Long Belle of the ball Poems
Long Belle of the ball Poems. Below are the most popular long Belle of the ball by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Belle of the ball poems by poem length and keyword.
My Christmas tree in sparkling dress
stands in my window to impress.
She smiles at all the passersby.
She waves hello. She is not shy.
She winks at all the trees she sees
in nearby houses on the street.
She seems to shiver with delight
counting the minutes till midnight.
For one late hour wakened from sleep
through the dark house on slippered feet
I crept, while up, to catch a glance
of tinseled Christmas ambiance.
Outside the window daintily
danced my glittering Christmas tree!
With others down the street and back!
They twirled around the cul-de-sac!
Amazed I gazed quiet and still,
propped against the window sill, till
tired but thrilled I left to resume
much needed rest in my bedroom.
I heard giggling in early light
when she slipped in and stood just right.
But, she leaves needles everywhere
and ornaments dropped here and there.
She’ll have her fun till New Year’s Day,
then take a nap all tucked away.
Next year she’ll dress and dance again
with all her many merry friends.
12/11/2018
What if I happened to win the lottery
What would I do with the money
Spend it on all kinds of frivolous things
Or a year long trip with my honey
Eat in restaurants three times a day
Choose the richest item on the menu
Act like a snobbish old mucky muck
And obnoxious no matter the venue
They'd surely know I was 'nouveau riche'
By my big mouth flamboyant air
But I wouldn't care, with a bulging wallet
I'd do everything with panache and flair
Quite a pipe dream I'm currently having
Not a chance this lovable jester
Could be anything but the belle of the ball
A vision of beauty in polyester
Odds are about fourteen million to one
So I won't be buying the beer
More chance of becoming a cultural icon
Like Mylie or Britney Spears
© Jack Ellison 2012
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
What if I happened to win the lottery
What would I do with the money
Spend it on all kinds of frivolous things
Or a year long trip with my honey
Eat in restaurants three times a day
Choose the richest item on the menu
Act like a real old mucky muck
And obnoxious no matter the venue
They'd surely know I was 'nouveau riche'
By my big mouth flamboyant air
But I wouldn't care with a bulging wallet
I'd do everything with panache and flair
What a pipe dream I'm currently having
As if this sweet old lovable jester
Could be anything but the belle of the ball
A vision of beauty in polyester
Odds are about fourteen million to one
So I won't be buying the beer
More chance of becoming a cultural icon
Like Mylie Cyrus or Britney Spears
The opposite view
Unipolar power is like being the bride
and resent the uppity of bridesmaids
she wanted her wedding to be remembered
no one can equal
Her democracy is the bride that has
become domineering and not let in
the bridesmaid
Not even getting married if she thought her
the rule was somewhat diminished
Her attitude causes friction; others wanted
to leave to go find their own happiness
This includes Miss Russia who was
a downtrodden maid, much patronized, made
the fun of and dismissed.
Surprised, we were when out of the shadows
grew and demanded an equal place on the in
the beauty contest, where women in cowboy
hat ruled
but the domineering woman had to grow and
the woman in the cowboy hat
knew Miss Russia had to be subdued rapidly
and set out to ruin her reputation to preserve
her hegemon, she said, was a gift from God
the white deity who loves Miss America
The people at the wedding
a subdued, Miss Russia would be allowed
to exit as a junior partner if she helped to catch
miss China, whose beauty was fabulous
not seen for two thousand years
The woman in the cowboy hat could once more
be the belle of the ball
I want to tell you something
Something that may seem
To be just idle chatter
But you I don't just flatter
Now you may think I'm biased
But really it's the truth
The former is the latter
My words I don't just scatter
I think you're the most beautiful
Girl I've ever seen
The kind of girl that lives inside
The film reel of a dream
And though at present moment
I only get to look
That doesn't mean inside my head
I'm not writing a book
It's a romance story
It's not fiction at all
It's all about a troubadour
And his zeal for the belle of the ball
Fast forward to the ending
It's what endings are made of
They walk into the sunset
Together and in love
November Twinkle fairy was feeling very low,
to the Giggle Night Ball she had wanted to go
But her gold fairy wings were all tattered and torn -
she’d landed in a thicket, they’d caught on a thorn
And she got into a tizzy to escape from the bush,
when she cried out for help fairies came in a rush
Twinkle was so upset, she’d had her wings for years
no amount of tissues could stem her flow of tears
Her mother said Twinkle ‘please listen to me,
you’ll grow some new wings, just wait patiently’
‘Use this special lotion and rub in some fairy dust,
for the magic to work, you must stand still - you must!
