Long Trouser Poems
Long Trouser Poems. Below are the most popular long Trouser by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trouser poems by poem length and keyword.
And we sat under
A gazebo that sat
Under palm trees,
Standing and smiling
At our seashore,
Emptying kegs of
Palmwine in our
Calabash and...
And then emptying
The calabash in our
Stomachs...
An exquisite experience,
I daresay!
The periwinkle-gatherer
Alighted from her
Canoe that arrived from
Upper sea, bending in her
Walk, no gratitude to her
Culture. Beside her followed
Her shadow, ever faithfully.
Their movement our common
Entertainment as we emptied
More fills of our calabash in us...
Entered the Crier, crying, like
A crying Cricket,
"The Archbishop of Canterbury,
And the Pope have now
Legalized a Skirt and another
Skirt together, and a Trouser
And its kind together!"
We unveiled the Holy Book,
In our flabbergastedness,
Afterwards, and replayed
The Crier's cry in our heads.
"A pity, for this shall soon be
Written in you by the Unknown
In Time to come and be said to
Be of the good God."
Were our only audibility.
We looked up and behold the gyre
For the legalization inundated
Our Vicinity! For the Crier's cries
Had spread its legs like a rumor.
Sadly, my partner patted her hairs
And we returned to our kegs,
Contemplating...
The Love Cup, Northern Star.
by
Lem Griffiths
Dash it..,
Dash it all says I..,
Through bars - I espy.
Their 'eaven, their night sky.
Well.., dash it.,
Let 'em have it.,
And the Northern-
Love cup-stars,
In a wisp of sudden sea fog.,
Like breath on a cold night..,
I'm seeing.., me seven,
Her eight, maybe nine..,
All that way back in time -
At her gate,
Afore her Father bade her in,
And I, espied that 'handle-form' of fate..,
A 'twinklin' in lavender-hued.,
Summers sky., that's long been.
In Welsh she bids me, 'Goodnight., 'Nos da'.., North star.,
Aye.., the words..,
And my world ne'er-'gain found -
Press ganged and stormy life and seas bound.
Though my mind, as long and latitudes -
This way, 'heave an' ho lads'
And to..., and fro..,
Has ne'er forgotten..,
Though long, long,
A thousand seas ago.
No.., Not by the strings at my trouser knee,
Nor the candles ablaze 'pon my hat.., but
Too much 'Devilling at sea' 'as passed,
Too much what's called a sin,
If only an invite to her Birthday gathering.,
When I was a young Jim.
But it be, my lot, 'mayhap' - a pirate..,
Not long.., afore the gallows., nigh.,
Through the bars I see.., above them.,
That cup o' love, northern cup of the stars,
If only that younger I,
Aye..,
Below a younger sky.
Dash it..,
Dash it all says I..,
Through bars - I espy.
Their 'eaven, their night sky.
Well.., dash it.,
Let 'em have it.,
And the Northern-
Love cup-stars,
In a wisp of sudden sea fog.,
Like breath on a cold night..,
I'm seeing.., me seven,
Her eight, maybe nine..,
All that way back in time -
At her gate,
Afore her Father bade her in,
And I, espied that 'handle-form' of fate..,
A 'twinklin' in lavender-hued.,
Summers sky., that's long been.
In Welsh she bids me, 'Goodnight., 'Nos da'.., North star.,
Aye.., the words..,
And my world ne'er-'gain found -
Press ganged and stormy life and seas bound.
Though my mind, as long and latitudes -
This way, 'heave an' ho lads'
And to..., and fro..,
Has ne'er forgotten..,
Though long, long,
A thousand seas ago.
No.., Not by the strings at my trouser knee,
Nor the candles ablaze 'pon my hat.., but
Too much 'Devilling at sea' 'as passed,
Too much what's called a sin,
If only an invite to her Birthday gathering.,
When I was a young Jim.
But it be, my lot, 'mayhap' - a pirate..,
Not long.., afore the gallows., nigh.,
Through the bars I see.., above them.,
That cup o' love, northern cup of the stars,
If only that younger I,
Aye..,
Below a younger sky.
30/08/2021 Last Sigh<
The seam was torn and its gap ignored,
in the canvas tent at the campsite.
Dark clouds surged from the west,
appearing suddenly over the Kentucky hills
just as the evening sky turned pink.
The parents' eyes met with understanding.
He had been sure it wouldn’t rain
during this get-away weekend--
had ignored her pleadings.
Comfort found in a nickel’s worth of thread.
