Long Doilies Poems
Long Doilies Poems. Below are the most popular long Doilies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Doilies poems by poem length and keyword.
God Save the King! So echoed round
the village halls, the pubs, the streets
the day our Charlie Prince was crowned.
Homes decked with bunting, cake, and treats.
We celebrated with a rave,
or knees-up, as my grandma said;
with piped music via short-wave.
At two pm, it went ahead.
They closed the street the coppers did.
Then out came tables, plates, and chairs
lace runners, doilies, too, amid
assorted china tablewares.
The caravans and four-by-fours
were parked elsewhere to clear the way,
they even shut the local stores
and closed the schools, hip hip, hooray!
Outside of number seventeen,
twixt the sausage rolls and jelly,
rested a crocheted King and Queen
removed from atop the telly.
Not to be beat, at twenty-two,
they placed a lifesize photo out;
which overlooked the cheese fondue,
soused herrings, and some sauerkraut.
Betty and May sang old-time songs
atop a shaky stage, arrayed
with bunting; made from their spare thongs;
while Ruth, the ukelele, played.
The Aussies were there, well, on screen.
Bobby, Kenny, and Aunt Maud too
to toast the King and mourn the Queen
with tea (and a tinny or two!)
Simon and Peter went all out,
made a spread called L G B tea;
with brightly coloured cakes throughout.
Open to all, as it should be!
Douglas and Rex from forty-eight
sat with Lil as she won her prize;
for the most original plate,
coronation jerk shrimp surprise.
Prizes too for best-dressed table,
front door, and garden gate, won by
Teddy, Fred, and Aunty Mable;
all well-deserved, we can't deny.
Captain Brett (self -titled we think)
gave a roaring one-gun salute
sporting a coat of dazzling pink
over his Royal Navy suit.
Thalis, made by Shrimati Nath,
were such a delicious hit they
caused a queue up her garden path.
(They paired well with Andre's Cabernet.)
We kids, long past our sugar high,
so full of cake, shrimp, nans, and stuff,
were told to say a quick goodbye;
we'd been awake quite long enough.
As the sun set on our nation,
Old Fionn Byrne began to sing,
a joyful amalgamation;
Danny Boy and God Save the King!
BEING FITTED FOR MY MURDER WAS LIKE ANY OTHER DRESS FITTING WHEN I WAS LITTLE THE TAILOR SHOP WAS ALWAYS EMPTY AWAITING MY PERSONAL FITTING MY POP WENT FIRST WATCHED THE SEAMTRESS CAREFULLY MEASURE HIS ARMS AND COLLARS I WOULD GET THE LOLLIPOPS ON THE STRING CROSS MY LEGS AND WAIT FOR MY TURN MY IRISH AUNT WOULD PLACE THE PINS IN THE LACE FABRIC PEARLY WHITE BUTTONS I OFTEN ASK WHY IS SHE DRESSING ME IN CURTAINS DOILIES MY NONNA WOULD CHUCKLE HARDILY SHE LOVED THIS PLACE SHE AND MY AUNT WERE SISTER ITALIAN IRISH BELLAS THERE WAS ME SPOILED ROTTEN SIMPLY BECAUSE I LISTENED TO EVERY ELDER SPEAKING OUT OF SHEER REPECT FOR MY ELDERS THAT'S HIW IT WAS THAT'S HOW IT IS THAT'S WHY MY MURDER FITTING HAD TO BE PERFECT THE VERY SHORT ANGRY OLD GUY STANDING BY THE SEABURG I DROP MY QUARTERS IN MY SONG BEGANS TO PLAY AIN'T NOBODY BY CHAKA KHAN I DANCED IN A VERY LOVELY MAUVE DRESS HE WATCHED WITH HIS HANDS I KNEW HE DESIRED ME BUT WHY IT WAS BECAUSE I'D WITNESSED THE ULTIMATE MURDER PLOT BEING COVERED UP BY CITY OFFICIALS I WATCHED THE LITTLE GUY PAY OFF OFFICERS STILL IN PATROL CARS I WORE WIRES PREGNANT FOR THE FBI BUYING WEAPONS AND DRUGS FROM JUNK SICK COPS SELLING DRUGS FOR THE LITTLE GUY SIMPLY BECAUSE THE FBI WARNED HE MURDERED ELDERLY PEOPLE IN A BLAZE CHRISTMAS DAY NOW HERE I STAND EXPOSED BEING FITTED FOR MURDER COMMOTION HORRIR TERROR AWAITS I PLAY MY FAVORITE SONG AND DANCE TO THE RYTHMN OF MURDER NOT ANY MURDER MY MURDER THE GRUELSOME COVER UP ASK FOR THIS DANCE I HESITATE BUT THINKS WHAT DO I HAVE TO LOSE THIS IS MY MURDER FITTING SO I