Long Antoinette Poems
Long Antoinette Poems. Below are the most popular long Antoinette by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Antoinette poems by poem length and keyword.
Vane glorious and absolutistic,
though I defiantly,
cavalierly, and blithely attest
Yukon bet your (laugh-in) sweet bippy
mine acidic breast
houses anarchic, anti-poetic ballistic,
barbaric, and bubonic
cannibalistic demons within thy
safely guarded Pandora chest
atomic cesium clock
timed to trigger avast
burst of anxiety, frenzy, and
(What me worry
Alfred E. Neuman) blast
ting mental quietude at most
inappropriate, inconvenient,
inopportune, out classed
adrenaline rush, nausea,
palpitating heart, vertigo
besieging, corrupting,
endeavoring fractured arrant
cleft daemonic gripping
hellishly psychic chant
rendering unto sieze hoar,
a choking vise grip extant
yule hiss sieze indomitable
banshee fully controlling grant
diabolic, dogmatic, and dynamic,
anguished corporeal ache
easily, egregiously, and emblematically,
exemplified historically
graphic fatalistic, and ecstatic coup,
(koo), when I caused furious frantic flight,
and/or fight betake
king angst causing just desserts
for Marie Antoinette,
who got her humble pie cake,
thence dispensing with formalities,
where a joshing drake
(named Gill O. Teen)
also known (solely known
to mine selfish source error ways)
alias i.e. as; the Lewis (loose)
lunatic, heady harvester,
and decapitation Deacon trumpeting,
trouncing, and triumphing tranquility
for fifty three Tuesdays,
thence sea king punishing psychotic
pre pound payment
basking in glory (re: gory us)
amidship crashing quays
music to mine ears hearing plaintive neighs
high pitched straining
vocal chord hamstrung keys
regaling oceanographic
lambent hagiographic essays
and keeping at bathos bays.
Louis the Fifteenth, king of France,
Adored Madame du Barry.
His royal ardor was not bound
To the person he did marry.
His paramour was hard to please.
The king brooded day and night
On what act of loving kindness
Might appease her appetite.
One day he called his jeweller,
Whose face turned pale, then green,
When told to make a necklace
The likes of which no eyes had seen.
Vanity of vanities! Let nobody forget:
All humankind proposes yields to a Higher Will.
For the king lay dead and buried
When it was time to pay the bill.
They asked:' Who has got the money?
Who is there so rich
As to settle payment
And haul us from this ditch?
Louis the Sixteenth was now king,
But not long on the throne.
To purchasing the necklace
He himself was prone.
His wife strongly objected.
She thought the whole thing crazy.'
'We need to spend on self-defence:
More vessels for the navy!'
Now Cardinal De Rohan was a worldly priest,
Not averse to 'oo la la.'
Especially not in the matter of
Jeanne de la Motte Valois.
As a young girl she was naughty,
But she confessed in style.
The priest let her off counting rosary beads
All for the sake of her sweet winning smile.
Jeanne told the cardinal
They could have a sales deal signed
As friends at court had signaled
That the queen had changed her mind.
The queen and cardinal soon met
And the queen signed with aplomb.
De Rohan was too befuddled
To sense something was wrong
The queen received the necklace
But the queen was not the queen.
Charming though the lady was,
Who knew where she had been?
The necklace was picked to pieces
And sold off part by part.
O woeful desecration
Of this glorious objet d'art?
The cardinal faced the music
A victim of delusion
'Gullable, not guilty,'
came the court's conclusion.
Madame de la Motte Valois
Had no basis for a plea
And she was branded on both arms
With the letter V.
This letter stood for 'Voleuse,'
Meaning in English 'thief.'
Somehow she got to London,
And there she came to grief.
When fleeing from her creditors,
She fell from an upper floor.
Those creditors she did escape,
But only at death's door.
During her interment
Wagging tongues spoke of her guile
But someone chirped in her defence:
'But she had such a sweet winning smile.'
