Best Wardrobes Poems


Lottery Winner Helps Homeless

As I walked into the banquet hall of the 
 Goodman’s Inn, the first thing that stood
 out to me were the eyes of the people. I
 felt as though I could actually see hope. Eyes 
 seemed to sparkle and everyone in the hall
 sat talking to the others sitting around them
 as they waited for the main course of the evening. 
 To understand this report we need to go back just 
 over a year ago when Lindsey Long won the 50 
 million dollar lottery. Apparently the multimillionaire 
 booked the Goodman’s Inn for December 24th through 
 to January 2nd of this year solely to house the homeless 
 over the Christmas holidays. Miss Long walked through 
 the streets herself over the last week inviting the 
 unfortunate homeless to come to the motel for these      
 festivities. Lindsey Long has not only provided the rooms 
 for this week, she also has clothed them with new 
 wardrobes and warm winter clothing and accessories.
 Now as the people sat around the table they were
 told Miss Long had an announcement. We all waited 
 to hear what this amazing lady had to say
 and excitement filled the room. When this 
 beautiful young woman began to talk there
 wasn’t one dry eye in the building. She told them 
 how she was not going to just send them back
 on the street next week but how she had
 built a new centre that would have sleeping
 facilities and showers to accommodate all
 of them. This new facility will be serving 
 three meals a day which will be prepared solely 
 from themselves on a voluntary bases. 
 The feeling in the Inn that night was pure joy
 and as the people realized the impact of this
 wonderful news, they all broke out singing
 It Came Upon a Midnight Clear. This is 
 Rhonda Reeds reporting for 
 The Good Newspaper.
 Merry Christmas everyone.

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
11.12.2014
Sponsor Mystic Rose
The Good Newspaper 
1st

Premium Member Wintertime

Set to the tune of 'Edelweiss'  from The Sound of Music

Wintertime, wintertime
Evergreens don festive wardrobes

Ivory
Christmas Eves
Swirl in peppermint snowglobes

Magical mirrors of lakes to skate
Taste snowflakes
On our tongues

Wintertime, wintertime
Keep my heart warm
Til spring comes.

12/02/21

Poem of the Day
December 4th, 2021

Returning Invitation

Hidden reservation site,
Buried behind wardrobes of femininity.
Aged wooden metal chest,
Handed over by grandparents.
Containing matters,
Yester-innocent,
Tears weeping melodies on pink white ribbons of little girl's wearing.
Matching dress of lovely splendor,
Mr. Teddy tucked under,
Barbie slumber in all this,
Ken waiting for hope in joy kid.
Tea set with long passed memory gone beneath blanket of protection.
Thinking words gave her mother this reply as a teen,
"I am not an infant any longer, womanhood is mine."
Knees found,
Floor one,
Spending the peaceful night in journeying,
Rearward season of past.
Heart returns from crystal dusty fragment of no end count,
Swept by hopeful faith of mending broken back in place,
Union,
Beat of one,
Soul restored.
Sudden darkness wintry,
Reminder frosty,
"Lovers come & gone."
"Children all grown up."
"Bill collectors cannot wait, daydreams will not pay them off."
Laughter howling scream touches her skin in goose bums fear.
Than One,
Enter in overcoming cloudy reignful thoughts of black,
"Still listening to the wrong god, of this world."
"Who do you think lead your heart to opened the memory box blessed?"
"Returning calls you home my dear child of Mine."


An Obvious Need

“Dear Lord and Savior, hear my plea.
I've one request - wait, two or three....
This time though, I'm in a fix,
so maybe there'll be five or six....

Please answer quickly, hear me now
and I'll pray daily - that's my vow.
Unlike before, please don't postpone,
for really Lord, You should have known.

I've sacrificed so much for You,
for years been nagged by 'you know who'....
The children too, yell at the spouse -
we really need a larger house....

My boat is bleached from Your hot sun
so I really need a brand new one.
My wardrobes full - but can't wear those,
for Heaven knows I need new clothes.

You know I just went out to eat,
‘all I could eat' - wow, what a treat -
topped it off with cream and cake -
so take away my stomach ache.

I've tried so hard to lose some weight,
from all this fat that You create....
I feel so tired and weak somehow,
so give me strength - I need it now.

Oh, thank You for my new guitar,
my brand new camper, one more car,
but vacation's what I really need -
roller coasters, lots of speed.

You are so great. I know You care,
so answer now, my simple prayer.
These aren't mere words, these are my needs
and if You grant, I've more good deeds....

There's so much more I'd ask of You,
with credit cards long overdue....
But you, dear Lord, must surely know,
the fish are biting.  I must go.

