Long Jeans Poems
Long Jeans Poems. Below are the most popular long Jeans by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jeans poems by poem length and keyword.
Choices
Should I have the low cut dress?
My décolleté set out ready to impress.
What about the long backless number
It shimmers and shines, no man will slumber.
I could have the short one to show off my legs
But too many out there will get down and beg.
What about the push up bra that he likes to see
Then again I think I have enough about me.
What should I buy on this shopping expedition?
It goes against the grain and every tradition.
I am not used to this I think I’ll do what I do best
I’ll stick on my jeans and my old sleeveless vest.
I do not need anything new to make me feel good
I have a husband for that and he does as he should.
So I won’t go shopping for new things today
Why break the habit of a lifetime I’ll stop in this day
I can’t remember when I last had some new things
But I bet it was before I had my wedding ring.
Lady Cool and Mister Can Do
Oh! Dahlin’ Lady Cool, we’re
All sayin’ how you’re
Lookin’ bussin-fine indeed,
In your blue jeans, and your
Fingers all so smart, five by
Five in sterling rings.
Lady Sweet laughin’;
Singin’ ol’ ‘70’s songs;
Rollin’ on along these
Streets, bein’ joy goin’ on
Along with care, smoothly
In the envied hands of
Your Mister Able Can-do,
Who’s wearin’ his infamous
Head-to-toe tux black —
Lookin’ a lovin’ vision kept
‘Round you, so your fates
Should come to this now
Of your reality, which
Only your lovin’, held-
Hero could do.
Ms. Lady Heart, your dearest
Goes devoted to you through
The galactic night’s dark
— Warrior for the Light —
Guided by bright love’s
Sparklin’ — seen centered
In each iris of your eyes,
Kindled there as your
Soul meets the flame
Of his heart’s passion—-
Just and only for you.
Legendary in a way,
Toting amusing tales and
Smiles to give away, these
Two here described,
Come welcome into places,
Then leave to resident sighs.
**;please note, there is One Lady Cool, also given other fond handles by her friends, family, acquaintances. Please check my Lady Cool blog for complete info. This is part of a long story poem about her
—————————————————-
(C) sally young eslinger 11/8/2023
KARMA FOR TWO
Two young lads not quite in their teens,
Twins who carried the same genes,
Would every evening run down the street,
Each of them became a terrible cheat,
But were careful not to spill the beans,
A girl undressing, till she took off her jeans.
On a dustbin they stood to peep,
Tiptoeing as high as their legs could creep,
One night a pack of dogs knocked them down,
A policeman arrived, wearing a frown,
Called their mom, they decided karma was due
Justice, for these dishonest terrible two,
No friends for the rest of the year,
Starting from right now mum said, I fear
( Entered for contest sponsored by Carolyn Devonshire "Justice" 19th December 2018)
Leaving the Farm
David J Walker
I
“At the end of the day” they keep saying
At the end of the day
A prepositional phrase followed by
unsupported speculation
When everything is considered,
At the End of the Day, is
A simple idiot with an idiom and nothing to say
My father said sitting quietly
At the end of the day, smoking
Speculating about our future
II
What time does the clock strike late afternoon?
Is it just before early evening?
Is it marked by sundial sunsets sometime
Before dark?
We knew, my father and me, as we left the fields
Headed home in the summer’s heat
Watching the sun dip into the west just beyond
The hood ornament of the pick-up truck
Even with the windows rolled down
The wind and the whine of the road
Could not drown out the sound
Of our growling bellies
There would be beans and cornbread waiting
Maybe Spam,
But not meat
III
Clever, the ways to irrigate
And turn a desert into a farm
Hard, was the work to care for the
Rows of cotton and maze
that would be harvested
for our money, maybe
Some years it worked
But for many, it did not
There was no way for anyone to say
Which it would be
There were tractors bought on credit
And the banks still had to be repaid
IV
The men in the middle
Were always invisible though we
Knew they wore expensive suits
While we wore jeans and boots
Before school began each year
Mom would buy me two new pair
Of Levi’s from the department store
on the square
They would last the whole year if
Her predictions of my growth
Was close.
