Best Tiaras Poems
"12 Days of Christmas Craves"
On the twelfth day of Christmas
My true love sent to me
12 twinkling tiaras
Eleven emerald elephants
Ten Tiffany trinkets
Nine naughty negligees
Eight echoing elves
Seven sequined stars
Six sexy singers
Five fake fingernails s s s
Four furry foxes
Three tingling tamborines
Two turtledoves
And peach tree in pail via e-mails s s s.
*For P.D.'S 12 Days of Christmas.
*Written by: Linda-Marie "Sweetheart".
Is there a junkyard for old tiaras and outdated ball gowns?
Where does Beauty go when age has taken her crown?
Removed atop her head and passed onto the new,
smiling gracefully her rein is over her chapter is through.
The walkway has shortened the stage has reached its end
her audience abandoned her, few remembering her when.
Beauty dissolved in creases and folds.
faded pictures tell numerous stories of desires untold
lost sapphires, rubies, diamonds and lace
torn denim, short skirts and selfies have taken their place.
Roses soon wither fallen off of her pole.
Tower high stilettos now traded have soft flattened soles.
Waken one day unable to recognize this new face.
Searching for the old one but never finding a trace
of that person who was familiar, and she once knew
who was young and beautiful, without even trying to.
Haunted by yester years with memories complete.
when she held love’s attention and men fell at her feet
Commanding the room as she swung and swayed,
Beauty was immeasurable but there was a debt to be paid.
New beauty surrounds her with past souvenirs.
Reminders of time ago and broken-down years
now she’s invisible as she dissipates in the background,
with a crooked tiara and wearing last year’s ball gown.
Parols
wrapped in gold ,
adorn a church
like tiaras forming
Starlight
Blessings
flame lanterns,
kindling year's dreams
as Manger Babe ushers
Christmas!
Dr. Ram Mehta's Cingku Poem: 2/3/4/6/2
by nette onclaud
11/11/2014
I live in North East Florida
That's just a hop, skip, and a jump
From the land known as Georgia
Where "Honey Boo Boo" once held court with her mom
If'n you never knew "Honey Boo Boo"
You're in for a treat or more than one
She was a multi car train wreak
That you couldn't turn your bugged eyes away from
First let me explain the state of Georgia
So this family ya'll will understand
Not long ago they re-dirted both paved roads
Said progress was getting way out of hand
So with that said and done son
With formalities out of the way
Lets turn our attention back to our star attraction
And see what all she had to say
Her fame started out on Toddlers & Tiaras
Reality shows we all seem to love
From The Crazed Housewives to The Kardashion's
America can not get enough
And since it's on T.V. it's gotta be true
Did you ever try her drink sensation
Of Red Bull and Mountain Dew, she liked to call "Go Go Juice"
It'll put hair on your derriere for extra pad in relaxation
And who wouldn't want to see a six year old
With that kind of Hellacious Buzz
What went through my mind when I looked at it was
Ahhh, Redneck Motherly Love
So now do you redneckonize her
Where all I just said is quite true
A dolla used to make her holla!
I sure miss "Honey Boo Boo" on the Boob Tube
As I'm sure all of you do too...
Today, Heaven made its wings out of the clouds,
and it's raining on people with angels and flowers,
The sun is red like a bashful child,
and the field is filled with poppy flowers dancing in the breeze.
A ray, wanting to be chicer,
has associated discreet with a daisy,
because both had the same thought;
to be tiaras for those on earth.
The trees are dressed in fresh green,
A spring wind, whistles a ballade for panpipes,
The birds gather in choirs and chirp a new song.
It's May, and I am happy!
Every night I dance with the stars,
I'm thinking of Eternal Spring,
A drop of Heaven smoothly dripped into my soul,
Ah, how beautiful the month of May is!
