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Best Clothes Poems

Below are the all-time best Clothes poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of clothes poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Premium Member Poem | Details | Clothes Poem | |

Dead tree

Dead tree.

She stands there like she has for years
The life in her all gone
Once she wore a coat of green
And she'd be filled with song
As feathered friends of every kind
Would rest among her leaves
And as in life the same in death
Our tree will never grieve.

So all alone, she looks, this tree
All etched against black clouds
Although the life in her be gone
She stands there looking proud
And all her majesty is seen
By those with eyes to see
I take her picture once again
Try to catch her mystery

21 September 2013 @1920hrs.

Premium Member Poem | Details | Clothes Poem | |

Things People Wear From A to Z

A is for Aprons, like Moms used to wear.
B is for Barrettes that adorn young girls’ hair.

C is for Coats, many colors and styles.
D is for Diamonds, best friends that brings smiles.

E is for Elbow pads skateboarders use.
F is for Flippers folks might wear on a cruise.

G is for Gowns, to wear out . . . or to bed!
H is for Helmets - Hard Hats for one’s Head.

I is for Indian saris so bright.
J is for Jewelry that dazzles at night.

K is for Kilts used by Scotts, do you know?
L is for Lingerie, a woman’ peep show!

M is for Masks to look scary or funny.
N is for Necklaces from your sweet honey.

O is for Overalls, comfy for big men.
P is for Pajamas, so easy to fit in.

Q is for a Quilted skirts and jackets too.
R is for Rags - what our worn clothes turn into!

S is for Shorts, for a day warm and glad.
T is for Ties that we all give to Dad.

U is for Underwear. I can see France!
V is for Vest. It enhances your pants.

W is for Wig, great when hair has been shorn.
X is for Xmas clothes too rarely worn.

Y is for Yamaka - only for Jews.
Z is for Zippered, the clothes over buttoned ones that I would choose!

Oh, the things we’ve been wearing since Adam and Eve
first started it off by just wearing their leaves!

For the ABC Contest of CYNDI MACMILLAN

Written by Andrea Dietrich, a big fan of poetry and PoetrySoup.

| Details | Clothes Poem | |

Beautiful people

People make me smile the way 
their eyes shine when they talk 
about something they love 
when they feed me food. Or tell 
me how much they love me 
when I look into someone's 
eyes and see it I see that look 
in their eyes I see love in them 
When I see someone laugh and 
have fun in what they do 
The way they cry for there lost 
ones
When they give me a smile and 
tell me how beautiful I am 
People are beautiful well some 
are and I wish someday I can 
find someone who will look at 
me and say "you have that look 
in your eye"    what look?
"Happiness" 
I want to find someone so 
beautiful in the inside I can't 
stay away they amaze me with 
what they say an do how they 
will dance in the rain and know 
every detail about me
Will bring me Starbucks on a 
rainy day and just talk about 
the stars 
I want someone beautiful

| Details | Clothes Poem | |

the circle of life

A predator among us.
A villian in our midst.
An entity of evil,
Clouding up our wits.
Preying on the innocent.
Devouring the strong.
A sycophant immortal.
Unbound by right and wrong.
White wool adorning
The curves of their form.
Cloven hooves dragging
on the ground with the worms.
No hoofprints behind them.
just the four toed paws
dotted at the tips
by their long and angry claws.
Nature is a cruel being.
Creating monsters in her storms.
No one understands
And everyone is torn.
The prey will always villify
those who are higher than they
on the food chains bottom
the sheep will always stay.
The wolves are meant to feed
without remourse consume
The psyches of the weak
to bring them to their doom.
The sheep will bleat and bellow
in fear of those wolves
And try to justify their blindness
by stamping hard their hooves.
Hiding in the herd,
the prey upon their back
the predators facade
turns their wool to black.
Such is natures way.
No one is at fault.
The circle of life.
The predators of thought.
For who can blame the hungry beast
for eating to survive
When you people create such feasts
And tantalize our eyes.
We can not feel guilty
for gaining our sustenance.
consider this my fealty
for i shall not repent.

Premium Member Poem | Details | Clothes Poem | |

THERE'S A NIP IN THE AIR

The north wind is blowing and it’s turning cold I’m feeling quite chilly I guess I’m getting old I’ve finally dug out my sexy thermal vest It’s snug and warm and covers my hairy chest It’s silky and soft and causes no ripples Hides my boobies and covers my nipples Jan Allison 15th October 2014

Premium Member Poem | Details | Clothes Poem | |

Sockspeare Thou

Sockspeare, Thou!