DANCED WITH THE COMMISIONER SHOCKING THE LITTLE GUY EXPLODES HE IS ACTUALLY JEALOUS HIS EYE SQUINT HE FLICKS THE ASHES FROM HIS CIGARETTE THE ASH MAKING A LOUD CRASH TO THE FLOOR SILENCE ABODE THE GUNMAN AIMS SNIPER ON THE ROOF HE PULLS THE TRIGGER I FALL THE LITTLE GUY YELLS I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO ACTUALLY KILL HER WHAT HAVE YOU DONE SHE'S THE LOVE OF MY LIFE THE CROWD STANDS APPLAUDING HIS GRAND PERFORMANCE THE GUNMAN SAYS BUT BOSS YOU SAID SHOOT THE LITTLE GUYS DROPS HIS HEAD SOBBING I MEANT WITH A CAMERA YOU IDIOT NOW SHE'S GONE I LOVED HER TO DEATH THAT DRESS IS SO BEAUTIFUL ON HER
No time for coffee, as the dawn arrives....
I raised the shade. The crowd's outside!
The mob takes over...I'm still in slippers
But someone bought our old hedge clippers!!
Those folks just paid me a ton of money!!
I could use some help..........Hey! Where's my honey??
I swear...if he went back to take a nap
I'll sell his priceless baseball cap!!
Oh! They are looking at that wobbly table....
"I'll help you load it, Miss, if I'm able!"
She grabs dog-eared, dusty, vintage books
And one old crock-pot that still cooks!
I show her some doilies, and a ragged Barbie
And a costume for her Halloween parties?
A rusty shovel, and a dented bucket
And a fishing pole from old Nantucket
I'm selling Ma's old apron, and some broken dishes
A chipped glass bowl for all her fishes
Aunt Edna's ugly painting, and her candle holders
She lives down the street....hope no one told her!!!
One old bike for exercising
Doesn't work....it's not surprising!
"What's the point?" our husbands mutter
While we fill the garage with all this clutter
I explain to him..."She buys mine, and I buy hers"
"Then, we won't need to shop the stores!!"
"Dear...don't you know the grass is greener?"
"OH LOOK!" "That couple bought my vacuum cleaner!"
Just then I point across the street!!
Another yard sale.....and we both shriek!!
He points at me and shakes his fist
But I'll just ignore and toss a kiss
And side by side I'm in a race...
Who gets there first will buy that vase!!
Whoopee!!! I spy a broken chair...
That other shopper gives a glare!
So what it's broken? Well, I can glue it!
Just hope she doesn't beat me to it!
The point I'm making is simply this
This neighbor's junk became my bliss!
_______________________________________
For Skat's Yard Sale Contest:
May is my happy month, for she is my birth month
Some people treat themselves with a birthday.
I made the decision to celebrate my birth month
And I do. I buy whatever I want. Packages arrive daily.
Lilac trees, snowball trees, red hot rose bushes,
hot pink geraniums, fiery gold marigolds, things to plant.
Earth therapy is my favorite sport, and May is the perfect time
to plant; my yard is a living park, oozing beauty in all directions
I go through lots of birdseed in May; heavy, so I order it online.
It calls cardinals, blue jays, wrens, sparrows, into the yard
They serenade me with lovely tweets, chirps, peeps, and whees.
They sing their happiness with May daily.
May, when rains finally stop, and sun comes out full force
The amount of vitamin D she puts into the air perks people up.
School ends, and you hear giggles and laughter of children
As they spend their days biking to each other’s homes,
happy to be free.
May starts out fancy with May Day.
A day small town children make May baskets.
Filling them with violets and dandelions, popcorn,
and caramel candies, placed on top of lacy doilies.
Delighting unsuspecting neighbors, left on doorsteps,
as if May faeries have arrived, and they have.
My birthday is the last day of May,
when we celebrate our Veterans in Memorial Day parades.
May is an adventure all to herself,
unique in the amount of joy and
enthusiasm she brings to the calendar.