The preparation was made in great haste,
in response to the call of distress,
regarding the death of a close relative,
on a cold winter day in March.
He packed his suit with other clothes,
remembered underwear and shaving kit,
but not a belt or suspenders,
so the trouser button did all the work.
Reassurance found in a nickel’s worth of thread.
A toddler walked up to the ledge,
not sensing danger or a threat,
until a parent grabbed it just in time,
before the fatal plunge.
The grasp was firm, the fingers tight
around the fabric of the shirt,
to save a life when buttons held,
and the danger was soon forgotten.
Safety found in a nickel’s worth of thread.
Inside a classroom of a Fourth-grade elementary pupils in early 1990s, pupils were asked by their Speech and Writing teacher to write anything about Christmas.
One male pupil, not a good reader/writer, wrote something else in an acrostic form...
C - Christ, cousins, casino, church, caroling,
Christmas cards, candies, Christmas
Tree, Chess, Care Bears, chocolates,
ChocNut
H - Happy family, Handycam, homily, ham,
hunting, horse, hope
R - Relatives, recycling, renovation, recital,
roller coaster, roller skating, rowing,
running, restaurant, rent payment
Red Riding Hood, Robin Hood,
Richie Rich, Rumplestiltskin
I - Inspirational people, icicles, ice cream,
igloo, ibex, Intramurals
S - Snow, snowman, superheroes, Santa Claus,
saints, Snow White, Simpsons, sparrows,
squirrels, Sesame Street
T - Trips, television, tennis, table tennis,
trouser, typhoon, tornado, Typewriter,
Telephone, Telephone booth,
tranquilizer, The Flintstones, Tom and Jerry,
The Jetsons, turkey
M - Mother, Mary, minister, magic, monkey,
Mary See, medicines, money, motel,
Mickey Mouse, Mr. Bean, Miss Universe
pageant, movies, My Teacher, My 2 crush
A - Angels, Angelus prayer, ABBA and all
good, beautiful "A"s in this World
S - Sweater, stars, sand, singing, strolling,
spelunking, skateboarding, swimming,
skydiving, skiing, Smurfs, Scrabble, soup
Every pupil was called to read his/her own writing in front of the class. The said male pupil was asked about her two (2) crush with initials "OK" and "MS" and said:
"OK is the female Belarusian gymnast who introduced the deadly 'Korbut flip' in the World Olympics and "MS is the young, great tennis player from Yugoslavia."
You start your day before rays hit earth,
Oh darling, did you catch all your worms?
Rushing through figures like bees in a prairie,
Did you manage to fly above?
You sit at your desk and take a breath,
Either you’re punctual or you’re dead.
One task after another, when did time pass by?
To-do lists occupy your mind.
Have you eaten? Oh, dear you haven’t!
C’mon you gotta fuel your body lil guy.
With a sigh you push yourself up,
The noise of cracking bone surrounds.
Birds of a feather, eat together,
Beings that preach live love and laugh,
You think about the life you’re living now,
A race you have to run, with or without you will;
At least you can’t lose where you’re the only contender.
Dissociation is a tactic to wonder,
You realise when your buddy snaps you out.
Pack your back and go home, it’s late;
Let’s walk home together you say,
It has been a good day mate,
No coffee spilled on your trouser.
Chuckles leave your mouth as you grin,
You nudge their shoulder and walk away.
A place called home finds your sight,
Must feel great to be inside,
Healthy, happy and moisturised;
On your bed with closed doors and nightlights,
Maybe you’ve already reached the land of dreams;
I have an inkling I’m wrong about you, unlike they say,
As I heard your muffles the other night.
All I could do was stand surprised,
For you has just smiled, gleefully recalling your day,
You say you flow like water and fit like a glove,
But when the moon comes up, what haunts you my love?
Yours poetically,
v.s
Walking the local area coastline,
Cup of coffee in the local Café
Sitting, observing people passing
Checking on dress sense today,
Shoes, where did they purchase them?
Spotted a homeless person
Shabbily dressed and looking unkempt
He appeared increasingly in the landscape
Popping up in unusual places, staring at others faces.
I realised the picnic area was his hideout
Sleeping bags, plastic bags neatly stacked
He lay asleep on the grass.
Voices woke him from his slumber
Gave a glance, no words spoken.
He walked the village streets, locals avoiding him,
Winter set in, he lived in the cold of the picnic areas,
Spoke of his life when sitting in a comfortable home
The conversation always finished with such a shame.
