Long Brassiere Poems
Long Brassiere Poems. Below are the most popular long Brassiere by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Brassiere poems by poem length and keyword.
Note: "How can there have been such strife in a Morlde` filled with beautiful Music; &
how could there have been beautiful Music such in a Morlde` filled with strife?" -Soupy
Sales, 2012.
The 12 Panes Of Christmas:
_____________________________________________________________________________
___
- XMAS' RADOTER -
Yule be Xmas
afore ye know
the pag'an go
for patterned
stamped snowflakes
'bove the
Andy Williams' Shows
DVD Stufftaculate CD,
Away, In A Manger For The Happy Employees,
drivelings (no place like) home
for the Hollydayease
in
a Ford Barricade & SUG Thirsty,
Nay, the new GM Bailout.
Suffer
the little Children
new bornes, infants
what nary see
but a Semi-Claus
ere
semiclaws,
tithes for the celibre-cause craws.
Remembrances
to things past-past, of
natal assemblies
en callow chorale masse
gone
Proustikipped,
to mortitorium's
N'well
& stockings filled
with
the chimney's cold care
yet in hopes
das Geheimnis Viktoria
would
somehow brassiere...
rout despair
the Tree hovers
Cabbage Patch? Nay!,
but the oft'splayed
Perry Como - You Win!,
Get to poke Golgotha pins -
WakeUp, boorros!
Bing-Bing!
WakeUp!, Jokers
to the St. Jack Nihilis...
but ya wanna
bat 'n ball this 'round?
You a'ready donned Santa,
with a semi-
Dear G*d,
(Walsch also asked)
How're You doin' It, &
Your Son?...Tarnished
proof weighdown here, filled
with
vanilla, frozen grins &
Joyburdened smiles...
'neath
pattern-stamped snowflakes &
piney Glade heads
afore the marshed desert
Koyaanisqatsi
Like yearlings'
trotted-out
Saviormusic
whilst the other 333
like
666 -
doubled for toil 'n trouble -
employed
to savaging
One, many, or 'nother...
Christmas partidges'
riffeled feathers family?
pared, unprepaired,
Indeed, vouchsafed
an enemy sans name
on
a horse with no name, save
Internecine
AmeriKa.
For
A kiss 'neath
the mistlesilo
whilst acaroling
of the Bedlamites
(Acts, II: 2-6),
the Psalming 100?,
Screeching
like sleds in pit gravel to
the Silent Night
HeyMen!
There lies
an evergrander Light
at the Dawn, but
Hey!,
who's gonna
tear-away
from
Yawnni,
& the extra-Vaganza
of
Truth?
H.e.m.
12.13.MMviii.
(ST)
Erotic Errata
by Michael R. Burch
I didn’t mean to love you; if I did,
it came unbid-
en, and should’ve remained hid-
den!
***
Less Heroic Couplets: Marketing 101
by Michael R. Burch
Building her brand, she disrobes,
naked, except for her earlobes.
***
Negligibles
by Michael R. Burch
Show me your most intimate items of apparel;
begin with the hem of your quicksilver slip ...
***
Warming Her Pearls
by Michael R. Burch
for Beth
Warming her pearls,
her breasts gleam like constellations.
Her belly is a bit rotund ...
she might have stepped out of a Rubens.
***
Cover Girl
by Michael R. Burch
Cunning
at sunning
and dunning,
the stunning
young woman’s in the running
to be found nude on the cover
of some patronizing lover.
In this case the cover is a bed cover, where the enterprising young mistress is about to be covered herself.
***
First Base Freeze
by Michael R. Burch
I find your love unappealing
(no, make that appalling)
because you prefer kissing
then stalling.
***
Nun Fun Undone
by Michael R. Burch
for and after Richard Thomas Moore
Abbesses’
recesses
are not for excesses!
***
Less Heroic Couplets: Sex Hex
by Michael R. Burch
for and after Richard Thomas Moore
Love’s full of cute paradoxes
(and highly acute poxes).
Published by *Asses of Parnassus, Lighten Up Online* and *Poem Today*
***
Retro
by Michael R. Burch
Now, once again,
love’s a redundant pleasure,
as we laugh
at my childish fumblings
through the acres of your dress,
past your wily-wired brassiere,
through your panties’ pink billows
of thrill-piqued frills ...
Till I lay once again—panting redfaced
at your gayest lack of resistance,
and, later, at your milktongued
mewlings in the dark ...
When you were virginal,
sweet as eucalyptus,
we did not understand
the miracle of repentance,
and I took for granted
your obsessive distance ...
But now I am happily unbuttoning
that chaste dress,
unhitching that firm-latched bra,
tugging at those parachute-like panties—
the ones you would have gladly forgotten
had I not bought them in this year’s size.
Originally published by Erosha
Mandy, am I right in thinking you wear a brassiere.
We just call them bra’s, Paul, cuts out the middleman, and as you can see, yes.
Right, is there any chance I could borrow one of your bra’s.
