Best Low Cut Poems


Premium Member Jan Allison

I am from Great Britain  – it’s not a rumour
I always try to write with a sense of humour

In 1996 we moved to live in the Isle of Man
I can say with hand on heart that I’m Jan NOT Stan

Work with youngsters who have ‘special needs’
Very rewarding occupation  - but challenging indeed!

I am short in stature – guess I have low ‘elf esteem’
Tall greying men I adore – I love to see them in my dream

I love to eat plain chocolate – don’t need to watch my weight
I’m really quite petite – my hubby thinks I’m great

Met my husband Bob at Radio Lollipop
Both were volunteers – he loved my low cut top! 

Love to listen to music and go to hear a live band
Best gig ever was ‘Queen’ - the best band in the land

I have a wonderful son he is my pride and joy
He’s at university now – no longer my little boy

Started to write poetry when my husband got cancer
To get my thoughts on paper to me it was the answer

My friend Jenny Brewer introduced me to poetry soup
Took me a month to join but I’m so glad I joined this group

Wrote thirty poems with Darren as Jadazzle United
When Daz returns to good health I will be so delighted

I am happy when with friends but like my solitude too
Try to do my best in everything I do

The past 14 months have been so challenging for me
With writing I can escape and set my emotions free

Now my dad has passed and mum is in a care home
I am now ‘free’ and my self-confidence has grown

12th April 2015
Contest: Bio of a Poet Tammy Reams
~awarded 1st place~
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Walmart

I want to mingle
with the people of Walmart 
as they regally push 
their shopping carts
Eclectically dressed perfection
each a work of art
Camouflaged chic
or an old guy 
dressed like a tart
Back and forth my eyes dart
Over there
a sequinned heart
and here 
a bedazzled jacket
that looks real smart

Some saunter, 
some sashay
reaching into pockets 
and purses to pay
The happy faced discounts
make everyone’s day
Treasure troves in hand
life’s better than okay
See the flying nun 
with her habit hiding her gun
Today’s discounted ammo 
is tomorrow’s fun
As I watch her pay
I wonder if her beads and bullets
help her to pray

A coupon cowboy
basement bargain pleasure
a new pair of jeans
some pork and beans
for good measure
Get in, get out
no time for leisure
Here the world moves too fast
he don’t like the pressure 

Low cut tight tops
girls searching for cheap 
bargains galore
listen to the cash registers beep
I let the sights and sounds
into my brain seep
None of these people are sheep
humanity is well beyond skin deep
Lingering laughter later
might make it hard to sleep
Perhaps too much butt cleavage 
and beep bleep bleep!

Inspired by Kurt Ravinda’s poem “A Metophor” his is a brilliant piece.

Pantheress On the Prowl

Pantheress on the Prowl

She stalks her prey like a pantheress
on the prowl, confident and self-assured as
she glides into the room. She’s squeezed
into a low cut, body hugging, ruby
red satin wiggle dress, wearing silky black
stockings and patent leather stilettos, exuding unbridled
sensuality, the epitome of  sexuality and desirability…
she stalks her prey like a pantheress.



Note:  This poem was inspired by the Rock N’ Roll song, “"Maneater” by Hall and Oates released in 1982.  


(Form – Enjambment posted as Verse – 8 lines with 7 words in each line.
The 1st line and the 8th line are the same)

12-04-2014
Form: Verse


Premium Member Lost In You

Lying in the emerald grass,
I gaze upon you,
transfixed in the moment, your beauty astounding.
I watch you breathe as my finger tips slowly trace
ribbons through the cerise highlights in your long saffron hair.
Gently I caress the contours of your closed eyes, then your cheeks.
Your lips curl in a subtle smile as I, oh so slowly, follow the curve of your neck
down the valley of your soft skin to your low cut tangerine dress.
With each lilac button that I release it falls away revealing your smooth ivory skin.
You gasp gently when a cool breeze tickles you and I watch in enraptured desire
as your bistre peaks rise firm above your bosom.
With the touch of a feather my fingers draw circles and figure eights around your navel.
Your body tenses, as goose bumps cover your skin, and your smile tightens.
I lean forward, your crimson lips beckoning.
The softness of your kiss presses against me and lingers for a long moment.
"I love you,"
I whisper and your beautiful eyes awake.
Titanium sparkles cast glitter in their deep sapphire pools and I fall,
lost forever,
into your bottomless loving abyss.



