Best Saggy Poems
Your ass is slightly enlarged
Your hips are somewhat wide
You have wrinkles all over your thighs
You eyes they droop
Crows feet shoot me dead
With your dreary eye stare
The world sees ugly, over due and despair
Your chest is a scar
Red and ripe, disfigured and bare
Your time is up
Old maiden of the past
Your saggy story makes you a sad lass
However not all is as it seems
Those passerby’s who seek no depth
They know not the secrets of innocent youth
They drink not from the water of the wise well
I see you, so clear I cry
Your smile, your laughter and you wonder why?
I have fallen for you, faults and all
For me it’s your beauty that stands so tall
You are a painting on a museum wall
Desired, your smile for sure does enthrall
Your voice sings to the heavens above
Your touch upon my heart melts my cold dark wounds
The lines I see upon your face
Each a sign of wisdom and grace
May I kiss that scar upon your chest?
May I confess you that scare is the door to your desires
A place I dreamed to live from the start
Let me dance, let me sing
You are my beauty, so let me in
Love letters flow, like grapes to wine
Silently we sway to and fro, passing time
In my veins you flow, you can not run away
Needless dances of insecure thoughts
If only, if only I could have this last Serenade
Categories:
saggy, angel, beauty, love, poets,
Form:
Free verse
There’s a thing called Corona that’s going around,
and the yakety-yak of it’s bringing folks down,
for it’s not like some circus that’s coming to town!
If you turn on your telly, you’ll probably hear
lots of news shows predicting this virus is near,
and the airports stand empty from everyone’s fear.
Just a week ago one of my friends only paid
twenty dollars for a standard flight that he made.
I say THAT’S taking lemons to make lemonade!
I'd say hop on a plane for perhaps a low fee;
now however, that's nixed by new rules that I see.
Just take walks with your dog or stay in for your safety
Perhaps you'll go out. Put a mask on your face!
and a handiwipe's great so that you can erase
pesky germs that are lurking in every space.
While your neighbors are running like crazy to buy
extra paper for wiping their precious behinds,
go to Amazon. There a bidet you can find!
Everything is now closed. If it's not far away,
pay a visit to Mom (if allowed). and l say
try to think of your lockdown as some fun "stay-cay!"
Whatever you do, please stop buying Purell.
Leave that stuff for the folks who are truly unwell,
and please leave on the shelves toilet paper for sale!
Yes, a person could die, but folks die from the flu!
Just eat healthy, be cautious; that’s all you can do.
It is not the Black Plague that is coming for you!
Odds of dying from it - I believe - aren't THAT bad.
Many many events are now cancelled; it’s sad.
But have faith it will pass, like the Saggy Pants fad!
March 13, 2020
For Nina Parmenter's A Rattling Rhyme 2 Poetry Contest
Re-entering contest because in light of new information I have learned since writing this poem, I felt the need to make major changes to some of my lines.
Categories:
saggy, sick,
Form:
Rhyme
Suddenly
when melancholy arrived,
she engraved the words 'sad'
deep into my manic mind.
Then abandoned me in
a pit of sinister silence.
Who turned out the lights
inside the moon?
Now the horizon looks like tar
and the voices become louder.
Every morning is a miserable melody
in this malady of heavy sighs.
I strum the invisible strings
of my mourning mandolin,
but they keep on weeping
in a chilling refrain,
as each note cuts deeper.
Now my bed is like a crimson river,
soaking in stains of regret,
as daggers of stubbornness,
stab like unspoken words.
These tears taste so acidic.
Eyes feel saggy with dark circles,
like droopy, decaying flowers and
I don't know if I'm tired
or aging too quickly,
so they remain closed.
Time ticks too slowly,
as I remain in stillness,
with a hollow cocoon heart.
Its shell full of cracks,
waiting for happiness to
knock on the door.
Categories:
saggy, angst, depression, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
The years have flown by,
Without me realising of all
That I have been missing out in our world
The years, with the speed of light,
Have brought me to stop wanting
To glance into my mirror,
Unable to bear the sight of my wrinkles
My saggy skin and my balding head!
Now, my bones have become weak
And they can crash at any moment
My organs function on some days,
On some others, I require hospitalization
Making it all seem like
My body itself is rejecting life
While this world itself
Is rejecting my body!
