Nylons Poems | Examples

Footles of Bands

work in progress
Footle of Country Bands

S**t Kickers/slide guitar
cowboys 
Stetson 

John Denver/folk music
“Thank God”
fiddler


Footle Of Rock Bands

Guitar strings/stockings
steely 
nylons

Big hair/bands
hairspray
glamour 

Roadies/Hotel
seconds
trashed rooms

Thrash/Punk Rock
Bangers
Façade

Past Times 2

Five stones
                closing times
radiograms and
              seventy-eights
school caps
              sticklebacks
saturday flicks,pooh sticks

Charabancs
              steam trains
linoleum
              oil cloth
mangles
              fish paste
sandwich spread

Hot towel shaves
        cut-throat razor
shopping baskets
          paper bags
braces,plimsoles
short,back
          and sides

Wizard beano
        and hotspur
lending libraries
picturegoer,
                road to
Bridget Bardot
            Marilyn Monroe

Dripping
          coal fires
antimacassars
nylons,suspenders
crumpets
          and toast

Brown and mild
        barrelled beer
conkers,school milk
blackboard rubbers
          and liftup desk lids
times-tabled
                school-kids

Draughts
        and allotments
rusty bikes
        roller skates
satchels and scrumping
pounds,shillings
            and pence

Saved In My Memorybank

Five stones closing times 
     radiograms & seventy-eights
 school caps      sticklebacks
 saturday flicks    pooh sticks
 Charabancs         steam trains
 linoleum oil cloth
 mangles      fish paste sandwich spread

 Hot towel shaves    cut-throat razor
 shopping baskets    paper bags 
braces, & plimsoles 
      short    back& sides

Wizard Beano & Hotspur 
lending libraries    &picturegoer
roadfilms Bridget Bardot & Marilyn Monroe

 Dripping     coal fires 
                antimacassars
 nylons suspenders 
crumpets &toast 
Brown &mild        barrelled beer
 conkers
school milk 

     blackboard rubbers & liftup desk lids
 times-tabled school-kids
Draughts & allotments
 rusty bikes     roller skates
 satchels &scrumping 
with mates
hence
no
pounds  shillings or        pence

Whos the Daddy

Those yanks in their tanks never got many thanks 
The locals moaned, ‘they’re over here’ *
We Brits had the ration, those yanks sought out passion 
With cigarettes, chocolate and beer

Girls couldn't rely on a whiff of a nylon
So legs got the tea or the gravy **
Eye liner pencil sufficed for the seam
The trick was to not make it wavy

But Typhoo and Bisto for fellas from ’Cisco
Was something quite hard to explain
Those girls would do lock ins with painted on stockings
All thankful that it didn't rain

Then with the war over and husbands at Dover
And Uncle Sam’s troops on their toes
Wives by the dozen had buns in the oven
And those baby’s dads were John Does

             ——

* Over paid, over sexed and over here - a reference to American GIs
who came, seemingly, laden with otherwise rationed goodies.

** In the absence of nylons/stockings, women would ‘stain’ their legs
with tea and draw on the seam. According to Mr Google, some even
used gravy. Neither were waterproof and rain (in Britain?) was to be
avoided at all costs.

Fishing By Moonlight

Fishing by moonlight
Using nylons for line
Two inch mews that slip and slide
Slide out of shoes and into night
A gentle breeze whispers here
The air is clean the sky is clear
Take the bait a naked ear
Holding hands like hearts so dear
Blanket seems like a bed
Intimate touches sweetly lighten my head
Shooting stars that seem to be led
And a little fish that soon will be fed
Swimming like the guard of life
With a blessing from Father Time
To find a place to go inside
Where our baby grows with your eyes.

A Parting Shot

A parting shot

	  Baristas bang to level the grounds
	  Constant caffeinated sounds
	  Murmured speak of 'where to next'?
	  Lonely figures sit and text
	  Gluten-free on plates piled high
	  Condensing people passing by
	  Foreign tongues that click and slur
	  Counterpoint a song from Blur
	  Buy 'to go' to cut the cost
	  By patronage the past has lost
	  Dusty corners, crumbs they've missed
	  Pierced lip and tattooed wrist
	  How strange our habits, then and now
	  That beg the questions when? and how?
	  Suspended nylons now replaced
	  By skin-tight leggings trimmed and laced
	  Time has changed the way we think
	  Of what we eat and what we drink
	  Like poetry that used to rhyme
	  Now lost in Jabberwocky slime.

Pawpaw Adage of Life

PAW PAW ADAGE OF LIFE.

I know this fruit
I know its old nursery rhyme
I love its taste so sweet
The softness and sweetness align

But where thou grow makes me wonder
In bola thou stand amidst dirt
Cheered by smells and empty nylons 
There you stand so tall and with ripe fruits

Thou sweetness is like Cummings
Your surrender on the mouth like a soft romance
Your taste on the lips sweet like a lovely kiss

Your watery body make my mouth wet
While my tongue leak up your juice 
As it gives a slippery passage 
For your easy sliding into my waiting stomach.

This I know I for sure 
A star can shine in the dark sky
When nature unlucks its features 
From nowhere a man shines.

What the Fish Nets Caught

she doesn't
wattle she
doesn't walk

like a pair 
of nylons 
she runs 

but i
a belly
bloated
blowfish
don't dare
even to try
to even think
or contemplate
chasing her in a
marathon and
so s l o w l y
lag behind
my pace
maker
and

my
mile
marker

only at
five
and

a 

half
inches
that's it

watches her
amazing
feat

Forgotten Name

Her name slipped away
Her shadow disappeared
An empty frame on the wall
That use to hold her face

No perfume smells or
Smells of dinner all gone
No nylons hanging to dry
No more, do I look to fat in this

Kisses missed
Opportunities for forgiveness
Gone
Memories faded away

As if we had never met at all
All have disappeared
All stored and lock away
I have lost the key to our love

The Eccentric

He was known as an eccentric; 
Saving all of those bolts in a bucket 
and for what?
No one really knew, except himself.

