Best Handbags Poems
Disco dreams and disco balls
Big city,bright lights
Pub crawls and bar fights.
Mini frocks and hair dyes
Made up faces
Mascara filled eyes.
Vodka martinis and champagne
Bus trips and black cabs
Standing in the rain.
Nightclubs and deejays
Entry stamps on wrists
And tattooed fists.
Late nights and hangovers
Fast cars and kebabs
White wine spritzers
And mishaps.
One night stands and live bands
Autographs and queues
Sing-a-longs and sad songs
And over packed loos.
One line gags and handbags
Glitter and sparkling eyes
Cigarettes and suffragettes
Gossip and lies.
Brawls,another one falls
Drunks and punks
Frilly skirts and love hurts
And late rides.
Secret kisses and front row seats
Cinema aisles
Red lipped smiles
Beauties and beasts.
Flashy cars and night time stars
Takeaways and glad rags
Silly jokes and whiskey cokes
Dreams and high hopes.
Nights out and walkabouts
Cheap thrills and teenage wonder
Hitch hikes and motorbikes
Delinquent lightning and thunder.
Resolution this year…stop buying spree,
Infinite number …shoes, jewellery!
Dior purses, handbags nice,
Chanel dresses, reduced price,
Family panicks at purchase they see!
Clear the wardrobe, full of expensive clothes…
Gucci, Klein, Kors - covering head to toes,
I must donate some good stuff,
Don't I have outfits enough!
For a lifetime of posh glamour I chose!
Scampi in a basket Plastic palm trees
A 70#s night club in Rotherham
They called Tiffany's.
Ever Friday night me and my mates would hit town
Go on a pub crawl and then later
Boogie on down.
I recall how the girls would dance around their handbags
Like it was some kind of fertility dance
And we were out to pull a bird
For some romance.
We'd stand at the side of the dance floor
Eyeing them up Trying to summon up some courage
To go dance and chat them up
But we needed more beer to sup.
As the music blared and the lights flashed
We soon emptied our pockets of cash
The girls looked so pretty dancing just a few feet a way
But to me at least
It seemed that they were out of my league
And it was as though they were a million miles away.
Should I risk it and take a chance to go and dance
Think I'll just have another drink first.
Five drinks later and I still hadn't drunk enough
To go and chat them up
And off I'd stumble to the toilets for the twentieth time
While all my friends were dancing
And having such a great time.
Suddenly I was drunk as a skunk and thought I was superman
I'd stumble back onto the dance floor
Trying to look cool like Bryan Ferry
But tripping over the girls handbags
An d looking such a fool
As the room spun around and around
But off to the toilet I'd have to again go
Another drink on the way back and I was ready
To chat someone up at last
Bit the music had stopped
And it was too late
The dance floor was empty
And most of the clubbers
Had gone home
And I was stood there swaying and falling about
On my own.
So Me and my mates would take a taxi home
I'd be sick all over the taxi drivers back
Always the same on the way back.
When I got home the room began to spin
The loud music still ringing in my ears
I'd be so drunk I'd just fall into bed
And wake up the next morning with a huge headache
And rocks in my head.
Never again I'd think to myself.
I was sick my pockets were empty
And had the biggest headache
Didn't get a girl or get a date
I might as well thrown my money down the toilet
And hit myself over the head with a very large fish
But we did the same thing every week
And I couldn't wait.
Peter Dome.Copyright.2015.May.
Saturday garage sale- moving to an old heritage apartment,
Years of collecting, but lots must go, even things of contentment.
Two china cabinets, one from Mom, one Grandma, they bring a smile,
Perhaps, I can somehow keep them in wall to wall old china cabinet style.
As I go through my many things and stuff, I say why did I ever get that,
Clothing gothic, retro and vintage lace, shoes, handbags, jewelry and hats.
A broken and battered filing cabinet- it holds poetry written from my heart,
Need a new filing system for sure, should I sell, NO we can never be apart.
Vases and vases, colorful and quite dusty in my window, quite useless,
Porcelain dishes in my cupboards for years, lost in forgetfulness.
Old VHS movies, watched, outdated music and just loads, tons of stuff,
How does one say goodbye, garage sale Saturday, oh this will be so rough.
I think, I should hang on sign on myself, reading broken heart, for sale,
well suck it up as Grandma used to say and lets have a grand old garage sale.
_________________________
September 8, 2012
Poetry/Couplet/Broken Heart, For Sale
Copyright Protected, ID 09-419-262-09
All Rights Reserved, 2012, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, A Poet's Garage Sale
sponsor, A Skat, Judged 10/23/2012
Ninth Place
Submitted to the Standard contest, Any Couplet You Wish II
sponsor, Laura Loo, Judged
First Place
While lounging in my duster* watching news,
I have my morning coffee. When I'm through,
I wash my cup and saucer and admire
their elegance and pleasing shade of blue.
