Best Strapless Poems


Dinner For Two

Dinner at eight 

Winter soup and roast 

both ready
 
A candle lit 

 table for two 

An empty vase 

without any flowers 

My welcome carpet 

awaiting you 

Slow cooked mulled wine 

fills the hallway 

with an aromatic scent 

of cinnamon and spice 

The fire's embers glowing 

a sparkle in my eyes. 

Clothes, all the best I tried 

Wanting to be perfect 

when he gets by my side. 

Needing to impress 

I put on my make up 

a sweetened perfume 

and a strapless red dress.

I let my hair cascade 

whilst thinking of my date 

 wondering if one can fall in young love 
again 

Am i not too old?

 isn't it too late? 


I walked down the stairs 

and dimmed the light 

Put on some soft jazzy music 

and waited the night 



Ready since four

Showered and shaved

Splashed on some Acqua Di Gio

Freshly pressed pants

Midnight blue polo shirt

Listening to some love songs

practicing my best dance moves
singing along

why does waiting take so long?



Thinking about tonight

My heart beats stronger

What will I say?

Will we embrace?

Will you ask me to stay?



Eight o'clock sharp

I walk up to your door

palms sweaty

throat dry

holding my breath
and a single red rose


slowly the door opens

our eyes meet

you smile

inviting me in
Categories: strapless, romantic,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Facets

She was all that and much more
  The child with the smiles and the braids
    White dresses, friendly nods and compliancy
      Muddy shoes, trees and cursing
        Sent away from school and frowns
          Cycling on one wheel only
            Plastered with band aids

            Quick glances in the mirror
          Lip-gloss, eye-liner, brushed hair
        Strapless dress and high heels
      Stolen kisses in the dark of the alley
    With that boy or that girl
  Clumsily fumbling with straps
Or zippers
  Hungrily searching not finding

    Running away faster and faster
      At the running track
    Through the woods.
      The girl with the curls and cap, and blowing hair
    From her eyes
      Refusing to look in the mirror
    Refusing to face, face to face
      Denying.

Multi-faceted and beautiful
  The girl that didn’t dare to decide
    And therefore decided to swim
      Folded her clothes
        Next to her shoes
          Swam till her lungs were empty
        And her heart full
      And her eyes swam
    Only when her body felt like loose pebbles
  Held together by skin
She felt for the first time

She is all that and much more
  She is beautiful, her head high
Sometimes she uses lip-gloss
  Sometimes she climbs trees
She laughs soft, loud, teary-eyed, and often
  She hugs tight and warm and infinitely loving
She gives love to him, her, and herself
  Love her back, all of her
With gusto

***

Repost from September 2016
© Darren White
Categories: strapless, beautiful, emotions, life, love,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member For You - With Chris Green

I light a candle and in its flutter
open envelopes,
each one holds a piece of your past

I make old stories fly.

A child's ringlets
bounce in a mirror
new shoes skip
ten to two
eleven
three

Lip-gloss, eye-liner, braided hair
strapless dress, stilettos
brisk kisses in low-lit alleys.

Recorded memories
for your eager ears
And I see your freedom dance
in a last flicker.

Copyright © Darren White
Categories: strapless, beautiful, inspirational, love,
Form: Free verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member The Q and a of Love

Bubble gum? Nay, methinks a box of dark chocolates, 'tis best,

A daisy? Nay, methinks a bouquet of velvet red roses, 'tis best,

Pants outfit? Nay, methinks a full-length strapless white silk dress, 'tis best,

Brown coat? Nay, methinks a Chinchilla fur coat, 'tis best,

Taxi? Nay, methinks a chauffeured limousine, 'tis best,

Queens? Nay, methinks an Ace, 'tis best,

Twelve? Nay, methinks a seven, 'tis best,

Craps Table? Nay, methinks a Baccarat Table, 'tis best,

Restaurant? Nay, methinks a Fine Dining Cuisine, 'tis best,

Fish? Nay, methinks a lobster, 'tis best,

White wine? Nay, methinks a Magnum of Champagne, 'tis best,

After dinner mints? Nay, methinks a bit more, 'tis best,

I still have some gum?

