Short Taffeta Poems
Short Taffeta Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Taffeta by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Taffeta by length and keyword.
she is a graceful swan
dressed in taffeta with roses
and tiny rhinestones that glitter as she swoops
her legs are pointers
her arms are magical,
she is a swan
* * ° * *
In
Mother
Moon's armoire
hang star-gilded
gowns of indigo
silk, heady with
cedar and
sandal
wood
* * ° * *
A fellow from the south of South Africa
Waltzed around in a skirt made of taffeta
Some thought he was strange
With his long curly mane
A lump in his skirt proved him male to the maxima
A fellow from the south of South Africa
Waltzed around in a skirt made of taffeta
Some thought he was strange
With his long curly mane
A lump in his trunks proved him male to the maxima
A fellow from the south of South Africa
Waltzed around in a skirt made of taffeta
Some thought he was strange
With his long curly mane
A lump in his trunks proved him male to the maxima
© Jack Ellison 2015
Just
a bit
too formal,
pearl taffeta
or buttered chiffon;
I’m more into cotton,
something to belly laugh in;
Toes in the sea or a theme park;
Stained all over with a good time,
living in a tank top with rhinestone fringe.
Dance little lady dance all night
in your little pink dress, of taffeta and light
swirl little angel swirl like a girl
for the stars are a shining my little pearl
Dance little lady dance all night
in your little pink dress you look alright.
celebrate your faerie self
your light, lithe, lovely side
the one that you had almost forgotten about
the one that wears a taffeta rainbow tutu
and a shiny silver tiara with pink jewels
The faerie self who dances around on moonbeams nightly
celebrate her
Listen to poem:
Sitting here between sheets of glass I move freely
clothed by the gloaming of a beautiful morning
I am a nonreflective wind in motion this moment
washing over her with pink taffeta clouds watching
the scene below, it's as if this birth that will be
a yawning yore soon is the only art in her eyes,
that truly matters.
Some artists utilize watercolors
Others dabble in clay
Some quilt
Others know ribbon embroidery
Some artists add glitter and sequins
Pearls, feathers, taffeta and other fluff
I like artists who think outside the norm
This artist wears her art
It is wearable art, she tells me
And it is for sure
she is the ultimate artist
I am proud to know her
Adorned in silky taffeta she strides,
cool, crisp, and confident.
With delicate lacy trim she glides,
a snobby sophisticated countenance,
behind which a volatile temper hides.
Once quiet and sultry,
now chilling and unpredictable - she chides;
burning cold upon her breath
and breast where nature's wrath resides.
We've seen her dance before -
our tempestuous bride.
Cupcake queen made no apologies for her darlingness.
Her light lavender hair looked normal on her, I must confess.
Her multi-colored taffeta tutu would have made me look like a clown.
On her, it looked more right-side-up than upside-down.
Cupcake queen had whimsical ways that entertained us.
We played to her strengths, as she gave us no fuss.
Her costume was unique, I think she created it herself.
She looked like a doll who had jumped off a warm candy shelf.
I recall you, that suave cologne, your black tuxedo with red satin sash.
My taffeta, crimson ballgown that crinkled, we the outstanding duo.
At the San Francisco’s, suave Faimont Hotel’s
elelegant, primo, Valentine Bash.
Moments like these, scented with Guerlain mists, are my twinkling majie noir.
Bending me over the balcony with tender yet exciting, hot kisses.
A magical foggy San Francisco night,
If only, there were many, star-studded moe!
As death embraced my whole being
Shrouded in burgundy taffeta
Her arms forceful
Embraced me
So as we spooned
I could not turn to see her lace shrouded
Face
She whispered
In Victorian tongue
Just loud enough to menace
Yet no matter how intensely I listened
Not one word
Made
Sense
I tried to respond
Or scream
Or raise
But my living soul stood still and silent
We swooned
Noir skies
Still
Laid out
And wrestled silent screams
And finally she softened her hold
And allowed me to leave
Our dream