Paired with a sweater
Featuring stitches
With long deep pockets
Welcomed everywhere
Popular trousers
Wash and wear them
No ironing
Fold hang or roll
Comfortable
Casual
Overalls
Dungarees
Denim
Cotton
Jeans
Sometimes, I follow faded stars at night,
That whisper ancient secrets as they stray,
Across the sable dome, their gentle light
Guiding lost ships while shadows kept at bay.
Flickering soft, their memories grown old,
Yet draw my gaze along their winding trail,
To dreams half-spoken, stories left untold,
And wishes lost to winds that never fail.
In those silent hours, longing fills the sky,
My heart adrift, still searching worlds afar;
Each distant gleam a question—why, oh, why
Must I pursue what only leads to scar?
Yet, though they fade, I chase those stars above,
For even fading light can kindle love.
blue jeans grandma with a plaid shirt
three days wearing them, she has dirt
not persnickety in any way
happily grungy every day
Appealing blues
Indigo skies, striking eyes
Cobalt harmonizing
Falling into glowing hues
Dazzling azure
Sturdy and fervent, breathing
strength beyond gentle songs
Tough as a lonesome cowboy
Howard thought holes in his jeans was fashionably in style
He tore them all down the pants leg, wearing a smile
His mother told him he could not leave the house on his horse
Unless he wore long underwear, and he did it of course
He was glad he did, for these holes were in the wrong places
He had torn the holes in his jeans in some mighty weird spaces
Someone said how lovely the orange was showing through
Come see me tomorrow he told her, I’ll be wearing blue
The Pantheon, The Jeans In Song, .... Create!
Is Fields and Wheels
That Only Spring, Time,
.... Makes!
Blue jeans surround me
blue jeans all around me
Blue jeans everywhere I look
blue jeans in every store and shuk * *open-air marketplace, bazaar
Chicago, Houston, Detroit, L.A.
China, Russia, Canada and Paraguay
Barbeques, even fine dining
Blue jeans, all occasions defining
Creased, faded, ripped or lean
on the farm or in Times Square
Blue jeans always make the scene
No matter the decade or the year
~ blue jeans are what the people wear
Jeans were invented
Meant to be taken all day
Not to striptease.
1950’s wear
teenage boys loved them
less scraped knees for sure
girls wanted them too
they can be frayed
dressy or plain
embroidery them
or add some lace
solid blue
workman pants
dungarees
daily
denim
jeans
Stains on my shirt
holes in my pants
My wardrobe’s Salvation Army
not quite Paris, France
I cry all night
grief fills my lips
While the other kids
wear the latest ripped
Jeans, for which they paid
a fortune each, though poorly made
My threads cost nothing, my life’s a sham
better to be naked than what I am …
O, Lord, let this poor soul know
that life is long, there’s a ways to go
When he’s ninety-seven, no one will care
if the jeans on his knees were not threadbare
There’s a pair
Of jeans
That he can’t
Bring himself
To wash
Because the jeans
Still smell
Like Sri Lanka,
The sand
And the ocean,
The blood
And the sweat
And the tears,
The beauty
Of it all.
I'd really like to take a pee
in the river and the sea
The only way I can be me
unzip my jeans and let it be
++ November's treasure ++
Mississippi Queen look she's no movie-star
She's always just been the Led Zeppelin swan song
As thin a beam shone bright from a lovers plight
My Moon-beam hits 28 in morrow
She'll say goodbye to that club
Gods in blue jeans spandex was never as cultured
vingt sept
It all doesn't matter if you don't read
Frankenstein's letter
Wait until the worms are all gone
Should be by around quarter to One
Frosted eyes a night light flickers
Saying the moons too bright
The dogs all think we know
Except for the hounds that led you straight down to Hell
Twenty seven
Mortal sleeping city yell
Mirrored images trapped inside a fractured lens
Opening the door for some story to tell
Reaction distraction competitive inimical contraption
Into the minutes where black holes collide
Sent with a message to other alien life.
Treasures explored a life of love implored
Why does it always led to women
And why do I want so bad
big butt skinny jeans hoping blue is slimming rip what was i thinking
Written 9/25/23 for What was I thinking contest
Sponsor John Lawless
No! The blue jeans screamed. We do not stretch that far!
The people driving by began laughing it up in the car.
They had seen the old woman who had eaten a moon and a star.
She waddled into the house clutching a huge candy bar.
Please no! The blue jeans screamed as she sat on the bed.
She pulled off her sweatpants and swiveled her head.
I bet these blue jeans will not split she said to her man.
He dared not even look as the jeans’ torment began.
She slid them to her knees, but they would not go over.
Come lick my legs a bit, she suggested to her good dog Rover.
She tried the best she could, but she could not get them up.
Guess we will not split today! One leg said to the pup.
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