03/14/16

Premium Member I'M Just Proposin'

I’d been in a two-year relationship
He even got down on one knee and did propose
He’s still the only man ever to ever buy me a red rose
But his mother hated me I wasn’t the right one for her son
She put her oar in and caused trouble and soon the damage was done
We split – I couldn’t be bothered with men I didn’t want the hurt
I threw myself into charity work at the local hospital
Radio Lollipop is a hospital radio station especially for kids
I had my own radio show – something I would love to do again
Bob was an engineer and built studios  - we became friends
One Saturday we were decorating a float for the Lord Mayor’s procession
I was wearing a tight low cut bright pink T shirt…how could he not notice me!
Started dating in June, just before Christmas we got the flu
We looked after each other at his house ...I never moved out
On Valentines Day 1989 I proposed to him – even though it wasn’t a leap year
I’d got up to get ready for work – he was still in bed.
I knelt down by the bed and asked him to marry me… he said yes! PHEW
We married two years to our very first date
Twenty-three years later we are still going strong


Jan Allison
21st September 2014
Contest:Will You Marry Me?
Sponsor Judy Konos
~awarded 1st place~
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Where Were You In the Seventies

WHERE WERE YOU IN THE SEVENTIES

i was between a tween and adult, in the house of the hudson valley,
and music was my main man,

i would hear whispered in my ear
me and mrs. jones...we got a thing goin’ on

and i would rock to sleep
don’t rock the boat...don’t knock the boat over

dress in a low cut purple dress, and look for mr. goodbar
or what i meant to say mr. travolta

in the dizzying display of disco, having a ball.
really i was just a shy nerd in a dress

you say i was a dancing queen...only seventeen...oh yeah
and i did have saturday night fever

and with the death of several classmates, not in shootings, but illness
and the usual car accidents...radio groans all we are is dust in the wind

after heartbreak of loss via death and puppy love
i did not sign the loan to return to college, went on to,

as i used to say “swab the seven corners of the room”
as the village people and my dad directed me to

in the navy...you will sail the seven seas...in the navy…
you will put your life at ease...bootcamp saw the end of 1979

2/27/2018
Line Gauthier’s Poetry Contest

*Lyrics may be slightly changed

Me and Mrs. Jones by Billy Paul
Rock The Boat by The Hues Corporation
Movie: Looking For Mr. Goodbar
Dancing Queen by Abba
Movie: Saturday Night Fever
Dust in the Wind by Kansas
Puppy Love by Donny Osmond (still swooning over
this song from the sixties)
In The Navy by Village People
Form: Bio


Her Blue Dress

**Acrostic**

**Her Blue Dress**

Hemp necklace with an ivory stone, hoop
Earrings and exquisite body tone!
Remarkable, I have her all alone! 

Blessed, she wears that blue dress
Low cut, she struts with such finesse.
Under a spell my hands caress
Every contour, a gift I must address!

Designer boots display her thighs, 
Red hair cut short and her chameleon eyes. 
Expressive, nothing left to imagination,
Smitten, areolas stiffen and I improvise. This 
Sultry vixens intentions undisguised!

Jared Pickett
7/5/2014
Asavvy1
Form: Acrostic

Premium Member Anniversary

Waiting for him to come home in my sexy low cut short black dress  
To tangle my fingers around his curly blond hair
 Kiss those soft lips the flame of my desire
Start a fire we cannot put out

Tonight marks our one-year wedding anniversary living and loving in paradise
 I've prepared a candlelight dinner for two
 Persimmon and Pomegranate salad
Quail in rose petals sauce
 Couscous, with sultanas and pistachio 
 Garnished the plates with rose buds to set the mood
With a glass of fruity Pinot Noir red wine to warm and intoxicate the night
 For dessert a wonderful strawberries and blueberries vanilla cream pie 
To play and tease letting lips meet and kiss starting a flame of desire
Served out on the veranda under the romantic soft glow of the entertaining moon light and
A million stars with soft music and sweet fragrance of lavender wisteria as it perfumes the garden

I patiently wait for him at the door 
 Take his things and bathe myself in his hug and kiss placing my head against his chest and whisper 
 Happy Anniversary
Touching my soul memories being made binding our love with strawberries and wine

10/15/2015
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.

