Short Belle Of The Ball Poems

The Belle of the Ball is the best
The one who stands out from the rest
Her face - she won't mind it
Because she's behind it
And males only look at her chest!...

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A flamingo asked a fer-de-lance
To be his date to a high school dance.
"Oh, you don't want to go with me.
I've neither arms nor legs, you see."
"No problem there", flamingo said,
"You can still play the perfect role.
We'll enter the limbo contest,
And you can be the pole!"...

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A PLEASURE OR NOT?

As he approached her across the hall,
She felt she must be the belle of the ball.
He was handsome and watching him dance,
She never dreamed she would have a chance.
And as it turned out, she was right. 
He marched straight past her into the night.
...

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Heart full filled with sweet 
belle of the ball
 dish in the sink
amongst the china
 peach of the bowl
embraceable
sweet nectar luster divine
simply tart
brisk REVELANT
for children young at
-heart-
 
 

12/13/2023
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
...

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The sound of a piano drew me to you;
and your captivating smile lit up the room.
I fell in love; there was nothing I could do
but breathe you in like an exotic perfume.
A southern rose, you were the belle of the ball,
a budding bloom, the most beautiful of all.
And through the unpredictable hand of fate
my love for music led me to my soulmate....

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At one time she was the belle of the ball
Those days are over
Way over
Most of her classmates are gone
She has buried four husbands
She tries to be sophisticated
Puts on airs
Considers us her servants
She has lost her fortunes
All five of them
She does not remember many things
We working for free now
Most of us do not mind
She was truly generous when she did have money...

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I pondered the patent plastic pumps
From a Chepstow market stall 
Surely with these I thought
I would be the belle of the ball

My first heels ever so daring
Shiny and black with a pop of gold
A pointed toe needs no comparing
Fashion has never been so bold

Red and white in candy stripe 
Even the bag still gives me glee
Christmas morning lived up to the hype
For these were under the tree 
...

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Eternal waves, cascade for days
Sun dried and free, they frame her face
Twirls and spins, cinnamon skin
Sky blue eyes, magnetic grin

To the T, my mini me
But more than I could hope to be
Angelic, sweet, glitter tipped feet
If I’m a song, she’s my beat

She shows me grace, that feels misplaced 
In my heart, she fills, a broken space
The belle of the ball, though, still small
My Molly Lori, she has it all...

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Azalea! Belle of the ball
Elegant stylish grace,
Flowing swirls,
Shades of pink satin
Air of sophistication,
Awakening imaginations 
Love and nature,
Played a part,
Warm breezes swayed,
Different dream worlds,
Dancing emotions waltzed,
Romance bloomed,
Midnight hopes disappeared,
Twelve o’clock struck,
Cinderella! 
A fairy tale,
But for Azalea,
She remains
Always and forever,
A very beautiful flower.

Wendy Jae...

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Drifted deep in wintry dark 
she's in decline, as useless 
as a sailboat in a storm.
Once a haven for hikers, 
a shelter for stalwarts and strays
'til the mountains gave summons;
now forlorn and disregarded, 
like a maiden aunt too old and to no purpose, 
though winsome in her former days
when she was quite the prize, 
the belle of every ball, envied by all. 
"If those walls could only speak!" they say,
as they quickly pass on by,
not giving her a second glance....

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Drifted deep in wintry dark 
she's in decline, as useless 
as a sailboat in a hurricane.
Once a haven for hikers, 
a shelter for stalwarts and strays
'til the mountain gave summons,
now forlorn and disregarded, 
like a maiden aunt, too old and without purpose, 
though winsome in her former days
when she was quite the prize, 
the belle of every ball, envied by all. 
"If those walls could speak!" they say,
as the hikers pass her by,
never offering a second glance....

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Hear me.
 My words,
 with ink tell the tale
of a lady and her lord.
See me.
My pen,
miming their accord.
The laughter; soundlessly
R i n g i n g     
in your ears.
The merry heartbreak
spilling golden champagne;
T e a r s.
Cries of passion
dancing across the floor
chandeliered to the moment
within our first embrace.

The horses depart, printing across my floor.
They carry him from me.
Belle of the ball draped on a chair
I startle from my dream....

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CINDERELLA    GOLDENROD


The June garden  is overflowing with summer colour. 
The dresses are gorgeous. The Prince is dazzled.
In the corner, Cinderella  in drab green looks sad;
But the clock ticks. In August, the Prince of the Sky 
Will see her clusters of emberglowing yellow flowers. 
She’ll be the belle of the ball.

………………………………………………………………………………………


Note.   All gardeners love the bright, late showing of Goldenrod, after the other flowers have  gone....

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Drifted deep in wintry dark 
she's in decline, as useless 
as a sailboat in a storm.
Once a haven for hikers, 
a shelter for stalwarts and strays
'til the mountains gave summons;
now forlorn and disregarded, 
like a maiden aunt too old and to no purpose, 
though winsome in her former days
when she was quite the prize, 
the belle of every ball, envied by all. 
"If those walls could only speak!" they say,
as they quickly pass on by,
not giving her a second glance....

Read More

Drifted deep in wintry dark 
she's in decline, as useless 
as a sailboat in a storm.
Once a haven for hikers, 
a shelter for stalwarts and strays
'til the mountains gave summons;
now forlorn and disregarded, 
like a maiden aunt too old and to no purpose, 
though winsome in her former days
when she was quite the prize, 
the belle of every ball, envied by all. 
"If those walls could only speak!" they say,
as they quickly pass on by,
not giving her a second glance....

Read More

Drifted deep in wintry dark 
she's in decline, as useless 
as a sailboat in a storm.
Once a haven for hikers, 
a shelter for stalwarts and strays
'til the mountains gave summons;
now forlorn and disregarded, 
like a maiden aunt too old and to no purpose, 
though winsome in her former days
when she was quite the prize, 
the belle of every ball, envied by all. 
"If those walls could only speak!" they say,
as they quickly pass on by,
not giving her a second glance....

Read More

Drifted deep in wintry dark 
she's in decline, as useless 
as a sailboat in a storm.
Once a haven for hikers, 
a shelter for stalwarts and strays
'til the mountains gave summons;
now forlorn and disregarded, 
like a maiden aunt too old and to no purpose, 
though winsome in her former days
when she was quite the prize, 
the belle of every ball, envied by all. 
"If those walls could only speak," they say,
as they quickly pass on by,
not giving her a second glance....

Read More

Drifted deep in wintry dark 
she's in decline, as useless 
as a sailboat in a storm.
Once a haven for hikers, 
a shelter for stalwarts and strays
till the mountains gave summons,
now forlorn and disregarded, 
like a maiden aunt too old and to no purpose, 
though winsome in her former days
when she was quite the prize, 
the belle of every ball, envied by all.                                    
"If those walls could speak!" they say
as they quickly pass on by,
seldom giving her a second glance....

Read More