Delighting and exciting us, May dances and prances pure joy..
There is no other month that can touch her enthusiasm
although June comes close
As June is the wedding month.
Wait. Graduations, dance recitals, and proms are in May.
Three more reasons why May is the Queen of Happiness,
Who remembers, is it only me?
When March had drizzled, and April fooled us...
But a morning in the month of May.........
We'd spread upon a kitchen table
Paste made of flour, scissors, borrowed
paper, crayons of rainbow colors
Pretty paper doilies and….
Mama letting little hands
Create surprises, of cone shaped fans…
The memory shrugs so many years
Where innocence, was cut and shaped
Into bright-sprigged paper cones
Accomplishments, each of our own
On May the first, a small bouquet
We would rehearse, a verse to say
To spread come spring, then run away
Then quickly running out the door
To pick spring beauties, one by one
Fresh Lillies of the Valley, wildwood fern,
Gathering them, heavy on their stems
Sweet and fresh as morning dew,
So filled with springtime, filled with bloom
Then paper cones were flower filled
Small bouquets of sweet perfume
Then down the dusty road we trudged
Side by side, with grins of pride
No greater pleasure as a child
The thought of bringing someone smiles
On May the first, a small bouquet
We would rehearse, a verse to say
To spread come spring, then run away
Timid knocking on a door
“Surprise...Surprise! Look what’s in store!”
Our little legs now running fast,
And down the road, quite out of breath
Behind a tree, where we would hide
And watch them find this flower prize
Must not....get caught.....must not get caught!
And we were taught
That bringing gifts to make them sigh
Was worth a lot !! Was worth the thought
A thoughtful way to light their eyes
On May the first, a small bouquet
We would rehearse, a verse to say
To spread come spring, then run away
_________________________________________________________
2/19/14
A March unstable, April drizzles
At last, now dawns the month of May........
Children gather 'round a table
Making paste of flour, water,
guidance from a loving mother
with pictures drawn in rainbow colors
Pretty paper doilies landed
In the hands of lassies, laddies
Creating prizes, cone shaped fans…
Then, quickly running out the door
To pick spring beauties, one by one
Fresh lilies of the greenest valley,
wild wood fern, and yellow dahlias
Gathering the dew-kissed stems
Sweet and fresh as dawn begins
Filled with springtime, fresh with bloom
Innocence, was cut and honed
Into bright-sprigged paper cones
Accomplishments, each one to own
On May the first, each small bouquet
Ready with the vast array
Of blossoms from the pasture flowers
softly fragrant, gifts of meadows
The paper cones were flower filled
Small bouquets of sweet perfume
Then down the dusty road they trudged
Side by side, with grins of pride
No greater pleasure as a child
The thought of bringing someone smiles
Timid knocking on a door
“Surprise...Surprise! Look what’s in store!”
The little legs now running fast,
And down the road, quite out of breath
Behind a tree, where they would hide
And watch them find this flower prize
Must not....get caught.....must not get caught!
And always they were taught
That bringing gifts to make them sigh
Was worth a lot ..so worth the thought
A thoughtful way to light one's eyes
On May the first, with small bouquets
they would rehearse, a verse to say
To spread come spring, then run away
____________________________________
Submitted for Isaiah's Contest: THE FIRST OF MAY
4/25/15
Men in tailored suits
and satin waistcoats,
gold watches peeking
out of their pockets,
walked arm in arm
with women in wide skirts ~
hooped,
crinolined,
elegantly sculpted.
Their tight corsets tease each careful traipse,
leaving traces of elegance and opulence...
dotting the streets at Christmastime
with exaggerated silhouettes.
They kissed under mistletoe ~
hung in doorways,
each kiss claiming a berry
until none were left.
Saliva dried from whispered promises,
and crisper breaths.
When mouths moistened anew,
their laughter spilled under winter's sun,
burning with the thrill
of ice-skating parties.
Half-empty plates of Christmas pudding,
roast meats and other festive dishes —
littered Victorian tables,
attesting to well-fed tummies
and indulgent hearts.
Back home, the evening evened
with silent acting charades,
Blind Man's Bluff, Forfeits, and Snapdragon.
Pass the Slipper, Piggy Squeak, and Hunt the Ring ~
played near wood-burning fireplaces,
transformed by Christmas
into coziness, family warmth
and seasonal magic.
