I am always filamentlike ,
my hosiery is ripped knitwork
would you guard me ?
the seabed of macrame psychopathy will waiver .
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • July 13–19, 2026)
It was 1971, and I wore fish net stockings at the end of the school year
I had no garter belt so I used knots but they soon fell to my ankles, Oh Dear !
December 1, 2021
ps, This is a true story. My Aunt Annetta worked in a hosiery factory
she brought me some bright pink fish net socks and told me to wait
until mom bought me a garter belt. I was so eager to wear them
I did what all the grown women do, put knots in them. But as I
walked into the gymnasium, the stockings fell to my ankles.
I never forgot the embarrassing moment. Although
it seems quite funny today, it was quite a disaster back then.
Tempted by the light
Soft glowing silhouette with essence of smoldering legs
With blackness cover
Lace that lures the eyes
Fingers delicate touch unravel the hosiery
To release uncharted provocation
With flickering glow from candle lit glow across the silhouette it gaze
Red lips blowing kiss with wind swept drift to part lips
Laying near with caress of skin against the glow
Revealing sensual beauty to behold
What light reveals in darkness
When the glow of light shines so bold between two souls
Villages are true wealth
Of nature and sound health
Full of flora and fauna from
Village we get like a storm
Origin of cottage industry
Art and craft ceramic hosiery
Being a pollution-free abode
Secret to all mystery code
Now how has its status been
A desert barren with debris in
Urbanisation being enemy
It’s a threat to many a city
Cities now full of epidemics
Pollution and petty politics
Are haven and crime capitals
For the rapists and criminals
Real sufferer being village
For now it’s lost its edge
But real culprit being those
Who migrate to city pose
A great debacle of balance
Amid people and conscience
Other culprit unemployment
Causes rush to cities unrelent
Let’s go to our places own
Only to have skills hone
Start a venture and work
Let’s on mission embark
Have patience and zeal
To start life in village to heal..!
Let’s save our villages first
Or else we have regret next..!!
Entire fiscal deposits being
Spent on flyovers, roads ring
Gives a picture of mother
Feeding a son at the cost of another
Can somebody save farmers in village
Without whom empty will be storage.!!
PYRRHIC EVOLUTION
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
There once was a time in this great land
When folks said “ yes sir” and “yes maam”
Those days are ancient, eroded away
Where are we headed, I’m afraid to say
A time when the elderly were respected
A time when vulgar language, not accepted
A time when women were fully attired
A time when patriotism; a virtue admired
We now live in era where anything goes
Hard to distinguish colleagues from foes
Every one has picked an agenda to defend
Voices are silenced: afraid they may offend
Folks are traumatized, by a word or a look
Students sickened, by the title of a book
Authority’s role is constantly questioned
Four letter words constantly mentioned
A well dressed man wore a suit with a tie
Now an unbuttoned shirt will get you by
Women wore hosiery, blouse and a skirt
Cutoffs, flip flops, physical assets overt
Many now change their biological gender
Crude, obtuse: replaced warm and tender
Technical advances slowly eroding creeds
Obscuring civility with vexatious deeds
High heeled leather pumps; the best will only do
In all different styles and colors; the most brilliant of hues
Gorgeous diamond jewelry; a temptation not to resist
Hone my very essence and surely enhance my wrists
Managing hair appointments; a color and highlight is a must
Angelic to the naked eye; beauty is what we lust
Imperfections not visible; expensive makeup applied to disguise
Neiman Marcus and Marshal Fields; fully stocked with vital supplies
Tanning bed awaits; a special bronzer first I must get
Enriched with vitamins and minerals; top shelf purchase let’s not forget
Nylons hosiery and lingerie; Victoria’s Secret now exposed
A variety of silk and satins; frilled with lacy garnished bows
New car smell in the air; a fast sporty convertible is what I seek
Candy apple red with adorning leather seats; all which I bespeak
Exhausting idea of being a perfect wife; beauty's the weakness on this path of life
© Stacy Lynn Stiles
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