Best Blue Jeans Poems
Old men in blue jeans
Dungarees – that’s what they were called,
heavy, blue denim, metal button fly -
form that followed function. The “cuffs” were
rolled up because inseam sizing and “pre-worn”
softened and frayed only occurred if you got
them from an older sibling.
Time has a way of softening things, Dungarees
included. They shaped themselves to your needs,
became one with your movements, stayed with you
through the tough times, went to town with you,
wore the scars and tears of youth moving forward,
taught the lessons of toughness and tenderness,
of reliable, responsible, dependability.
The clothes did not make the man, the man gave
meaning to the clothes, imbued them with his ethic,
his love, his success and failures, stood with him
in welcome rains and barren fields. The jeans,
flannel shirts, boots, weathered face - caught
between an ever present grin and grimace -
awaited each sunrise with a purpose.
The blue jeans are now faded by age,
highlighted by wear and tear, creased
in the rutted way of old roads – necessary
but untended. They offer the comfort of memory’s
warm embrace, the unspoken bond of a friendship
shaped by the demands of life.
They still walk together, these old men and their
blue jeans, more slowly but no less proudly,
for they have grown old together and know
that “the clothes did not make them men”.
John G. Lawless
1/1/2015
(Re Old 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 blue jeans.
The hems got frayed, threads hung loose...
They'd seen better days, blotches of old paint,
colors that stayed.
Spent many autumns, growing old with me
My rough old jeans.
I looked far, into the dipping sky,
The soaring waves, breaking into foam,
Turn to the grey hills, as I spread my wings,
braving my last journey,
for the bird to be finally home.
..
Written for nette's contest 'Blue Jeans'
She wears her kindness,
a full length gown
as if it were a pair of baby blue jeans
soft in color, tough in its fabric.
She is adorned in silk
refracts incoming ideas
produces her own.
Like the shimmer
of this same silk
she is brilliant!
Her embrace is boundless.
Her exuberance unmatched.
She is "music".
Paints with the bold strokes of her guitar,
the perfect pitch of her voice, natures smile.
She is an original,
nothing like you.
She is passionate,
exactly like you.
She offers all this, more.
Chooses you.
"I love her with every fiber..."
Often I wonder.
With so many beautiful words
attaching themselves so easily to women
why would any man ever need to lie...
Sept/26/2014
To trade through the Pacific Ocean
An undeniable dream for nations
Never mind pollution and all its ramifications
The Pearl, China’s third longest river
As blue jeans take the world
Their warmth should make us shiver.
The ecosystem easily raped and plundered
By blue jeans, have you never wondered?
The River Pearl what a glorious name
Its river bed with shell like rocks once aflame
The iridescent pear-like colours true
But dying now because of 'blue'.
The waters from the factories run black
Some recycled, but corporations never look back
The waste-dyed waters piped into the rivers life
Polluting and poisoning - rampant and rife
Piped into the fields this black river of death
The crops cannot grow, people gasping for breath
The smog that sits over the Pearl waters dyed black
Will take all you have, is there no going back?
The famous white dolphins will soon be gone
They lived in this river the pearlesence now gone
They die every day as do the crops on the shore
Won’t some-one stand up and cry out ...NO MORE!!!!
© 10/07/2013 GG
The third longest river in china The Pearl River is so badly polluted from the industries on its river banks including the blue dye from the denim factories that all the life in it is now dying, as are the crops on the rivers banks watered by this polluted water.
Five days of blue jeans.
Five days of bare feet.
My mini-vacation
is surely a treat.
It's sunny and warm
and summer is near.
The chair on the deck
is calling "Come here !"
All thoughts of my job
are pushed out of my mind.
If this isn't heaven
it's the closest I'll find.
With coffee and book,
jeans and bare feet,
onto the deck
the morning to greet.
Toenails are painted,
twinkling in the sun.
Rest and relaxation,
my idea of fun.
~~~~by Francine Roberts~~~~
06/06/2011
for nette onclaud's "It's in the Jeans" contest
Black band t shirts
And faded blue jeans
Combined to clothed creativity
In a child who silently screams
Isolated and introverted youth
Cynicism constantly growing
Dark moments and blue bruises
Covered by the logo showing
Mind numbing frailties
and paralyzing self-doubt
His world is ten feet of shadow
His idols help him speak out
Vicariously living through artists
Empowered by lyrics of truth
Clenching expeditiously to music
Blasting headphones wipe out his youth
Chaotic reality, psychotic dreaming,
Numbed by bottles over the years
A passionate poet sleeps within him
Blank pages are the ears of his peers
Yet the ears of society are his target
An abundance of epic collections
He will not leave every pondered piece
Only the greatest of his finest selections
To be treasured or trashed?
