Crown of gold curls in rainbow wrappers.
Girly-girl, at two, favored to be beautiful.
Eyelids delight to be painted baby-girl green.
Dolly’s lascivious lashes soaked in black ink.
Innocent strawberries dot baby-blue sleeveless top.
Soon, she’ll be strapless, primping at the vanity.
For now, she holds a mirror with her eyes closed;
her reflection not quite perfected; a natural blush
of lips, cherub-cheeks and baby-fat skin. Shedding
the green, pink, yellow rollers with angel hair bouncing
off her shoulders, and rolling out the hourglass figure
with a perfect pout and hips that shout ‘look at me.’
Indeed, at two years old, she looks in the mirror,
smiles, as her mother approves, and daddy sits
in his easy chair, not knowing to be bothered by
the impending storm of unsuitable guys at the door.
The sky is marvellous tonight, it’s fraught
with possibilities of windswept cliffs.
It’s dark out here in space, but just a thought -
heavenly bodies found in hieroglyphs.
And yet, the stars are far and few between,
as feared. Navigating ebon, it’s clear
that forms and beams of light are unforeseen.
For who out here can find the Bard, Shakespeare?
Look! See! What a beauty! Hourglass figure,
that beaming bod. She’s dressed in blue and bright.
The hottest star, you could not prefigure.
At verge of light, can you see she’s just right?
Don’t forsake space. The faithful find the light.
A soulmate far away. She’s out of sight.
Taste and color
Hourglass figure
Beauty in jeans.
Love Letter
Courting a Black Widow Spider
I do admire your knitting skills
The sight of your cobweb fills me with thrills
Your hourglass figure glowing red
has never gripped my heart with dread
The sight of you a passion rare instills
So I could never believe, as I view fresh kills
that the day we wed, I’ll be next day’s meals
Off the ladder without a life jacket.
“Her ascent, was imminent,” said the sea,
“I wasn’t up for all that drowning racket.”
Dives in with her orange vest - carefree,
holding handles, she’s propelled through the deep,
where many ghosts do not talk in their sleep,
and tears of loved ones join many who weep.
The mermaid with a lucid tail; loose lips,
her hourglass figure and tongue making flips;
she’s flippant about the she-human hips.
“What no swishy-tail?! Look at that jacket…”
“She’s not a talent, like you…let her be…
Look at those two legs…think of the upkeep.”
In due time, she-human ascends, then slips.
2/14/2023
Fragmented Rhyme
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Used Howmanysyllables & Rhymezone
Let me tell you about the most tragic love story that has ever been known.
It's about a man who had a lover and her name was Pauline Jones.
It happened thirty-five years in the past.
But sadly, it was destined not to last.
She was beautiful with her hourglass figure and red hair.
But when she was taken from him, it was sad and unfair.
She had an ex-lover and he was jealous and mean.
He was furious and bitter because he lost Pauline.
Her ex-lover decided to visit her and she rejected him one last time.
He became enraged and he's rotting in prison for his horrible crime.
When she rejected her ex-lover, he decided that she shouldn't live anymore.
When Pauline's new lover came home, he found her lying dead on the floor.
When he saw what had been done,
He decided to end it all with his gun.
He knew that he could not be happy without having Pauline by his side.
He bought an engagement ring and was going to ask her to be his bride.
She treated him like a king and he treated her like she was a queen.
He ended his life because life would've been worthless without Pauline.
overturning the hourglass figure ~ time’s up
***
I felt her before I saw her
She had the flashiest most beautiful red-blue hair
A blue blood, naturally
Her lips were painted a luscious cherry red
Redder than the advertisement girls of the fifties
Was I dreaming? I looked at my assistant.
We sent the other models home.
We knew we had found our it girl
She was wearing a lacy top that accentuated her bosom.
And what a bosom it was.
Her hair dropped over one eye, but we could see her look.
She smoldered.
She was standing next to an oak tree that felt her too.
