Best Dungarees Poems

In alleys devoid of light,
runaways sleep on the street.
And fear arrives late at night
to feed upon their conceit.

Delusions exchanged for lies,
youths gather within the park.
And...

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Nature programs are all the rage on TV
The only thing interesting between you and me
Just one specie of millions
Livings in this pavilion
Imagine all the poop...

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The temperature dropped by six degrees, 
snow now carpets the ground and tall fir trees.
I adore wintry days such as these,
and dash to the shed...

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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...

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It was "The Cape" in early June
Along with her sister Vie
They had strolled down past the dunes
Under a cloudless sky

She could taste the ocean salt...

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Bello (hello)let me tell you about some Minions
Brightly covered single-cell organisms
Small yellow cylindrical creatures
With one eye and sometimes two
Not sure why . . . 
Minions...

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A snowy Christmas is what we all prayed for
Probably because it never happened before
We didn’t need it to have Christmas cheer
But it sure would be...

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Dad looking at that weatherboard house, Old Tooters home,
A thrifty man.. us to him did his brother send,
Saying that the place could do with a...

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The dancing pardners, dressed in dungarees,
With checkered shirts, and Stetsons, boots and spurs,
Are at a wedding. Joy the bride now asks
The band to play a...

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Chino

By Edmund Siejka

(from East Of Seventh, Local Gems Press publisher. Available on Amazon)


Waiting near a candy store 
For something to happen
Chino pretended to be his...

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Look at me, boy how things have changed
Don’t know how life got so rearranged
Never saw it coming but it feels so good

One day my eyes,...

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The dancing pardners, dressed in dungarees,
With checkered shirts, and Stetsons,  boots and spurs,
Are at a wedding. Joy the bride now asks 
The band to...

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Part I.

Harvest time was winding down, 
I was taking lunch in town, 
After spending six long hours plowing stubble.
Washing up I met a man, 
Guessed...

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there once stood a man who in dungarees trained,
all his horses to run with his denim shirt stained.

There were fresh jars of liquor and bushels...

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I found a bit of poetry
tacked up on a door
while wandering through the halls
of the latest-greatest war

So I scootchied up my dungarees,
and with squinty eyes...

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