"missy" poems
little missy mouse she just long to be a little ballerina
for all the world to see'
she took a trip to russia far across the sea
to become a dancer with a ballet company.
she packed up her tutu and tiara too
to be a ballet dancer and make her dreams come true.
she praticed all her moves and spiining on her feet
trained every single day till her training was complete
now her time had come to join a company .
and a ballerina now at last would be
she began to dance like she never danced before
little spins and pirouttes the crowd all shouted more
they stood on there feet now a star was she
a famous ballet star just like she longed to be
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 6:08 PM UTC
Butte Magic of Ignorance
Butte Magic
Is the same as no-Butte
All one light
Old Rough Roads
One High Iron
Mainway
Denver is the same
'The guy I was with his uncle was
the govornor of Wyoming'
'Course he paid me back'
Ten Days
Two Weeks
Stock and Joint
'Was an old crook anyway'
The same voice on the same ship
The Supreme Vehicle
S.S. Excalibur
Maynard
Mainline
Mountain
Merudvhaga
Mersion of Missy
4.7k
Hate the holidays well I got one for you.
Dont have to follow no rules.
Just drink till ya drop.
To what's the ocassion still ya
havent a clue.
Hey there missy.
dont **** and moan just grab a pint
ya big *****
No need for a kleenex just wipe that blood off
on your sleeve.
Stoner slacker and poets unite for
it's Thanksgiving Eve.
No need to hang anything by the
chimney with care.
But it is a party so lets see your underwear.
Lets beat the holiday blues.
Hey who's drunk and horney?
Short skirts and thoose high heel shoes.
Crank that jukebox hey grandpa theres
no need to leave.
Cause everyone is included on Thanksgiving eve.
Hey amigo if we play are cards right.
we can stir enough **** to see a chick fight.
Hey whats going on upstairs God only knows.
It's not cheating just wrestling without any
clothes.
Hey who just cut a whole in the floor?
hey grandpa ya better watch that exotic woman
your dancing with.
Cause she's a woman with a little more.
Hey ya'll the cops are coming along with a swat
team so it's my cue to leave.
but like that fat ***** in a red suit I'll
return to bring ya another great Thanksgiving Eve.
Nov 25, 2009
Nov 25, 2009 at 8:21 AM UTC
Try this! Another site I rarely visit [long since extinct by 2017], had that weekly challenge and this time it read as follows:
Using the poetic style of your choice, answer the question “Who am I?”, without using the pronoun “I”. Instead, write your “poetic biography” in 3rd person.
Here was my submission....does it make sense?
Yours Truly
(sonnet # CCCCXLVII)
No butterfly, perhaps a moth? just lent
Some precious time to try to fly while night
Reigns, ere the morning dawns. A reckless wight
E'er chasing carefree; mayhap too, half bent
Unwitting on a troubled course, intent
On fun and happiness whilst grief its plight
Imbues with sob'ring grey, as if t'indict?
Where time's misspent in tracing romance' scent?
"Forgiven" as a blessing daily sought,
Its nameplate hangs for all the world to see.
And if Truth's lessons seeming dearly bought
May mercif'ly be granted taught, 'twill be
A better ending than this vain life's wrought,
If when time's up, it flies, O LORD, to Thee.
07Jan12
D66d
By Jennifer S. Gordon aka Cheeky Missy
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 6:04 PM UTC
Better stop and think, you should watch your step
be careful what you say, don't want to get me upset
just button your lip, no need to leave a tip
time to dummy up, go away now and get yourself hip
better pack it up, go live with your mom
the life i choose is a bit too strong
take on a wild girl like me, the kind they say many just hate us
a **** i couldn't give, hey boy i'm not your waitress
"I'm not your waitress"
hey, get your eyes off me
"I'm not your mommy"
don't touch me. cause i don't work for free
"I'm no not some **** waitress"
no oh whoa ...
"I'm not your inflatable dolly or sweet lovely waitress"
i'm sick and tired of your simple mind
can't you tell by now, you're a waste of time
dont push me around, the envelope you've stretched it
my name's not Natalie Step and Fetch-it
this kinda of scene is ill for mental health
you want something? then go get it yourself
take on a power girl like me, the type they say many only hate us
a crap i couldn't give, hey boy i'm not your waitress
"I'm not your waitress"
hey, get your eyes off me
"I'm not your mommy"
don't touch me. cause i don't work for free
"I'm no not some **** waitress"
no oh whoa ...
