Have you heard the story,
in all of it's fun and glory.
It is about a young girl named Lori,
she went with a boy named John Dory.
She went running to the lavatory,
was this going to become inflammatory?
Eating blue cheese and old pickles each day,
sitting by the bay.
Her boyfriend John Dory just wanted to play,
she kept saying no way.
Now on her birthday,
she is getting a baby not a blue jay.
Once upon a time, a hidden song was sung,
In shadows cast, where innocence was young.
A whisper carried in the still of night,
A soul confined, seeking a flicker of light.
Within the pages of a diary's embrace,
A world unfolded, penned with grace.
Thoughts unbound, carried on unseen wings,
A reflection of a girl with secret dreams.
In silence, she painted a world so vast,
Between the lines, her hopes steadfast.
Amidst the chaos, a voice of unwavering truth,
A beacon of light in the darkness, uncouth.
Through the walls of time, her spirit flies,
Touching hearts, reaching across the skies.
A testament to courage in the face of fear,
A legacy etched in each hidden tear.
So let her words echo through the ages,
A reminder of resilience in history's pages.
In the quiet whisper of a hidden room,
Anne Frank's life blooms beyond the gloom.
Forced into hiding from the Nazi's, Young Anne's account moves me to tears
Mom: “Beware
guys that smile
all the time!”
Dad: “Avoid
boys that don’t
smile a lot!”
Older sis:
“Girl, you know
they conspire!”
January 27, 2023
written for the Tricube Contest
Sponsor: Sara Kendrick
If I should paint a day in May,
it must portray a distant time.
Young girl in sunlit garden's way,
her long skirt falls in folds sublime.
Her basket has been over-filled--
lilacs, roses, lavender rest
among blooms so secretly spilled
upon a day in May so blest.
May 5, 2022
for A Lay for a Day in May poetry contest
by Andrea Dietrich
howmanysyllables.com
Second Place!
I once walked with you on Lombard Steet.
Little Maria~with the the western golden sun
Highting your long, shiny brunette hair.
Your tiny patent, Mary Janes, blessing the San
Francisco Streets.
It is all now just a foglifter's dream.
Dreams past and gone too fast!
Now you pat my head and hold my hand.
Assuring me my hip will definitely heal.
And with me ~ you will always stand.
Me, wishing, we were on Lombard Street.
Climbing the hills, on Cable Cars laughing.
But time has its way with us.
Never knowing what's coming our way,
A new day, a new surprise!
What a daughter, a hundred percenter dream
of a woman!
You must know by now, Maria, that you are..
My rainbow, twinkling, heavenly star!
Twinkle, twinkle, my little Maria.
God be with you, wherever you are....
June 14, 2020
10:00 pm PST
Poem # 1, 242
The lone rose never asked for much
and never once complained…
She was happy when the sunlight reached her
and when her petals filled with rain.
She grew outside the young girls window
and always found a way
to stand a little straighter
when the young girl smiled her way.
Not once did the young girl forget her…
for every day she chose
to open her window, smile, wave
and say, “Good Morning!” to her rose.
And they were happy with their relationship…
It made the girl and her rose glow…
until the change of seasons
and the fall winds began to blow..
Soon it would be winter
When her single rose would die
and so the young girl and the rose
prepared to say goodbye.
“What can I do for you?” The young girl asked
“since you’ve given so much to me?
The rose had but one request
“Can you take me to the sea?”
“I’ve seen the sun, the moon the stars
I’ve seen the birds the trees and more…
but I would love once before I’m gone
if I could see the shore.”
And so they traveled to the shore
to where the ocean meets the sky…
and here they sat and watched the waves
and it was here they said goodbye.
If a young girl cries in her bedroom,
And no one’s around to hear it,
Does it make a sound?
What say of the echoing of her screams,
Her whimpers in the night,
And her fists she'll use to pound.
Disregard her furrowed brows,
Her tangled hair,
And her smile yet to be found.
Drops of innocence trailing down her cheek,
The universe fading from her eyes,
And her heart falling to the ground.
Will she tough it out and be brave,
Picking up her shattered pieces,
Leaving everyone else around?
Or will she give up and give in to the pain,
Causing her heart to grow cold,
Stuck in the same place she was bound?
No matter her choice,
Her heart still aches,
And her life fades into the background.
But if a young girl cries in her bedroom,
And no one’s around to hear it,
Of course it makes a sound.
There was a young girl from Marfee
Her nickname was young cute blondie.
Teeth were all rotted
Men were all sotted
She's a firm forty-two double dee.
I met a young girl today,
and I treated her as such.
This young girl I met today,
made the mask fall off my face,
when she taught me about grace!
date: 4/21/19
Young Girl of Calais
There was a young girl of Calais
Who dreamed of dancing ballet
But with her two left feet
and not quite petit
Cest non, said the Calais ballet
every young girl is
a fresh beautiful flower
show your love practically
do not pluck it
do not touch it
do not eat it
leave it there
to grow and bear fruit
but how can it bear fruit,
if you do not touch?
Hey, touch it with kind heart,
not that rough finger!
The young girl had come to live with them
that summer.
The young girl told the older step-sister that
Her initials were the same as hers.
She asks: Who's initials are you talking about?
The young girl says you know.
The girl that walks in the graveyard.
I told your mom the first day I was here.
Your dad looked at me and said,
There is no ghost out there.
As I wrote in my journal this night.
It made me shiver to think there was
A ghost floating around somewhere.
I ask my dad the next day
As he was out back sitting
on the bench with his typewriter.
He was a writer, you see.
So I ask, why dad, why?
Did you know there was an old
graveyard out there in the woods?
My dad looks up from his typewriter
And says: look we bought this house
And surrounding property to get away.
From the noisy city and traffic jams.
As I looked toward the edge of our property
I shivered to think there was a ghost looming.
3/2/2018 wrote last night
Who is this unusual woman whose essence calls to me?
I have not heard that siren call since I was fancy-free.
How can such a little creature radiate such animation
That lights my aged heart like a festive celebration.
Youthful little girl, what lies behind your eyes so clear? Perhaps you can impart some hidden new frontier.
Her black hair in tiny pigtails, her bangs upon her face,
Remind me of a youthful time and a delicate embrace.
Her little petite glasses slipping down her lovely nose,
As if they were also searching for some forgotten prose.
Always prancing round like a little fawn that Hears
Some secret song that makes her persevere.
Please share that song that makes you so sincere.
I knew that melody but now it brings a tear.
A tear of happiness to know that someone hears it clear.
Please sing that song to me and I will hold it dear.
She was a young girl and he was a gentleman and she was pregnant with his child
it was a hit and run all over the news .young girl killed while pregnant husband left alone and devasted.up from heaven above she could see him transparent and bright as she was .you got one more chance to say goodbye tonight the angel said.the girl agreed but she lied.
She went to the house that night the house of her murder and to were his pregnant wife lay she ever so softly cursed her with sadness then the murders wife hung herself.
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