Nightgowns Poems | Examples

fashion is over the hill now

Soft t-shirts, warm flannels, easy to step into
Cozy fleece, light cotton, stretchy elastic waistbands
Comfy nightgowns, flowered pajamas, and a mumu
Retirement encourages a new way to dress
Comfort over class, coziness over chic
Fashion is over the hill now
I live in the country
The only ones who see me are my husband and my dogs

Grow Up!

She sleeps late. She 
Hates school. She 
Wears nightgowns. She 
Stares at the stars. She 
Laughs like She 
Loves life. She 
Flies home. She'll 
Grow up soon.

Of Lollipops

Of lollipops that taste sour, I dream of
Streetlights that flicker and fall, I
Dream of descending down a familiar
Path, I dream of glittering rubies;
I dream of whispering words washing
Over me, I dream of snowy cliffs
With people at the bottom, I dream
Of serpents with ill intent, I dream of
Darts and arrows rushing by, I
Dream of harvesting an unknown
Crop, I dream of echoing melodies;
I dream of lemon suns and blades of
Spinach grass, I dream of panic
That is pink and poisonous, I dream
Of letters dipped in kerosene, I dream of
A pantaloon with moth holes, I
Dream of rowing a boat with banana
Leaves, I dream of skipping down the lane;
I dream of leg cramps that prevent
Moving forward, I dream of fluorescent
Pools of chlorine and nicotine, I dream
Of pennies in the cushions, I dream of
Crochet blankets to keep us warm, I
Dream of betting it all at a shady
Casino, I dream of floral nightgowns;
I dream of soaring on the wings of
A phoenix, I dream of library shelves
With the helpful ladders, I dream

Night's Abandon

Heavy lidded
Quiet and still, blurring
Visions with inklings
Of slumber, laboring
To breathe dreams
Through the embrace
Of comforting sheets
In colors of soft light
Lavender and pink
Blushing like roses, gentle
Graceful as the morning
Whispering fanciful
Fantasies, wishes, reveries
Blended on the moments
Dozing like the memories
White lace nightgowns
Intimate as poetry
Brought to life on hearts
Who listen to the glow
Of swift, still light
Reviving the feelings
Laughing silently
Through promises
Of dense truths, honesty
Growing wise inside
The heart who believes
This sweet serenity
Only comes with the closing
Of the eyes, the night
When everything rests
Soundless as the snowflake
Caressing the naked branches
Light as the wind
Sleep frees the spirit
To know the night’s abandon



5/11/22

Another Year Passes By

Another Year Passes By
I look askance as the days pass by
even as they slip into nightgowns
and then it's the chirp chirp, caw caw
up and on to daily chores
displays on laptop
glued to the screen
see-saw with indexes
outcomes writ large on the face
and the nagging back pain
adding to the queue
ailments on the prowl
in propitious frames
yoga and pranayama
apart from vaccines
to the rescue
the swarming germs
on the radar, family members
soldiers in trenches and bunkers
money trails or terror attacks
occupy spaces in brain cells
can't just throw out the pictures
ferry them to bed
fall asleep with nightmares
that leave a pounding pulse
as a wrist-band records the reams.

A Cockcrow In Lace

the sunspots ensconced
behind howdy-do curtains
a cockcrow in lace

white watering can french blue
white sprouts of ivy deep green
unhackneyed eggs bright brown
the pale yellow sun flickers snow

and no one wears silk nightgowns
as knees fall, and wrinkles like weeds
are read on the backside of palms
that hurry the yolks and sizzle
the bacon, pour coffee into old cups

one for the geezer who grumps
but puckers up for his buttercup

Dressing For the Day

Pajamas or nightgowns, to me, are to keep
People cozy and comfortable while they’re asleep.
When sheltering-in or on weekends before
Getting dressed needn’t be all that much of a chore.

For even just changing to sweatpants and tees
Makes things seem so much better, by more than degrees. 
I feel much the same way about making the bed
Since not doing so can make despondency spread.

Though many may argue they do the same job
And both PJ’s and sweats make one look like a slob,
It’s psychology playing a sweet little trick
For pajamas in daylight make one appear sick.

In our homes, we’re in charge, so we wear what we choose
And if challenged to dress, we can flat-out refuse
But you’ll never find me in my sleeping attire
Past the morning, unless the apartment’s on fire!