"I'm not your waitress"
i'm sick and tired of your idiot mind
cant you tell by now, to me you're a waste of time
dont push me around, the envelope you've stretched it
please dont grab at me or slap my hot **** ***
im not interested in you, an old poor white stupid trash
too bad, you look confused and so hungry fool
i wouldn't serve you well: it takes more than any money can do
listen up!
"I'm not your waitress"
hey, get your eyes off me
"I'm not your mommy"
don't touch me. cause no no no ... i don't work for free
"I'm no not some cheap waitress"
no oh whoa ...
"I'm not your missy prissy kiss kiss kissy wa wa wa waitress"
fa fa fa fug-off jocko ****
"I'm not your waitress"
hey, get your eyes off me
"I'm not your mommy"
don't touch me. cause i don't work for free
"I'm no not some **** doh doh waitress"
no no oh oh whoa ...
...I'm not your waitress!
© 2009 david clare clairvoyant music / BMI all rights reserved
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
I’m
Paper-baggin’
It,
Paper,
Paper-baggin’
It,
“Oh lord!”
I’m paper-baggin’ it!
Alongside the rail come Neenah steel,
And foreboding, “Fox,” oh so tipsy,
Whispers, this meandering little missy.
I’m paper-baggin’ it!
And when Santa Fe’s now, near and
Her boyfriend’s whistle, prophecy’s clear,
So wills the way and away and away.
I’m
Paper-baggin’
It,
Paper,
Paper-baggin’
It,
“Oh lord!”
I’m paper-baggin’ it!
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 8:40 AM UTC
I have a list
The job is mundane, same old, same old
Murderers, conceiters, haters, ....
No remorse even at the last breath
Today is a busy day
Lots of you to claim
First on my list is a thief
He stole children for a living
And sold them to the highest bidder
Sometimes, I think the Guy upstairs is so unfair
What’s wrong with taking a child
And selling her so she’ll get a better life
Not that I’m complaining
Contrary to popular belief
Hell is kind of empty
Most people in their last living moments
Say they’re sorry and zam! I lose!
This guy is different
Peter Hinckley the Child Snatcher
He doesn’t know he’s walking into a trap
And he’ll be shot dead by the cop hiding across the street
So, here I am, Ok, Now!!
“Gotcha, come with me, Peter Hinckley!
Welcome to Hell! Where it’s always breakfast in bed! Not!
Haha!”
My next is a woman, those are rare down there
Henrietta Bugglery – “Gosh, what a name!”
Her one and only sin – loving herself too much
Till she hated everyone else
It’s not her fault, I don’t think
She has it all but wisdom
So how can it be her fault
Well I suppose she could have been better to her children
But she hated them too apparently
Ahh humans, I’ll never get them, I suppose!
Henrietta was ready but she didn’t expect Me!
Not that I’m not pretty but I have to hide my face
Seeing me sometimes jolts them back to life!
“OK, Missy, let’s go!”
“What do you mean let’s go? Who are you? And where are we going?”
“HELLLL! Missy!!”
“Who are you?”
“ Darth Vader!”
(and they say i don’t have a sense of humor)
“You mean like from Star Wars?”
“Yes, exactly that – Let’s Go!”
“I’m not going anywhere with you!”
“Oh come on, don’t make me zap you there.
I like you all to arrive happily, after all the rest of eternity is a long time”
“Get lost! I’m not coming with you!!”
“Oh well, you leave me no choice!
Welcome to Hell!”
I lift my hand and she is stretched excruciatingly (it appears) into Hell
You’d think my work is easy
Actually, it’s not
Sometimes, I wish we had some of your high tech equipments down there
Then, I won’t have to do this myself
I could have me some robots who would never mess up
Or suddenly have a soft heart like in the case of ....
Oh **** I’m saying too much!!
*P.S. Don't worry, I'm probably not coming for you
P.S.S. I lie, a lot!*
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 9:59 AM UTC
MC Lyte was lightweight
The Queen Bee was unseemly
compared to
this woman who shared you
and all you went through
And Queen Latifah wasn't half the leader
spoken word speaker
singer
soul seeker
that Oo La La
was
that Fu Gee La
was
Missy Elliot
lost her 8 stars
when she lost weight
(that's when she lost bars)
Lauryn
Lauryn Hill will always
always
be ours
she might be modest
but she'll always be
my Hip Hop Goddess
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 5:04 PM UTC
He was a poet,
She his poetry.
He was a crooner,
She his melody.
He was a painter,
She his masterpiece.
He was a monk,
She his inner peace.
He was a captain,
She his ship.
He was an admiral,
She his fleet.
He was a laddie,
She his missy.
