Best Fashionable Poems
Fashionable Fall flaunts her lustrous leaves,
catwalks flowing flora with earnest ease.
Haunting lullabies from the quaking trees
cast chilling currents from mountain to keys.
Dancing diamonds of glistening glow
show skies with promise of soon-to-be snow.
Sunrises and sunsets are a fireworks show
scattering the stars like dice in a throw.
Gowns of complementary colors trace
ribboned harvest fields at riotous pace.
Swirling with natural, elegant grace,
her glamor failing and fast losing face.
Tattered trees largely stripped bare of their clothes
leave a psychedelic pathway that flows.
With each rowdy breeze, it gustily blows,
and turns pale snozzle to a reddened nose.
With stinging, shallow breath and crimson cheeks
embrace lacy lakes and mountains’ paling peaks
till Winter steals through Fall and solemnly seeks
favor for upcoming ice-hearted weeks.
A modern trimming,
Grin and bear it.
The slap of a buckle,
Reminiscent of the squeeze.
Laces bloodied,
From a prayer of acceptance.
Breathing is optional.
The shove to a corner,
Start early for pattern recognition,
Bind the idea prematurely.
Numbed pain,
Limited motion.
Embrace wind through the long locks,
It's only an illusion of progression.
I find myself trapped by bodies that move with this continuous stride and feet that march with fashionable certainty. My feet falter sideways to make room as I’m forced to face the faces, forced to catch the eyes that catch on me. Changing direction at this point would only draw more attention. So I step through the exit, reducing in size and I reach for my entrance.
My one word to describe myself is Outgoing
I am very funny, smart, nice and outspoken
My siblings names are Champion, Cataleya and Vallaree
I love Michael Jackson, Food and Friends
Sometimes my feelings are Sad, Hurt and Happy
I am very scared of Spiders, Death and CLOWNS
My favorite rappers or singers are Ynw Melly, Cardi B and Ozuna
I am a resident of Hemet
I am very Fashionable
When I was young
I could cut three holes
to wear a black garbage bag
as a mini-skirt over
torn fishnet pantyhose,
with fishhooks in my ears,
and I was totally-totally fashionable.
I do it now
and invariably someone asks
if I'm okay
and do I need help.
in the magazines
anorexic women
men who look infatuated by them
psychological manipulation
not yet fixed
The reason it only happens to those few
different psychological types
and that one targeted
By studying myself i realise
the potential i have to change minds
and alter lives
those similar and like minded more strongly affected
one psychological mindset
victomised to fail
the media affects this psychological type
more than anyone other in this negative way
This is the way you have been led to become strong
weakening the one to prove there is a problem
targetting the one mind affected by this supposed crime the most
raising your soldiers costs more lives than you know
the media that sells you this lie
in more control of the show
like dominos we are all affected in a negative light
can't tag the butcher
of this media pope rape
snowballing aftermath of the foundation
of a widespread psychological attack
targeting the protector of the psychological family
with the lies of fight or flight
and they choose to fight
this fashionable aftermath eventually takes its toll
eventually to ponder if we are under attack
yet each society does it to itself because of the media disaster
the fashionable aftermath leaves parents to apathetic to care
for their children taking drugs rather than sending them to rehab
doctors feel mistrusted, mothers not sure why they hurt soo much
this war crime you are victom to
is making it hard for lovers to find eachother
time and time again the fight for love in a world of hate
when you are better off being sexually bought off
the sociopathic psychology is the one being targetted
and the one who seems to remain in control of something
they dont understand
Fashion’s symbolic sensuality draws eyes, stir passions and maybe even resentments! =]
Of course, maybe you’re above worldly conceits, above fashion. YOU, go through life as unaware as sinless Adam and you’re excessively handsome, or pretty, obviously.
But for the rest of us - fashion is the medium of our beauty and God created Paris for fashion.
We’re pretending we’ve come to Paris (our immediate, pandemic safety-pod-family) for a family reunion - but REALLY, we’re on safari - a freshmen, college-wear, “back to school,” ensemble hunt (for meeeeeeeeeeee!).
Step 1 (there’s only 1 step) - go to the Rue Saint-Honoré.
This year, I like-like Anna Molinari - most of the ready-to-wear daily-trash I snapped-up is hers - all hers. It didn’t start out that way - but she sould me on an uncharted course at first sight.
Other designers seem to be pushing old-lady-looking floral prints this season. Eeuw! Why?? DIAF.
My gran-mère (grandmother) told me - 6 days ago - as she attempted to tame my run-away hair: “You need to be unpredictable, petite beauté, not some comely young automaton. Then everyone will find you interesting and watch to see what you do next.”
Thank you, gran-mère - I’ll settle for looking interesting any time.
"Help," he cried underneath the ground
but we buried him too fast
and the time is past, the sky is ebony,
I can't even touch it with one finger,
my wrist dripping diamonds and pearls
the wrist you grabbed beneath the moon,
and we sought to uncover the ways of the ones
who bring forth soliloquys on a whim.