Tonight I sensed the arts' demise
and thought of your indecent writ
that could be used to kill the flies
that buzz above your perfumed feet.

To liberate what's kept inside
you must allow yourself to dart
where inspiration poisoned died 
cause of your mindless abstract art.

But this is wrong! The muses went
(because your odored feet emit
condensed that deathly worn socks scent) , 
outside to breathe! Lickety split! 

Your mind, surprisingly, expressed
what could be taken for a verse
tormented nostrils were suppressed
their agonized intake was terse.

Your fans, inhaling the extrait
(those well worn socks let loose with pride)    
decided to command in verse
what should be buried cause it died.

They called it 'poem' but was known
that flies, somehow, became extinct, 
bystanders run to wear cologne, 
your Sockspeare theme, was thus succinct.

Those blackened socks you wore around
with plastic sneakers, bought on sale,
became the cause the fish have drowned
and deathly scents were to curtail.

Please tell us why thy feet perfumes
became the symbol of foot-prose?
Dug up feet-ology exhumes
what should be listed to dispose.

© 10-13-2013, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic tetrameter)
(funny, lol!)

| Details | Clothes Poem | |

Across the Way - The Sequel

Another day and the dishes have piled up yet again
So back I end up in front of the window 
I do not glance up, but concentrate
On the dull, dirtied objects before me
I do not hear the voices from yesterday
I still wallow in the grime of gray
I smile in malcontent
As I lather the dishes with soap
Against my will, I look up 
To see a lone, fat man opening a refrigerator
He is shirtless, bulgy, and he looks pregnant
My first supposition is to laugh
But I only look back down at the dishes
Not wanting to stare at the fat man
Not wanting to think he looks pregnant
For sure not wanting him to be my neighbor
Across the way

Against my will again, I look up
The fat, pregnant man is gone
I see ornaments on the refrigerator
Some pictures, some magnets
Family; not so different from my life
But yet, there is a transparent fancy of mystery
A flashy rage of difference in the silence
Oh, so quiet
The blazing sun sprays its light upon the hour
Not only are my hands wet from the soapy water
The deafening tone of quietude
Revels in me a mixture of loneliness and physical heat
A burning desire for something not seen
A desire for utter disgust of my newly found neighbors
But I find myself not disgusted at all
Until I look up again and see a fully naked man at the window
Across the way

| Details | Clothes Poem | |

What hurt's me the most

Every time your not next to me
I fell like your being distant

Every time your saying mean things
It makes me feel like you don't love me at all

Every time we argue
It hurts me so much it makes me want to hurt myself

Every time you give me an attitude
I feel like your bringing me down

Every time your angry at things I tell you
It makes me feel like you hate me

Every time you look away from me
I feel like you don't want to be with me

Every time I try to joke around 
You get mad at the jokes I make

But what hurts me the most
Is the way you accuse me of cheating

Premium Member Poem | Details | Clothes Poem | |

Mother's Aprons

I remember so well the calico aprons that my Mother wore.
She made them from feed sacks that Father needed no more.
She wore them mainly to keep her pretty dresses pristine,
But she found so many other uses for them in her daily routine.

She used them to gather eggs from the henhouse nests,
And to shoo from her garden, crows and other such pests.
Toted in an apron were apples plucked fresh from the trees.
They were used for collecting pods after shelling peas.

Flowers from her garden filled the apron for pretty bouquets.
It held clothes pins to hang clothes for drying on laundry days.
Aprons were used as a receptacle when snapping green beans,
And to gather a batch of lettuce for a salad of tasty greens.

Many times her apron wiped tears from a little boy's eyes,
And wiped her furrowed brow when baking cakes and pies.
They were dandy for last-minute dusting before company arrived.
Without her apron, I don't know how Mom would've survived!

It seems that ladies no longer need an apron to wear themselves,
Since food can be readily snatched from nearby grocery shelves.
An apron is seldom worn by domestic engineers nowadays,
Since tossing supper in a microwave to heat is now the craze!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)

Premium Member Poem | Details | Clothes Poem | |

Enemy Wear

"Enemy Suit"

If you are my online styling enemy, 
Then I love you more than poop and snakes combine 
I'd pray to God, every night, 
'Ask him to fill your room with termites 
Once in a while, I'd ask him to give you grace 
In hopes today, you don't expose the green monster face 
Enough said for the time to be.

To:
My dearest enemy, my mentor
I want you to know, you taught me well
Tonight I Will Put On My Enemy's Clothes
And I'll be the fake friend that hugs you
 

Hugs, Hugs, Love, Love Linda


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