Long Low cut Poems
Long Low cut Poems. Below are the most popular long Low cut by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Low cut poems by poem length and keyword.
THERE IS THIS MAN
THE MAN THAT CLAIMED TO BE A FRIEND
THE SAME MAN WHO STOLE MY INNOCENCE
HE TOOK MY CHILDHOOD FROM ME
AND NOW THE ONLY WAY I FEEL LIKE A KID AGAIN IS TO CRY AND ROCK, CRY AND
ROCK, CRY AND ROCK MYSELF TO SLEEP
THE WAY HE LOOKED AT ME WAS LIKE A “MAN” IS SUPPOSE TO BE IN A “WOMAN”
BUT I WAS ONLY A GIRL
A GIRL TRAPPED BETWEEN THIS MAN AND THAT BED
I STILL SLEEP IN THAT BED
AND EVERY NIGHT THINKING BACK ON WHAT SHOULDN’VE HAPPENED
TWO YEARS LATER STILL IN FEAR BECAUSE OF THAT MISHAP
THIS MAN HAD NO RESPECT FOR ME
LYING INTO THE FACES WHILE STARING INTO THE EYES OF THE FAMILY
THIS MAN STILL HAUNTS ME
NOW EVERY GROWN MAN THAT LOOKS AT ME I FEEL IS DIGUSTING
WHEN EVERY MAN WITH BIG THICK HANDS, LOW CUT HAIR, CHARMING PERSONALITY
SMILES AT ME
I REMEMBER THIS MAN’S HANDS CARESSING AWAY MY INNOCENCE
THE MAKERS PROTECT THIS MAN
CHILD OR NOT, THE PROTECTION SHOULD BE FOR THE INNOCENT
FOR SPEAKING UP THE LADY MAKER TOLD ME I LOOKED STUPID
BUT IN MY HEART I FELT BRAVE
FOR TRYING TO PROTECT GIRLS WHO WERE UNDERAGE
SEE THIS MAN, (AND I USE THAT WORD LOOSELY)
IS NOT A FRIEND, NOT A GOOD KID, NOT INTELLIGENT, NOT HEAVEN SENT
BUT THIS MAN MURDERED MY SELF-ESTEEM
A THEIF!
AND HIS MAKERS…ACCESSORIES
CONDONING THINGS THIS MAN DOES TO YOUNG GIRLS
AS IF HIS ACTIONS DIDN’T ALREADY HURT ENOUGH, THE MAKERS ADD ON PAINFUL
WORDS
IM NOT SORRY THAT I TOLD THE TRUTH
IM SORRY THAT YOUR MAKINGS ARE DECIEVING YOU!
HOW DARE YOU TELL ME THAT WHAT HE DID DIDN’T MATTER?!
TWO YEARS AGO OR TEN, THIS MAN SHOULDN’VE NEVER DID WHAT HE DID
AND YOU ‘RE STILL IN DENIAL WHILE HE’S STILL DOING IT
THIS MAN KISSES HIS MOTHER WITH THOSE LYING LIPS
THE SAME LIPS HE USED TO KISS MY INNOCENCE AWAY WITH
THIS MAN CHANGED MY TRUSTING HEART
I CAN NOT TRUST ANY MAN
BECAUSE THIS MAN…
THE ONE WHO PORTRAYED A FRIEND
DECIDED TO STEAL MY INNOCENCE!
