High Street
High heels like peacocks on stilts
Eyes piercing like porcupine spikes
Bear heavy mascara like war paint
Lips so red like they’ve never been kissed
We suit up for the show down
The wardrobe mirror decides the crown
Our sway leading the way
Our e-goes leave the driveway
To jam the payroll en route the freeway
As we carve a niche along the concrete pathway
Dark sunglasses for added couture
Style galore in ‘Mzazi fosho!’
These are high stakes
The fashion police issue hefty fines for any mistakes
Sanctioning you off the fashion calendar
No points for ‘colour blockin’ and poor posture
The isle to the photocopier becomes the runway
The city streets become the fashion highways
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
