Flounces Poems

White Cupcake Girl

White cupcake girl was dressed up like a cake.
Her hair white as frosting, which she did not shake.
Her skirt looked like flounces, all white and round.
I knew that this girl must be heaven-bound.

Don'T

"I'm not a boy", my child announces.
"I've always been a girl."
And without hesitation I say
"That's wonderful!
I can curl you hair
and we'll plan a celebration 
with flounces and flair -
go shopping for a pretty dress.
I guess you'll need some makeup
and nail polish too..."
She said
"Don't try to make me just like you."

The Tango

wow! hot sizzling steps
flourishes and flounces
she is in chiffon
where did he get the tuxedo?
he was never this debonair or polished when we dated
I stare, mesmerized

Lucinda Is Ready To Party

Lucinda dressed up in her fanciest bluest most satiny dress.
It had flounces and ruffles, creases that gave her a caress.
She was in her party finery, sitting still, waiting for her guest.
Her collie, Labrador and Scotty dog gave barking a small rest.

They will be here any second, she assured her puppy friends.
The doggy brigade sat patiently, doing cartwheels and knee bends.
Lucinda was disappointed, for no humans appeared that day.
Each had an excuse about why they had to go away.

It’s those dogs, her mother said. No one wants to be around them.
Lucinda did not understand this, so she spoke to cousin Clem.
Your pups don’t like us, he told her. They only like one person – you.
No one wants to eat with dogs, it makes us nervous, Lu.

The Candy Charge

The pumpkin rolls eyes in the dark and bounces
along. It’s uncanny how candy flounces.
A boy in a hurry.
Sweet teeth, they should worry.
The dental charge - cavities by the ounces.

10/27/2022

Falling In Love With a Painting

Have you seen cards gone wild?
What is it?
An art show
No. Is it good? 
Is it ever!

I take my friend and she is enthralled.
Entranced, enthusiastic, excited.
I try to drag her out of there
But she has fallen for one of the paintings.
They are in love.

Good grief!
This is the third time this has happened to a friend.
I get a wheelbarrow, push her into it and try to drag her out.
She jumps out and runs right back to the painting.
I hate Bill for creating it.

There is something magical about it.
Something that hooks women.
Florescent colors of pink and green
Flounces of purples.
I stare, falling in love myself now.

Nyla Has Style

Nyla has a style all her own, she flings and flounces.
She whirls a truth others do not understand or know.
I am gob-smacked by her confidence and her determination

I know you do not get your flair from you mother, I say.
From where does this inner delight originate?
Nyla laughs that super nova laugh.

My grandmother was a Broadway star, she says.
She gets out photos, and we ooh and ahh over them.
I wish you could have known her, I tell her.

I do know her. She used to visit me in my dreams,
and she was my so-called imaginary friend when I was four.
What do you mean so-called?

My mother could not see her, so she called her that.
We used to laugh about it, grandma and me.

She Did This and She Did That

She did this and she did that 
I think she thought I think she thought
Do you have proof?  I ask.
She gets angry and pouts now.

Well she said this and she said that.
They said she said. 
They said she thought.
Have you asked her? I ask.

She flounces off in a huff.
I am sure I am her next subject.
Not that I care.

Self Centered Diabolical Scarlet O'Hara

Fiddle Dee Dee Scarlet says when asked to nap with the other girls
I want to party she argues, dancing with her feet, her hair in curls
She sneaks down to where the men are and takes Ashley off
Expressing her love which is rebuffed, she hears a man’s cough.

It is that renegade, Rhett Butler, who is a scoundrel and a scamp.
You are no gentleman sir she says, and flounces off in a stamp.
Rhett is immediately smitten, and decides to woo this little pretty.
The Yankees are coming, Civil War is taking a toll on Atlanta’s city.

Belle from the brothel gives money to Melanie for the troops.
Melanie is Ashley's wife; she, takes it with appreciation, no hoops.
Scarlet marries sister’s beau, Mr. Kennedy when she sees he is rich.
Scarlet is truly a conniving, self-centered, diabolical b……

Gone with the Wind has humor and laughter and heartache galore.
I would ask that you read it yourself before I spoil it by telling you more

Mystery Woman Under That Hat

Who is under that hat we wondered as she disembarked.
I had never seen such a contraption that was so not easily parked.
It was feathered and fluffed, with flounces that said United Nation. 
Had a mind of its own, this glorious concoction, fabulous creation. 