I DON’T WANT A MAN TO SMILE AT ME
BECAUSE I’LL THINK HE’S SMILING AT MY BODY
AND MY BODY STILL CARRIES THE SCARS FROM THIS MAN
FINGERPRINTS STILL VISIBLE FROM THE UNWANTED TOUCHES OF HIS HANDS
AS FOR THAT BED, EVEN WHEN I LOOK AT IT FOR A SECOND OR WHEN I LAY IN THAT
BED
I LET THE TEARS FALL DOWN THE CORNERS OF MY EYES BECAUSE IM SCARED AGAIN
ALL BECAUSE OF THIS MAN’S ATTRACTION FOR MY INNOCENCE
Form:
painted my fingernails
lips, eyes, cheeks
with dark
lovely pink
went out on the town
purse, shoes, belt
had hues and shades
of pink and of brown
spritz myself behind
ears, blot wrist and neck
with lingering soft fresh scent
purchased a drink of class
green, long stem, wide mouth
martini two cherries
speared they sink in the
pink contents of my glass
hair
short, soft, sleek
disposition
mild, calm, meek
blonde, fair, with faucets of pink
in the bouncing
shimmering light
short skirt what a catch
button up jacket, low cut shirt, long bare legs
painted toes
and a golden glittery glow
to match
eyes green dashing
happy go lucky,
only clue to give away
my youth, flamboyant, age
something about my
still, spilled, thrillful
flashing
face i want you to see
notice about me
painted in pink
for the night
drawn on grace
all my life
can't i stay
this way before the dawn
drags me back to
swear, spit, smoke
look tough,
ride rough,
kick dust as i wander away
thick skin
again again again
but in this night i did shed
this beast dark side kindled
nurtured i fed
feminine fair
dance, dreamy, wistful
flair
the next day without regret
for the reasons i live
and go back i dare
and stare it down
with confident care
painted in pink
for a fairy tale like
cut-off calloused soul
and for one night
down hill it rolled
away as it should stay
starting over
is no longer easy for me
but again it rained and poured
and my pink painted face
a mere canvas of watercolors and pastels
dripping, slowly
erased
misplaced
lost again in time and space
showered
hot, smoldering, smothering
water
thoughts
loud
lonely not alone but
a portion of me left and died in that crowd
what a large price to pay
being cinderella
delicate bella
for that day
put on
jeans, t-shirt, bra
all plain
but i gather from reflections of this mirror
my calm, collected, beauty
remains the same
still painted in pink
just a quieted flame
within me i think
blazes long
through this dawn
on and on....
on and on.......
and on.
Form:
Before it’s too late
Distant bells clatter on cloud fed weathered skies where
darkness creeps past low light vestibules, faded beams flicker
Short skirts wave in a winter wind, breezy attributes
revealing fishnet thighs calling to the next hidden passenger,
batting lashes and blowing bubbles of stale gum placed under
crushed velvet seats worn in places, stained deliberately
for bragging rights and handkerchief blotting
A ghostly mist lingers as lips are touched up, bright red, crimson,
shades of desire, occupational decisions, advertisements leaking
into sewers and hopscotch squares spread along the avenue
Silhouettes in porch lanterns, whistling…so unladylike, ducking
constables with nightsticks swinging like the clapper in those damn bells
waking the unsuspecting and spooking the transients offering
a few coins for a ten dollar dream
Swine wallows in last week’s gossip, slimy little beings
fat on sausage and biscuits, cursing the rats pushing their way in
below curtains and kitchen windows framing inquisitive eyes,
watching cash change hands and satisfied smirks
on the faces of those wiping feet on mats,
greeting the family in disguise, shirt un-tucked,
long day rewards and dinner on the table
Yesterday’s newspaper tumbles down the walk,
clinging to sign posts, featuring headlines of death, a warning in bold print,
still at large, a menace to society in a grey overcoat,
double breasted and fancy shoeprints in the fresh mud
No further traces except the body, contorted and frozen, smeared faces
littering cobblestone gutters, frightening children and pets,
as passersby look to second floor balconies, oblivious
Midnight calls, staggering drunkards exit Chauncey’s,
hard up and spent, slurred laughter, boisterous to hide worries
and tomorrow’s jobs, time clock lies and penciled in wishes
Iron fence posts rust at the gateway as they glance to the headstones
of friends long past and recent memories, sensing the urge,
seeing the painted nails and low cut blouses, thinking…
before it’s too late
While from a secluded archway…
Running her hand over her smooth, long leg
She sips red wine and tosses back her hair
The smokey air in the Main Street bar
Seems to lift when she sees him there
Across the room, a lady catches his eye
Dressed to impress -- for whom he wonders
Thoughts start to flow as he politely stares
In his mind he imagines sensual plunders
Rugged and handsome, he heads her way
An inviting smile lights up her face
She pats an empty stool, gives a sign
Hoping he'll find his way to this place
"Good evening to you, have we met before?"
