Best Dress Poems
"Marionette of Flesh in a Borrowed Dress"
- Daniel Henry Rodgers
The hourglass,
a skeletal jester
mocks in the tomb's chill
Each falling grain an emaciated sigh,
"Soon you'll cease to be."
The mirror's cold reflection,
a Gorgon's ghastly guise
A marionette of flesh with vacant...
hollow...
colorless eyes.
The worms, like pallid mourners
watch me shrink
A marionette of organs,
cold and pale, pink.
This flesh, a borrowed dress
once sprightly
Now stained and thin
Holds tight the secrets only
death can win.
This borrowed dress,
a shroud where my story's writ
In laughter's faded stitch
and tear's accusing slit.
A map of life etched deep
with scars that mar the grain.
A raven of fleeting triumphs
a pendulum of ceaseless pain.
In the shadowed hollows
where sorrow resides
I languish.
marionettes of fate's cruel designs!
Each scratch and cut a lament.
each tear a bitter sea!
Bound by the chains of my...
limited mortality.
In this borrowed dress,
I mourn what could have been...
Lost in the convulsion of my own... sin.
I am transformed
but not redeemed.
I am drifting into the void
My spirits are shattered
and my dreams destroyed.
So in the silence of eternity
I find my rest
Lost in this body of my own...
detest.
And though this shell
a chrysalis
soon withers
and decays
I cast aside the shroud
no longer bound or worn.
Accept the endless night,
where a new self-forlorn is bourne.
Transformed
a residual relic
through the void
I fly
Suture with stardust catgut,
a worn scroll in the sky.
It was the last year of high school and there was a lack of beaux,
But then I got an invite. Whew, that was close!
So now the Prom was coming and I was going to go!
Mom gassed up for the city, headed out with me in tow,
Big stores all hunched together on a tall and scary street,
One dress along a rack with just repeat, repeat, repeat.
But Mom found a creation in an entirely different place,
Moulded tulle and satin, fairy dust and moonlit lace!
I thought she was kidding though the thing was just my size.
I was worried; fairy tales don't often turn out to be wise.
And the price tag is ridiculous! I said Mom take a look!
She plunked it down determinedly, tore a check out of the book.
That left a lot for me to do. My looks are commonplace.
New makeup and new lipstick; how about new face?
Silken shoes, a tiny purse, it's a lot of stress
Just trying to live up to this fantastic dress!
Rhinestone droplets dangle dangerous from my ear,
My long hair piled up high. How much taller I appear!
Prom night came...Poor Tommy! I was done up to impress.
My hair swept up, my makeup on, long earrings and the Dress!
He stood there in the doorway, uncertain in his tux,
Black tie, stiff shirt; this is getting all too much!
The corsage he held between us was carnations glowing red.
He looked up cautiously and ventured; "Is that you, Bo?" he said.
My shirts are tired of me.
'You're tiresome', they say,
'shouldn't you leave soon ?'
My socks take their orders
from my shoes,
or is it the other way around ?
Never mind, they agree anyways,
'You've had your fun', they say.
'you should quit now,
before you're too far behind.'
My jeans, all black as my shirts,
they're tired of the tedium
of holding me safe.
'You've got a bit tedious', they say,
'we're bored now, go.'
My briefs are last to reject me,
and most cruel.
'Don't abandon me', I plead,
'I'll die of shame !'
'Yes', they say,
'that's the point, isn't it ?'
26th August 2019
She Wore Blue Dress, Flowers Her Laurel Crown
She had only soft blue skies and romance
Attending angels at her beck and call
A golden life, with nothing left to chance
All her lovers came from Valhalla's halls.
A beauty, with glowing emerald eyes
With red lips begging ravishing desires
A true vixen, fallen from moonlit skies
Siren setting hungry souls on fire!
She wore blue dress, flowers her laurel crown
This I confess, her kisses honeyed gems
Remember her in lush silk morning gown
Brightest golden thread adorning its hem.
Her red lips, havens of hottest retreat
Hands begging to be held, heart pleading more
Manna, a lover would relish to eat,
Visions of paradise's welcoming shore!
She had only soft blue skies and romance
Attending angels at her beck and call
A golden life, with nothing left to chance
All her lovers came from Valhalla's halls.