Green Chapter Two

A short while later the most attractive man 
she had ever seen entered
the bank.  Lost in his good looks Kenya 
had to find the words "May I help
you?"  He introduced himself.  " Yes my 
name is Malik Maxwell Williams.
I would like to open an account".  "Mr.
Williams please follow me to my
office".  Malik was in Kenya's office for 
twenty minutes before making his
departure.  Kenya made it up in her mind 
that she would get to know Malik 
on a personal level.  Kenya lived a rather 
dull life unto the point she decided 
to get involved with Malik.  Kenya was a 
plain looking black woman in her 
30's who never had any real luck with 
men.  The next day was Saturday so
it was Kenya's day off.  She spent most of 
her time paying bills and shopping.
She pulled into the Emerald Lady 
parking lot got out 
of her 2003
BMW and went inside.  Looking for 
something to make Malik notice her.
Kenya picked out a low cut v-neck red 
top, a short black skirt that flattered
her figure, and black knee high boots.  
Kenya paid $236 for the attention of a 
man.
I must be crazy thought Kenya as she 
handed the cashier the money.  Walking
back through the Emerald Lady parking lot 
Kenya bumped into Nubia her one and only
friend.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka Red
Seven aka The Green Poet
aka The Brown Philosopher
Form: Narrative

Date At Chipotle

Under harsh bright lights the Aluminum table tops gleam

In lieu of good conversation
He has allowed designer stubble
Bought a new green cap at
Abercrombie

In lieu of good conversation
She wears a low cut dress
Presses breasts to the table
Carries a faux smile

Fascinated by
The grilled chicken pieces on their plates
They study them closely,
Deeply.

Milind Padki
Form: Verse

Premium Member Colourfication

Darling girl, you are so tempting,
In your low cut, sapphire gown.
Ruby lips make my own pucker.
Stopped by your mothers ashy frown.

Your violet eyes, fringed by jet lashes,
Pause to gaze at me and linger.
I almost voice my hunger
To place gold upon your finger.

I envy tangerine you're tasting,
As juice dribbles on your pearls.
My heart dances a fandango
As in vested chest it whirls.

Braving the wrath of your stern mother,
Regal in her olive dress,
My love is stronger than my fear, Dear,
I'm praying that our love she'll bless.

Written: 3/10/16

Colors: sapphire, ruby, ashy, violet, jet, gold, tangerine, pearls, fandango, olive

Before It's Too Late

Before it’s too late

Distant bells clatter on cloud fed weathered skies where
darkness creeps past low light vestibules, faded beams flicker 
Short skirts wave in a winter wind, breezy attributes
revealing fishnet thighs calling to the next hidden passenger,
batting lashes and blowing bubbles of stale gum placed under
crushed velvet seats worn in places, stained deliberately
for bragging rights and handkerchief blotting

A ghostly mist lingers as lips are touched up, bright red, crimson,
shades of desire, occupational decisions, advertisements leaking
into sewers and hopscotch squares spread along the avenue
Silhouettes in porch lanterns, whistling…so unladylike, ducking
constables with nightsticks swinging like the clapper in those damn bells
waking the unsuspecting and spooking the transients offering
a few coins for a ten dollar dream

Swine wallows in last week’s gossip, slimy little beings
fat on sausage and biscuits, cursing the rats pushing their way in
below curtains and kitchen windows framing inquisitive eyes, 
watching cash change hands and satisfied smirks 
on the faces of those wiping feet on mats, 
greeting the family in disguise, shirt un-tucked,
long day rewards and dinner on the table

Yesterday’s newspaper tumbles down the walk, 
clinging to sign posts, featuring headlines of death, a warning in bold print,
still at large, a menace to society in a grey overcoat,
double breasted and fancy shoeprints in the fresh mud
No further traces except the body, contorted and frozen, smeared faces
littering cobblestone gutters, frightening children and pets, 
as passersby look to second floor balconies, oblivious   

Midnight calls, staggering drunkards exit Chauncey’s,
hard up and spent, slurred laughter, boisterous to hide worries 
and tomorrow’s jobs, time clock lies and penciled in wishes
Iron fence posts rust at the gateway as they glance to the headstones
of friends long past and recent memories, sensing the urge,
seeing the painted nails and low cut blouses, thinking…
before it’s too late  


While from a secluded archway…

Premium Member Fantasy Fuels the Flames (Co-Written With James Fraser)

Running her hand over her smooth, long leg
She sips red wine and tosses back her hair
The smokey air in the Main Street bar
Seems to lift when she sees him there
 
Across the room, a lady catches his eye
Dressed to impress -- for whom he wonders
Thoughts start to flow as he politely stares
In his mind he imagines sensual plunders
 
Rugged and handsome, he heads her way
An inviting smile lights up her face
She pats an empty stool, gives a sign
Hoping he'll find his way to this place
 
"Good evening to you, have we met before?"
As he runs his eyes down her curvaceous frame
My name is James, pleased to meet you
His heart on fire with his yearning flame
 
"You DO look familiar," she whispers
The fire in his eyes sets off a spark
"But I can only see your outline;
This room is hot and way too dark"
 
I don't mean to sound forward, let's vacate this bar
Let's take a walk, forget about this place
I have a flat round the corner, it's not very far
It's bright, warm and cozy; we will have our own space
 
Strolling through snowfall; he offers a coat 
Placing it over her low-cut sweater
Then leads her up a long flight of stairs
The door opens, "Ah, now that's much better!"
 
