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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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See also: Best Famous Poems

New Clothes Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Clothes poems are below this new poems list.

Who stole The Emperors New Clothes by Jones, Ian
Power Lines Don't Make Good Clothes Lines by johnson, randy
Shade-trees, Clothes Pegs, Wet Clothes Outside, by Quinlan, Diane M
Skimpy Clothes by Ward, Julia
Cherry's Clothes by Ward, Julia
My Clothes by Troilus, Pyramus
The Clothes Man by Philibert, Leslie
Change of clothes by Dome, Peter
The Clothes We Wear by Rodriguez, Lilith
Sans Clothes by Stevenson, Jerry

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The Best Clothes Poems

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.

More great poems below...


Details | Clothes Poem | |

Close to you

hanging so close on the clothesline
touching like lovers new
I yours and in silence yours mine
something we never do

Our thoughts might be along those lines
in dreams are more than close
Yet on the clothesline we are fine
touching and no one knows


Penned April 1 2015 by Seren Roberts

Contest title: let me feel your lines

Theme :  no 3. Clothesline


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 | |

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

More great poems below...


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.

Details | Clothes Poem | |

Black Bird On a Wire

Black Bird
Sitting on a wire
Why is your back turned towards me?
Do you wish to hide the intelligence of your eyes,
or do you wish to create some mystery?
I have seen you
Here at this old dump
Picking through the unwanted wanted things
I wish I could search along with you
Check out what the Jones's have no more use for
The bits of unfixed
The not new enough
Their "I think we deserve the very best"
"This ain't good enough, let's buy more and more stuff!"
At one time
I wore their discarded clothes
Wore them without pride
I should have been proud
For I dug for them with wanting hands
Hands that waded through decadence
Refillable 
Recyclable 
Usable
Black Bird
I watched you and your brothers
As you feasted on our last suppers
Ripping open black bags
Fighting for morsels 
Unconcerned with the rotting
Intoxicated by fermenting fruit
Pungent aromas
Bones that needed to be picked clean

Me noticing but not recalling until now
Back then
I was hoping 
Praying for a bicycle
Desperately wanting to ride far away from here
Escape  my then
My embarrassment
My, I hope no one sees me!
"Garbage picker!"
"Where did you get that coat?"
"We threw that in the dump!"
Boy oh boy do I like clothes now.
No one makes fun of what I wear!

Part of me wishes to return with you Black Bird
To see what I left behind
Reclaim
Recycle that little boy
But I can't
The dumps aren't open anymore
It is like those old bones
Bleached
Picked clean
Manicured
Items placed in appropriate piles
All the while
You sit on your wire
Back turned to me
Intelligent eyes hidden
Knowing I can't disturb you
In a while you will feed on yesterday
For this place 
Is not closed to you!

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

Details | Clothes Poem | |

My Old Blue Jeans

(Old erased Poems)



A gaggle of girls lounging in the sun.
In the green grass many pairs of legs, 
stretched out, clad in their blue jeans.
My old pair, many memories...
In them I dug into the garden soil,
planting my spring flowers; my jeans grubby.
A girl gamboling in the rain,
water soaking into her and every pore of fibre
of her blue old jeans.
Many moons ago, my jeans,
touching his knees;
they remember the feel of his bare hands, 
as he smoothly traced the lines of those jeans.
The hems got frayed, threads hung loose...
Had seen better days, blotches of old paint,
colours that stayed.
Sitting astride my horse, 
looked far into the dipping sky;
My rough old jeans,
Has spent many autumns, growing old with me.



..
Written for nette's contest 'Blue Jeans'

Details | Clothes Poem | |

The Beauty of Charkha the Spinning Wheel 3



The Beauty of Charkha the Spinning Wheel  2

The Poem is dedicated to Mahatma Gandhi and his Charkha

Part 3

The rapidly emerging new discoveries
Were influencing and enchanting 
The ever thirsty mind and hearts 
Of every adventure lover.  

