Long High fashion Poems
Long High fashion Poems. Below are the most popular long High fashion by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long High fashion poems by poem length and keyword.
it's Fashion Week in New York City and the people just can't wait
to see the lastest trends that the designers will demonstrate
to all the fashionistas with their obssession to impress
tis the season to be a woman of style in the way that you dress
for true fashion is about representing one's identity by the clothing one wears
but fashion is fickle and it's a crazy and unpredictable world out there
one day you may be in and the next day you may be out
but if your wearing the garments of God your fashion style is never in doubt
celebrity endorsements, designer labels and someone's logo on your butt cheeks
there's nothing wrong with the external facade but it's the internal you need to seek
you've been baptized and now you are a new creation in Christ
wearing Divine Designer garments to go with your new life
you have been stripped of the old way of dressing
now wearing the virtues of God in a way most impressing
high fashion from that Universal Designer known as Our Lord God
wearing His Divine creations to go with your brand new heart
Patience is now the pantyhose where your divine foundation starts
Compassion is now that delicate silk blouse worn over your heart
Kindness displayed like a heavenly pair of shoes upon your feet
Humility is now that stylish hat that makes your outfit complete
Forgiveness worn like a precious and expensive pair of gloves
and last but not least that glorious overcoat that God calls love
dressed in Divine Designer garments from the inside out
dressed for success with a stylish spiritual clout
you don't need a Louis Vitton sash around your waist
if you have the Belt of Truth cinched firmly in place
you won't need a Ralph Lauren chemise to cover your back
as the Breastplate of Righteousness will protect from any and all attacks
you don't need a pair of Jimmy Choos stiletto high heels
as the Readiness of the Gospel of Peace is a much better deal
you don't require a Prada handbag just to show you're with it
if you have in your hand the Biblical Sword of the Spirit
and it's not necessary to put on Ban de Soleil
as the Shield of Faith will cover you each and every day
and you don't need a Kate Spade hat upon your head
as the Helmet of Salvation will have you spirit led
dressed from the inside out now totally and spiritually clad
dressed in the virtues of God, the finest garments to be had
Look at them, tangled in insignificant conversation
about politics or stereotypes of blacks, whites and Asians,
lack of youth education, weather ruined vacations, how inflation squeezing their arm like “yo, I got you taken,
and how fuel became a bill from the money that we are making.
They sacrifice the savings to keep a standard of living.
I hear then talking about their lovers lack of love that they are giving
I say communicate or leave because time is steady ticking
Look at them
Buying expensive rims, and high fashion clothes with sneakers, lugz, and tims. Inside I soul spy like
magnified mri’s an imaginary field force of selfishness and pride.
Careless if they fetus die, cry internal cause maternal really means giving up a lot.
They sacrifice the club shot for shot life and dreams and the scene of kings and queens all decken together…
and their business is each others infused for forever playing tether with the ball of a pendulum. Uncovered
are their memories of covers and words they’ve past uttered…it is just another case of lack of patience
Like gimme good but hold the impregnation. Bright futures still there steady waitin
Look at them
Thinking they can plan their lives, brake the rules of the beehive that ran their lives, make a little honey to
expand their lives, then forget they folk turn around forget they wives.
See she lost her heart and he aint got no eyes but in such a dark world that man is king.’
Look at her flaunting that ring then pawning that ring because all that mattered was a shiny thing. Not the
signs
Look at them tryna rewind. Relight the spark that wouldn’t stay the last 20 times
It should be a crime to try to live back there. Yo people do change but change is rare
They put it all on retail so it can be re-teared
All the hurt made them cold so they don’t care
Blinded by the glare, and the lights and such
Look at them! Don’t they know they done sold too much?
