Long Belle Poems
Long Belle Poems. Below are the most popular long Belle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Belle poems by poem length and keyword.
I chuckle soft when people fume,
And blame the lot in suits and gloom.
“You see those leaders? All a scam!”
But who’s still selling free yarn?
Was it not your own cousin’s name,
On that campaign with matching frame?
The nurse who sighs, “This ward’s a zoo,”
Still checks her brows in selfie view.
She posts, “On duty, Lord be praised,”
While someone’s gasping, soul half-raised.
Yet when they moan the state’s unwell,
She nods, “It’s true,” then rings the bell.
The lecturer, with paunch and tie,
Reads ancient notes with weary sigh.
He shares some grades with knowing nod,
Then says, “This country’s truly flawed.”
He blames the youth for lack of grit—
While half his class just pays to sit.
The copper parked on potholed street,
Asks, “Where’s your licence? Papers neat?”
He grins, “Let’s talk,” with greasy grin,
While tucking morning bribes within.
By noon he’s shouting on the news—
“Society’s gone down the loos!”
We roast the system every day,
With memes and gifs in strong array.
Yet scroll past queues to dodge the vote,
Then mourn when goats are running boats.
We ask for change, yet shift no ground—
Just echo tweets that spin around.
The tailor swears, “Your cloth’s near done,”
But dances at his niece’s fun.
The mechanic says your car’s in queue,
But joyrides round like Fast & Few.
Then tells his mates, “This land’s a mess!”
While wearing shoes you just redressed.
The market lady shifts her scale,
And bags your rice with hidden shale.
The youth who screams, “We must rebel!”
Still ghosts his friend to chase one belle.
We all want justice, loud and bold—
But sow deceit like coins of old.
The pastor thunders, “Give and live!”
Then buys a Benz you helped to give.
He claims the Lord approves his flight,
While dodging tax in holy light.
He’s not alone—we’re in this stew,
From deacon’s pew to bus queue too.
So when next time you curse “the throne,”
Recall—it doesn’t stand alone.
That golden seat’s not self-assigned,
It’s built from all we’ve undermined.
To mend the roof, don’t shout and frown—
Pick up a spade, rebuild your town.
You want clear roads? Then drive with sense.
You want fair rules? Then stop the fence.
It’s not by screaming, “God will run it!”
While jumping queues with cheek and sonnet.
The mirror’s clear, it doesn’t bluff—
We are the system. That’s enough.
BACK STORY
Me and my dad used to work as a team on the Trolley Buses for Manchester Corporation, out of the Hyde Road Depot. Dad drove, and I was his offsider, collecting fares, and keeping order on the bus, like making sure people did not block the aisle, or go past the stop they had paid for. and no one was standing up if there was room to sit down, also making sure people upstairs did not bang there feet on the floor. General Spoilsport eh. In the second part, Moses was a big African fella, and his offsider was a little red headed Irishman, they usually had the run in front of us, and tried whatever they could to get us to go ahead, and take the load off them, timetables did not bother them much. I always told dad,
if it comes to a fight, I will take the little one
Trolley Buses
By Robert (Bob) Moore ©
I used to work on trolley buses, up and down Hyde Road
My dad he was the driver, and I controlled the load
Move along the bus I’d say, there’s room for 2 upstairs
that’s where you were allowed to smoke, in those days no one cared
Leave from Piccadilly, the 210 was our bus
Keep eyes on the timetable, it meant a lot to us.
Ardwick Green and Belle Vue, then on past Debdale Park
Hyde would be the Terminus, then turn and head right back
Sometimes a petrol driver, would try to make some cash
With overtime on trolleys, but sometimes they were rash
They’d forget about the trolley arm, and try to overtake
They’d see us wave and shouting, and realized “mistake”
It was all too late of course, and the sparks would start to fly
The arms were bent and waving, and the power it would die
Then swearing and apologies, and laughter close to tears
Then back to depot on batteries, for the ribbing and the sneers.
Moses was an African, his offsider was a Mick
They tried to get us to take their load, with every dirty trick
We pulled into Hyde one day, they had their trolleys down
You should be in front they said, and take the load to town.