We could not see her face, but I knew she would be a famous someone.
Kind of a hat that would not be easily dissuaded. It turned to the sun.
Soaking up the rays at that bandstand, as we watched our children play.
I tried to see the woman’s face, but it was under a veil of lace that day.

She was a mystery woman, in the best hat we had ever seen in July.
It shaded her completely, as we watched fireworks in the sky.
She climbed back in her limo and was whisked away at midnight.
We waved to her and her glorious hat until they disappeared!

New Beginnings

N ow as I am gazing through the tunnel I see light
E ach day getting brighter before the darkness of the night
W ith spring around the corner she is bursting to ignite

B lossoms dressed in frills and flounces ready to display
E xquisite and excited for their very special day
G loriously adorned awaiting to impress
I s it nearly time they ask ~ for today they look their best
N ature has awakened from her annual winter slumber
N ew and vibrant hues they don now winters truly gone
I really love the spring time it’s my favourite time of year
N ow we truly need this boost for to banish all our fear
G ood news breaks as we begin to vaccinate the nation
S o happy to get our lives back ~ spring starts our celebration

Written 5th February 2021

Contest NEW BEGINNINGS
Sponsor John Hamilton
4TH PLACE

Contest ALL YOURS (Feb7)
Sponsor Brian Strand

This Gypsy With Bo-Ho

Her assorted sprinkled ethnicity
Delighted the maid named Felicity.
Romanian or Mexican? They’d guess.
She truly did not know, I must confess.

Abject beauty kept so many intrigued.
She could get us all the free food we’d need.
Eyes flashing with intelligence and mirth,
Swirling skirts and flounces that hid her girth,

She as a beauty, this gypsy with bo-ho.
We all were amazed, and many loved her so.
Gorgeous curls that kept men at leg’s length,
Her lined up suitors always a bit on the brink.

Easier To Keep My Elf On the Shelf

Joyful red, yellow, pink, orange, green, purple, silver and blue.
I am looking at the drops and dollops of beautiful paint, pretty too.
On my hands, lots of places, especially at the tip.
I am a messy painter, and I love the flounces and the flip.

I sometimes forget how much it sooths me, that is when I get sad.
I sometimes sit in a chair, playing word games for six hours.
That is when I get morose, and angry, and mean and mad.
I sometimes forget I am an outsider. I forget my flowers.

Word play is terrific, for it takes me into new worlds, 
But painting. Ah! That is where I truly find my little girl self.
The one who almost never painted, because I do not know why.
Maybe it was easier then to keep my elf soul on a shelf.

Maybe it was not okay yet to be me. I know I was sad.
Because I had not found painting or poetry, but now I am glad.
Staring at my colors, painting from August to September.
Feeling in touch with my soul self, exuberant when I remember…

I am a painter
A poet
A cartoonist
A creator
A gardener
And it is more than okay.

Mind the Wet Paint

I wonder what I’d find if I could decorate my mind 
a tiny peach plaster to heal the hurt of acts unkind 

There’d be lots of sunshine yellow swirls to brighten up the day
and numerous scraps of paper for poems that come my way

You won’t find frills and flounces, and barely any pink
I’m not a girly girly girl, no matter what folks think

My head’s filled with rainbow colours; they keep the blues at bay
with my silly sense of humour, I know the smiles are here to stay

There’ll be lots of kitchen roll for tears of laughter that spill
‘One sheet is plenty’ grrr that darn advert makes me ill!

A palette filled with memories, some happy some sad
I repeat myself, I repeat myself - it drives my hubby mad!

Be careful if you lift the lid, as the paint is fresh and wet
Keeps my brain from atrophying like concrete that has set

FUN POEM FOR CONTEST

Mind the wet paint contest
Sponsored by Viv Wigley
3/21/18

Woman Pouring Water

(after a drawing by Ghirlandaio)

We see that it was dashed off in a trice,
without a trace of reticence or nerve.
The contrapposto thigh, the shoulder’s curve,
are perfect. Nothing wasted.  All precise.
And yet it has the power to entice,
with just a hint of maidenly reserve;
vitality and vigour, volatile verve,
it offers us a glimpse of paradise!

There’s movement in the stillness.  Chimes unheard,
the breeze, unseen, that’s ruffling the flounces,
are ghosts in the machine: thus Vergil’s Word,
the gentle kiss of gesso, makes, announces
the life that’s in those folds and clefts and flourishes.
The Word’s made flesh - and what it strokes, it nourishes.

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