In for a short time touch instead of long term goals
People drive through they souls without no tolls
All control each other’s minds fueled hearts by coal
So hard, so swoll, so invincible is external
Look at them bout to blow so internal
Would you look at them actually living
My observations vicarious as information I’m giving
Look at me all input but no answer
All I am is input but not the answer
Form:
GARDEN
She smelled like the colors
of an intricate garden in which
every geometry and every dimension,
every expression of soft composition,
had the dominant splash, the pervasive
aura, the relentlessly visible subtext
of red
Centered and rooted in the soil
of tradition, North African shawl
over white silk blouse and long black
skirt, the high Cuban heels and the sheer
black stockings, the curly black hair over
dark honey skin all smelled like the gurgling
of cold running water through the granite
canals that sparkled like sunlight broken
by motion in the highest-walled gardens
of Al-Andalus
“I’m getting older” she said
clicking her heels as they walked
toward coffee at theater intermission
where women of high fashion and girls
without clue set an aesthetic standard that
smelled like the storms at the end of October
that dislodge the leaves, the petals, the last
fruits, and render the garden a study of lost
order overwhelmed by forces without
purpose or merit
“I want you” he said,
sure that every person on the
atrium floor was fully aware that
the finest theater in the darkening shadows
was she in the red shawl and the gentleman
beside her, that she smelled like the languages
of medinas and plazas, of harems and courtyards
and the pervasive odors of espresso and wine,
perfume and tobacco, lipstick and roses, that
the breeze of her breath made him sway
with the scents of the colors of night
Shall we?” he said
and she turned, saying nothing,
began walking slowly through the
flowers and vines with the soft sexy
rhythm that only high heels can offer
And reaching their seats, this alluring
composition of red breezes and smells
and Mediterranean gardens of poetry and
song, mother of his children and the
personification of all he know about plants,
kissed him lightly on the lips and looked
toward the stage “Yes we shall” she softly
whispered like a nocturnal breeze
in a garden where the walls smell like
oranges and jasmine and the
color of red
Pretty girl slithers through the fields
Bell around her neck swings out a cry
Under the howling moon a warning
In open fields of golden wheat asleep
Before the ax comes down complete
Cuts the farmer right in two
A heel breaks off her favorite shoes
High fashion turns to hobbles odd
A road that beckons shadows on
Leads beauty with her limp to work
Chopping up farmers and assistants
Might be wrong but no one listens
A charming smile and personality
Can take you far in life
With little effort, an ax works better
Looks good on any resume
Everyone should have a mission
Ejected blood in all directions
Spews out profusely by night light
They never saw it coming
Lost souls planted in the ground
Seems strange at harvest time
A lovely girl with long blonde hair
New white dress without a blemish
Dressed to kill to quench her thirst
To feed her pleasure for a harvest
Beware the girl with alabaster skin
Skinny, with a lust for murder over life
Dripping with blood from head to toe
Friendly to the strangers that she knows
Her enemies love the work she does
Not knowing what comes next
Actions perpetrated in the field reflected
Hair shimmering in the sins committed
Ghostly midnight shines on them
Slaughter with an attitude is best
A sharp mind and weapon swinging
Into skulls instead of golden wheat
Requires skill when dressed to kill
A bell around her neck is charming
Rings out a warning for who is next
Having an edge in life works best
When gathering dead instead of crops
(Adventures In Geriatric Land)
Does your dentist have money for Porsche that you’ve lost?
Is the hair on your head now the color of frost?
Is the zip in your life only internet speed?
Do your savings accounts all too easily bleed?
Does your bladder evacuate slower than sound?
Do your friends all speak louder when you are around?
Is night driving more difficult due to the glare,
Do night road signs all seem that they’re needing repair?
Are closed captions de rigueur while watching TV,
Spicy foods mean you’re somewhere you don’t want to be?
Do you now find you look at each phone number twice,
Does it seem you’re less trusting of stranger's advice?
Does high fashion place second to comfort these days,
Shoes that tie seem they must be a teenager’s craze?
Does your body seem more like the shape of a pear,
Are there times you’re not sure if your feet are still there?
Does your nose know what septum that deviates means?
Do you find that you’re now not so jealous of teens?
Does your back really hurt at times, knees always ache?
Do you sometimes feel drowsy when life needs awake?
And do taxes now fill your whole body with dread
Are there days that you feel like you envy the dead?
Can you look at your life and still think it well spent?
Does it seem now that multitudes live in your tent?
Well if all this is true and you still greet the day,
If you don’t let the little things get in your way,
If you’ve learned to accept and you don’t fear the end
Then rejoice in arrival of mensch-hood my friend.
Brian Johnston
January 22, 2016
Missions on a selfie stick is described as a result of a sudden appearance. But a carbonated omitted beast is not normally associated with a dramatic spoon and cables dancing are very often fragrant. Neat is neither a feet nor is it a metric metre. It is to be felt only with a ginormous beef cutlet at a banquet barking. Bring a breaded fish with you. And a two ton blanket. And the legs off an earwig. It is in silence that a smiling fish sings. And the waltzing from the leprechaun ball is at its height in a summer plumage. A Worldy view on a statement is a staggering stagnant prawn on a deep mission. Pointing pouting political poultry. And a jar of creamy melodic mustard humming. Humming a hymn. Defined by a single bead. Waving. Weave not a scent. And fish for a teapot in a lavender plant. Taking train stations to a discordant discotheque is not to be done in the middle of a floating road as booming shark teeth are prevalent in vans,buses,and even lorries. Traditional traders trading talismanic teeth. And a wise dove doing a fly by wearing a silky blouse. Have you a baked bean as a dress? Or a pickle as a hat? No. Then you must get them. Very high fashion. A savoury duck is climbing a wall. Radio for help then. Signal two point eight. And a large scale for the delay. Fry some fish. Listen carefully. And do not trust a fish monger. Xxxxx insectivorous ideologues ignoring ignorance's indefinitely. Xxxxx tomorrow today. Xxxxx geometrical Z
Form:
I have her nineteen fifties' Trifari
fine costume jewelry, which I hold dear,
since my sweet mom bequeathed it all to me;
when worn or touched, I feel her presence near.