Death means nothing to the forsaken flowers
left behind for the puppy to chew.
"i'm sorry we buried you too fast,"
I could hardly speak as I choked on chocolate milk;
my watch has stopped
from diving into the ocean
and talking to the sharks
who laughed at my imagination
and then gave me nightmares.
We'll dig you up from your resting place
and let you sign a contract for life,
listening to the blood sing in your veins
and watching as the purple bleeds scarlet
on all of our capes.
I haven't written to you lately,
I know I haven't sung a tune
but the skies are too dark
for the sun to shine in this lonely room
and I gave the pen to a homeless man
who needs it more than I do
though he just got kicked out of the post office
right before noon;
is it closing time already?
We'll give you new skin
and erase the mummy's bandages,
we have a party tonight and you can't look too ancient,
but death is fashionable nowadays
so you should be a hit.
Looking stylish isn't enough,
You must look better than anyone.
Worry not, the tailors and personal shoppers
will help you out.
Fresh clothes, sleek shoes, glittering bling, and
a sexy aroma.
Everyone is looking your way.
Catching everyone's eye until
Another steals the envious looks.
Stylist, hairdresser, makeup artist revamp your look.
Outshine the person who dares to steal the spotlight.
Breaths of awe, roaring applause.
The limelight is where you belong.
Only for another to take away your earned attention,
As the cycle rewinds again,
Look after look, striking down those who attempt
to take your limelight.
Over and over again,
You keep losing the attention of others.
Recycling the awe you gained from when all eyes
were on you.
Wanting to relive that moment,
Never again,
Unlike you, the newer fashion icons live in that moment
You wish for.
"Helo," he cried from underneath the ground,
but we buried him too fast,
and the time is past, the sky is ebony,
I can even touch it with one finger,
my wrist dripping diamonds and pearls,
the wrist you grabbed beneath the moon,
and we sought to uncover the ways of the ones
who bring forth soliloquys on a whim;
death means nothing to the forsaken flowers
left behind for the puppy to chew.
"I'm sorry we buried you too fast,"
i could hardly speak as I choked on chocolate milk.
My watch has stopped from diving into the ocean
and talking to the sharks
who laughed at my imagination
and then gave me nightmares.
We'll dig you up from your resting place
and let you sign a contract for life,
listening to the blood sing in your veins
and watching as the purple bleeds scarlet
on all of your capes.
I haven't written to you lately,
I know I haven't sung a tune,
but the skies are too dark
for the sun to shine in this lonely room,
and I gave the pen to a homeless man
who needs it more than i do
though he just got kicked out of the post office
right before noon,
is it closing time already?
We'll give you new skin
and erase the mummy's bandages;
we have a party tonight
and you can't look too ancient,
but death is fashionable nowadays
so you should be a hit.
Missy Dee was as fashionably dressed as any duck ever was.
We saw elaborate clothing on her duck tail and her fuzz.
There was extra pizazz in her little duck waddle for sure.
She was queen of the pond. The cattails bowed at her demure.
J-oyful
O-bjective
N-icely
A-pplies
T-he
H-appiness
A-s
N-ame
S-imply
W-orks
I-n
F-ashionable
T-echnique
Topic: Birthday of Poet Jonathan Swift (November 30)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
She was a willowy creature,
lithe and svelte.
Her fangs were deep set
and hardly showed
but once in a blue moon.
Her beauty was un-stunning,
though acceptable
in the glare of the stage lights.
A model she was,
but of just what
it was hard to tell.
No matter who you ask
If you expect two adjectives
One of them will be fashionable
She is a diva cat, dressed to the eights.
I would have said nines, but that is rude
considering what nine means in the lives of a cat.
She arrived today with a self-portrait bag.
We begged to know where she ordered it.
Of course she had conveniently forgotten,
not wanting to share her fashionable ways
with the rest of us.
Decisions, decisions'
Oh, what will I wear today?
Should it be the blue shirt or Red?
Which tie goes well with the gray?
With so many options to select from.
Which one will it be?
How should I appear before you-
What should I let you see?
A variety of both colors and styles,
In pants, and shirts, and shoes.
These allow me to present myself to the world,
In whichever facade I choose'
I can mix; I can match;
Or select color that blend.
Can you tell which one is truly me-
You, who are my friend?
Casual style or formal;
Perhaps something in between.
So many ways, on different days,
That I can opt to be seen.
Yet there is a greater question,
Begging to be asked:
Will you take time to find the real me,
If I choose to wear a mask?
A bright smile and a cheery hello,
May be hiding a broken heart'
Will you make the effort, my friend,
To love me anyway, right from the start?
Spend time with me and learn my ways,
And you will discover the meaning of love.
But only One knows my inner feelings;
He is my Father above'
Arthur Ball(H.S.L.P.)
April 29, 2007