Tippy toeing across the desert sand cracked Cement stepping stone road
We venture towards The blooming onion bonfire that Rises like a medusa’s hair in a galaxy fueled by the heat of a dying star
The raindrops roll down my china doll cheeks
Makes my hair glisten like candlelight hope diamonds
And the rain washes away my feelings of self loathing
This weathered couch so lonesome in a field of curious horses
Seats sociable strangers Intoxicated with vodka mixers and self pride
Under an umbrella a polish model speaks broken English poetry Cuddling into my side instinctively she acted sisterly
My body was their hurricane shelter and my arms kept them from harm
He slid in on the ancient couch to seek momentarily comfort from the soaking tsunami
Faded........floating on a wave of intoxicated insta-friendships that we made only in our kindergarten years
when we wore tiaras and over sized dresses wide eyed and gaped toothless
Imagining what greatness would become of us Superheros and Princesses
The bass of the stereos fueled masculine desires for destruction
They tossed the grandfather couch into the flames and became a beaming beacon of light in all the darkness the smoke spiraled as the fires creeping fingers consumed the skeletal remains of the chesterfield.
Twas cremated at the early hour of dusk
University was just the eclipse in our eye lids
Life is a wayward hurricane NASA plane emblazoning on a rainbow runway
spin yourself faster than a ballerina collapsing into the tutu frill.... brighter than a lantern fueled by essence of a thousand swarming fireflies
Our naiive youth is but the past, we left it behind in this catacomb laid to rest
Untainted by society
Unknowing of the years to come
Not caring what we wear,
How we look or who our friend are.
Running in circles,
Chasing our tails.
We all had that special friend
The no one could see
Invisible to everyone but us
Now we float on a wave of intoxicated insta-friendships
That we made only in our kindergarten years.
When we wore tiaras and over sized dresses wide eyed and gaped toothless
Imagining what greatness would become of us Superheros and Princesses
Helplessly happy without rhyme or reason.
'''''''''''''""""~~~"""""""""""""""
as daylight flows on floors of meadows’ weave
like tiny fingers silent in silk of sailing traces
this landscape travels on her fragile, hushed heave
and when full morn speaks in syllables of pink laces,
i climb her flights of smiles to touch those tender graces
just a glance of champagne cheeks through her secret seat
makes hours sink in seconds breathing psalms of time’s aces
then i’d go deep for a pageant of your tulips upon my feet
as i hide snuffed sighs claiming eyes that await my reply
of a love as pure dawn giving wings to flowers’ poised paces,
the treasures in my chest are not tiaras or diamonds sold high
this, my rimless devotion will plant years gold with praises
your comfort in blaze of thunder, i’ll gladly give raw braces
a lifetime of caress to guide our lanes pastoral and wild we’d greet,
savoring flute, butterflies and giggling shells on winds’ embraces
then i’d swoon for a pageant of your tulips upon my feet
have i grown weeds in yarns of time, answer not yet said?
a flick of hope blows on this my airborne soul for returned praises
oh, my waters entice me as potpourri of my lady’s rhymes are fed,
when she stalls, then crawls on wanderings of night’s mazes
her quiet flush textured with pleas of patience on moon’s faces,
this silence has many altars adorned by veils of her sun and sleet
still, i stay with serenades to dust her feathers too shy for chases
then i’d swoon for a pageant of your tulips upon my feet
the absence of her eloquence jail me in chapels’ clumped vases
till she, lady of my velvet dreams, lit my passion’s fond heat
our hands shall wander unto rhapsody of faraway places
then i’d swoon for a pageant of your tulips upon my feet!
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Approach yonder rack, O fearful
Meretrix;
Wouldst here weak flesh reform
Beneath the buckled and tightening
Strap...
That which be transfixed by thy
Fearful gaze.
Lo...A confusion befalls upon thee,
My Meretrix,
Your whirling emoitions trapped
Inside encroaching walls,
Floundering within neurons confines,
Of a brains inwardly collapsing maze!
As throughout these crowded
Corridors
Of your hectic and turbulent mind...
You reach...
And grasping,
Desperately grope for your senses
Like some wretched entity
suddenly and Inextricably struck
Blind!