The leaves on the tree immediately transmogrified from brown to red.
She was magnificent, and we were grateful to find her.
Her hourglass figure I will never forget, and neither will my assistant.
We speak of the mysterious woman often.
She vanished right after we took the photos.
Only one turned out, but it was enough.
Skin deep
Sharon Maria Moemise
My God-given crown of femininity is my nappy hair
My skin in its freckled golden-brown glory belongs to me
If perfection is what you're looking for, then let’s be fair
Look in the mirror and decide who you really want to be
My rounded thighs bear witness to life's great gifts
My ample bosom attests to my absolute femininity
If the hourglass figure is on your current wish-list
Then my sagging backside and breasts are an impiety
I walk with my shoulders straight and my head held high
Every move makes my breasts jiggle and my backside sway
Every mark on my body bears testimony to the reason why
my beauty lies not in how I look nor in what anyone has to say
My worth is not measured by smooth skin and rosy cheeks
My gender no justification for being struck by anyone's fist
I'm a woman who brought forth man and was left with silver streaks
My worth is in loving myself, in deciding to finally put myself first.
Her goodies stuffed inside, petrified fine.
String of pearls, perfectly round, peachy keen.
Courting spicy cerise bottle of wine.
Silver flute melody apt to be seen.
An hourglass figure — chalice of a queen.
Rotund seedless grapes impress her red lips.
Gossamer stockings, two to hug her hips.
The goat horn, receptive to one lover.
Cleopatra’s adorned with beauty tips —
Her charm, Marc Antony will discover.
4/21/2020
Cornucopia Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Kai Neumann
What’s beautiful?
Not one thing on this planet
Is genetically the same
Being comfortable
In knowing
Your different
And that’s exactly
how you should be
Is beautiful.
HOURGLASS FIGURE
a shower curtain of dew
widow spider bids adieu
hazard for the chosen few
2/21/2017
Nette Onclaud’s TRIAD IN 7 BEATS CONTEST
He ruled his kingdom with an iron fist
all looked up to the earl of otherworld.
Women sighed over his handsome face,
his manly stature and his sense of humour.
His heir and son was cultivated and charming.
Yet the earl's wife was a fiery woman of red hair
with an hourglass figure she tempted and teased.
He was putty in her hands when she flirted.
His warriors would follow him to certain death
such was their trust in his leadership and skills.
His earldom was both strong and rich in arts,
jewels with bounteous harvests of fruit and grains.
His once many enemies were now scattered and few.
He gazed out over his kingdom and knew with certainty
that all was ready for the day he was no more
that his son would carry on capably in his footsteps.
He knew he would be remembered with relevance
that many would mourn his Rite of Passage
after all he was the patrician all he beheld
and he ruled all with wisdom and strength.
written 07/17/2015
contest Patriarchy
( Nb- I can assure the reader that this is in no way autobiographical- absolutely impossible)
Excuse me, madam, you're too fat
and Lady, you're too thin.
Your hair's not blonde cascading curls
you've dull and spotty skin.
An hourglass figure is out of reach
for somebody like you
you look like you are pregnant and
your butt needs toning, too.
Foundation and some blusher could
improve you, for a start
then work on your eyeliner, though
you'll find that's quite an art.
Try these techniques, be careful though,
you won't know when to stop
then one day you will look like me-
product of Photoshop.
liquor
crushed ice
an effervescent tonic
an engaging libation
a crystal glass an empty mass
a looking glass an engaging lass
a reflection fills the flask
an hourglass figure smooth as glass
a view deep
a deep view
a hot and hard jigger
an episodic embrace of the stem
a nicely paced repetitive stroked type grip
measured
a high pitch pleasured note of delight
a charge
and another...
...and another...
...and...
….....
...a spill...
...a swig...
...a swallow
an emphatic gush
a coupled roast
an orgasmic toast
a sexual rush.
31~10~2014
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