Best Manikin Poems
Long deceased actors
‘play-acting
On an unobserved TV
set
blaring from a
vacant living room.
In the kitchen a
widower
tends eggs
splattering in a
pan.
Then came a loud
interjection
from the room
beyond, “Hey,
Stella!!”
sending through him
a trembling pall
memories of his wife
Stella
who had died many
years ago
and never gotten
over it.
Still as a
storefront manikin
till the last memory
faded
he realized what
taken place:
the son-of-a-*itch
burnt his eggs!
Ding! Ding! I
tricked you didn’t
I?
Categories:
manikin, word play,
Form:
Verse
WRAPPING IT IN PURPLE
-For Prince
Black onyx handsome,
Small is beautiful,
Soft campy creature,
Definite in feature,
All chiseled, boned,
Talents honed,
And used for a king's ransom.
A royal purple mist,
Rained down on fans.
A thousand in the cast,
(He's never going to last).
Sing, Hip hop, do yer dance,
It's really yer last chance;
And maybe you'll be missed.
Let's do! Let's go crazy!
Count sheep, fall asleep,
Red flag, Swag dance, Sweet feet!
Tap it, Rap it, on a side street.
Keepers, weepers, of the dark,
One chance to make yer mark.
Sigh or sing, no time to be lazy!
Speed of light, day or night,
You know time can't be defined.
Check it off, count loves,
Hope you hear the cry of doves.
Yer wanting all yer extra time,
Kiss it in yer billboard climb;
A nanosecond dove in flight.
Burning up your axe,
Ending up an icon,
Pay your ticket, seeum,
In Hollywood's museum.
Paisley is the handle,
Stiff, dripping like a candle,
Just a manikin in wax.
No birthday's, no gray, or wrinkle.
In purple paper, wrap a lost chord!
You float above a cherry moon,
Wing it, sing it, it's your last tune.
Spirit vaporized, name that's canonized,
And all your data to be analyzed.
Precious purple, a periwinkle sprinkle.
Always cry for love, never cry for pain;
Elevé, do rise, caught up, surprised!
Don't stare sleeping there,
Death upon the stair.
No liquor, no last flicker,
No barcode, no heart quicker,
An April snow has left you sleeping in the rain.
By Edlynn Nau
© April 23, 2016
Categories:
manikin, loss, purple, rap, star,
Form:
Elegy
A Jim-Jam Mickey-Mouse Poem
I think that you might never see
A poem as weird as this might be
For I’ll use luscious words
That otherwise might sound absurd
This poem may turn out silly-sally
Or even a bit dillydally
In hindsight this whole kit and caboodle
May come across as dipsy-doodle
I’ll find a rhyme for titillated
That’s quintessentially outdated
I might include a foxy lady
But not written like my friend Slim Shady
So there won’t be some randy blowhard
Gender-bender sleaze-ball retard
No hooligan with gizmo manikin
No easy rider glissade shenanigan
No penny pincher prude nitpicker
And of course no cowboy old ****-kicker
And I would be recalcitrant
If I were to use this poem to rant
Though I know at times I vacillate
I shan’t lambaste this tete-a-tete
I haven’t worked in balderdash
Bloke or codger or mish-mash
No Tallulah, no Colleen
No rambunctious Charlie Sheen
And there’s no dubious diddlysquat
But that’s abso-bloody–lutely all I’ve got
Mdailey 3/30/12
Categories:
manikin, on writing and words,
Form:
Rhyme
My friends and I had midnight hide and seek
One had to stand by a tree and not peek
In my state of hiding great I was hard to find
My friends decided to just be unkind
They all got together and decided to hunt me down
I first hid in the river near my house and almost drown
When they walk close by me I silently move through the grass
It was very hard to see, but I crawled a long time and almost ran out of gas
Then I heard one say that they were going up and wait by the tree
I had an idea that made a way to make them see
A shadow that ran in the distance thinking that would be
I had my horse pull a little manikin to make them think it was me
My friends took their flashlight and shined it toward it
I thought I had them but one thing was clear they did not fall for it not a bit
They all laugh and started to call out my name
They all asked how the heck did you have time to pull that trick that was so lame
I did not answer so they kept on looking for me, but I was so quick
Some of my friends started to get really mad and tick
I was a master of doing weird things they all knew what I can do
The night was still young and the grass was collecting dew
I decided to make a distraction once again
To think of it, it would probably make the night end
My friends finally surrounded my tree house
I was quiet, so quiet, more than a mouse
I had some rope in the tree house to make my escape
To distract them I made a loud noise like an ape
The tree that my tree house was in was at least forty feet up
I had some stash in my tree house a drink or two in a cup
My final hour is about to end I did not want my friends to catch me till I got to the tree
I took the rope and tide it on a branch and pushed off and that was the key
I landed on the garage roof and sneaked my way to the tree
My friends knew me to well that they plan things before I could see
They had a fish net ready for me to step into
I thought that was kinda wise and some what like pew
The few feet by the tree there was two of my friends that was ready
Up in the tree they both jumped down and pulled me up in the net fast and steady
They thought they had won, the person had to tag me before I touch tree
She ended up having to get something to stand on to reach me
I swung my weight back and forth till I ended up touching and the game ended
My friends and I were so full of surprises and that is what the game handed
Categories:
manikin, adventure, child, childhood, courage,
Form:
Narrative
Waiting. The minutes groan arduously.
