Long Princesses Poems
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In one corner of my ancestral home~
Placidly stood an old sewing machine;
The golden emblem surrounded with chrome,
Now tarnished~ devoid of luster and sheen.
There my grandma used to stitch my garments,
From school uniforms to my doll's dresses;
Whilst I sit listening her fine statements,
Of Warrior Queens and Noble Princesses.
The echo of each laughter still lingers,
Like her last words when she bade adieu;
As she slipped the gold key through my fingers,
"This heirloom I give to no one but you!".
Then she finally closed her eyes with smile,
As I opened that machine ere awhile.
15 March 2021
Notes: Dedicated to my loving grandmom who passed away 2 decades ago.
For "I Remember Poetry Contest"
Sponsored by Malabika Ray Choudhury
I grump, I slump, I scowl, I'm in a mood
To judge, nitpick and be abruptly rude.
Skies heavy under clouds of concrete gray
Lost are the pinks and lavenders of May.
This winter has worn down my sunny cheer
A season's rain lasting throughout a year.
Manners abandoned as passive and prim
The strain on kinder spirits running grim.
I swallowed full this bitter appetite
Too eager for the apple's poisoned bite.
An ice stone lodges where my heart once bled
Frozen where human charity has fled.
Like princesses asleep in frosty tombs
I wait on kisses dropped from rosy blooms.
At last, a crack, a ringlet of green thaw
Renewal, like clover, fragile and raw.
A rise in warming skies by shifting blues
Outlines the sun's return in heathered hues.
The promise within rainbow spring relies
Upon the wings of snow white butterflies.
05/06/21
Rhyming Couplets contest
Sponsor: Janice Canerdy
The syllable count was verified on howmanysyllables.com
Halloween is a scream dressed in orange and black
A night of sneaky creeps that rattle and clack
Vampires conspire to send midnight bat attacks
Witches stirring cauldrons of potent purple snacks
Moonlit foggy streets filling with ghoulish packs
Of superheroes, princesses and lumberjacks
Cowboys with space toys and candy laden sacks
Evil clowns with smiles painted on out-of-whack
Hobos and gypsies from the wrong sides of the tracks
Mad hatters and kooky-eyed conspiracy quacks
Unlucky thirteens losing their crackerjacks
Curses from broken mirrors and stepped-on sidewalk cracks
Better give up the goodies if you don't want payback!
10/25/21
IV.
The tavern-keeper approached him swiftly
and handed him an identical mask,
said,”We wouldn’t let the bastards kill you,
but to escape we will have to act fast.
“We have horse waiting outside the wall,
and take this letter, it will help you out.
It introduces you to my brother,
the Bandit Chief known as ‘Iron’ Dunlow.
“He’s a thief only to king’s and their queens,
and in truth is a quite honorable man,
it’s only the corrupt who call him fiend,
and he always could us another hand.
“You’ll find his haunt in the far northern hills,
just go quick and don’t stop until you’re there,
no hero like you should die such a death,
if the king won’t, then the people will care.”
They hustled down to the looming front gate,
still manned by his friends in the garrison,
who conveniently turned their backs to all this,
later claiming that they had seen no one.
The horses sat nearby, both packed to move,
and up on one a slight figure did sit,
it was the bar wench, dressed up for travel,
for a moment Korlan didn’t believe it
She shrugged and said,”I needed a new scene,
and I never have traveled far from home,
besides, I think, saving so many souls,
that such a hero should not be alone.”
Weapons were pressed in Korlan’s big hands,
a sword, a shield, and two curved hunting bows,
he mounted his stead, gave the folks a nod,
and with a kick, off the couple did go.
The king never found out who did the deed,
though he ordered a large, exhaustive search,
despite all his power it seemed as if
the man Korlan had vanished from the Earth.
But such was his anger that he ordered
his troubadours to curve poor Korlan’s name,
laying on him the princesses passing,
despite the Hrethwite being truly to blame.
But if you go to the taverns of Magoss,
and drink ale until the hours are late,
you’ll he the folk sing of Korlan the Wrongs,
and how this true hero held the town gate.
Red sky
fades
inside ears
poised toward greening
non-violet ultra recommunions,
So, also
noncommunion ZeroZones
of red
against green,
So
also
red/green
non-violent mediation,
ego/ecotherapeutic,
So
also
red sky fades
inside green/blue
yintegral yang
speaking "green regained"
So too
Christian
green/red
sensed newborn
divine/humane
light/power
ancient eco-messianic solstice
fertile
non-violent celebrations;
So
also
red sky
light fades
inside ringing joyful ears
poised toward regreening
non-violet ultra
ecofeminist Earth
Green ReStoring Justice
In solidarity with
RedSky Sacred Rights
to worship
unprivileged
under-capitalized
everyday compassionate princes
and feminist princesses
of and for green/red
co-passioned
co-arising
co-gravitating
co-operative
eco-therapeutic
Red sky fading
refacing
non-violently communicating
healthy democratic
WholeEarth
GreenNatured/RedSpirited
Eco/Ego CoAligning Peace,
So
also
Red sky
fades
inside ears
poised toward greening
non-violet ultra recommunion
solstice redivining...
