Long Undergarments Poems
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A new brassier I did need, to keep the cold off my chest
All was ok until me, the guard did arrest...
From the store as I was making my way slowly out
Alarm bells rang and then I heard a shout.
Well I thought it was ***** when he took me inside
Where the guard took my bags, I had nothing to hide
He uttered something strange not familiar to my ear
Then sent me away with my bags presumed clear
I left the store with an audience fully surrounding
Feeling small and embarrassed and alarm bells still pounding.
I decided to ignore the stares coming my way
He had already rummaged and sent me away.
Embarrassed and shivering I looked for my car
Remembering then, that I still wore no bra.
I realised then that my chest area was cold.
Because I still had no brassier for my bits to hold.
The store they had left the tags on the underwear
Sealed inside the boxes and that’s not really fair
The staff they had omitted to tell of their plan
Oh boy, I sometime wish that I was a man.
My poor ches-tal area, not small, I might add
Was suffering from the cold, one could see that quite bad
I had looks from shoppers all watching me
I wondered at first what it was they could see
As I passed through the door, past a man not so old
He said buy a top, because I was looking rather cold
How thoughtful I thought, for him to mention to me
Till I saw my nipples sticking out as far as can be.
My poor chest-al area so long suffering in the cold
I now have new undergarments for my bits to hold
They are wrapped up warm and snug as can be
When I’m cold they will remain hidden, so no one can see.
© 24/09/2012~GG~
Nurembered days
Numb
Dumb
The pain
insane
a breast to suckle
an ear to hear
walking dead
late but prayed
Gods fell asleep
Mortals played
tumors grow
Its the doctors show
Liver or die
Drink my dreams
or do I try
Lettuce and rabbits
seduction and undergarments
exposed in the rain
dancing in pain
rendezvous
cafes and empty tables
candles burnt
loves description like flames
fades away
easy to say
no one to sway
who the hell wants to stay
This world is red
This life is spoked and bloody
Emotions drowned in daily strife
Memories drift
like snow in the wind
Silent dreams
Erotic dancers
Colombian cafes
My head a daze
Long ago, when the piano was tuned
I was a player
I was formidable and great
now
I drink in the last call
fulk the life and I want the hell
do I cry in Belgium
Fabulous
I am not a nice guy
But the metro is here
so goodbye
Suicide tracks
and
Musical notes
chasing the hate of isis tears for fears
Butterflies trump ruby foo’s buffet
for tyrants rant
While fools become gluttons
I will be the Cricket World Cup Champion in 2024.
Though I know nothing, even of a simple score...
I'll do Sirsasana (yoga on the head pose).
At my collapse, I will touch the ground with my nose...
What if I wear my undergarments upside down?
Yeah, my torn touser might make the moralists frown...
My dealings with people may be like those of cats.
I don't know yet; they'd be scared of me like house rats...
Crying Competitions I will conduct with friends.
Less sadness there will be, but, surely, more nonsense...
'Fight for fun' will occupy a part of each day.
Friends will be free to fight with bray or bubble spray.
All Fools Day will adorn each morning like fresh dew.
though, as the day goes by, it will stay out of view.
Fun and frolic will be components of the year.
Each and every moment must be a bomb of cheer.
Alice falls in blue hole dizziness,
bedraggled in white-smocked dress,
bloomers, too-high
knee socks, medusa-spread
of dirty-blond hair. Her nastiness hovers around
the royal-red throne with its pink-flamingo-
legs distress, playing cards
floating in 52-card pickup,
white rose with a heart — indicative of not love,
but trouble to come. wide-eyed Alice,
her tea-water splash — wings
of a Summer-hot butterfly.
Hatter, his static-hair sticks
out of his evergreen hat —
upside-down leprechaun.
time, too, hangs like bats
...a child, a girl child, inclined
to be trouble. This Alice ruffles
Queen’s undergarments.
Teeny-tiny rabbit,
barely a tic-toc,
scurries under the floating bush.
time plays tricks.
thrice-appears —
third time, he’s very late, indeed.
The Cheshire’s visibles, gleaming white,
polished as if smiling Sunday shoes,
can’t-help-himself grinning
around that impetuous girl,
who was swallowed whole
by Wonderland.