The entire Europe and the remaining world
Of that Era 
Almost became crazy 
After watching and witnessing 
The new magic’s
Of that wonderful thirteenth century 
Glued with the stunning new discoveries
Which was appearing one after another
Bewildering everyone of that age.

New stories of love and adventures were appearing 
With new amazing attractions and lore’s 
Which always enchants the human mind
Like the islands of amazements and hope 
Inviting the adventurers and young lovers 
To come and see, to enjoy and relish 
A totally new more intoxicating and elegant 
But untouched wine 
Of the unexplored East.  …

Stories about of these unknown lands 
Had already reached and stimulated  
The young throbbing mind and hearts 
Of the new young voyagers and lovers
Who were keen to go and bring with them
An entire new world 
For their sweet hearts and beloved’s.

Many voyagers were ready 
With their long cherished longings and dreams
Which had in them 
The hidden untold desires and ambitions
Equipped with God gifted muscle powers
To mold anything and above all 
They had the bold and strong determinations
To throw themselves and their ships 
On the waves of the vast unlimited 
And unexplored oceans
Without caring for the sea storms and
High rising waves.

Ravindra K Kapoor

Kanpur India 9th June 2015

To continue in next …..

Protected under the Copy Write provisions of Poetry Soup.



Details | Clothes Poem | |

I Like My Body

I like my body when it's with your clothes.
With your skirts and with your hose.
Panties, bras and stilettos -
you must let me BORROW those!
Oooh, they're tight... I don't suppose
you've got these in open toes...?


======================
07/24/2015
Lycia Harding

For the 'Complete the Line' Contest
Line 3:  ‘I like my body when it is with your..’---e.e. cummings


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


Details | Clothes Poem | |

School Days

(and long brown stockings) 

I detest these stockings,
they're coarse, brown and ugly.

I hate the garters more;
elastic circles that cut off 
circulation and fail to halt 
the laddering down my skinny legs.

If only . . . I picture myself
in warm jeans and no teasing
from Tommy Rogers.

I put the garters to better use,
roll the repulsive stockings
down around my ankles. 

Tommy taunts,
"Who gave you
jointed toothpicks for legs?"

I lost it.

Now, Tommy has a black eye
and my nose is in the corner.


Details | Clothes Poem | |

Love Never Fades

There's a little history to this particular poem. I know I wrote it when I was 11 or 12 years old. I wrote it for my Grandma Dorabel, who is today 90 years old. I also wrote it for my uncle John who had been taking care of her at the time; I didn't want to leave him out so I put on the letter: For Grandma Dee and Uncle John! I wrote this short little poem along with a drawing of a cat and some flowers. However, I actually never sent the picture to her! My parents and I must have forgotten to send! To me that was unacceptable! I thought to myself today when I found the picture, I must send it now! The picture is now on its way to her, so I am happy she will at last receive it. 

---------------------------- You can send me a bouquet of flowers, You can order me a box of chocolates, You can buy me a fancy outfit, But flowers don't last, Chocolates eventually disappear, Outfits get out of style, Yet Love never fades, And it's the most precious gift of all

