Best Skirt Poems
Sarina bought a hula-hula skirt
Was so long it swept up the garden dirt
When she mowed the lawn
Her hula was shorn
Now poor Sarina is known as Flirt Girt.
The site of every creature in skirt
gives him fever
and overworks his liver
with the thousands of feminine perfumes inhaled.
His magical touch
and mercurial mind,
intertwine their soft spots
like a weaver.
Every night,
he is blessed with a diva
and his sweet mouth
filled with honey
makes her his part-time lover.
To avoid biological consequences
he casts a spell on her ova
getting exact results
and retaining his trophies.
Even when his calculations fail,
he overlooks with a careless smile.
What then can stop his trade,
when he transacts in a market
of a never ending supply?
Impresses with his rover
lavishing promises of holidays in Geneva
and impacts the belief
that he'll give them all, forever.
But he'll start sniffing the next underwear
even before its over;
is the favorite game of chess
played by the Casanova.
Many and many years ago back when
Many were poor and poverty was real
Lay offs happened_momma got fired then
We lived rural with pork, dry peas for a meal
Daddy worked, my brother worked a job too
So there was some money to pay those bills
Extras were not thought of_real needs accrue
Then my aunt came with clothes_now not dullsville
They pulled out this purple skirt with those buttons
Purple buttons how I loved those jewels
Quickly at once they said too mature, hon
Snip went those buttons_no bombshell
Pressed the skirt_wrinkles gone poverty stayed
Today those purple buttons mood arrayed
Sponsor: Blacked Eyed Susan
Contest: Buttons
Here’s a thought that could be pursued
For the Scotts who would be tattooed
It is the new fad
To ink a kilt that's plaid
Around parts not normally viewed
Author's note: Thanks to Kelly in Old Town's (Va) restaurant for the inspiration. You are a fantastic server.
We all want to have the perfect shape, the media
Are at fault, they use the young as their tool,
Making some gents and ladies look like a fool,
Whether young and feisty or facetious and bold,
Or middle aged with a tummy that can’t help but fold,
Maybe trendy, adventurous, getting a little old
The mirror in horror tells us, we need to diet a lot,
Or join the army of the overweight and be forgot.
There are there those that take notice of the media
And those who don’t, and those that don’t have to care,
They look good all the time whatever they wear.
Then on the next advertisement on the highway,
A Wimpy advert as large as life,
Two waffles for the price of one, syrup, loads of cream,
Some do resist, but for many of us a delicious dream,
Does our will power and choice not come into play,
We visit Wimpy today, and tomorrow is another day,
What the heck, we only live once, we are tempted,
How many times a diet have we attempted,
We give in, our husband admires a slim gal,
Our wife flirts with her boss,
So, eat to live and not live to eat,
We should look at a waffle as a reward, a fine treat,
And look in the mirror and feel proud of our shape,
From the grip of the media we therefore escape,
'I'm heading home to my love, an absolute dish!'
Sexiest Legs Ever In Her Short Mini-skirt
Sexiest legs ever in her short mini-skirt,
new teacher's sexy appeal made we young boys hurt.
Sixty-nine and seeing more was a young lad's dream
we were all on that dedicated lust-filled team.
Three fantastic female teachers, each broke the mold
we were still naive young boys at fifteen years old.
Our sexual desires were programmed in too deep
O' what dreams we had in our fitful sex-crazed sleep!
Looking back, our lives were eager learning curves then
we knowing much but not yet able bodied men.
Magical thoughts of passionate nights interludes
with those young sexy new teachers, none were old prudes.
Our childish little lusting thoughts, trash to be burned.
Big changing world too big, so much to be learned.
R.J. Lindley,
July 13th, 1979
12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12
Total # Syllables: 180
Total # Lines: 20 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:
Total # Words: 129
Note-- In 1969, our school had three new teachers, fresh from college
hired to teach. Each one was not only drop dead gorgeous but each one
dressed sexy and wore short, short mini-skirts a couple days a week.
We freshmen, most 15 years old, a few at 16 -all were put into a frenzy
and often found it hard to walk to the chalkboard when called to do a math problem..
Once entered a talent show just for beginners
It was obvious from the start that I was a winner
Sang Mary had a little lamb
Showed how talented this guy am
Wearing a cute little skirt which made me look slimmer
© Jack Ellison 2015
guitar strangs man!
we heard the strang's of delgrin
and were beamed otta our seat's
it's like booty-booty bomb sh4t!
I mean the bassy grooves and the lyrics
they hit me like a stereo!
swing dos' hips and get a grip
on some real good loving!
singles and swingers, baby what's for dinner
cause dessert is you !
I mean like who's got the answer
when the question is wrong
laid back getting squirt's from the boss type
loving!
greasy fanga's gal show!
groovy bassy funk!
