Long Debutante Poems
Long Debutante Poems. Below are the most popular long Debutante by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Debutante poems by poem length and keyword.
What's new with me...Matthew?
Well for starters Nationwide
road service emergency
one man cutting crew
with battery charger in tow knew
exactly why no juice (think electricity),
his hunch found trunk light kept lit,
an innocent looking (to me or you)
lady's handbag accouterment,
fifty shades of blue
stuck out just enough did cue
automotive technician, who
witnessed yours truly flapping
imaginary wings (think) cuckoo
unwittingly, irretrievably, and
admirably lost me scant sanity true
"fake" news I trumpet as a gentile Jew...
Just in time for men
rhythmically singing, melodiously
acapella harmonizing huzzah olé
in white coats besotted and
bespattered with vegetable puree
to take me away
ho-ho hee-hee ha-haaa
hip...hip... hooray
to the funny farm yea,
where life beautiful every day
and skies fifty shades of gray...
Thus, the reason I type pell mell
(think hunt and peck),
an inner madness to quell,
while hermetically locked in padded cell
shut airtight like... a citadel
which soundproof environment hell
lava hot improvement versus dwell
ling with volcanic spouse, and well
equipped to nurture solitude, ah... nobody,
but me and Matty mattel
both of us undergoing re education
initiated courtesy crack atop
noggin tinnitus subsequently
experiencing ringing like liberty bell
afterwards undergoing gender reassignment
clearly yours truly exuded effeminate spell
not recognizing only muttering to himself
fancifully dolled up
as debutante mademoiselle,
and appearing sitting pretty I willingly tell.
Twas glorious occasion regarding
miracles of modern medicine to sing
namely routine engineered
sex change, bitty bing
bitty bang minus one
minor glitch really... nothing
but doggone veteran (aery) surgeon
pulled off bone huff eyed gracefully amazing
stunt at my expense unwittingly injecting
canine female hormonal secretions,
hence I find myself barking, ing
and strong desire burning
to frequent fire hydrants.
Q: Who is the current Chief of Staff?
A: The resident President.
Q: What is an old, lame, deaf, half-blind Sherlock Holmes?
A: A defective detective.
Q: Who is the magician who ate all the pasta when no one was looking?
A: The linguini Houdini.
Q: What is a day in the life depiction of the First Family on view in the rotunda of the White House?
A: An Obama diorama.
Q: What is a doctor who operates on a big fish to remove the roe?
A: A sturgeon surgeon.
Q: What disease did the star of "Veep" get from drinking unbottled water when she was in India?
A: Julia Louis-Dreyfus typhus.
Q: What is a debutante dance for snakes, alligators, etc.?
A: A reptilian cotillion.
Q: How do people in third-world countries view America's "open door" policy?
A: As an immigration invitation.
Q: Selfridge's was a fine example of what kind of department store?
A: A Victorian emporium.
Q: Where would you be if you found yourself trapped between this world and another?
A: In dimension suspension.
Form:
Your ship will sink and your star will fall
So you'd better be prepared
I hope you're well seated when you hit that wall
And the spotlight dims its glare
You step from your car like a debutante
You have everything you could ever want
Have you stopped to consider the ones you snub
Are the ones that have put you there?
The diamond bracelet on your wrist
That accentuates your tan
Rakes the rocks across your skin
As you "shoo" away your fans
You've got more wealth than you could ever spend
But ya don't seem to have it when ya hear from a friend
And ya "won't be signing any autographs"
At the festival de Cannes
You must be aware that you're gettin' old
And ya bore the paparazzi (or so I'm told)
It's a pity your grace can't act for you
As well as your ego can.
Form:
Woman.
I want you with or without
lipstick on the mouth.
With debutante breasts
or middle-aged,
housewife, of
militant...
I want you with your eyes,
of Chinese,
Arab or
almond Brazilian...
With your body
of fruit tree,
your flower hair
so wild....
I want you with your skin
black
white,
yellowish
I want you with your
thin waist,
or pestle, even
rounded...
With your butt
dry or upturned ...
With your countenance
strong but sensible,
or suitable
experienced boss,
or childish manner ...
I want your body
of mountain that I love
climb up, I want you
with fantasy visions
or full of real images.
I love you and I want you.
shining, conquering,
being respected
With a generous smile
on the lips and doing
with elegant fingers a
Victory V ...!
***********
Dancing with shadows in my room, dispels all
specters of gloom.
I envision the young Panagiota,in tulle ballet gown.
Bowing gracefully to her audience.
Oh, my how she made young men swoon.
At sixteen,lovely, nervous, her ballgown of sequins,
satin, lace and white.
Bowing to an audience, holding long scarlet stem roses,
on her special debutante night.
Years later, I see her learning belly dancing in Greek town,
on a lit stage.
"Always do something new"' was engraved on the top of her
lfe’s daily, exciting page!
She could never be still and sit quietly on any chair!
