Best Supermodel Poems
In our Asian-cum-Eastern land
No one prefers or admires
the dark-skinned or tanned
Gosh, as if the fair-skinned alone
belonged to the so-called fairer sex
And here, 'black is beauty' a phrase unheard
All falling for the light skinned almost in reflex!
Bachelors on the hunt for a non-fictional Asian 'Snow-white'
Even an ugly heart will do if the skin is white, pale and light
For them lighter skin tis brighter and better at beauty
even if superficial and skin-deep
The dark-skinned maidens thereby left single to weep
But while the ebony dark- pigmented
go on applying whitening and lightening creams
The white Westerners frequented
the sunlit beaches for dark tans from sun beams!
So in westerners females wish to look browned and tanned
Thus the opposite is preferred
so to that end they may sun bathe for hours on beach sand
Ah and though from the point of view of my motherland
I am luckier that God chose
to model me from a peachy whiter lighter clay,
I still feel this tug-of-war between complexions
needn't really join the fray.
For when you and I glance at Naomi Campbell
we know beauty can be white, brown and black as well
Like love, beauty knows no colour, creed or race
As proved by this gorgeous black supermodel.
Besides, we all have come across
both dark-skinned angelic saints
and fair-skinned folks with sinner's taints
Ah, Black Beauty, or Fair and lovely
Beauty has never known any bounds
For God He distributed beauty rather equally
No argument can last on these grounds
Oh, a soulmate's inner beauty ought to be earnestly sought
Too bad lustful passions fall for those merely outwardly hot!
Categories:
supermodel, color, prejudice, race, ,
Form:
Rhyme
Categories:
supermodel, health
Form:
Light Verse
EVENT PLANNER:
Party
Smarty
AWARDS BANQUET:
Winner
Dinner
STUCK-UP SUPERMODEL:
Snotty
Hotty
CHEERFUL DAD:
Happy
Pappy
TODDLER WITH A SNACK:
Munchin'
Munchkin
HYPERACTIVE CHIMP:
Spunky
Monkey
A SWEET TREAT:
Tummy
Yummy
1/21/2013
Categories:
supermodel, funny,
Form:
Footle
Oooh FUNKY MONKEY on a John Deer
tractor in a pair of blue overalls
everybody that gets a load of you just
has to have their picture taken with you
Now you’re a movie star with agents on
speed dial chilling out by the pool in a
pair of shades that makes you look so
Hollywood Kool and everybody there
wants your autograph and their picture
taken with you...
Ahhh FUNKY MONKEY getting down
on the dance floor, dressed to the 9's
drinking banana cocktails some blonde
said give me some sugar and a little
tongue but another said ***** I'll kick
your ass you need to your ass to the
back of the line, this kiss is mine...
Mmmm FUNKY MONKEY driving
a Porsche and a supermodel home
you go FUNKY MONKEY let me know
if you need any help well oh ok then
go on with your bad self...
lucky FUNKY MONKEY, lucky,
lucky FUNKY MONKEY!
Categories:
supermodel, celebrity, farm, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
*Coitus*
A thoroughbred dime,
supermodel fine.
Gauge earnings, sleeve tattoos
and similar world views.
No tan lines,
I'm trying to get next to you!
Juices flow, rhythm & blues,
wine & dine you
play with ice cubes!
Inspired by your movements
one of a kind!
A spectacle from behind!
Magnificence unearthed,
we tussle,
unwind!
Goose pimples emerge
inner thighs,
braille for the blind.
I splurge,
submerged
in your earth!
Sailing your sea,
tidal waves of ecstasy
consumed,
I caused this Tsunami.
Entangled, our bodies
like Origami.
Dreamy coos of serendipity,
shy girl
turned **** star
flexing wickedly,
her natural affinity.
A delicacy like calamari!
Jared Pickett
3/19/2014
Asavvy1
Categories:
supermodel, desire, image,
Form:
Free verse
Tall, slender, supermodel tree,
elegant trunk dappled silvery milk.