Is his struggle shared by the masses?
Will his words synchronize his generation
Or become a mere fad which passes?
Questions to be answered by the future
Yet his idols have taught him to dream
For if not today, tomorrow will bear,
Children of band t shirts and blue jeans
I'm a country boy who needs you
The first time you're washed you bleed blue
You go with all of my T-shirts
If I rip you I will be hurt
As crisp as Mississippi's air
I still will wear you with a tear
You are something I'll never share
Got four or five favorite pair
Something I won't trade khakis for
Brown as bags from the package store
Since my favorite color's blue
I want you in every hue
From the stonewashed to rigid you
When I can't buy I visit you
I'm hoping that they give me you
'Cause your fit I'm addicted to
Glancing at the darkest night
A sparkling jewel I see
She shineth down on me
She is the prettiest I have seen
So very sparkly is she
As she twinkles up above
She truly is the one I love
Though not in blue jeans
not at all
For she is dressed up for a ball
So sparkly is she
Inspiring my poetry
A million diamonds
cascade down
Venus in blue jeans
Not for me
Dressed to impress
in her very best gown
On the darkest night
So sparkly and bright
She truly lights up the town
A million
no a trillion
diamonds I do see
Sparkling down on me
Venus in blue jeans
No siree
Dressed to impress in her best ball gown
this jean less Venus is shining down
Written 8th August at 02.00 am
Contest A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE
Sponsor Brian Strand
2nd PLACE
My fondest memory is dancing
in the grass.
Putting on mini shows
for mom and dad with class.
Neil Diamond consuming
the air with
"Rhythm in Blue Jeans"
the song sang like a prayer.
Still to this day it's
my suit of armor
Fancy or casual
They're a real charmer.
They always make me
feel at home
Wherever I go
I'm never alone.
I am from Texas
we wear jeans with pride
They give me strength
on the ranch or in tide.
So if your ever pondering
what to put on
you'll never go wrong
with blue jeans you'll be brains with brawn.
By kristen bruni fo Blue Jeans contest 6-6-11)
i got the holes in my pants the hard way.....work.
John G. Lawless
5/7/2022
Held you
in the light
of faded blue jean
memories
Starring down the contour of your thighs
kissing gently the dimples of your knees
starting to squeeze
your ankles too tight.
That’s when you threw me
off of you
‘round midnight
train
stopped playing
that deep blue music
we listened to
last night
stand
swore there would never be another chance
you would give me
to make it
“all-right”
Fighting each other
not letting go
Fine!
“Good-Bye”
we are through
go find another pair
that fits you
broke my zi-
pp
-er
now I’m stuck
Bad denim
tossed with socks
in a donation box.
tattered
and torn
these old jeans
like a frayed soul
beyond repair
still catch eyes
of onlookers
as i walk by
patches
hide the threads
and worn out seams
from view
dirtied
then washed
with tears
yet stains
remain
some things
can”t be cleaned
nor replaced
No! The blue jeans screamed. We do not stretch that far!
The people driving by began laughing it up in the car.
They had seen the old woman who had eaten a moon and a star.
She waddled into the house clutching a huge candy bar.
Please no! The blue jeans screamed as she sat on the bed.
She pulled off her sweatpants and swiveled her head.
I bet these blue jeans will not split she said to her man.
He dared not even look as the jeans’ torment began.
She slid them to her knees, but they would not go over.
Come lick my legs a bit, she suggested to her good dog Rover.
She tried the best she could, but she could not get them up.
Guess we will not split today! One leg said to the pup.
You’re screaming at me through the kitchen door
I’m not quite as pretty as the one before
Her ripped blue jeans keep staring at me
In trouble again for the way I clean
The neighbors complain every time we fight
And I’m not quite sure if I ever was right
He won’t throw away her damn blue jeans
Got the ghost of his ex in the house with me
You beg every time for another chance
Say you will change and be a better man
Can’t count the times that I’ve forgiven
Your endless lies and promises broken
Finally lit a match to those jeans of hers
Cracked a smile as I watched them burn
The flames turned a pretty shade of red
Almost the color of my favorite lipstick
Gathered my things and heard you shout
Mean angry words that I tuned out
Caught the first ride and waved goodbye
To those damn blue jeans and my old life
Blue jeans surround me
blue jeans all around me
Blue jeans everywhere I look
blue jeans in every store and shuk * *open-air marketplace, bazaar
Chicago, Houston, Detroit, L.A.
China, Russia, Canada and Paraguay
Barbeques, even fine dining
Blue jeans, all occasions defining
Creased, faded, ripped or lean
on the farm or in Times Square
Blue jeans always make the scene
No matter the decade or the year
~ blue jeans are what the people wear