Avon’s lipsticks had many names
Cherry magic, strawberry wonder, chili pepper
This was the sixties
the goal was to have red lips
the more brazen the better
Behind the moon, where hunters hunt
In secret, the whiff of boiling lipsticks
Chastises the lungs of scorpions.
Murals hang on battered doors of
Decrepit banners, hoisted by dust-swept
Elements of colours –etched and painted.
Drums are sober, frightening withered
Hands that beat them to lean delirium.
Rotten eggs hatch on their own,
Their shells, white-toothed fragments of
Lost archives, posted with the obituaries
Of totems of muted art.
The silence on the moon haunts.
That on the back of the moon sears,
Sears incoherently,
All agonies of a wasted age with fires,
Moon fires, old and ravenous,
Which smelt the vagaries of a
Limitless anxiety.
Six months with six fond memories.
1. Helped correct the official document.
2. Taugh me to learn how to download songs and save my corrupted USB. Firmware and privacy apps like Conversations, KeePass and Gajim.
3. Three wonderful trips to my favorite beaches.
4. Inspired me to get back knitting, piano and started embroideries and poem writing.
5. Putting lipsticks on the pig which I see it every early morning.
6. Shopping, healthy meals preparating and consuming.
Then came the Lunar Calendar spirit month,
An official name of the Chinese
Calendar month of ghosts and evils,
On Lunar calendar 7th day of 7th month,
After you wrote "Thank You" replied to my message
"Good morning. On behalf of Chinese culture,
Wishing you Happy valentine day.
???????????????"
You shocked me with a ghosting friendship
And a cold blooded goodbye.
In the seventies lipsticks were beige, blah and nude
Dull, usually colorless and odorless, not to be rude.
Bright reds of the forties and fifties were passe’, out.
The lightest of peaches could be applied to a pout.
Women were expected to be straight up and down.
Twiggy at twenty, twenty, twenty, was paraded around.
Rubenesque chesty women were considered way out of bound.
Emaciated starving young models were the talk of the town.
For a consecutive 6 weeks,
You helped a project of "putting the lipsticks on the pig".
Has the fence not damaged by the strangers,
We would not have worked together.
You helped keeping me safe from outsiders,
Prevent people invading into my living quarters,
But, you had stolen the key to my heart's locker,
Made me seeing the fence as a reminder.
Let it bleed inside my mind,
It hurt all days and nights,
Despite I have tried,
The pain and heartache have not ended.
Remember those dots I used,
They were exactly how I felt at the time,
But did not know you well enough to share my inner feelings,
Should never have those feelings in the first place.
It was never your false,
You did not encourage nor give me any wrong messages.
It was me who was so vulnerable,
Growed an affection and invested emotion feelings on you.
I never blamed you terminated our friendship,
If there was any of it.
However. I loathed you for disrespecting me and discriminating me being part of dirty system.
stop signs and strawberries
lavish lipsticks and lovely lingerie,
ruby apples and scarlet satins
tasty tomatoes and tangy marinara sauces
cherries and cold cheeks
one of my favorite colors
bomber jacket, dark glasses
blown out hair,
faded jeans that fit me slim,
brown leather belt and shoes,
a dangling cigarette between lips,
is how I would fancy look!
Reality is something else,
and what I look is more like this…
A T shirt straight out of wash,
never seen the underside of iron,
crumpled to show how the machine spins!
trousers broad fit that struggle to stay
at the waist, with a belt that fails to grip,
the colours of these never match,
and the shoes are ones that were
quick to reach, and the result is a
riot of disagreeable colours!
who cares!!! That is me!
When I walk, my wife walks with me
separated by a hundred feet,
with her impeccable attire that
compliments every fraction of her,
with lipsticks to match!!
Style of clothing do not make a man
but they seem to make a woman!
Reality of life is mismatch of things,
that we learn to love and to live with!
That is why we have been married years!!
our distances in clothes is bridged by
our deep understanding and love for
each other! And when this love really
gets to work- we often discard our clothing!!
Thanks Giving Party
Roosters arranged thanksgiving party
inviting a big troop of Turkey.
Roasted pumpkin in menu.
Wide yard chosen as venue,
close -by their residence termed ' Poultry.'
Monkey was appointed as the chef.
Group of hens came prompt forward to help.
Mushrooms and corns to be grilled.
Hosts - guests tasted to be thrilled.
All danced joyous on rhythmic step.
On the pointed beaks, birds put lipsticks.
Turkeys wore shiny crown of plastics.
The family of roosters,
dressed smart in polyester.
Thanksgiving party ran fantastic.
They are like two beam lights that claim the stage
on a hot summer eve in the middle of a makeshift
floor parkette made of wood, varnish, and lights that aim
They are more than two American dollies dressed
in French lace and boudoir lipsticks
They are idols of the theater talking through
cables and conductive material.
The imagination of the viewers soar as they lose themselves
in the dark curtained stage, where reality has gone dormant
The only sound they hear is the tingly sounds
of unfolding fans made of feather and paper,
by the old vintage theater Madammes who cluck and gossip
in hushed tones when the first dolly gives the other dolly,
a soft kiss.
The End.
Her lipsticks lost some while ago;
thrown angrily into the bin.
Lips now bare, it wasn't such a blow,
she thought, taking her second Gin.
It's not right for my position
it made her look a tart, he said.
It's not much of a submission,
she thought, making the marriage bed.
Last year, he sold the second car
I'll take you where you need to be.
No need for me to travel far,
she thought, preparing evening tea.
The checks she signs are now declined
her credit card is cut in two,
A weight's been lifted from my mind,
she thought when serving him his brew.
You need to stay at home all week,
you know that is a woman's place.
I will; I'd better not misspeak,
she thought while staring into space.
You can repair that dress of yours
I need to buy myself a suit.
So what! I never go outdoors,
she thought. Then whispered, what a brute!
I changed tonight, of country, my friends,
I know a dirty girl from Tennessee,
More sparkling than a champagne cork,
With black rimmel and lipsticks on sale.
I changed countries last night, my friends,
I’d rather be a peasant than a townsman,
I prefer to say hello to donkeys and bees,
I found rhymes and silence in sweet California,
O Strange lands, birds understand me,
They tell stories to millennial trees,
I changed of country, my hats, poems,
I talk and dreams are an Oregon Indian,
Land of poetry, I cross without fear, railroads,
I don’t trust window cleaners and car washers,
Only poets can save you, my friends,
They let the horses run wherever they want.
I fully belong to Linguistics,
Literature for the joy that sticks:
The Sharp Poetry from its Drum Sticks
Writings one does and notes time that ticks…
Wholly I belong to Linguistics,
Though it lacks flattering lipsticks,
Not easy using its walking sticks:
Where you don’t watch and Word itself picks!
My Thesis on Pauseology,
My newer interest Tonology
And begging Dialectology;
Minds have in these boned big yawing holes
But still shall I score a handful goals!
His time’s Best Student of Linguistics
To methods adhering, no twists…
Here we go, I, Linguistic Guide:
If you fall behind, ‘Not a good ride.’
My hair is grey today,
And that's the way it will stay,
Unless I lose it,
That's a worry I'll delay.
I have a buzz haircut,
It's very short, but
needs little attention
If the rest ever falls out
It will hardly be worth a mention.
I'm not too fond of make-up,
Layered on my face
False eyelashes and beauty spots,
Are more than out of place,
Lipsticks do not flatter my ageing lips
I do wear lipgloss even though it sticks
my lips together, but it does not chip,
Like nail polish, which I found a chore,
That is the reason why I don't use it anymore.
Mascara, eyeshadow and foundation too,
Hair dyed in bright colours of every hue.
I think that at my age, I'll stay as I am,
Naturally old.
Not like mutton dressed as lamb!
Without it, some girls are just pale,
Girls use it to attract males,
Although it can be pretty,
Its history's a bit gritty,
Most lipsticks contain fish scales!
Ah, we ladies never have enough!
Foundations in all shades.
Forever~ in new forms.
Cleansers that promise us youth.
Softeners that hide wrinkles.
Lipsticks, a source of confusion.
Creamy, matte, or gloss?
For me, it is all delusion.
A rainbow of colors for my eyelids.
Is it really me I present?
Or a manufacturers's disguise.
4/21/2021
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.