Long Skirts Poems
Long Skirts Poems. Below are the most popular long Skirts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Skirts poems by poem length and keyword.
I feel as if I could see — is it shock?
The wind from the flying skirts hit my face.
Music starts getting louder; the walls rock.
Within all the people, I feel my trace.
Warm skin on mine, every touch feels like fire.
I'm standing high, like the moon over the room.
My dancing legs calling my blind eyes liar.
People keep looking at me while I bloom.
I don't need to see as long as I feel.
Why even try to cry if there's no eye?
Bodies tickling, spinning around like wheels.
I know for sure tonight won't break the heel.
It's a feeling through moves that never stop.
If your eyesight goes, you'll still see a lot.
Encountered some drivers
In a mall parking lot
Absolutely blew my li'l ole mind
Rude and obnoxious
Only way to describe 'em
What's with this self absorbed kind
Seems so damn important
To always be first
Are there no more “courteous” drivers
Are they gone with hoop skirts
And Saddle Shoes
Happy to say I'm a survivor
It's much like a war zone
As they race for a space
What's happened, where's chivalry gone
People on crutches
Men stooped over
Fair game for this bunch of morons
I'll get off my soapbox
Attempt to mellow out
What I saw was beyond comprehension
If I used foul language
I'd be just like them
Must be living in different dimension
© Jack Ellison 2013
Us guys never lose our love for the opposite sex
It's deeply engrained in our psyche
It's obvious every single day of our lives
We travel life's highway admiring the scenery passing by
This one make me sit up and take notice
That one turns my rusty old crank
Now this one over here makes me salivate
Us males continue the need to refresh our canvas
We easily get bored with the same old, same old
Variety they say is the spice of life
In my case, it's the whole kit and caboodle!
So keep on keeping on with your provocativeness
As long as I'm still alive and kicking
I'll continue to admire the female form in all it's glory
Your charm will never go unnoticed
Long live short skirts!
© Jack Ellison 2014
I awoke to a memory that asked to be felt through the emotions of
An early rising seeing boys playing in the park without wondering
about the meaning of life because at that time life had no
meaning only to be lived and enjoyed in the moment
And I wondered
Was it better then as a tear climbed downward on the lines carved deeply in a
face that had
Seen so much and loved so fervently
Those days when a sandlot became an arena and the ringing
of laughter echoed
Through a neighborhood
Where there were skinned knees and sprained ankles but hearts were left
Unharmed and the gladiators had not seen 13 yet
While skirts were still a reason for giggling and it was more important to reach
first base from the hot corner than it was
To acknowledge her smile because
We were warriors with a common bond
BROTHERS
The sun is shining brightly
On high and in my heart
Can't think of any good reason
Why my happy is off the chart
Could it just be a fluctuation
In my everyday ebb and flow
Or am I about to inherit a fortune
Perhaps fifty million or so
That'd get my heart a-pumping
Have to go lie down I fear
Gotta survive to really enjoy my luck
At least for a few more years
Maybe a trip to some exotic place
Where the girlies dress in grass skirts
Swing and sway oh what a scene
This stress I must try to avert
Always been a real big sucker
For members of the opposite sex
They drive me wild, my eyes bug out
I stutter and stammer, by heck
How bout that, my fine feathered friends
Survived another bout of girly-itis
One day it's sure gonna get me good
When it renders me totally speechless
The sun is shining brightly
On high and in my heart
Do you know why I'm so pooping happy
Coz of the joy you do impart<>
If Dr. King was here today at us he would probably shout
for us to stop making excuses and find a way to work it out
we're constantly stressed and we just need to see
that misery loves nothing more than to have some company
always with our stories and drama is our calling card
nothing worthwhile is easy and we think our problems have gotten hard
so stuck in our ruts and unwilling to try anything new
incapable of looking at life from God's point of view
no more excuses allow God to move you along
it's time to stop singing that same old tired song
climb out of that river named denial and start swimming ahead
let God guide your story so your life will be spirit led
no more excuses we have now been vindicated
a Black man in the Oval Office we've been validated
to look through the lens of grace which is the eyes of God
to get a new attitude and make a fresh start
to man up, to stand up and start taking care of our own
to be productive human beings, independent and now grown
no more excuses and if you go out and make babies
be the head of your household and support your family
if they won't let you coach the team but will let you play
walk away from that organization right away
if they'll let your join a group but won't let you lead
that is not the association in this life that you need
guys pull up your pants and girls pull down your skirts
