Long Manikin Poems
Long Manikin Poems. Below are the most popular long Manikin by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Manikin poems by poem length and keyword.
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
after the dance we opened the doors
dampness surrounded this place maroon drapes
paisley patterns blinded my emotions license plates
of james dean covered the pine paneling only in the back
funny how a pair of levi's could bring about
such lonliness but there was james standing there
leaning up against his motorcycle flickering that cigarette
i had dreamed of life away from a smoked filled room
however i was being forced fed macho manner
by mere bruts tyrants wearing tightly fitted pinky rings
shuffling their feet quickly my only thought was that of
the stingrays sharp shooters how their eyes are morbidly
unseen right before they strike their prey i wouldn't even
speak of away from tropical shirts and the pelicans beak
an yet after the dance we had entered this think tank
of sea urchants mere leaches all reaching for small time
scores the same old crabs in the same old bucket
one by one pulling the one closet to the top back down
to scurry sideways with the bottom feeders night crawlers
here i am again your place their place our place i wondered
if they noticed me at all or was i just a cold curvy bottle
of coke a cola to be placed on a red and white canvas
in front of knitted covered candles or was i just a manikin
leaning against that timeless old seeburg continuing to drag
the needle slowly across the nylon fibers of my favorite record
over and over again like filing my broken nail or fussing over
another run in my stocking who needs stocking why i was simply
this forgotten mermaid among a school of green eyed hungry sharks
but then there was james a mere mirage gazing down route 66 in land
catering to the backside of those levi's oh wait here he comes again
he's going to ask me to dance what will i say oh my feet hurt or just
say no shoes tonight shall we swim out of here my mind tossed to and froe
i just couldn't bare to waste a perfectly good pair of fins don't you know
Leftward went his stride, counter to the sun he strode.
They said he was magicked hence by the fairies
or was a mechanical manikin
witched up from a pot of spells.
Old widdershins had a stove pipe hat
and his clothes were plucked from a crow
he was a longshanks, and wicker-boned,
when he circled a church counterclockwise
old wives muttered about the ‘devils work’
but he was just crook-legged and addled.
Queen Mab midwife of the odd and less ordinary
made him from willow cane and burnt straw
and when he circled the wrong way all day
it was only to stabilize the penny-farthings
that roamed around country churches back when.
The land, despite dire warnings,
did not lose itself in a maze of sorrows,
for all was an enchanted misdirection
a hocus-pocus roundabout detour,
a contrary conjecture
that right was always right despite,
and left was just a gauche and a gangly wish.
You left me Ha!
Off you go
You think I need you
Hit the road
I can find someone else
To walk on my chest
You weren’t that good
You’re certainly not the best
I’ve seen a manikin wearing thong
But on you girl it looked all wrong
Just to let you know your underarms had a serious pong
And I’d rather kiss the likes of King Kong
As for your bra size
I could rent them out as two unfurnished flats
Don’t forget when you leave
To take your witch’s hats
Your brooms ahead of you girl
With my shoes up the ass of your black cat
When you were young you must have been a scary child
buy the way is that hair real makes you look all wild
You call that a weave or was it a perm
Either way it made me squirm
I always knew that I was too good for you
Consider this note expressing that we through
Like an intimate massage,
our lips embrace in a kiss.
And in that perfect moment,
two hearts experience bliss.
Love grows exponentially,
getting stronger with each day.
For once rooted in my soul,
nothing can take it away.
At the birth of our daughter,
my heart nearly burst with pride.
For your tears of happiness
touched me, and I cried inside.
A broken remnant of war,
I'm more manikin than man.
But love rallies around me,
and I do the best I can.
Behind a bastion of hope,
my spirit's undefeated.
And yet, deep in my being,
I can't help but feel cheated.
(Quatrain)
11/12/2015
Do you gurgle, grunt, and gripe,
grind the soft bones of thought dry?
You need some orchestration,
some instrumental tuning.
Play with those ad hoc glottalized vibes,
harmonize.
The body, that geomungos collection
of agrarian earth animalcules
which work for themselves alone,
tilling mud, repairing dykes
& ditches,
that biological chain gang
that works on robotically
within a symbiotic conglomerate
others have put a name to,
that commune of the blind
it needs to be honored for its industry.