. . .
. .
.
Now there's no more she.
Forlorn is he.
W e e p i n g.
G n a s h i n g.
W a n d e r i n g.
Stripped of...
"E v e r y t h i n g"
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 12:03 PM UTC
I was strolling through the forest of fairies
In the valley of all hopes and dreams
When I came to the pool of poetic wonder
Flowing freely from a magical stream
On the far side sat a mystical figure
Surrounded by the finest of dust
A little Missy on the other side of the water
As the day was drawing down to nights dusk
She spread her wings as light shown around her
The child like wonder in my eyes did adjust
It was then I knew I had the great fortune
To gaze upon the true beauty of fairydust
With a wink and a nod and a smile
She sang these sweet words unto me
In this pool I will swim for all time my friend
For the rhymes in it they set me free
As she dove into the crystal blue waters
The poems below splashed above her head
Giving new life to their very wanting
Love me, love you, love poetry
Were the last magical words that she said
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 7:33 AM UTC
Missy, Missy Mortimer
How does your steel heart beat?
Your bloodline oxidized by hate
Satan can’t compete.
Missy, Missy Mortimer
Who do you think you are?
A pure facade of intellect
Matched by your ugly scars.
Missy, Missy Mortimer
Obstinate, careless, crude…
Hell awaits your filthy soul
As you practice being rude.
Missy, Missy Mortimer
Insult; demean; degrade
The power you pretend to hold
In your foolish mind is made
You cast away the moral code
Or perhaps it’s just amiss
You justify your horrid ways
Your arrogance now bliss.
Manipulation, you hold dear
As if all cannot see
With precision you decide your mark
You aim, and shoot; well pleased.
Missy, Missy Mortimer
No warning you deserve
To crush and stomp on human hearts
Compassion; no reserve
Oh Missy, you may think you’ve won
A pin for your collection
You controlled and shoved me out your door
Unjustified rejection.
As soon as I can gain the strength
Forgiveness I shall find
Your ugliness is pitiful
But the Lord’s a friend of mine.
He watched you’re actions closely
He sadly shook his head
Your Father, He wants more for you
But on thin ice, you tread.
Missy, Missy, Mortimer
I pray you hear His call
Until then, you stand on the edge
Your back against the wall.
Mar 30, 2011
Mar 30, 2011 at 10:02 PM UTC
liquid crystal display
glimmering salacious self-imagery at you,
your lips parted and breath
staccatoing along, flitting just
behind the beat, like your aunt's
first dance at the wedding reception (before
she's had enough to drink) or
her last (when she's had
too much)
she was in the passenger seat
on our drive homeward, leaning in
to the driver's seat conspiratorially,
oblivious to your beauty splayed out
exhausted in the backseat.
"she's my
baby niece, and you better not
**** with her
heart, you hear me missy?"
and I assured her I wouldn't as you
laughed and laughed, bell peals
in the backseat and church bells
echoing in my ear, past and possible
future, sodium vapor lights
slipping away along the highway as
your aunt slid back into the passenger seat.
"so"
"so"
"she's quite a
character," I say, bemused, and your
eyes crinkled at the corners like
newspaper redesigned during crumpling as
kindling for the fire, blue and blue and blue
in the backseat.
"that's true"
"just like you"
"just like me" you agree,
crossing your legs, legs that go on
for dynasties in thigh highs and
your dress riding up too high for my eyes
to focus on the taillights ahead of us when
paradise is in the rearview:
love is
cold lobster bisque
in a big bowl in bed in the morning,
two spoons and a carton of orange juice
arrayed on the covers atop our
entangled legs.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 11:32 PM UTC
Decoding Her Reply
I text her, “I Love You, Missy.
Do you love me too?”
She replies,
“In a particular language,
I want you dead is coded as wv bl dy rr
My love is eternal is coded as vg rh ol nb
You are very sweet is coded as hd ev zi bl
And
I hate you stupid is coded as hg bl sy rr”
She pauses, as if for an eternity, before continuing,
“In that language, my answer is,
‘gl bl ol rr’
You decode it, lover boy.”
Now what does she mean???
Jul 17, 2022
Jul 17, 2022 at 12:10 PM UTC
Were all just machines, bound for the train station that’ll hightail us out and over
To the junkyard where we never sleep and the foundry melts us down to make room
For the new undead, but non-living, to starve for what their computers say they need.
But when you smile, your eyes show me that you have a soul inside that’s beautiful,
And it proves my heart is something more than what the factory made it for;
That my love means something more than a series of chemical reactions in my brain,
That the mornings and nights we spent were worth more than we ever knew,
And that you are someone more special to me than I have ever known.
