Long Flounces Poems
Long Flounces Poems. Below are the most popular long Flounces by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flounces poems by poem length and keyword.
Winds
raged as
fires glowed in
small frowzy shacks
that strange Georgia eve an angel was born.
The sky proclaimed that lives would re-arrange;
with Joy’s first cry,
the tempest
changed to
calm.
Warm
Zephyr -
spring magic -
arrived with Joy.
Her laughter was kindling for hearth and home.
No galas in her future ; she was poor.
Never frowning,
Joy would flash
diamond
smiles.
Her
Mama
sewed flounces
on hand-me-downs,
which Joy wore with glee, celebrating life.
As Papa played his guitar for them all,
Joy danced and twirled.
Humdrum fled
in her
stead.
Fair,
yellow-
haired; slender
like sassafras,
this sunny lass gladdened all of the town.
Humankind exists that we might have joy.
Those touched by that
sweet angel
all learned
this.
Joy
expelled
gloom, giving
her cheer to all.
Nevertheless, joy is often short-lived.
One strange spring day, a cold wind blew in. As
thunder quaked, warmth
waned, and Joy
was no
more.
For Chris D. Aechtner's
"Double the Fun ~ (Tetractys)"
N ow as I am gazing through the tunnel I see light
E ach day getting brighter before the darkness of the night
W ith spring around the corner she is bursting to ignite
B lossoms dressed in frills and flounces ready to display
E xquisite and excited for their very special day
G loriously adorned awaiting to impress
I s it nearly time they ask ~ for today they look their best
N ature has awakened from her annual winter slumber
N ew and vibrant hues they don now winters truly gone
I really love the spring time it’s my favourite time of year
N ow we truly need this boost for to banish all our fear
G ood news breaks as we begin to vaccinate the nation
S o happy to get our lives back ~ spring starts our celebration
Written 5th February 2021
Contest NEW BEGINNINGS
Sponsor John Hamilton
4TH PLACE
Contest ALL YOURS (Feb7)
Sponsor Brian Strand
Marriage – our commitment for LIFE as husband and wife
It wasn’t a leap year when I proposed to you
But I'd got down on one knee, as it’s traditional to do!
We organised and paid for our own wedding day
This meant we had control and could do it ‘our' way
We got married two years to the day from our very first date
Both of us bubbling over with excitement, we just couldn’t wait
My hair was perfect, make up and manicure too
I wanted to look absolutely beautiful for you
The dress was of pretty peach, not a formal wedding dress
I’m not one for fussy frills and flounces I must confess
You wore a charcoal coloured suit and looked so very smart
Our vows committed us forever – I love you with all my heart
After our registry office ceremony we had a lovely meal
A carvery for close family and friends, the venue was ideal
We held a huge party for 300 guests later on that night
Our wedding day was perfect everything turned out right
The wedding night was spent at a beautiful local hotel
On learning it was our wedding day they really did excel
They upgraded us free of charge to their honeymoon suite
With champagne and chocolates and fresh fruit to eat
Edited and submitted to love poem contest
Sponsored by Heidi Sands
Contest My Wedding Day
Sponsor Olive Eloisa Guillermo
02~25~16
Lucinda dressed up in her fanciest bluest most satiny dress.
It had flounces and ruffles, creases that gave her a caress.
She was in her party finery, sitting still, waiting for her guest.
Her collie, Labrador and Scotty dog gave barking a small rest.
They will be here any second, she assured her puppy friends.
The doggy brigade sat patiently, doing cartwheels and knee bends.
Lucinda was disappointed, for no humans appeared that day.
Each had an excuse about why they had to go away.
It’s those dogs, her mother said. No one wants to be around them.
Lucinda did not understand this, so she spoke to cousin Clem.
Your pups don’t like us, he told her. They only like one person – you.
No one wants to eat with dogs, it makes us nervous, Lu.
Who is under that hat we wondered as she disembarked.
I had never seen such a contraption that was so not easily parked.
It was feathered and fluffed, with flounces that said United Nation.
Had a mind of its own, this glorious concoction, fabulous creation.
We could not see her face, but I knew she would be a famous someone.
Kind of a hat that would not be easily dissuaded. It turned to the sun.
Soaking up the rays at that bandstand, as we watched our children play.
I tried to see the woman’s face, but it was under a veil of lace that day.
She was a mystery woman, in the best hat we had ever seen in July.
It shaded her completely, as we watched fireworks in the sky.
She climbed back in her limo and was whisked away at midnight.
We waved to her and her glorious hat until they disappeared!
Joyful red, yellow, pink, orange, green, purple, silver and blue.
I am looking at the drops and dollops of beautiful paint, pretty too.
On my hands, lots of places, especially at the tip.
I am a messy painter, and I love the flounces and the flip.
I sometimes forget how much it sooths me, that is when I get sad.
I sometimes sit in a chair, playing word games for six hours.
That is when I get morose, and angry, and mean and mad.
I sometimes forget I am an outsider. I forget my flowers.
