She always yelled at him
before her grand entrance.
“Harry, crank up that wind machine!”
Then she’d wind up those hips
get the feathers quiverin’
and strut out on stage,
fans strategically placed.
She wanted to entrance the blokes,
not wound their swoonin’ heart.
Sally Rand, born Helen Gould Beck, was an American burlesque dancer most noted for her ostrich fan dances and her balloon bubble dances. She was mot active from 1925 to 1979.
Known for dabbling in couture,
Dora decorated herself
like you would your house,
mimicking holiday seasons.
They thought her daft
and could only laugh
as she walked down the street
in a Christmas wreath,
at their annual Easter parade.
Her reward?
Most Unusual Bonnet.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. It’s Quadrille Monday and De asks us to use the word “dabble” in our quadrille: a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. I went for humor today — figure we can all use a little chuckle in these upsetting, challenging and unusual times.
He sat straight-backed, alert,
surrounded by canes, walkers
tv guides, checkerboard games
and the people that accompany them
in a place like this.
Hands folded, he waited patiently
for the last strands of that age-old song.
Some high pitched warblers sang off pitch,
hunched over the tinny piano
pulled out for occasions like this.
Balloons hovered above his head
as candles dripped life-time moments
onto pastel fondant flowers.
He spied the festive paper plates,
too thin for the thick slab he desired.
And so I asked the centenarian,
what is the secret of your longevity?
Well sonny, I always say,
close your eyes to dream.
Just make sure you open them wide
to watch where you step.
Written for Open Link Night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Bjorn will host as we go live today from 3 to 5 PM Boston time. Those who post a poem will have the opportunity to read it aloud, if they choose to do so. Come share the fun, connect names with faces and hear the voices of many dVersers!
She lives life sunny-side up,
happily choosing to ignore
everyday eggasperations.
Definitely not a cook.
Her souffle pan, Calphalon pots
and ten-speed blender?
Simply signs of her optimistic soul.
Gymnast by profession,
she tumbles her way
through the three-ringed circus
everyone else calls life.
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. I’m tending the pub tonight, asking everyone to indulge in a happiness project!
Poems must be exactly 44 words in length, sans title, and the body of the poem must include the word happiness. A form of the word, for example happy, happiest, or happily is acceptable. A synonym such as bliss does not meet the requirements of the prompt.
I thought I’d have a bit of fun with mine. Photo from Pixabay.com
Five dogs stayed impatiently
on a park bench, sitting dutifully.
“She’s coming by soon!
The bitch makes us swoon.
Stop posing us so photogenically!”
Photo taken on yesterday’s walk along the Charles River.
Neighborhood eccentric
a bit askew,
dressed for the decades
always strutted her stuff.
Peered out on the sixties
in tortoise cats-eye glasses,
black beret rakishly tipped
atop henna dyed hair.
Artistic in the seventies,
she embroidered purple zigzag
on turquoise gaucho pants.
Donned gaily colored tie-dyed tops.
Now ninety-four,
spiffy on her daily walks.
White gauzy lace gloves
firmly grasp walker handlebars.
Feet move deliberately.
Frilly laced anklets,
inside patent leather
Mary Janes.
Everyone smiles
as she lights up the street,
battery operated bulbs
on her Christmas wreath hat.
Written for Misky’s Twiglet prompt #184.
THE DREAM CATCHER
Her dreams flew by
on gossamer wings,
too high to reach some days,
even on tiptoes.
THE ELDERLY MRS HOLIDAY
Waste not want not.
She’d heard that all her life
lived by it too –
Christmas wreath upon her head
ready for the Easter parade.
THE SENATOR
With perfect pitch,
opera singer by avocation
and meteorologist by training,
he became a successful politician.
Elected term after term,
he simply changed his tune
depending on how the winds blew.
THE LIBRARIAN
She collected books.
Being of short stature
she carried a stack wherever she went,
booster seats not always available.
The Office Achiever
He fancied himself a jockey
riding the backs of many
on his way to the top spot.
The Malcontent
He fancied himself a botanist
dropping seeds of discontent
in every conversation he joined.
Two-Faced
Adept in two careers . . .
meteorologist and politician.
A pinch of fog blurs reality
wearing either suit.
The Planner
Architect by trade
he drew blueprints for his life.
Meticulous plans.
Until she walked in one sultry night,
right angles upset by curves.
Handstand acrobat.
Mainly small time gigs,
circus tents in rural areas.
Environmentalist at heart.
Some thought her silly
giving up two weeks of pay,
assisting farmers in their fields.
Strange sight though,
legs in the air.
Pollen dusted knees
moving through acres,
attracting bees.
Quadrille (exactly 44 words, sans title) written for dVerse where today the prompt word is “silly” – or any form of the word. Photo from Pixabay.com
Another birthday?
Oh God to be young again!
Rid of the grey, the wrinkles.
To live those carefree days again.
Pimples? A crush on what’s-his-name?
High school cliques and watching Elvis gyrate?
No-Doze to pass Dr. Parkander’s killer exams?
Grad school living off hot dogs and beans?
Note to self:
Put all the candles on the cake.
Blow them out in thanksgiving
instead of blow-hard forgetfulness.
Day 20 of National Poetry Writing Month. Today at Toads, the prompt is to write about a wish that would somehow produce something not as good as what you’d hoped for – when good wishes go bad.
lillian the home poet 