V
I can never forget
The day we left Lea County
Cold and gray
on February 10th, 1966
In a grain truck bound for Lubbock
Dad bought a horse he thought he
Could turn to earn enough money
For gas and rent
Starting over was possible
Staying was not
"How sweet to the heart are the scenes of my childhood"
Samuel Woodworth, 1785-1842
MY HUDSON VALLEY CHILDHOOD
Mother dropped us — we’ve no fear of attack,
shopping in Poughkeepsie, when it was clean.
Teens buy nail polish —hers blue, mine lilac.
Feathered-Farrah hair, wear bell-bottom jeans.*
No call waiting, phones attached to the wall.
Sans social media, not very mean.
Prom in auditorium — had a ball.
Wore wedding-white, back then I was scot-free.
I declared prophecy before my fall.**
Burgeoning sights and sounds —poetic me
adored rainstorms, the way the branches bend
at the onset when wind frazzles shade trees.
Perched in maple with my neighborhood friends,
riding my bicycle all around town —
sunny and cloudy days breathlessly spend.
Memory swinging at village playground.
My Hudson Valley’s a luscious hometown.
11/23/2020
Contest: Terza Rima Form
Sponsor: Constance La France
*Farrah Fawcett, Charlie’s Angels’ fame, 1970’s hairstyle
**Before I fell in love. I wore that same dress when I got married. I had said to my mother, “This would make a nice wedding dress.” I married just a few months after I joined the Navy. Had no idea I would find a husband or wear this dress when I got married. LOL...so young.
The nights get cold on that prairie land,
But she don’t break—she takes God’s hand.
With a baby girl tucked close at night,
She leans on faith when there’s no end in sight.
She’s patched old jeans, gone weeks on beans,
Fought silent storms no one sees.
But through each trial, tear, and test,
She trusts the Lord will handle the rest.
Her hands are rough, her prayers are soft,
She lifts her girl and her hopes aloft.
“When the world gets mean, you stand and pray—
God don’t leave when folks walk away.”
She’s hauled hay sick, rode fence line sore,
Worked through nights with an aching core.
But her daughter’s laugh, like heaven’s light,
Keeps her going through the darkest night.
Some days she cries while no one sees,
Whispers, “Lord, please carry me.”
And sure as sunrise paints the sky,
She feels His mercy passing by.
She teaches her girl with every chore,
That life is hard—but there’s so much more.
“Don’t let the weight steal your joy, my dear,
God rides with you—He’s always near.”
Through muddy roads and unpaid bills,
She climbs each day with quiet will.
And side by side, just her and her kin,
They ride with God through thick and thin.
So if you see that cowgirl’s eyes,
Know they’ve seen lows and higher skies.
But through it all, she’s standing strong—
With her daughter’s hand and the Lord all along.
Of the distance,
beauty appeared at peace, calmly resting.
Proximity grew closer to this human figurine;
lengthy legs painted in ocean blue jeans.
The thesis statement to male's eyes in dreams.
But those legs...
Those legs were the topic of my eyes
Pupils conversing in-between her inner thighs
The rhetorical tongue eager to submit beneath sun rise
Thickened bridled muscle strengthens to rise
I mean d*** Oh me! Oh myy!
Oooo wee such a beautiful sexy queen.
Envisioning,
If at current, her faucet is running. ..
Slow-ly d
r
I
p
p
I
n
g or simply leak-ing
So the fleshes hydration can be full-filling.
Muscles within muscles while warm liquid falling?
Can we start engaging?
Lips connect; gently kissing... (Pause)
But the guiltiness in the minds eye began interrupting
Spirit intervening
Muscles deflating
Suddenly, no tempting to the extent of no lusting
Corrective vision restoring
Walking through the escape door from fornicating...whew!
