Best Clothing Poems
I listen to the sighing
of the wind, as I sit
in the cool shade
of a sprawling carob tree,
wondering if Basho,
in heavenly abode,
next to Elysian Fields,
is mumbling agitatedly
under his breath – possibly
grimaces, wrings his hands
as he flips the pages of
vain anthologies where
writers sell their wares…
Stuck in comfort zone
deprived of achievement,
wary of new horizons,
surprise ends and twists…
they cling to restrictions
and Mother Nature’s skirt.
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Pareidolia Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Craig Cornish
© 24th August 2020
Skating fingers criss-cross, glide down my neck;
Under my clothing feel free to check
For a zipper, a button - my body serene,
It’s far beneath my skin the treasure unseen.
Why do you fumble and why with such need
Do you remove all my clothing longing to see
Bare hips so to know me?
Bare back so to know me?
Or pink candy stars soft on my breast
So to impress on your mind my complete nakedness?
I do not stand Revealed, though bare is my skin,
I do not stand Exposed, to believe so is sin.
You have removed only waves which accent the sea;
You cannot fathom the depth of the ocean in me.
See my hips – you do not know my rhythm.
See my back – you do not know my strength.
See my stars – you do not know my dreams:
Go ahead, touch me, I am not Naked
Well hidden are my seams.
He masquerades as an angel of light
That's who the devil is
So be very, very careful
He will betray you with a kiss.
He walks around like a roaring lion
To devour you for himself
He'll tempt you with all kinds of riches
And promise you much wealth.
The devil wants to lead mankind
Lead us all astray
And pollute our minds with sin and lies
A place where he can play.
The cross is a place of victory
The devil knows that well
That's why he wants to con mankind
And take us all to Hell.
So take great care and be on your guard
To the ones you listen to
For it could be the devil in disguise
Just carefully grooming you.
He came a-lurking through the grass to lie in wait to strike.
While shepherds round their sheep in line, both young and old alike.
“I’ll eat you boy, I’ll eat you whole, your wool will be my mane,”
“And then I’ll move among your flock” the Viper said in vein.
With one swift smooth and deadly strike, the Viper took his prey,
A sacrificial lamb to start the debt that they will pay.
With blood now oozing from his fangs he wraps himself in fleece
And moves among the flock to slowly infiltrate the peace.
“For one-by-one they’ll all fall down, I’ll send them straight to hell,”
“Your Shepherd he can’t save you now! So say your last farewell!”
So night-by-night the Viper struck until the flock was gone.
The blood flowed on and on and on and curdled in the dawn.
The moral of the story is ‘don’t be a sheep at all.’
Or else the Viper just may strike and take your skin and all.
Uncontrolled lustful defiling, dirty and inciting
The profaning of holy sanctuary
Wolves amongst gentle lambs
The greedy and money hungry
The un-sharing and un-caring
Deceitful with, 10% truth and 90% untruths.
These are itching ear promoters, abusers and users.
If the money were gone, they would be gone also.
I was first picked up
In a cast-off shop in Liverpool;
Surrounded by racks of seasoned shirts
Bearing names of old soldiers.
“Draper” draped on an immature frame
In a collage of brown and green,
Overlapping and enveloping
Any semblance of a past self.
Baby-faced and militant,
The paradoxical camo in an urban warzone.
Slogans painted from shoulder to shoulder
In pungent, nuclear-white bathroom paint.
The smell is burned to memory,
Singeing nose hairs with chemical vigour,
Of dance-generated sweat, upturned pints,
A lover’s aftershave, the sting of cigarette smoke.
Washed once, maybe twice,
But anxious eyes watched the spin cycle,
Fearing specks of dislodged paint
Covering my muddy canvas.
Now “Draper” drapes a matured frame,
The only scent that lingers is
The petrichor of Northern summer
Tie-dyed deep into my fibres.
I bare a name that isn’t mine,
Memories of a life I did not live,
Scars from battles I never saw,
And honours that aren’t mine to claim.
He shines with light a sheep they say
they never see him the same way
his children see him everyday
dripping, snarling, heavily
he will not show us sympathy
to see a beast so shrewd revealed
layer by layer each is peeled
sorrows skin for us to see
no one else can apparently
howling now a sinful tune
he sheds his skin beneath the moon
a wolf we see and not the lamb
all his children are the damned
he has no time to lie in wait
he must move now our sin is bait
devour our souls it's far too late
what lies beneath not heavens gate
sorrow is the skin he's in
sorrow are his children
shed his skin and you will see
a heart too dark for empathy
sorry he could never say
would it could it take away
the stain he leaves as he betrays
he laughs again another day
and steals our soul another day
Dreamt last night I was king of a land
A paradise filled with gorgeous women and men
Sunshine galore
Couldn't ask for more
Decreed in an edict, all clothing was banned
"Fattening up time" the wall calendar read
which meant only one thing to old farmer Ted
Christmas was coming and there's money to be made
you see the bigger the bird the more he'd be paid
He'd saved up all year and bought high quality feed
to ensure that his flock was the best he could breed
So this year Ted's turkeys would be the tastiest in town
and the best biggest birds would bring more bucks per pound
Last Christmas one turkey was the luckiest bird
You see she was too small to be sold, so her death was deferred
and being the braniest of birds ever born on the farm
meant she could outsmart farmer Ted instead of coming to harm
Whilst Farmer Ted fed her friends to fatten the flock
she counted her calories to avoid the chopping block
And as Ted's children had played, their fondness had grown
for "Tiny Tina the turkey", as she was affectionately known
This year she told other turkeys of why they were bred
"they'll feed you and fatten you and then cut off your head
and then stuff and roast you and on you they'll be fed"
The head turkey was horrified and asked "what could they do"
"should we run and hide or hold a farmyard coup?"