Word play is terrific, for it takes me into new worlds,
But painting. Ah! That is where I truly find my little girl self.
The one who almost never painted, because I do not know why.
Maybe it was easier then to keep my elf soul on a shelf.
Maybe it was not okay yet to be me. I know I was sad.
Because I had not found painting or poetry, but now I am glad.
Staring at my colors, painting from August to September.
Feeling in touch with my soul self, exuberant when I remember…
I am a painter
A poet
A cartoonist
A creator
A gardener
And it is more than okay.
Fiddle Dee Dee Scarlet says when asked to nap with the other girls
I want to party she argues, dancing with her feet, her hair in curls
She sneaks down to where the men are and takes Ashley off
Expressing her love which is rebuffed, she hears a man’s cough.
It is that renegade, Rhett Butler, who is a scoundrel and a scamp.
You are no gentleman sir she says, and flounces off in a stamp.
Rhett is immediately smitten, and decides to woo this little pretty.
The Yankees are coming, Civil War is taking a toll on Atlanta’s city.
Belle from the brothel gives money to Melanie for the troops.
Melanie is Ashley's wife; she, takes it with appreciation, no hoops.
Scarlet marries sister’s beau, Mr. Kennedy when she sees he is rich.
Scarlet is truly a conniving, self-centered, diabolical b……
Gone with the Wind has humor and laughter and heartache galore.
I would ask that you read it yourself before I spoil it by telling you more
Nyla has a style all her own, she flings and flounces.
She whirls a truth others do not understand or know.
I am gob-smacked by her confidence and her determination
I know you do not get your flair from you mother, I say.
From where does this inner delight originate?
Nyla laughs that super nova laugh.
My grandmother was a Broadway star, she says.
She gets out photos, and we ooh and ahh over them.
I wish you could have known her, I tell her.
I do know her. She used to visit me in my dreams,
and she was my so-called imaginary friend when I was four.
What do you mean so-called?
My mother could not see her, so she called her that.
We used to laugh about it, grandma and me.
Now I’m Yorkshire peasant stock
I sup ale instead of drinking wine
And I tend to nosh my scranny
Not sit down proper and dine
There’s a restaurant down our street
Not really for the likes of me
Attendants to park all cars
And it’s a la carte you see;
But some times we eat there,
For the odd special deals
Like two for one offer
Or discount on eaten meals.
One of the things I like there;
And I like it quite a lot
Is one of the restaurant staff
That I call Mr Pepper Pot.
He patrols the place.
He’s never ever still,
And he carries in his hand
A huge wood pepper mill
As soon as the food is served
He pops up and he’s there
Very quietly asking all
Some pepper, madam? sir?
He knows I am just a peasant
One of those really born to serve
Knows I’d like to answer no
But I just don’t have the nerve;
And with a flick of the wrist
He’s ground and served the stuff
Then standing back proudly
Asks has sir, madam got enough?
Now the speaking of those words
Is really just breath wasted
Because he’s up and off before
Any meal has been tasted
But I suppose its consideration
That the restaurant can see
Seasoning of food is too importamt
To be left to an oaf like me
Off he flounces down the room,
Such a feeling of release.
And I know there’s a chance
I can eat my meal in peace.
Oh I admire my Mr Pepperpot.
For his energy and charm.
And he rules that restaurant
With skill of wrist and arm.
Sometimes in my fantasies
Though I don’t fantasise a lot
I dream I am in that restaurant;
As the New Mr Pepper Pot.
‘cos I’m Yorkshire peasant stock
I sup ale instead of drinking wine
And I tend to nosh my scranny
Not sit down proper and dine
I listen to the screaming, squabbling, slapping and the slamming
I am perched on the edge of their couch as a non-honored guest,
Refusing to buy into their circus.
A child rolls on my feet but I refuse to react.
Someone throws a book through the air.
It lands with a loud plop six centimeters to my right.
I take a dainty swig of peach tea because I cannot
find these people’s liquor
Stomping now ensues.
Slamming and screaming.
One of the monkeys begins wailing.
Three hours of watching the “children” has felt like three months.
I roll my eyes, and turn the TV up to drown out their circus.
My prissy stuck-up daughter flounces in
wearing sixteen clothing store bags.
She begins to chastise me.
Have they had lunch?
Did I put the extra sauce on their pizza?
They are five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, and twenty.
Not my circus, not my monkeys, I tell her.
I could not figure out her stuck-up confection oven actually.
Feel guilty? Not hardly. This is her circus. These are her monkeys
She is the one who had fifteen children
I rarely come here
Now I remember why
Did Sally slap Billy? She asks me
How the heck would I know?
I am just trying to enjoy my peach tea
I get up, collect my purse, and kiss her good bye
I mean really kiss her good bye.
Now that the CV19 virus has kicked in I am under curfew.
I could get jailed for six months or have to pay a huge fine
for going outside my own three ring circus.
I have to stay in my own rings.
Away from her monkeys