Long Satins Poems
Long Satins Poems. Below are the most popular long Satins by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Satins poems by poem length and keyword.
Garage sales are fun but estate sales are even better
I love looking through other people’s incredible stuff
It is a great way to find that kooky Christmas sweater
To find red petticoats and turquoise jewelry for a cuff.
An album full of photos of people from the olden days
Paisley bell bottoms from the seventies and a fur vest
Classic 1940’s pinstriped suits in navy’s and gray’s
And a beautiful Birdseye maple homemade chest
I take a peek at this lady’s baubles, buttons and bows.
In oranges, greens, silvers, satins, and periwinkle blue.
She has left them behind in meticulously straight little rows
I may have to buy a few. How about you?
Come one, come all, to the grand affair!
The emperor sells his finest robes bare!
After a child called out: "He has no clothes"
What would the crowd bid for those?
The emperor beamed, modelling his finest gown.
Woven in gold thread, with jewels all around.
Silks and satins, woven with skill in fancy seams,
To be auctioned off, as the suit of his dreams.
The crowd cheered, adoring his gall and pride,
While hiding their giggles and snickers aside.
“Such courage!” they cried with a mischievous grin,
To auction off his birthday suit he was born in!
The auctioneer cried: "Now come on what is bid"
For the world finest, in invisible clothes hid.
For these Emperor clothes are fit for a King!
Who knows what fame and fortune they will bring?
The room ignited, the bidding went wild,
As emperor posed, smiled; he was so beguiled!
"Sold!" cried the auctioneer, banging his hammer,
To the nudist, wearing his pride with such glamour.
I want so bad in Casarah’s pants
She said I had to offer up some romance
Off we went to a local dance
I bought her a flower, a beer, and a Big Mac too
She said not quite enough but it will have to do
So in my truck that has no doors
I apologized and said no seat, its on the floor
She smiled and sat, I gathered in anticipation
Of having me in her bedroom a waiting
Little did I realize I'd wish to be vacating
We arrived at her home, at half past twelve
She said grab a beer, cause my hubby is here
I said what the hell, your hubby you say?
She said, why yes where else would he stay?
So I grabbed a beer thinking ok this is a wee bit *****
I was confused, I will tell you that
Her hubby smiled at me like a dirty rat
He had some rope and a little duct tape
This sure wasn’t what I figured on this ol date
From bad to worse, I resigned myself to fate
She calmly said, what could you have possibly thought?
I brought you here, for our pleasures of naught
We will tie you up and start the game
We are the masters, and you have no claim
Now what’s a little pain? so please, don’t try to abstain
Tied and bound what could I do?
They had their pleasures without further adieu
I did the dishes, the vacuuming and the laundry too
Not an easy task tied in ropes by those two
Broken and tormented and tired as heck
I soon plotted my escape up north to Quebec
This Gothic nightmare must come to and end
Else these two satins will drive me round the bend
So I unbound the ropes holding me so tight
Managed to escape into the dark frigid night
What do think of Gay Pheasant, the Lord, she asked me.
Meg had apparently invited him to her afternoon tea.
He is a bit persnickety and prissy I said to my cousin.
Meg is always being sought by suiters, sometimes a dozen.
He seems to like me Meg told me, I can kind of tell.
I could see that she did not know him at all well.
He likes his male companions the best, I said.
Meg did not get the picture, was she right in the head?
He dresses so fancy in brocades, silks, and satins too.
I think we would be such a sweet couple, don’t you?
He seems to best get along with our cousin Boy Sue.
If that was not the best hint, then what else could I do?
It is no small act that follows
no leaps nor bounds
as we are bound
the square, white-washed walls
crumbling, no doors, no sound
but who are we
are we not what one perceives
stuck to our one room box
we break down walls
chains
colour splashes from our minds
deep duck pond greens
clouded and clumsy periwinkle blues
rich like yellow satins
seducing our sky
dawning light down upon our eye
the back, the forth
smoke filled haze
tapping on the shoulder
a tapestry of the trumpets
tip tapping away
we sway
outside the room
pressures pierce the skull
they look inside
they see mirrors
a reflection of their kind
their closed mind
set in their ways and their worries
the world has ended for them
as the books and the doors shut
clenching rosaries and a plethora of pills
to beat the heart or dull the thrills
we're no dolls, nor drills, not make believe
we burn, we live, we breathe
our colours crimson
our lips bitten
our cheeks singed from the sun
blood stains our sanctuary
we don't whine, we will
yes we will
Rise
rise up from the duldroms
the blase acrimony
walk upon the broken glass
bleed
unhook harnesses holding you back
show off your bosoms
your tiger, your grit
stop bending over looking at your rear
trying to replicate yesteryear
storms are fast approaching
thunder fills the halls
be that lightning
a tempest igniting
One, uniquely one,
and all
A misty fog dissipates at Dawn's first light,
yet a glaze of morning dew lingers.
And a scarlet sun slowly rises,
on this misty Autumn morn.
Through hope, or happy happenstance,
I perceive an undertone of whispers;
as silks and satins rustle
in the breeze, with a telltale flutter.
