Best Hang Loose Poems
Sun blazed;
Crystal clear
Skies, sparkle
Diamonds of
True beauty bliss...
Jamaica Islands
Exports with "JAH LOVE",
NO DISCRIMINATION.
SO Break-Out the tanning-oil
and beach towel kick-off
your shoes, let your
Hair down N' hang- loose...
For awhile.
Take A swim to refresh
Your mind and feel relaxed
Sand tickling your toes.
Peacefully and Enjoy Life:
For "JAMAICA ISLANDS IS;
HERE TO STAY...." WE ARE
ALL ONE BIG FAM AT JAMAICA
ISLANDS!!!"
Written By:
SWEET N' SOUR= CARMA
06-24-12
A Tribute to a great poet n' writer:
RICHARD PALMER THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT
SOUP " FAM" TO THE END....
Entered in contest Letting your hair down
Sponsored by: Yasmin Khan
Ho! Ho! Ho! It's sure a tight squeeze.
I was able to go down the chimney with ease
and miss the bed of coals.
Mrs. Santa is right; I have to start the New Year with new goals.
Everyone must have just gone to bed because the cocoa is still hot.
Chocolate chip cookies and hot cocoa will really hit the spot.
Oh, yes sir can't hurt their feelings. I'll sit, and take of my boots and rest
by the stone hearth from the cold burr and hang loose before I head west.
A mouse came scavenging for a bite of the chocolate chip cookie,
took one look at me and climbed on my lap snuggling in beside me.
Before, the snow starts to stir and reindeer decide to leave me behind;
I'll leave their Christmas gifts under the tree since they were so kind.
Slip on my leather black coal boots trimmed in faux fur,
back on my sleigh full of gifts for the kids before I forget how many there were.
12/2/2017
COLOURFICATION
As the charcoal clouds coat the azure skies,
carnation cheeks duet with a sunny smile
greets, her vermilion lips luscious in lure
speaks. Her hour-glass shape molded sublime
to spring looking olive-coral printed dress. She
walking like a panther in ivory high heels.
Was that rose or jasmine scent I smell?
It tantalized my senses, I breathe, I see anew.
Her long straight hair sways as she moves.
Soft silver gems adorn her ears and neck
while a violet Hermes hang loose to her arm.
Her Aphrodite beauty shines, charms more.
Sting. Chilled by unknown void and emptiness,
suddenly my heart tedious throbbing beats
went still, frozen beneath amber eyes stare.
My fifty shades of authority slowly melting down
I, trying hard to control, coping to hide through.
Will my teasing taunts, flawless flaunting pumps,
thrall the innocence of the woman in-front of me?
_________________________________________________
Poetry Contest: United colours: Colourfication
***3rd Place***
Sponsored by: Silent One
10:38 am, March 17, 2016
"All a man really wants, is a girl who looks good in a bikini."
- Jack Freestone
Bikini Betty's Beef
A randy surfer from Malibu Crest
Untied the bikini top off of Celest
You’re my Betty let’s hang loose
As he tried for her caboose
Celest slapped his hand away from her breast
Aloha Barney, this isn't your turf
A lecher you are who can’t even surf
Damn men with no brains, think again
Bet you’ve never even hung ten
I’m not your Betty, uncool stupid Smurph
by I Am Anaya
As striking as a Malibu Barbie doll
Gals in bikinis I love, summer and fall
But I'm classy and kind
And so drawn to their mind
That they need not wear a bikini at all
by Robert Gorelick
Forget-Me-Not For Rico Leffanta
Poets love defines as does your photography
Screening feme fatal like it's a mammography
Blissful images erected
Virility unaffected
Observing what nature offers in demography
Hang loose Rico!
Mahalo
Let me rap to you about where I'm from.
Sidewalks are broken, weeds grow through the cracks.
The people that use them are like the sidewalks,
broken and bummed out.
They have handles like Turkey, Louie the Bum, Sand man.
No one's hip to their real names.
They all think they're righteous.
Me, they call me Kid, so don't be freaking out,
no one cares, it is what it is.
All we care about is the hustle.
The next minute, then the minute after.
So it goes.
This, is my school, I'm hip to it.
In these alleys, on these sidewalks,
where no one can tell if the garbage man came,
where rainbows are neon, books are painted words,
scrawled on concrete walls.
It's where you can get sliced for a joint,
and die for seeing what you shouldn't.
It's cool, don't sweat it.
It's another realm man, so don't flip your wig.