Robert J. Lindley, 6-01-2020
Romanticism, ( From A Memory, A Vision, A Youthful Treasure )
Note:
This poem was inspired by my reading of Lady
Labyrinth's truly magnificent poem, titled-
"Horus in Paradise", this is my tribute and
homage paid to a very, fine poetess, and for
such an inspirational poem that gave rise to me
setting pen to hand and composing on the spot.
Syllables Per Line:
10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10
Total # Syllables:200
Total # Words::::140
Edit - Awarded Poem Of The Week- 6/07/2020
Her Red coloured dress resembled
a Venetian house
which lay besides the gondola
in an unrealized dream
as the Gondola retreated
through the hazy eyes of the canal
the house kept on getting bigger
painting one part of the lake
with a mixed coating of
the red
and the green accumulated piece
of the ubiquitous waters
but still red was the colour
green was the envy
she was herself
with the poets
while a poet
let one more dream die
It was perfect for any occasion, with
the right accessories, like the traveling
pieces Mozart carried court to court.
No matter what style or instrument
the reigning virtuoso favored, violin
or piano left-hand, the master would have
just the thing to sparkle an entertainment.
Just so. One small stone would sparkle
at her throat, or her left hand, to favor
the violet of her eyes. A virtuoso
she was, a Mozart in the instrument
of style. Perfectly right, one dress
would carry her, court to court, as she
traveled through life on her accessories.
Oh no! What are YOU doing here?
I haven’t seen you in a year!
But I’m sure it’s perfectly clear,
I’m still red-dress fabulous, Dear!
You thought you could steal my spotlight?
You sauntered in like it’s your right.
But now you know, it's no fair fight—
I’m red-dress fabulous, tonight!
Surely you see, it’s my parade!
You’ve been upstaged. You’ve been out played!
And now your welcome’s been overstayed,
there in my red-dress-fabulous shade!
It's getting late and you should fly-
I bid you, red-dress-fabulous Good-bye!
January 15, 2019
Poem of the Day ~ January 17, 2019
I savor silence and my solitary dreams, my wanderings
and in my candlelit room, I withdraw
to my secret place and you
I have put on our wedding dance music
and I am travelling back, back in time with a sigh
I know what comes next and I want to weep with love
my dress is a cloud of red chiffon flowing, flowing
and you my darling, are in a black suit
soft the jazz music drifting in my meditation
did I put that music on or did it just come to me
you whisper in my ear, I love you, and I turn the page
back, back, I turn back the pages
we swirl onto the dance floor, twirling and dipping perfectly
and the red chiffon is beauty
kiss me my darling your whisper or is that the music
your strong arms hold me tightly, oh I remember
and we are spinning, spinning, spinning
then the music is loud like thunder, roaring
and you are fading
our hands slipping
then our fingertips
and still we are spinning
until you are gone and I am alone
yet the music goes on and on
and in my candlelit room, I take a deep breath . . .
__________________________________
February 5, 2016
Poetry/Free Verse/my dress is a cloud of red
Copyright Protected, ID 16-1109-825-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, 2019 Marathon, Mile 14
sponsor, Mark Toney
First Place
@@@@@
A bit of a trickster, but more like a treat;
with black tuxedo, he always looks neat,
but proper he isn’t – he naps in a bowl!
He’s learned from the fate of my brother who stole… ;)
so he won’t consume, but where will he hide
when goblins and ghouls lurk to see what’s inside?
@@@@@
Note: "my brother who stole" is a reference to two poems I posted just before this :)
That Beautiful Mane And Her Pretty Dress
Should a poet grab on and celebrate
A bit of poesy or her virgin kiss
Finding her was it purest luck or fate
O' lord her soft smile this man sure does miss
And our weekend trek through to rolling hills
That cool breeze begging us ever onward
"Those tempting June nights full of golden thrills".
That beautiful mane and her pretty dress
The pure delight in her ravishing eyes
Our picnic that day became a sad mess
But deep was the love that so strongly ties.
I shall never forget when she gave in
Gave up the wonderful treasure to me
In youth we cared not about any sin
We were happy-go lucky and carefree.
Robert Lindley, 6-1- 2023
Sonnet
Note-
She was so sexy and just so beautiful,
We split because she went back to Hawaii
to go to college. She was a definite keeper but
life got in the way.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dIoleidZAiQ
Miles away from home where the sun is on fire with yesterdays dreams
an Indian sari gown of silk and bead arrives bending the wind to its will
warm rain and saffron tinted skies caress gold eyelids and irises of old
Miles away from home the strings of my guitar recall Indian streams
and warm walks on the beach. A faint song clings to her ghostly figure
like a lyrical refrain, while a fading light begins to lose its shine ....
