May 21, 2009
By Anonymous

A perfectly curvaceous body
A crown of golden curls
She smacks her perfect cherry lips
Her blue eyes are like pearls

Swaying like a summer breeze
Watchful like a hawk
A smirk forms on her perfect face
She watches as they gawk

Her skin is baby soft and white
It scorches under hate
Jealousy is burning bright
But they will meet their fate

Seductive, sly, ambitious, rich
A shining star above
Watch her as she twinkles by
Careful not to love

Bow to her as she walks
But careful of her icy heart
Perfection is her middle name
Evil is her living right

The author's comments:
This is a pastiche of an untitled poem by Emily Dickinson it was a poem in my Poetry Notebook, a class assignment

A moon was but a chin of gold

A night or two ago

And now she turns her perfect face

Upon the world below
Her forehead is the amplest blond,

Her cheek like beryl-stone,

Her eye unto the summer dew

The likest I have known
Her lips of amber never part

But what must be the smile

Upon her friend she could bestow

Were such her silver will
And what privilege to be

By the remotest star

For certainly her way might pass

Beside your twinkling door
Her bonnet is the firmament

The universe her shoe

The stars the trinkets at her belt

Her dimities of blue

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