Princess LilyPad Poems
A minor oversight
I have had a face my whole entire life That fairly enchanted, my body swift and lithe Eyes like a cat, lips like pillows plush And with every next glance of an old man’s greedful touch
If I Was A Sheep
I want to relate a regret I want to not lose respect I have these hard things I have these horrible things
Branded Bridal Blues
The lives of our times, these days anymore aren’t so much ours, their yours and then their kinda mine, The riddles in our rhymes, aren’t so much sung for each other anymore, in fact, not most times The lilt in our voices, have gone flat from too many untaken back swipes and further disrespectful choices The grins we used to swap, are mostly drowned out by angered, juvenile and know it better than you voices.
The Sixth Sense In Your Pants
My eyes gaze upon you Memorize every dip and angle Know it all and say now forever Deborah's seen your face
Giving Up The Ghost
Polarized by a blanket of s$%T That covers every guilt, every glance, every pit Fingertips, lips, slip and fit Until its all it is and all that's it.
My Bad Man
Night sweats im on the bed No twinkly stars seen with this head Just a cold cold room With you gone its just a room
Feast for a Faker
It’s hard to say What the whore knows How the pure cry How the graceful pose.
If I had to point you out in a crowd, Designate your disguise, I’d tell the wonderer to look amongst his peers To find a magic man’s eyes
An elf on my shelf
Small little feet little buns little hands, The delicate bones that form a true baby grand, Flecks of light that bounce from his boyish silken crown, Of fine hazelnut hairs tousled all around.
Fable me, like your fancy dancer Trouble me like the corner bum Life ahead it stands to suffer Drink me death from a bottle of rum
The poetry Clock
On paper it becomes fact On paper it stares back On paper we are striken With the facts that demand as well as take
A Mad Mad Mothers Mistake
Left left not right she's left Took off in a flurry with vodka on her breath Stepped on the gas, went south like it was her last step And it was, for nightly there ever after she's softly wept
The Silent Doll
I could blow, I wouldn’t dare If I make a move I know you are there.
I die in our arms yet suffer no ill, I squander hours in swarms, bored but believing this trill. Of fated, stated, real love musical swirl.
Comments about Princess LilyPad
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
A minor oversight
I have had a face my whole entire life
That fairly enchanted, my body swift and lithe
Eyes like a cat, lips like pillows plush
And with every next glance of an old man’s greedful touch
To be grown up they said, was important now became all the rush
I have seen the labored breathing of old dogs
I did sashay down sidewalks in stuffed training bras.
I have used my tongue to draw juice from ice pops
And had to run away from offers of rides with raised rocks
But still only was i perfecting my best game of hopscotch.
It made my father cringe, as I grew into my ...