Long Curtsy Poems
Long Curtsy Poems. Below are the most popular long Curtsy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Curtsy poems by poem length and keyword.
Oh how this bodice is dressed in taffeta,
Lined with hundreds of lavender pleats
Spiraling, drooping, whirling
All over my voluptuous contour …
Bare these limbs grinding on soft moss
To tap among rustled displays
From many a lovers’ heat to children’s romp.
I gaze at my long tresses hung by threads
Of July frills, combing the strands
Delicate as clusters in a spin that ignites
The evening air, the lush of daylight’s vine…
And like Kojin in a free-fall prance, I cascade
Through a mantle of grass, my arms floating
Over wisps of mildest pink, of boldest lavender;
Then to curtsy in a prayerful Shinto bow
Under heaven's marquee where my chants
about lonesome tales are hushed in secrecy.
At nightfall, stars circle my lit frame,
The aroma of wisteria's mint huffs
outside my pores and unto an earthy glow;
Young the nippled buds swelling in lusty dusk
Till I gently writhe as a mystical shadow of the woods.
......................
SPRINGTIME STANDARD CONTEST
~ The wisteria tree is packed with an assemblage
of purple blossoms, falling in tapered clusters
to symbolize a kneeling pose of honor and devotion
based on Asian folklore.
~ Kojin: Japanese Tree Goddess
She slipped into the ballroom
Shimmied across the floor
Bobbed a graceful curtsy
Slid quickly through the door
Leaving some mixed reactions
From all those gathered there
First time they’d seen a tango
With the artiste totally bare
And it’s not the sort of thing
One ever ever expects to be seen
At an Official Civic Reception
For Her Majesty the Queen
And certainly not in Bolton
Not even as a merry jest
Especially when entertaining
Hordes of other Royal Guests
Though some few unkind people
Thought the Duke wanted more
Insisting they heard that personage
Murmuring encore encore encore
The palace issued a strong denial
An apology came from Tony Blair
Seen as rather ridiculous
As he wasn’t even there
The Heir was rather annoyed
Because he hadn’t been invited
On that special day that the
Mysterious woman was sighted
Somewhere up near Wigan
The dancer read her press
Already preparing for her
Next appearance sans any dress
You unfold the mantles of paradise in my eyes,
As I, ambassador of beauty in curtsy arms, rise!
When I stand from the deck with awe and wonder,
I wish our ferry flies and soars high like a bird.
All charms I see are truths of songs I’ve heard,
As whirs of zip wires play like violin over yonder.
While I stroll the landscape to explore and wander
I’ve glimpse of the moon peeking behind a day cloud curd.
moonlight smiles with sun
as bright foliage unfurl
pirouette cold gentle breeze
adorn forest field
eyes dance on green lake to shore
sun-moon ballroom I sojourn
October 19, 2016 11.50am
Copyright2016Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
First Place
Contest: Three Style II (Couplet, Sedoka, Free Verse)
Judged: 10/22/2016
Sponsor: Poet Laura Loo
Standing in the garden, as I listen to the sound of the fluttering humming birds
Touch of Spring memories linger in the air as I stand at a complete loss for words.
Taste of wild honey from bumble jumbo honey bees
Romancing the palette of my mouth as I enjoy the sweet summer breeze.
Burst of colorful hues camp around me with all of nature’s natural creation
Beauty at its best without any flaw or abrasion.
Destroy the garden
Without sorrow nor pardon
Feel not pity and have no mercy
Excuses shouldn’t take no curtsy!
Excuses are solely mere lies
Clothed in deceptional disguise!
O how we nestle and cradle excuses drifted by the breeze
Constructing for them a nesting place in the hammock by the trees.
We crave honesty from others
Yet, hold tightly to excuses as if they were our brothers!
Care no more to build your excuses a rocking cradle
For those excuses will prove to be, someday, fatal
To self and others in the future – unforeseen –
To your goals – to your visions – and even your dreams!
Tear down the Garden of Excuses you have built
Let it all wither, dry and wilt
Make no more habitats until your excuses find a new lodging place
And stop yourself from advocating the case
So that you continue to harbor fictitious excuses
‘Lest you lock your garden gates to truth when it accuses!
How many dreams unreached?
How many goals have been breached?
How many visions never seen?
How many achievements achieved with spleens
As your excuses lay-on back
Retaining nothing but an empty sack
Cradled and nestling in your garden’s court
Delegating and demanding truth to abort?
Tear down the garden
Let your heart and mind harden
Without mercy nor pardon
Excuses are but lies deserving not your courtesy
For all excuses bring you nothing but malicious fallacies…•
Humming as she arranges an assortment of biscuits
On pastel green plates,
(Viennese waltz)
Beryl checks the clock ticking softly, three thirty,
“Come along, Shannon”,
Her young charge steps in alongside her
As Beryl works the care home rooms.
Teas and coffees, counterclockwise,
In the waltz of the afternoon tea trolley.
Beryl choreographs and guides as they go,
“Now, remember Reenie is partial
to the vintage charm of a custard cream,
Whereas Doris will go for a fig roll –
Sturdy with a hidden sweetness,
That surprises,
And Edie will tell you her stories twice -
Will want for the Twix.”
Shannon pours teas into proper cups with proper saucers
As they glide over to Ballroom Blanche,
“Danced through life haven't you, love”,
Beryl adds in whisper,
“Blanche can seem a bit crisp around the edges,
But she's really quite a softee – sweet,
She leans to Viennese whirl”.
