Best Spinsters Poems
Graeae Witches of foul prophecy
share one oculus between three,
they take turns consigning
their eye of divining,
dreaded spinsters of destiny!
Categories:
spinsters, funny
Form:
Limerick
How could a man be so cruel, i was thinking at deep
How could one make her weep , i was thinking at deep
she was a spinster,,and it was all she made for her
The abiogenesis of emotions never grew as she met a sycophant
It was all abnegated as she was a shrew,
While he was a taciture with a misogynistic heart
She was all fastidious but he always had a belief
Nothing is much balefulI unless we are not eccentric
Unless we are ascetic holding the parasol
It is only then all sycophants would die
It is only then when spinsters would have their men
When there is no intestatement of a soul
Categories:
spinsters, age, anger, autumn, betrayal,
Form:
ABC
A poem l wrote after reading about the Toffee Maker in Cider with Rosie by Laurie Lee.
The Toffee Maker
Lonely forlorn the spinster be
spirit broken, fell to her knee
she prayed to God for companion true
the Blacksmith listened, and then he knew.
'Please send me a man' he heard her say
for passion did float upon his way
for in the belfry he chanced to hear
the lonely spinster's pain and fear.
So off he ran to look his best
his Sunday suit for her he dressed
'so marry ME' the Blacksmith said
'companion be and surely blessed'.
So to this day the stories told
two lonely hearts from book of old
A spinsters plea in church had led
The Blacksmith heard, and contented wed.
Categories:
spinsters, cute love, friendship, happiness,
Form:
Rhyme
Twenty-three metres. An elephant leap. Vast leg spasms and sporadic duties to a tiled polished floor. Fire formatting finishing frames. And a pyrolysis of a purple strand of hair in a sinkhole waging war with a little flea. Never let it be said that a dynamic IP address will come from work as adjectives are not noted for complacency and judgement is formed from ordered shelves of peas. Lining up on the many shelves. In tins. Exact. Numbered. 00100 or 100900.000 is no name. It is no honour. It is a code. That is no way to treat and grow a core. Essences remain in a cosmically fired whirl. And goblin spinsters whirl backwards in moonlit flames. Flamenco feet then. Cha cha cha. How charismatic and charming. Radioactive beans. Hahahaha firing papayas' is fun. Hahahaha left angled triangular prisms. Deliberation z
Categories:
spinsters, arabic, basketball,
Form:
This self evident truth that all men are created equal ?
Never quite able as to escape these questions which arrive
Time's comical in ludicrous exposes: today as yesterday imagining
Her high courts turning unto a constitution defining something or another....
Ever evolving his living breathing documents cross fire spatial skies skeleton keys rogue
Renegades watermark tinsel town, treason from their graves these founding fathers proclaim
Antartic circles western worlds mediums her causeway's english channel I see dead people a baby's
Sixth sense the headless horseman thirty shekels of silver his broken bell premonition sheol's starveling
Shepherd spyglass mechants totem pole slave ship shackles spindrift spinsters who framed this, your amendments.
Categories:
spinsters, analogy, love, metaphor, ,
Form:
It's like overhearing whispers
Above the rustle of fallen leaves and twigs
Breaking under two pairs of feet apiece
Of bachelors and spinsters
And remembering, it's the dead of winter
A mixing of elements. Go figure
You turn a pillow and sleep some more
But the beauty of it is that you lived
And dreams would have come before
People sitting under the shade of a tree
In the front yard, steadying hands
Over the flames of a sputtering fire
Swapping silent reminiscences
Over good times that could have been
But lost over wisps of nonsensical chatter
Brethren like thieves in the streets
In verbal subterfuge, flashing daggers
And hissing Judas pursing lips to make a kiss
Currents of had-I-knowns running deep
In the rivers of memories about the departed
When a log splits and makes a flare
You dare think it's because you stared
Unlike you, I wasn't there too, in the cabin
Not standing over a pan
But like you, I could also spin yarn
Tell the story of two mountain trout in the grease
Developing a crispy gold tan
And the girl, followed by the lugs
And, of course, hook nose
That hefty door of a man with a Greek name
And a sinister mane
Saying you should have stayed in your lane
Categories:
spinsters, rap,
Form:
Rhyme
We lived in the U.K as expats in a Tudor style home in Kent
It was a nice home but it had “a feel” about it I can’t explain
Not frightening or threatening at all
Just a different sense in the atmosphere “something strange”
My son a very brave boy who was never afraid of the dark
Told me “He didn’t like it upstairs in his bedroom sometimes it gave him a funny feeling”
As a child he also sensed something unknown in that house
His words sent a chill down my spine and hastened my breathing!!