No manicured grass here, only advertisements for whiskey.
Are you hip to it, what I'm laying down.
Listen up my brother, cause I'll be bookin.
In this place, pain is a commodity,
sold by dealers and pimps.
Can you dig it.
I gotta split man, before the fuzz comes.
So hang loose, I gotta drop a dime,
to my connection.
Maybe I'll catch you on the flip side.
1960's slang
contest..Talk the Talk and Walk the Walk
"""""""""""'""""""""'
say what? gibberish jabber and jive
thrown off by that name design
i’ll pause for hee-larious devilish crime,
just this once, yo!
befriending puzzled game of who i am
roarrr! gotta hang loose and chillax...
click the clock and go with moment’s groove
if i hear some laughs, i’ll con you with slum stuff
for now, i ain’t your momma’s sweet thing
to give what’s due, let your green bucks talk
my tricky demons have been impatient,
now let that flat tire settle you.
this rhythm spins for bad, bad girl i’ve never been...
drums roll for a con girl… i’m ready for bullying
spinnin out scum and knowing i spit the shots
sleeky me, too not quick to catch
upside down and underground,
brace yourself or turn around. if you do please,
keep your smarts… street life is my major major punk
i’m callin last call, and all of you, hear this...
it’s time to bail out and bounce up,
live beyond lucid dreams and spark your plug
far beyond the images we see, there are split
mirror- dualities of what seem to be… see, i fancied
the title “Candle Net Out” also known as
nette on the clouds…too pretty and normal,
i’m experimental,
let me shock you from inside out…
just for today, it’s wickedly freaky showtime!
all rights reserved
©
*twisted because this was the teenage side of me
that wanted to rebel..but just did it half- way through!
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
PD's Any Twisted Poem
by: nette onclaud
The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part One
Lone gold Venus nears the sickle moon in the late autumn sky
She lies naked dreaming with one leg tucked under her thigh
The pallor of her silvery skin simmering with tide
A lone white swan trundles on one webbed foot heaving a sigh
Her tiara of amber and halogen loose by her side
The gold-braided brocade and studded raiments on one side
Gushing tresses hang loose by twinkling broaches on her back
Heady scents from pubic island and dark armpits fester inside
Wintry winds sweep through weeping willows tickling her fancy
Sway clumps of yarrow stalks huddling fearless coots in colony
She turns and heaves a sigh thinking of Old Khayyam’s ardour
Stars in his eyes and ruby red wine coursing through glory
Over the mobile hips and seductive slopes of her hills
Come calling Canada geese and wild duck in squawking trills
All messengers from Tundra’s ever clasping hoary past
Will she remember you O! Omar! when freezing water kills
The hoar frost wheezes under-foot along her silken robes
And the lone otter dares not venture out in his last throes
Even the sea gulls swoop no more for deep hugging blind fish
While she slumbers through blared Canada geese trumpeting oboes!
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
SWINE LOVE
Henry loved Penelope
it was him that she adored
but Henry grew quite restless
she could see that he was bored.
"Go take a break," she finally said
"this farm is long and wide
i know you've always dreamed to see
what's on the other side"
.
Henry 's first encounter
was Gabrielle the goose
"want to have some fun,"she asked
"go hog wild and hang loose?"
"I'm going on a flight," she said,
"come along and we'll glide high,"
"that won't work for me," said Henry,
"pigs dont know how to fly."
Daphne duck cruised on the water,
calling for Henry to come in,
"that wont work for me”, he snorted,
"pigs don’t like to swim."
Sadie the cranky pit bull,
liked to be alone
so Henry rightly decided
to leave her on her own.
The smart old owl flew overhead,
to put Henry back on track,
“Penelope needs you to come home
its time that you went back."
Henry agreed and knew the owl
was powerful and wise
for when he got back to Penelope
he was in for a huge surprise.
There were seven little piglets born
playing, having fun,
two daughters like Penelope
and five were Henry’s sons
.
Henry is at home to stay
he’s as happy as can be
doing whatever pigs do
with his barnyard family. P
Liz Reilly
Points Above and Below the Line
(Enea Canonises Catherine of Siena)
It's not a thing we go for any more,
that hierarchy malarkey, but in fact
the medieval mind set mega store
by stairs and ladders. All things interact,
and therefore can be neatly classified.
(There's endless fun in drawing up these lists!)
The lowest rung is "is", all pride aside:
a rock is "est", because it just exists.