I wrote a letter
With teardrops from my heart
I walk the streets of Antoinette
My mind dances with Baudelaire
Love flutters as the pigeon’s wings on statues
I see them, so close and feel the emptiness
Like the cold stone upon which their wings rest
My wine glass is empty
Then full
Then empty
My veins are red like bloodshot eyes
I am tired
Confessions made
I cried
As I walk across the bridge of god
Over the seine
Notre dame stares back, am I insane?
Have I been alone all this time?
Perdu, in time, perdu inside my wine
Hidden words and lost letters
You shall never see
Tossed thoughts in salad dressings
Away away as the river decides to run
I look back inside black and white photos
How did I become this way
How did I become the stray?
Fallen spirit, burning heart
Completely and utterly torn apart
I stare at the Eiffel tower
A mighty spear, that pierces me
Into the million lovers of gay Paris
Angels weep, pain flows
The blood of time, the blood that becomes the wine
The pain, inside of me
For all the lost letters
Mother and father never did see
Written By: D. Collins 6/20/19
By starving the people, we're hoping they will revolt.
But, that may not come to be the end result.
Those same people may see us from a different view.
Through the eyes of malice by us appeasing the Jews.
We went even further in draining all of their blood.
Sanctioning any country that tried to show them love.
It is downright cruel to starve the whole of a people.
Killing economies for no good rhyme or reason.
What if all sanctioned countries started teaming up?
With something in common for coming after us.
To starve the whole of a people just ain't right.
Go after the players, not all human life.
If we play this game it may have the opposite effect.
As that of Louie the 14th and Marie Antoinette.
If sanctions don't work should we "obliterate" them?
All on the word of toupee wearing white men?
Brigitte my love
Our Country suffers of many debts
The people are restless
Whatever shall we do love?
Ah Macron, we must think past the cookies
The solutions are complex, answers evasive
Let me speak with Marie Antoinette, she shall know!
Queen of Navarre, By god we shall be saved!
Marie, Marie Antoinette our people are restless
Our republic is in debt. these are crazy times!
Whatever shall we do?
I am fed up, allons-y
Ah fear not, if they have not bread!
Let them eat Nutella!
Lower the prices
Nutella for the masses!!!
Marie, are you sure? very very sure of such things?
Oui oui, on with it, my father was emperor of Rome
Nutella will calm the masses
Come here Nemo. taste, see even Nemo is tres happy now!
And so France lowered the prices of Nutella
Thus began the nouveau French Revolution
Riots in the streets, brawling in the magasins
The uprising has began, we want our Nutella for free
The masses rose
Nutella for all, Nutella for sans prix
We are all somewhat fou for Nutella you see!
And so the masses fought each other for Nutella's liberty
Nutella one and Nut Ella all!
I swear to your Brigette
We should have given them Macarons!!!
People remain civilized with cafe and cookies! n'est pas?
Emmanuel my love, fret not
The revolution shall be quelled
Qh I have the perfect person for this
He shall restore order to our dear republic
Prey tell Brigette? Who could do such a thing now
Riots everywhere, the masses fight each other daily?
The streets are not safe
There is a shortages of Nutella now, we are doomed cheri
Non non mon amour, I shall call Alizee
She shall sing us out of the terrible mess
She is the mistress of Doug McMillion
This man can save us all!!
Brigitte, who is this man you call Doug?
Why Emmanuel he is the president of Walmart
He has squashed many Black Fridays rebellions
He shall save us all!!!!!!
From these unruly unsavory Nutella shoppers!!!!!
Vive la France!