Dad did not bat an eyelid, we’er on a break he said
you’ll have to wait 10 minutes, before we go ahead
they knew they could not wait that long, they had to make their run
so trolleys up, and off they went, we drank tea and watched the fun.
Outside the walls stood a handmaiden gazing
Twisting her skirt between fingers so frail
Patches of burlap were sewn on the garment
Cut from a sack of a barley oat bale
Oh how she dreamed of the opulent palace
Silver and gold and the finest of lace
Gowns made of velvet with ribbons of satin
She spun around with a smile on her face
As if a princess, her blonde hair a flowing
Blue skies above now the tint of her eyes
Hearing a song on the early spring breezes
Never once noticed the coming surprise
Then saw him on horseback and blushed like a petal
Found on the reddest of roses that grew
Knee bent to curtsey, feeling embarrassed
Knowing this gesture is what she should do
“Good day my fair maiden, your dance was enchanting”
He said as he smiled, his kindness was felt
“So sorry my prince, I did not see you coming”
Again on the soil before him she knelt
“Rise up,” he said as he slid from the saddle
“There is no need for such formality,
for one of such beauty tis I who should bow”
Saying this he touched the earth with one knee
Once more she blushed like an apricot sunrise
Standing he reached out and taking her hand
Wondered, “What brings you by here on this morning,
adding such loveliness to our fine land?”
“Your majesty, I’m but a servant daydreaming,
Seeing myself quite the belle of the ball
Very much childish I know you are thinking
For I belong far outside this great wall”
He pondered a moment, his chin now he fondled
Suddenly grinned with the happiest glance
“Well now fair maiden, if thou would permit me
Please be my guest at this evening’s spring dance?”
“Oh handsome prince I could not even think it
Look at my dress, I have nothing to wear
Merely these rags and an old pair of high tops
Never to mention the state of my hair”
“Never you mind and I kind of like high tops
Maybe some jeans and a tank top in red
Pull your hair back and it will be perfect
Nothing you’ll need when we climb into bed”
“What’s that you say, you want sex after dancing
Beat it you creep, I’m abreast of your game
I’ll spread these legs not for anyone fancy
Damn it, you men, every one is the same”
As he departed, rejected and sneering
She stomped away feeling angry and mean
So here you find such an unhappy ending
The truth is she only had eyes for the queen
The Beast: The smoke is in the opposite direction of me . ..... .. .
When I look at myself in the cracked mirror,
At first glance, I'm hideous as hell on Mount Everest! I’m not looking my best
Enraged out of all control
Sorry for discouraging myself in front of you –
At least I’m not head over heels over myself and my looks, which could crack any mirror that reflects my every revolting feature –
My body, my face, my everything!
The Beauty (Belle): Don’t talk that way, you modest, negative Beast!
The sweet aroma of flower blossoms is heading my direction!
I’m thrilled to have you and I sharing our affection, healing my infection in my heart – you saved me from the guy with a muscular and hairy body by the name of Gaston!
Thanks for allowing me to go the opposite direction!
He said weird, flirtatious things that made me speechless, yet uncomfortable
I'm beautiful now! Thanks for this gift of such a precious dress! I must confess I fell in love with it!
Everything works out in the end, even if I go through obstacles again and again –
You’re always there, my most beloved, furry friend!
Let’s run an errand…shall we do so? I don’t mean to offend!
The Beast: Teach me how to read!
I need to be taught good manners, especially at the table as you saw my poor manners last night at the dinner table!
Teach me to have a good way of living by being a proper, gentle, kindhearted, intelligent, and independent human being like you…
I bet you and I will have a good future spent with each other…
I know I was mean and cruel, but I’ve changed for the better just for your sake!
Can you join me for dinner!
The Beauty (Bell): Sure. Why not?
The Beast: *in his head* I think we’re meant to be with each other forevermore!
The Beauty (Belle): *in her head* You’re the one that I cherish and adore – just like reading a new, enchanting series…I can’t help, but fall victim to your well-spoken words and I’ve read books that were a similar genre to you, however, they weren’t as well-written, wondrous, and wonderful like yours.
