Short Fishnet Poems

crimson stilettos
mini skirt, fishnet stockings
 fantasy attire...

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if legs or long
theyer turn on
love to look
make my mind cooke
watch them locking
and walk and talking
in those
FISHNET STOCKING...

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Out of my mind, back in a few minutes
Adjusting my parameters, can't find 'em in a thicket
Happens now and then
Probably out feeding the hens
My name is Gertrude and my stockings are fishnet...

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Fishnet curves delight
                                                  Delectable  swells 
                                                    Oh so Beautiful 
                                                            Ahh...

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Fishnet 
stalking
so many fish
just jump right in
then find themselves
out of their element
trapped
and suffocating

Oh
to grow a pair

I know it's hard to walk away
when you haven't any legs
evolution can be so slow...

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As the party dies down
and the beer has been drunk
we sit together on the couch and talk.
Her lips move
but her eyes speak.
I lose myself in their conversation.
Her fishnet covered leg finds me.
She doesn't move it and I'm glad.
"Why is the beer gone?"...

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When I was young 
I could cut three holes 
to wear a black garbage bag 
as a mini-skirt over
torn fishnet pantyhose, 
with fishhooks in my ears, 
and I was totally-totally fashionable. 

I do it now 
and invariably someone asks 
if I'm okay 
and do I need help....

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Where stockings of fishnet hung by the tree,
Old Santa grew giddy, blushing with glee,
For the madam explained
"If your drive's not too waned,
The one-you-pick's owner won't charge the fee."

November 17, 2022
A Fun Holiday Limerick Poetry Contest,
Tania Kitchin, sponsor...

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my black kitty near
the tackle box and fishnet
quick curious paws

storm and computer
screen aglow with my poetry
saved from  power surge

clock on the wall ticks
my flytrap needs some watering
abandoned cobweb

picture of children
calendar needs to be changed
my womb is empty...

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sex and hairspray,
its what her image screams.
her lips smeared with 99 cent gloss.
vodka and whisky lingering on hot breath.
fishnet stockings,
a hole in one knee.
eyeliner smudged by the humid air.
trojans packed away in her leather purse.
"well," she purs in a drunken slur.
"what do you think?"...

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Morbid angel
With that crooked gothic grin
Smearing licorice lipstick
On the licentious lips of sin
Morbid angel
Whimpering salacious sighs
Snagging the souls of men
In your fishnet thighs
Morbid angel
In sable studded noir
Matching spiked collars
With your high heel scars
Morbid angel
Black lace over ashen skin 
You’re late for school again
Much to your parent’s chagrin...

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Raised up gooseflesh dipped in metal,
a shiver runs right down my spine;
Every emotion they enshrine,
somehow the scream helps me settle;
Please hit that double bass pedal,
I’ll throw you a devil horn sign;
Raised up gooseflesh;
They view me as the jezebel,
a black fishnet flavored outline;
With a head bang everything’s fine,
healing factor with no equal;
Raised up gooseflesh....

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Don't worry, cookie. 
I won't eat you. 

Unless you ask, but
I doubt you will. 

With Sanguine intentions, 
We toss and tumble, 
Laughing with grass
Stained khaki's. 

This is bliss. 
Across the 
Rolling hills of 
Our private desires. 

Your key barely 
Fits anymore, but
That's okay because
I can't be your 
Door anymore. 

Remember? I stand
On the 
Corner. 

With fishnet
Stocking, a cigarette
And a mini-skirt. 

You dare to 
Cross me so 
I've become what
You've wanted.

Now burn, 
Lover....

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