Long Socialite Poems
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RAPUNZELS' DOUBLE LIFE - ONCE UPON A TIME
Not so long ago
A housewife named Rapunzel
Lived in a modest bungalow
A white picket fence contained it
Flowers filled beautiful garden beds
A swinging seat Rapunzel would sit
Golden ringlets tied upon her head
Daily she'd greet the postman
And wave as the buses passed by
She's sit and dream of a life beyond
Questioning herself as to why?
Why is it I don't have glamour
Not even glitz or fame?
Why is it my life seems dull
With everyday just the same?
Wanting to feel some excitement
A reason to dress up real nice
Rapunzel took to the city lights
And soon was living a double life
Rapunzel became known as a socialite
Golden ringlets hung down low
Mixing with all the rich and famous
Glitz and glamour was all the go
But then on one fateful day
Rapunzels' hubby caught her out
Her photo was in the social pages
He demanded "What's this all about?"
Rapunzel she was speachless
Thinking of what to say
"Oh Arthur darling that's not me
That's my sister Madeline May"
"Madeline May is in town for a month
I'm sure I mentioned it to you
She'll be busy mixing with the wealthy
Getting to know who's who"
Arthur replied "I must of forgot"
And with that Rapunzel sighed
She'd have to be much more careful
Arthur couldn't find out she'd lied
This double life Rapunzel lived
It filled her with such delight
Life had a sense of pure excitement
Being just a housewife didn't seem right
For years Rapunzel continued
Socialising with only the best
Presuming Arthur had no clue
She had no reason to confess
After a long and eventful day
Rapunzel discovered Arthur had gone
Finding a note it simply said
'You've lived a double life too long!'
04/02/2016
We need to leave it be,
in the rich black soil of the heavens
to forever change her color scheme
that big, beautiful, polished gem.
It's never tasted poverty or war.
Or had a tank rake a scar into its face.
No walls, roving gangs or abortion.
No endless coil of hissing hate.
If it could speak, it would say:
"Everything you've touched you've destroyed.
You've never been a peaceful race
You're covered in plastic, and the scat of nuclear war..."
"Leave me to my sea of tranquility.
My soul food is endless solitude.
God made me plain so no man would ravish me.
But mankind sure tried, but all in vain."
"Please stay where you're at,
chained to your blue island of self-pleasure and pain.
Stay on your own side of the horizon, I'll stay on mine.
I'm a thoughtful loner; you're a self-centered socialite.
Clean up your earth, air, water ...(our) sky.
Stop turning heavenly perfection into your personal stye.
Respect me-I'm your cousin.
Be a rose in the eyes of the creator's dream.
Not a snake impaled on the hiss of its greed.
one definition used malice in defining
socialite, saying it was a first amendment right
of certain people to be socialites.
this is crazy aint it ?
we are people speaking
speaks
against these foolish happenings.
and stands like a hypocrite
when we as people wish to define
redefined certain words that speak
against social freedoms.
then thirty or more spoke saying
"take a chill-pill thrill !
she-it, aint nothing going here !"
yet in this sarcasm are we in
the line of believing that such words
hinder, cause and bring into
being things to happen
for the full enjoyment of
some sadist who wish
such things to be!
one person said, I wish
George Washington loved us,
because he would have told those men
that socializing is not the
gathering of minds,
it often is where someone
will be, so that someone else
can tell his/her foe
where they are and cause
some kinda fight to encure!
BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY'S*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
While nibbling on French croissant so fine,
Audrey sipped coffee, feeling divine.
She struck a pose, twitched her chin,
The staff oohed, awed, gave a grin,
At bunny who dined with glamor and shine!
“Oh, daaaarlings,” she said with a flair,
“I’ll nibble on pink pearls, I swear!”
“I’m Holly Golightly,”
She said most contritely.
This dazzling bunny made Tiffany's rare!”
*"Breakfast at Tiffany's" is a 1961 romantic comedy film directed by Blake Edwards, starring Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly, a quirky socialite in New York City. The film is based on Truman Capote's novella and explores themes of love and identity. (Source: Wikipedia)
The sertraline queen of New Orleans
Getting high on her brandy and coke.
Perched on a bar stool, surveying the scene,
While she lights up another smoke.
Tom Waits is playing on the radio
“In the neighbourhood”, plodding and slow.
Nicotine clouds drift across the stained bar
TV blinks in the corner, like a flickering star.
Sitting proud and upright in her red and white dress
Black shiny stilettoes, dressed to impress.
Flicks open her compact, with lips pursed and tight
She sharpens her edges, this new socialite.
Here she can be whomever she wants
Pick her own style, choose her own fonts.
Not just a mother, a daughter, a wife
Now a bohemian, pulsing with life
Redrawing her outline, sensing her form.