August smiles still simmer on my mind , I was a young man in love
with a Princess who cradled my heart to the rocking motion of the moon;
She took me to Saffron Hill, then flowered me with poetry, oh what a thrill
to be so close to the sun and not to burn from the throws of her quill ...
Miles away from home I felt the power of her light and then she was gone,
like the monsoon rains of India, she disappeared in September leaving me
to strum my sitar in a Cincinnati bar, watching neon lights light up,
I told it to old Fred , but he just smiled at me and handed me
a saving thread , "Son, you'll always have your memories"
and then, he handed me another Sangria, the color of her swiveling dress
August 3, 2020
BRIDAL DRESS FOR THE HAWTHORN TREE
In the church garden fair,
One glorious May day near the ides -
Blossom on gown and hair
Flowing, floating down her sides,
Bosom and bouquet - the bride’s
Glowing in the warm spring embrace
Of her golden groom. She flowers
With bloom on her cheeks and face;
Then, in light petalled showers,
She fills the wood’s fragrant bowers:
Blossom-confetti litters and turns
To white the path through her roots unseen.
Then the hawthorn tree returns
Again to her everyday working green -
From her role as May Queen.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . .
NOTE
The hawthorn tree in bloom with white flowers in spring is a beautiful
sight, but lasts only a short time, like a wedding celebration.
Hawthorn trees are known as May trees, and they appear in the proverb
“Cast ne’er a clout till May is out.” Many people think this means
you must keep wearing winter clothers till the end of the month of May,
but it really means until the May tree’s blossom-flowers are out.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Written by Sydney Peck 2 February 2012
Entered in Francine Roberts's Contest "English quintain a spring day"
Mekhela chador
I was too hurry and overwhelmed
To embrace the attire
"mur maa rr mekhela chador" ( - "my mater's Indigenous Traditional Assamese Dress")...
The days in kindergarten,
I cherish the attire, in her wardrobe enhanced and ironed
The dining hours,
I often queried her, to own the attire
And in festive tyrant,
She dressed herself in the silken weaving attire
The onset of puberty;
My body and soul celebrated draping of the attire
From my breast to my waist to my ankle
For the first time, I engulfed the feeling of being a woman (and beautiful)
All coyness and tenderness are ornate as my fragrance
The attire was made of silk in creamy white and cherry thread
Like droplets of cherry-red blood unfurling the snowy linen
And the ears heard joyously whispering me
"mur maa rr mekhela chador" ( - "my mater's Indigenous Traditional Assamese Dress")...
"Blue Dress"
Temptation
Green as an
Apple
Blue
into the arms
of Hell
Red
"LIFE"
Read
the bite of an Apple
Stopped me short
and
YOU,
despite
all
Yellow Brick Road
Tornadoes
Stood by me
Silent, still, strong and
eloquent
Where is Love sung?
Love is sung
in the
Blue Notes
Dressed in Blue
The letters of a spell
undressed and unravelled
covert under cover
Manifestation sings softly
as you turn over
Jade eyes reflecting
Green four leaf clovers
floating deep in
Secret Oceans of Blue
"Where Do I Belong?"
The Key is held
on a tongue
passed with a dream,
on Mid Summer Night's
Jubilee kiss
from Forest of Arden
MAGIC.
The key is passed
through the Daemon's
Mirrors -
HOME.
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
Into Temptation / Crowded House
https://youtu.be/fSa1o_vT0EI
1. Brett Whitely
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brett_Whiteley
2. Brett Whitely Studio
https://www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au/brett-whiteley-studio/
3. Lyrics: Into Temptation / Crowded House
https://genius.com/Crowded-house-into-temptation-lyrics
4. Daemon
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daemon_(classical_mythology)
I saw a perfect shade of white
So elegant
That it must have been a figment
So elegant
Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump
Says the heart in my chest
When it sees you
The way it lays on you
Is stellar and sublime like the clouds in the sky
A white dress so perfect
That it blinds me with your radiating fairness
The whiteness of a soul
Is a cool shade of grey compared to your beauty
Tremble, Tremble
My knees are now dancing
In your presence
A rare sparkling jewel you are
Gleaming brightly
Like a white sun parting the clouds
Gleaming brightly