One night while my husband and I were watching t.v downstairs
There was one almighty thud in our sons bedroom directly above
We raced upstairs thinking he’d fallen out of bed or over
To find him fast asleep tucked up nice and snug
An unexplainable happening that became a regular occurrence
One loud thud , our son asleep and nothing there
Unbelievably enough it wasn’t frightening
Again …Just a strange entity in the air!
This night at the base of stairs a movement caught my eye
In stunned silence we watched a female shaped shadow glide up the stairs
Disappearing out of sight when at the top
We found our son sleeping soundly and again nothing was there!
Initially, it was somewhat unnerving and there was definite unrest
My husband saw the shadow one more time then it was never seen again
As time passed life relaxed and continued as normal
Though I was interested in the houses history for a reason to explain?
So , apparently many years ago a family of five lived there
Strict parents and their three daughters forbidden to ever wed
All three sisters grew old and died as spinsters
One of them dying in that house it is said …..!
Categories:
spinsters, death, spiritual,
Form:
Rhyme
Bitter spinsters in their nighties
Wedding rings of bright pyrites
Unrequited youthful crushes
Unwise lusts, unwanted blushes
Teddies trapped in pink balloons
And endless loops of sickly tunes
In the garden, badly hidden
Garage roses on the midden
© Gail Foster 14th February 2017
Categories:
spinsters, emotions, love, lust, passion,
Form:
Rhyme
Standards Must Be Maintained
By Elton Camp
Many unworthy persons at Downton Abbey reside
Including insufferable snobs who are hard to abide
The earl can’t manage to keep the finances afloat
His countess, on an aristocratic title does dote
Lady Mary seems to bring the kiss of death to men
Which suitor would ever dare be around her again
An engagement to marry she rules a mistake
If some other prospect her libido does shake
Some, who to becomes her lovers have tried
In some horrible way we learn they have died
The younger daughters, spinsters will remain
So the estate new descendents cannot gain
“Crawley” is a name that describes them well
What the family is really like it seems to tell
The servants seem a bit better sort to me
Yet, many faults in them there are to see
Thomas can’t seem to keep his hands off men
Although it brings him trouble again & again
Bransom didn’t stick to driving of the car
Marrying a Crawley went lots too far
O’Brien is always plotting up some scheme
So she is seldom the person she does seem
Of the valets, cooks, maids and footmen
On them there is little need to begin
Carson is the only one at Downton who’s true
Who works hard and tells others what to do
Aristocratic standards he’ll always maintain
And from unseemly conduct is sure to refrain
Categories:
spinsters, angst, engagement,
Form:
Rhyme
Rumi was mistaken, they say
Rumi was misguided, they say
Rumi was a Kuffar, they say
What the hell do THEY know
Rumi was a scholar
Rumi was spirituality
Rumi was a Mystic
Rumi knew the way
the truth
the light
He knew now to stay sane
Not giving in to blind belief
to know God you must pray as
if you see him
Spin the Spinsters Dance
Dance your heart out
Rip it out and give it to God
Rumi Knew, he wasn't mistaken
Rumi was certainly NOT mis-
guided, Rumi was a believer
Rumi was right...
Categories:
spinsters, inspirationalurdu,
Form:
Ghazal
rough wooden background
light behind your laddered frame
woven bullrushes your seat
unbroken staunch stiff
what spinsters have you held tall
with locked knees and fallen heads
*5/7/7/5/7/7 one of two possible structures
Categories:
spinsters, angst, depression, introspection, life,
Form:
Choka
Boots buried deep in the ground
Boots concealed under mounds
Boots with shapes and restless frown
Boots marching underneath the ground
camouflaging the heat of a cruel folly.
Boots of young women and little children
Lay indefatigably under the troubled ground
Sealing the fate of the sparsely populated town.
Just before dawn I drifted in a fiery doze
I found myself at the foot of an unfamiliar hill surrounded
by numerous dwellings wrapped up in the company of unknown people .
I started digging in a garden encircled by a mysterious plot
Gardens that have been watered and well kept
Conceal dark secrets exposing shadows of death
Gardens pruned and overgrown packed with
Spinsters’ boots and children abandon in their youth.
Boots that flourished in spring; boots bearing woeful tides
Remain deep under the earth waiting to be unearthed.
I digged and digged deep down in the ground
And exhume a boot knee length long and another
a quarter foot long; I showed them to my daring neighbor
but neither of them had a rightful owner.