Vive Alizee
Mange ton macaroon mon cheri
C'est ton droit et ta liberté
Translations
Allons-y = Lets go, pronounced similar to Alizee
Magasins = Stores
N'est pas is written on sound should be "N'est ce pas"
Mange ton macaroon mon cheri = Eat your macaroon cookies my love"
C'est ton droit et ta liberte = Is your right and your liberty
For Sofia Coppola
The epitome of serenity
lies just beneath the foot of me
sashaying through the sweet, clean grass
White linen bathes my skin
my loose hair dancing in the wind
billowy clouds, how silently they pass
Oh Mozart!
take my heart
dance playfully and light about my mind
Mandolin disrupts the wind
glint of sunshine blinds my eye
fat, sumptuous grapes exploding on the vine
Brie, bordeaux, wild strawberries
fill the bounty set in front of me
my avid hunger puts me to the test
To my woolly lamb, how safe I am
amongst the wheat so tall and tan
as I hold him firm and snug against my breast
Take me home
thatched roof and stone
the proud gazebo stands beyond the stream
My duvet of straw and hay
my eyes they close, my body lay
to lose myself inside Sofia's dream.
My impression after viewing Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette.
I’ll never forget what’s her name;
That teacher who bored us to tears
Whose voice seemed to drone on and on
And lessons appeared to last years.
Her minuscule lacklustre eyes
Peered over a spectacled nose
No glimmer of passion in sight
No colourful facts to expose.
She reeled off the kings and the queens
The plight of Marie Antoinette,
Victorians, Tudors and wars
And all with a face firmly set.
I’ll never forget what’s her name
Oh how I was left uninspired.
It’s rumoured her smile first appeared
The day when at last she retired.
16.09.19
'I'll never forget what's her name contest' : sponsored by John Lawless
It all started with a bet
Inside a launderette
Over a cigarette
With a brunette
I hadn’t yet met
Her name was Marie-Antoinette
As she said it she did a pirouette
And wow what a silhouette
Coquette she wore an amulet
Feared nothing short of a bayonet
Forgot the laundry it was still wet
I got hungry and craved an omelet
Asked M-A to join me in my Corvette
Drove to the closest luncheonette
Ordered baguette and anisette
We talked right until the sun set
She showed me a statuette
She dreamt of a trip to Tibet
So we jumped on a jumbo jet
Me her and the rest of the jetset
Across the aisle was the oddest duet
He played the clarinet she the castanet
While Marie-Antoinette rhymed the alphabet
Dancing and waving with a serviette
Try and imagine this strange vignette
Marie-Antoinette Marie-Antoinette
Forever in her debt
Not so easy to forget
I only have one regret
I left Marie-Antoinette back in Tibet
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Some don't know her very well-
My sister, Antoinette Marcelle;
A reserved and silent beauty,
To see her is a pleasantry.
Though she is much younger than me,
We two are the youngest of three.
A gift from our father, Marzell,
Is the second name of Antoinette Marcelle.
Summer days are peachy keen,
A flower grows where none has ever been!
And is therefore rarer than rare,
For others are abloom elsewhere.
Antoinette Marcelle, a wishing well!
And birds sing in the dell,
And shadows chase the sound of song,
As they dart and flit along.
With my brother, we are three,
Side by side in destiny;
But youngest of us is Antoinette Marcelle,
The last button on Jacob's coattail.
Note: My late mother drew this picture of Antoinette when she was still a child. She gave me a copy. I have always loved this song by Carly Simon, and that's why I included it, not with any intention of self praise. It's such a loving song about sisters, and it's always made me think of mine. Actually, I'd like to be my younger sister. :0
I followed that cad Robyn Hood
and discovered he's up to no good
An expert at cheating
bad mouthing and bleating
His actions I've not understood
Oh how awful that folks feel so glum
Many now call him Robyn Hoodlum
He's a raunchy thief
who brought them to grief
He preyed on the blind, deaf, and dumb
Robyn has folks dancing like Muppets
He loves to treat them like puppets
He tugs at their strings
and then clips their wings
No wonder their confidence plummets
Heard the sheriff will arrest him soon
Robyn will be singing a new tune
While sitting in jail
He will cry and wail
In sorrow for acting like a goon
Sheriff found out Robyn is a girl
Her real name is Antoinette Pearl
Robyn Hoodlum wed
Now the sheriff is dead
and Robyn is engaged to an earl
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
11-01-17
Fairytale plot by Jan Allison, Marti Sutherland, and Lin Lane