Laid down on this cold slab of
Submission;
Slowly to be freed from all moral
Restraints;
To be joined to me through subjection
Of attrition.
Just as thee burgeoning weight of thy
Guilt
Compress upon all diminishing
Resistance -
So then the growing appetites for
Mine deeds
Become thine indulging subsistence.
For I will accord you the wealth of a
Mighty nation
Such as any sprawling empire has
Ever seen.
Lift you higher above any royal and
Regal station;
Lavish upon you with precious gems
And encrusted tiaras...
Taken from the fairest head of wise
Solomons
Most beautiful and loveliest queen.
And I will serenade you with a song
From whales,
A lullaby from dolphins sing:-
Drawn from the chants of silky haired
Sirens tales
Whose treacherous wiles pollute upon
An ocean wind.
Hear ye, Meretrix, the mermaid
Blowing upon the Conch shell,
Her broad fluke thrashing between
The spray:-
For none that linger shall live to tell -
Once their foolish ears are led
Horribly astray!
I shall grant thee eagles wings
So you may climb and soar
Above all the fragile worlds of puny
Men;
These Neanderthals and ignorant
Apes,
Whom all thee sneering Gods so
Much deplore,
Wallowing in avarice and filth of
Lowest denizen...
Whilst slowly sinking into this foul
And stinking mire
Forever and for evermore!
Plasmana, the vampirette
was invited to the annual ball
by Count Shevesky who was
handsome and six-feet tall.
It was held in his castle high
where vultures flew nearby
eyeing the guests with beady eyes
waiting for someone to die.
Women and their escorts dressed in finery
as they stepped out of their horse-drawn carriages,
the ball was a romantic setting for single ladies
who dreamed of rich and lasting marriages.
The ballroom was full of waltzing dancers,
women wearing tiaras or crowns,
swept away with their charming partners
as their silk slippers peeked under their gowns.
When Plasmana entered the ballroom near,
the music stopped and not a hush
was heard from the attendees,
her exotic beauty turned the men into mush.
After some time the music continued,
men kept staring at Plasmana the beauty,
all wanting to propose and love her forever,
overcome by a mesmerizing duty.
Count Shevesky stepped forward
and gently took her black-gloved arm,
he too was engulfed with her sensual looks,
and totally smitten by her charm.
They danced all night and he was hypnotized
by her penetrating dark and beauteous eyes
as he held her tightly he dreamed she was his wife,
totally worshipping this woman not knowing her guise.
The clock in the grand hallway struck midnight,
Plasmana's face was stricken with fear as
she fled from the arms of the Count so suddenly,
running as if a hunter chasing a deer.
Empty arms and no Plasmana, the Count chased
after her through the massive front doors,
only to discover her empty gown on the ground,
and a vampire bat flying towards the moors.
Each year when the ball is held in the autumn,
Count Shevesky looks longingly at the front door
for Plasmana the most exquisite woman he ever knew,
wanting to capture her essence once more.
Red roses shimmer,
dewdrop tiaras glistening--
bathed in morning sun.
ALesiach © 05/22/2016
Escapee garments
Strewn hither and yon
Some still hanging from the drawers
Where neatly they were folded
Only hours before
She parades the halls
And kitchen floor
Her catwalk, she the queen
And just since eating breakfast
It is outfit number seventeen
Next comes the swimsuit part of the show
Soon will be the gowns
Glittering tiaras, feather boas
Hot pink shoes…much too big;
Look out, she’s falling down
Gales of wonderful laughter
That only children can manage
Picking herself up gracefully and strewing ribbons after
Off she goes back down the hall;
The castle further to ravage.
Standing on a ridge a sight can be seen. The kettles were choosing a queen. Bouquets were bought for the waters within. For waters will want wonderful and wonderful it was. The chosen kettle was a marvel. Complete with glowing sides and clear too. Captivating when boiling as the bubbles could be seen. But when cleaning was required it was time for the little wire brush to trot over to the kettle. Insert itself then move around to clear the debris. WOW. Look how it sparkles. Amazing isn't it?