I suddenly appeared in a house at the foot of the hill
And a man of fine nature abruptly walked in,
He asked for buns, picked up some paper and said that he was
going to attend a meeting on top of the hill.
Yet the mystery remains a puzzle in numerous gardens in
A sparsely populated city on the outskirt of town.
©2014 Christine Phillips
Categories:
spinsters, angel, corruption, dream, flower,
Form:
Didactic
Barely weeks of seven of the orgy
Space crash of 117 people in a Bellview
Tragedy came knocking
This time harder with anger to
Ginger blood off its hunger
Unto the street of heaven came the commotion
On the Flyers descendant to the open
Field in the Rivers of Port-Harcourt
Emerge the Sosoliso Tsunami
Sixty future seeds of the Nation with
Fourty eight others including the Woman of God
Who churn out words for the Bachelors and Spinsters
Burnt into ashes as the Flyer caught fire with power
Before their very eyes they got burnt with
The Sosoliso bird of 1145 providing the
Shield to which the fire fired in Port-Harcourt
Parents of the future seeds of Ignatius Loyola Jesuit
Were garbed with the toga of helplessness
Other loved ones waiting at the open field
To receive them, had the cap of loneliness on
But for one survivor they had all perished
Burnt for their Negligence
Burnt for their palpable Levity
Burnt for their Greediness
To whom shall we point accusing
Finger of Sosoliso Tsunami?
Unto whose neck shall we hang
The blood of the Innocent lives of Bellview 117?
Unto whose head shall we heap all these
Garbage of calamity and catastrophe?
Who shall replace the three shinning
Future seeds of the Ilabor family?
Unto them that sold the People’s
Fliers for surplus value
Unto them at the top of the Rock
Who loot and siphon cowries meant for the People
Unto them I say ,Unto those who shirks their
Responsibilities and hang it on Private mediocres
Unto them whose insidious desire is to sell
Our land and the inhabitants
Unto them whose long throats and wicked eyes
Is driven only by profit
Unto them all who shall be burnt into
Ashes of Filthy history and memories
Alayande Stephen .T
14th of December,2005
11.23pm
For Victims of Bellview 117 and Sosoliso 108
Those that Nigerian Government sent on a
Mission impossible on air for their negligence
And looting galore in the Aviation Industry
Categories:
spinsters, confusion, death, children, loss,
Form:
treading tales of three o clock on the morning bow
Android alkaloid met a myriad of trees at a southern angle. Bacon tart it was not for a tart is touting and touting is not touring at the correct crossing angle. Beetle dropped the cake then did he? That was rather careless. Heirless forgotten female of the ninth cavern of the tribal transatlantic point. It is to be said that at this particular time writing is a painted pin. But a wandering foetal arch of an emperor is to bring an empire twice around the globe in a spin that resembles a pistol shooting with no trigger. Nevertheless a seemingly random question would be how many picked out places are placed in a minute? Horse goes boing at thus point and nods and neighs. Wandering wailing warring waiting wooden wildernesses. And a great big pile of books arriving through the postal service with a smiley faced man. Who gives the freedom to a weathered wand? And who exacts the tyrannical traits of trademarks and trade? It is to be in the innermost point of a turbaned head that aspires to gain knowledgeable truths regarding atoms, pinnacles, spinsters and a sewing machine loom. So to the sands now and the mild temperate little ocean wave with ten prawns yawning during chess games with the shells. Interesting that isnt it? Love to all lovely Li lively liveries. And the custard jam in that cupboard over there is neither a fruit stew, orange peel or a non ordered item on an extensive seafood menu. Hahaha menial meandering moody moose. Hahaha logo leering laughingly xxxxx combustible chart chats xxxxx alphanumeric z z z z at 20% of a note. Z
Categories:
spinsters, anniversary, assonance, basketball, bible,
Form:
‘Old women, in the autumn of our lives
may wear the smoke of fires in our hair
be mothers, spinsters, prostitutes or wives
and still have merry ribbons from the fair
sewn on our skirts, and in our corsets laced
and all around our hats, and stockings on
We may be old, and not so sweetly graced
by beauty now our summer days are gone
but autumn still has leaves upon her dress
and berries from her lips to spill, it’s just -
(although we have our secrets to confess)
Old women are the mistress of the lust
That used to master us.’ ‘Oh aye, you try’
That boy - his eyes are bluer than the sky
© Gail Foster 22nd September 2018
Categories:
spinsters, autumn, lust, passion, seasons,
Form:
Sonnet