Billie

I wrote this poem for Joan Crawford. She's one of my favorite actresses, and definitely my girl crush. She was far more beautiful than people give her credit for nowadays. Not to mention a hell of a lot more talented than most entertainers these days (she could REALLY sing, dance, and act; nothing about her was mediocre). So, this weeks poem, entitled "Billie," is written just for that true star and legend.

Her eyes were blue and shining,
her skin was white as snow.
Her smile warmed the spirit,
and her voice would smoothly flow.

The outside, made of porcelain;
her core was made of stone.
She was headstrong and undaunted
in the face of the unknown.

Like the rose, a treasured beauty,
and abundant were her thorns.
But imperfections scatter
‘neath the footstall she adorns.

We regard her as a Goddess-
a deity of the arts.
She’s the empress of extravagance;
the queen of broken hearts.

But if we lift the golden veil
we’ll see what lies behind the glamour:
a child, sweet and impish,
with the power to enamor.

As Joan, Miss Crawford, Mommie Dearest,
alas, we knew her well.
But Billie wields the charming wand-
‘tis she who casts the spell.