Alice’s world will turn upside-
down, with the hookah lounge’s
increased smoke. Quite high—
creepy caterpillar caterwauls
at the idea of a human
wriggling around its world.
Blue hole dizziness, this world of dreams,
an escape from reality, a nightmare it seems.
There will be giant and teeny-tiny doors, and
potions to explore. She’s much too young.
This is out of character for a young lady. Out
of sight and mind...mindless fun and mayhem,
a child plays her luck. Alice has lost her way.
She grows down...down...down.
Her head above the clouds, likely to lose it.
5/28/2021
Contest: Blue Hole
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
*Loosely based on characters from Lewis Carrol’s
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
Outside at recess
How I love to play
On the merry-go-round
What a joyous day
Then some older boys
Come and start to push
Spinning it around
Getting it to go faster
I become afraid
Having trouble holding
On, afraid to jump, afraid to stay
Then more older boys
Add speed to the fun
Terrified with head spinning
I fall to the ground
Under the merry-go-round bam
The construction of the
Plaything wasn't a pretty
Sight from underneath
Long screws were hanging down
It shredded my dress
My undergarments too
Tore up my flesh
I was black and blue
Was it innocent
Just a childhood game
Or was it malicious
A sadistic game
(This is from my childhood. Years ago. Playground equipment was made different from the
modern hard molded plastic of today. It was a wooden floor that was fastened down with
screws.)
Time was ticking away as I stumbled in the rain,
My carriage was in a ravine, the coachman dead;
Oh the beautiful horses with their broken necks,
I followed a light until I was knocking on a door.
Sheets of rain poured down on me from up above,
Slowly the door opened as I stood dripping;
I fainted and I was lost in a sometime world.
Slipping into an inky, dark, fathomless void.
Blowin' free in a dreamy, lovely, drifting place,
As gentle hands removed my dress and petticoat;
Then I felt my corset and undergarments being taken,
I really should protest, after all I was a lady of 1680.
For days in delirium, I heard myself softly muttering,
The king will come, the king will come, the king;
I lay on a soft bed of furs before a blazing fireplace,
The forest green with leaf and stream in the wild.
The warrior Argus tended to me for many, many days,
He had found the carriage and buried the dead;
She is beautiful, he thought with growing sweet love,
And then one bright dawn I opened my eyes.
Looking down at me was the most handsome man,
And I was shamelessly aware of my nakedness;
I should be screaming was my first reaction in reality,
Then the King's Guard was breaking down the door.
And I loudly yelled, "throw down the swords!"
____________________
August 25, 2015
Poetry/Narrative/Argus- and the Lady
Copyright Protected, ID 15-703-650-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Album Tracks
sponsor, James Fraser
Ninth Place
Why sit with a frown is there a need?
Yes she whispered in my ear, I think I peed.
My knickers are wet, I dare not move at all
If I stand up, down they will surely fall
Your knickers are wet, ha I did scoff
But I made sure I did, no laugh or a cough
For under my seat I would then have to peer
As there may be a puddle just under here
Went shopping before we met for lunch
Hoped lollies would stay frozen, so I could crunch
Put it in my handbag, sat upon my lap
Decided to eat quickly, so no mishap.
But lunch took quite a while
We had a laugh and a smile.
The lollies got hot, and then they did melt
I felt a cold patch sneak under my belt.
I swept off the table cloth wrapped it round like a toga
To everyone watching I said ‘it’s a new move in yoga’
To the bathroom I ran and locked the door
I dropped my wet undergarments, onto the floor
Knickers now down, I could see the stain
Was orange not pee and that I still maintain
I sniffed at my undies and then I did think
They smell of oranges, as I rinsed in the sink
I hadn’t peed at all, twas not a mishap
My ice lollies had melted, wetting my lap
Next time you see an old dear with a wet patch on her frock
Remember it might be a lolly, so you better not mock
One day you know that old dear will be you
So to yourself and to others you must always be true
A wet patch you may see, but no lollies are there
So offer her some wipes, but don’t sit on her chair
© 2013
Collaboration between Seren Roberts and Mandy Tams