Somehow, perhaps – my heart fails to beat
with the rush of your momentary attention.
Perched precariously on spikes
Flesh colored, yet artificial –
Manikin fingers, fidgeting.
Mournfully drenched in factious apology.
Our eyes meet briefly, then dart with bashfulness,
Choreographed precisely.
Words uttered repetitively from wine stained lips
Fill the tortuous silence – hesitantly.
Your hollow ghost memory, porous and unsubstantial.
'We can work at this, ' you finally choke
An unfamiliar innocence, grasping -
Your voice childlike in its simplicity.
And for a second, I recognized that old stranger.
I muster a skeptical nod – and smile limply, dismissively
Fingering the rim of my glass.
'And deceive ourselves with promises made before?'
I winced with audacity – impatient of your feeling,
As the words ripped your heart out clean.
You clear your throat in an effort to speak -
Those words never did surface...
My acid tongue, an all too familiar indulgence.
I raise hesitantly, your gaze fixated as I shrink.
A tormenting embrace, clothing saturated in your scent
Sodden with tears unshed.
Humoring your touch with finality –
An unspoken understanding sneered behind the mask.
Face taunt with incomprehension, as sorrow squeezed out the substance.
I avoid the depths of my black dying heart, defiantly.
Anemic with reluctance – I usher the door
A smiling parody of phantom reminisce -
Poisonous and seductive.
An enormous tear got away,
As you lay fragile and broken – bereft.
I’m sorry.
Categories:
manikin, girlfriend-boyfriend, life, loss, lost
Form:
Free verse
I cant seem to find the happy
antedote to cool my negative
consequences--- malignant non standards
freud pennance desires to capitulate-re
the never know mores so the forni fun reins can be
pulled taughtly somewhere
inside lives a man who cares----simple
kind to all--pleasures akin to
mellow moon moments--get the
fish jist--uncomplicated---neurogladiolas
with leafs outstretched to catch
the morns love rays---fully watered
premise to a concubine wife unopposed
like all fetters released free to
abound under alcohol laden pods
in a swaying sequence water ballet peaceful in its
aloneness yet always ever seeking the never
true part ne'r so patiently ignoring---
Cancer quest staring you in the face
but cant be seen---know knows no
knowns eyes closed bloodshot--wishing
hard to overwhelmed joy visions of what could be--I know theres a palace in me that gushes being is a river raft of giving
tides unabated for the abandon quits warm of function
but in pure feet sense cant save
to swim in the same antidirection plan for a
single sec hard to find 30 days notice
self eviction would help but then whered i be
in the tunnel of soothing nonfixtures
riding on nosense syllables that
now sag to be a faraway foreign language
my own fault alcohol only a seed cloud
the deeper I think the more dense I look
in the wrong semidirection too quiet and
yet unyielding to promote a sick sense of
perserverance uncompounded like a gemstone past
its prime on the open market a bill past due
repossessed
folded catalogued drawn drawered in a
tightshell outcast lowbrow miniscule
catapult nurtured nonethe selfless retro
inconvenience breech birth brain divided
gray tipped shark heart profiled in opposite filling manikin lifestyles
Categories:
manikin, angst, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
So many manikins
In the store windows
Dressed in fashion clothes
What does happen at night?
