Short Beaus Poems

beauties
unruffled
on a steamy day
float in boats rowed by their beaus 
white silken hands folding their fans at sunset
...

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There was young lady named Hannah,
Courted by beaus from Savannah,
As a real good Southern girl
Didn't surrender her pearl
Even when groped on the veranda....

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There once was a girl called “Sea Alice”
             She lived on her boat, quite a “palace”
Her beaus never end
When their masts seem to bend
                   The ladies feel nothing but malice!...

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sweet moonlight glow from 
beaus on rippling shoreline, but 
can this vivid yen linger?

wave of pulsing sighs 
infinite in heartfelt pledge?
timeless dream phase I wonder

Created and posted ; 16th of July 2021...

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The boxing, leaping mad March hares
That chase and dash in umpteen pairs,
That tear through fields, and hare up hills - 
All jealous Jacks, or Jacks and Jills
(The femme fatales, the luckless beaus)?
But are they crazy? No one knows…...

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I can change him she said
Her name is Monica
She planned to change her last six beaus
Did her best too
None of them changed
Her optimism is applaudable
But not contagious
Wouldn’t it be easier to date a beau she does have to change?...

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Long long ago in the land of milk and honey
Lived this sweetie who had a big batch of money
Quite popular with the beaus
After her money I suppose
Told them, “eat my shorts!” this gal was no dummy


© Jack Ellison 2015...

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"Be still my heart!" 
The thunder, the splatter, 
all the drenching liquid matter -- 

then the storm passes, 
and out come beautiful lasses,  
clipping roses for bonnets, 
choosing beaus for dearer sonnets -- it's really about love --...

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Whilst once staying in an inn
One place he had never been
Daring dance with Bonnie Lynne
Begins by waltzing with him
She spun in her crinoline
Bold beaus would vie for a spin
Hoping a chance glance to win
Her heart now though won within...

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Unruffled beauties
       float in boats rowed by their beaus
    
            one warm Georgia day.

        With fragile paper-white hands,
they fold their fans at twilight.


For the One New or Old Tanka Poetry Contest of Rick Parise...

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In a diverticulum of an untrodden boulevard
At sunset sings a lonesome diva
The evenings are vibrant with paeans
And the nights revel in melodious madrigals

She yearns to overcome these shackles
Even her beaus look askance!
Her nights are brimming with songs
But the somber dawns bring her sobs!!...

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there might be a gator at Sunday’s table.
Don’t act surprised, if you are able.
Why does Shelly always cross-species date?
She wants to prove that she does not hate.
Why do we have to be polite to them?
They are her dates, her beaus, her men.
But a gator? I protesed. Grandma, no!
She would not budge, so I did not go....

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there might be a gator at Sunday’s table.
Don’t act surprised, if you are able.
Why does Shelly always cross-species date?
She wants to prove that she does not hate.

Why do we have to be polite to them?
They are her dates, her beaus, her men.
But a gator? I protested.  Grandma, no!
She would not budge, so I did not go....

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A picturesque scene revels in snow
As the snow globe turns skaters whirl
Arm in arm with their handsome beaus

A picturesque scene revels in snow
Lighted houses lined up in rows
Welcome mats 'pon verandas unfurl

A picturesque scene revels in snow
As the snow globe turns skaters whirl  

Sponsor: Brian Strand
December 05, 2014...

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A fast-paced, quick-thinking woman is Jen.
Gregarious and fun, she juggles her men
Tossed and tumbled, all three laugh about it.
Loving her the whole time, for she is a chit.

Happy-go-lucky, fun to be with for sure.
Her motives are good-natured, totally pure.
All think they have a chance, but none know.
She juggles six more beaus down in Buffalo....

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Eva’s daily excitement was boundless
Her enthusiasm wore out her beaus.
At first they were bowled over with fascination
By the girl who bounded around the room laughing.

Eventually her mania either wore off or wore thin.
The beaus fell out of love with her, and she hunted them.
They began hiding in their mama’s houses, under beds.
Sometimes she fished them out, her lunacy always intact....

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There is that barn again
The red peeling paint shouts

Old worn gray tired it says
Memories running track

Back in the fourties when
Youth did reign rule really

When the paint was new red
Dancing and prancing here

Singing joy fiddle plays
Squares were formed to music

Kicked up her heels in time
Red paint new drew her beaus

Well now that tired worn look
Only need new coat_paint...

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Demure in her pose, modest in her ways
   Deflecting potential beaus, careful not to stray

Brief in conversation, shunning repartee
   Halting in her laughter, her faint smile shadowy

Eyes fixed on the ground, hair pulled tautly back
   Lips pursed tight together, her figure corset-wracked

Yet deep within dwelt beauty, of a type so rarely seen
   Her eternity of timeless verse, visionary... and pristine...

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~A Night at the Pub~



Benny burped British beer.
Betty, his beatiful beau, could not bear it!

Betty, burped a huge bubble back at Benny.
Beer burps, for the beloved's face are far more than bad,not worth a penny


Benny continued beside his beau, guzzling the luscious foam.
Better drive your beautiful Benz home, leaving burping, beaus alone!

                          
                         4/21/2021...

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