Long Dressed Poems
Long Dressed Poems. Below are the most popular long Dressed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dressed poems by poem length and keyword.
They had never seen or heard of a wedding before
But they wanted one that would last forever more
Just a few humans, they cautioned me, not so many.
Would you rather have ten, or could I invite twenty?
No photos, except maybe one, to take back on our ship.
I noted a bunch of rules coming out of my alien friend Hip.
Do we have to wear clothes? She asked me, concerned about it.
It would probably be the best, I said, hoping she would not have a fit.
They dressed up in colors, that matched their triple-toned skin.
He had never looked more handsome, her groom Old Finn.
We gave them a sendoff and a wedding to boot.
Then they had to blast off, the bride and her crotchety coot.
Clear skies, children’s laughter, old lawn chairs line the street, people wearing giant shamrocks,
Leprechaun leggings, rainbow shirts, fluffy green skirts trimmed in white lace, the smell of ham hocks.
Excitement mounts, people crane their necks, for a glimpse of beautiful Irish Day queen.
Familiar to all, because she works at the store; her glorious smile serene.
She’s waving a gentle hand; she mouths something to me, mommy, yet part of the flock.
I smile with pride, at my daughter, with her brown breezy tresses, her happy ways.
Her eyes are snapping with gladness; she’ll remember this until the end of her days.
As she glides past me, smile big as Texas, on a giant St. Patty’s day float,
The mom in me grins like a deranged dog, I am valiantly trying not to gloat.
“The queen is my daughter,” my husband yells, so I look at him with all kinds of craze.
“What he asks me?” innocently, a completely, utterly unknowing manner.
“They all know we’re her parents,” I say, nodding hello to my 80 plus Grand-mere.
“Colleen! Colleen!” She yells; with the bellow of a bleeding goat whose life can’t be saved.
Although the float is practically out of sight, my daughter hears, turns; and gaily waved.
The children are chasing the float now, because when turning she lost her queen banner.
“Have they started throwing the candy?” My wildly untamable grandma demands.
“Six tons of it,” my husband teases her. “Here come the performing marching bands!”
The first band’s showy with sparkly rhinestones hats that came off their head in a whirl.
The next band is dressed in yellow shirts, every two seconds they complete a twirl.
Children are dashing into the street for candies now; yes, the day was grand!
In the labyrinth of time, where shadows spread their dark wings,
My thoughts float like ripples on a silent river, gliding among lost dreams,
The air breathes through the mist like ghosts, dancing on the edge of the abyss,
Humanity, sleepwalking towards oblivion, between skyscrapers and shattered illusions.
With eyes closed, hearts wrapped in logos and neon ephemera,
You sing melancholy melodies on chords of clay, runes that cry out at sunset,
The skies bend under the weight of irony, under the devastating healing of silence,
Born in fields of gold, bound to the earth that breathes forgetfulness.
Rivers of hope pour into an ocean of illusions,
I feel the years pass, like pages of paper, yellowed and torn by the cold wind of consumption,
A macabre dance under the light of advertisements, choirs of digital sirens,
The sleep of reason gives birth to dreams of iron and concrete, while the heart weeps burdened.
Among the ruins of dreams, among the great cathedrals of greed,
Unfinished paintings remain, skeletons of ideas that were never reborn,
I, you, we - prisoners in our own labyrinths of illusions,
Wondering if awakening will ever find us.
Your eyes, corners of unexplored universes,
I breathe the whispers of time, buried under the dust of reality,
A world dressed in brand cloaks, in cemeteries of dreams,
And I wonder, always wonder, when we will begin to dream again – together.
I was yet a child
With a smile so sweet and a temper so mild
I was yet a child, so ecstatic
For it was here, at last, the night known to be so bleak
Halloween, here at last
Why, with honeyed candies shall I feel blessed
Even if to be all safe, I shall maybe have to seek the help of an exorcist
At last, at last, it is here, the night during which the living and the dead are entwined
Dressed as a little witch
I tried to make as if my tight clothes did not make my skin itch
I would scare the whole neighborhood
Indeed, so scared would the whole world be, that to me it would behave as one, so good!
I walked in the night, feeling so bold
Holding on to the fingers of my mother, holding on so hard
For the night was scary
Even if it did promise me more than a million candy
We walked in the neighborhood, trick and treating
My mound of treasure candy was growing
And my heart was beating
Surely, on this Halloween, I would be the great candy Queen!
Grand was the moon, so full and bright
It seemed to be made of fairies' light
Accompanying us in our spree
Giving us all the light we needed, for free
The night smelled of freshly mowed grass
The night smelled of pine leaves
The night smelled of romance
I could smell it all, even if I was still a young princess
Halloween night was marvelous
We saw all sorts of creatures roaming the night
We never knew which was human and which was supernatural
What mattered was only the magical night, seeming to be so precious
I came back home, and fell right on my bed, in deep sleep
The next morn did bid me to take the time to count my treasure
Why, I did become a Queen indeed
The Queen bearing all the candies, amassed in spooky trick or treating!