Wake up all you parents
you must be on alert
Laws are changing, not too good
for men that wear a skirt
Next time you're out in public
and need a bathroom break
That ladies room you want to use
may be a sad mistake
You go into the ladies room
a male is standing there
Nonchalantly changing clothes
he looks at you, he's bare
You scream and quickly run outside
yelling for police
Sex Offender, Pedophile
just to say the least
Your daughter's sobbing and upset
the trauma is too much
Hiding in the bathroon stall
she said he tried to touch
Police assure you, change in law
the Courts are on his side
Anything he wants to be
he does not have to hide
In his mind he is a girl
does that mean that you are wrong?
Indecency (what used to be)
it is now a different song
Courts are telling you God's wrong
is common sense wrong too?
Change the world and our belief
just to please a few
Something's very wrong right here
our world's turned upside down
Can't let the Liberal left win this
High Court needs to rebound.....
Pete Yuhas
Wearing our tribal skirt
I’m reminded of my grandmother
who has bequeathed me rich distinct cultural heritage.
Adorned with our traditional costume
my heart is pleased, imagining my Lola*, my Mom’s mother
smiling delightfully, beholding her granddaughter proud of her roots.
Midst the nostalgia brought by such clothing
I see myself beside Lola’s bedside, listening to her
as she would vividly narrate heroic acts of fellowmen during the war.
Having in my possession a so-called “heirloom”
my gratitude to Lola is intensified through virtues instilled
by Mama, reverberating with, “I learned those from Nanang**.”
Praising God for His blessings
I’ll value the piece of treasure I inherited
my Lola has passed on, along legacy of a good name.***
*Lola-the word we use to address our “Grandmother”
**Nanang-My mother’s term of endearment for “Mother.”
***Proverbs 22:1 A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favour rather than silver and gold.
March 15, 2021
1st place, "I Remember" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Malabika Ray Choudhury; judged on 3/17/2021.
A savvy transit cop observed
An action quite suspicious.
A perpetrator was engaged
In business most malicious.
His newspaper was subtly placed
Beneath a woman’s skirt,
While clipped to it, a camera pen
Took photographs, covert.
The victim was oblivious
That she was being snapped,
But soon the rogue photographer
Had handcuffs tightly clapped.
Ironically, the culprit
Is a well-esteemed M.D.,
Of all things a urologist,
Who sees these parts for free.
So why this weird behavior
When he’s far away from work?
He risked his whole career
For what his job had as a perk.
The lesson to be learned is that
A gal should be alert;
You never know what may be lurking
Underneath your skirt.
An alert in a skirt is not skating today nor skiing either.
I like the kitchen nice and neat and therefore I can have something nice to eat. Not that I am bowed. Nor allowed. Something you deny yourself, something you believe. Something you deny yourself is often better for your health but the wealth of the information that pours through the currents and channels is often akin to becoming a large oversized waterfall with an antelope at the apex. Antelopes are often located on slopes. Steep stepping stalking streaming stems then.
Great how a dinner plate sparkles in it's glory then becomes tainted with the food. Great how the under-wiring of a mini oven can baffle even the most talented cleaner.
Great how the shine of a mirror disappears with one loud sneeze
Is that not all great and wonderful?
It is with inspiration that the mop is held for mopping when uninspired is likened to building a church without a steeple. Fashionable it may be to question one may not wish to upset or irk the dustpan and brush over how many crumbs it has had in it's entire life. That information is contained by the bristles and the pan.
Whirling dispersals of plumages can dispel demonic dregs.
And so it was said that what was said meant that the said was said to be.
And a twist and shout and an octagonal A in a 4567 in a myriad of swish curtain moves. Talented that is. No, really it is. It can have a migratory effect though upon the memoria of the hidden beams. With or without the thought gymnasts whose agility can manouvre through many a swamp, many a lake and many a pancake crust.
Good
WOW
and a great big splooosh to it.
Z Parastratiosphecomyia stratiosphecomyiodes Z
At 32 cups of coffee wobbling down a road with 13 shopping bags of milk
Form:
Quite awful had been the gossip:
About a widening girl's hip.
"Why would it not Holy Men trip
And apart the toughest skirt rip?"
Quite idle had been the gossip:
About Eves' wears eyes could off strip;
From speaker worker's sweat drip,
Sometimes, audience clammy hands grip
Gossipy lips that could wine sip;
There were hands who could his glass tip!
Lips good at digging a deep pit:
Its shovels never made a slip...
As the gist gets sweeter lost zip,
Stabbing Truths and lies bit by bit
Their source, sure, is getting a tip,
As a hip keeps receiving whip!
Lasted it had two hours,
Round the indulged bottles flowers
A ladies' man named Winston MacWilt
pursued many women to the hilt.
He eyed every skirt
ever ready to flirt.
But he died touching a Scot in a kilt.
My mother had three magazines coming monthly in the sixties.
Women’s Day, Redbook and Ladies Home Journal.
American Girl Magazine made its debut, and she bought if for us.
My twin and I.
I remember thinking “who dresses like this?”
With the first edition.
By the third month I had to have white go go boots.
And a short plaid skirt.
But of course, living with my mother, it was never short enough.