Bell Bottom Poems | Examples

Give me back the seventies

the seventies is my go-to decade
for it is when I was my cutest
and my three daughters were born
I looked terrific in my bell bottom jeans

the edge of them had rickrack and lace
I embroidered a happy face and flowers on her pockets
my go-to vest was loaded with fringe
I wore my hair long and messy; I felt wild and free

the music of the seventies was anti-war
Folk music of the Mamas and Papas
The Carol Burnett Show was marvelous
As was Barney Fife on Andy Griffith

Women did not have to wear make up
We could burn our bras, and we did
Helen Reddy wrote and sang “I am Woman”
It was a powerful time for us, especially me.

memories of the seventies

red hot lava lamp
shaggedy raggedy rug
peace sign plump flower

bell bottom hip huggers
fake fur vests and free love
open hearts, open ideas

nineteen seventy
volkswagon buses and Viet Nam
such a contradiction

Feeling Groovy

Bell-bottom blue jeans 
were the rage 
when I was that age
'tween twelve and fourteen.
With no money to spend 
on such foolish things,
our lives wouldn't end
without that latest trend.

But we knew how to make do,
and Mom didn't say no
when we just split the seam
of an outdated jean,
sewed in a piece of colorful cloth
from an old-fashioned frock,
and felt groovy in our homemade 
bell-bottom blue jeans.

BELLS

From the smallest of handbells to bells that are heavy,
bells of all types make a large bevy.

Small bells are often the tinkling kind
like decorative ones in some stores we find.

There are ring-a-ling bells and bells that jingle
like jingle bells ringing when merry folks mingle.

Sleigh bells on horses evoke for me
lovely white wonderland imagery.

Other small bells women wear round their ankles.
An alarm bell that wakens me, oh, how it rankles.

There are waist bells the belly dancers often will wear
while big bells on churches call people to prayer.

Some bells sound randomly; others on queue.
There are bike bells, school bells, and cow bells too.

Of bells that chime melodies, there's more than a few.
That's what the bells called Carillon do.

Bell bottom jeans were used back in my day
and Hell's bells is an expletive some say.

The most famous bell, what might it be?
I think it's the one that's called Liberty!

Thought We Were Modern In 70s

In the seventies we thought we were modern
Utmost chic, sassy, on the cutting edge.
With our bell bottom slacks
And our bell sleeved shirts and dresses
Perhaps we were.
Everyone had the same pattern.
It was fun to see which fabrics others would select.
Paisleys and florals were vividly popular!
The polka dotted fabrics stayed back in the fifties.
But stripes were definitely a choice.

Out of the Closet

Night wrinkles on dim hangers;
bell-bottom pants
two-toned platform shoes
a wide `kipper' tie.

In a pocket
a crumpled Kodachrome -
hot pants and velvet neck-choker.
‘Who is she?’

This closet is a time machine
I exited decades ago.
Dreaming hands part a frilled dress shirt
from its sky-blue tuxedo.

A stripy tank-top.
dances badly to ‘Brown Sugar’
damn you Mike Jagger
you created a monster.

There’s a rum and coke stain
floating like a ghost
through fading threads.

Time, now exhausted,
falls back onto a pillow
the wardrobe trembles like a Tardis
then disappears
into its blue police box
where every garb ever worn
still fits.

Who are you?
I am a hairy hippy, I glitter,
and Jesus Christ is still a Super Star.
She’s a sexy girl who won’t let me sleep.

Wire hangers rattle in the dark
a metallic laughter.
Nerves jiggle restless legs.

Warning Bells

You liked my bell bottom jeans,
said they made me look like John Denver.

I grinned, but then the little car
took a bend too fast,
I had to fight the wheel
to stay on the road.

Later when Denver flew his plane
into sudden death
I threw the dumb pants away.

I Remember Then

I remember when soda pop was a nickel
Same for a double strawberry popsicle,
Back then the best cars had long tailfins
We did silly things for “sh*ts and grins,”
Turned-up collars and slicked-back hair
We’d do almost anything on a dare,
Wearing white bucks, bell-bottom slacks
Playing marbles and eating cracker jacks,
Drive-In theaters and doing the jitterbug
The corner hangout where we cut a rug,
I remember flagging the Greyhound bus
A major form of transportation for us,
Clamp-on roller skates at the roller rink
With the Cold War, always on the brink,
Wild birthday parties playing Post Office
Where most of us got our first real kiss,
This was how it was way back then
When I was growing up and so, so thin! 

Written April 19, 2022

The Seaman's Pleasure

Sailor men, bell-bottom dressed,
They know what ladies like the best:
Strong men, with hair upon their chest
And with duration well possessed.

So come ye maidens howe’er you look,
If you can bake or you can cook
Come out ye from your sheltered nook
And do not pleasure overlook.