It is your manikin self – wind it up with
new tunes.
It has to be warbled to,
bill & coo some
as if it were a real child.
it needs lullabies and ballads,
calm it with gentle glissandos.
Be not crotchety.
Even if your own voice
is an amphibian nightmare
that growls off key,
sing soto voce -
be a body whisperer.
You may still
grapple occasionally
with those galumphing
gargoyles of your flesh,
but love will be in you
like a soft pretzel,
you will be tasty and salty,
not sad and sickly.
Your tide will turn,
your shore will be giddy
with the sounding of your songs,
the swirling pipes of your soul.
Your comforted body will purr
upon the lap of sleep
like a well-nourished tabby cat
or squeak not
like well-oiled piano stool.
Some get over a bad childhood,
they rise to the top of a hill
to set fire to the bloody rags of a choiceless youth.
The beacon flares, below a forest
of wide-eyed animals
watch as the sacrifice, now a smoldering fawn,
blunders among them, its throat cut and bleeding.
Others drag around a blind doll,
day by day the macabre manikin grows larger,
its face a picture of apathy,
for apathy is the ghostly dress of
all long dead ballerinas.
That hand-stitched doll
gets too heavy to bear, and so daily,
they must give it away to beggars and saints,
The doll is insane, its pain is a robber's key
that returns to unlock any cardboard castle,
or iron fortress.
When the wild dogs come
to scavenge among the bones of a childhood,
throw them something raw and still wriggling,
let them slaver and chew it over,
until they sicken,
then chop off their gray heads,
one by one.
What is that central pole
does it hold up a voice like a brazen spine?
And the many rooms
all of them built to be seen
with no modesty nor privacy.
Rooms where the talking clacks
never pausing, never harkening.
There are mouths
in the air free-floating.
This artless architecture, does it say itself
as a poem does?
Or does it clatter and broadcast its presence
turning, revolving as a display will.
There are holes in this unstructured edifice,
holes where mice
go to eat their own bones.
Look! It is a brain, it is calcified
a rabid ego haunts it.
Can it be covered up, subdued, made to speak
only when spoken to?
Or is it a robotic manikin that will drive your being
while you sleepwalk
through its hollow domain?
My friends and I had midnight hide and seek
One had to stand by a tree and not peek
In my state of hiding great I was hard to find
My friends decided to just be unkind
They all got together and decided to hunt me down
I first hid in the river near my house and almost drown
When they walk close by me I silently move through the grass
It was very hard to see, but I crawled a long time and almost ran out of gas
Then I heard one say that they were going up and wait by the tree
I had an idea that made a way to make them see
A shadow that ran in the distance thinking that would be
I had my horse pull a little manikin to make them think it was me
My friends took their flashlight and shined it toward it
I thought I had them but one thing was clear they did not fall for it not a bit
They all laugh and started to call out my name
They all asked how the heck did you have time to pull that trick that was so lame
I did not answer so they kept on looking for me, but I was so quick
Some of my friends started to get really mad and tick
I was a master of doing weird things they all knew what I can do
The night was still young and the grass was collecting dew
I decided to make a distraction once again
To think of it, it would probably make the night end
My friends finally surrounded my tree house
I was quiet, so quiet, more than a mouse
I had some rope in the tree house to make my escape
To distract them I made a loud noise like an ape
The tree that my tree house was in was at least forty feet up
I had some stash in my tree house a drink or two in a cup
My final hour is about to end I did not want my friends to catch me till I got to the tree
I took the rope and tide it on a branch and pushed off and that was the key
I landed on the garage roof and sneaked my way to the tree
My friends knew me to well that they plan things before I could see
They had a fish net ready for me to step into
I thought that was kinda wise and some what like pew
The few feet by the tree there was two of my friends that was ready
Up in the tree they both jumped down and pulled me up in the net fast and steady
They thought they had won, the person had to tag me before I touch tree
She ended up having to get something to stand on to reach me
I swung my weight back and forth till I ended up touching and the game ended
My friends and I were so full of surprises and that is what the game handed