Most guys go for the knickers, why do you want a bra.
I want to put something in it.
That is gross, no wonder Jenny dumped you.
She didn’t dump me for that.
So what is it then, are you obsessed with my breasts.
No, I’m not obsessed with your breasts.
Why not, what’s wrong with them.
Nothing's wrong with them, they’re great.
That is so inappropriate for senior management, I’ve got a good mind to report you.
I want to put a device in your bra, and if the response is what I know it will be, I’ll offer you fifty percent in my new company.
That sounds intriguing, Paul, so what do I have to do.
Just give me one of your bra’s, I’ll put the device in it, you go home and put it on. They’re three settings on it, so start at one and see how you get on.
Should I include Joe in this experiment.
Well, the more feedback, the better.
Next day. So, what’s the feedback.
I put Joe in hospital, that’s the feedback.
What, what the hell did you do.
I put it on setting one, and after a few minutes I felt this tingling sensation, and that just put me in the mood. Then I got Joe into bed and turned it onto setting two. My god, I was demanding sex in every position conceivable, it was fantastic like out of this world, so then I went to position three as I was straddling him on the kitchen table. It sent me mental, I must have scratched and punched him to a pulp, cos he was unconscious when I came round.
Right, so maybe we should get rid of position three.
No, I was thinking we could market position three for S and M clients.
That is a great executive decision, Mandy, I can see this company going from strength to strength.
One thing, Paul, why can’t you put this device in woman’s knickers, would that not work just as well.
It did work just as well, Mandy. I gave a pair to Jenny, and she dumped me two days later with the words. You are now surplus to requirements.
Jack was sitting poker faced
With bullets backed by bitches.
Neal hunched at the wheel
Puttin everyone in stitches.
He was braggin 'bout
This nurse he'd screwed,
While drivin through Nebraska.
Said that when she came,
She honked the horn,
And Neal just barely
Missed a truck
And then he asked her
If she'd like to cum like that
All the way to CalifornY?
See a redhead in a uniform
Will always make you horny.
With her hair net and her white
Shoes and a name tag and a hat,
She drove like Andy Granatelli
And knew how to fix a flat!
And Jack was at the bottom
Of his second 2020.
Neal was yellin out the window
Tryin to buy some beannies
From a Lincoln, full of Mexicans
Whose left rear tire blew
And the son's of bitches
Prit near ran us off the road!
Well the nurse had
Spilled the Manischewitz
All up and down her dress,
Then she lit the map on fire
And Neal just had to guess.
Should we try to find
A bootleg route
Or a fillin station open?
The nurse was dumping
Out her purse looking for a kiss.
Jack was out of cigarettes,
When we crossed the yellow line.
The gas pumps looked
Like tombstones from then on.
It felt lonelier than a parking lot
When the last car pulls away.
And the moonlight dressed
The double breasted foot hills
In the mirror, weaving out
A negligee and black brassiere.
The mercury was running hot
And we were almost out a gas,
Just then Florence Nightingale
Dropped her draws and stuck
Her fat ass out the window
To a Wilson Picket tune
And she shouted "get a load of this! "
And give the finger to the moon.
Counting one eyed jacks
And whistlin Dixie in the car,
Neal was doin least a hundred
When we saw a shootin star.
Florence wished that Neal
Would hold her 'stead of chewin his cigar.
Jack was noddin out and dreamin
That he was in a bar,
With Charlie Parker on the bandstand
And not a worry in the world,
And a glass of beer in one hand
And his arm around a girl.
And Neal was singin to the nurse
Underneath a Harken moon
And somehow you could tell
We'd be in CalifornY pretty soon.
Like fallen warriors,
we collapse side by side,
glistening in the sweaty afterglow.
Limbs still entangled,
too exhausted to sing the other’s praise,
we stare at the blades of the bedroom fan
slowly circling above.
A lone,
satisfying sigh
escapes in between your deep,
cleansing breathes.
Your smile
reflects in the brass, ball base
of the rotating fan.
I smile in return,
unable to rescue my gaze
from the fan
cooling off our steaming bodies.
Slowly,
your right hand moves;
fingers entangle with those on my left.
I still taste you on my lips.
I silently laugh to myself
upon the realization that I still have one sock on;
the other dangling on the end of a fan blade.
The remainder of our clothes
strewn around the room
as if the hamper had exploded.
Your brassiere
ruined when I removed it
with my teeth.
Beads of sweat roll down my thigh
where our legs remain interlocked –
I love the smooth contrast of your skin
against my sun dried legs.
The ever so slight breeze
created by the fan
is starting to dry our exposed skin
as we slowly regain strength.
The circling blades hypnotize.
The subtle,
rhythmic hum
from the fan motor
mixes with the recent memory
of the rhythmic dance
just concluded.
Your hand,
now lightly brushing against me,
is re-energizing my engine.
Slight,
involuntary movements
near your finger tips
indicate our dance may not yet be over.
