"updo" poems
Light brownish **** lip stain to match the season,
Gold eye liner to make my brown eye color lighter,
Concealer and foundation to even out the skin tone,
bronze pink blush to add a bit of color and define my cheek bones,
Medium brown eyebrow pencil to perfect my eyebrows,
A stripped black and tan shirt with a brown scarf, blue jeans and black boots;
Hair is in a delicate curly updo so that my face gets more attention,
Burberry perfume to bring a soft delicate trail of her aroma,
my make up looks natural yet it adds color and defines the beautiful features of my face.
I do this not to cover my flaws,
not because I am insecure,
not for attention,
Simply because I want to pamper myself.
simply because I deserve to look pretty.
simply because I want to be as beautiful on the outside that I am on the inside.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 12:13 PM UTC
✿⊰✲⊱✿
"She's finally here!" Sue claps as we all rise
from our seats and walk to the Ballroom.
There they are, atop the marble steps!
Queen Donna and Dean of proud Vesian,
both dressed in bright red. The couple faces
each other with loving smiles as the cacophony
of cheers and claps echoes through the great
Luciuscemi Palace.
✿⊰✲⊱✿
From afar, I study Donna's beautiful gown;
the shade of wine, made of velvet, her sleeves
long and puffed. Her bodice embrodiery is
extraordinary; patterned with red Rose of Vesian,
but since her marriage, she added a white
one. The embrodiery comes alive under the
light of chandelier; glittering with intricately
cut rubies and agates and sunstones for
Donna's red roses, emeralds and peridots
for the coiling stems and thorns, quartz
and white opals and moonstones for
the white roses.
✿⊰✲⊱✿
Her hair in a curly updo, ringlets framing
her wise and kind face with a simple white
diamond tiara resting upon her head; a simple
rose chain and earrings to complete her look.
In contrast, King Dean wears a deep crimson
coat of red and white roses brocade that falls
past his knees and above his ankles;
slits on the sides and on the back as well,
I imagine. I can see the black lining
underneath that fine coat.
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 6:10 PM UTC
There is something undeniable about this new aesthetic:
Barefoot and barely presentable
as I slow-dance in the kitchen at 3am
Nobody but me, my shadow and a gentle grey kitten who patiently watches me pour another cup of coffee.
I stir in cinnamon,
a taste that's heedy and all too sweet against the roof of my mouth.
So strong it makes me want to gag,
and yet I sing under my breath:
old tunes I have no business remembering
and lullabies brought to me on the wind
[singing] all you have is fire
-and the place you have to reach.
My mother wanted a girl she could put together like a jigsaw.
A girl who would sit still and patiently endure
the effort it took to construct
the perfect plat, perfect updo
perfect winged eyeliner, perfect blush
perfect poise, perfect dress,
Perfect daughter.
Instead she had me
a muddled and confused thing
with a tangled mess of curls and eyes that couldn't quite look away.
Something with ***** fingers that knew the give and take of every leaf and blade of grass
something that couldn't sit still on creaking church pews
because for all the beauty they pursued, she'd seen the unmatched grace of rolling thunder
and the indisputable life of the ocean.
While other girls watched the boy chase the girl to a perfect kiss
she worshiped the women who took up their weapons and refused to keep their peace. - A child raised on a steady diet of Victorian poetry, Greek myth and poison. Stitched together with images of Artemis, Scottish women and a heathenish name.
My mother would lead me in prayer each night before bed, hoping against all hope to change what was in me. But my father made me wonder if I could be a knight one day, taught me to sing their vows of honour and justice during those ungodly hours when sleep was far.
The hours when his blood called to us both in its ancient tongue. The hours where his stories became my Bible. The hours when the smell of lemongrass and rain filled the house.
The hours when I would be barefoot and dancing in the kitchen
Barely presentable yet undeniably free.
Jun 18, 2020
Jun 18, 2020 at 7:01 AM UTC
there are good souls in this world
shrouded in weathered skin
dry and cracked
with scowls hung upon their face
balancing on the scars of their brow
just as there are bad souls in this world
hiding under plush skin
their faces adorned with kind eyes and
cherry red lips made for kissing
or spitting with rage
picture a gorgeous brunette
with fair skin, bold eyebrows
and her hair in a subtle
yet nineteen-thirties style updo
wearing a red chiffon summer dress
the sun beats down on her
as she glistens with light perspiration
espresso in-hand cigarette in the other
her pale soft skin no match for
the thirty degree heat outside
of this café she nonchalantly finds herself
she is the epitome of carefree beauty
she kicked her lovers dog outside this morning
exiling him to a six hour long toilet break
after she "forgot" she had let him out
before leaving to go shopping
whilst her feller finished his shift
because the dog is old and smelly
and gets almost as much attention as her
she even saw his pensioner neighbour
struggling to take the bins out
as she walked to her car
and laughed rather than help
because she always
thought Mary was a no good Jew
she even called her Mrs. Goldstein
"Have a nice day Mrs. Goldstein."
but Mary's surname is Cohen
picture this beautiful girl a siren
leading good men astray
she can get any man she wants
and plucks only the finest
most succulent
I mean successful
and well put together men
from gardens of bachelors
maturing in the hardships of city life
she has plenty choice but she's fickle
you see, her man has to be almost perfect
for it to be as enjoyable as possible
to watch his life unravel and unfold
into everything he wanted it not to be
achievable only through toxic beauty
her joy is venom soaked insides
of lovers caught in a sultry web
of lies, ambition and ***
she loves a scandal
or a text sent to the wrong person
and she has everything to hide
but does nothing to do so
she gets by just fine
being beautiful and sickening
and sickeningly beautiful
you know the sort
she is a bad, bad girl
Feb 1, 2021
Feb 1, 2021 at 9:07 PM UTC
circumstances changes the
man-you-al
neglects you,
negligence a criminal offense
against a young woman’s
every essenced senses,
neglect is regret coming
the unthinkable
that I guess is the
“not me joke”
neon sign
winking and buzzing
endless
by doctors orders(!):
stop being a macho idiot,
get thee to a
nail salon,
redo
updo
thyself
from toes
to fingertips
in a
remarkable stunner
of a
pink,
that says to
those glaring untruths
of unworthiness
I am beautiful
and
I
will be loved
if you only
think
pink
Oct 19, 2024
Oct 19, 2024 at 8:35 AM UTC
Take the pills, they say
It’ll make the pain go away
Rather than address the root causes
Let’s fill her with antidotes
Temporary solutions
Hopeful lies.
Take this for your skin
Don’t question why you’re out of balance
Why there’s a correlation with the stress in your life and the budding mountains on your face
Instead of bursting at the seams
Blood vessels burst in your face
Don’t question the fact that a man will never caress your face
Because they’ll be met with medians and potholes instead of a smooth ride to beauty
Don’t question that you’ll never get to try the new updo
In fear of scaring men away by bearing too much of your imperfect skin
No man will attempt to mount the peaks of your troubles.
Take this to stop nature’s course
To allow any man to do what he wants and not have to worry about accidents or entrapments
Not have to ever take responsibility for mistakes
And they’ll call it your safety and security.
Take this for the searing pain that flashes behind your eyes and leaves you in bed on the most beautiful days of your life, unable to function
We’ll stuff you full of preventers and painkillers and not ask why a twenty-year-old has the stress of a soldier on the battlefield
We’ll ignore the pressures of school and money and relationships
So we don’t have to talk about it.
It’ll all wash away, when you wash down those pills.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC