionate, pajama wearer, patient
Handsomely helpful handyman, harmonizer of happiness
Sweet as syrup, shining armor off the shelf; savoir-faire!
Red-blooded poetry connoisseur and radioactively lovable!
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Won Seventh Place Position
"Tell Me About You Contest"
June 16, 2010
Sponsored by Amy Green
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If you should hear him coming, fear his roar
His grizzled warnings, you should not ignore
A formidable champion is Ursus, a carnivore
His claws protects those he loves with vigour
He confidently stands on two powerful legs
to liberate the world from its deviant dregs
Quite beastly is his gnarly savoir-faire attitude
when in combat with the insolent and the rude
He'd prefer to live in harmony with c'est la vie,
thinking, That's life and what will be will be
But he will fight when needed... c'est la guerre
Off to war with courage, strides the Great Bear
With one arm held in check, he'll not be denied
the voice to rebuke those who abuse and deride
If blinded in one eye, he would never hold back
To defend those in need he would bravely attack
Lovely to know He is everywhere,
For love blooms anywhere He goes,
Answering every fervent prayer-
The source of endless rainbows!
Knowing just what to do and when,
Every single time, right on time;
So shadow flowers may recur again,
And fruit so blushes at its prime.
And creepers know whence to creep,
As bunnies hop in fields of summer;
And Mole knows if he's in too deep,
While each early follows latecomer.
He espies the trailing fireflies,
Glamourizing all the summer nights;
And hears the many fatigued cries,
Of songbirds on southern flights.
He created magic of midnight stars,
And the long slow dance of the moon;
Oversaw our reigns of ancient tsars,
And commanded shadows at high noon!
The thing about a scarf is that
I know just how to buy one
But I don’t do it often ‘cause
I’m clueless how to tie one.
My friends look chic and classy
With a scarf around their throats.
For hiding saggy skin like mine
That style gets all my votes.
A neck stays warm when breezes blow
If it is scarf-protected
And sometimes boring outfits,
With a scarf, can be corrected.
Yet somehow I have never learned
The skills that are required
To knot a scarf so that my neck’s
A place to be admired.
We’re either born with savoir-faire
And everyone can spot
That stylishness so cool and hip
Or else, like me, we’re not.
It’s a sound that can’t be spelt
A sound not uttered by the svelte
A sound like when your grandpa knelt
It’s worse with every year you’re dealt
A sound made rising from a chair
When pulling up your underwear
When climbing each successive stair
A sound devoid of savoir faire
This sound made by the elderly
Is commonplace; apparently
But lately this sound seems to be
A sound that emanates from me!
In crackled tintypes bent with long ago,
Amid flaxen sunset and skies of cherry—
In worn leather-carved ancient scenario,
He dare not lie in milkweed prairie.
He rides resolute toward that sweat-tinged fame,
Always the heart’s hero of our once young eye,
As pale ivory range sighs softly his name
And we all know the real reason why.
It is high sage country that he will ride,
As that tin sun burns alabaster away—
And new birthed rains roll off his cow rancher hide,
So his soft summer’s mirage will stay.
Some see him crude – of but limited worth—
Lacking pure knowledge or certain savoir-faire—
But born of bone plain, he is of no fool’s birth—
A force of nature that’s always there.
From coat’s patina past years slide, of course,
As lines are spurred so deep into his Sphinx face—
But he’d rather be poised high atop his horse
In no other country, time or place.
His heritage is long – it’s here he’ll die—
He rides his own land in cruel spring rains and snows—
And like that wax jacket, he’ll keep his hopes dry,
Because ranching is all that he knows.
"Mirror Image"
in the silent mirror a reflection of love stares
a glass figurine emoting radiance with savoir faire'.
a tender smile extends sweet thoughts to cherished hearts engraved
fashioned for Eternity to love on journey paved.
two lights illuminate to feed two souls once were starving
wallowing in Sun's warm glow while Destiny stood carving.
etching future memories lasting far beyond forever
complimenting in every way as words touched too deep to sever.
reflections often resonate both happiness and sorrow
yet, you remain my counterpart for each endless tomorrow.
from first breath to last we contemplate reflective view
believing in our "love story" prefacing with "I Love You".
*For Michael J. Falotico's "The Reflection Contest"
"in a tipsy frame of mind"
my pen point was swirling and twirling to be
on a romantic adventure so fun and fancy free
with a tipsy turn here and with savoir faire' there
escaping to the Poetry Palace swimming for a "pen-mate" mare.
lo! and behold! being drunk with emotion
my pen jumped a dive in word-infested ocean
it rolled and it stretched; back strokes, as it fetched
on it's clip, hung by hook, the word "love" was etched.
my pen was so excited as another invited
in a drunken stupor, would love be unrequited?
as the black and gold form grew all toasty and warm
came face to face as a SHARPIE did swarm.
the moral is simple: when the love bug soon soars
beware! of the SHARPIE whose inks bolder than yours!
*For Joann Grisetti's Drunken Pen 2 ...
Not sure if this would be consider taboo
To even mention the view
Did I just hear her say the word touche
When the doctor proceeded to do what she had to do
With stage crew and camara in hand
Filming what little dignity I have left
Are the tapes rolling, I may need consoling
When this crazy trip finds somewhere to land
Do I even need to mention the day before
Pills and laxatives by the score
To clean out my innards must be least 10 pounds thinner
Need I say anything anymore
Back to the uncomfortable crowd
You can hear a pin drop at the sound
For them it's routine, for me a dastardly deed
Could someone please send in the clowns
Adding a touch of savoir faire
Excuse me, is there enough room in there
If things get a bit tight make sure the pliers are sanitize
Anyone up for a game of truth or dare
Doesn't get anymore personal than this
Best friends now without even a kiss
Operation at 7 film at 11
To be viewed YouTube via Internet
#sayitisntso #didhejustgothere #doyouhavenodignity
Just had my Colonoscopy this morning...nothing like a good follow up poem!
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At midnight, he'll propose a toast
and raise to light a fluted glass,
as they gaze, muted, at their host
Though in his eye may sting a tear,
he knows theirs will stay dry, en masse,
as they ring in the coming year
That he alone bears witness to
this cheerless savoir-faire, is clear
but he's forgot (or never knew)
such camaraderie, at most,
is retrospect to spirits here,
where every guest is but a ghost...
At midnight, he'll propose a toast
that he alone bears witness to
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Why do socks seem to disappear?
I can’t find a matching pair!
Not wanting to develop a syndrome
When anyone comments on my odd flair,
I retort with apparent savoir faire:
Yes I’ve another pair jus’ like’em at ‘ome!