The ritzy, sparkling rhinestone matching sets
showcased in satin-lined, faux leather case,
were treasured as high fashion; no regrets
when given as a gift of style and grace.
And too, are pearls embedded in bright gold
with settings of such intricate design.
I love to look at them, to fondle, hold
these precious pieces treasured now as mine.
I wear my mother's gems from time to time
and feel her basking in the lovely glow
that once adorned her beauty in its prime
and graced her loveliness in stylish show.
So I devotedly take tender care
of these Trifari gifts passed on to me;
her treasures shine with special love we share,
safeguarded through her cherished jewelry.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Old Jewelry or Just Old Things
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Judged: 11/06/2016
Since the1920s, Trifari has been one of the most respected and admired producers of costume jewelry in the United States. Founded in the1910s by Gustavo Trifari, the Italian-immigrant son of a Napoli goldsmith, the company has designed jewelry that’s been worn by countless high-profile clients, from Mamie Eisenhower to Madonna. Trifari costume jewelry is highly collectible today.
Thank you God for giving me 6 legs
That’s more than ample and plenty I guess
To get around and praise You for Your glory
Thank you for the 6 very sticky feet
I get to walk on walls and ceilings
But don’t really understand what for
(Most food is on the floor.)
And thank You for giving me a place to live
Even though it is only a small hole on Earth
And sometimes like my mind it gets a little dirty
Protect me from the giants with ugly feet
Who want to step on me because I’m tiny
And because they like high fashion shoes
I understand some styles are very expensive
And really hurt when they stomp on you
Squish you or is it squash? I can’t remember
When the skinny heel comes down on my forever
Please lead me to the picnic promised land of plenty
Flowing with milk and honey without the milk
Because we are not cows and are allergic to it
Keep my sensors clean and pure for Your greater good
For Thee and Thy and Thou and Thine
However you pronounce them, it all sounds fine
Protect me from Xfinity.com and evil signal senders
Don’t allow me to become a TV antennae either
Because my feelers don't feel like it
That would be offensive and less divine
Protect me from my enemies one and all
Mostly tall
Don’t let the 2 footed giants step on me
Especially those in Prada
Amen
New York City is like a cobblestone symphony,
where jackhammers and footsteps form the rhythmic timpani,
sirens and honking taxis, are the cymbals, that provide sudden bursts of energy,
traffic’s hum could be the violins and pigeon squawk a chorus of industry.
The sounds of life never seem to stop because they echo around continually.
Fifth Ave is fashions seat and in every store we saw teenagers tweeting,
perfecting that perfect, offhanded pout to pair with their newest, elite treats.
Envisage a High-(snob)-society playground, a cathedral of style in concrete,
where high fashion brands compete, with glittering displays meant to tease and entreat.
Bergdorf's windows are a whimsical winter wonderland, without a single touch of green,
and Tiffany's underwater dreamscape, contends with Cartier’s minimalist sheen.
At night, the buzzy bars ignite, and laughter spills like sparkling champagne,
flanged martini glasses clink in chorus, to silly school year stories, and tipsy holiday refrains.
We all know that times like a ballet dancer, who pirouettes in increasing haste,
holidays don’t last forever, Yale’s not known for leisure and new terms must be faced.
But for now, we’ll steal kisses in Bryant Park, because we don’t have a second to waste.
Haute Couture
Leucoindigo she said holding
these fancy blue jeans
the pigments a striking rich blue
a marvelous sturdy twill fabric
or the Murex genus of sea snails
indigo the stuff that makes jeans blue
processes that make the
fabrics that stylish jeans
are made of
from the groves of Surrentio
a fabric woven from the fibers of
oranges has made people the world
abroad by storm
pastazzo
extraction, blending,spinning
and weaving
Waste into high fashion
Prêt-à-porter
last, vamp, counter, welt, soling, edge ink, and edge trim