They moved like dawn through shadowed years,
With quiet hands and blazing hearts,
Their dreams outshone the weight of fears,
They rewrote fate in fractured parts.
Marie lit atoms' trembling core,
Her lantern glowed through science' veil;
While Rosa sat and shook the war
Of silence—made the strong rails pale.
Malala, bright with sharpened pen,
Still sings where tyrants silence books;
Jane healed the lives of chimp and den,
With patient heart and watching looks.
Ada wove numbers into flight,
A code that danced before the light—
They rose like stars from time's deep sea,
And left a map for you and me.
Madame Dollene was Rubenesque
wearing too much rouge
her hat was oversized, overstuffed, over plumed
on anyone else, it would have looked outrageous.
The orange red feather perfectly matched her dress
Kuddos to her hat maker and her dressmaker.
She was the ultimate madame,
Looking every bit the part.
I was glad I was in Paris
To see her, if nothing else
I was fascinated by her attitude
Her steely blue eyes looked through my soul.
She had a strange smile, as if she knew the secrets of the universe.
I was convinced that she did.
Madame Mystic Moo is a cosmos Queen
We know her to be kind, she is rarely mean.
She shows us the way with her crystal ball.
A true humanitarian, compassionate, a real doll.
Why are cows so much kinder than people? A child asks.
He is wearing a school uniform and a Covid-19 mask.
Madame Mystic Moo is a natural human-being-wanna-be.
She does not realize she is even kinder, empathy is her specialty.
Madame Sunflower was on a roll in the very best way
She had a squishy ball and she was ready to play
I saw her coming and gave her a great big “hey! hey!”
Hoping she would have time to stop by on her way.
She is sassy and funny, and one of my best friends too.
Upbeat and positive, her faith does not allow her to be blue.
Enthusiasm oozes out of her pores in the very best way.
Crossing my fingers Madame Sunflower will stop by today.
Old maid of the court was treated like a clown
I should get paid for it, she said up and down.
If I were you a lady said, a minstrel I would be
So she became a minstrel at the age of forty-three
She played songs and ditties that were sassy and fun
The best fool in our kingdom said the King, number one.
She got permission to go to other kingdoms too.
Singing, juggling, and doing acrobats until she was blue.
Pretty soon the whole world knew her fame.
Godmerva was her given Christian name.
But she went by Madame G as she traveled about.
Until she could not longer travel because of the gout.
The bric-a-brac shop waits on Rue Nationale.
In a sleepy French town.
It opens at ten,
And closes at one,
Till three.
Then on till seven in the evening.
Madame opens the shutters
Before going to feed her little dog,
Hettie.
Hettie's toenails clip clop on the ceramic tiles.
Madame feeds her green beans and tuna from a tin.
Hettie barks.
Madame sits at her counter
And waits for mail.
A customer comes in.
"Bonjour!"
"Bonjour. Ca va?"
A deal is done on a 1920s doll.
Three hundred euros until Christmas.
A good gift for a collector.
But no more customer's today.
All is quiet.
Evening comes.
Hettie barks.
She eats and drinks.
Madame is always kind. Hettie knows.
She clip clops to her basket again.
Madame thinks about her man in England.
She smiles, but no-one sees.
She shuts the shutters and puts out the lights.
Another evening alone with Hettie and the TV.
Her man is waiting. Her man is waiting.
Madame LaBeaux, she had no heart
the center was the darkest part
her heart was, you see,
the size of a pea
now she is just the Devil’s tart
Mystic madame had an ethereal ambiance of her own.
We visited her rarely, for she was not often home.
Her house had an eerie quality, a personality of its own.
Apparitions were afoot, even when no human was home.
She was often better
but never good
Her virtue tainted
misunderstood
Her nights a mystery
each day in shame
The rumors spreading
each one to blame
The men who knew her
that man who left
Impassioned bookends
of time bereft
She was often better
yet often worse
Each day repeating
—tomorrow’s curse
(Dreamsleep: May, 2023)
Queen madame praying mantis dressed beautifully
after she eats her mates' heads off dutifully.
some have claimed that she acts snootily.
But I really like my queen who gasses out quite tootily.
In her estate in the hills lives prim Madame Chic
Who’s chauffeured way down into town every week
She tells the homeless to wash
Oh, you’ll never be posh!
You should bathe everyday like my poodle Monique!
5/9/23
Madame Bovidier makes no excuses for her misbehaviors.
her misdeeds are infamous; royalty speaks of her in astounded tones.
is she a relative? An off-blanket cousin? Or character of means unknown?
no one remembers when she first appeared or where she derived from.
her confidence level marches around rooms in steel toed marching boots.
she has the attitude of a brigadier general, and we peons fall into place.
reveling in her self-assurance. Waiting for our next instruction.
she is my honorary auntie, but even grandma fears her.
Magazine Madame measures mammoth mackerels
Manipulating measurements, marking misguided memos
Momentous mistakes moves and muffles meager mackerels
Manufactured mutilated memo mystifies many, milking money
Magazine magistrate Marine Morey measures mackerels
Making meticulous memories, mimicking Magazine Madame
Awake hair
hairstyles...
appropriate clothes
modeled...
Offered mouth,
painted...
hidden mistakes,
Clear Skin...
lively gestures,
rehearsed lines...
So she goes,
clearing paths,
she goes to the market...
Madame or courtesan...
Executive or executor...!?
Have you met my lady cat
A most prestigious aristocrat
She's of extremely dignified ascent
Genuine regal blue blood descent
Everyday might as well be a holiday
My lady’s a class act in every way
Elegant and graceful as they come
Madame de Pompadour quite venturesome
Prances proud in her queenly manner
That's how she graces my humble manor
AP: 3rd place 2022, Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on September 6, 2020 for contest COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (5) sponsored by BRIAN STRAND
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