Many,many a years ago;
Along the oceans billow
In an admixed susurrance blow
And unraveling the twilight shadow
A lone valiant bard lies-
Been there till the sand dries
And listened by the ocean's cries-
And slept by the shore of ocean's eyes
Many,many a years before;
By the time of tulips hoar
I heard a lutenist lore
To whom he played for
A lady called Anabel-
To whom his heart fell
To a lady named Anabel-
Yet far he couldn't tell
Many,many a bygone days;
On a day of summers haze
And the glistening twilight blaze
A maiden danced upon a rolling hays
Lulls and she lulls with a gilded lyre
O' her eyes of brilliant sapphire
Lo thither a flame or a fire
To be fair and be fairer; her attire
Many,many a time agone;
He sang a dirge all alone
To her,those mournful tone
Wilt the corsage once she own
And he sang a dirge at bleary noon
Smelt the freesia,whitish as moon
Quoth he,'await me I'll come soon
await me I'll come soon'
I’m being shrilly
Because silly Billy
Dilly-dallied
With Tilly’s chili,
Then willy-nilly
Forgot the
corsage lily
For the dance,
Now no chance
For silly Billy
To twilly-twilly
Piccadilly with me!
Florist Gerald, who lived with his mother,
In corsage became killer Camilla.
As never the bride,
Errant men he handtied,
And with spray of cyanide, he did smother.
Next time around I will be six foot eight
I will play basketball, and I will be great
Next time around I will be born in a city
I will have confidence, not care if I’m pretty
Next time around I will not care what people think
My own opinions will keep my joy in the pink
Next time around I will be a star with an entourage.
People will lavish me with bouquets and a corsage.
Asleep not, my muse begins to trot,
Evoking whispers of willow
In my memorial mirage.
Asleep not, my concern is hot.
It has nothing to pillow
But your cold corsage.
Solely awake solely in wait
Whether affectional arrears
Find the atonement too late
To recoup your stray tears.
Half desirous half in despair
How my wistful heart dithers
When into thin air
Years of attendance withers.
Two fifteen-year-olds stood in a dark hotel parking lot.
Laughing teenagers passed with their dates, to their cars.
The pair stood, awaiting her parents -
she, in a shiny, pink, satin dress, a corsage,
and a gold chain tracing a meandering path on her smooth neck,
he, in a crazy tuxedo,
and a strange garment - a cummerbund.
Earlier, clumsily, unnerved, and threatened by a huge concentration
of alien creatures, that is, fellow teenagers,
he had tried to navigate a new kind of obstacle course,
at one point, emulating something called a dance.
Her curves gracefully undulated,
stretching the fabric of her dress.
He hadn't talked much that night.
Now, in the dark, away from the crowd,
he spoke,
placing his hands around her waist,
and feeling, through slippery fabric,
something entirely new,
wonderful and real.
A flattened rose mumbles
An old cracked button chuckles
Tickled by a 2nd place ribbon
In the corner a tattered doll weeps
Comically consoled by a one-eyed bear
Ballet slippers long for a pointed toe
A dried corsage sits inside a dusty tiara
A leather-bound diploma shouts success
A tear stained letter sorrow
For joy and sadness are but fleeting moments
Imbedded in the soul of ephemera
Teen Earth Angel:Collaboration:Panagiota Romios and Beryl Edmonds
Teen Earth Angel
The warm, bubbling, thrills of my cherished first date
So innocent, so sparkling soft, is the kind hand of fate
Up at dawn to caress, my new shoes of patent leather
My feet felt no floor, for I was a teen angel with feathers.
My feathers took flight that first precious date night
It truly turned out to be love at first sight.
Still, after years of angelic married bliss
I recall magic moments of our first kiss.
In the very bottom drawer of my golden vanity
An etched crystal box, sparkles as the sea.
Petals of a rose corsage, worn on a once teen wrist.
Scents, that make my cheeks, a gloriouus
amethyst.
Love for you is pure as the day it was born
Though my feathers have become tattered and worn.
At sound of your voice my heart accelerates
It takes me back to that fantastic first date.
***
Written - 28th February 2024
The warm, bubbling, thrills of my cherished first date
So innocent, so sparkling soft, is the kind hand of fate
Up at dawn to caress, my new shoes of patent leather
My feet felt no floor, for I was a teen angel with feathers.
My feathers took flight that first precious date night
It truly turned out to be love at first sight
Still, after years of angelic married bliss
I recall magic moments of our first kiss.
In the very bottom drawer of my golden vanity
An etched crystal box, sparkles as the sea
Petals of a rose corsage, worn on a once teen wrist
Scents, that make my cheeks, a gloriouus
amethyst.
Love for you is pure as the day it was born
Though my feathers have become tattered and worn.
At sound of your voice my heart accelerates
It takes me back to that fantastic first date.
For those who lack conviction
Aspirations stay but a mirage
And for those crafting mountains from mole hills
Detriment a deadly barrage
Believers of strange eyes upon them
Flaunt shame as a wristed corsage
And without the courage to soften their hackles
Lie confined in their mind's dank garage
Jongleurs of fabled failures
Treat their worry to massage
Subjecting the rest of their dreadful days
To vexation's entourage
Clever inventors of futuristic fear
Paste pictures to a specious collage
And blame the world around them
Imaginary Sabotage
Seems like only yesterday,
when I wore a white cap and gown. I was a very excited five year old,
it was my kindergarten graduation.
I was sick as a dog,
after crying until I could not breathe~mom said I could go.
The group diploma pictures were taken,
it was back home and back to bed feeling so sick.
I missed the party~I missed all the fun,
that made me really sad.
The years went by,
I had another chance to get it right.
A blue and white flower corsage I did wear,
school colors made me proud.
A night filled with family and friends,
for all to see what I had done.
Happy tears did fall,
as the next chapter in my life was about to start.
This time I was not missing the party,
cutting my big cake brought me much joy.
Date Written: 3/3/2023
Note: True story.
The toy box made of plywood painted white
my grandfather built for me when I was three
has become a time machine
a tool of torture
Why haven’t I burned its contents to ash
as I did all his letters full of lies?
Within I find notebooks in which I penned
my pubescent musings that seem so silly now
First attempts at poetry
that sound trite today when read
with a much more mature tongue
that has tasted the bitter brew of experience
Scribbled quotations from history’s finest minds
Sketches of dresses I designed
A crumbling corsage of carnations
still sealed inside its plastic shell
for the last twenty five years
that he pinned to my pink Victorian taffeta gown
I can close my eyes and recall
its fresh flowery scent
feel the silky petals under my fingertips
the gentle cool early autumn breeze
blowing over the river on my young supple skin
that single night of my life
when every star in the sky
seemed to be shining solely for me
I had hope then
A sweet young lassie from Estonia
Was besought by a boy from Bologna
Taking her to a dance,
He wore his best pants
And gave her a corsage of begonia.
written September 1, 2021
You were discovered inside a white Bible on a summers day
brown as a dead hen with a chicken neck
crumbling too, brittle, all your water gone
oh Grandma what is it? I had to think for a second.
you are a reminder of a time when I was not anyone's grandma
I saw you sneering at me and I smiled with affection.
you were the first flower I had not gotten from Daddy and Mommy.
I will keep you safely inside this Bible forever my love.
Remembering how nervous was the boy who handed you to me.
ROSE
fragrant
summer bloom
the corsage she wore
on the night of our prom
was baby's breath and roses
"a blushing bride's wedding bouquet"
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.