Best Coats Poems
He didn't have a coat of many colors
he had many coats in different colors
each day he wore a different one
whatever struck his fancy, his mood
whatever made me feel suave, cool
whatever made him feel mannishly approved
He changed those colors
in kaleidoscope speed
so fast that it seemed
he had a coat of many colors
yet in the end
he wound up cold
none of the coats
could keep him warm
though each one had its charm
the constant changing caused alarm
No coat felt special, real
and by some magic mystery
when he reached in the closet
each one he pulled out
had turned to black
in coat rebellion attack
mutiny
Back to black
to match the color
of his monochrome heart
Eileen Manassian
.
The sentinel cats
Guard post tip top of the house
Growing winter coats
flower, god, rain, spring, winter, dance, birth, sunshine,
GRIPPING ROOTS © TANKA
Birds chirp spring’s sunshine
Rain showers the ground outdoors
Plants begin to grow
Gripping roots draw nourishment
Mother Nature's weathered gifts!
Coats Of Snow © Tanka
Pure white coats stockpile
And cold shouts a freeze
Daylights sunshine glare
Early moonbeam blights a kissing
And dance the night time sky!
THE GOD PHOENIX RISES! © Tanka
In Arabian ash
Half a centuries' time
Beauteous ‘Phoenix’ ashes lay
For five hundred years
Ageing in Arabian soil
Will rise awake sentence-free!
October doors open on misty chills, bringing the
Return of fluorescent copper clad arms, thin gloves grip
Apple spiced stone mugs, warming with
Nutmeg and cinnamon, a caramel swirl in
Ginger's bright glow, that golden scent spiked with
Essence of pumpkin, everywhere pumpkin!
Cagey squirrels play hide and seek at the feet of
Oaks and maples, grand dame ladies draped in
Apricot glazed branches of charm bracelets
Tranquil blue flame sparks a bonfire's
Smoky burn beneath the November sun.
10/03/21
Autumn Acrostic contest
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
Miss Christy Sambristy had way too much hair!
When you visited, hair was on every couch, and chair.
It stretched all the way outside her blue and red door!
If she tried cutting it, the hair just grew
more and more!
It was a diddly-dop puzzle; what on earth would she do!
She tried running away but the hair caught in her shoe!
She tried braiding it, but the braid spilled out onto the street.
People had to jump up and down to avoid stepping on it
with their feet.
One day a man, name of Mr. H. Goodman Sinclaire
said “I could make many coats with those reddish locks there”
He was a coatmaker, turned scraps into coats he gave away
to poor children absolutely, completely, in every way
making their day!
He called his friend, Moquilla R. Gorilla, and told his plan
Can you call somebody to help us, if you please, my man?
Moquilla thumped his chest 5 times, called gorillas far and near
Miss Christy Sambristy will give us her hair, if we can
find a shear.
He read the Gorilla directions book for hair-cutting ways.
It won't be easy to find this, it may take twenty days.
So bring me some shark fins dipped in green ocean foam
He spread it on every hair, ON EVERY LAST HAIR HE PUT
green ocean foam!
Miss Christy Sambristy is one happy girl
Her hair is short enough now to curl
Mr. H. Goodman Sinclaire is happy, too
He decided to take all the poor children
to the zoo!
Did I mention it took three hundred and one
fat gorillas to carry Miss Christy's
hair home!
March 31, 2023
for "Write A Sweet Fairy Tale for Children with a Happy Ending, etc. contest
by B.J. Legros Kelley
I sink lower in the cupboard
of the front hall closet
beneath the stairs,
behind a row of forgotten coats
that hang quietly before me.
They mock my cowardice
as I crouch beneath their silent judgement...
I'm alone in the shadows created by a
jaundiced yellow bulb that barely burns
brighter than the flame on a candle.
I hug my knees as I sit and wallow in regret for my mistakes;
but all I really want to do is stand up
and tear down every last coat, one-by-one.
Here ye! Hear ye! Comedy lives here
It's all I know... whups, the white coats are near
It tickles my bum
To know that some
Need medical attention, their addiction's severe
Here ye! Hear ye! Comedy lives here
It's all I know... whups, the white coats are near
It tickles me bum
To know that some
Need medical attention, their addiction's severe
to the men in lab coats with horns like unto goats,
an open confession of a minor isotope:
I -- so -- Hope that a day shall dawn
when men no longer long
for the things that do not belong
and are, oh so wrong
for mine and your and his and her song.
