Quite on the hill. Faceless children run around by a cave who calls them in with a signal straight and gazed. Walking a concurrent line with a retinue firefly disperse into a dome with a small wooden house in the middle. The great white and yellow king nested in his throne of groveling worms. A human face he has popping his face it does with eyes and teeth spouting out in its secretion. Drenched upon the childrens missing faces seeping like a mask denude showing their missing faces. Memories brought back light now seen for now children have been free.
Two girls were in the country when they found
an eerie house with nothing else around.
They went inside and then knew right away
this was no house where they should ever stay.
Old, broken dolls were scattered everywhere.
But worse than that was what was living there.
It was a giant, ugly-looking man
who chased them while grunting. The poor girls ran.
He picked them up like toys and clutched them tight,
then tossed them all around. They felt such fright.
If they should scream, he’d throw them at a wall!
He’d feed them if they made no sound at all.
He held them both so roughly and he painted
their cheeks and lips with rouge. Their lives were tainted.
They realized that as dolls he meant to keep
them locked up in the dollhouse of the creep.
Oct. 17, 2022
for Tania Kitchin's 12-16 Lines Of A Scary Halloween Rhyme Poetry Contest
A dollhouse is a palace
to an angelic girl of four
O, let her live there forever
innocent of trap doors
The dollhouse was a gift from us
For Chanukah, one year.
Our grandkids played a lot with it
And that’s why it’s still here.
On Fridays, when we babysit
(Though mostly they’re in school)
I do a bit of straightening,
But just in minuscule.
For I like when the dollhouse
Has its furniture all neat
And every little figure’s
In a bed, a crib or seat.
I rarely find it that way
And the dolls might be misplaced
But I make it look the way
My childhood self would have embraced.
Ken’s chest cracked open.
He’s on the table thinking of his doll.
A heart pillow clutched to his chest.
Barbie’s lost it. The fridge on fritz.
Ken should have handled this mess.
A tiny phone with a coiled cord
and she dials him up. Mr. Fix it
to the rescue, has her and Midge
scurrying to find a tool. Healing
qualities, he almost loosens his stitches,
he’s proud. Almost bats his chest,
like Tarzan, King of the Jungle.
Humming comes from the kitchen,
making most things better.
Barbie waves to Ken, across the room.
10/20/2020
Picturesque and simple with sweet little windows,
Tidy guestrooms beside stylish bedrooms,
A kitchen straight out of a home catalog,
All contain inside plastic walls.
Blush, copper, teal walls leading to a bathroom,
Cobalt blue hibiscus designs on matching tea sets,
Coordinating furniture in every room.
Delicate and perfect from the roof to the garden.
Impeccable ideal home, a tangible version of home.
A grounded fantasy that profoundly consumes all,
Yearning to live in a dollhouse.
My love said to meet him at three
where steaks were the best that could be,
the chophouse.
I waited a long time and then
checked his firm before searching in
the courthouse.
Maybe drinks with clients for biz?
I checked a fav place for this, his
posh clubhouse.
Nothing, was he up to no good
somewhere no man does as he should -
the dollhouse?
There, I saw my beau kiss Miss Snow
so now he is found in Fido's
cold doghouse.
Our grandkids have a dollhouse,
A gift we did provide,
With furniture and little folk
To fill the rooms inside.
It's used a lot, quite lovingly,
Yet every time we come,
It all looks topsy-turvy,
Which defies my rule of thumb.
I take five minutes worth of time
To neaten up the place,
A task the long-lost child in me
Does readily embrace.
And once I'm done, I let it go;
My set-ups they may spurn,
But even if they mess them up,
At least I've had my turn!
They see you and they want you
They take you and then play with you
They move you and they use you
Then they get bored and leave you
They lie about you, they tell stories
They play the victim and have no worries
You’re the bad guy, cause you fought back
They break you and turn your soul black
In the end you’re broken and alone
Cause they already have a home
You turn back and keep quiet as a mouse
Just you ALONE in your empty dollhouse
My first grandchild was turning three,
sweet girl with a motherly bent.
The perfect present seemed to be
a dollhouse; so, shopping we went.
She found one not by accident -
real bells for the front and back door,
three stories, carpet on the floor
two-car garage, a three bedroom,
kitchen and bath. Who could want more?
Memories on the breeze presumed.
She had moved on, Kid's Kraft was done.
Trying to hide my discontent,
I asked, “What is wrong with this one?”
“It’s not real.” Not like home she meant;
her place, the five-room flat they rent.
The Little People caught her eye
"Here is my house," I heard her cry.
there's mom, dad and me, just like home."
With three dolls to boot, a good buy;
no chic decor, no polychrome.
written 1/30/2018
~Dollhouse~
(Sonnetina Rispetto)
I just love my pretty dollhouse
In it keep my dolls but no mouse
My dolls are so special to me
Some are very old but still nice
Many cost dear have high tag price
Clown dolls make me smile and glee
I just love my pretty dollhouse
In it keep my dolls, but no mouse
My dolls are really amazing
They're so cute, many smiles bring
My dolls are so special to me
Clown dolls make me smile and glee
I just love my pretty dollhouse
In it keep my dolls, but no mouse.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2011
February.09.2016
~Author's notes:
" The Sonnetina Rispetto" is a poetry style created by Dorian Petersen
Potter, aka ladydp2000, on September.08.2009.
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.