Yet, my worn out eyes are sparkling,
Full of expectation for that which is to come;
Yes, though I missed out on some mundane pleasures,
I watered my spiritual well with clean and pure knowledge,
Sought out from religious books and enlightened men
So much that now
I am so eager to meet with that which has been promised
By those sayers of sooth,
From the celestial beings to the unconceivable God!
And when I look back at the life I lived,
I breathe with silent relief at the fact that
I lived according to my own will and to my own choices
Even if these corroborated not with those who surrounded me
I did what I wanted, indulged in what I loved, stayed away
From that which made me uncomfortable, and imprinted
My journey here through thousands of poems,
Set to be deciphered if the world would want to understand
My meaning!
I have come of age,
And knocking on the door is none else
Other than Death
For whom I am preparing to hold
A welcoming party!
Categories:
saggy, age, health,
Form:
Free verse
The thing about a scarf is that
I know just how to buy one
But I don’t do it often ‘cause
I’m clueless how to tie one.
My friends look chic and classy
With a scarf around their throats.
For hiding saggy skin like mine
That style gets all my votes.
A neck stays warm when breezes blow
If it is scarf-protected
And sometimes boring outfits,
With a scarf, can be corrected.
Yet somehow I have never learned
The skills that are required
To knot a scarf so that my neck’s
A place to be admired.
We’re either born with savoir-faire
And everyone can spot
That stylishness so cool and hip
Or else, like me, we’re not.
Categories:
saggy, clothes,
Form:
Rhyme
Some people are bored.
I am not.
Some people live the same day every day.
I don’t.
Some people never change their opinions.
I do.
Some people have not picked up a book since high school or college.
I am not one of those.
Some people do not believe in life-long learning.
I do.
Some people like to clean.
I don’t.
Some people stay with one political party or one religion because it was their parents’.
Laugh.
Some people are garage-door opener sellers because their mom was a garage-door opener seller.
Really?
Some people never find out that they are a cartoonist, a poet, a painter, a gardener.
I did.
Some people live the same day every day.
Exactly as their parents did.
Other people live a fresh new day, every day.
The bound out of bed, delighted to be wearing mismatched socks, both fluffy of course.
They pop into their stretch pants, and their saggy, baggy, comfy, sixteen-year-old favorite Mickey Mouse sweatshirt and they head for their art studio.
Or they run to their office and plunk themselves down with a coffee or a tea and a piece of pie or something equally delectable, and they begin to write or draw or throw glitter in the air.
Guess which one I am?
Categories:
saggy, introspection, life, love,
Form:
Free verse
Let me tell about a snowman, Ole Frosty
He needs a facelift that's way too costly
Coal eyes are covered by saggy eyelids
And a dimple chin reaches his forbids
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Contest: Four-liner: Clerihew
Written: December 08, 2014
Categories:
saggy, funny,
Form:
Clerihew
Just a saggy-sad dumbfounded Basset Hound
Got claimed at the doggone-it lost puppy pound
Just hangin' out now and nosing around
Waiting for my supper to get back from town
Hooray! A dog's life for an ole' English lass
Can't hear very good, my rep's rather jaded
Sprawl out by a tree where it's cooler and shaded
Spread eagle, ya' know? Who cares, I been spaded
(I just rolled in something bio-degraded)
Ah so! A dog's life for an ole' English lass
My pack leaders walk on their hind-quarter parts
Go figure how they mastered THAT get-around art
I tried it once ( No it weren't very smart)
Threw out my back, God bless my British heart
Sacre bleu! A dog's life for an ole' English lass
Ah ha! Do I hear the purring of a car?
Door slamming, uh-oh, this is rather bizarre
The big one is carrying that smelly little bar!
C'est la...Wait! That's French (What a POODLE I are)
Blimey! A dog's life for an ole' English Lass
7/6/2012
For Tanya Harrington's "Dog Gone Tales" contest
Categories:
saggy, pets, life, life,
Form:
Monorhyme
He oozed charm, this aging lothario.
Gallantry was his middle name.
Yet, he lived in the past
in the glory days of football wins
and cheerleaders…
denying his saggy abdomen
blind eye, and fungus crusted feet…
Gallantry was his middle name
and he wheedled his way into the affections
of many lost and lonely woman.
When the only women
of true importance in his life
were his daughters…
He lived in the past
slept with his dog, and swam in Speedos
bald pate shining in the sun.
Once, long ago he was married to a cheerleader.
She’s stopped cheering, as his life filled
with their daughter and she was no longer his girl.
Caught between life, death,
and the deep blue sea, he swam.
