Best Sweatpants Poems
The relay race starts with a bang as rain comes pouring down.
The starting runner, Spring, flies by in her bright flower crown.
Baton gets passed to Summer, who so glowingly appears
right at the very moment that the massive rain cloud clears.
The crowd all loves this golden runner, who too soon is gone.
The sun shines brightly on her as she passes the baton.
The third one, Autumn, plods through leaves and nearly takes a Fall,
then passes off to Winter, who proceeds at such a crawl -
for she showed up in sweatpants, knowing snow had been forecast.
Each spectator cheers loudly when the finish line is passed.
But when that race is over, then a new one's soon begun
with all the fans excited to see how THAT race is run!
Categories:
sweatpants, autumn, race, seasons, spring,
Form:
Couplet
Where'd you go?
oh where did you go
my precious camel toe?
played me like a fiddle
with your bubbly middle
you're such a skanky hoe
but I love you so
camel toe
camel toe
we had magic
we had fire
purple sweatpants my desire
come back camel toe
victory! camel toe
you're the villain
you're the winner
with your puffy
wedgied center
camel toe
camel toe
you're my sassy hoe
you're my Christmas snow
gone like cold wind blows
with your return
my member grows
I miss my camel toe
baby
where'd you go?
sweaty sweetie
camel toe
Categories:
sweatpants, funny, happiness, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
I'm a mind raper
I'm a fine rapper
You'd better stay out of my way
Cause my nine's always strapped
Even on laundry day
Got my glock tucked in my sweatpants
Quarter cup of Tide® Enhance™
Roll up to the laundromat
You want yo titties autographed?
Categories:
sweatpants, allah,
Form:
Italian Sonnet
The house is burning
With violent noise
And red all-over.
I sit in the heat
With a prayerful heart,
That he would arrive.
Superman in his
Spandex suit of hope
And cape of justice.
I burrow inside
My mind to begin
A long wait with hope.
Many minutes then
Days soon followed by
Years of desperate hope.
Just like spring flowers,
My hope, soul, and mind
Wilt to my life's heat.
He is still late; yet,
I always believed
In my Superman.
My superman who'd
Fly with hell's fury
To save the weak ones.
But life's fake heroes,
Try with all their might
To make a belief.
A belief with hope
Of water so pure
It'd wash away grief.
For years I thought
That this hope was a
Power of supers.
I stumble onto
The truth, creating
In me a fire.
I dig deeper in
My mind to be far
From disappointments.
A trumpet sounds
Drawing me from my
Burrow to listen.
The man speaks of
A real thing that has
Powers to help heal.
Yet, as dormant as
It is, the man said,
It must be found.
So, I join this search
For my broken heart
To find the true balm.
A balm that is new
And unique with its
Unknown soothing.
A soothing that feels
Like freedom to fly
And solves all your pains.
The search ends with a
Nugget of precious
Gold from wise humans.
Life is not about
Waiting for your hero
To save you from pain.
Life is all about
Unlocking your heart
And saving yourself.
Using that key of
Wisdom, I unlock
A special, new hero.
This hero steps forth
And shines a light
On the burned rubble.
And with a swish of
Her almighty cape,
She soars upwards.
Floating in the sky,
She calls a massive
Group to come to her.
And because of her
Super strength, the burnt
Rubble was swept away.
I am surprised
When she flies down to
stand in front of me.
I study the shape of
Her face, color of her
Eyes, and her lip's shape.
I smile to her
And then walk away
From my reflection.
She follows in my
Shadow, always there,
Guarding me from harm.
All she will ever
Be is me and all
I will be is she.
My Superhero,
In her sweatpants of
Hope and of Justice.
Flying off into
The sunset till she
Saves the day, again.