Shannon adds two sugars,
Twirls the spoon in the cup
As she hands silent Marjorie
in her beige cardy,
A malted milk.
They reverse turn to the sun filled lounge.
Jammy dodgers with heart-shaped windows
Are shared by Norma and Dierdre
Receiving bouquets of babbies in bonnets,
Children gathered
to see their great nannies.
And by the window looking out,
Connie,
For whom standards never slip,
In wig, pearls, red lip,
Takes the Florentine of glamour.
Young Shannon turns in awe to Beryl asking,
“How do you remember who has what?”
Beryl smiles, and with mock curtsy,
She blushes
“What am I to say?
It's like I have a gift.”
The sweet Megan Markle had that bright sparkle
for she landed herself a true prince
Our dear handsome Harry, was never contrary
But the Queen he had to convince
All Britain is fawning, this is a new dawning
for actress turned royal brings fame
the coffers are filling, and tourism's thrilling
The Duke and the Duchess are game
The wedding's now history, no longer a myst'ry
the world watched each detail in awe
this couple got hitched as each lose thread got stitched
There was not a single guffaw
Traditions respected, through some circumvented
the bride added much to the day
A curtsy forgotten, does not make her rotten
Just strong willed as some critics say
Her dress was straight lined, demure and refined
the make-up was simple and sweet
Prince George and Charlotte, they made us all gloat
Their goodness must warrant a treat
I'm happy for Harry, he is a dear chappy
his smiles tell the world all is well
the pre-wedding drama, that long pause or comma
forgotten, for now all is swell
So the 19th of May was quite a big day
It showed fairy tales still come true
Now young ladies know, to put beauty on show
The next story could be about you.
Eileen Manassian
devastatingly, grievously, inconsolably,
got hexed, issued jilted livingsocial, a less
son learned to late, how maddeningly mess
say yon nick lee infuriated, not accepting press
sing ill fate, nor countenancing fatal injustice,
refusing to curtsy fiendish inxs did piss
her off (poisoned scorpion sting) remiss
cheekily peppering psyche as if Swiss
cheese, a once spunky Arthur Murray shored
dance instructor, who scored
door prize in the guise of thee less torte sured
near nonagenarian papa, where meanness poured
from grim mortal outlook parlayed moored
deadly reaper, quashed, ruined as lord
stole, sacred maternal tribal nurse, unfairly did hoard
final precious seconds unexpectedly meant un explored
positive rapport forever undergirded "door"
closed to resolve ambivalence with venerable bead
did association between
kith and kin, unfairly
dead poet society lettered deed
wrested a vibrant life despite zest that freed
a vibrant gal to coast along dialed up esprit
de corps spirit to live, yet greed
of metastatic cancer upended lead,
where mind over matter, sans power
in positive thinking rubric and plead
ding didst kill last ditch homeopathic screed
ambitions trumped, thus giving up the ghost
wracking sadness, sinking sorrow spilling most
lee tears of loss, among family, fellow Unitarians
of the Thomas Paine Fellowship
included with your obituary post.
As I amble along, a trance me shakes
an immense silence, I fear, my tread wakes
A respite from angst in an oasis of rarity
my stroll in timelessness and spirituality
A joy of mind dancing in thrill and ecstasy
lulling my soul into a winsome reverie
Forget me nots calling for vernal breeze
heartseases blooming, poundering throbs I seize
Love in a Mist promising a golden summer
a stunning pallet! a peerless paintbrush to colour
Morning glories, beauty and forbearance
flowering souls, no void and time for abhorrence
Marguerite Daisies dropping a curtsy to shiny sun
a night retreat, then paths of charm to run
One rare of gems from The Master of the Universe
poets ever carving its ineffable beauty in verse
Artists blend their appealing hues and rising perceptions
a work of Art of emotional power and pure impressions
Beholding in awe and gratitude such a bliss
many of God's grace and blessings I miss.
Along a shady mangrove through glens of green,
I romp around, the air teasing my curly hair;
And in a dash , a tiny fowl softly rattles life’s movements:
Harkening, harkening as its emerald crown bops
Much like the wave of rippled ponds… and I
gaze at this divinity of nature, her own secrecy.
Lush emerald wings flutter beside me
As if to trade stories of the life we own,
That my feet prance about beneath an olive sky
Gently weaving upon jade grasses on a mound…
This kingfisher warbles along tunes of joy and angst
Until the olive- varnished trees bow to us.
I somehow curtsy wondering how a birdsong’s trill
Can hush the mangrove, the entire glen;
All harkening in noble silence, undefined by night’s pose
While agate eyes of a kingfisher mirrors my own dreams,
A lady with cilantro feathers tinged with angst and joy
Drooling a canticle of solace…
as the bird roams far off into the late, late duskfall.
United Colors: Green, Contest for Silent One
3/ 03/ 2016
I curtsy to say may he allow me one last dance
At the end of my play, at the end of my last day.
A celebration of life, mine, in due time.
When soon but no one knows absolutely when
Do they? Perhaps, he does.
Covering the Earth as the shadow of Life
Lurking everywhere in between rebirth.
Always on alert for something to become dirt.
Soil is his soul. Shadows, his coal.
He needs no black robe nor a scythe,
He has no bloody body nor real eyes.
He shovels lots of it, everywhere, all the time.
He expects no bows when the curtain calls
All prayers go unanswered, perhaps just simply ignored.
When the time comes, he does his job.
He transcends them upstairs, or casts them down below
Complacently, he doesn’t really care about high or low
Me or you or anything at all, as long as he just does his job.
It must be important,
Life seems to depend on it.