Now this is rather shocking
But I saw a fish in fishnet stockings
In the south of France
It did a dance
But its knees kept on a-knocking.
Here is my fishnet
I have a habit
I make collection of moments
I
Long
To
Capture
A
Moment.
The blackboard waited stark and bare
As yet, there was no teacher there
A striding vision, took the chalk
You know… I recognised that walk
Miss Malone’s Dulcet tones
Sent a shudder through my bones
Her flowing hair with blonde highlights
Her mini skirt and fishnet tights
The way she stood with feet spread wide
And the purpose in her stride
I gave my mate a little nudge
His loving gaze just wouldn’t budge
I said, “Forget your lurid thoughts,
We’re barely out of schoolboy shorts.”
He nodded at her crimson lips
The wiggle in her swaying hips
I said, “You’re fourteen, feeling flirty,
That there teacher’s nigh on thirty!”
He said, “I’ve heard her name is Maisie,
She makes me feel all oops-a-daisy”
I said, “She’s glam, that much is true,
But truly, she ain’t right for you.”
It seemed he thought me quite remiss
And so I had to tell him this,
“She seems quite able in her job
But last week, Miss Malone… was Bob!”
A Buffed Male Body walks along the beach
A Female watch
Her eyes like a fishnet catch
Summer heat warmth in the urges
Sweat pouring down the male buffed body
If he were to pose, the Female would faint
The sand and roaring ocean making the observation more distinct and intrigue
A push back would soon be Give in
The Female was thinking about a splash into the ocean
She would want that Buffed Guy to be her Lifeguard and give her mouth to mouth
Yet the hot sun is not making it easy
The Female is picturing in her mind of thought in censorship
Moment
Just imagine a Herculean Male Body and a Female curve with all the moves turning up the volume
Summer has already started ahead of schedule
The Female wants that Buffed guy in her own Beach module
Time to split
Raised up gooseflesh dipped in metal,
a shiver runs right down my spine;
Every emotion they enshrine,
somehow the scream helps me settle;
Please hit that double bass pedal,
I’ll throw you a devil horn sign;
Raised up gooseflesh;
They view me as the jezebel,
a black fishnet flavored outline;
With a head bang everything’s fine,
healing factor with no equal;
Raised up gooseflesh.
Dirty martinis and Cuban cigars
Fishnet stockings on hookers Playing my guitar.
Long days at the beach
Women without wedding rings
Making a list of my favorite things
Sex before Breakfast
Out running the cops
A judge that grants bail
Then getting bailed out.
Books by Sandra Cisneros
And Renaissance Art,
All of these things have a special place in my heart
But when the bars close
And I'm still sober
My dealer doesn't answer the phone
I think on these things
To keep from getting pissed off
And I express how I feel
in a poem.
Rock n' Roll music and classic cars
Rockford Files reruns
Deep cuts that leave scars
My probation officer not making me drop
Dive bars bad girls and musty bookshops
A day at Wrigley
Watching the Cubs
Cool Tucson mornings
And falling in love
The sound of my children's laughter
and the first day of spring
What an exceptional life I've had to be part of all these things.
But when I'm hungover
And I've got warrants
Or when my car breaks down
I think about all of my favorite things
And haul my butt out of town
JSB
Where stockings of fishnet hung by the tree,
Old Santa grew giddy, blushing with glee,
For the madam explained
"If your drive's not too waned,
The one-you-pick's owner won't charge the fee."
November 17, 2022
A Fun Holiday Limerick Poetry Contest,
Tania Kitchin, sponsor
The Rocky Horror Picture Show ~ Starring Tim Curry as Dr. Frank-N-Furter,
Content Warning: Schlock Horror
Elements of the unintentional humor of B horror
Ripped fishnet stockings, glitter, and a shapely contour
A kitschiness and campiness that seems to be winking at you
Shades of burlesque, cabaret broad and a bawdy review
Glam era, British popular culture “Glam Rock”
Working title, They Came from Denton High provoked talk
All the while filming took place during autumn
Seductive sequined gold swallow-tail coat slit on the bottom
A tribute to many a horror movie from the 30’s, a parody
And the science fiction genre threw the 70’s exuding hilarity
From concept to cult, the grin and the guile
A classy campy clown, red ruby lips, and a flashy smile
The midnight showing at the Vogue Théâtre, you’d find us there
A classic musical-comedy and bone-chilling delight we’d share
Remembering Tim Curry RIP 1946-2026
Mr. John is a jolly fisherman
Paddling his boat with single hand
His other hand holds a fishing rod
On hook are worms from peapods
Baiting only the bean-like cods.
Mr. John went fishing yesterday
He threw his fishnet on the bay
When pulled it back
He thought he was having a rock
But then, he caught a big shark!
Mr. John went back to the lake
For his safety’s sake
Whistling while fishing
Lake was so cool and calming
His fishing rod got a crocodile -- hanging!
Mr. John went back to the river
Singing, dancing in his boat like Justine Bieber
Unaware of the log of beavers
Boat capsized. He plunged into the water.
Mr. John moved to his own fishpond
His fishing day was so much fun
After putting some fish traps
Big and small fishes jumped into his lap
Giving him a loud and hearty laugh.