Twinkle looked in the mirror, her back was quite bare -
her old wings had vanished, she was all too aware
All of a sudden her back got a terrible itch,
as her body contorted she began to twitch
Magic dust filled the air, new wings started to sprout,
it took nine nano seconds for her wings to spread out
Twinkle stood motionless until her new wings had dried,
they glistened like dew drops, she beamed with such pride
With her dazzling new wings she was the belle of the ball
and she spread rainbow dust as she flew round the hall
November Twinkle Fairy Contest
Sponsored By Caren Krutsinger
10/30/19
Spring is regaled as the belle of the ball,
all decked out in her emerald green gown.
And riding on the carousel of life,
like a playful child, she subtly arrives.
With warm winds, tethered to a treetop breeze,
She unfurls turquoise and peridot leaves.
And April rains water budding branches,
of maples; enticing sweet sap to rise.
Tending to the plants in Nature's garden,
Spring starts with daffodils and crocuses.
And as her moist, balmy breath melts the snow,
yellow dandelions begin to sprout.
She summons showers for the wildflowers,
while songbirds play tag with the dribbling drops.
And she polishes the sun till it shines;
while painting rainbows with refracted light.
~
A lilac endeavor
of promised importance
came strolling along
on a path in the sun
Its fragrance unfurling
this side of September
when springtime was singing
for winter was done
With meadowlarks chatting
in off color language
while watching the roses
now bloom by the wall
She fancied a smile
in lace covered cotton
with hair gold and windy,
the belle of the ball
I stood there a’ staring,
my eyes hardly leaving
the shape of her world
filled with raspberry dreams
Along an old footpath
with grass patches growing
and banks touching lilies,
all lining the streams
My heart felt a tremor,
like mountaintops falling
in piles of pebbles
and granite like things
Her beauty a fashion,
none other was wearing,
a fine velvet cloth stitched
in apricot strings
She looks my direction
with eyes colored passion
and lips made of honey
as sweet as the bees
Now watching her fingers
collecting the samples
of Ginkgo leaves floating
the back of the breeze
She laughed in the open,
a bright sun was shining
midst butterflies tinting
their wings greenish blue
I followed her northward,
my hand in my pocket,
then pulled out a poem
said, “This is for you”
An unfolded whisper
‘tween petals of daisies
now telling a story
of love or of not
Her glance towards the paper
was finding her grinning,
her painted toes tingled,
her breath just forgot
I melted like butter
on sidewalks in August
when feeling her smile
pressed tightly to mine
I guess in the verses
with lines penned in rhythm
she knew of my joy,
I had told her in rhyme
So now we just wander
directions that beckon
when autumn is sleeping
and summer awakes
Picking up branches,
like sculpting a sunset
or bridging a pasture,
whatever it takes
With overall blue jeans
and knees wet and muddy,
we tend to the gardens
the earth it does claim
While sharing our wine
with a cat and a moon bean,
enjoying each other,
now who could complain
There once was a lady
confined to her bed.
The other alternatives?
Best left unsaid.
She’d danced with the demons,
the belle of the ball.
Kisqali, Abraxane,
she’d sampled them all.
Enhertu played tango
at least for a while
Til Master Trodelvy
tapped in with a smile.
Exhausted, she holds off
the devil in red;
what he has in mind
is best left unsaid.
No, she’ll take the bridegroom
when he comes to call,
For he sees her beauty
though wasted and small.
And I’ll let him have her
though I’d be remiss
to send her off heavenly
sans one last kiss.
Though I’d like an answer
a voice in my head
says although you can, sir
it’s best left unsaid.