As he runs his eyes down her curvaceous frame
My name is James, pleased to meet you
His heart on fire with his yearning flame
"You DO look familiar," she whispers
The fire in his eyes sets off a spark
"But I can only see your outline;
This room is hot and way too dark"
I don't mean to sound forward, let's vacate this bar
Let's take a walk, forget about this place
I have a flat round the corner, it's not very far
It's bright, warm and cozy; we will have our own space
Strolling through snowfall; he offers a coat
Placing it over her low-cut sweater
Then leads her up a long flight of stairs
The door opens, "Ah, now that's much better!"
Please, make yourself at home, may i get you a drink
I'll turn the heat on, take the chill out of the air
He hands her a cocktail and she responds with a wink
As he towels her wet shoulders and long blond hair
A night of passion; they intertwine
"I'm so glad you found me," she sighs
"Your timing, as always, was just right"
She adds as she shades morning sun from his eyes
He stirs and turns saying, "Mrs. Mayo, last night was bliss
You were sensuous and ripe, like the day we first loved
Your limpet like lips, seduced as we kissed
We caressed each other as if we were gloved"
"We MUST go on meeting like last night, Mr. Mayo,
To fan the flames in our decades-long marriage
You hold the key to my heart in your passion
And our fantasies lift us like a heaven-bound carriage"
Oh, the fine attire.
Women in low cut, grand gowns.
Men in their finest plumage.
Strutting Peacocks, aiming to draw attention.
I wore tails of silk, with fine brocade work as the trim, down the sleek lapels. I dressed
entirely in black. From head to toe.
I looked splendid!
I stood out from the Peacocks, as a Raven would
stand out among Doves.
Cunning as a Raven too. She had not one suspicion.
I was at my best.
Charming, witty, a mystery. Women fall for that.
I slowly, cunningly stalk my prey. A vision in gold.
I danced with her. Her gold, a perfect foil to my black.
I charmed her sweetly. I maneuvered her easily.
I had previous, had the chance to find the spot,
where she would become mine. Such a pretty throat. One that I will drown within.
Once outside, hidden, strategically from all eyes, I began my "dance".
I gaze down into her eyes. Her precious heart begins to race. I can feel her blood. It
calls to me with it's song.
A song of need.
Her breaths slowed and deepened. Her eyes remained locked with mine.
I let her see then, the glory of what I am. She wanted to scream. But, I had control
now.
My incisors grew. Their points very sharp indeed. My muscles bulked. I ruined my fine
new coat. Split the shoulder seams right out.
I toyed with her. I kiss her lips so gently. She trembled for me. I tried to hold back,
wanting to prolong her fear.
Blood lust is, what is. I could smell her rich, thick blood. I wanted it all. I wanted to
bathe in it. Feel it glide over my skin.
My fangs sank deep. Drawing up the precious blood. Elixir of life.
As I fed, I heard her heart slowing with each draw I took.
And just before death could claim her, I released her from her thrall, to scream. It was
the last sound I heard as the men came running. I took my leave.
I am a monster.
I do it well and I love it so.
Soon the sun shall rise again.
I will sleep as the dead.
~Lord Kellington
He drifts into town on his
faithful quarter horse called Moose
who has a three-legged gait
which gives him saddle sores
when riding miles from place to place.
A desert wind storm hits them hard,
he pulls his cowboy hat down his face
so the sand won't sting his deep-set brown eyes,
he sees a faded sign in red lettering advertising
" EL ROJOS CANTINA " as it bangs against
the cracked adobe and tiled-roofed building.