Belle: Can you help me with my chores, my darling Beast?
The Beast: Sure! I’ll do anything for you! I’d transform into a human…all for you, sweetheart…..
There once was a girl,
Who's name I can't tell.
To spare her the pain,
I'll just call her Belle.
Belle was a beauty
And all the beasts could see,
She was everything in a girlfriend
That they wanted theirs to be.
Belle was so trusting,
Because she was never treated wrong,
But little did she know that
Her innocence wouldn't last long.
She had two friends,
Sasha and Trevor,
And a boyfriend that she thought
She'd love forever.
Her boyfriend, Sam,
And Trevor were friends.
So this fearsome foursome
Had fun to no end.
The youngest of the four
But the smartest, she thought.
But what a friend was
Was not what she was taught.
Trevor and Belle
Would hang out all day.
She would try to be like him
In her own boyish way.
You see, the Trevor I speak of
Was King of the Beasts
And everything he wanted
Was laid at his feet.
And, although curious,
Belle stayed true to Sam
And that made Trevor feel
That he was less of a man.
One day, in a summer
5 years ago,
Belle told me something
I needed to know.
She told me what happened
The day that she ran.
The day that will forever
Be burned in the sand.
She told me what happened
When she looked over her shoulder
And saw him walking towards her
As the room grew colder.
She told me her tears
Were no match to his power.
She told me what made this beast
A coward.
She told me she screamed
And hollered and yelled
But her cries were soon muffled
By his lips, dry and pale.
She told me how she felt
The day that she was bruised.
Never in her life
Had she felt so used!
I asked her why she didn't fight
Or get tough like she does on the field.
She just said I'd never know the
Weakness that I would feel.
I couldn't help but to cry for her
As she blamed herself.
Belle had always wanted to be
The beauty on everyone's shelf.
"But not like that," she said to me,
"Not with one of my friends."
She let a tear roll down her face
As she spoke of her life's end.
Some may ask why'd she tell me;
"What made her come to you?"
I simply look at them and say,
"You don't know Belle like I do."
I know this story in great detail
And if you look real close you'll see
The tear I shed while writing this
Because...Belle is me.
[Verse 1]
They built their fences high and wide,
White porches where their secrets hide.
Laughed in rooms where he’d never belong,
Called him Beast when he walked too strong.
No shoes, no name, just dirt and fire,
Scars from hands and hired liars.
He kept his voice down, learned to crawl—
But they still prayed he’d never stand tall.
[Verse 2]
She came in lace with a crooked grin,
Smelled like roses, spoke of sin.
Eyes like winter, cold and proud,
A whisper soft, a promise loud.
"I’ll fix him," Belle said behind her glass,
As if a soul was hers to pass.
Took his hand with a velvet chain,
Smiled sweet while she carved his name.
[Chorus]
But oh—
This beast was never broken.
He wore their slurs like armor, unspoken.
They called him shadow, called him shame—
But he held the mirror to their names.
She called it love, he saw the trap,
Her hands too smooth, her heart all black.
And when she lied her final breath,
He kissed the ground and wept her death.
[Verse 3]
She wore her beauty like a crown,
But spit on every soul bowed down.
Danced through halls built on the backs
Of beasts and boys they painted black.
He saw her gold, her powdered face,
And heard the screams beneath her grace.
No sword in hand, no royal blood—
Just truth that rose up from the mud.
[Bridge]
When justice came, she tried to cry—
But even roses learn to lie.
And every beast she ever named
Stood at her grave, unashamed.
"You feared my face," he said aloud,
"And wore your privilege like a shroud."
"You smiled while calling me the curse—
But now you see who needed worse."
[Final Chorus]
Now fox and man, now claw and hand
Walk side by side across the land.
No more masks and no more chains—
Just soil fed with old bloodstains.
They called him beast, but he forgave.
He carved a world from what they gave.
And in the wind, you’ll hear his song—
The one they feared… was right all along.
[Outro]
"Beauty ain't in mirrors made...
It's in the hands that plant the grave.
They feared the fur, the flame, the scar...