Waif-like leaves dance in the breeze,
flirt and flutter, a skirt of silk.
Arms reach skyward, lean and long,
slim limbs covering sylph-like form.
Sinewy shoulders, but still strong,
stoop and sway in the surging storm.
Birds, taking cover, settle light,
build their nests and sing their songs,
squirrels scurry to highest height,
survey their kingdom, where they belong.
What tales could you tell, towering tree,
of flora, fauna, humans too?
What wisdom will you share with me?
I will listen with respect for you.
Ruth Mawdsley
September 2019
Categories:
supermodel, nature, tree,
Form:
Rhyme
SHE WALKS WITH CONFIDENCE SHE WALKS WITH PRIDE STRUTTING AROUND IN HER PLUS SIZE.
SHE CARRIES HERSELF LIKE A SUPERMODEL LIKE A NUBIAN QUEEN SHE IS ONE OF THE BADDEST CHICKS I EVER SEEN.
SHE PUTS GOD FIRST IN HER LIFE AND HOLDS ON TO HIS HOLY WORD.
SHE GLOWS WITH HER HONEY ALMOND BROWN SKIN AND HER SHINY BLACK HAIR.
HER BEAUTY IS NOT TO BE TAKEN FOR GRANTED IT IS TO BE CHERISHED AND SHE LETS PEOPLE KNOW THAT.
IMANI IS HER NAME AND BEING CONFIDENT IN HERSELF IS HER GAME.
Categories:
supermodel, black african american,
Form:
Personification
It hurts when I go for a walk
and get attacked by the same old dog,
it hurts when I run over things
I can't see because of the fog,
it hurts when I'm in the shower
and come out with 1st degree burns,
it hurts when I'm stuck in traffic
and have to go pee real bad,
it hurts when my family flees
when I try to sing like Adele,
it hurts when I get stung by a bee
and my rear end starts to swell,
it hurts when I trip over the cat
and fall down the front porch steps,
it hurts when that same mama bird
starts pecking at me because of her nest,
it hurts when I'm leaving a store
and their alarm suddenly goes off,
and everyone stops and stares
at you including your own boss,
it hurts when I come out of a carwash
and have a bird turd splatter on my car,
it hurts when I run out of gas
and have to walk real far,
it hurts when my deodorant
fails me in the 7th hour,
it hurts when I come out of a salon
and don't look like a supermodel,
it hurts when I make a meal
and they claim its Fear Factor food,
it hurts when I can't make someone laugh
when their in a real bad mood.
I hope everyone has a very Happy and Safe 4th of July!:)
Categories:
supermodel, feelings, humor,
Form:
Light Verse
Once in a blue moon
I vividly dream of a veiled woman
noisily walking into my dream in high heels.
Oh, how I wish she could
seep into my dream
night after night!
Her mega-watt smile, fireworks
Bursting into a shower of sparks.
A frangipani always stuck in her hair
faithfully obeys the wind. She's a poet's dream muse,
sashaying down the street
like a runway supermodel
Her black stiletto high heels
Pounds the pavement "Clump! Clump! Clump!"
Attracting rapt attention here and there.
A cynosure of all eyes wherever she goes.
She's the epitome
of sheer elegance and charm.
And she walks
with such sublime grace,
strutting, exhibiting immense confidence
She's one of a kind, not real, though.
