Short Lapel Poems

today's red poppy
from her lapel to his tomb
soldier less unknown


posted on August 18, 2018...

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Limericks by definition are supposed to be funny
They can also be serious when your nose is runny
Annoying as hell
All over your lapel
Hard to be serious, boogers are quite unbecoming...

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Rendezvous
along the Left Bank
near to the stroke of midnight.
I will be the one wearing a rose
in my jacket’s left lapel.
I’ll be waiting for
mon amour.


Septet syllable count is 3,5,7,9,7,5,3, unrhymed...

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Ring from a Cracker Jack box,
Neck chain made of twine,
Lapel pin of cardboard and paste,
See, my wealth I don't waste

So you threw it out, by mistake,
I'd hardly question why,
Easy enough to reproduce,
Cheap enough to buy....

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You are pure, holy,
Then the enchanted wind playful,
Lapel
You are astonished mind, you are trapped.
When love is aroused,
Happiness is like craving war,
Awakened heart became awakening,
Then free speech,
Golden vines set, you are adorned,
Love is wealth, you are pure, you are pure.
                                   ---sankalpmollick
...

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a slip of a girl

Her body is enticing 
Like a bud not yet a flower
Unashamedly in the shortest of short
Clinging to her plummy bum
Dance into my cafe.
Soon she will be a beautiful
Woman bursting with poise 
She will get much attention
Some unwanted
Then one day she will
Fall into a man
A flower in his lapel
She doesn’t know that this
Her adolescence  
Will be the best days of her life...

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Fancy dancy rooster with a cha cha cha
Strumped up like a prancy peacock, with a fah lah lah
Suit jacket was custom made by Dior himself, of course.
Daisies on the lapel are much too much said the horse.

The barnyard was messy with manure and stuff.
Fancy dancy rooster got splashed, stalked off in a huff.
Acts like a male peacock too, a peahen said.
The hens agreed that everything went straight to his head....

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Perfect Blush

I´m a man but want to be a rose 
not a tiny one for your lapel, but
a rose atop a thorny bush for all 
to see my magnificence.

And I will let a harvest mouse 
Make a bad amongst my soft petals
safe from cats, sleep in sunlight
wake up and fall asleep again.

Those who try to pick me will bleed
I´m not for a suitor to pick.
But I will when time is right 
With a bit of foliage, lie upon your pillow...

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The day the earth stood still, 
bells suspended in the tower, 
chimes froze in vacant space, 
nullified the hour. 
Her veil like spider web, 
stiff with Winter frost, 
hung upon the mannequin head, 
poignant and lost. 
His buttonhole carnation, 
a bullet wound lapel, 
blood red with cautious dying, 
in the dresser fell. 
And all the best laid plans 
unravel seam by seam, 
faint echoes in an empty church, 
never more to dream....

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Pink tulip please the merry nuthatch said.
On your lapel? Oh no. On my head.
It has such fragrance, fancy indeed.
I’d wear it proudly with my feathered tweed.

An acorn topper for me, oh please.
Shy cardinal said to the passing breeze.
Fashion me a cap of gold thread said Ted.
He loved a bit of royalty on his head.

A red hummingbird had naught to say.
Quickly turned tail and flew away.
Robin politely waited for her turn.
These bird hat preferences made my ears burn....

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