Please, make yourself at home, may i get you a drink
I'll turn the heat on, take the chill out of the air
He hands her a cocktail and she responds with a wink 
As he towels her wet shoulders and long blond hair
 
A night of passion; they intertwine
"I'm so glad you found me," she sighs
"Your timing, as always, was just right"
She adds as she shades morning sun from his eyes
 
He stirs and turns saying, "Mrs. Mayo, last night was bliss
You were sensuous and ripe, like the day we first loved
Your limpet like lips, seduced as we kissed
We caressed each other as if we were gloved"

"We MUST go on meeting like last night, Mr. Mayo,
To fan the flames in our decades-long marriage
You hold the key to my heart in your passion
And our fantasies lift us like a heaven-bound carriage"
Form: Narrative

The Green Silk Dress

The Green Silk Dress
Eons back in time, was a tall maiden fair
A long pair of legs and equally long blond hair.
A green silk dress, she once did espy
The colour would pick the green out in her eyes.

Daily she traveled to the emporium so grand,
She gazed in the window from where she did stand.
The dress was a symbol of all her wants and desires
The size correct, the colour perfection, her gaze did not tire

The bus journey she undertook to see this perfect creation
Desperate to try it on, but the thrill was the anticipation.
It called to her soul, day and night she shed tears
Because the dress she knew may only magnify her fears

The low cut neck, on the silk sleeveless floating gown
Would fit and cling, and make many turn around.
Eyes would follow, people would admire 
The tall blonde girl in green silk, would set many a man on fire.

The day came when she turned up to look,
The sale was made the receipt in the book.
The dress was now gone from the naked manikin 
Hers dreams were gone, though they did not begin…

No silk dress to bring out the colour in her eyes,
No clinging fabric her curves to emphasise.
With the loss of her dress her dream did die too
Returning home sadly, her countenance now blue.

With tears in her eyes, she had turned and left dazed
Never again would she stand there and lovingly gaze.
Life passed her by and her one funny regret
Was never to step though the door, and try in and yet…

It taught her a lesson she was ready to learn...
Regrets are plenty, when for something you yearn 
Sometimes one needs to step through that door
It may be the one thing you have been searching for...

It may have turned out that the dress did not fit,
The colour may not have suited, or it pinched a little bit.
But one thing for sure she will now never  know
Because she did not have the courage-to give it a go…
© 7/10/2012

Drifting Into El Rojos Cantina

He drifts into town on his 
faithful quarter horse called Moose 
who has a three-legged gait 
which gives him saddle sores 
when riding miles from place to place. 

A desert wind storm hits them hard,
he pulls his cowboy hat down his face 
so the sand won't sting his deep-set brown eyes,
he sees a faded sign in red lettering advertising 
" EL ROJOS CANTINA "  as it bangs against 
the cracked adobe and tiled-roofed building. 

A pretty senorita dressed in a ruby-red dress 
greets the unshaven drifter as he stumbles 
through the double-saloon doors,
the cantina is dark and dank with smells of 
stale cigarette smoke and cheap whiskey,
hunger and thirst overwhelm him in that 
he ignores the stench of the bar and eatery. 

The brazen and sultry woman sits at his 
table and begins to sing in a husky voice 
while a man with a guitar accompanies her, 
male patrons smile at her flamboyant low-cut 
dress as she begins singing in a seductive mood:

Stranger you are handsome to look at 
as I stare at you and purr like a cat, 
let's get together and see 
if something develops between you and me, 
my name is Ventura, a lucky charm, 
I want to be your woman and mean no harm, 
please take me away from this place, 
so I will not die here in disgrace. 

It didn't take much convincing, 
Ventura and the drifter rode off together 
into the red sunset after the sand storm 
on a long and bumpy ride on Moose with 
his three-legged gait while the senorita 
hung onto her billowing dress which 
blew over her face. 

Years passed and Ventura lying down and close to death, 
confesses she loved a man named Hildago who left her 
at the altar and filled her with humiliation before 
family and friends until a drifter swept in and  saved 
her from mortification and disgrace, 
her man of many years weeps for the woman who was 
his lucky charm wearing a red dress whom he met at 
El Rojos Cantina during a tumultuous desert storm. 


August 8, 2016

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