{KISS}



05/27/2019
© Hilo Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: strapless, 11th grade, 12th grade,
Form: List

Shades of Grey

Shades of Grey

Happiness can fade away
I change the way I feel today
These Shades of Grey in yesterday 
These Shades of Grey in yesterday

Her echoes "Take this madness"
Soft and silly sick with sadness
Sickened sadness painted Blackness
Tethered strapless
Choked and breathless
-Wicked lies list 
Lust for you
Kindness
You shattered me 
Lifeless
So "Can't find you", nice, Miss
Gagged and bound
'Not scared to die'- kiss
I dream 
My dream missed
Sick with sadness
Paint my Blackness
Silly sad list
Echoes Madness
Staring silent
scary Silence
Whispered to me
"I feel you through me"

Happiness can fade away
I change the way I feel today
These Shades of Grey in yesterday
These Shades of Grey in yesterday.                                                                                                            

"I'll paint the sky for you if you move the world for me~"
Categories: strapless, angst, crazy, feelings, satire,
Form: Dramatic Monologue

Retail Therapy

Yesterday I found myself slumped
into the saddest of trenches,
for no particular reason
other than a new moon cycle.
Instead of flopping myself
in my studio’s armchair to write,
I drove to the mall for an outing 
probably more expensive than 
what a therapist would charge
for an hour in his armchair. 

I wandered into the shoe store—
something about leather 
which grounds me, whether
the flimsy strapless heels 
or the closed-toed pumps or walkers. 

Already lugging two bags, I meander
into the lingerie store for silk 
to accentuate my only remaining 
middle-age curves, skipping over the thongs
and hesitating at the push-up section.

I try on four or five pairs of underwear
to accentuate my butt area,
the part of a woman which shares the 
secret of her fitness, that I work on 
each morning at seven.

I arrive at the boutique who sells my favorite 
blouses, gather some more bags, walking out
with an almost terminal case of rope burn,
until I finally decide it’s time to head back to my car. 
On my way I stop, smile, and realize 
there’s no better way to fight trench warfare.
© Diana Raab  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: strapless, funny, happiness, introspection, loss,
Form: Narrative


The Oscars

Oscars

Oscars night is here again,beautiful women and gorgeous men.
Play acting is what they do on the silver screen for me and you.
Some will win some will lose,the film academy will chose
Fasion statements galore with Gucci armani,and Christian dior


Rubies and diamonds shining bright,bringing sparkle to the night
Backless,strapless and shoulder less gowns some worn with a frown
Helen mirren as the queen looking quite pristine
Penelope Cruz in her Jimmy choo's
What a spectacle what a show and when they won wow
Categories: strapless, funny,
Form: Free verse

Air Brush

1. Dimple under left eye, apply air brush.
2. Extend her legs, more voluptuous. Add 4 inches from ankle to knee cap.
3. You know...I'm just not feeling the dress. Do we have one of her in that green strapless? 
Men like strapless right?
4. Holy hell! Can we do something about those teeth? Yuck!
5. She needs a glow around her head. Yeah like that, like an angel. Fantastic!
6. Rosy hue around cheek bones needs touch up. She needs to blush harder, like she's 
embarrassed about something...something shameful.
7. Final edit, her smile is too big, women that happy don't read magazines...what? Don't look 
at me like that!

Et Voila! Our hyper-stylized over-edited fictitious standard of beauty is realized.

Ok society! 
Get ready...
Set...
Conform!

(Conformity ensues)

Bonus points! We got a celebrity to do the cover shoot.
(Hey, you can only sell your soul once and chances are she already did it...Christ, stop
looking at me like that!!!)

When she takes home her free promotional copy, 
She can hold up our ideal of her side by side with the mirror and think:

"Wow...these images are so different and yet...I sense a strange and *vogue familiarity...
Almost as though...just maybe...they were of the same person...

Huh...I wonder which one represents me?"