Details | Clothes Poem | |

A Woman's Worth

A Woman’s Worth
When she walks in the room
she wants people to stop and stare
not because they’re whispering…
what she got on girl, what’s up with that hair?
But because she looks good, conservative and chic
looking her best from head to feet
she knows the spiked heels and look at me blouse
will make all the men become aroused
she knows that look would make conditions tense
but how she’s dressed builds confidence
she doesn’t do loud make-up, green hair or tight skirts,
if you don’t know, how will anyone else know your worth?
Not trying to be  Nicki Manage,
never putting on a fascad
being original, still blending in
all because she’s good  in her own skin
She looks pretty
and carries herself well,
clothes should hide
what only time should tell
When a man calls us out of our name
boy, do we get offended
Aretha told us the Rule of R-e-s-p-e-c-t
It’s usually us that bend it
Wearing anything to work, 
any and everything to church
talking that ghetto talk
walking that ghetto walk
telling your friends, girl, he don’t respect me
your friends telling you that you save nothing to see
Asking him out first
Not knowing your worth
You didn’t give him a chance
giving all of yourself on a one night stand
sitting there wondering why he didn’t call
now you’re starting to feel about 2 feet tall
think back, yall never took the time to ask for number and name
now you’re feeling so ashamed
It wasn’t your smile or your smarts that got you here
that drink, you didn’t think
Oh, is that a tear?
Men respect us based on how we think of ourselves
they measure us on what our body tells
what is your body telling?
that you have something you’re selling?
there’s so much you can tell with your body
you don’t have to be revealing to be a hottie
besides, I have daughters and they’re watching me
I try to always give them something beautiful to see
what are we teaching our little girls?
that our bodies will further in this world?
the answer to that question is no 
the BIBLE says train a child in the way they should go
what we need to understand as women we deserve respect
but sometimes what we give is what we usually get
when most men see a woman in low -cut shirts, short skirts and high heels
to him you’re worth about as much as a happy meal
if I’m a meal, I’m Crème Brouleé , Beluga Caviar, Laute Truffle Chocolate, with 1945 Chauteau Vintage wine,
That’s who I am all the time
Be who you are, 
can’t be me, I’m taken
If you think you can live as someone else
you’re sadly mistaken
I’m a woman every week,
365 days a year
I don’t clock out
I wanna make that clear
Ok, sometimes I can joke and be crazy, 
but I never forget that I’m a lady
so girls, get it right,
you can stay on your grind
FOR A REAL WOMAN IS A WOMAN FOR REAL AT ALL TIMES



Details | Clothes Poem | |

The First Goodbye

laying in your bed
watching you
get dressed
the permanent ring in the
back pocket
of your blue jeans
i’m missing you already

Details | Clothes Poem | |

The Happy Dress

It’s a mother-in-law’s right, her prerogative 
To ‘drop in’ on her son almost any time,
But a mother-in-law should always be prepared
For almost anything she may find.

So, Mother Cready dropped in unannounced;
But as she approached her son’s front door,
Suddenly it opened.  “Ta Da!  Do you like my happy dress?”
His young wife stood there in her ‘all in all’…nothing more.

“Oh, my word!” Mother Cready exclaimed with surprise.
“Why are you naked?  Are you insane?”
Just as surprised, the young wife pulled her inside.
“Please, Mother Cready…if you’ll just let me explain.

You see, when Mac has had a rough day,
When he’s been under a lot of stress,
Sometimes I meet him at the door
With a smile and a kiss in my happy dress.

It always relaxes him and makes him happy,
Then he makes me very happy too.
It works for Mac and me, Mother Cready;
Maybe it would work for you.”

“We’re too old for such.” scoffed Mother Cready.
“Perhaps if we were young like the two of you.”
But, on her way home, she decided
She was definitely going to try it too.

So, she bathed and put on some nice perfume,
Fixed her make-up and her hair.
She was thinking some very sexy thoughts,
But she had to hurry…no time to spare.

She heard her husband’s car in the driveway;
And as he approached their front door,
She threw it open.  “Ta Da! Do you like my happy dress?"
She stood there in her ‘all in all’…nothing more.

She saw a little grimace cross his face,
But that was not the worst.
Then he said, “I appreciate your happy dress, my dear;
But maybe you should have ironed it first.”

ALTERNATE LAST VERSE

“Well…your ‘happy dress’ could use some ironing;
But my birthday suit could use some starch.”
He kissed her. “Bet you and I can work it out.”;
And off to bed they marched.

Details | Clothes Poem | |

A granny I might be

A granny I might be

A granny I might be
But I can always see
My hair is growing grey
My shape is quite okay

I still love my fashion
I guess it’s still my passion
I always look quite smart and dressy
And very rarely I look messy.