History,
one of the Muses,
like Music,
and Poetry,
and Liturgical FireCircle Dance,
and Regenerative Design,
offers three types of fertility/bereavement stories:
Yangy War stories,
Yinnish Peace stories,
And everything in-between life and death,
Hybrids of diverse creative and degenerative tensions
struggling with and against each Other.
War stories remind us
no one is special dead.
Peace stories reweave us
Everyone is uniquely special
called and challenged
fully alive
In-between stories
restore and destroy
special GoldenRule meanings
for and against unanimous death
of EarthlyOther
as our co-empathic EgoSelves.
War stories sadly proliferate
like BlackFriday tragedy shopping hours
and NRA ViolenceFirst! membership cards
and automated death machines
and climate sickness
in public squares
and anxious private circles
of remunerative capital despair.
Peace stories gladly integrate
ThanksGiving Days
toward peaceful everyday Advent
of new born communal princes and princesses
living healthy happily ever paradise after
integrity of war-torn story ends.
Sometimes we call PeaceStories
love stories.
I won't even try to list all the bad names
we sometimes give competing WarStories,
children are probably deeply listening,
But,
They all seem to have something sinister to do
with reducing Earth's natural fertility
to mere spiritualized manure,
toxic attitude,
definitely not centered in ultra-nonviolet gratitude
for PeaceStories
and their MultiCulturing Muses.
Life was better when I fit into my princess nightgown
Lights were brighter
The sky more vibrant
All the jokes were funnier
Big things felt like distant problems
He was here
Songs were catchier
Our laughter more pure
I miss the days of the purple long-sleeved nightgown
The one adorned by my favorite princesses
Back when I could slip on my PJs and not have to worry about washing off my makeup
And the days were full of belly laughs, full of carefree naivety
Always longing to look back rather than forward
I miss you, baby girl
The little girl in the purple princess nightgown, forever and always
Princess Misled:
Kissed a bunch of frogs
They were still frogs in the end.
Kissed toads, until warts grew
Why is what you're looking for
Always in the last place you look
I asked myself.?
I needed my Prince
Oh how I needed my hero.
Ready to give up, I drank
Potions from the last cauldron.
About to call it a life.
My Fairy Godmother
Was a Witch.....
I Was under her spell
Still I searched once
Again to no avail.
One last kiss did I perform
To my surprise this last frog
Transformed; When the
Prince saw me, with warts
On my skin: Mission
Completed as this now my end.
The moral of the story is as clear
As can be, Mono or herpes is not
Worth the risk.
The toads that you kiss...
May not be so charming;Fairy Tale
Metaphors, may prove be alarming.
Real Princesses, go home
When they leave the ball,,
The Prince was not very happy, not
Happy at all: He ran away screaming...
"Ladies and Princesses should never kiss frogs "
The emptying of the hall,
in memorandom or literal sprall,
the emptying of a peacefully worded spell,
layered with cement,
or drinks of the fall-
one done for the rafters in place,
two for people of outer space,
readying their reasons to be face,
constant dormant w/o tangle stands within fog,
reed wearing princesses who love to jog
take you along.
Don't sing your songs,
but remember who had your longest love-
the keys are all in place,
ready to turn,
the clothes wave to solar grace,
and one surfer of the soul,
emanates his new born...
The guy making world decisions is in angst,
for delay of an utter stunt to be designed has caught him fully,
a memory of pure scent arrives slowly,
and I mean that...
It's recognizable only like wood is to the coffee beans roll,
deep yo-
rooted.
happiness
i have spent this life
with mermaids and maidens
the most beautiful of women
who made words like sweet perfume
flying above me are valkryes and fairies
long looking for my soul
and how they could bless me
lovers and mistresses made of the earth
built in human weaknesses from birth
they answer my calls with words
of worth, pecancy and flirts
also in my kingdom are queens
and princesses
perched on high mountains
and lifted heavenly
men with pen's exalt their beauty
because it is their solemn duty
to worship each other in this way
some search for saddness
and saddness they deliver
some search for gladness and
it too is in the quiver
some are sinners
some are saints
some from out of musty
books they paint
emotions or some worthy cause
matrons and the mothers
who could only live
by the graces
only a mother could give
i've laughed with these women
and cried on their shoulders
enough time has passed that
they've made me grow older
daughters and sisters my next of kin
i shared with you my secrets
my poetry with in
and sang my songs
of juvenilia
and angels that brought
lucidity and luciferous
to dark caverns of
inhumanity
gratis for the guilty
words describing filthy
from those who
writhe in pain
cowgirls and tomboys
you know who you are
with words of encouragement
you made me a star
and to add to the list
one vixen and one witch
one who's been deleted
and the other
i don't know which
but they all make out the
women i love on the soup
they turned out to be
a tight little group
i think i've added all to my list
especially a woman
who's name rhymes with bliss
so here's to you all
i give you this
a great big hug
and great big kiss