Short Baggy Poems

Agnes had skin old and saggy
Her eyes were dark and baggy
She pierced two safety pins
Each side of her chin
Which gave a lift to poor Aggie...

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A boob who was rather naggy
Said to its mate we're too saggy
Without more support
I'm afraid dear cohort
We're nuts in pants that look baggy...

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A voluptuous young lady from Peel
Her huge breasts she would try to conceal
So she wore baggy tops
When she went to the shops
But folks stared and asked are they real?...

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getting old
Feeling cold
Croaky voice
Have no choice
Wrinkled skin
Getting thin
Thin and scraggy
Eyes baggy
Mouth droopy
Going loopy
Legs all swollen
Youth has gone
Stolen...

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Indian food has recently caught my fancy
Delicious and it also maintains my chic chassis
May sound like bragging
Do I hear you gagging
Can't stand it myself, my bod's always been baggy...

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sagging baggy pants
below buttocks reveal an 
insecure person

so pull them up, hide
your offensive parts, find your
purpose for living

become more secure
by using your talents to
make a better world...

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for a woman
who always wears
baggy clothes to cover
her curvaceous
body
a teddy, bra and thong
peach to highlight
your auburn hair
green eyes and
fair skin as
you take
them off
for me...

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Terrible Towards Traitor

Always would be terrible towards a traitor;
Realizing there is someone who was greater;
Eyes baggy and sagging,
And behind not lagging;
Ended up being called Great Emancipator.

Jim Horn...

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bent frames
      smudgy lenses
      precariously
      resting on
      an aristocratic
      nose
      unkempt!
      the 
      baggy
      sweatered 
      professor
      exudes
      leather chair
      comfort...

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I have never liked your phoney guise as a clown
Whose silly painted smile should be turned upside down
I'd like to put red ants
Down your baggy ass pants
And watch you dance until the seat of 'em runs brown...

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Poor fat old Santa Claus
Had smelly grey dirty drawers
His wife boiled them in the wash
They’re baggy now, so his balls don’t squash

12~04~14
Contest: Christmas Clerihew
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
~awarded 2nd place...

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Baggy elbow
Whisking a wow
Flapping & flopping
Constrained by conforming
With ambition

Baggy elbow
Blowing a bow
Swinging & swagging 
Hung from haggling
With normalcy

Baggy elbow
Trying a toe
Cracking & creaking
Tired from trusting
Itself...

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Skeleton in the closet
Hiding between her baggy clothes
Grappling in the shadows
For one who thinks she knows
What doesn’t haunt her feeds her
Hunger for darker truths
And deeper holes through which
She escapes when the door opens
And her secrets are exposed...

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See the toddler traipsing by
His diaper hanging low

See the cool cat in his baggy pants
How much lower can they go?

Toddler seems to have made a number two
Really needs a diaper change

For the young fella with the baggy pants
Appears that possibility may also be true?...

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Once, I saw a doggy, shaggy
His dress style was super swaggy
And when he walked
The people gawked
For off came his trousers baggy


27th February 2023

For "Put your best (one) limerick forward (be like Rico Leffanta)" contest

Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich...

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The image smiling back at me
When the mirror makes me to see
Is someone I don't recognize
Who is that with those baggy eyes?
How could I have changed into this dreadful biddy?

©by Regina Riddle
September 1, 2014
Contest: REFLECTIONS OF A FLORETTE - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: nette onclaud...

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Long nails
baggy clothes
Tangled hair
dry throat
Poor girl, sits alone
She's bullied
Picked on
Left alone
But stays strong
She wants to be loved
Why?
Why is she here?
Isn't suicide a priority?
Or is it a fear?
She's alive today,
but what about next year?
Is it rain, or  tear?
She let it go,
Now she's here......

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Listen to poem:

Twirling whirly whiffle spots
Until the golden neon rots.
Baggy, red, balloon-pop eyes
Do shun the evil orb outside.

Resting in the toilet stalls.
Burning up with liver boils.
Rushing to the bandit now,
I slot another silver cow.

Who will buy my pocket-dust?
No fanny-waving, juggling bust.
Reality boards a bus to go
Dreaming high casino....

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Clown's ware makeup, 
baggy clothes to
and a big red nose
they honk at you.
Clowns throw pies and water to, 
just hope they don't throw them at you.
Clowns are funny ha, ha, ha, 
but they have one little flaw, 
they think there tiny and there small, 
they cram twelve clown's inside one car.
You think I’m joking, go and see, 
their at the circus religiously....

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I pegged them out on my clothes line,
   Like puppets on a string.
   Those baggy pants fit for a clown,
   Such laughter they did bring.

   That claret shirt, high as a kite,
   And three sheets to the wind.
   They will dry out, to my delight,
   My wet suit it has sinned.


   George. Seal.   4/ 1/ 2015.
   No. 3 clothesline.
   Let me feel your lines....

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Death is laughging in her cry
 No time for tears to dry
 An underlying sense of counting down
 The blackend life
 Her baggy eye caught a glint of the knife
 Its death again
 He's always here
 Watchinng waiting hear the stare
 A half painted face so incomplete
 A stranger in the mirror for me to meet
 Another day has past
 My thoughts are forever here to last......

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Owned by all
Yet trusted to one
For the benefit of all

Why then so scraggy
Like a road side beggar
Has he failed to make you baggy?

Because he hated our interest
Isn’t our motherland the trustee
Our birthright the interest

The kids he keeps selfishly
Thinking we were all blind
To see the specie all around
You are breaching our trust
Do not make us distrust...

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This fashion is in, that one is out
    narrow waists with baggy knees
  Wide lapels and razor-thin ties
    Who knows what will be

  Slicked-back ducktails 
    top off muscle t-shirts
  hoping to attract
    coy smiles from a skirt

  My friend and I dress real dumb
    bowling shirts plugging Bazooka-Joe gum
  The girls see us, giggle, and flee
    Who knows what will be...

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Squile mushroom girl you fill an isle
and force my eyes to split.
You're bolar hair and baggy clothes
A package all made fit.

Albino hair and teasing teeth
you bare an impish feast.
My loins flood warm with dirty thoughts
you've sicked on man and beast.

With searing thoughts to fill my head
you blow my bloomers nummer.
A simple fact a girl like you's
a Droopy-Bottom Mummer....

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lost within this labyrinth of lunacy
skipping along in someone elses shoes
pondering pale patches on my baggy pants
tortured by times fallacy of noon and moon

I am

amazed with every wave that breeches shore
thrilled by the shimmering haze of summer sun
adrift upon the clouds that shape my dreams
bemused by the brilliance of still life


©12/22/2018

#2 Marathon Poetry Contest...

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