Short Brassy Poems
Short Brassy Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Brassy by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Brassy by length and keyword.
Ornery orange,
Range of shades,
Antagonistic character,
Naughty,
Greedy and garish,
Ever so bright, flashy and in some cases brassy.
Some girls are brassy, some are flashy
Some girls are even a wee bit trashy
They give you a tweak
A tug on your cheek
Prefer girls that show some ass-ies
Some girls are brassy, some girls are flashy
Some girls are even a wee bit trashy
They give you a tweak
A tug on your cheek
Really prefer girls that show a bit of their ass-ies
Some girls are brassy, some girls are flashy
Some girls are even a wee bit trashy
They give you a tweak
A tug on your cheek
Really prefer girls that show a bit of their ass-ies
They’re loud and proud, brassy and flashy
Wigs that make Dolly Parton proud
Glitzy dresses that sparkle
Pounds of heavy make up
They’re buxom beauties
Feathered boas
Flamboyant
Drag queen
Men
Lucy was a ladybug with a polka-dot chassie,
whose manners were totally sassy;
she’d sip morning dew
like a grand dame would do,
and declare every leaf most tres chic, brassy.
Jazzy brassy voice
I scream in blue tones
I dance to fill the void
Buttons like backbones
I’m the woman you love
Can’t get me off your mind
I sing with your every touch
Improv I drink like wine
Some girls are brassy, some girls are flashy
Some girls are even a wee bit trashy
They give you a tweak
A tug on your cheek
Actually prefer girls that show a bit of their ass-y
© Jack Ellison 2015
Beautiful reds and yellows
Staggering flights of leaves
The whistling dry cold draught
Rattles song...brassy sways.
Naked trees
Leafy grounds...
Fallow time for trees
Falls fruits and fruits
At the autumn's breath.
don't spit on my tail please
said rat with a summer cold
never saw children like these
brassy and so bold.
don't spit on my tail please
said oldster rat, scurrying away
never saw people like these,
never having even one good day.
TRUMPETER
Sandpaper comments,
Intolerant, indignant,
White House jihadist.
UN denier,
Mega-tweeter, Putin’s pal,
Friend of common man?
Hair like swan feathers,
Lips pursed in a brassy kiss,
No friend of Dizzy.
What Reveille wakes
Billionaire soldiers of change.
Your new president.
Do you want hamburger in your eye?
Or would you rather dig and die?
I stared at the three-year-old.
He was brassy, eager, bright and bold.
My only choices? I expertly guessed.
He nodded his head, not at all dressed.
Nothing like a naked three who has come to play.
To remind you that it’ll be a great day.
The spiders know before we do,
Cozy
Expanding black clouds
On the edge of a meal
In the corner of my bedroom
The last of the flies circulate
Wall, wall, window, wall
It is just a matter of time
Meanwhile the girls and I
Find benches in the last scrap of brassy sunlight
Furiously rub the upright hairs from our arms
And fight the gails
Blowing our skirts like sails.
I put hot pink pajamas on my cat Scat.
She twists her tail, for she knows where she’s at
A sassy, brassy, classy, ritzy, ditzy, diamond cat.
worth all the trouble, said my cousin Pat.
For she is smug and self-assured, a joyful cat.
I hear her coming now, with her pitter pat.
Dressed in her fancy pajamas, my cat, Scat.
Uh-oh, I think what she is carrying is a live rat!
Grasp the anguish, of the dank do-
Gooder, bursting across
The local track. Kids bored silly
Outside the school, sneer as
She slips past. The brassy broad clings
In the wind to her hat,
As shoulder straps preclude her sack
From sinking, she is an-
chored by her leather bag, the last
Treasure she can hold fast.
Since the rain washed away the mirth
Of the carnival day.
Form:
She lay upon the chill drying sand
disheveled
lay the brassy gold of her hair
adorned with seaweed
upon her blue gray cheeks
small pink crabs crawl
the ruched red skirt she wore washed
back and forth waist high showing white cotton
chill winds blew drying sand across her open blouse
drying like bits of stardust on her lashes
sand sleepers nest in her open eyes.
I don’t have a favourite,
I love each and every one
Whether happy or sad
Cheerful or glum
I love Prayer Claire
And Lazy Daisy
Gaudy Maudie
And Crazy Maisy
I love Blue Sue
And Classy Darcy
Timid Ingrid
And Brassy Marcie
I love Shy Di
And Sullen Ellen
Beige Paige
And Barren Karen
I love Chipper Pippa
And Hairy Mary
All of them from homely
To a little bit scary
Form:
WEAK SECRETS
a secret?
how inferior
can one get
secrets stamped
all over you… true
potatoes that hiss
I stand alone
clutching
my bottle of white
happiness
papyrus edged feeling
world attacks brassy
biased big showing
us the way home
so… sweet your
blood mouthfuls
in gulps of foam
I
would
let you
steal the
bottom
of my
eyes
©Kim van Breda—18 November 2015
She lay upon the sand, lowtide-cold, salted-dry, dissheveled.
Tomorrow would have been her twenty first birthday,
unadorned, except for the seaweed in her brassy blonde hair.
Tip-toeing across her blue-gray cheek, a pink crab foraged,
unhindered, it dined on the whites of her eyes.
Only the sea and sand cradled her now.
First Published in Of Sun and Sand 2013
part Of a hurricane Press
Oh, drive me please where I can gaze
Upon the fields of sheep a’graze
Or taking time to dream and laze
On blankets green and grassy.
So far from New York’s jam-packed roads
With cars and semis schlepping loads,
Ignoring all the traffic codes,
The drivers bold and brassy.
A bold reminder are the sheep
That every baa instead of beep
Allows your soul the chance to keep
Its outlook soft and sassy.
The brassy sassy cocktail napkin winked at Jim.
He looked around quickly, wondering who saw.
The other patrons at the bar did not seem to notice.
Have another drink! She said. I’ll go home with you.
He had two more before stuffing her into his pocket.
She had been giving him sexy promises all night long.
“Do you want an extra napkin?” the bartender asked Jim.
He could feel his face getting hot.
Shook his head “no” and ran out of there.
Now they could be alone.