Have you heard the song we sing?
Like a toad's song on a summer night,
or wedding bells that ring,
for the virgin in white,
pure as the driven snow?
No?
Know what?
The toad hoards the dream to sing
with a voice not broken
and a chorus not of croaking
but alas! he keeps choking
on the flies of his own lies
as SHE (the queen mother) belies,
bequeathed yet bespoken
to a king, comely, and oft misspoken.
I (not one to spread misgivings
and false learnings), I give you, Miss, a token.
A token of a key in a minor chord
for the song worth singing
from Hell's lowest floorboard
to Heaven's own pearly door.
Take it and run, never to show a soul
but place it safely in the hole
in your face and swallow it whole.
In your belly it will thrive
-- half dead but all alive --
until the time is right and the beat is clear.
Then you will belt your song
for the Universe to hear.
Sing it strong and carry the notes so long.
Doubt it not, for you cannot be wrong.
Know ye now
that from whence the world was frozen --
that you, my dear, were already pre-chosen
and the path for you was already paved
that through this song of mine
and yours
and his
and hers,
thou woman, through your song
mankind shall be saved.
I never knew what to fill the spaces with
Sometimes I didn't even see them
They were disguised under many coats
With hidden pockets of shallowness
And oversized buttons to mismatched holes.
It didn't matter most of the time
Because the tailor never stopped sewing more
And I was content to let them lie
Beneath the growing pile of tweed
And gaberdine and wrinkled linen
Kind fabrics who wrapped them up
And kept them warm and unprepared
But as time went on and more people
Left the party, the pile of coats
Gradually disappeared and the tailor
couldn't keep up the pace of making
The spaces could be easily filled at first
With dreams, with passion, with sorrow,
With the wrap of a Cherub's leg in bed,
With the carefree knowing there'd be time
To butter them with tears or laughter
Or use their emptiness for meditation
But in the spaces that are left
A greater contemplation is required
It is necessary for them to be filled
With greater aspiration which in itself
Brings further sorrow for deep within them
Is the simple indication
That I will not have enough time
To fill them all.
© Allen Ansell 2025
Painting #5
Autumn in France by Emily Carr 1911
Coats of Autumn
Satisfied,
long awaited
summer fades
into an explosion
of color, I bask
in the many coats of Autumn
draped across the shoulders
of a grateful people.
Merci to the Creator
of such splendor,
I behold textures
unlike any other
As far as the eyes can see,
I stare into unmeasured
beauty, absorbing it all
before the snow brings
beauty of its own.
A gem I taught in his school
And under him grabbed the rule:
An Igbo man from Okpo,
Whose enemies she shot “Kpoo!”
With him you don’t around fool:
He’d begin to lose his cool.
Staff learnt to submit their notes,
Even if one had twelve coats
But with same staff reveled
And with that up things leveled…
No intimidating him -
His wine glass fills to the brim;
To me a Second Father
That should’ve been First rather…
When Okpo had wars Radar
But would not burst foe’s bladder;
For himself raised sweet children,
Who avoided hot Cauldron:
A hero engineer son,
Who goes out to meet the Sun
And a lawyer daughter
One might rate Cleanest Water…
Just recently lost his wife;
Death has walked in with its knife!
But he’s the unstoppable
Forever capable!
a flurry of snow
natures ticker-tape parade...
snowflake confetti
Snow day students were tickled pink today
playfully making snow angels all-day
but nobody knew
they laid in dog poo
till that thin layer of snow got scraped away.
And as their coats reeked, they sat at the back of the bus the next day.
(haiku, limerick, Monoku)
01/24/2022
Charlie Hai-Lim-Ku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Charles Messina
Ivory bushes bear
accelerated evolution
and abstract incarnations
a reverie reserved as veil
fables too blatant to reveal
crescendos rise within
what remains of
the cityscape's heartbeat
science knows what we fear
By Glenn McCrary
© 2012 Glenn McCrary (All rights reserved)
there's all kind
winter coats in line
many color too
red white and blue
you an buy on line
anytimes
for miles and miles
COATS WINTER STYLE