One cold winters evening near Village shop
Aware of a homeless person sitting near
Huddled, sheltering from the cold wind on a street corner.
Decided to approach him, enough of wondering
Checked on what money I could share.
When approaching he stood as if frightened,
Standing close enough to touch each other
Weariness on his face, easily seen.
Eyes met in silence trying to understand what it was I wanted,
Asked quite bluntly, what and why,
No answers forthcoming just a shake of his head
His eyes showed such torment, emotions coming to the surface,
Never or ever again, seen such pain behind a gaze.
Reached to place money in a tattered trouser pocket
We shook hands, his hand having problems releasing from mine
His grip was quite strong as we exchanged this greeting
For an instant, a wry smile crossed his face.
Realised that he was a young person
His face showed his daily survival
He spoke a thank you, as goodbye was spoken,
Walked away with his eyes following.
The memories of meeting with this homeless soul
Went on and on and even visited dreams.
Not seen since this meeting
Moved on, looking for somewhere else safe to stay.
Positive thoughts of what he was doing
Imagining, what life was dealing him?
I reminisce -
My entering sixteen
Though looked fourteen
Full of perplexities of adolescence
More of vigor and less of sense
Thighs bulging out of my half-trouser-veins
Unsuccessful in hiding my protruding pains
Voice creaking, face pimple-filling
Shyness, blush, and anger aggravating
Avoiding my dear and near ones
And even the company of my parents
Reacting to the elders and earning their swearing
Yet needing someone loving and caring
Getting attracted to you, a girl of my age,
Undergoing the same feelings in a feminine-rage
And smiling at you again, again and again
Fearing what’d be your response, even then
Though you seemed well reciprocating
Yet stern-looking as though staring
Never daring to come closer to you
Waiting… waiting… waiting… to see you
At last fear-filled, confusion-lit
Pressing into your palm a blunt paper-bit
My first ever love-letter, with pleasant pain
Running away gazing at you again and again
Later, hearing your cousin finding it in your skirt
Putting it into your cruel-looking dad’s shirt
Getting spiritually half-dead
Hiding for many days in my bed
Later when I met you again
Finding you as though filled with pain
When you left home to a boarding-school
When I found myself in an all-boys school
Often my asking your younger sister
Whenever I could ever find her:
‘How is she?
Remembering me?’
Then -
You as you
And
I as I
Parting ways, and finding each other -
Never…
I miss you.
Modern man has less dexterity.
I think I know one reason why,
The replacement of the button
With the zippered trouser fly.
It took some finger manipulation
To keep each button firmly seated
Just a brief tug of the zipper and
The manoeuvre’s now completed.
No exercise of the fingers or
Checks on leaving the loo
Just to ensure that no button
Was fastened slightly askew.
Modern man can have confidence
Nothing untoward is left on show
Just one pull of the fastener and
He’s concealed and ready to go.
But, has he paid a prince by not
Having to stop and linger
To correctly place each button
And thus exercise each finger.
It didn’t burn many calories
Maybe not even a couple
But it required coordination
And it kept the fingers supple.
A lost trouser button could
Very easily be sewn back on
A broken zipper means use of
Garment at least temporarily gone.
Yes, there was a lot to be said
For the buttoned trouser fly.
I suppose I’m just a relic
From times long gone by
When the world was less hasty
Without this modern daily stress
And a man had the time just
To pause and check his dress.
A skirt can sway like summer breeze
Its fabric, soft as petals from trees
A dancer's dream, a poet's muse
A canvas of colors, a vision to choose
The way it hugs the hips, so light
A symbol of grace, a picture of might
It twirls and spins, a whirlwind of art
A garment of beauty, a work of heart
But a trouser is a different story
A symbol of strength, a sign of glory
It wraps around the legs, so firm
A garment of power, a fabric of firm
It's a garment of practicality
A choice of the bold, a sign of reality
It's a shield of protection, a guard of might
A garment of strength, a fabric of fight
A skirt can be a symbol of femininity
A garment of elegance, a sign of divinity
It flows and drapes, a work of art
A symbol of love, a fabric of heart
But a trouser is a symbol of masculinity
A garment of power, a sign of ferocity
It covers and protects, a shield of steel
A symbol of courage, a fabric of zeal
Both garments are a metaphor of life
A choice to make, a path to strive
To wear a skirt is to embrace grace
To wear a trouser is to find your place
So choose your garment with care
For it reflects the person you are
A skirt or trouser, the choice is yours
A symbol of your journey, a fabric of your choice