She's a Short Spoken Woman

She’s a short-spoken woman he told all.
She’s short-legged? I asked, not at all tall?
Short-sighted? Another yelled from a wall.
She’s a shortstop? My uncle yelled from a stall.
She wears shortie nightgowns was the next call.
About to see a short temper on the man with the doll.

The Nightgowns

red, black, silk, satin
overwhelmed by memories 
never worn again

Living Memories

Your words,
    your gestures,
    your thoughts ...
    Your cold winter clothes,
    your summer nightgowns,
    your impressive figure ... all you,
    still lives in me ...
    Your memories live
    with me...
    You are in me
    as unfinished love,
    sleepy still love ... but in me
    not a lost love ...

Loovly House

Look at the loovly garden!
Narry a thorn there scratches.
Look at the loovly birds!
A peeping chick soon hatches.
Look at the loovly house!
Such loovly locks and latches.

A loovly family inside.
In nightgowns lacking patches!
Each retires to loovly beds.
As I light loovly matches!
Come morning see the loovly dead.
Reposed upon the ashes!






"Loovly House" was in FANTASY & TERROR 4, 1984.

Christmas Time

Nightgowns on at 9:01
Adrenal induced delerium
Santa’s journey has surly begun
To our beds, we were a scurrying

Closed eyes, at 9:05
But sleep would not come easy
We’d twist and turn, side to side
At least til 5 past 3

Then somewhere before, 3:44
Sleep would come, by chance
Til little sis would creep through the door
Ready to sneak a glance

Prowling the stairs, side by side
And past the grandfather clock
Which, by now, was reading 4:55
Five ticks before each tock 

Around the bin and into the den
Stood our sparkling 8 foot tree
Palms were there, to catch our chins
We’d gaze til 5:03

Up the stairs, new teddy bear
Little sister, close behind
Sound asleep, to prepare 
For the alarm at 6:59

Cameras

Cameras 


The root of my agony
Lies beyond this dollar store
To my foremothers and forefathers
Shackled by thieves
Stolen from the graces of Africa 

Their feet once light to
The drum's rhythmic complexity
Now bound in the west

My feet --- diseased
Prohibited to roam 

Even in this 
Tiny, dusty, dollar store
This Indian man’s curiosity unveils
Equating me to ---a crime
Or a suspect

My large plastic drugstore bag
Opens in obedience 
My purchased 18 pack of recycled toilet paper
And four nightgowns
For mama and grandma to share

The Indian man offers
To carry my school supplies 
And have them rung up

Cameras watch me
As do the Indian man 
In this closed 
Confined space

Next trip to the dollar store
I arrive empty-handed
My recycled cotton tote bag 
Folded flat
Into my navy blue Land's End
Water resistant jacket

Plastic man 
Paid with plastic money

At the exit I
cautiously bare and clutch my tote
To  secure
My heavy notebooks
The black plastic bags
Could have torn


By Marckincia Jean
Free verse
09/09/17

Decriminalisation

Flouncing flamenco style or doubling up for a pass a doublet is neither a right or a wrong in a semi colon in nightgowns. But trespassing on a land? Really? Who said? Hum. Huh. Disgusting. Go irrigate a system. It is irrelevant in an underpass. Really.  Are Astronaughts astronomically passing? Or is it the ordered preordained multitasking whisk that whirls around. Speaking in a descant voice is rather a pleasant octave. Ignoring ignorance irrationally is a quotation on a journey. But planting ones feet in a mystical view is an integral part of being a being and being a being is good and who would argue with a ninety thousand year old goldfish. Not wise. Not clever. Compunction compounds. I don't wanna wear clothes says I but I have to. Says who. Snails travel at high speeds un the morning. Hahahahahahahaha now eat. Hahahahaha boom bang. Imminent. Dangerous dogs demonic. No ha ha to that bunch of dying arranged posies. Xxxxx decriminalisation z

Incident

Anywhere. Evening rain.

Snakes cross the road,
             that is no longer an obvious place.
             It cracks like old toffee.

Lost souls in nightgowns and slippers
             foam behind wire.
             A dark tide bids,

then waits for the gallery of slight heads,
             a row of serious blue eyes,
             devoid of doubt.

A world of small signs.

• Short Nightgowns Poems
• Famous Nightgowns Poems
• Best Nightgowns Poems
• Read Nightgowns Poems
• Long Nightgowns Poems
• Nightgowns Quotes