Your jellyfish can breathe and reproduce,
so up we go: it wins a badge named "vivit".
An antelope can feel, get scared, hang loose,
so "sentit" is the title we can give it.
So living, then, is better than existing,
and feeling better still. Take Esther Blodgett.
She's capable of pouting, outing, twisting --
so humans come out tops again, with "cogit".
So all these so's, I hear you say: so what?
Well, what if humans almost reach "divine"?
Suppose there's something Esther Blodgett's got
that takes her over life's Dividing Line?
"Sublunary" means "underneath the moon".
"Diurnal" means "divided, night and day".
(Now, please don't chafe: the point is coming soon.)
Below the line means "subject to decay".
The moon was key for medieval man,
because it marked the mortal azimuth --
Above, eternal, there since time began:
below, corrupt, unwholesome, marked for death.
And now we come to Pius, making saints.
There's Catherine of Siena, looking flirty:
They must have used an awesome box of paints -
The chick had been a corpse since thirteen-thirty.
Above, the Pope, the Cardinals and Kate.
Below, the groundlings watching it go down.
Above, all spirit, high, inviolate:
below, all bulging groin and earthy brown.
If Kate was Sienese, that's nepotism?
Why ain't he canonizing Capistrano?
It's all to do with black and brown and schism.
Dominicans are gold, the others guano.
Franciscans are Heart,
Dominicans are Brain.
Franciscans use Love,
Dominicans use Pain.
Franciscans are Italy,
Dominicans are Spain.
If, as hippy folklore claims, it never rains in California,
Then the watermark is never washed out of the phoney cheque,
And when you’re dead and gone there’ll be no one here to mourn ya
For it was only God above urinating down your neck.
Carbon monoxide inhalation, it’s said, is pretty good for you,
So quit that forty a day habit, baby, move it with the flow;
Auto-suicide will wend its merry way and turn you blue,
So wrap your ruby red ones ‘round a tail pipe instead and blow.
Handprints down at Graumans, stoned celebrity status crested
Of the celluloid long-dead and the many who are soon to be;
My shopping list wants tummy-tucked, liposuction-sculpted, silicon breasted
Platinum blonde-haired bimbos who are certified free of H.I.V.
The boardwalk stretches like a sunshine catwalk by the sand and sea,
That roller babe looks good enough to eat, this must be heaven,
A junk food, high-cal sex blitz, glitzy steam hammer driven reality,
Her brain and heart aged sixty, yet her body twenty-seven.
Hang loose, chill out in air-conditioned stretch limo deep freezers,
It sure ain’t safe to mosey around alone, so don’t take chances;
And the infrared sun might fry your cheek to cancer and bejeezus,
Tough to keep your tongue in it, then, under the circumstances.
At night the stars reveal themselves, yet don’t look to the skies,
Dead super novas are never seen through pollution and stagnation,
Diaz, Hanks, Di-Caprio hold heaven’s wonder in cash cow eyes,
Down here that just about outshines every thing in God’s creation.
Multinational, mega-corporate, Hollywood moguls kick sorry ass,
Bedroom or boardroom these bondage freaks wield Olympian power,
Snorting lines of purest coke, feeding teenage pussy a champagne glass,
A minute on the screen, her life destroyed within an hour.
Gordon Gecko got it wrong, for greed is far from good you see,
Ray Chandler’s quip about this place a compliment and a half -
You know, the one where he gave this town a paper-cup personality -
Still you’ve gotta laugh, don’t you? Well, don’t you gotta laugh…?
Hang Loose
If hanging by a thread or hook
Covered in fur, denim, or rolled up white shirt
Tilt your head to the side and take another look.
Listen with ears free of wax, mites, and dirt
Color-blinded by hidden claws that can easily hurt.
Jenny Emelander 8/2/2011
“Today, we again failed to reproduce,”
said the gander to the goose.
“If we wanna keep up with the drake and the duck,
we gotta do more than ~ just depend on luck.
We gotta actually let something hang loose.”
Hold my hand and tie a noose
Close your eyes and let hang loose
Watch the world fall out of sight
And darling, hang with me tonight
they hang loose
body, in front of it's frame
assets
a liability in the making
fancied by men
for they are sure delight
they come in different
sizes and shapes
color
and texture too
some are muscular
others as soft as your jell-o
loosen out a bit
men's eyes will surely brighten up.
From Me:
This poem is not intended to offend anyone. Please make a comment if it's offending so I can delete it immediately. Thank you Soupers.