I’m older, but I'm still a lassie
Sometimes me, I do look classy
I would not change a single day
Not ever, not in any way.

How the years they will turn out
Well who knows, I’ll wait that out.

Vera Duggan 13 September 2014

Details | Clothes Poem | |

A 'LITTLE' Black Dress

Never wear a little black dress that looks in distress or to compressed
it should always impress and softly caress. 

If you wear a small but your a triple X and the length just fits under your derriere
you will surely start to unpack and start to attract.

Sitting is a challenge as you start to scoot down
you know your on a countdown and hoping for no breakdown.

At last you've hit touchdown as you take a deep breath
Only to hear a snap and pop as something starts to unlock from your famous squat.

Your self esteem has just dropped as you start to rock
from side to side you sway 'Do I sit or do I stay' as you start to pray.
                                                                                                                         With great poise and hoping for very little noise
You race for the door knowing you have to abort
taking the tablecloth with you as you deport.

1/25/15      T Reams             1st Place

Details | Clothes Poem | |

IT TAKES A REAL MAN TO WEAR PINK


IT TAKES A REAL MAN TO WEAR PINK

I went to Belk -- they had a sale
It seems they always do
They had men's shirts -- buy one
Then for half price, another two

I bought a button-down oxford
A pretty solid blue
Then I had to make a decision
On the color for the other two

Should I get a plaid
And perhaps a stripe
Maybe choose another solid
Or perhaps get one of white

So I began to stop and think
Back to my teenage days
Of the combination of grey and pink
That really was the craze

But now that I am seventy
What will people say
When I show up in a shirt of pink
And a tie of pink and grey

Then the thought occurred to me
Why worry what others think
Be bold, stand tall, smile and say
It takes a real man to wear pink

Details | Clothes Poem | |

Feed Sack Dresses

A combination of Haiku and Kyoka

designer originals
from feed sacks
after the chickens were fed

her artist's touch
honed with the aid
of her foot movement
on the treadle machine


Details | Clothes Poem | |

The Clothes We Wear

There’s a lady dressed in white. 
She smiles in the morning light.

There’s a man who’s dressed in brown. 
He scowls as the sun goes down. 

There’s a girl who’s dressed in blue
Who got her hands stuck in glue. 

There’s a boy who’s dressed in red.
It’s not his clothes, he’s just dead.

Details | Clothes Poem | |

The Doctor Is A Dead Man Walking

Bob had a special talent
That only worked in his men’s store.
He had ‘clothing ESP’.
He knew what his customers wanted…and more.

When customer would come into his store
Bob would invariably say, 
“Hello. I'm Bob. Don’t say a word.
I already know what you need today.”

And he was always right,
Never missed a color, fabric, style or size.
He even knew the necessary alterations.
Customers couldn’t believe their ears and eyes.

Meanwhile, in another part of town,
Joe had a pounding, relentless migraine
For every minute for more than five years,
It had driven him near insane.

He’d lost his job to the pain.
Then, he lost his wife.
He had lost a lot of weight and rarely slept.
Yes, his was a miserable life.

And, of course,  sex was out of the question…
Even a little self-abuse.
There was nothing left for Joe but pain.
He felt his life was of no use.

So, Joe went to his doctor.
“Doc, please help me end this pain.
Give me something to make me sleep
And never wake up again.”

“You know I can’t assist your suicide.”,
Then he looked sad, perhaps ashamed.
“I never dreamed it would last five years,
But I know how to end the pain.”

“You can make it go away?!
Tell me, Doc!  What’s the word?”
“I’ll have to remove your testicles.”
Was the last thing that Joe heard.

But…when he came to, it struck him.
Sex was out of the question anyway;
But he might enjoy his meals again,
And he could sleep for days.