So, as we fly down the track of grayest metals and coldest weather, into the north country
To God knows where to as the sun is at dawn and dusk at the same time,
Remember that your heart doesn’t need to be held like coal, that your eyes are soulful,
That someone, somewhere thinks you’re more than a piece of electric meat,
That I think you’re worth more than my life,—my holy hunk of steel—but don’t let that
Get to your head missy! And that when we’re laid upon the cutting board
To be scraped and melted down, I want to be laid there next to you
To kiss you one more time, while I look into your eyes, searchingly.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
Extending my sleeves past my frozen fingers,
it is -3 and handles of anything
get extremely bitter this time of year.
I fork in splinters of silage
#235 pokes her head out through the feeder.
I have plans for you Missy Moo —
well: our progeny.
Provided you’re in calf;
provided you stay in calf;
provided you calf down successfully;
provided it lives long enough to be killed.
If not, I’ll probably sell you
and buy an in-calf heifer instead.
No pressure.
Dec 22, 2010
Dec 22, 2010 at 9:44 AM UTC
Not complaining, it's just all these god forsaken *** semon demons, suckling sucubus
Take my animal, then sell the stock, it's high treason
Contraptions arachnid, stick it to me ****** and shmozy.
Lady, shady, it fades me. But by all means phase me like ******* wild eyed vixens, oops who's slipping missy.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 12:09 AM UTC
Youth had it comin'.
Shoulda never worn that pretty dress.
Shoulda never walked through that door.
Shoulda never sat
on the most rickety chair
in the joint, fallin'
on my lap th' way she did.
Kinda knew it would happen,
too. Always could tell
a fresher face-ripe for
the pickin', I always used ta
say.
*Well, now, did you step
on one of them pork-yoo-
pahns, lil missy?*
*Nice to meet you, Girl.
His name is Inevitability.
You might've missed him,
looking from the corner
of the wall opposite the back
of your head, whistling Dixie
on your bristled follicles
mid-daydream, via inhale.*
Gathered herself, laughed.
Jackpot. Told me,
after a couple drinks, that she
wasn't
any sorta damsel in de-stressss,
that she knew all. Mind you, all!
The tricks in the fairy tale
handbook. Front to back,
to boot!
Fed her Cinderella fr'm top
to bottom, ate it up like
a backwoods ******
*Speakin' of storytellin',
you wanna know what
my favorite Shake-spee-uh sayin'
is,* hm? *'s the one where
the lady wants ta be a man,
them loony Europeans.*
*Anyway, one of the guys there,
puffs up his chest n' shouts,
"Some are born great. Some
achieve greatness. N' some
have greatness just ******
right up on 'em"*
*Get up outta that chair,
pretty lady, and get ready
for a time you ain't* ever
gon' forget
*It was then that nightfall
spilled over like a broken ink bottle,
salivated over the horizon with
the hunger of a bleeding river's mouth
as all our girdles loosened,
and with the last protracted sigh
of metallic wisdom, hushed our
brigade of inner children's choirs,
massaged the cramp settled
on the back of our left legs,
turned out the lights,
and went to sleep.*
Jan 18, 2011
Jan 18, 2011 at 6:34 PM UTC
Richie Richie
Itchy and
******
Richie Richie
Never was
Twitchy
Richie Richie
Chose the
Bad Missy
**Richie may have been
Itchy, ****** never twitchy, and chose the bad missy,
but guess how he is now.**
***A fishy hippie
who became less ******
not to forget, always twitchy.
Got a good missy and
now, is sixty.***
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 10:00 PM UTC
I guess it's
Been four years now
She turned up here homeless
She was old
Even then
Those used teats
The grey on her jowl
Lonely. So loving.
She's followed me
Like my shadow
Ever since
And don't believe
A dog can't smile
In my absences
She'll sit by the door
Until I come back
I'm 60 now.
Just had a birthday.
And this black Labrador
Beauty gave me the honor
Of crawling up next
To me as I went to sleep
She rarely has done before.
And it made me wonder
How I want to die before her
I don't think I could stand
Losing her
But thought
Of what would happen
To her
If I went before
And this isn't poetry
It's a love story
About two lonely orphans
Who found someone
Who loves them more
Than life itself
And how
Much love
Can mean
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 4:07 AM UTC
Watching the man sleep neurotically in bed
I thought of you,
And the time we talked over stale donuts and cold coffee.