Arriving at the home of each new prospective conquest
with the requisite flowers and small talk.
The glory days of football still danced
before his single good eye upon the giant bar screen,
where he served mimosa’s and other drinks with a wink.
He smiled with a well-worn charm, and didn’t touch the stuff.
Still, he tried. But, most times,
he felt more at home
with his daughters…
Categories:
saggy, caregiving, daughter, father, introspection,
Form:
Narrative
When my arms weren’t so long
Scruffy hairs on my ears
Puffy bags round my eyes
Saggy skin ‘neath my chin
And things close weren’t as clear
It was time for nose glasses
I was sad that nose glasses
Made my face look so long
And rubbed grooves on my ears
But I focused my eyes
As I looked past my chin
And saw things were more clear
When I needed things clear
I would lose my nose glasses
And my search took too long
For a rest on my ears
And the strain on my eyes
Put gray hairs on my chin
So I scratched my old chin
And thoughts came oh so clear
Of a pair of nose glasses
For each room wide or long
To perch high on my ears
And give aid to my eyes
Then I gazed with my eyes
As I wrinkled my chin
Loving faces so clear
Sights above my nose glasses
Lingered vivid and long
Speaking youth to my ears
Those sweet sounds to my ears
Caused a dance with my eyes
Smiled and dimpled my chin
Resonating so clear
Little ones and nose glasses
Bringing closeness along
Be my sight short or long
I’ll need help for these eyes
To see life bright and clear
Categories:
saggy, age, children, love,
Form:
Sestina
It happened many years ago, just after World War ll.
When I was just a little girl with lots to see and do.
A visit to my cousin's house, ten miles northeast of town,
Would cause the frown upon my face to flip flop up-side-down.
I stayed for just a week or so and shared her saggy bed:
Told silly jokes and giggled, as sleep hovered overhead.
Then came that awful morning when we took our country walk.
The day would start with sunshine and much childish, girlie talk.
Mowed stubble in an open field, each bare foot placed with care,
As well as dirt road trod upon, with stones and pebbles there.
But what we were to come upon, while meandering on our way,
Is not a sight that any child might come upon today.
An old shed there beside the road, not even tucked from sight.
A charnel house with death inside: bad dreams to come that night!
The hog and steer hung upside down and both were split in half.
The pig above a rusted drum, prepared for scalding bath.
Their innards heaped beside the shed, a pile of sickening gore.
Two heads with glazed and staring eyes, would view the world no more.
A slaughterhouse for all to see while happening to pass by.
Run by a neighboring farmer who did butchering on the side.
We stood transfixed and watched him work, his lips pursed in a whistle,
As he dunked the hog in the scalding drum: later scraping off the bristle.
And sadly we took a closer look at the face of that old steer.
Two days before we had patted him in a field not far from there.
That gentle old beast in a pasture, unknowingly chewing his cud.
Now a dead and lifeless thing, defiled with sawdust and blood.
We trudged home in solemn silence, our innocence badly bruised.
The world, though still an open book, had new . . less pleasant rules.
A lesson in our lives to come of the callousness of men,
With many more lessons to follow, before this world will end.
Now when I see children learn about death, while watching pretend CGI;
Two little girls will still come to mind, and the old steer that made them cry.
© 2015 Diane Lefebvre
Categories:
saggy, dark, death, sad, scary,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
MY BEAUTY
Piece by piece
I will remove them
I will undo them now.
I will undress now
Like the stripper you wish me to be
I will throw them at you
Daring you to grab them
Measuring how vast your desire is
Seeing your indecision on whether
To hold the pieces
Or to touch my nakedness.
I will gently remove my starched headpiece
That sits majestically on my head
And finger comb my shaggy shrubby hair
Knotted lifeless on my head.
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For why should I hide
My beauty from your loving eyes?
I will with particular care unclasp my gold earrings
That have been winking all night at you
And leave dark scarred earlobes
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For why should I hide
My beauty from your yearning eyes?
I will unadorn my neck
Tugging away the heavy priceless pearls
That have hung around my neck
And leave my almost invisible neck
Bare to your glance
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For why should I hide
My beauty from your worshipping eyes?
I will with precision and concision unclasp my floral printed blouse
That has fitted me to perfection all evening
To reveal my wrinkled saggy breasts
That have obeyed the law of gravity
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For why should I hide
My beauty from your coveting eyes?
I will slowly push my pencil skirt
That has hugged my curves adoringly
I will sway with it as it travels down
Revealing flabby cellulite infected folds of flesh
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For why should I hide
My beauty from your worshipping eyes?