But a bored baboon can only be made to smile through sipping a cup of banana juice, kissing trees, and playing ping pong with the dainty pig who was also rather fed up at this moment in time as the apples were not falling from the trees and that was a travesty.
Oh go and play a game of noughts and crosses in a shoe then. And definitely play monopoly in a chest of drawers. It is irrelevant the scores given to twenty over sized marbles in a washing machine. Scores should only ever be awarded to skittles. And skittles skate so when the pond is icy always put skating boots on them.
To outsmart a heron with a bunch of melons and some keys is to kiss over ninety frogs at a ball. But attending a ball has to be the most single important factor on a calendar card for a pineapple whose hair stood out from the rest in lovely green spikes. But lemons never wear such head dresses for they prefer triangular tiaras and triangular tiaras are neither tepid training turtle-neck tulips and neither are they tigers talking to timbers. Timber-frames are most thwarted at the tango but woods can waltz most admirably. Positioned palettes pirouetting.
And never forget to keep an eye on the Pyrex dish for Pyrex dishes can be filled with a vast array of produce and arrays of produce are mainly understood to be as vibrant as a colourful garden windmill. Spinning in a breeze then. Good. Creamy coleslaw calming carrots creatively creating canopies. Pea wisdom in a skirt skimming the stones into the lake from the shore holding the umbrella and a picnic basket.
WOW
Curtain chop on a tight rope.
Z Wunderpus photogenicus Z
At thirty six flies zooming on a lawn to 18 garlands of flowers in a florist.
There were ripples of the sparkling stream.
The crystalline water was mirroring the blue sky.
That befriended with the sun’s wonderful beam.
Beams of the dazzling looking golden eye.
The background was overflowing with mountains.
Mountains with snowcapped peaks,
Their attainment of such exquisiteness is a real arcane.
What is it above the sky that they seek?
The eagles were gloating about their wings.
O! How marvelous they were to glance upon!
Thrushes flew above the river as they sing.
Grazing on the grassland was a cluster of fawn.
There I saw the elderly yet strong fisherman.
Flinging his lure in an elegant technique.
Attracting catfish and trout as much as he can,
While sitting on the boulder beside the flowing creek.
The loveliness of the lotus was luring me,
Positioned silently on the cerulean water.
The white arrowhead was charming as she could be,
Her petals were diminutive as they always were.
Far away, I saw a grandiose tall tower.
Its peak was reaching for the high heavens.
He stood there taking delight over his power,
Amazed all travelers every now and then.
The heavens above exposed a band of colors.
Little time, after the floating dark skies cried.
I then assumed that our life is filled with squalors.
But don’t worry because later they are all bright.
After the drizzle, dews sat calmly on the grasses.
Scarcely and leisurely moving towards the ground,
The sunlight coalesces with the dew with tender caress.
How luxurious they looked wearing the golden crown!
The children played alongside the river in pleasure.
Girls were collecting flowers to make tiaras and garlands,
While boys were skipping stones on the tranquil water
Their little footprints placed themselves on the loose sands.
And I was assembled comfortably on the greens.
Beside flowed the river without paying any notice.
It cleansed all of my hopelessness and spleen.
Therefore I slept on the nature’s lap with internal peace…
It matters not she said.
What we do.
No one cares.
I picked a snail off the sidewalk and hid it in the grass
knowing the four-year-old might smash it.
No one listens, she said.
No one cares.
I don’t matter.
I knew she was fishing, but I was tired of playing this game.
It is a cyclical conversation she has with everyone.
I took her daughter’s hand and we began to skip.
Stacy giggled, delighted.
I try to give her as much joy as I can.
Understanding what living with her mother must be like.
We stopped to make dandelion tiaras.
I brushed her hair and she leaned over and kissed me.
Her mother rolled her eyes. Why can’t you be serious? She asked.
Did she not realize that we were actually doing things that matter.
While all she is doing is talking about the opposite things?