He kept numerous old jugs and cartons 
around the house, 
as if they were valued treasures.
Old string and ropes that he’d saved, 
were tied in numerous knots; 
each knot, the same distance apart.

There were shelves in his garage,
sporting old prescription containers,
 full of small nails and tacks.
Old cardboard from laundered shirts,
and gardening magazines, stacked high;
reeking of must and mildew.

No one really understood why he saved everything.
His yard, full of buckets, sticks and…
old nylon hose, and torn pieces of worn shirts,
hung from the rafters in his garden shed.

See, he was a crack’in gardener;
his tomatoes were staked; 
tied to the sticks with the old rags and nylons.
 The buckets, he carried to the neighbors, 
filled with luscious produce
and everyone in the neighborhood,
savored, the fruits of his labor, 
for years on end.

Those Were the Days

Five stones     
                 closing times
radiograms and
               seventy-eights
school caps
               sticklebacks
saturday flicks,pooh sticks

Charabancs
               steam trains
linoleum
               oil cloth
mangles
               fish paste
sandwich spread

Hot towel shaves
        cut-throat razor
shopping baskets
          paper bags
braces,plimsoles
short,back
           and sides

Wizard beano
         and hotspur
lending libraries
picturegoer,
                road to
Bridget Bardot
            Marilyn Monroe

Dripping 
           coal fires
antimacassars
nylons,suspenders
crumpets 
           and toast

Brown and mild
        barrelled beer
conkers,school milk
blackboard rubbers
          and liftup desk lids
times-tabled 
                school-kids

Draughts
        and allotments
rusty bikes
         roller skates
satchels and scrumping
pounds,shillings
             and pence

Dancing On the Fourth of July

All that hair 
trapped in a braid  
silver to the waist
Opal this morning
nude in the mirror
brings the braid up
between her breasts
and around her neck,
a python of her creation

that she promised Elmer
she would cut off
for a pixie hairdo
like Audrey Hepburn 
if he would take her
on the Fourth of July   
to the Senior Dance,
something Wilbur
would always do 

if she wore high heels
and that red dress
and those black 
nylons he found
with the seams
like the ones she wore 
the day he came home
all crew cut and cowlicks 
from Korea. 

Donal Mahoney

If Chronic Pain Were Olympic Sport

'If chronic pain were Olympic sport'

Morning shocks me with a jolt
Night time flies like Usain Bolt
If dream of sleep were 'lympic pride
My pain within I'd win not hide
If feeling tired, was winning gold 
My chronic illness medal hold
We would be there chasing Mo
If energy won at being low

If 'pushing through' meant top of game 
And trembling hands meant pride and fame 
If migraine vice meant all things nice 
And neck strain drain meant King of pain
If winning crunch was base of spine
Or BP drop that renders blind
We would excel Olympic pride
Where no one you love would dream you 'lied'
They'd even know it's genes so fate
They'd say 'I believe' not 'you exaggerate'

If feeling drained was strong like Phelps
Where tiredness reigns and brain fog helps 
POTS fatigue, compression nylons
Clunky shoulders easy bronze
If Olympian meant broken bowel
We'd feel their pain, lay on beach towel 
For every day we feel that burn 
From joints all round and stomach churn
If chronic pain were Olympic pride
We'd win hands down, in bed would hide

Eternity

Here we are all trapped in single file
stuck in line at the grocery aisle
behind a lady in tattered nylons
perpetually searching for coupons.

Now she is causing us even more stress
arguing the price should be ten cents less
though that amount should be no cause of grief
she treats the cashier like some kind of thief.

Hopes of finding other lines are broken
as no other registers are open
my temperament begins to roil
as my groceries begin to spoil.

At last she gives up and gets out her purse
but then the problem becomes even worse
bypassing her cash to get out a card
inputting her pin code seems much too hard.

Just before we move to angry action
she finally completes her transaction
but then our new hopes are once again snagged
when she nags about how her food is bagged.

Her departure now ends our ordeal
the next guy puts his food through with zeal.
Oh, come on now, what the heck!
he is paying with a cheque!

Inappropriate Attire

It is the evening I have waited for, 
stiletto heels three inches high adorned my feet,
real nylons hung from garters beneath a
skin tight, leather skirt of maraschino cherry-red.
A blouse of white silk, with a cascade of ruffles,
played peek-a-boo with my décolletage.
Outdoors, the rain pounded the asphalt  
making the reality of his arrival even more bizarre.
A Harley barrels into the driveway.
Apparently, he thinks 
he is Marlon Brando
and I am Stella?

I stand on the porch, a black umbrella
covering my new do, and watch as he
saunters through the puddles on the concrete walk.
The color of the umbrella my only 
non-incongruent element in the frame, the scene made.
His smile was like a box of Chiclet's
on his clean shaven face.
He kisses me.

I lick the raindrop
from the tip of his Roman nose
and take hold of his Russian fingers.
He tosses my umbrella on the porch,
throws his black leather jacket over my shoulders,
lifts me off my feet, and carries me to the bike.

The sun breaks through the clouds and the rain stops,
just in time for the neighbors to glare at the sight of my legs 
reflecting on the bikes chrome work.
Shake their respective heads
and donate a few wolf whistles.

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