Mr. John is a jolly fisherman
Paddling his boat with single hand
His other hand holds a fishing rod
On hook are worms from peapods
Baiting only the bean-like cods.
Aug 23,2022 9.24pm
A Jolly Fisherman Poetry Contest Enter
Sponsor: Julia Ward
Bistro blowhards jump around in Johnny time
Bota bing bota bang Bota bang bota bing.
Dendrites are clicking, where did they get teeth?
Who invited them anyway? Gray matter coughs.
Fishnet stockings fairly frolic along my brain highway.
My soul shuts herself off, not wanting involvement.
I am on pizazz power; polka dotted persimmon pot pie.
No one better ask me anything or even give me a look.
What’s happening? My eyes wonder. They are on fire.
My throat is tight, wearing a girdle of ridiculousness.
I keep my mouth in a straight line, figuring out nothing.
Sharing no secrets or ideas, closing down for self-protection.
To make a bed, you must tighten your hold,
Tuck in the corners and tend to the fold,
Smooth out the blankets and straighten the line.
Like a geisha serving up two cups of wine,
She may promise her laughter is free,
But what’s in it for me?
To find the truth, you should look toward the light;
Make a solemn intention to practice what’s right.
If the lady’s a mystic, you must understand,
She’s out on the prowl for a gullible man.
She'll take a tarot crystal yoga point of view,
But what’s in it for you?
To find my way, I just opened my eyes,
Tossed back the covers, dismissed the disguise.
Gold diggers dangle their fishnet allure,
And sirens do carnival tricks down the shore.
There may be seven wonders left to see,
But what’s in it for me?
To break a bed, you just lighten the load,
Turn down the covers and take up the road.
If sincerity danced on the head of a pin,
There’d be many times more than what she had within.
Compassion fatigue was her balm for my PTSD.
What was in it for me?
What was ever in it for me?
She held my hand till the money ran out.
Then she did.
(a turtle creation story)
Turtle flexed his jaws
as hard as secateurs.
Monkey-See saw
flew up the slippery trees
mimicking
the snapping sound
above the mealy ground.
It was the first Saturday night
and most of the good things,
and most of the mischief
had been sown hours before
but monkey-see knew there would be more.
Fishnet Tights,
the first last-born lady
was crying softly
not knowing why she was weeping and wet.
Her buttery bosoms heaved – we the proto
air-breathing zoo-lings all saw
and most of the swarm grieved
through their embryonic nostrils.
Turtle explained her woe
by opening wide his scything mandible.
When she looked down in it,
Fishnet-Tights saw, red and chortling,
in that ancient maw
his bobbing Adams Apple.
It was then that she became with kids
those troubled knuckle-heads,
the fabled Cain and Abel.
Monkey-See let out a howl
that flew from tree to tree top.
All the scaly birds knew
something big was up.
Turtle winked,
then slept for an eon or two
until all the zoonotic creatures
plumped up - and grew.
Remind me of Shirley McClain
And damned Yankees
And she didn’t even wear them in that musical
But she had the attitude of the fishnet stockings
Torn and tattered they give a new feeling
Sad, cheap, ugly which saddens me a bit.
For in the sixties they were the thing
We girls could not wait to wear them
We had patterned hose of all kinds
Knitted like fishnet, some in flowers
Fishnet brings back the sixties
Reminding me of being fifteen
Hoping someone would notice my legs
at a dance
I’ve got size ten feet, you know what that implies
Maybe that's why there’s a spark in her eyes
She said if I give her a hand ’round the house
She’ll give me a naughty surprise
She held out a costume I’d not seen before
Though I stood there hoping I’d see it much more
Sweet Jesus, I think its a sexy french maid
She said, ‘Wanna play?’ Well, I could be swayed
Oh God, fishnet stockings and white ruffled knickers
My eager mind’s racing, It’s all Tarts and Vickers
Those pointy stilettos, the apron and hat
I’m gagging to see my sweet baby in that
It looks a bit large, the size slightly wrong
Who gives a damn... it won’t be on long
That PVC skirt falls short of ‘discreet’
But why are those shoes made for size ten feet?
THINGS WITH STRINGS
Spider's web, strings of stars,
a weaver's loom, and old guitars.
Balls of yarn, and DNA,
string bikini, and crochet.
Cats cradle, spools of thread,
Tails on kites, and hairs on head.
Theory in music, or in science,
together making a string alliance.
Yo-yo, and Pinocchio,
harp, violin and cello.
Catgut bow, and strings of cheese,
or whiskers on a prized Siamese.
Silly String, and G-string,
an strings of birds on wing.
Math strings, "No strings attached,"
a roof that's been heather thatched.
String quilts, strings of pearls,
strings that tie to locks of curls.
Music staff, and balls of twine,
and tendrils from a sweet pea vine.
Heart, balloon, and aprons too,
and laced up in a tennis shoe.
Garland, hamstring, and quartet,
strings on fingers to not forget.
Braided rings, and strings of lights,
pulling strings, and fishnet tights.
Telephone string through tin cans,
woven blankets and knit afghans.
Brown paper packages tied up in string,
needle, lanterns, and wind chimes that sing.
Drawstring, bowstring, and baby's pull toy,
string, strung, and stringing, we're all overjoyed.
By Edlynn Nau
© January 25, 2015
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