But the monster's not the one who starves."
Racism is the wicked twist of all!
Note: Grateful for an 2nd place finish in the A Wicked Twist On Fairytales Contest.
Ever since I experienced being significantly monetarily sidelined...
(how about that topic for a change of pace?)
Yes back to getting walloped, decked
and clubbed courtesy cold hearted brute,
who casually, glad handedly, and royally
flushed out mine tailored pricey suit
wherein every pocket
once stashed, and lined with loot.
Ever since scamming imbroglio
(three weeks ago today -
July eleventh two thousand twenty three)
yours truly, a formerly
happy go lucky wordsmith
immune to the plethora
of devious shenanigans
courtesy predacious traitors
to the bywords of honesty and integrity
scamper away with laundered money.
Mine fantasy modus operandi to cope
regarding falling prey
to hoax gullible guy
to surrender crisp greenbacks
entrapment like a dope
no matter poet of Penn Valley
at the end of his figurative rope,
when fraudsters shill and scope
out crosshairs stunning
persons exhibiting naïveté
the following escapist ploy adopted.
E'er since I (a reincarnated cavalier
or gentleman snubbed
by sought after Southern Belle)
at night suicidal ideations
visit psyche as haunting spectre
sublimated death wish
permeates thru mine every cell
courting the grim reaper
to carry me back to carry
me back to Old Virginny,
where lovely bones
of me Confederate ancestors dwell
upon bloody fields farewell
to arms and legs
mounted battlefields when groundswell
of internecine warfare
made life on earth
wind and fire created a living hell
he who fleeced me
vengeance doth impel
to imagine him gunned down
as enemy numero uno.
Moribund courtesy online heist
me entire being feels
chopped, minced, and appallingly diced,
hence no surprise
sheepishly admitting to ewe
how yours truly still feels blue
aghast at passivity prevailed
how grievousness flourishes
checking and savings accounts
frankly zapped analogous
how David regarding Goliath he slew,
yet impossible mission
to know your enemy
with absolute zero details,
cuz the fly by night scamp
flat out sold pack of lies
of course I voluntarily
must admit straightaway and true
mine fingers converted cash
to bitcoin currency
yet entranced, kickstarted, seduced
as Harvey Specter
did courtesy sotto voce woo.
To 32
What a way to appear on screen
With cascadic hair open umpteen
Wishing me on the festival of lights
Giving me extreme delights
Oozing with passion from looks I say
Glittering with fervour come what may
As name means the gracious one
Let me wish thee in ton
My joy multiplies due to greetings thine
Out of blue I verse just fine
After a huge hiatus we are together
Let’s save the bond ever after
This being the festive month
Has also seen thee taking birth..!!
To vt
Last night missed thy profile pic in yellow
Had I shot it, it’d have been a delight lo..!
At least today you install it
I look at the portrait so sweet
Wishing you the happiest festival of lights
Thy eyes itself are twin delights
The way you decorated thy porch
It seems you’re an angel arch
Blessed with looks of divinity
You excel in all chores pretty
Interior design or can control
None can ever match thy role
A Brahmin belle with Telangana twang
I devote thee this poetic song..!!
To subhashini
In pink attire ethnically adorned
Lamps lit by angel epitomized
With effervescent grin by graceful
Blesses me in a way lavish full
Glaring presence in my life sweet
Gloriously gleam in her grin glint
Falling short of words apt
To extoll this ‘sweet speaker’ intact
With plate full of lamps luminant
The belle in pink blue is valiant
As if my Lord Goddess has come down
To bless me this dynamic dawn
Accept my prostrations o divine belle
Want to be under thy charming spell..!!
To sjt
Looking gorgeously graceful
Jaw dropping is thy skill full
Creamlike colour adores thy neck
Thou are my Goddess I beck
Let me drive my poem home
Up to second I verse alone
Thy every shed is my subject
Surely makes you do reflect
Classic charm belongs to thee
And it just makes me verse spree
Motherly aura suffuses everywhere
When you give grin superior
Fortunate I’m extremely Deep
As you light the lamps in heap..!!