A pretty senorita dressed in a ruby-red dress
greets the unshaven drifter as he stumbles
through the double-saloon doors,
the cantina is dark and dank with smells of
stale cigarette smoke and cheap whiskey,
hunger and thirst overwhelm him in that
he ignores the stench of the bar and eatery.
The brazen and sultry woman sits at his
table and begins to sing in a husky voice
while a man with a guitar accompanies her,
male patrons smile at her flamboyant low-cut
dress as she begins singing in a seductive mood:
Stranger you are handsome to look at
as I stare at you and purr like a cat,
let's get together and see
if something develops between you and me,
my name is Ventura, a lucky charm,
I want to be your woman and mean no harm,
please take me away from this place,
so I will not die here in disgrace.
It didn't take much convincing,
Ventura and the drifter rode off together
into the red sunset after the sand storm
on a long and bumpy ride on Moose with
his three-legged gait while the senorita
hung onto her billowing dress which
blew over her face.
Years passed and Ventura lying down and close to death,
confesses she loved a man named Hildago who left her
at the altar and filled her with humiliation before
family and friends until a drifter swept in and saved
her from mortification and disgrace,
her man of many years weeps for the woman who was
his lucky charm wearing a red dress whom he met at
El Rojos Cantina during a tumultuous desert storm.
August 8, 2016
He drifted into town
on his faithful quarter horse called Moose
who had a three-legged gait
which gave him saddle sores
when drifting from town-to-town.
A desert wind hit them hard,
he pulled his cowboy hat further down his face
so the sand wouldn't sting
his brown and and deep-set eyes,
he sees a faded sign in red lettering advertising,
'EL ROJAS CANTINA' as it bangs against
the adobe and tiled-roofed building.
A pretty senorita wearing a ruby-red dress
greets the unshaven drifter as he stumbles
through the double-saloon doors,
the cantina is dark and dank with smells of
stale cigarette smoke and spilled whiskey,
hunger and thirst overwhelm him as he
ignores the stench of the bar and eatery.
The sultry woman is brazen as she sits
at his table and begins to sing in her husky voice
while a man with a guitar accompanies her,
male townsfolk smile at her flamboyancy and
low-cut dress as she begins to sing in a seductive voice:
Stranger, you are handsome to look at
as I stare at you and purr like a cat,
let's get together and see
if something develops between you and me,
my name is Ventura, a lucky charm,
I want to become your woman and mean no harm,
please take me away from this place
so I will not die here in disgrace...
It didn't take much convincing,
Ventura and the drifter rode off together
into the red sunset after the sand storm on a
long and bumpy ride on Moose with his three-legged gait,
hanging unto her billowing dress which blew over her face.
After years passed, Ventura lying down and close to death,
confessed she loved a man named Hildago who left her
at the altar and filled her with humiliation before family and
friends until a drifter swept in and stayed with her until the end,
her man of many years weeps for the women who was
his lucky charm in a red dress whom he met at the
El Rojos Cantina during a tumultuous desert storm.