Christmas trees stood adorned,
strategically placed
to frisk each risk of its sly trick
that might sneak out
to steal away their joy.
When the gift boxes were opened,
the fiancé received
smoking caps,
shaving soaps,
and tobacco pouches.
The fiancée unwrapped
doilies,
silver tea balls,
and tea strainers ~
simple treasures exchanged
beneath candlelit ceilings
in that age of elegance,
where laughter and love lingered long,
like the scent of pine needles and roast goose,
long after Christmas Day had passed.
" One man's junk is another man's treasure" - author unknown
To some, old collectables and antiques are nothing but junk,
even heirlooms kept safely in their grandmother’s old trunk.
They say antiques sales are diminishing and not as popular today,
but I believe antique collecting is still an interest and here to stay.
It’s fun to go antiquing on the weekends for old forgotten treasures,
buying trinkets to discover their provenances by researched measures.
Exciting to imagine the energy and stories the antiques may hold,
and delightful when finding collections of history so rare and old.
An old empty apothecary bottle that once held medicine to treat the flu,
or helped saved the life of a sick family's toddler when he was only two.
The old handmade quilts and lace doilies that are now dull and faded,
some kept as cherished family gifts and some bartered and traded.
The beautiful Currier and Ives fruit print I found today for sale,
with foxing and colors not as vibrant and some getting pale.
I wonder the story it holds, was it in a mansion or a small home,
displayed as a collection of art or in a shack on the wall alone?
Garage sales are popular places today to find antiques and old junk,
seeing the large number of people who stop can’t be debunked.
Antique collecting is here to stay and will regain popularity,
and still exciting when finding a treasure that is a known rarity!
3/4/23
Contest: Writing Challenge -" J " words Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
She came from that special tribe of women
whose hands have six fingers each.
Fingers that appear a blur of agitation
chattering amongst themselves
in a language I could never understand.
9th Row: * Yo, K1, yo, sl 1, K1, psso, K13, K2tog, yo, K1, yo,
K2 tog, K2 (yo) twice, K2, K2tog; repeat from * all round.
As a child I watched
as her architecture exploded
in rhythm and rhyme,
my eyes dazzled with reflections
of their ceaseless motion.
I thought of spiders spinning webs,
of clouds delivering snowflakes made
of white unfolding tapestries.
It was living art,
breathing from an inward rhythm,
gaining life before my eyes.
Her fingers, ten of flesh
and two of bone,
like fencing masters
parry- thrusting patterns in the air.
long bones bobbing, weaving,
nearly, neatly, kissing, then retreating,
fast as fighter jets leaving contrails
of air and finery behind,
kissing the air,
to leave each slender thread embraced,
membranes laced
with love and intuition.
Doilies brought to fruition
with loving hands;
her many fingers moving,
proving themselves
over and over
in secret patterns surging,
revealing their purpose
merging crocheted gifts
of adept urging.
Breathing life
to limp and simple strings
with all the love
that her attention brings.
Gifts brought to a world
made better
by hands and willing heart.
Hands that held six fingers each
and turned her sacred language into art.
Shrunken sweaters, dusty ball caps
Tarnished silver, and hedge clippers
Pointed hat pins, gaudy jewelry
Faded jeans and worn out slippers
Greasy fry pan, wobbly table
Crates of dog-eared musty books
Tattered doilies, ragged Barbies
One brown old crock pot that still cooks
Rusty shovel, dented buckets
Ma's old apron, broken dishes
Dated calendar, crooked lampshade
Chipped glass bowl for all your fishes
Ugly painting, candle holders
One old bike for exercising
Broken TV, toaster oven
Doesn't work....it's not surprising!
What's the point?" our husbands mutter
While we fill the garage with clutter
I explain to him..."She buys mine, and I buy hers"
"What's the point of shopping stores??!"
"Now...don't you know the grass is greener?"
"OH GOOD!" "She's bought my vacuum cleaner!"
Just then I point across the street!!
Another yard sale.....and we both shriek!!
He points at me and shakes his fist
But I'll just ignore and toss a kiss
And side by side I'm in a race...
Who gets there first will buy that vase!!
Whoopee!!! I spy a broken chair...well, I can glue it!
Just hope she doesn't beat me to it!
Another point about my purchase
Perhaps I can use it for another purpose
Oh No!!...he's found old tool collections!!
And points at them with great affection!!
The point I'm making is simply this
Another's person's trash or junk, may soon become your bliss!