I only ask for what I need.
These are not 'wants' so please proceed.
Stay close to me.  I'll call again.
Please grant me what I need, Amen.”

©2007 louis gander - www.ganderpoems.org

Fame

Inspired and dedicated to the famous, to the Royal families, to the actors and actresses, and pop stars, who live lives of Uncharishable Fame.

"Fame is a struggle and the lives that surround it are not happy." - Christopher Boskovski

Fame, have you ever walked down the streets of stars?
Have you stood on a stage with a beam of spotlight on you
at center stage, delivering a sweet monolouge of peace and love?

Fame, do you know how it feels to be followed along city streets,
and bustling cafes by flashing lights, and Poperazzi?
You strike a pose, you sign an autograph, and you are late for a dinner reservation.
You grow dark, and hungry and you seem not so happy,
but yet you smile?

Fame, do you like to be famous?
Is it a fun life to live?
Somedays living in Mansions and others out of the suitcase.
Somedays eating lobster by the bay, and others, cold pizza on Saturday.

Are you misreable, not knowing the womanthat you love, loves you back, or loves your
wallet that is so fat?
Books upon books of love poems staked towers of romance that scrambles your brain,
and leaves you with tears of sorrow in your eyes.

Fame, enough of the fake smiles
and red carpet wardrobes and be true to yourself.
Stop and smell the morning roses that bloom,
walk through the parks with smiling faces on every corner,
before all that beauty goes away.
Fame you don't see color, you see black and white.
Contracts, nothing about love, only about wages.
Live life, before everything around you dies.

Be happy and true.
I ask you fame,
come away from your money and expensive cars and cell phones
and live life, instead of living a fabricated one.

Read a book of poetry,
that shows true beauty.
Stop making yourself happy, reading tabloid viewings,
in morning newspapers of yourself.
Look in the mirror and smile.

Fame, I tell you now, you are not happy.
Come with me
take my hand, and sail with me.
For Fame, I shall show you a golden dream in reality.

A Criminal Child

A criminal child.

    


    A criminal child,what could be more annoying?
    Daily he fails the excellence of the cradle:
    His school fee he spends in beer parlour
    The hostel bill he  lavishes in the city casino,
    The cheque for books he exchanges in brothel.

   A criminal child,what could be more annoying ?
   He joins his gang to rob and flog his dad,
   He loots mum’s wardrobe for precious jewel,
   He goes under his mask and rapes his sister,
   He prays daily for their deaths to take control.

   A criminal child, what could be more annoying ?
   He turns his father to tenant in the house he built,
   He turns his mother to a staff in the firm she owned,
   He makes their cars memories of things of past,
   Their wardrobes now rags like falling banana leaves.

   A criminal child, what could be more annoying ?
   Every knock at the door takes them to firing square :
   Police they think, what again could he have done ?
   He puts tears on father’s cheeks hour by hour
   He implants sorrow in mother’s heart everyday.

  A criminal child, what could be more annoying  ?
  The prime’s toils  he squeezes down the drain,
  Though like horses they run, they lose the race ,
  While they snore in dreams, their waking hour is void;
  What can be more annoying than antics of a criminal child?



User’s name     : Kayod5.
Contest’s name: What annoys you.
Sponsor            : Frank H.


A Clever Robot

He has created a clever robot
He orders it and it responds

“Write for me a poem”, it does
“Compose for me love letter”, it does
“Scribble for me an abuse”, it does

Clever and obedient the robot is
But one thing it cannot do
Feel emotions as human beings

The clever robot the merchant abused
“You are foolish”, it replies, “Thank you”
“You’re a baboon”, it replies, “Thank you”
“You’re a nothing”, it replies, “Thank you”

Clever and obedient the robot is
But one thing it cannot achieve-
Feel emotions as human beings

That day man will make a robot
One that can feel emotional
The one with personality traits
Humans will hide in wardrobes

Premium Member Tristich Again

Wardrobes, full of clothes,
crossstitch cluttered walls-
her shadow still clouds my mind


TRISTICH IS A PARALLEL VERSE(Inspired by Hebrew Biblical parallels) it comprises  L1 theme L2 ECHO of theme L3 Punchline/observation

You may hear me recite this tristich and more of my PS poetry on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro

All of Them Asking About You

Give birth to the sun the day
asked about you
When the evening
Reflected the light of the moon from your window
asked about you
The birds, which you left them with thirsty
asked about you
The clouds and the sea at sunset
All of them asking about you
Your cat meowing next to a your statue in the lobby of the House
Your bed empty
Wardrobes
All of them asking about you
Death does not take... only .... who loved them

Mad For Plaid

I love to see a person clad
In skirt or sweater made of plaid.
A shirt or scarf works just as well;
No stripes or dots can parallel.