When no one is around?
I ponder this question
Do they come to life?
Walking on the floors?
Having a chit-chat
Or walk on the floors
When I am in the mall
I do ponder this scene
Categories:
manikin, imagery,
Form:
Imagism
Like an intimate massage,
our lips embrace in a kiss.
And in that perfect moment,
two hearts experience bliss.
Love grows exponentially,
getting stronger with each day.
For once rooted in my soul,
nothing can take it away.
At the birth of our daughter,
my heart nearly burst with pride.
For your tears of happiness
touched me, and I cried inside.
A broken remnant of war,
I'm more manikin than man.
But love rallies around me,
and I do the best I can.
Behind a bastion of hope,
my spirit's undefeated.
And yet, deep in my being,
I can't help but feel cheated.
(Quatrain)
11/12/2015
Categories:
manikin, destiny, emotions, feelings, love,
Form:
Quatrain
**~~**
She seemed to be like a delicate portrait
which had fallen from its gilded frame
Abandoned, lying face down on the cold winter floor
An elegant portrait once painted
In resplendent hues of indigo blue
Her eyes told a story of bittersweet
magenta colored sorrows bathed in tears
that etched themselves throughout
The frail intricately, woven canvas of her soul
Over time thoughtless hands had subtly
Contrived to manipulate the beauty
Of her painted portrait into a resemblance
Likened to that of a cold, chiseled statue
Carelessly molded by calloused fingers
Lancinating the fragile fragments
Of her spirit leaving her heart
With etiolated worn fabric - called her life
She dreamed of Icarus soaring down
on silvery wings of steel shrouded
in cobalt and lavender clouds
with outstretched, feathery fingers
lifting her up to dance a Stravinsky ballet
As it was meant to be - not how it was
She was a beautiful, fragile butterfly
bruised by a world much too harsh
for her diminished spirit
leaving her unable to fly away
from the skis thirsty rains
making it difficult for her to fly away
from the skis thirsty rains
It left her struggling to stay afloat
In the springs melting snow
Life had bruised her tender skin
Gnawing away like insatiable insects
On her delicate pink frescoed soul
Leaving her feeling
Like a fabricated manikin on display
For all to pose her as they may
Muddied soil was the blood that coursed
through her veins, holding her tethered heart
in fleshy, mounds of chocolate brown earth
It held her helpless in its hold
clogged by the silt which descended down
Into spaces of her soul…
Like murky strings of yellow tattered maize
Leaving their ragged tassels tangled
Throughout her life flowing veins
Choking off the blood she needed
To nourish her hungry heart
Mighty winds toppled her willowy limber tree
Snapping the delicate boughs
Of her outstretched arms
As they pulled at the tender fleshy bark of her skin
She stood cold and alone
In the icy winter night wrapped
Only in her wounded, naked flesh
With open, bleeding wounds
Under the icy blue mist of the winter moon
Her heart and soul painfully revealed...
In shades of indigo blue
**~~**
Categories:
manikin, allegory, angst, loss, sad,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
She seemed to be like a portrait...
which had fallen from its gilded frame
Abandoned...
Lying face down on the empty, cold wintry floor.
An elegantly created portrait once painted in striking hues of indigo blue.
Her eyes told a story of bittersweet, magenta colored sorrows
That etched themselves throughout the frail, intricately woven canvas of her soul
Over time...
Thoughtless hands subtly contrived and manipulated the beauty of her painted portrait Into a resemblance - likened to that of a cold chiseled statue
Calloused, careless fingers molded her - lancinating the fragile fragments of her spirit
Leaving her heart with the etoliated, worn material - called her life
She dreamed of Icarus - soaring down on steel wings
Shrouded in cobalt, magenta clouds- with outstretched, feathery fingers...
Lifting her up to dance with him in a Stravinsky ballet...
As it is was meant to be
Not how it was
She was a beautiful, delicate butterfly...
Bruised by many shadows in her world
Leaving her unable to fly away from its thirsting arid rain filled skies
It left her struggling to stay afloat in the spring's melting snow
Life had bruised her tender skin...
