Girl Tall Poems | Examples
These Girl Tall poems are examples of Tall poems about Girl. These are the best examples of Tall Girl poems written by international poets.
She woke up to a sunrise;
Bright in her eyes as she rose
She stares at the moon as it disappears.
The red hat sitting on her dresser,
As she picked out her daily dress.
Brushed her hair, sprayed perfume-
Still, something was missing.
The girl followed the echoes of her mom’s voice;
Alerting her of the time rush.
As she waited for the bus, the sense of incompleteness
Overweighed her.
Right then, her mom lent her the red hat.
A slight grin crosses her lips
As she outfitted herself with the red hat.
From then on, she’s never felt incomplete
Nor forget the red hat.
Who says I am small
to lead and reach a Goal,
rain or shine, I walk tall
by my actions led by my Soul.
I carry no frippery
yet I shelter the tall,
even in paths slippery
I tread with no fear at all.
Life may seem to have its slant
miss not the higher Goals it shows,
be not lost in your own rant
Life is not all about one’s woes.
9/Sep/2023
Pierre Édouard Frère French Painter - Under My Umbrella
picture 2. You are the little girl.
I think the spaceman tells tall tales I allowed.
Others were excited by his stories; I was not wowed.
Today he told me about a planet that he caught.
And an interplanetary catfish that was full of red snot.
They might be true, a girl said to me; her name is Naïve.
She was aptly named by parents who had grieved.
Because her sister Common Sense had died at birth.
I had no words for her, but I felt some mirth.
A little girl can stand so tall
Stand to play with her favourite ball
The laughs and jeers of passers by
As she stings like a bee, floats like a butterfly
Darling, don’t you think you’re out your depth?
This fixation of yours, it makes no sense
The other girls are playing with dolls
But you insist on kicking balls?
Still she grinds, she works, she kicks
Degrading comments in the mix
Dragging her down with “You’ll never be paid”
“You’ll never have audience watching your stage”
Nevertheless, she’s alive and kicking
Soon it wont just be boys their picking
To lead the teams, inspire nations
She’s one of millions, laying foundations
In France she leads her country with pride
So the next little girl doesn’t have to hide
So a little girl can stand so tall
Stand to play with her favourite ball
Standing Tall,
16/6/19, 2019 FIFA Women’s World Cup Poetry Contest
I heard the footsteps
from the deepest deep of my ear,
as you walked across the field.
I felt the rob of the green grass
on the soul of your sole.
From the shadow,
I beheld a towering figure,
radiating the bountiful beauty of the black race,
silhouetted against the sunlight.
Every little blink of your eyes
feeds my imagination with the picture of you
running across the field to me
in a conjugal gown.
Every breath you take,
carves you eternal spot
here inside of me.
I held so close to my heart
the aura that comes with the greenness of your grin.
I clasped to my chest,
the wonder-fullness that surrounds your luscious laughter.
Some steps closer,
I saw him in your eyes.
The “him” who owns you all.
Alas, you’re just another tall black girl
that wasn’t made for me.
Dedicated to My Father with Endless Love
My child’s serious eyes targeted me as his prize.
I could see pondering and wondering forming words
for my small child’s mumbling.
“Mommy, Daddy says you’re short”, he spoke.
“People come in all sizes.”
“Will I come in short?” he questioned.
“Would you care?”
“Don’t think so,” he shared.
“Good, since I’m only a short woman because I was born a
short man. When a young man, I despised being short. I
was a shy sort, wanting a growth spurt that never came.
One day, when alone and apart, I sat with my hurt on
isolated railroad tracks. Deep in day dreams, wiggling
my toes in pebbly dirt, I nearly missed the train’s loud
arrival which risked my survival. Suddenly upon me, the
train was deafening and looming, so my feet took to zooming.
I barely missed fatal harm, but that train did batter my left
arm. My elbow was pointed up towards my face, looking
angry and gangly. I don’t know why, I may never know, but
I kissed that torn elbow and instantly changed into a girl who
didn’t care to grow.”
“Did your Mommy buy you new clothes?”
There was a small boy
Whose heart was filled with joy
But was noisy and people he annoyed.
He was unemployed this comes to no surprise
For he was a child but was six feet high
Only at the age of five he towered over other guys
He worked at the mill for his parents were ill
And he awaited the day he could get their will
For his father was rich like Moebey Dick
And spent all of his days catching big fish
It was the boys wish to be like his dad
But, now that he was rich, fish was as costly as sand
Then later he took the hand of the girl he was to marry
But he being poor so the ring was made out of candy
The girl's name was Sandy
She was pretty, shy and dandy.
The boy now being 19 became the father of 4 sons
They were all fine except for the last one
This one being ugly just like his mom
Time went by quickly
Soon the boys all got married except for the one whose nick name was Bones
For he was ugly like his dad and wasn't very strong
Now someone told me this story that you have just now read
Don't know if it's true but they say the boy is now dead
Said he told so many lies that he ups and gets killed
Now I'm waiting among others to get part of his will.
The tall girl with skinned knees hair of straw
Shirley ‘the hag’
Her voice cracks when she talks
Skinny torn knees knock when she walks
She will flavor all Shirleys to come
Her face above left or right of any Shirley
When the hag skips rope
She clacks like a bag of bones
Dirty hair flops
Singing a school room tune
“The frog he would a wooing go’
It fits…….ho ho
Just wait for the rope to tangle
Frog voice break
The descent like a tinkertoy tower
Knees all mangled
Feel sorry then
When tears streak her bony face
Shirley ‘the hag’
Poor skinny baby
To the office run with broken stilts
Stumble again
Ripped to the bone maybe
..................................................................................................
For Robert Dufresne, my humor-loving friend