"Don't worry" replied Tina "I've hatched a plan so daring"
"I'm convinced it won't fail cos I've spent the last year preparing"
So she told the turkeys her plan of what she had devised
"We'll fool the farmer this year by going disguised"
"I've collected wool from the sheep for the perfect scam
and made us costumes to wear as part of my plan
to avoid the oven this year if disguised as a lamb"
Next day the farmer was up with the cracking of dawn
and couldn't believe what he saw as he stepped out on his lawn
No turkeys in sight, he could see none around
and after searching his farm, none could be found
He stood in his farmyard scratching his beard
wondering how all his turkeys could have just disappeared
and why were his lambs walking with a waddle?
and instead of a bleat they spoke with a gobble!
My spirit becomes one with my words
Standing without shame - dancing together with my soul
Even though my heart…
Walks upon soil that bathes my feet with tears
Searching for leaves to dry and clothe my soul
With her silken wraps of greene'
I kneel my heart upon Earth’s carpet
Undressing my soul upon her soft emerald blades of grass
As the silence of echoing thunder
Lays her solemn song upon deafened ears
Ears that no longer hear my voice of tears
The fabric of my heart - silenced now by unheard cries
As my intricate illusions fumble with un-promised conclusions
Pulling off fragile petals of flowers that were not bequeathed
Spinning cobwebs in my broken heart
A heart - so carelessly forgotten
You...
My unveiled lullaby of sorrow
Slicing through this heart of their matter ? Said the mad hatter..
Giants causeway; going to view a rare as of late movie bits in, escapism
American Hustle it's title given and two facts for myself parted these curtains
Unto another motion picture's canvas: Amy Adams Bradly Cooper having loved their
Pryor performances endearing one's heart again his paradox ? A four star review
Left walking away once more disenchanted afore their final credits could roll of, deja vu
Regurgitated recycled hopeless hurray, for Hollywood ? Show me the money, her mademoiselle
Chimed a cheque in chic; slight be hands pink champagne red roses an invite to, his White House ?
Most every actor's dream come true; rubbing elbows with these tuxedos; slash, trench coats
Turn, and war their words; as baby got a new pair, of ruby red shoes ? Dance the candleman; atop
Silver chairs high up there enter this dox; celluloid impersonations reverberations constipations....
Grab that cash with both hands their golden rule while tossing Dorothy her rainbows edge your hungry.
Written By: D. Collins 12/28/18
A sheep in wolf's clothing is what stands out here.
A character of loathing and hiding behind fear.
Look at Ann Coulter who is afraid to leave home.
Because of things she has said, brought it on her own.
Through tweets they display a "Gangsta" attitude.
But, get ghost, when knuckles want to get nude.
Those boisterous people afraid to leave their yard.
Those sheep in wolf's clothing, with no gut or gall.
They have no experience serving on the front line.
Yet, ready to start a war, at the drop of a dime.
That misunderstanding that they are "privileged".
Unlike you and I, who aren't afraid to live.
I see it more and more as Fall comes in,
the fabric fears not the chill or wind,
often brushed and soft, like a blanket’s grasp,
and for many years a good one with last.
Whether it be Black Watch or Buffalo Check,
there’re a thousand patterns, what will be next?
I think when it all is said and done,
that flannel is truly made of awesome.
Be it expensive or sewn with no thrills,
I find it much nicer then wearing twill,
whether it is cotton or old-school wool,
it keeps cold out, and that’s no bull.
Warming lumberjacks in the forests gloom,
or Hipsters who make you pray for doom,
the nineties music scene would come undone,
without that flannel, made of awesome.
You can layer it against winter’s bite,
wear it alone on cool summer nights,
in Autumn it is our uniform,
but it’s not just shirts, it is so much more.
As a soft blanket, or a thermal sheet,
it protects well against chilly feet,
line your jeans with it and winter is won,
thanks to that flannel, made of awesome.
Inside your slippers or a heavy coat,
on frost-touched mountains or foliage boats,
in a hunter’s kits, animals to fool,
or rich folk who want ‘working-class cool,’
worn by poor souls just fighting the cold,
be it classic plain, or so loud and bold,
as a fabric it is second-to-none,
'cause flannel is truly made of awesome.
And cotton. Awesomeness and a whole lot of cotton.
we found shelter
the warm rain fell
the shepherds in the field
pride before the fall
everyone listens
but nobody hears
stand before the crowds
venom sprayed
and laughs out loud
pride before the fall
he is held just above
knows the write words
for he knows all
pride before the fall
low to the ground stalks
his prey , for one is enough
to eat all day
when the rain flees
clouds dissolve
the sons light shines
on this predator
blood stained he smiles
for us forgiveness
is key sunday he
will be out to devour
without thought it goes on
till everything is gone
pride before the fall
For a moment I lived in fear of the hourglass
It's funny how quickly those feelings can pass
Because now I cant seem to get away from you fast enough
You have a world class poker face, I almost missed your bluff
But I'm calling it out, all chips are in
Mght as well fold now, cuz I'm gonna win
Put your cards on the table, reveal your hand
How I almost fell for it, I'll never understand
You pulled the wool right down over my eyes
A wolf in sheep's clothing, what a clever disguise
You huffed and you puffed and you blew my walls down
Now I'm reduced to a pile of debris left strewn on the ground
Right back where I started, familiar resent
Mulling over the misfortune of wasted time spent
Biting the bitter bullet of unrequited cares
Peeling out my feeling, layer by woeful layer.