*Typo alert! Should be 'vague'...silly me
Categories: strapless, funny, on work and
Form: List

Sophie Reiff, Trophy Wife

Is this the weekend, by the way?
           (I always think it’s Saturday!)
           Load the kids up in the car –
           country club (I hit the spa:
           hand the kids to gay Adolphe –
           calisthenics, crazy golf).
           I spoil myself – it helps the stress –
           the kids are having fun (I guess).
           Fox News Tom Cruise
           No Jews designer shoes.
           Rufe’s so square, a diplodocus:
           the kids will always be my focus.

           Everybody needs a break
           (we’re human too, for goodness’ sake).
           We just do the normal things:
           cabin in Borrego Springs,
           week in Vegas, see the shows,
           birthday dinner (Kiriko’s):
           never noodles, only sushi
           (table used by John Belushi) –
           private beach in old La Jolla
           (Rufe knows someone, bigshot lawyer):         
           cocktail bar, upholstered loungers
           (razor wire keeps out the scroungers).

           Juan’s the poolboy.  My help’s Auxi
           (Juanito’s neat, and Auxi’s mousey).
           Wears my cast-offs, lives on chilli –
           keeps her pay from getting silly.
           Neither’s legal – which is good:
           they stay grateful, like they should.
           Minimum wage would tie a noose to it:
           anyhow, they’re plenty used to it.
           She breastfeeds, Juanito hustles
           (fine-boned body, high-toned muscles).
           He’s moonlighting, pumping gas
           in San Diego, humping ass.

	   Rufe’s no idea what good taste is.
	   Parties with them friends of his.
	   I can’t stand them business folks –
	   Steaks and beers and dirty jokes.
	   I won’t go to meets or meals
           if I can’t wear my strapless heels
           and backless dress (Yves St Lauren)
           it’s not about impressing men
           (who cares what they think?) – it’s the wives
           it matters what a woman drives
           who fixed her hair.  What’s Satan’s curse?
           To show up toting last month’s purse.
Categories: strapless, satire,
Form: Couplet

September Wedding

Upcountry sky gloomed darker, charcoal
as the end of summer sparking fall.
Any ridgetop beckons lightning –
distant thunder – or was it applause?
For she was strapless, bride-white lily
dancing past us 
as they silhouetted into sunset,
sparkling rosé sunflare below clouds.
Categories: strapless, wedding,
Form: Verse

Foundations of Justice

Hanging is too good for them, 
Should cut their danglies off.
Use a rusty jigsaw blade,
They’d be afraid to cough.
Our great Judicial system, 
with infinite foresight,
Ignores these sound suggestions,
That you and I think right.
For Judges and the legal type, 
at our expense guffaw,
believing  that like 
God and Queen,
 they are above the Law.
It is often intimated,
 that despite this regal pose,
they wear peepholes bras
and stockings underneath their 
Chamber robes.
No underpants to interfere,
restrict ,affect  or stay
thus keeping  verdicts
 cool and poised
for any courtroom play.
So when Chief Justice
leans or frowns
or shuffles on his throne
Its probably suspenders  
that are causing him to moan
Or just perhaps 
his strapless bra,
Is chaffing on his back,
perchance his basque’s
laced up too tight,
or his g-strings up his crack.
Some trials that end surpisingly,
the verdict gone askew,
Owe more to misplaced 
leather thong,
than legal point of view.
Perhaps the nuts that 
need cut off,
are not from pervert kind,
but rather leading Legal ones,
No longer sound of mind.
Categories: strapless, funnysound, sound,
Form: Rhyme

Pretty Is

When she was six years old,
she tried to make her hair look like 
how a friend’s did in school
but her coils wouldn’t kink anymore.
Her mama caught her
and asked her what she was doing.
She said: “Making my hair pretty.” 

Her mama said; 

“Pretty is fair skin; stay out of the sun.
It’s straight hair; turn that iron back on.
A straighter nose and thin lips; 
know you’ll never measure up,
but you can at least look good enough.”

Years fly and at a family reunion;
a teenager now and she invited girlfriends
to fool around and cause mischief. 
They played with each other’s hair, 
pierced their ears, applied liner,
and wondered if the boys at school
thought about them, too.  