To mum3
Want to verse on thee
Trust me so immensely
Being my Lord Goddess
You’re ruling me I assess
I’m in thy charm to to
Seeing you as IAS is my motto
Through verses I can show
You thy real power so
Never underestimate I request
For you deserve the best..!!
Circa February 28th, 1968 - The Former Leiper Estate
Soon after our family settled
into the sprawling estate
named "Glen Elm" approximate
half century old from date
mentioned in title, said treasure
rosy Gypsy foretold fate
Harriet Harris, (daughter
of Antebellum Rebecca great
Kuritsky - Brooklyn transplanted
Southern Belle), create
head "FAKE" story, whereby
former did absquatulate
with jack of all trades (Boyce
Brandon Harris) too late
above named ramshackle
mansion, they remained mate
to each other til death did
thee mum part, congratulate
sans, her high school chums
felt envious - girls did rate
papa (now octogenarian widower)
most handsome (master) bait,
whose smarts earning advanced
degree applying his pate
as mechanical engineer for
General Electric did satiate
penchant solving complex
mathematical equations tete
a tete for super intelligent
entrepreneurial fella alleviate
head real passion rehabilitating
derelict property, allocate
ting leisure time resuscitating
neglected homes ameliorate
head procreative itch practically
rebuilding this did animate
dad's profuse true calling
spending hours fame did anticipate
(though papa quite modest,
and other people gushed appreciate
ting self taught revitalizing
unseen hidden gem and to articulate
unique artistic flair himself
as taskmaster masterpieces intimate
ting creations nobody, but
himself could imagine brilliance pate
drew forth unbelievable
enhancements doppelganger did berate
rarely could family, friends,
strangers...do more than capitulate
with ceaseless praise always
adding final touches to captivate
most flattering aura, charisma,
karma (credit) perfectly calibrate
head aesthetic qualities even
shabbiest building communicate
ting magic touch of, who plied
blood, sweat and tears culminate
ting in unbelievable transformation
particularly, how to designate
ideal amount of appeal to abode
came to screeching halt dissipate
head after mum passed, and papa's
raw talent earned thru educate
ting himself, no amount of inborn
inherent blueprints did illustrate
native bent, BUT no new life could
resurrect demise of his queen soulmate!
Sometimes a normal life can become epic,
But this thing called fate has a bag full of tricks.
Every day in my village, out of the window,
I saw the face of a graceful belle who had the sun’s glow.
I wanted to confess my love for her but the time wasn’t right;
A mysterious man from the faraway castle kidnapped her one night.
She needed help I thought; she left without a goodbye.
I knew I needed to do something not just lament & cry.
So the cat inside me turned into a lion,
And I rode off on my steed with arms of iron.
I travelled for long, cold nights, ten,
In the Valley of Ice where everything was frozen.
The only thing keeping me alive was my love,
As I faced creatures like that dragon from above.
The scaly beast wanted to eat me; it roared loudly bringing my ears pain.
But the sound created an avalanche and the next moment, it got slain.
I kept on walking, covered in white from head to toe.
Little did I know that I was yet to face the wicked dwarves of the snow?
But on seeing me half frozen, half wounded, they got scared and ran.
The puny blokes might have thought that I am an abominable snowman!
So after surviving these hours of tiredness & frustration,
I finally saw the gates of that majestic castle; I had reached my destination.
The doors to the fort were surprisingly not closed.
And the deadly crocodiles in the pool had lazily dozed.
I got inside and saw a hairy, cruel looking beast.
Looked like he could eat a hundred men for a feast.
I felt like killing him but his sight had turned my skin white & pale.
Then I saw that he was being hugged by a belle, it was the same female.
I got shocked but she told me the beast was actually kind.
And so she began to love her abductor; I realized that love was blind!
The brute turned out to be a good fellow with a heart of gold.
Needed he someone to give him company in this lonely blanket of cold.
Then I bid the couple adieu with a heavy heart.
And I rode on to a new place for a new start.
I had cheated death but failed to win the girl who I thought was mine.
Still, I’m not distressed anymore, at least she’s smiling & fine.