Pretty Pretty Poems | Examples

murderous mittens and her side kick tiger socks

La la la, la-la-la, laaa-la!
La la la, la-la-la, laaa-la!

SO THE KITTY SAID TO ME,
MEOW MEEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW.
SHE SAID TIME TO FEED ME,
MEOOOWWWWOOOO.

MEOW MEOOWWW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW,
LIKE THAT OF A BANSHEE.
MEOW MEOOWWW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW,
SHE CALLS OUT TO ME.

MEOW MEOOWWW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW,
SCRATCHING AT THE DOOR.
MEOW MEOOWWW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW,
SHE DEMANDS FOR MORE.

UPON THE WINDOW SILL,
MEOW MEEOW MEOW MEEOW MEEOW!
SHE SAID CHASE ME STILL,
MEOOOWWWWOOOO, WILD AND PROUD.

here kitty kitty kitty
pretty pretty princess

here kitty kitty kitty
pretty pretty princess

(kitty)

Laaaaa, la-la-laaaa, laaaa laaa!
Wooohhh-laaa, laaa-la-laaaa!

MEOW MEOOWWW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW,
SCRATCHING AT THE DOOR.
MEOW MEOOWWW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW,
SHE DEMANDS FOR MORE.

MEOW MEOOWWW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW,
THE KITTY QUEEN OF NIGHT.
MEOW MEOOWWW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW,
HER VOICE A BANSHEE’S CRY.

Laaaaa, la-la-laaaa, laaaa laaa!
Wooohhh-laaa, laaa-la-laaaa!

Sydney my city

Sydney my love, Sydney my city

Splendour and majesty, nothing such pretty. 
Sydney my love, Sydney my city.

First rays of the sun,  spread here fun.
Opera, Harbour Bridge, Blue Mountain.
Pretty pretty places, plenty plenty beauty.
Sydney my love, Sydney my city

Clean clean beaches,  green green trees,
Pleasant weather, cool  cool breeze.
Kissing the shores, sea waives sporty.
Sydney my heart, Sydney my city

Kangaroo, emu, parrots, cockatoo.  
4X fun, taste of barbecue.
Having flora and fauna, folk and fidelity.
Sydney my delight, Sydney my city.

Cheers of beers,  music and  dance.
Events and sports, friendship and romance. 
People enjoy varied leisure activity.
Sydney my crave, Sydney my city.
 
In habitant's haven, half a hundred hills.
Love surfing thrills, basking when chills. 
They toil for growth and prosperity.
Sydney my choice, Sydney my city.

People here thrive in an easy life. 
Happy happy children with serene smile. 
Over everything, supreme is humanity.
Sydney my pride, Sydney my city.

- S. D. Tiwari

Smoke on the water

Your pretty , pretty like a Deep Purple song
I know you hate it when I call you pretty
But when I hear your voice I just want to sing along
You hate it when I call you pretty 
But anything else just feels wrong 

Like smoke on the water 
Like fire in the sky
You make my breathing harder
Your absence ruins my life

We haven't talked in a week
They say Swiss time's running out
I want to fight, want to speak
But instead I just think about

The fact that this has happened before 
We've burned down the city , burned down it all
We thought we wouldn't be together anymore
But then we once again started to fall

Fall for eachother
Fall for another 
lie, another scheme 
Another demolition, it all seems
to be for nothing 
Like a waste of time
But then the memories come rushing 
back then you go back to being mine

And we can nonger be bothered 
About the smoke on the water
or the fire in the sky 
You said we'd get out of this , you didn't lie

A Whiff of Carbolic

I sniff at my hands and oh!
Such scent, such ecstasy,
a memory presented to my nose.
But where do we find this block of adorable redness?

It was sold in every shop: lovable carbolic soap,
an aromatic compound, so ruddy, so redolent.
But this is now so rare; it merely
presents itself to my pleading mind -

a psyche that puts forth its arms,
a plea to a storehouse of valuable memory,
a whiff of an echo, an echo of an odour,
an odour that's been sent.

So who remembers, recalls a soap that's not
so round, bright pink, cream, blue or white,
that isn't sold in pretty-pretty paper?
We do so wish to sniff, sniff, sniff at an odour that's so old.

(3 Oct 2023)

Am I

Am I too girly or am I to boyish
Am I pretty or just ok
Should I be rich or poor 
Not really knowing who I am

Trying to read between the lines
What do people want me to be
A pretty pretty princess or a tomboy
what am I supposed to be

People say I am beautiful 
But talk behind my back
Putting me head up but not
Strong enough to listen

Do I have to be funny or
Do i have to be serious
Should I change or be myself
Who am I supposed to be

Someone tell me who am I supposed to be

Dimensions

You take the fifth
distilled and delusional
drunk, disorderly and disrobed

fallen to your knees you plea
and pretty pretty plead
your prayers
to multiple dimensions

boots made of stone
you can't run
no directions nor diversions
you can't hide
naked
you abide

songs ring softly in your head
you're alive but somehow dead
life's flashes of brilliance
seem less brilliant
light walks away from you
but you're not through

darkness beckons your pain
in a devil disguised as a saint
you pass judgement
and delve into his realm
as he deepens his hold

you attack and then retreat
regroup then repeat
you succumb and sacrifice your lamb,
your virtues and the sheep
you awaken from this sleep
blinking blankly
and wander on

Pale Shelter

i look out my eyes,
windshield wipers —
crying all the time,
inside.

the shy gives me the creepers,
living all the time;
buried treasure,
the shovel of survival, hides.

the teacher writes one word,
at a time,
on the enormous blackboard,
looming in my mind.

pretty...pretty...pretty

the violence in my history
destroying the self
not a believer
in books that “help”

disconnected, illusions looming

salesman tries to gimmee
some direction

it’s a one way road

out

my cheeks are red,
my eyes are blue
darkness finds me with you

the wipers fast, never stop
   skidding shoes
      wheels turning
          spinning, burning


12/2/2019

Best Fiend Forever

Your 'friend'? Your 'bestie' ...