She just shows up in my dream
Once in a blue moon
Date witten: 06/02/2018
Categories:
supermodel, dream, imagination, simile, woman,
Form:
Imagism
when you lose sight of what really counts
its easy to focus on only whats shallow
am i too fat is my nose too big
do i walk or talk weird whats wrong with me
when we forget the depth that is here in this world
and focus on things that are just absurd
so maybe im not a supermodel and my bums a tad on the thick side
and maybe im no a genius thats getting a scholorship on my side
but does that mean im nothing that i dont count
this world is getting sickening count me OUT
im ashamed of myself for even thinking like this
and obsessing to tears over shallow petty ****
i am praying that god hears my pleas for help
because i cant conquer this all by myself
i used to not care didnt care at all
but like any other i rise and fall
i am of the opinion that your body is a shell
and youll leave it behind when you go to heaven or hell
it will rot in the ground and count for nothing
and when i meet my maker he wont care how big my bum is
some women ONLY care about their looks and they dont get it
they dont see the big picture
and i fear theyll regret it
and other women dont care even at all
about their looks because their depth is so massive and raw
but then theres me in the middle with so much depth and spirituality
why do i waste time wondering what are all the things wrong with me
im sick of crying over it ive done it for too long
im sick of getting angry when i cant crawl out of my bod
its a thought that i had reguarding a cacoon
like how catapielers go into them and out comes a butterfly zoom
if i could just crawl out my mouth my soul free for just a moment
and be allowed to have a different shell to live and own it
i wonder what its like to feel just for a second
not arrogance but a sweet compliment from someone who MEANT IT
my desperate pleas go out to you and anyone else who will listen
i hate my body im sick of my face and my voice is just ridiculous
so lets just drop it in the ocean let it sail away
cuz me im going to better places where i dont have to cry all day
where i know that my body is just a little shell a vehicle if you will
its our car or truck or limo or bus to use while we use our free will
and ive always said when you go you don't take your money your lambergini
or your watch expensive jewlery its all staying beind
and you should think about what YOUR world is while im trying desperatley to fix mine
Categories:
supermodel, angst, confusion, death, depression,
Form:
ABC
not having a chance to get their own birth
perfect
(having had no say in the matter), the perfectionist is thrown into the world,
where chaos reigns---
and the primary caregiver who showed up for the
job
(providing one was lucky enough to have someone show),
they do their best to keep the child out of harm’s way
they feed them, clothe them, take them to school, etc.
until that being born without a choice
(to say “screw this,” i’m not coming out!),
now has grown up---
the grown-up being is one whose emotions run wild,
and yet this particular perfectionist
tries to keep it all settled,
like it was nestled in a beautiful little box---
one kept up on the shelf &
only to be brought out on special occasions---
the perfectionist is a planner,
a control freak &
one who does not work well with failure---
early on they learn not to trust others,
because being linked to anyone or anything, even remotely resembling
attachment,
will end up bringing another’s personality into the attempt at
perfection,
and being that one perfect life is hard enough to attain,
another cook trying to make the tastiest soup,
well, it just won’t do.
so the perfectionist finds ways of self-discipline,
s/he cuts feelings off from her/himself when people get too close,
and with success in a career,
the perfectionist finds new ways of gaining freedom by
spending themselves out of situations which they do not want to
take part in---
they learn to have conversations wherein the deleting
whole parts of a seemingly complete person
in order to maintain a specific guise in any given context,
is not only routine,
but with this newly found ability comes a sense of pride,
which others attempting perfection,
may never be able to grasp.
the perfectionist hones their life
like one would a stick when carving bits & pieces away,
in order to make it look
just
exactly
like
it
should----
and yet,
the perfectionist,
like an airbrushed photo of a supermodel on the glossy cover of a
magazine,
s/he knows nothing of this impossible state s/he seeks,
because it
does
not.
Categories:
supermodel, life,
Form:
Free verse
s/he’ll stand for just what you
want her/too,
s/he’ll pull out all the stops,
s/he’ll stay up all day & night
to gain another ballot box,
s/he’ll visit towns & villages
that no one knows exist,
s/he’ll bow down, suck off,
kiss up, bend over,
as long as the election
s/he wins.
s/he takes on many faces
s/he’s new & improved,
comfortable & old fashioned---
s/he’s as hip as you need her/him
to be, s/he’s as comfortable &
quaint (like mash potatoes,
ice cream & all comfort foods of
the self-pity-alone-on-a-weekend-
night can produce)---
s/he’s the friend you’ve always known,
s/he’s the famous one you
envy,
s/he’s the key to all your happiness &
if you don’t think so right now,
s/he will convince you
quickly.
s/he says everything that YOU want to,
so that you don’t need to get off the
couch,
s/he is as photogenic as a supermodel
or as ugly as the Grouch---
for what it takes to win your faith
in this crippled & corrupt
system,
is nothing but a moment of your time &
a voice for you to
listen.