“Please check me in, Doc.
This opportunity I cannot shirk.”
So, the doctor removed his testicles.
He did his very best work.

A few days later, Joe waddled along,
Headache free and feeling pretty nice;
But every attractive woman he saw 
Reminded him of his sacrifice.

He decided it was appropriate
To do something nice for himself for a change.
So, he went into a travel agency;
And a six month cruise he arranged.

As he left the travel agency,
He was excited, feeling ready to go;
But for such a glorious adventure,
He would need new clothes.

As he walked along, he saw Bob’s Men's Store.
He walked in, only to hear Bob say,
“Hello.  I’m Bob. Don’t say a word.
I already know what you need today.”

“How could you know?” asked Joe.
“It’s a gift.  I don’t know how, but I do.
You’ve suffered five years with an ailment,
Found relief, so now you’re taking a cruise.” 

Joe could not believe his ears.
How could this stranger possibly know?
"You're right! That's amazing!
And I'm going to need new clothes." 

Bob then laid out a fabulous wardrobe
All the right colors, fabrics, styles…and each size.
Joe was incredibly impressed.
He could hardly believe his ears and eyes.

“How do you like the wardrobe?”
“It’s wonderful!”  Bob could see that Joe was pleased.
“Now,” said Bob, “What about undergarments;
You know…shorts and tees?

Let’s see…medium crew neck tees, all cotton.
I believe that you prefer white….
And jockey shorts, all cotton…. 34s.
Yes, I'm sure that’s right.”

Joe beamed, “You’re an amazing talent
And I just this second realized,
You've laid out this entire wardrobe
And only missed one size.”

Bob, surprised by his mistake, asked, “Really?
What did I miss?  I did my best for you.”
“Well…you’re right.” said Joe, “I do wear Jockeys,
But…well…I wear 32s.

“Oh, no!” said Bob with an ugly grimace.
“That would be a serious mistake.
Thirty-twos will cramp your balls, 
You’ll get migraine headaches.”

Details | Clothes Poem | |

The dress

Within his room the vestments are displayed,
Each garment hung,so perfectly arrayed.
Reverently he stands to survey his clothes,
Pulls up his pants and gently blows his nose.
In her boudoir a different scene is found,
Where dangers pearls, and fashions abound.
The mistress of the house she contemplates,
The trials and tribulations she must face.
Around the room her treasures now on view,
So many styles in vogue so much to rue.
Preppy Bombshell Classic perhaps Boho,
So much to choose,so much she doesn't know.
She makes a start her labours now begin,
Success or fail the line is paper thin.
The endless hours of shopping she's endured,
Those sacrifices to fashion, and haute couture.
At last she picks, after hours and hours of stress,
The body hugging bombshell will be the dress.
A look so daring, as to confound,
The best dressed woman, she must be crowned.
As she attires herself she smugly smiles,
Tonight will be a victory for her wiles.

Her muse is careful no word of his is heard,
That might offend his dame or be inferred.
The dress she wears is slightly undersized,
In a body so bountiful perhaps unwise.

Beside the village walls a hotel stands,
Once the village inn it looks so grand.
Wherein the great and good have gathered round,
Discussing serious matters like horse and hounds.
Our dame, comes in late to show her wares,
To consternation gasps and outright stares.
Her dress is nearly bursting at the seams,
Oblivious to it all,is her,it seems.
Collapsing seams it's stitches must resist,
Each intake of breath or they will desist.
But fatigued by constant shock they implode,
The bombshell dress now finally explodes.
Structural collapse has started to begin
Stitches popping, each ping against the skin
Seams, violently being ripped apart
Each tear another dagger to her heart
The dress itself has now become a frock
The blast has transformed it into a smock
Her body shape and size now unrestrained
Occupies the new found spaces it has attained

Carefully driving home, her muse says naught,
Believing that a spoken word will out,
The anger of his dame now in disgrace,
And the bombshell that blew up in her face.