When fashions get their own displays
Arranged in a museum,
It’s guaranteed that I will be
One person who will see ‘em.
I study all the sketches and
The mannequins all dressed
In fancy outfits sure to leave
All comers quite impressed.
Today, at the Mizrahi show,
The staff did help contrive
To take the dresses, coats and gowns
And make them come alive.
For after gazing at the clothes
Most artfully on view,
There was a film where models
In those threads came strutting through.
As wonderful as garments look
When hanging there, inert,
It’s so much better when we see
The swaying of a skirt.
Written for D;
I devoured the dust of deceptive devotion,
a plague of perfumed promises ~
a destructive dialect
that drained the music of my muse…
O heart-soother, pulse-seeker,
d e l e t e me ~
I’m a dangerous dream,
drenched in delusion,
disguised as a desert-rose dawn
within the dusk I wear,
dressed in honest lies ~
dramatizing deadly desire
and infernal flame,
a mirror framed in thorns and ivy…
The victimized villain
who once believed in me
knows my soul’s seething song,
this heart’s burning blaze,
and I’ll remain as a gothic sunset,
stranded in the
beloved Sahara of angst and silence,
for love never felt my rhyme...
Last Halloween was scary
with evil brewing strong
when Peggy planned a party
and things went off all wrong
In tatty robe, her hair awry
she slaved all day with care
her neighborhood to satisfy
with an elegant affair
Fine treats she baked and broiled
and decorated in detail
until her appetite was spoiled
and strength had almost failed
The house she'd scrubbed and polished
to a frighteningly bright sheen
every speck of dust demolished
she worked like a machine!
But, oh- the guests arrived too early
before she was quite dressed
and between her looks, and manner surly
were somewhat less than impressed
And to make things even worse
they quipped in her living room
their clever lines, so well-rehearsed
“Oh Peg, we LOVE your costume!”
They waited half a second, while
still within earshot
and sniped with vicious smiles
about all her house was not
How her home was far too small
to host this gathering
with depressing rooms and narrow hall
too shabby for anything!
The kids came in rolled their eyes
at tacky Halloween kitsch
and consoled themselves by cracking-wise
about it all with Mitch
Now Mitch was Peggy's husband
and should've known her mind
but he said things offhand
that came off as unkind
Then Nan came in with Merrilee
a chef of snobby taste
who (nose turned up), quite warily
declared the food “a waste”
Then as the midnight beckoned
Peg raged against the room
(a “woman scorned”, I reckon...)
the party met their doom!
___
A Halloween poem to make up for my deceptively titled 'The Living Dead' poem... which has nothing to do with the holiday!
Moon night!
Full quarter, half-moon snow bright;
Mid-day, mid noon, such a boom;
a Moon lit Knight;
Son of a Jewish Rabbi;
Birth given name Marc Spector;
Was a professional boxer?
Did a tour of duty, fought as a Marin;
Leaves them to join ops. In CIA!
Later in the parlay
Becomes a vigilante;
A gravity anti-hero;
Mercenary;
Killed by an Egyptian Bushman;
The Egyptian god of Konshu resurrects;
Marc Spector mercenary rich socialite;
Now transformed by this god into;
Moon Knight;
Vigil unto battle mode;
Ready to deal with any ordinary criminals;
Crime fighter dressed in WHITE;
With the crest of the quarter moon on his chest;
Moon night;
Full quarter, half-moon;
Mid-day, mid noon;
A Moon Knight!
8/6/21
10/3/2022 revision©2021, 2022©
"From anthology Marvel Comics Poetry BIOS"
For Moon Knight Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
CRATER a vvv
fragile and
volatile lie
suppressed emotions
denied 'neath
the volcano
of frustration
CANYAN a vvv
high wide
and handsome
the chasm
of emptiness
that fills
viduaged hearts
ETERNAL PAUSE a vvv
soft spoken
voiced musings
freed verse
lingers in
the ear
dwelling for
a moment
VIDUAGE
beauty youth
yesterdays dreams
todays remains
dressed in
widows weeds
Dressed in a fluffy fleece zebra suit with pink fringe I type my truth.
This minute’s truth. Maybe not the truth three minutes from now.
Flexibility is my middle name, and I am proud of it.
What did you say?
Let me ponder that.
Okay.
Changing this poem entirely now due to your voice.
Due to the things you are saying which lead me in a new path.
Your truth has enticed and enlightened me.
Your sage missive has snapped me up and blown me into another
Realm entirely, a realm I did not recognize or appreciate
Two seconds ago.
Wait!
What was that?
A notification of another new poem.
Something that sounds pretty interesting.
This is why I read poems
And why my mind is insanely
Happy about it.