I blink
to interrupt my transfixed,
mesmerized relationship
with the ceiling fan,
so I can once again
concentrate on you.
Energy restored –
as if pumped back into our souls
by the bedroom fan –
the warriors re-engage
in battle once again.
A battle in which
each warrior wins.
Sitting having coffee at the classy Brassiere
Everyone is laughing, and they’re speaking niceties
Isn’t it lovely just to sit and chitter chat
Instead of being me in my lonely habitat
Not to be heavy weather, just to be light and gay
Able to flirt with strangers able to chat away
The woman across from me is glorious to see
She chats with everyone, she is so beautiful and free
I bet her life is happy, without much care or strife
She knows what she is after, able to grab at life
Soft spoken and graceful, yet with hunger lush and ripe
Observing her I sit alone, the studious silent type
She smiles softly, and her smile it lights the room
The men are entranced, she attracts like exotic perfume
Oh I wish I could be like her one never alone
I somehow feel out of touch, I’m always on my own
Such happy smiling faces, a young man just glanced at me
I wonder if he’s lonely, he looked but cannot see
The person that is hiding, the secret inner me
Such a lot of giggly laughter, clever chic repartee
The young man seems disconcerted, maybe he’s very shy
Now the woman’s flirting with yet another passer bye
Maybe her head is empty, maybe there’s nothing there
She needs the admiration she needs the men who stare
So maybe I should be thankful for all that’s inside me
She can only see herself, but dear world I see thee.
Homeless, destitute with nothing more then a backpack and cigarettes
down the rabbit hole she went, no linen tablecloths just stricken wood,
in a house of ill repute;.
She could not refuse the hunkering of a horny man who lived by threats
so she counted her bills and tucked them in her brassiere with a tear
She cringed when glass smashed and grinded her teeth when she was cold
it was a bordello made surreal by alcohol mellowed Johns who were so old
A bawdy crib, (bagnio del innocente) bath for the innocent...
a knocking shop that foiled the linen and gave shiners to young girls,
no one cared
in this disorderly place, where the stew was watered down with whiskey float
Then came the raid that brought everything to a halt,
in a gestalt moment she found freedom, perhaps her prayers were answered?
Down to the river she went for a bath and a rest,
it was then that she remembered her first time, it was incest *
The wild caged bird had no other place to hide but in this fortress
she slept for days on the grass beside a great big boulder, ,
all the wild animals in the forest thought she was a Princess.
They let her sleep, and fed her pine nuts from the trees. Until this day,
Gianna never mentioned the brothel to anyone, no even herself.
Feb. 20, 2021
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the hills
The kinfolk were drinkin' as they tend to their stills
The longjohns were hung by the chimney with care
No stockings were found, just underwear
The children were nestled so high in their bunks
Their quilts made of skins from rabbits and skunks
Granny with her false teeth and gun on her knee
Was waiting for Santa as she sat by the tree
From out of the barn there arose such a noise
We thought it was Grandpa drinkin' with the boys
But what to my wandering eye should appear
It was just cousin Cleatus in mama's brassiere
And then from the rooftop we heard it at last
Like the sound of thunder or a shot gun blast
We have Christmas dinner, it's finally here
Granny kidnapped Santa while we shot his deer
Venison all covered with onions for stew
And even old Santa enjoyed some too
His belly was full when he walked out the door
But he couldn't resist when we offered him more
Well that's the story of our Christmas here
Merry Christmas to all 'til the same time next year
2009
NASA confirms the discovery of
Water on our moon above
Not so much that you can see it
But evidence that there sure be it
When we get back to explore moon seas
Will we finally find moon cheese
1985
In Washington, there on the mall
They built a long black marble wall
As a tribute to those who gave their all
In Vietnam where they did fall
1914
Ladies you should stand and cheer
For on this day back in this year
More than your spirits were lifted I hear
When a patent was issued for the first brassiere
1878
Governor Lew Wallace, New Mexico
Was feeling kind so don’t you know
He offered amnesty to those who fought
In the Lincoln County War – but naught
To one young lad who ran and hid
The gunfighter known as Billy the Kid
He also wrote the book Ben Hur
A talented man this Governor
1838
Independent! Texans claim
And gave themselves a brand new name
Lone Star Republic – not yet a state
Till 1845 they’d wait
"My Over The Shoulder Bolder Holders"
so close to my heart, we four could never part
with pounds of mounds in hand
you tightly redirect, to up stage a grand plan, to enhance, uplift & separate
oh! Yea! that feels so great?
your my pal, my good friend. my best-est confident
only you know, how low the valley really go
and high, the pecks on the mountains run deep
and down and down...
but... its not that i would ever? complain!
but your hugs are driving me, In·sane
i can barely breath
not that we could ever part
because without you, there would be, a cold place right by my heart
and the mounds of old would fall apart
and bounce to their own swing
so hug me, Brassiere as you will
we four the bra, the twins, and me
will be the best of friends till the bitter end
and by than i could be to old to even care?
aka:Lyricvixen
Form: