Monday, November 27, 2006

32 - Cinderella

Rating: 5.0
Running towards her pumpkin
At the stroke of midnight
Her lost slipper upon the stair
In the silver majestic moonlight
The fairytale turns to dust
As the witching hour begins
Down in the forgotten cellar
Her sorrow and pain she sings
So not to loose her memories of this night’s enchantment
She tearfully produces ink of thoughts onto peasant parchment
Recumbent but weary on her bed of mice invested hay
Crying her self to sleep still and alone Cinderella lay
The next morning prince charming comes round
With the clear glass slipper he had found
A gentleman he lowers down on one knee, while Cinderella sits
Drawing eloquent smiles as the slipper perfectly fits
nicola burkett
Sarah Mcrae 13 June 2013
lovely :) great job with this one.
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Ana Monnar 03 September 2007
That was good! You created your poem very cleverly.
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Duncan Wyllie 19 May 2007
Those last two lines so fitting, Love shall conquer all! Love duncan X
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Tailor Bell 04 December 2006
that moment of despair between the evenning joy and morning discover is well portrayed in this verse. fine write, Nicola. -Tailor
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Original Unknown Girl 27 November 2006
How beautifully you capture this fairytale! I liked this poem a lot Nicola..... great write! HG: -)
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