As the moon tiptoes in
Eyes close and knees bend
The darkened closet within
Praying to overcome this certain sin
That I indeed struggle in
And that I may be born again
This I pray, from day to day...Amen
INK-U-SCRIPT
06-04-2014
It had been a hot and dusty week chasin' them wily steers thro' the chaparral.
And, later, sweatin, cussin' and brandin' them wild critters in the old corral!
It was Saturday night and he was headin' for Rocky Ford to have a little fun.
His jeans was janglin' with his pay from the boss for the work that he'd done!
He drove down the dusty road in his Ford pickup truck, a beat-up '86 One-fifty.
Clad in his best jeans, Stetson hat and Tony Lama boots - he looked mighty nifty!
In the rear window was his fishin' rod and Henry repeatin' rifle reposin' on a rack.
His old huntin' hounds Pete 'n' Spooks enjoyed the ride cavortin' in the back!
He longed to sate his thirst with Colorado Kool Aid, commonly known as Coors,
At his favorite waterin' hole, Cliff's Saloon, the one with the swingin' doors!
He figgered on kickin' up his heels dancin' with the gals as the night wore away!
He reckoned he could even afford a steak with the beer on his meager pay!
There was a honky-tonk band with a pianer, drums, fiddle and 'electric git-tar,
And Rita wailin' "he done me wrong" songs as Cliff dispensed spirits at the bar!
The cowboy was havin' a rip-roarin' time but Cliff announced last call for booze.
The cowboy spent his last few bucks orderin' for his pals a final round of brews!
It was nigh two AM when he got to his truck and roused his sleepin' dogs.
They paid him no mind at all and kept on snoozin' like a pair of oaken logs!
He weaved his way along the dusty road on his way back to the dreary ranch,
Anticipatin' next Saturday night and Colorado Kool Aid for his thirst to quench!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
You might know me by my wear;
Sorely I stand before me, yet the me not really me, yet surely be
if you were to open door therein is hangers full of clothes that’s just there...
Shirts, cargo pants as well as regular pants by George ™
Matching flora, colorful plaids;
Hanging on hooks and Newspaper Boy Caps™ and Tams™;
Love me some denim jeans and cotton
Light blues, pink, reds, browns, tans blacks and white
Flowered, neon, purples and violet, yeah still in them 70’s seams
My closet full of also Walmart George Wranglers™ and Levi™
Mustn’t forget them T-shirts by TEMU™
You might know me by my wear
7/15/24
For Sartorial Self Portrait Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Jaymee Thomas
Brunette, of hair, my mother's face
I'm known to be a country girl
I like to wear blue denim jeans,
but love to wear a dress of lace
I've made mistakes, to my disgrace
I'm small in size......my eyes are blue
I'm not a prize, have no excuse
I'm the neighbor who will bring you soup
Good music fills my eyes with tears
Love hula hoops. Loops in my ears
Can toss a ball, and whoop it up
I can ride a horse, and wear the boots
Don't wear a crown, I'm not a queen
But I am keen on my clean house
I'll lend an ear, I am a friend
My favorite food might be ice cream
A double scoop, I beg you please?
I'll bathe the dog, I give good hugs
I'll rub your back when you are ill
I'll judge you not...won't hold a grudge
A movie fan, read quite a lot
I thrive on love, I'll love you too
Can fix most things with Elmer's glue
Can stretch a dime, make old things new
I love antiques and have a few
My family ties are iron strong
And stronger as the days grow long
I hope to light my little world
With poetry, some bad, some good
I've paid my dues.....with ups and downs
A small town girl, who gets around
I try to keep an open mind
I hope to God, that I've been kind
And hope to find a friend in you
So that's scoop, ..... a double dip
I'll say adieu' ...., and finish it !
_________________________________
Submitted For "A Poet's Bio"
Contest sponsored by Tammy Reams