Categories:
sweatpants, depression, hero, hope, life,
Form:
Free verse
on a field trip freshman year
the boy
in special classes walked
up the muddy trail.
he
walked on the side,
balancing on the dry stones
aligning the path.
he followed some
acquaintances.
an old coat and
sweatpants with worn elastic
warmed his bones in the gray
mists. bus pass in his pocket
and a few coins, he thought
about lunch - not the rocks he
would have to climb.
his shaven head chilled with drips
from the pines above, the path
narrowed and inclined
between two boulders.
he struggled up the path,
getting dirt on his
snow white shoes.
Categories:
sweatpants, high school, innocence, memory,
Form:
Free verse
I look a sight! And covering my skin
are old loose sweatpants I don’t ever wear
outside the house. That means I’m staying in!
No lipstick. No mascara, and my hair
is tied back in a ponytail. I need
to shower. It could use a good shampoo!
Instead, I grab a magazine to read.
There isn’t too much else I want to do.
But wait! There’s one more thing before I flop
down on my comfy bed. I go to get
some Häagen-Dazs with chocolate on top.
And don’t begin to think I’m finished yet!
Some candies too, for sweets are what I crave
when wearing sweats inside my woman cave!
Written June 14, 2015
For the Sweats and Sweets Contest of Olive Eloisa Guillermo
Categories:
sweatpants, sweet,
Form:
Sonnet
One particularly memorable critic referred to me as a neckbeard in a conversation with a friend this morning. Both of the twats were skinny, pencil-head net-dweebs, the types who frequent cesspools such as reddit.com or 4chan.org. I observed that both geeks were clad in t-shirts emblazoned with figures from Asian cartoons. I laughed to myself, and remarked that fans of Anime should not mock bearded men simply because their own kinds are maligned for their pointlessly lazy grooming. The offending dorks cohort cackled and muttered 'total neckbeard, man.' More cackling. I reached into my pocket and gripped my mini-kunai, which was sheathed into the waistband of my sweatpants, but released the grip and smiled at my antagonists. They needed no punishment. Their only crime was being stupid and hive-minded. I proceeded to the next table, this entire incident having taken place in a McDonald's dining room, and overheard their conversation, a robotic exchange of very old memes and esoteric World of Warcraft lingo. Their odious laughter filled the store, triggered by loudly shouted acronyms pronounced phonetically, such as LOL and ROFL. The couple sitting at the booth across from me was giggling in embarrassment at the idiocy, and the employees looked capable of homicide. I however, lounged lazily in the corner, feasting, the
Neckbeard Warrior at rest.
Categories:
sweatpants, blessing,
Form:
Prose
I was working out on the elliptical machine in the gym, feeling good and watching
the "Calories Burnt" number climb higher and higher.
Then, I noticed a rather shapely and attractive woman step off of the machine two
rows in front of me. As she turns and faces me, I cannot help but notice that the
nipples on her rather large breasts are erect and pressing against her sweat
soaked, tight t-shirt.
When working out, and at other times as well, I suppose, I sometimes drift off and
just stare into space not really cognizant of what I am looking at while lost in
thought.
I must have been doing this as this young woman started walking towards me on
her way to the drinking fountain.
She stops abruptly in front of me and says, rather curtly, "Why don't you take a
picture?"
Snapping out of my temporary coma, I respond, "I'm sorry - what?"
"You seem to be staring at my breasts," she rudely insinuates.
Now, at times like this, in a confrontational moment, I like to try to immediately get
on the attack and, sometimes, in my panic to do so, I can say the stupidest things.
In this case, I come back with, "Are your nipples pointing at me!?"
"What!?"
"Your nipples. They seem to be pointing at me!"
"I assure you, I cannot control what my nipples do."
"And I," I smugly reply, "Cannot control what my eyes do."
"You could look away," she challenges.
"And you could wear a thicker sports bra or sweatshirt", I respond.
At this she just glares at me with hate in her eyes and steam emitting from her ears.
I stare back with my smug grin, alternating my look between her eyes and her
breast.
So, of course, you know, we made wild passionate love in the equipment room at
the back of the gym.
And, just before we climaxed in a frenzied, naked and sweaty embrace, ...
... I woke up from my nap on the couch.
This is when I got up, changed into my sweatpants and went to the gym for a
workout.
Categories:
sweatpants, lifeme, woman, me,
Form:
Narrative
I am the flower that lingers in your garden, fighting the ugly, prickly weeds that have choked the life and color from every other bloom.
I am a thick, downy coat that envelops you, providing the perfect barrier from icy winds of jealous betrayal and false gossip.
I am sweatpants and comfortable shoes, allowing you to relax and feel safe in a world full of Versace and Louboutins.
I am the gift you long for and most love to give, treasuring above all else this rare, precious gem that cannot be bought or sold.
I am the "true" before friendship, love, and commitment, bridging the gap between empty words and heart-felt devotion.
I am loyalty.
4/22/2016
Categories:
sweatpants, friendship, love, truth,
Form:
Free verse
Another true tom tale;
Not too long ago
I did really own
A pair of
Fruit of the Loom briefs,
One detined to make me groan
For sure, it had,
Seen a better day,
And up until this time
I now surely wonder why
I did not throw the damn thing away...
See, I wore them under
my sweatpants,
Turned out I would have preferred
To bear a nest of ants...
Ever try walking
With your shorts down
to your knee?
It's very much unpleasant
And a sight to see...
Your constantly grabbing
At your groin,
As if you were in pain,
Or perhaps you seem
One totally insane
And you walk like
You've stepped in a
bear trap,
Or maybe horsey-dung
When I finally got home
I'd see how far they could be flung
But in the meantime,
life was torture
I felt like such a fool
What was I thinking of?
I sure did not look cool...
I walked like a penguin,
With antsy-antsy pants,
Grabbing at my loin,
At every possible chance...
Stupid does as stupid is
I'll never doubt that fact
When I got home,
I ordered up a stack
Of brand new underwear
And that was not all
I ordered suspenders
To wear underneath
So my briefs don't fall!
Categories:
sweatpants, adventure, angst, funny, life,
Form:
Burlesque
Argh, I Ne'er Got Got Bran Did With...
A Muffin Top Before - Why Now!?
Impossible firm he (reed myth self)
to compete with Adonis, no way no chance
asthma gut busts over
waistband of sweatpants,
the choice couture,
asper this poet, who kant's
cease spewing regularly
(quotidian) raves and rants
years ago (another lifetime),
I partook of contra dance
sing, (and most casual suitable
place to find romance)
plus burn calories matter of fact,
a milieu to buff and enhance
physique, while simultaneously
kibitizing with great expanse
of pleasant gals and guys
one must not be afraid to prance
(albeit in accordance
with a caller on stage,
and maintain endurance)
synonymous with aerobic exercise,
and also act flirtatiously amorously glance
sing and/or stealing a French fried
kiss, yup dashing all
the way out to France,
yet returning just in time and proper,
or improper instance
all the while sustaining
the energetic activity over expanse
of a few hours (traditionally
held on Thursday evenings)
and for that block of time held in a trance,
asper...analogous to
spellbinding arrow or lance
suspended part way thru flight,
cuz all troubles troubles
temporarily melt away
which venue mentioned,
which small number of bucks one did pay
to participate among mine weekly highpoint,
where life liberty, and pursuit of happiness
which place this then akin to a cray
zee lee whirling dervish, did pine
to spruced himself up, and ready to hay
for four, thus sped without delay
this bag of lovely bones hapt tubby
more more trim, unlike
less physically fit body of today,
and scant finances find me find
foregoing joyfully
listening to musicians play
and healthily exhausted
with closing waltz,
thence out tummy car
yours truly did sashay!
Categories:
sweatpants, addiction, appreciation, celebration, environment,
Form:
Rhyme
Cartilage Cartridge Carthage
Spread my skin around your city limits
And sow these Dragon Teeth to reap my heart
Apple red lace, apple sweet lips, apple techie, apple allergy
Let's play Adam and Eve and make faces at the devil, because we own this Tree
My fingers plow the earth and pluck your laughter off of autumn branches made of purple ties and navy sweatpants,
water the butterfly's palm with these kisses and tether the sun to the pier so you can light up the day and night at
once.
Where I might somewhere be speaking birds out of my mouth, I'd much rather here have this butterfly land on my
lips and silence my.
Categories:
sweatpants, imagination, loveautumn,
Form:
Free verse
If mama could see me now, I’d say
You’d be jumping for joy
I used to stand tall on the old dusty chair next to the flower pot she used for an ash tray
I’d tell her, mama those flowers won’t grow like that
They need the dew drops that absorb the morning sun lights beams
Hair pulled back into a braid, I'd jump from house hold object to object
Playing kings and queens
She’d walk by kicking up lint balls so big,
I’d hold onto her feet, her sweatpants smelled of bad sex and old gin
Cleaning wasn’t her religion she used to say
Snow falling from her hand, is how I described it,
I’d tried to pretend it was Christmas
But everyone knows that the ash didn’t melt the same way
Mama, I’d ask her, tell me stories of your life.
Tears would run down her face as she cried all night
I would sit there holding up grocery bags of bottles but I never got through to her
The store tab was maxed out as they sold cigarettes and vodka for me to give to her
They knew me there, my age and all
She would just sit there yelling,
Acrylic nails tapping on the fake wooden table
Asking why I was late, and why my grades were unstable
The bruises I didn’t ask for, I called them body art
They twisted blue, green, and purple up and down my arm
Mama I’d tell her, please sing me to sleep.
She couldn’t hear me over the T.V and the new boyfriend that was passed out drunk as could be
I got older as her habits got worse
Then one day I left, silently into the night
I thought I was free and I would never come back
That’s my mama, I left all by herself.
In the battle of demons with no way out
Eventually I caved
And would visit her periodically, braid her hair, we would converse
But mama doesn’t hear me anymore, even less then before
That car that she crashed into, left her brain dead with so many scars
Mama I’d tell her, I’m getting married this week
I cried when she asked who I was, then said I should leave
I tried to give back, and pay what was owed to her
A good place to stay, warm food and clothes
She never gave any of these to me,
But her past was a mess and her future was worse
So what if she hurt me,
My love for her always came first
Categories:
sweatpants, abuse, addiction, appreciation, betrayal,
Form:
Rhyme
on confessional summer streets of city
the heat scums in like a churlish treacle
in back of the five and dime bodies drift by
cotton barely captures their hides of leather
mock they come feasting their eyes the uninspired the unenjoyed
skin like twined roe on inelegant hilltables of humping asphalt
the fullstomached and the barrenous
the stubblegaited and released obese
the adolescent chics swaddled in microshortshorts and sons and
daughters of their own walk on
sidewalks clotted with dirge
dry bubblegum bandages
and weeping condoms caked with sad and
botched hotdog stands and others hold hands
watching over out back of the fiveandime
clouds scuff in like oldtime washerwomen
scrubbing the spanknew parking meters
and all the cops are at the donut shops
notary publics down to the liquorstore
picking up twofours and molls awol from the junior high
and cocksure dudes drabbed in deadlettered sweatpants
cruising spineblown bars for commandment cheaters
in lunging games of catchascatchcan and
here
on Church Street
one young woman smiling arm in arm
with an elder mother set as a seal upon her heart
and all my transepts spires and bells
rejoice
Categories:
sweatpants, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
stop traffic and cause accidents
dudes try to holla whether I'm in stilettos or chancletas (flip flops)
fresh to def or on some "sweatpants, du- rag" bumish
I still get the attention
looks,stares and grins
on the bus or subway
even just going to do "compra" (grocery shopping) at the bodega
I get double takes
though I try to avoid the attention
I still get double takes from both men and women
Categories:
sweatpants, life
Form: