DARK DOWRY
Disappear
The imperfections of mortality
Your soft sensuality
neglected, resurrected
Who was there
To help you arrange
Your dark dowry
Sleeping on the mantle's wing
Awaiting your return
The debutante ball
So dark
Day will never enter
Dreams will never leave
Q: Who is the current Chief of Staff?
A: The resident President.
Q: What is an old, lame, deaf, half-blind Sherlock Holmes?
A: A defective detective.
Q: Who is the magician who ate all the pasta when no one was looking?
A: The linguini Houdini.
Q: What is a day in the life depiction of the First Family on view in the rotunda of the White House?
A: An Obama diorama.
Q: What is a doctor who operates on a big fish to remove the roe?
A: A sturgeon surgeon.
Q: What disease did the star of "Veep" get from drinking unbottled water when she was in India?
A: Julia Louis-Dreyfus typhus.
Q: What is a debutante dance for snakes, alligators, etc.?
A: A reptilian cotillion.
Q: How do people in third-world countries view America's "open door" policy?
A: As an immigration invitation.
Q: Selfridge's was a fine example of what kind of department store?
A: A Victorian emporium.
Q: Where would you be if you found yourself trapped between this world and another?
A: In dimension suspension.
Arrival of fall, rustling of leaves
Strangers walking down the alley
Far reaches from the city grounds
A girl, a charmer arrived in the fall
The planet on its tiptoes danced 16 times
To welcome new chapters in her life
In the trouvaille, I found a friend in a stranger
A friend I never knew I needed,
In my journey to love myself
The courage flowed like river from her words
Her aura that outshines moonlight
In longing of someone, she counts the stars
A hidden sadness behind the beaming smile
A hidden pain behind those eyes
In her happiness, the gunnen rises on me
Went through ups and down
She always fought the demons in her mind
A figure who loves “tea”, to be debutante in her prime
Have friends like poison ivy
But she knows how to live life
***********
Dancing with shadows in my room, dispels all
specters of gloom.
I envision the young Panagiota,in tulle ballet gown.
Bowing gracefully to her audience.
Oh, my how she made young men swoon.
At sixteen,lovely, nervous, her ballgown of sequins,
satin, lace and white.
Bowing to an audience, holding long scarlet stem roses,
on her special debutante night.
Years later, I see her learning belly dancing in Greek town,
on a lit stage.
"Always do something new"' was engraved on the top of her
lfe’s daily, exciting page!
She could never be still and sit quietly on any chair!
If a dance floor were ready..you can count in it, Panagiota's
feet imnediatelly would be there.
Between dancing, for Panagiota, there is always soul-love!
So sacred, so intimate, so unique..
Her heart rhythmic, yet soft as a young turtle dove's.
11/1/2024 Poem 3
Walk like a cat
Dress like a
Debutante.
fresh faced like a sixteen-year-old debutante
Audrey Hepburn, brought My Fair Lady to life
I wanted her to marry Freddy
only disappointment of her work
not her fault
stupid writers
Springtime, you always arrive so gently,
as high school proms bring tears of friends
who know they must soon part.
I will try not to weep of fifty-six years ago,
as I see the vision of my siblings,
and I leap through sprinklers bright
with rainbows,
I promise, Spring,
I won't cry.
Spring sonata of the bird's songs,
as I recall the natural wall of hydrangea
blossoms of mint and powder blue in
our backyard.
Royal young roses so blushed on
the white trellis.
The Good Humor truck jingled down
the street.
Neighbor's children waved large wands
with giant iridescent bubbles floating
aloft to the envy of the cumulus clouds.
Oh, springtide, you're our lively maiden
with a honeysuckle crown.
The presence of your rising moon monarch
in the eve casting her silver cherish on
weeping willows.
You sail through the ages,
but remain a debutante emerging from
the gray of winter's waning.
I promised springtime, I wouldn't cry,
but my tears are healing.
I dreamily walk by the modest little
home on the sidewalk,
the beloved place,
the streets of my youth,
spring sonata of my heart's song.
I'm in no need of my walker-
as I'm a child again. ~
See Saw, Margery Daw,
Marguerite - a pearl of a name…
stateswoman, socialite, singer?
No, a servant, soldier, and spy.
Could she be a latent
Margaret Thatcher?
No she's clearly a servant,
a nurse to prisoners of war.
Margarita, clearly a picture,
which brings to mind a debutante?
No, she's clearly a "soldier"
a POW herself soon enough.
Marguerite/a Musical,
does she dream of singing?
No, she's clearly a spy; In 1946
she received the Medal of Freedom.
She was the subject of the movie,
The Great Raid in 2005;
and she shared her story
in an autobiography - Miss U.
See Saw, Margery Daw,
Meet Margaret Utinsky
a pearl in Manila, World War 2
a Pearl of the Orient.
Premiere of Persimmon Pureblood
Pennsylvania’s premiere debutante
prettier than a Parisian parasol
persnickety and powdery
poufy, perfumed, perfectly petite
Persimmon practiced her pirouette
pleats parading petals in a perfect circle
Rite of Passage
Ebon skin debutante
contemplating spring’s arrival,
counting blossom petals.
Jubilant Johnny Jump Up runs all over town
But what about Debutante Julie Jump Down?
She lands on horses and cows and such.
Would re-directing her be too much?
If she were to also jump up along with Johnny
Would that infuriate his lovely wife named Connie?
They used to have a running feud, these unhappy two.
Getting them to agree would be a coup.
Are you on board on helping me redirect Julie Jump Down?
I think we can catch her; she is on this side of town.
Uh-oh here is Connie and she looks mean and sour.
She is one hag I never want to make dour.
My apologies to the horses and cows and such.
But I think redirecting Julie might be too much.
I want to stay on the good side of terrible Connie.
So, I am not going to mention Julie or Johnny.
Her hands don't feel like satin,
she's been working since she was a child.
Never was a pure white angel,
she was always a little wild.
She can fight like a man,
but loves like a woman.
Some people say she's a blessing,
others say she was a bad omen.
Never was suited,
for the debutante ball,
She liked the honky tonks
or a smokey pool hall.
She had to learn too early,
how to throw a punch,
the only girl child,
And the meanest one of the bunch.
She has been hurt and mistreated
from the very start.
But somehow she managed,
to keep a good heart.
Still holds faith
that there's some good in this world.
And there's a place, in a heart,
for a tomboy girl.
The magic of mimosa meandered,
In her mystical mind and on the mirror.
Mesmerizing moments of men!
With mannish kindness they kissed her hands
and dainty, debutante fingers
Masculine too, having merciful manners
Musicality and poetry, a mighty mix.
The moon shed musical tunes midst the mimosa.
Moving down sweet memoir’s corridors.
To waltz, in mighty halls, with golden etched walls.
12/4/2022
A dreaming-to-be-blonde brunette
Psychologically caught in a drag net,
Her forced-upon nickname “You Cant!”
And she’d wished she were a debutante!
The further-taunted-about-her-sibilant
And mannish manners, not mildly militant…
Then, one day they started their plant
And she mindlessly took up a chant
At breathlessness out classing the ant,
Even as peaked never did pant,
Finally paralyzing her disbelieving aunt
And by a half music-promoting Gant,
Who could still his left hand move for The Grant…
A big shame to those who at Rita rant
For being the-good-for-nothing,
Often wanna be startin ‘somethin’
And A Rat Never-Do-Well
Wanting to The Cat bell…
Finally, A Rat bells The Cat
And instantly enemies lose fat!
On the sun walkway
a lush young lady flower,
debutante in spring...
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