You KNOW her face like your own,
Know the many masks she wears -
The lovely guises she dresses in to seduce,
And the lies she whispers, sweet.

You know the world she has left in ruin,
Yet you invite her as you would a wish ...
Come in, you say ... welcome!
Let me tend your horrors,

Make me and mine your home ...
I want you to curse my comforts -
To kiss me, deep, and make it burn,
Mind my manias and melt my marrow ...

Course my veins like lifeblood ...
I want you to raze the ramparts of my castle,
Bring the walls down around me,
Rattle my lungs with death's consumption,

And dance in my skin like a scarecrow.
Oh, and if you please ...
If you pretty, pretty please ...
I will, quite sincerely ...

THANK you for it.

Love At First Sight--

When I awaken, when I’m awakening;
I get ready for school
And in the hallway at my arrival;
There you are girl, you…
You’re so beautiful
You’re so marvelous
You’re so cute and kind
Girl want ya ta be mine
Its love
Love
Was love at first sight, this is love at first sight
You’re such a pretty, pretty girl;
And I just wanna be in your world;
Oh! I find you lovely, won’t you please
Come and walk
Come on and talk
To me, to me
Girl cause I love you 
It’s true, I believe I love you
Just because I’ve seen you with my eyes;
And I must realize its love, love
Love at first sight, love its love
Love at first sight
Seeing you in this morning was... For me
Love at first sight



8/1/71
Written words by James Edward Lee
Arranged music by The Corinthian™©  & Alton Adkins ©1971, 2019

April Fools

How cold the sun of April
  first day playing games
  of spring return to winter chills.
Blow ye wild, racing winds
  slip thru the stilled and silent trees
  hovering between the naked forms
  and promised new growth of life.
Hear the cry and howl of the hollow
  echoing goodbyes and hellos
  waiting for March gusts to die away.
Sing loud and bold old birds of prior years
  pretty, pretty, pretty tweetings
  of April's spring into May days
  as showers fall hard and icy cold.
Young, newly paired wrens and sparrows
  begin the staked out housings
  gather nesting materials for soon to be laid eggs.
Croci, daffodil, forsythia burst forth
  in shaded emerald green starts
  soaking in the sunlight warm
  ready to glow in bright and brilliant hues.
Others soon to peek thru the earthened ground
  breaking grit and graveled clay dirt
  in sprigs tendered in their greenery.
Yet comes April in its unpredictability, yellowed sun
  teasing life to come forth and be reborn
  then sear it chilled within its grip
   amidst bluing cloudless skies.
These are the days of every life
 enticing and cautionary
 hesitating and holding back
all the April fools.

My Small Bit of Forest

The colorant of dawn, the cardinal sees,
intoning its hues with, “pretty...pretty...pretty.”

As I covet red feathers, in the teaberry tree,
the sunlit chickadee harmonizes, “hey sweetie.”

The woodpecker like a heckler is pining for laughs -
pounding, drumming the marionette for gaffs.

A tufted titmouse tweets, “peter...peter...peter.”
The goldfinch dines on dandelion seeds, lilting sweeter.

Outfitted with winsome wildlife, comfortable and commodious,
my small bit of forest resonates with songbirds, melodious.

Cardinals Trill

A Cardinal’s trill, peep…peep…peep…peep…peep…
often full of himself, wakes me from sleep.
peep…peep…pretty…pretty…pretty; rings out his bliss;
across Kentucky’s bluegrass in the morning mist.

A tad egocentric but, he’s allowed;
his bright red plumes make him oh, so proud.
He’s a splash of color in the trees, 
a scarlet, rose red dot, singing in the breeze.

Peep…peep…pretty…pretty…birdie; I’m a pretty…birdie;
must get on his partner’s nerves; he can be over-chirpy.
the female is who is a, rusty brown.
Has to be jealous of that noisy clown!


Written 2-14-19

Save Our Sisters

A poem about infanticide of girls...

"Save Our Sisters!"

Many girls lost, many girls missed
Many girls lost, never to be Ms.
Strings of girls, strands of pearls, 
Gone, gone, gone. Pretty, pretty, girls.
A mother's hug, a sister’s laugh, a daughter’s kiss
Lost, lost, lost. Missed, missed, missed.

Many girls lost, many girls missed
Many girls lost, never to be Ms.
Young girls grow up, become young ladies.
But for Indian girls, that’s a big maybe 
Young girls grow up, become young ladies.
But for Chinese girls, that’s a big maybe,

Many girls lost, many girls missed
Many girls lost, never to be Ms.
Run, Run, Run, hide your daughters, 
Run, Run, Run.  Run from the slaughter.
Wake up world, we’ve lost too many sisters.
S.O.S. World, Save Our Souls, Save Our Sisters. 

NoelsArt

Comments: In some parts of the world, the three deadliest words are “It’s a girl”.  Girls are killed for being girls. After watching this movie trailer  http://www.itsagirlmovie.com/ , I wrote the poem above.  FEEDBACK WELCOME.

Moon Face Tanka

Pretty pretty moon
Moon face or human picture 
among the bright stars
Good calm of her inner felt
So my smoothing cool reading

Pretty Moon

Pretty pretty moon
Moon face or human picture 
among the bright stars

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