I remember writing letters to you, Missy
And sending you "all my love" --
Anyway,
I was meaning to ask you,
Did you save any of it?
I could really use it back now
It's not for me, you understand.
I remember telling my friends:
"If you see Missy, give her my love"
And I was always afraid they would.
Missy, you're really no different
than the man I'm watching sleep neurotically in bed.
And I'm sorry Missy,
all the stale donuts and cold coffee in the world
couldn't change us now.
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC
The last time I saw you
You brought Toffee
Purple daisy, red lilies
Stinky Missy and daffodils’
You put them in the vase,
I panic and said “who die?
We were stunned
and asked each other: Why now?
After all these years
Truce!
Love has not any pride
Ten years together
We never spoke
For goodness sake!
Can’t you see I am trying my best:
woman!
Stop you *******
you had *** with my sister!
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 6:41 AM UTC
Pay attention!
rap rap
said the big fat bus,
with the big fat bootay.
i say
i have something
to say
to you!
a wee bit of advice to you
you so sweet
young lasses
out and about
on hot summer nights
in camaros
and vans
and pintos
and mustangs.
and mom's
station wagon's.
# 1
when that eager
young lad's hands
are a crawlin' all over
you.
yes YOU missy,
your sweet nubile
young territory,
the time will come
when you shall
want all these
shennanigans to
STOP!
so i give to thee
some wee
words of advice.
#2
Be firm with your delivery.
Do not waver.
Strong even voice,
increase volume if
necessary.
to the
Kind sir,
the,
young lad..
say!
i do not beg you,
i command thee ...
be sure to understand!
keep those roving
hands to thyself.
for you can
rest assured,
this playground is closed!
this is a no nookey zone!
#3
blue *****
you claim,
they are a ailing you?
for you i give
this sound advice,
say!
introduce yourself
to your right hand,
and ifn' you be a wantin'
a menage eh of three,
invite
your,
left hand
to
come along!
#4
Be firm and be sure,
you are sitting on
a sacred fortune of gold,
don't let them
miners be gropin'
around,
be a gropin'
you.
it is only for you
to sacredly unfold
your divine
femininin-ess.
if you want to do it,
do it...
but search your heart long before you do.
at least think you are in love
before taking the plunge.
first loves are sweet
and last long
in hidden recesses of
mysterious minds.
take your time,
30 and more,
is the age
we big fat busses
with big fat yellow bootays
come into our own.
no rush.
nowhere to go.
all the time in the world to get there.
there is,
i assure you,
no rush.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 10:56 PM UTC
She claims he moves the trees
every time he cuts the field,
expanding and changing the view from
the living room window.
The laws of Nature and
the roots of trees being what they are,
I know she really means
he's her Magic Man
and this farm is his crystal cave.
His familiar, a spark of a dog
they've named Missy,
roams in and out of
the magic of this place at will,
appearing and disappearing from one breath to the next.
The laws of Nature and
the nature of dogs being what they are,
I know that some dogs, and things,
are like that:
magical to the bone.
c. Roberta Compton Rainwater 2014
to my sister
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 2:25 PM UTC
I am really not passible
Just **** as possible
For a well-worn *****
And, they call me Missy
Because I don’t think I can
Act like a masculine man
So spare me your hissy fit
Go someplace and get over it.
I can walk well in high heels
Don’t need any training wheels.
My taste in clothes is excellent
Not the slightest bit recalcitrant.
I’m fully into the new club scene
About half way to a drag queen.
One more piece of women’s wear
I’ll be ready to go about anywhere.
My movements are very delicate
And that is, of course, deliberate.
You get more if you advertise
And some assets I can’t disguise.
I’m six feet tall in my stocking feet
As spicy as Red Hots and twice as sweet.
If you don’t like your she-girls tall
Then you don’t know what’s good at all.
You’ll find me in cabarets, everywhere.
We’ll be up at the bar or in a chair
Showing off our legs and swinging
Lip-synching the words the juke is singing.
We’ll appreciate a drink, if you are buying,
We’ll make your day complete without trying.
We’re full of fun and know lots of jokes.
We’re a short vacation for the right blokes.
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 11:31 PM UTC
Oh this twinkling city.
“Come on over --
We have the night life.”
My car is two blocks away, just past,
just past these neon lights now.
Just past these long-legged, bustiered signs.
Come here missy, come in.
Come on, hon - you want to dance?
We need girls to dance.
Walk on, purse-clutching city woman.
Oh this dancing city
Oh this shattered city.
Dec 29, 2017
Dec 29, 2017 at 2:06 PM UTC