If a dance floor were ready..you can count in it, Panagiota's
feet imnediatelly would be there.
Between dancing, for Panagiota, there is always soul-love!
So sacred, so intimate, so unique..
Her heart rhythmic, yet soft as a young turtle dove's.
11/1/2024 Poem 3
Her hands don't feel like satin,
she's been working since she was a child.
Never was a pure white angel,
she was always a little wild.
She can fight like a man,
but loves like a woman.
Some people say she's a blessing,
others say she was a bad omen.
Never was suited,
for the debutante ball,
She liked the honky tonks
or a smokey pool hall.
She had to learn too early,
how to throw a punch,
the only girl child,
And the meanest one of the bunch.
She has been hurt and mistreated
from the very start.
But somehow she managed,
to keep a good heart.
Still holds faith
that there's some good in this world.
And there's a place, in a heart,
for a tomboy girl.
12/7/2023
No more am I your sweet little girl...
I am far past, brown braids and curls.
No shopping now for dolls and toys,
Remember when I first liked boys?
You drove me to and from school each day.
It was not close but a distance away.
You made sure my Mary Janes were clean.
I wear gold ones now, that happily gleam.
Daddy, you sent me to top schools only.
I learned God’s law, to never be phony.
You taught me top notch manners ,too.
We had raucous fun at Brookfield Zoo.
You also presented me as a debutante.
In your tails, Daddy you were so gallant!
In long sequined gown, and white gloves.
You and I waltzed as most graceful doves.
You later, fell in love with my baby girl.
Cradling her in your arms. like a precious pearl.
Your grandson, Edward, you never met.
But he is named after, you, true kismet.
My friends and I you treated like petite queens.
Presents were a welcomed, year-round happening.
And now, Daddy, I find myself as old as you.
But ‘tis not a thing that I rue but just verily true.
I will drive to meet you at the Pearly Gates.
In your gift, the red convertible, what a fate!
A girl could not have had a better Dad!
One who loved her, with all in his heart, he had.
Merrty Christmas, Daddy,you raised me ridgt.
I wish I were in you lap, this very, wintry night!
Springtime, you always arrive so gently,
as high school proms bring tears of friends
who know they must soon part.
I will try not to weep of fifty-six years ago,
as I see the vision of my siblings,
and I leap through sprinklers bright
with rainbows,
I promise, Spring,
I won't cry.
Spring sonata of the bird's songs,
as I recall the natural wall of hydrangea
blossoms of mint and powder blue in
our backyard.
Royal young roses so blushed on
the white trellis.
The Good Humor truck jingled down
the street.
Neighbor's children waved large wands
with giant iridescent bubbles floating
aloft to the envy of the cumulus clouds.
Oh, springtide, you're our lively maiden
with a honeysuckle crown.
The presence of your rising moon monarch
in the eve casting her silver cherish on
weeping willows.
You sail through the ages,
but remain a debutante emerging from
the gray of winter's waning.
I promised springtime, I wouldn't cry,
but my tears are healing.
I dreamily walk by the modest little
home on the sidewalk,
the beloved place,
the streets of my youth,
spring sonata of my heart's song.
I'm in no need of my walker-
as I'm a child again. ~
TITANIC – A SCREEN PLAY
They say we’ve hit an iceberg
And the ship is going to sink.
But I refuse to believe it;
They’re over-reacting I think.
Don’t they read the papers?
Disaster is unthinkable.
The builders have assured us
This vessel is unsinkable,
But the drama all around me
And the constant to-and-frowing,
Have got me quite excited.
My creative juices are flowing.
So I’ve come back to my cabin,
For I’m inspired to write
A screen-play for the pictures,
All about this crazy night.
My heroine’s a debutante.
I think I’ll call her Rose.
She’s off to wed a rich man
Who she hardly even knows.
On board, she’ll meet the hero;
Jack can be his name.
He’s penniless, down in third-class
But she falls for him just the same..
As soon as they reach the USA,
They plan to run away.
Their lives will be a fairy tale,
Forever and a day.
I have so many great ideas
For developing the plot.
My film will make me famous.
And rich, as likely as not.
What’s this? There’s water pouring in.
The future’s looking grim.
It seems we’re sinking after all,
And I never learnt to swim.
So I’ll put my screen-play in the safe
And lock the thing away.
And hope some deep-sea diver,
Discovers in some day.
I’m not supposed to tell you
How much I care or even look
With envious longing at your lovely
Dark, debutante hair, falling
All ‘round your shoulders, neck and face;
I could be arrested and found guilty of
Wishing I could trace
The curves and lines of your
Body and mind merging
And converging into bliss;
It’s against the rules to play the fool
And wish for your sweet kiss. Never
The less, your sweet caress
Could lure me into sin;
I dare not tell a single soul
Lest I fall right in
Your arms opened wide
Like summer skies
And angels with outstretched wings;
But I’m not supposed to tell
How I feel about
These things.