Dame Poems

Quasi-Quasimodo

Searching the smoking ruins
of Notre-Dame cathedral,
on the Paris Île de la Cité,
one of the finest examples medieval
of French Gothic architecture,
with flying buttresses, a rib vault,
immense bells,
enormous colourful rose windows
all of which went through hell
during the fearful fire of 2019,
and it was seen
he'd been through the wringer
when looking for Quasimodo
they found a dead ringer

Notre Dame Bells

It tolls eighty eight, times to symbolize that someone has died .It wasn’t the ordinary man in the street or the man that frequently disrupt the people’s heart beat; it wasn’t the fellow down the road or the man tending to sheep up the road, it was the man that wore the papacy cap and

This Dame No Longer Believes Reverse

This Dame no longer believes in luck
even my existence doesn’t make it real
I’m the spitting image of prosperity
still she doesn’t believe.. not at all
sitting here wishing for another time 
another day another melancholy face
what turned your brandy bitter 
what turned all those dreams sober
eyes that would always roll the dice 
that inner light has become

Name, Dame, Shame

       Even in the nude – 
 
 Imogene   Bertha   Gertrude – 

     Bad vibes today, dude

Silken Splendor of the Lovely Dame

Luminous lids lift, languidly unveiling vistas of vibrant verse, as lavish laughter lines lips that lure with lyricism.

Sultry syllables swirl, a sweet serenade that saturates the senses, summoning sonnets that soar on solar winds.

Gentle gestures glide, a gracious gamut of elegance, as each delicate digit dances, dripping with dignified demeanor.

Fiery fervor flashes, a fervent fusion

Dame Tamer

Someone had called him the Dame Tamer.
Rugged good looks made him no shamer.
	Alone, he wore a pink rose
	and a gold ring through his nose.
His close friends knew him as a flamer.

Dame Bllame Game

when with much anguish
you will find what you do wish
in liter languish

head had hit the roof
up Trump always sure to goof
need burden of proof

Trump would play a game
why me would anyone blame
disturbed by a dame

Grande Dame

Got my cigar, got my guitar 
My thinking spot is never far
On the bench, sunset in view
The western sky is painted you
In colors of the pastel type
My love for you reveals no hype
I fingerpick a favorite song
This one is Bluebird, it's not too long
Just long enough for me to play
And send the melody out your

Whar Art Thou Dame of My Dream

Whar art thou dame of my dream?

Eagerness readily overtakes me prior 
to succumbing to nightly slumber. 

Tis boot a blink when eyelids become relaxed 
adrift abed invariably occurs counting backwards  
from one hundred – a simple sleep aid technique  
to usher deep and profound submersion 
into subconscious state.   

Once transition from

A Surfing Dame

She stood on the ironing board frame
Where waves of clothes she’d tame
She surfed on thoughts high
Inside the barrel green room a dame
Landing on the blue waves she did fly!

14.7.22
A LImerick Poem

Crying Shame For Crying Name

A crying shame 
To fetch oneself a crying name 
From regularized dirty game 
Choosing to not be The Tame,
Forgetting where from we came 
Good and Evil treating as same; 
The soul damning for fame 
And oneself ceaselessly blame 
The Once – Pretty, Shriveled Dame 
Having chosen to be the Spiritual Lame 
To paradise laying not

Notre Dame Du Bois Joli

En route avec le Seigneur on l'a suit
Aucun regret
Parmis la forêt
Mes pionniers
Vous avez bien trouvés
Lesson d'amour
Au secours
Apprendre à partagé
Vous avez bien semés
Dieu retrouve en moi
Choix de sa foix
Au temps du respect
Une jeunesse imparfaite
Mon Dieu je te demande pardon
Merci de vos leçons
Plus de souffrance
Viens on danse
Tu te rapproche
Au fait des roches
Du village petit
L'épiphanie

Dame In Distress

Out on a calm day, wind would gust she didn’t know
She was in distress when it swirled up her kimono.

December 2, 2021
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Sponsor : L Milton Hankins

A Love Dream At the Beach

On a summer day I saw a pretty dame
bathing in the warm waves of the beach's tub.
She tanned her skin to adorn her slim frame,
massaging its softness with each gentle rub.
From that distance, she exuded sweet fragrance
stemming from the refining of her radiance.
Sensual movements from lips, hips, curves, legs and hands
made me fantasize as I

Norwegian Dame

if my voice could breath sweet melody
and loom across the ancient sea
shall crimson lips breath thy last goodbye
northern winds shall carry sweet reply

unto a gloomy grave thus thine fled
the Norwegian Theresa I vow to wed
and thou I be in dreadful loneliness
leap from the ocean tide in hopelessness

many the days thy face appears
hidden in a moist

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