Gnawing away like insatiable insects on her delicate pink frescoed soul
Leaving her feeling like a fabricated, plastic manikin on display...
For all to pose her as they selfishly may
Muddied soil was the blood that coursed through her veins
Holding her tethered heart in fleshy, lumpy mounds of dark, chocolate brown earth
It held her helplessly clogged in the dirt...
That descended down in the empty spaces of her soul...
Like the muddied strings of yellow, tattered maize
That entwined their ragged tassels through her life flowing veins...
Choking off the blood she needed to nourish her weakened, hungry heart
Mighty winds toppled her willowy, limber tree...
Snapping the delicate boughs of her arms
As it pulled at the fleshy bark of her skin
She stood cold and alone in the cold wintry night...
Wrapped only in her naked flesh - with open, bleeding indigo wounds
Standing under the icy, mist of the cold, winter moon...
Her heart and soul painfully revealed - in shades of indigo blue
LadeeAnne~C@2011
Anne P Murray
Categories:
manikin, life, loss, mystery, heart,
Form:
Prose Poetry
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
Categories:
manikin, growing up, day, green,
Form:
Light Verse
A Moon Manikin
A moon manikin;
Yellow and round as ever
And I so clever.
Ho, ho.
In reference to Moon over Poet Destroyer,
not Miami.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Categories:
manikin, humorous,
Form:
Haiku
after the dance we opened the doors
dampness surrounded this place maroon drapes
paisley patterns blinded my emotions license plates
of james dean covered the pine paneling only in the back
funny how a pair of levi's could bring about
such lonliness but there was james standing there
leaning up against his motorcycle flickering that cigarette
i had dreamed of life away from a smoked filled room
however i was being forced fed macho manner
by mere bruts tyrants wearing tightly fitted pinky rings
shuffling their feet quickly my only thought was that of
the stingrays sharp shooters how their eyes are morbidly
unseen right before they strike their prey i wouldn't even
speak of away from tropical shirts and the pelicans beak
an yet after the dance we had entered this think tank
of sea urchants mere leaches all reaching for small time
scores the same old crabs in the same old bucket
one by one pulling the one closet to the top back down
to scurry sideways with the bottom feeders night crawlers
here i am again your place their place our place i wondered
if they noticed me at all or was i just a cold curvy bottle
of coke a cola to be placed on a red and white canvas
in front of knitted covered candles or was i just a manikin
leaning against that timeless old seeburg continuing to drag
the needle slowly across the nylon fibers of my favorite record
over and over again like filing my broken nail or fussing over
another run in my stocking who needs stocking why i was simply
this forgotten mermaid among a school of green eyed hungry sharks
but then there was james a mere mirage gazing down route 66 in land
catering to the backside of those levi's oh wait here he comes again
he's going to ask me to dance what will i say oh my feet hurt or just
say no shoes tonight shall we swim out of here my mind tossed to and froe
i just couldn't bare to waste a perfectly good pair of fins don't you know
Categories:
manikin, fishing,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
As you hug my thighs
I fantasize
About the time we first met
You were on a manikin, strutting your stuff
Making me want you more
Dreaming about the day we'd soar
High and about into the nights sky
Glowing in the clouds as I bungee jump from the airplane
We'd be together, forever
As you hug my thighs
I fantasize
About how things used to be
You were shining in the sun
Glowing in the moonlight
There were no holes or patches
Bruises or scratches
You were new
Categories:
manikin, fantasy,
Form:
Eyes pierce;
words penetrate;
countenance corrodes…
pity those tough hearts
of rough masculinity
genuflecting
tender muliebrity.
Just think of poor God
…He dares once in a while
out of Maya-muffle
to eavesdrop His devotees’ troubles.
Got encapsulated in Her
enchanting shell, spell
…the God became a helpless manikin
caught within Her tall
woo-prison walls.
What to say
of frail mortal man;
truly gullible
to sirens’ smirks,
swings, snits and whiffs!
O’ man, O’ man…always gets tangled, wangled
and ‘woman’gled
like a fish in an angler’s net.
Categories:
manikin, allegory, imagination, love, mystery,
Form:
Free verse