you have too many choices in life than to be just thugs or flirts
walk with your heads held high for now you're on higher ground
you've been elevated by God and have no more excuses now
no more excuses, no more reasons to just complain
learn to pay it forward so your living won't be in vain
no more excuses be willing to make a sacrifice
like Jesus the Christ did for you when He gave His life
to look out for each other and always willing to lend a hand
to love one another like the Lord Our God did plan
no more excuses step out of your comfort zone
and remember you're not in this world alone
remember and respect your elders who fought and cried for you
acknowledge them always and give them their proper due
speak life to your children and encourage them to succeed
for they are the future and the fruits of our seeds
no more excuses let the Lord God guide your story
to live by His Holy Word and to give Him all the glory
Plenty is forsaken
Before
Serenity is Awkened
Vehemence of flames devour branches
Fire's wicked lick strikes long bark skirts
Devastation ashen flattened unrecognisable
Has a seemingly insurmountable task
Charcoal spurs awakening of tiny children
Stubborn sprouts assert their need with a shove
Koalas discarded crawl tentatively back to snack
Goannas gratefully lap at ash powdered puddles
Great Southern Land is a Lady on a mission
Renowned for whole hearted hatred challenging
Hard nosed creatures created to recover, resume
Their calm rightful realm of red stemmed growth
Abundance is given a great chance in our Autumn
Eucalypt wave flags of ever shifting resilience
Terror of fire has no existence in their ambition
Vibrant tiles of lime tickle black yesterday's belly
18th August 2020
Written for Contest: Serenity Awakened
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
How like Eliot it is in tone.
Even the landscape has the grime
of London in each line. I must have been
no more than nineteen when I wrote
the poem caught in the spell of his hypnotic
rhythm and rhymes.
The bright, clean air of my home
was seen through the filter
of a foreign fog, his soulful exhaustion
washed a gray tide across my youth.
He stood as a monument in whose shadow
nothing could grow.
Prufrock haunted the back alleys
of my mind, a rebel almost in the guise
of a comic. He was hardly me
in a world of pub rock and cold beers
on lazy, sun drenched Aussie afternoons -
no rolled up trousers but instead,
reefers, flared pants and mini skirts
and a future balanced on the whim
of a conscription ballot
hanging over my head.
Feel the fever of soul’s fire,
the flame of thirsting warmth,
soaked in sins and silence ~
like petals parched for passion;
the rain that mourns softly
without the voice of thunder,
yet every phrase I frame
sounds like sonnets stitched from
sparks of sinister stars,
studded into the spirit of splitting skies…
So forgive my toxic truth,
vines of violence, venomous vapors
flowing through vain veins
like sensuous scents,
awaiting the kiss of a Gemini sacrifice.
O gardener of dreams, storm-keeper,
in your eyes there sprouts hope ~
paradise pressed in patience,
while I, the devious dahlia,
forgot how to trace suppressed highs,
homing sighs of an obsidian rose…
I still long for your reveries
to deflower and devour
the delicacy of incense,
blooming and breathing
in secret beneath skirts of sepals;
you hold the divine strings,
musing in the melodious garden
of my touch-starved heart,
wishing your skin
would undress this want,
fingertips tapping tulip tempests…
Tonight ink keeps quivering
like a cherry blossom
on a wounded branch,
unclothing scars and metaphors
I weave to articulate an aching armor,
preserving the poison within…
For every throb and echo of arteries
could steal the heat of the moon,
scribbling a simple saga
on the calmness of your palm…
And if, to unlock this darkness,
love must forsake all peace,
if, to claim your light,
pulse must please the pigments
running through lethal lines,
I will not ask you
to bleed or burn for me;
I’ll surrender to solitude ~
quenched in quiescence
in the fields of the forgotten,
evermore, a love-sick letter unsent…
Your feelings in a group of touring innocence
travel up North towards trust and sincerity
in sweet submissive care like a carefully rubbed suede.
You put day light into your entrapment
for noontide to go nonstop.
Caress from yonder, massage from under
your skirts make appetite nonchalantly mourn
your legs present so nutraceutical to manly weakness.
If your bones are licked by wild beasts
the jungle would be protected by the ghost of sweet affection.
If the rains fall through the planes of your body
vapours of lust and desires will spring out of the Earth.
Your expensive flare, expresses you as a needed nougat
sliding pleasurably though wet lips in a greasy enjoyment of noodles
with aroma and taste capping up a nouvelle cuissine.
Night is dead from your day-long engaging chemistry
making the aggression of your nubile emission
in ration to any attempted resistance an improper fraction
when the night's light strike your contrasting body
for the creation of a mobile image so dark and graceful,
nature will sit down beauty for a serious interview.