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For my beauty
Is what really glazes your eyes
Not so?
Categories:
saggy, satire, beauty, beauty, me,
Form:
Free verse
I've walked with them for hundreds of miles,
across the towns and countryside. They've
carried dust, sand, mud and nails.
People have seen me walking with them;
seeing my shoes and I age with time. Now
they look torn and saggy.
Methinks that if my shoes could talk,
they would write a true story about me:
the heartbreak I experienced in mid fall,
during a nature trail;
the first time I got a driving license;
many times my book manuscript was rejected
by publishers;
the first time I got a kiss right;
number of times I visited a counselor....
Now the shoes stick in a shoe rack,
reminding me of my youth.
Categories:
saggy, history, imagery, life, me,
Form:
Narrative
How much more can we stand
To witness the killing of "Another Black Man?"
Walking with a friend, these two meet
Words were spoken, get the “F” out the street
Getting out of his car, taking this shh… a lil too far
Pulling out his gun, Mike Brown on the run
Hands up, don’t shoot, Black Lives Matter
Shot down to the ground, see the blood splatter
Black Man on the ground lifeless and dead
“No Indictment,” was the verdict they said
Over and over, again and again
Got this on video, but we know how it end
“Leave me alone, stop harassing me”
I’m minding my own business, can’t you see
All of a sudden, Eric Garner was choked
“I can’t breathe,” the last words he spoke
No justice, no peace, another brother deceased
Black Man on the ground lifeless and dead
“No Indictment,” was the verdict they said
And now to the world, you gotta go tell
Unarmed Black Man killed in the stairwell
Can you believe, it wasn’t even dark?
12 year old killed, shot dead in a park
Kid was riddled with bullets all in him
No questions asked, he was dead in a minute
Here we are in 2020, truly what the heck
Another Black Man can’t breathe
Dead from a knee pressed in his neck
What’s really going on? Another son not making it home
Another kid without his dad
The country’s tired, fed up and mad
Saggy pants, dreads and even some tats
Make us suspicious and plus we’re black
None of that defines just who we are
This shh… being taken wayyy too far
No matter what’s the name, Eric Garner, Mike Brown
Any kind of Black Man is a target ‘round town
Stop killing our brothers, our husbands, our sons
Please, Please, Please… Stop shooting your guns
They say, “It’s NOT about race”
Well if it’s NOT about race, then it must be about fear
Yet who are we that they fear when they see
The color of a man, black, brown, caramel or tan?
And if it is about fear, then it must be “The Fear of a Black Man”
Because truth be told, it’s NOT the same results
How many times do you hear of a shooting of a “white man”
Just because you “thought” he had a gun?
Or the unarmed white man shot 10 times in the back just because he was running away?
It’s not justice, it’s not fair
It’s not the same everywhere
Where did this fear come from?
Where did it begin?
Is it the power of the color of the skin?
Categories:
saggy, america, black african american,
Form:
Narrative
Is it fair that youth is beauty
That the best we can ever be
Is before we are twenty three
Why can't a wrinkle be sexy
Who says grey hairs are icky
Contact lenses are too tricky
Comfort and ease of eyeglasses
Tri focal eyeglasses
But why, but how, when
Did youth escape and old fogey begin
The burden of life's responsibilities
The worry of offspring indeed
The need for success
The desire to impress
That weather our smooth silky skin
Into worn leather feel rough and thin
Tooth loss and baldness
Nose hairs and body aches
Disease and numbness
Hot flashes and body shakes
Dimming of senses
Enlargement of ears
Shrinking by inches
New things are fears
Tired blood and blue veins
Forgetting whats her name
Corns and bunions
Yelling at them youngins
Jello instead of steak
Maalox replaces milkshakes
Eat dinner at four asleep by nine
Can't believe the speed of time
Is it fair that youth is beauty
Why can't being old be better
Then aches from change of weather
To using a cain instead of raising it
Gumming a steak until you can't spit
Just think how sexy you will be
If you finally reach forty three
Lets change our perspective
Not be so narrowly selective
Enough of the smooth shapely firm
Cute bouncing buns we had and yearn
Let's hear it for the pale faded
Wrinkled saggy way nature made it
Posteriors of the more mature crowd
On second thought without my glasses
Youth is beauty
Enjoy while its yours
Categories:
saggy, age, funny, humor, life,
Form:
Rhyme