Annoyed with their antics, 
her auntie pulled her aside to scold:

“Pretty is quiet, sit down and shut up.
It’s dainty, cross your legs and sit tall.
A thin frame and all the right curves; 
well you can’t fix all you’ve got,
but you can at least look good enough.”

Today, her wedding day,
she applied a small amount of makeup, 
washed her hair and let it go,
put on a short, strapless dress 
just because her mama said “no.”

She told herself:

“Pretty is my skin 
and I wanna soak in the sun.
It’s my hair; let it curl all it wants.
It’s me, myself, and I
—I am more than good enough.
Black is pretty 
and that’s something to be proud of.

“I am beautiful 
and that’s something to be proud of.”
Categories: strapless, beautiful, beauty, black african
Form: Free verse

The Librarian

The Librarian

She polished her soft curved buttocks on my suede overcoat
And the smell of her ginseng breath made me stop
And raise my head
Losing my place in the card catalogue.
I shifted my eyes to her reaching arm concealed in an ox-hair sweater
She lifted an encyclopedia from an abandoned desk
And pressed it in folded arms to her whip-cream breast 
I followed her to her reference table
And studied her as she sat unaware of melting eyes

I met her in a bar one night two weeks later
The yellow down now curled around her face and neck
She sat next to me
I talked about books I’d never read
Whispering Sex, The Dictionary of Love, and Lucia’s Feast
I thought of strapless bras and cool wet lips and smooth knees
I leaned on her, almost
As if I were some dusty bookshelf
I touched her tightened backbone

A smile snuck past her ox-hair sweater

She made my beer blended head feel like it was surrounded
White skin that was soft
And if I touched it with my tongue
Stroh’s would turn to sweetened warm milk

I handed her my library card
Watching as she folded it close to her waist
My purple eyes now undressing her

She turned and pressed her thigh to mine
A quite whisper
“Have you ever read Lucia’s Feast?”

I finished my beer and she returned the card
Her thin, bare shoulders nudge mine fluidly
We left the table, 
the leftover books unchecked.
© Jeff Reed  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: strapless, lust,
Form: Free verse

The Fishing Trip

Sitting under a generous eucalyptus tree
It's vibrant feet buried under dark gray moist
Ground. Its pendulum branches bending toward the
bubbly melodious canal; allowing the thin silvery
finger-like leaves to caress the meandering 
Blue-green water. 

In its canopy, groups of cicadas and crickets croon
Their music like chants from falsetto Himalayan
Monks. A scaly lizard with cowboy legs and 
Protruding eyes stares annoyingly.

I inhale the scent of the morning's breath and 
Observe a large blue dragonfly eating mosquitoes
For its breakfast.  Looking at the bank of the
Canal. I see a yellow and black wasp, its line-like
Middle bobbing up and down as if dancing to 
Nature's rhythm. 

Above, the egg yolk colored weeds, a group of
gnats are showing off their acrobatic flying skills
By gliding in perfect formation.  In the distance, 
Clouds of dust like morning mist trail a tractor while
A group of field workers, hoes on their shoulders,
March like soldiers to a military band. 

Looking up, I see the sky taking off its fluffy 
Snow-white strapless dress revealing its blue 
Magnificent body to those fortunate enough to 
Notice. Standing in reverence, my eyes bathing 
In salty liquid I no longer want to fish.
Categories: strapless, beauty, emotions, feelings, fishing,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Please Dont Make a Big Deal of Me

Please don’t make a big deal about my birthday she said.
When you get to a certain age, you don’t want recognition.
She was wearing a pointed hat at the time.
I like to be incognito she lied.
Her six bracelets and fourteen rings begged to differ.
She was wearing a navy-blue strapless gown.
At her age it was remarkable, no one her age does this.
Of course, we do not know what age it is.
The necklace around her neck was a signature piece.
Louder and prouder than any necklace I have ever seen.
Her dangling earrings were fashioned from a designer.
Right, her sons said. “No attention tor you, Mom.”
Her daughters-in-law could not wait to get to the garden to discuss her.
Categories: strapless, women,
Form: Narrative
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