Categories:
supermodel, life,
Form:
Free verse
Body cavity is as fine as [s]he can be.
[S]he walks with jealousy because [s]he is not me.
I wonder why I aggravate effusively.
Is it [my] swagger?
Is it how I enthrall with [my] poetry?
A supermodel has this kind of body who thinks I am an overweight nobody.
One day [s]he discovers I write poetry.
Respect is given as jealousy.
Am I desirous?
[S]he is possessiveness.
Why is [s]he resentful?
[S]he states that I am arrogant.
My swagger
I am not bragging.
[S]he sashays.
Why does [s]he want me to be a flounce?
I just write what is on my mind.
Categories:
supermodel, anger, body, conflict, confusion,
Form:
Free verse
whilst perusing the gallery o’ conditioners of
air,
a hand comes flying up toward him,
insistently shaking & uttering the man’s name
as if he is supposed to remember---
“john doe here, how are you?” remarks the man,
a salesman with tag on shirt,
quick on the chase of a prospective customer over
their way from the appliances to the
big screen TVs &
a bit bewildered, looking up to recall the face
possibly, a face to match a name already said &
suddenly the man being handshaked
remembers this guy from his
teenage years---
the man had flowing red hair back then,
said his brother was a supermodel &
no doubt, he had gotten the residual ladies as a
result,
heard back then that he had a great romance with
Lucy who went Swimming quite a bit in north
Dakota &
though his hair had been shaved, he was still
that tall skinny red haired guy whose eyes bulged
out of his head, regardless of how what kind of
chemicals his mind was racing with
at any given time---
but he saw the look in the handshaked, vaguely
remembering guy’s face,
something of an anti-social behavior,
something in the way of “i don’t really give a
flying ****,”
and he retracted into a place of insecurity---
the handshaked man doing his best to be polite
remarked,
“hey, how’s it goin’?” &
the skinny red haired john doe said with
embarrassment, “i’m selling appliances---
but that’s not what i’m really doing. i mean,
i’m working on something---going to school,
gonna work in forestry---yeah, that’s what i
want to do.”
so the handshaked man nodded & smiled,
said “sounds good”---
being cut off by the john doe---
“are you gonna be around the store for a bit?”
sick of the whole situation &
not wanting to reminisce about times that
hold absolutely no significance whatsoever anymore,
the handshaked man declined &
as he walked out of the store
he wondered just why someone would flail themselves on
a person from the past,
only to retract in embarrassment,
before even finding out just what it is that
the other party was doing with their own life.
Categories:
supermodel, life, hair, red, hair,
Form:
Free verse
I went to a crazy bar in a fancy car with a supermodel.
I had everything I wished, except it felt so bare and hollow.
Woke up and cried, though I know, no one heard my sorrow,
How I hoped I was brave and had some left for someone to borrow.
I just don’t seem to like anybody,
But why do I tell myself I need somebody?
This paradox makes me so confused about everybody,
And I can’t treat myself ‘cause I don’t have any money.
Walking down the road all by myself, I see nobody.
Yet I glance around, hoping I can spot a bunny,
In the middle of the road, people think I’m loony.
But I know, I need a rope, I feel so lonely.
I know my shadow has got my back, sitting right beside my rack
Hard as I try, I can’t seem to stop reeling from the knack.
I know I’m all I need, so I buckle up and get my sack.
Though I keep it in, my heart feels like it’s being rolled like tarmac.
I lie to me, so I can sleep peacefully, about all around me
How hard I try, to keep it in, but just can’t stop feeling lonely.
I want no one but need someone to hear my baloney,
How hard I wish, it was someone, other than my own one and only.
Categories:
supermodel, confusion, deep, emotions, loneliness,
Form:
Rhyme