Sally Poems - Poems about Sally

ouija board sally setting spiritual guidelines shes séance savvy soft black cloth small silver bell and candle silent visitors they ask their questions the pointer spells out a name deception or truth...

Continue reading...

Dorothy Sally loved her pie, kept it for herself Had cherry, gooseberry and cherry on a shelf In her freezer she had hidden key lime and pecan You won’t get a piece though she has six strawberry chiffon Dorothy Sally does not share her sweet pies ever Her brother sneaks them out, he is extremely clever...

Continue reading...

In local park you’ll see her foraging. In every litter bin she digs deep down to see what precious prize there hides away. With ginger overcoat and auburn hair she is the cunning urban fox at work, scattering and leaving rubbish here and there. She has her large shopping trolley in tow to collect and transport her daily takings. All of...

Continue reading...

red letters on a desk with dust, her birthday card written perfecta — water drop on paper; ‘to the leaf i know will fall but not too far, please not too far’ flew in the breeze leaf crumbled like a fall of autumn — first freeze. killed everything within me; a zombie queen of a necropolis of misery. her plot is my home under this blanket of grass, with a petals kiss sleeps a...

Continue reading...

Still Holding My Own Poetry Contest Margarita Lillico's Sally's basin is broken and shattered But her plumbing works is all that mattered It was all a one-night sink Tap in and out in a blink Her men took finding joy in what splattered...

Continue reading...

My daughter - my love - my darkness - my only care. Oh how I miss you dear, wish you were here. But wishes cannot turn back what has been done; can they - can they bring you back to the sun?; How I yearn to hold you close - just once more, Hug, and to keep you safe,...

Continue reading...

Bossy Sally knew what we all should do gave advice to each and all we who knew her well ignored it her life was an enormous shambles; a mess...

Continue reading...

Doormat Sally Doormat Sally cried the moment she discovered that she was allergic to shoe wipe and cat pee. ...

Continue reading...

I'm tired of life with Smelly Sid - that sock just stinks of sweaty feet, no matter what they wash him in (in winter's bad, but summer heat...) I rolled out from the washing pile and got away from Sid, but then some boxers joined me - just my luck - and now I'm stuck with Skid-mark Sven. ...

Continue reading...

Sally Sue was a big-haired gal from Kalamazoo She lived in a forest of green with tiny slivers of blue. Her thick hair was her nemesis, her big boo-hoo She was not any kind of hairdresser, little Sally Sue. She meditated in the forest when a large black crow Swooped down into her hair, and nested way below. Right next to...

Continue reading...

A drab forty something, mother of six snotty noses, tie dyed shirt two sizes too small. Nipples poking through the thin cloth. Fuzzy pink slippers and yoga pants, ass like the surface of the moon, with mountains and craters well defined. Dirt blond hair with three-inch black roots. Lights the joint stuck between caked lips, blows smoke into the space, separating her from reality. Out of...

Continue reading...

A Place to Be I hope that Sally is where there are cats that curl in sunspots on a floor and readers who peruse novels slowly from cover to cover through long Sunday afternoons. Or it could be Monday when the washing is done and the red beans are steeping. I would make my way there to make the memory mine with a nice bottle of wine....

Continue reading...

Sally Sue did not take guff off of anybody This included monsters Nightmare monster had no idea about this. Thinking he was all big and bad and would terrify her. She was only four and they are easy to frighten. He made himself big His shadow was enormous His voice was deep and dangerous-sounding. Sally Sue laughed at his efforts. “You do not scare...

Continue reading...

long ago 'twas colonel brownes' folly to build a tower in a wood just for employment and to be jolly had he known, surely he never would the folly still stands with no penitence yet gypsy girl Sally was locked in there imprisoned without sustinence left to die without any care no birds nest now in this woodland flying by with no song it...

Continue reading...

My god, red bra, orange pants, and green socks, I’m making love to a traffic light. Get on with it. I can’t, where do I start. What does it matter? It matters a lot, if I start with your bra, do I stop, or do I drive on knowing three penalty points and an eighty pound fine are coming...

Continue reading...