Like other lovely things I own--handbags,
Americana wreaths, and jewelry--
my dusters, cups, and saucers all came from
the popular Blue Daisy Company.
************************
Blue daisy plants don't flourish where I live;
and, even if they did, they wouldn't thrive
for me. I'm death to flowers! So I have
the artificial ones. They look alive!
Most of my rooms are graced with vases of
these blue silk beauties that appeal to my
calm, meditative side or to my sense
of whimsy. Then they make me smile and sigh.
*housedress
written June 18, 2017, and entered in Mystic Rose's Blue Daisy Contest
French madamoselles Favorite harmonica music Cafe
Perfectly poised coifferd perfumed elegantly sipping in
Floral velvet suit gloves hat matching shoes+handbags
Sitting gossipping giggling intoxicating atmosphere
Exclusive Famous impressionist artists french cafe
Gladly accomodates all dogs from first class owners
Pink diamonde studded chihuhaua , Lola+pink poodle
Huge bulging eyes wet little nose snubs all doggy bags
Pink poodle ,Pepe patiently waits to order chicken pate
Waiter white apron whips pencil behind ear Anticipation
Accepts her envelope on small silver tray + huffs away
Cutting stones for building blocks doesn't
bring the whole food at the table. Playing
betting games force them to sell their
clothes and shoes. Saving money becomes
harder than collecting drops of rain during
drought.
Their children toil in the farms and streets,
because they have no school fees;
their daughters end up as pleasure toys
for the rich, for they don't have enough money
to buy sanitary pads and maintaining beauty;
their sons become easy prey for politicians
who pay a few hundreds for causing chaos
to their opponents.....
Gods' eyes shy away from their blessings,
forcing them to turn from lawful men
to gang-bangs, hiding around streets
and lavish estates. Frustration sometimes
force them to press the trigger,
as they scoop out handbags, briefcases,
and pockets.
Their lives are sustained for a while in the midst
of inflation and higher house rents. Their children
go back to school, and food becomes more abundant
at the dining table. Debts are also paid.
Soon, the arms of the law stretch to their homesteads,
and put them in handcuffs. Their wives and children
watch in despair. The sole providers are sent in jail,
to serve decades or life sentences.
Hard life is all they know from outside or inside the prison bars.....
As you drove out the Cherokee the Chicaaasaw the Choctaw the muscogee- creek and
Seminole,
so Iwill drive you out.
"I am the lord your God who brought you out of Egypt;
I will Make you Live in tents again,
as in the days of your appointed feasts
I spoke to the profits,
gave them many visions
and told parables through them.
you have awakend a smoldering anger
and i am ageinst you; will you steal from the poor
and do it in my name
will you take the bread of the needy
and trample my laws in the dust
you have awakended my smoldering anger and your time of judgement is drawing near you.
God says: I am against you who steal in my name :
private airplanes ,and boats , a motercycle sent by an anonymous supporter.Vacations in
Hawaii,and cruises in Alaska..desiginer handbags, a ring of emeralds and diamonds
"
God knows where the money is....preached mrs Copeland"
Wedding Reception
We’ll settle by the bar and watch
the women dance, then split a likely
pair, when we think we stand a chance.
I’ve one eye on the bridesmaid, with
the skirt that’s riding high – showing
off the daisies, tattooed upon
her thigh.
The groom is still hung-over;
can’t find the pregnant bride. She dodged
into the box-room – best-man by
her side.
Mothers-in-law are screaming,
‘war,’ handbags all-aflail. Uncle
Jack is on his back. George is green
and frail.
So we’ll linger here and
guzzle beer, till the barman calls
the time. Then make a play for a
pair who sway – join the pantomime...
...Hope you like the big one, with the
bird’s nest in her hair. Because I’m
heading for the bridesmaid, with the
skirt that’s riding high, showing off
the daisies...
This morning at (long) last something-I was robbed in a way I was fearful curious about. What happened?!
Pickpockets are a myth, almost everyone I know have an experience-with.
Pickpocket by definition "a person who steals from the pockets or handbags of others in public places"*Pick pocketing is a crime that in my universe has some nobility because the thief uses no violence or coercion but in a slightly surreptitious furtively steel with the help of a pal carrying away one goods. The stolen item, a "deluxe" half pack of cigarettes whom he could add a wallet with ID's and a dozen dollars. The freakish part is that I track the embezzlement not thinking about any wrongdoing. Reading my daily paper in a coffee shop what pops in an unintended touch far from suspicion putting me wondering for a second and after returning to the usual awakening routine.
A block away when reaching for the pack and after obsessively looking for it, suppositions and hypothesis popped then the understanding. My imaginary fictitious person is true and despite unacceptable and inadmissible is kind of an art. I cannot identify the perpetrators but know exactly when it happened. The errand quickness done with mastery technique and the little loss increase my awareness to this lower members of the crime world that I still find enigmatic.