Closeted

Night wrinkles on dim hangers.
Bell-bottom pants,
two-toned platform shoes,
a `kipper' tie,
unhinge from time and mind.

The closet door clicks shut.
Empty hangers swing-on in the dark,
rocked now
by the surviving members
of every rock band
that ever broke up.

Time For a Haircut

Flowing gray locks blown by the wind.
gives me a look of a hippy woman,
wearing bell-bottom jeans with a wide belt,
a big-collared shirt covered with a vest of felt.

Time for a haircut.

Hanging onto my hair length makes me feel
secure as I look at the mirror and realize that the
only things which changed are the color and my age,
one time it was chestnut brown which was the rage.

Time for a haircut.

I have to admit, I am no longer the raging beauty,
the flower child of the sixties who drove from town to
town in a van painted with daises looking for eden,
a hidden commune called  Woods of Sweden.

Time for a haircut.

The time has arrived as I make up my mind,
cutting my hair is accepting my age and not hanging
onto my past as a young woman who knew that one
day her fountain of youth would slip by and be done.

Time for a haircut.

Lollipop Splish Splash Cotton Candy Crush

Lollipop splish splash  Cotton candy crush.
Light pink balloon fitting into her abstract chair
Sitting herself down she turned to the early seventies

Bell bottom hip hugger blue jeans fitted tight to her knees
She felt sassy and sexual, straight to her young adult self
She stared into the night, seeing her canvas for tomorrow

Lollipop splish splash Cotton candy crush
The circus and the ferris wheel could have come by
But not garnered any more attention

She stared into the soft pinks of the candle
Mesmerized, and full of spiritual happiness 
Loving every corner and nuance of her life.

It is your time, her guides told her.
Dance your truth, delight in your ability to sing
Paint a masterpiece; do not be afraid to be abstract and yourself

She sat back in the sling back chair
Staring into the candle, feeling her power animals surround her
The deer, the eagle, the wolf and the raccoon. Best time ever!

Prom Night In My Time - Dwm

Post-hippie and pre-disco kids were we,
not clearly fitting one sole category.
Girls dressed formal for our biggest dance.
No short-shorts or those fab bell-bottom pants.
Exploring options at each fashion store,
we girls picked gowns whose length was to the floor.
Guys dressed up formal too; perhaps they’d rent
tuxedos that they wore to the event.

Some local band would play; their lead would sing
an upbeat tune for us like “Wild Thing.”
We danced free form, for we were not about
a single style of dance; we just rocked out!
No Bandstand moves for us; we did just fine.
No Salsa, Swing or dancing in a line.
I think the guys preferred the music slow.
Then into their slow dancing mode they’d go.

Around our dates we draped our arms. Our feet
seemed barely moving from one spot; a treat!
A treat indeed – though soft the songs might be,
hearts raced as partners danced romantically.
To “Have You Seen Her,” “If,” and “Maggie May”
we let our bodies sensuously sway.
The threat of Viet Nam was nearly gone.
To “Riders in the Storm” we blissfully danced on.

March 9, 2020 
 “Kim Rodrigues’ DWM Contest”

Precious and Few

my new adidas running shoes
blue bell bottom jeans
soft pink angora sweater
and ribbon in my hair

a stroke of blue shadow on my eyes
touch of blush on the cheekbones
perfume cachet smelling pretty
rushing out to the school dance

I’ll hang out at the punchbowl
I’ve got my heart set on a beau
he’s been flirting with me
in chemistry class all year

there’s nothing I’d like better
than to dance the whole night long
and hear him call me sweetheart
as I can hardly breathe

and the band will play their rendition
of the magical hit ‘Precious and Few’
fondly close under dimmest of lights
maybe just maybe we’ll get to steal a kiss



AP: 2nd place 2025

Submitted on March 1, 2020 for contest DANCE WITH ME sponsored by KIM RODRIGUES  -  RANKED 2ND

Dwn Git N Down At the Dance

DWN GIT n DOWN at the DANCE -

Button down, 
Boogie down.
Velvet lime green bell bottom pants, lookN mean;
Jackson 5, singing Dancing Machine;
~
Eddie Kendrick’s Boogie down man
Dancing to the beat of the rock;
Rhythm of your soul on top;
Bounding, spinning, twirling around;
~
Just you and yo group
Jest get N down;
Spiral lights music in it
Rainbow colors supericfic
~
Plat form shoes go toe to toe
Getting down all we know
Cats spinning on their backs
Couples doin the Bump do the
~
Bump, do the Bump git back I'm leadin
Yet this was a boogie fever
Dancin all night ...
can hardly believe it?
this is how we git down at the dance?



2/29/20
“Kim Rodrigues’ DWM Contest”


DANCE WITH ME Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kim Rodrigues

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