An Angel has strayed from heaven,
her beauty holds me transfixed.
And as her smile greets mine,
we embrace and passionately kiss.
Her lips unlock my heart, with keys of desire,
oblivious to sin or folly.
And curious tongues indulge in exploration,
acquiescing to passion's will.
Aroused, we succumb to naked flesh,
skinny-dipping in intimate pools of pleasure.
And synchronize our heartbeats with
the opus of our souls.
Everywhere I look, everywhere I turned
I see what he took in what I have learned
No segment neglected no group denied
God's glory's deflected by satins own pride
All throughout the land, in every family
Nor do they understand, unable to see
Like a shadow following you around
Happy to know you'll never be found
Looking high and low even far and wide
We all know that Jesus has been denied
Day in and day out and year after year
This daily bout gets more and more clear
Can you see any of this or are you blind
I'd be remissed to say they're easy to find
So subtle is he as he woo's you away
But if that was me I'd begin to pray
Galatians 6:7-9
Do not be deceived: God is not mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap. For the one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life. And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not quit.
Princess Martina Matilda Marianna Mouse,
held the most wondrous parties in any house;
with the finest imported Cheshire and Brie,
served up with green olives and black tea.
In her finest satins and imported lace,
this fair princess with a divine face
would serve her guests with ecstatic glee
though if you preferred you could have Chablis.
Truly she told the most wonderful jokes,
sure to split the sides of any bloke;
the room did light up when she arrived;
her fondue she flavored with the finest chives.
Fresh homemade breads were dipped in her pot;
Maestro Mouse always dripped cheese on his ascot.
She now provides bibs for their dining ease,
when eating her luscious liquid cheese.
Her Asiago will tickle your empty tum-tum;
sometimes she serves Jamaican Spiced Rum.
There's Cantal and Bel, Blue and Havarti;
Stilton, Provolone Reggiano and Testouri.
Her goal in life is to ultimately see,
everyone in the world enjoying great cheese.
And there's nothing like her Truffle Delights,
which she serves at parties on Saturday night.
A most generous hostess, Martina takes pride
in serving the disabled at the curbside;
no one ever goes hungry with Martina around,
she also gives etiquette lessons in town.
We all had homemade dresses for prom; well, nearly all of us.
This was back in 1970 while black and white Viet Nam War photos were on TV
Every night, we saw such sadness.
Prom was a reminder of childhood.
Back to the Bibbity Bobbity Boo of Cinderella.
We girls were wearing empire waist dresses.
It was the style, little bows at the top of our hair.
We were fancy poodles, primping in our two inch heels.
Not high ones like our mothers. We had already fallen off those.
Traded in our hip hugger bell bottoms that magical night
For dresses in chiffon, polished cotton, and satins.
We were so shiny, it is a miracle a murder of crows did not carry us off.
The boys had on their best suits; not tuxes.
We were in a small Iowa farm town.
Many of the couples would marry two weeks later after graduation.
I remember how hard the junior class worked to make it beautiful for us.
There were tin foil stars and crepe paper streamers everywhere.
A strobe light, and music piped in from the folk heroes of the time.
Peter Paul and Mary, Mama Cass, Simon and Garfunkel.
Sometimes a song by Cher or Bette Midler but not as often.
The food was fantastic. The company wonderful.
Our first semi-formal dinner. I have never forgotten it.
In one way it was like middle school which we called junior high.
The boys stood around talking and laughing, and the girls danced like mad.
It was such an innocent and fun time! Taking the Viet Nam War,
And the assassinations of John F. Kennedy, Robert Kennedy and Dr. Martin Luther King
Out of our minds for one magical bibbity bobbity boo night.
May 1970. A memory that uplifts me to this day.
The last time I spoke to some of my classmates.
As a few were sent to Viet Nam after graduation never to return.
3rd march 2012,malvan.
Waves diffuse themselves on sandy shores repeat,
Like fresh feelings in young lover’s kiss, their pristine emotions upbeat.
Youthful hearts pant and gasp, volcanic emotions erupt,
Like Twilight rays caress blue waters and foam splits abrupt.
As night she festoons her darkness a more,
Temptation flares within youthful flesh like burning flames galore.
White virgin sands dormant they spread and lay waiting,
Like warm satins spreads for nocturnal love making.
Dim lit fishing boats tied to their anchors they beacon flash and float,
Akin fresh youthful body lying in wait for the mate ,it’s voluptuousness to note .
Alone here in serene surroundings, feel the caress of the orange light of setting sun,
Tingle in my heart and my emotions wild they have begun to run……..
Rising moon reflects in the shimmering waters all blue,
Like the joys from my heart emerge on to the expressions on my face without ado.
Elegance radiates from the skies as the stars jauntily they dance
Her tasseled hair, and the sweet smell of love’s nectar drive me into a trance.
Diaphanous sea breeze carries supple love’s words unspoken,
Blackened progdious velvet skies nestles my copious passions that are still unbroken.
By: Sashi.Prabhu (zeauoxian)