*Dictionary.com
SHOES, BAGS AND TAGS
I’ve got a thing for handbags, all shapes and sizes
It’s a bother changing, but the occasion always arises
Whether pink, black, white, or brown,
Alongside others, I never wear a frown,
Bags for every season, which allows me different disguises!
Then of course there’s shoes, but here look at the sizes,
And at the heel, not cool to tumble, there’d be reprises,
Bags and shoes must now be matching,
Message sent, prefer to be quite fetching,
My choice is dice dependant, and how everyone surmises!
Ooooh wow...a nice classy fortified wine dressed in a milky white dress. Shimmering for all to see. Injest not the erosive clatter of a purple frog. As it is far to dangerous. One may end up quacking. Or shivering in a bikini on a desert floor at three am. After midnight loopholes are often embellished with sounds so one can use a curly stick to jump into and over the many plates who arrive with handbags edged with carefully extracted silver. Who sounded the hunting horn of Thor? Not I said the fourth dimensional rune stone.I am happy to keep my inscription in this lovely luxurious box. Tinder cartoon it be not. I will wait for the wind. Erotic cries of Freya balancing on cymbal clouds. Exonerating falsities with wisps of sunlit hairs. Box shut. I marvel at the eighty nine acres of a moonlit street. Standing in a sinkhole. Sunken jag. Sunk not a beetroot though. They are very pleased in a jar whirling. Questionable is the beak of a large lobster flying. Often disguised. Disguises are unnecessary and unneeded and often the cackle of a candle can evoke a wandering godly orb. Orbital sound then. Oh good. Injestion and resulting in synchronized delivery in a swamp. Turds are often great for expulsion yet a turnip can be quite quick to move. So tread very carefully in a vegetable patch to avoid scarring. A mist in a mountain is a dew ball but free-falling with a thousand foot golden baseball bat is akin to holding a sword to a heavenly cloud to release acronyms and cones of very charismatic mind orbs. Viewed in orbicular centimetres and carried on the breezes by the caterpillar planes. Planting painting properly posted placed characterful colourful clown club visiting iron rays of dome. Sap seep swept sweltering swelling serpentry sent son. Sun. X and now I will have a sit down on the appropriate asteroid. And drink a large cup of air. Under Up under Up xxxxx
Some people wear smiles out in public
as if those smiles were sewn on their faces.
Often they are adorned by costly apparel.
The women, in flattering makeup and
with hair beautifully coiffured,
flaunt gowns created by renowned fashion designers
and accessorized with glittering jewelry
and expensive heels and handbags.
They are the rich, the “beautiful people,”
social butterflies in a rainbow of colors
seen attending their special clubs and functions
or charity benefits,
where they flit about with others of their elite class.
I have seen them on television
and representations of them in movies.
I suppose viewing them impersonally this way
is the closest I will ever get to them
as I sit watching them from my well-worn sofa,
knowing that nobody can have a life
so seemingly perfect
yet marveling
at their rainbow colored camouflage.
For the Rainbow Colored Camouflage Contest of Ir0nic ZiNk
I look in the mirror
There I see the prettiest girl in the world
For all her curves and edges
She sure is a sight for sore eyes
She knows her beauty is a weapon
The sharpest she could ever wield
Certainly mightier than the pen
Sharpened only by her brains
She is a force
Defeat a distant acquaintance
Nothing that stands in her way
Ever lives to see another day
Brick by brick
This girl built herself up
With help from passers-by
Who didn't know it was an empire they helped build
The girl in the mirror
Is content
In a shoebox in the street
Or in her mansion up on Wilbery Street
Cause she got that inner peace
Rosè on the roof
Designer handbags year-round
The newest wheels in her driveway
Is the only way she rolls
Prayer sewn to her side
Jesus tattooed on her heart
The Holy Spirit her only confidant
Her faith her foundation
The girl in the mirror
Thinks of her faults
Like brush strokes of an artist
Perfect in their imperfection
She is a masterpiece
No need of change
Rich in health and in wealth
Gorgeous on the inside and the outside
The girl in the mirror
Is the best part of me
I feel lucky to know her
Maybe one day I'll get to be her
A voice in the mirror,
God your good looking
The gladiators chin
And the eyes of Perseus
Captured in the energy of youth
This night belongs to him
But love has many players
Its Intoxication is addictive
Saturday night on the town
Wildlife on display
From the liar bird to the labra doodle,
To the lion and the jackals
Each eyeing the herds of Wilder beasts,
Displaying their courtship rituals
Dancing round the sacred handbags.
Ready to stampede at
The sound of last orders please
Glances across the dance floor
The weak and easy, singled out
The outcome uncertain, the winner
Destined for passion, or maybe more
The loser, to sit alone on the bus home,
That miserable face in the window
That passes by as you cross the road.
Consolation found in a cold kebab
And just one last thought,
As you burp, before that lager sleep
Mirror, mirror on the wall
You tell lies.