In Scotland, once, I went to see
A mammoth Tartan factory.
Each pattern has a special name
And certain ones have gained acclaim.

My closet has a wide selection,
Plaids I wear with great affection.
Wardrobes must be really Spartan
If they lack at least one Tartan!

Empty Bed

Empty bed, hollowed pillow
the scent where you once slept
early morning sunshine softens the rain
marbled reflections diffuse through the window pain

scant memories of you in your red dress
re surge into a room where you were once caressed
there we had so much, nothing complicated, just trust
a trust for excitement, energy and living on the cusp

the bed covers pulled away as if you had just awoken
quite, yes, there is silence not a sound or word that is spoken
a vista captured in time's vaults like the scene of a crime
your presence is here in the ambiance, in the eye of my mind

the suns rays break with strength through the clouds retreat
shadowing the windows frames on wardrobes and sheets
specs of dust hover, caught in the galore, it was more than an affair
our lust was magnificent, we cared, we shared with in inventive flair

unman-aged, we suddenly realized lust had become love
torrid sessions with expectations to reach levels above 
become sessions of gentle, sensuous and explicit set
gradually the souls, hearts and minds the other did infect

tied to partners we could not be a pair
love plays games and they are not always fair
i come to your room but today our love has lost all hope
i find you absent just your body and a simple note
"i could not cope"

Trying To Remember 2010

You made me wear his jacket
To keep me from the cold
As I ushered in the mourners
I cried in fear of the thought
Of his death touching my skin
A feeling of deep sorrow and guilt
I locked myself in Rachael’s room
Hanging his coat on the back of her door
I prayed for them to wait
''Please lord let them all wait''
We were just not ready (or was that just me?)
And yet I open the door to find
These memories have passed
Taking you now with them
I’m not sure exactly where your grave lies
I’m certain next to him in his Sunday best
Placed mid dream faced turned to happiness
Unaware that now I am left
Scrambling through wardrobes
In second hand stores
Hunting out the jacket I once had left 
on the back of a door to a room
In a house 
full of waiting mourners
If only for one nuzzle, a spark of memory
To take me further back, than the end.

Premium Member Love's Memories a Structured Prose Trilogy -Recited-Part 2

LOVE’S MEMORY-A STRUCTURED PROSE
Two hearts as one,with love held dear,
each others secrets to confide,needs and
desire to never hide,love-lines to share,
tribulations together to bear.Each other
in submission lean,sacramental in unison
of love’s mutual bond.


INNOCENT NAIVETY-A STRUCTURED PROSE
Love has no boundaries in its heart,
in its passion holds all things dear,
giving all,trusting without fear.Flowers
of mutual fusion,incensed,by aromas
of love.The attraction of natural magnetism
is sealed in perfect harmony inherent
and universally held.Again,again this
siren’s call beckons loves innocent
naivety,rose-tinted,short-sighted
views distort perspective out of true.

A DOMESTIC STRUCTURED PROSE
Her cardigan on the chairback,
shoes left in the hall,slippers ‘neath
the double bed,undies on the stool.
Handbag filled with this and that,
bathroom shelved of creams and
much besides;wardrobes,wall to
wall.Medicines boxed ,arranged so neat,
cellphone ready for a call,a text,
a chat,a listening ear,empathy to all.

Listen to me recite these structured prose on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro

I Saw the Devil Falling Asleep Without Waking

i saw the devil as doubt and my mind relaxed and recoiled at the thought eyes studiously staring at each flaw finding reason to turn away realizing that all along it was an illusion that kept me awake at night and daydreaming out of the side of my eye fast shadows fly as i pray to Jesus for salvation the quiet tears dreams of reptiles without a plot searching with their tongues for flesh i open my eyes in the darkness of morning body aching hardly able to rise my left hand cramping fingers curled in pain i turn on the lights their soft electric pulse vibrates in my chest the sun is still sleeping but the clock keeps on reading one more minute after another decades dying in my memories measured in other people and their opinions changing with my words and worn clothes clashing with all they possess paradise lost in their eyes glued to phones unaware of how the wind moans every generation changing wardrobes fading into histories of war in the ceaseless hunt for increase in pleasure and wealth begging for health fighting the decay that occurs day to night afraid of falling asleep without waking
© Alex Roth  Create an image from this poem.

B,B

Beauty's Beast.

Well I'm looking but I don't see.
A little here a little there
I even looked under the stair.
In the wardrobes and chest of drawers.
I even scrutinised the floors
but look I did and could not find
am I stupid, am I blind.
You say you left it by my chair.
Well I'm sorry  to say it's just not there.
I'm flabbergasted to say the least
but I think your wrong Beauty,
there is no Beast.

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