He tried to erase her, now she’s reborn.
Once bound with threats, with ropes made from fear.
But now she was free. He wasn’t here.
No more would she be stifled,
Excluded and erased,
Nor stand upon South Portland Bridge
Convinced she couldn’t be saved.
The barman gives her a sideways look
As he towel dries another glass.
He says “Do you want another one love ?
Or will that be your last ? ”
She sighs to see her black cab pull up
On the rain drenched, Glasgow Street.
“I’ll just have one for the road” she says
“But you better make it neat.”
Raincoat around her shoulders,
Collar pulled up to her chin,
She opens the glistening cab door
And nestles deep within.
“Where are ye headed ? Tis nae night for a walk”
Asked the cabbie, in time honoured patter,
“Just take me to anywhere else” she said,
“Keep on driving, the place doesn’t matter"
The Sertraline Queen of New Orleans
Watches tenements slip out of sight
Cheek pressed to the window of the steamed up cab
That delivers her back to the night ……………
Sargent’s Madame X is not just a socialite,
she is rather the embodiment of French aristocracy.
Pale as moonlight,
poised, brimming with dignity;
her crown is an ode to the huntress.
And yet, her dark and dangerously low-cut dress,
the accentuated curves
sing of a sweet and suggestive mystery.
She is at once formidable and submissive,
the tempest and tranquility.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 24/08/17
Based on The Portrait of Madame X by John Singer Sargent.
http://images.metmuseum.org/CRDImages/ap/original/DT91.jpg
I come from a hick town
we stare at the woman
competition on
A town of five thousand when I was a child
the shoe factory pulled out
so make that twenty-five hundred.
that’s nothing Gladys says
we kids rode cows to school through the field
no paved roads
everyone had corn fields, my town was twelve hundred.
twelve hundred! That is a metropolitan center!
My town had forty-two houses
We were all related; only two hundred and forty-six of us
in 1971.
How many kids were in your graduating class?
This query is from Lizzie, she is joining the fray.
“Twenty-one,” the woman said proudly.
“That’s huge!” Lizzie informed her.
“There were eight in my class; six boys and two girls.”
rural America
one hick town socialite to another
bragging rights for one
as soon as we crown the winner
Moon night!
Full quarter, half-moon snow bright;
Mid-day, mid noon, such a boom;
a Moon lit Knight;
Son of a Jewish Rabbi;
Birth given name Marc Spector;
Was a professional boxer?
Did a tour of duty, fought as a Marin;
Leaves them to join ops. In CIA!
Later in the parlay
Becomes a vigilante;
A gravity anti-hero;
Mercenary;
Killed by an Egyptian Bushman;
The Egyptian god of Konshu resurrects;
Marc Spector mercenary rich socialite;
Now transformed by this god into;
Moon Knight;
Vigil unto battle mode;
Ready to deal with any ordinary criminals;
Crime fighter dressed in WHITE;
With the crest of the quarter moon on his chest;
Moon night;
Full quarter, half-moon;
Mid-day, mid noon;
A Moon Knight!
8/6/21
10/3/2022 revision©2021, 2022©
"From anthology Marvel Comics Poetry BIOS"
For Moon Knight Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Her face is not the sparkling mien of an angel
And her hair is not as hard as a horse’s mane,
Her gait is easy to predict and it’s nothing close
To the cat-walked strides that beauty models feign.
Her shy smile will send chills down your spine
But it cannot rival the practiced grins of a socialite,
She does not intend it but her cooing will drive
The most deadened stoic into a bout of sensual appetite.
She’s not any reincarnated ancient goddess
And she’s never thought so highly of herself,
Humility her weakness and coyness her strength;
Suzie disdains the quick girlish tempers of an elf.
With other pretty girls she does not herself compare.
Pageant judges can never fully unearth her limitless splendor
That puts hibiscuses and chrysanthemums to easy shame,
And makes all roses look uglier, and every peony feel less tender.
Suzie’s brimming beauty no fabled nymph can ever attain,
Though her humble aim is to remain hearty and ever plain.
Although she's always attired in exquisite clothing,
Miranda Vasquez dances, but she's not a socialite.
She spends most of her days embroidering dresses
and decorating flowered fans long into the night.
Her finely sown garments would fetch a nice price,
but money is not what brings Miranda great joy.
No. For she gives them away to low-born ladies
who proudly wear her raiment of felt and corduroy.
Her garments are beautiful works of creative art,
similar to grand paintings from a master's brush.
Bright and bold colored fabrics she loves the most,
green, gold, and crimson hues of cheeks in blush.
Miranda is loved by young and old in her village.
A legendary figure she's bound to become in time.
With her dark lashed eyes and dainty red lips,
she's adored for her heart and tailoring, sublime.