Vexation seeps through sighs
As the pen finds comfort
Sharing the same story
Nonsensical pretty boys
With smoke cloud habits
And bloodshot ponderings
Vaunting on their
Newsworthy delinquency
With incessant metal bar consequences
Promulgating in the same breath
they’re gaining
New ground
Breaking the cleanse
Of poisoning
Their liver
And feeling the linear
Coldness of a countertop
On their nose
With a half glass of water
In a ring of loneliness
On their nightstand
The gulp of insomnia
Rudely digs its hook of candidness
In your empathic being
Melodramatic memories
Of empty dinner table
Upbringings
Spending school nights
Placing cigarettes
In plastic bottles
With front porch
Heart to hearts
With their second self
Pulling the sleeves
Of sweatshirts once borrowed
Over tattooed knuckles
Shivering against the disbelief
That loyalty in this town
Is only face to face
Rehashing
first heartbreaks
With the outlook
That mistrust follows
Demons
That look just like you
The way you
Introduce yourself
With skintight beliefs
Low cut distractions
Met with
Amorous disposition
Abrade their thoughts
Of you from tantalizing
To discomfiture
And their ears
Can’t handle
Opprobrium especially from their friends
When you would
Put fingers
In yours like an obstinate child
Just to keep
Looking at them
With oblivious blissful daydreams
Even if you were
Stumbling drunk
Out of their broken front door the night before
After learning
They sent flowers to someone else
Like a man with his paramour
Leaving your existence
In a blighted state
Surrounded by empty walls
For
They
Took it all
But don’t worry
The guilt of breaking your heart
Is easier for them to swallow
Than the nausea
Traveling up their throat
With the spew of your adoration
The Green Silk Dress
Eons back in time, was a tall maiden fair
A long pair of legs and equally long blond hair.
A green silk dress, she once did espy
The colour would pick the green out in her eyes.
Daily she traveled to the emporium so grand,
She gazed in the window from where she did stand.
The dress was a symbol of all her wants and desires
The size correct, the colour perfection, her gaze did not tire
The bus journey she undertook to see this perfect creation
Desperate to try it on, but the thrill was the anticipation.
It called to her soul, day and night she shed tears
Because the dress she knew may only magnify her fears
The low cut neck, on the silk sleeveless floating gown
Would fit and cling, and make many turn around.
Eyes would follow, people would admire
The tall blonde girl in green silk, would set many a man on fire.
The day came when she turned up to look,
The sale was made the receipt in the book.
The dress was now gone from the naked manikin
Hers dreams were gone, though they did not begin…
No silk dress to bring out the colour in her eyes,
No clinging fabric her curves to emphasise.
With the loss of her dress her dream did die too
Returning home sadly, her countenance now blue.
With tears in her eyes, she had turned and left dazed
Never again would she stand there and lovingly gaze.
Life passed her by and her one funny regret
Was never to step though the door, and try in and yet…
It taught her a lesson she was ready to learn...
Regrets are plenty, when for something you yearn
Sometimes one needs to step through that door
It may be the one thing you have been searching for...
It may have turned out that the dress did not fit,
The colour may not have suited, or it pinched a little bit.
But one thing for sure she will now never know
Because she did not have the courage-to give it a go…
© 7/10/2012
Kenya lived a rather dull life unto the point
she decided to get involved with Malik.
Kenya was
a plain looking black woman in her 30's
who never had any real luck with men.
The next day was Saturday so it
was Kenya's day off. She spent most of
her time shopping and paying bills. She
pulled into the Emerald Lady parking
lot. She got out
of her 2003 BMW and went inside.
Looking for something to make Malik
notice her.
She picked out a low cut v-neck red top,
a short black skirt that flattered her
figure, and black knee high boots.
Kenya paid $236 for the attention of a
man. I must be crazy thought Kenya as
she handed the cashier the money.
Walking back through the Emerald Lady
parking Lot Kenya
bumped into Nubia her
one and only friend. Nubia was the
owner of Hair City which Kenya was a
faithful customer to. Nubia stood six feet,
was dark as midnight, very beautiful, and
had dreadlocks that were shoulder length.
Nubia greeted Kenya with a hug. "How
are you doing?"
Nubia asked Kenya. "As fine as can be"
answered Kenya. "Can I do a walk in
today?" "Now Kenya you know you're my
homegirl I'll look out for you. Just let
me run in and grab a
few things real quick". It didn't take
Nubia no time to pick out somethings and
pay
for them. Kenya followed Nubia back to
her hair salon. Nubia unlocked the
doors to Hair City and had Kenya to take a
seat. "So what's up?". Asked Nubia.
Kenya was glowing but Nubia didn't know
why.
written by Keith Edward Baucum aka Red
Seven
Seven aka The Brown Philosopher aka
The Green Poet