Shorts Poems | Examples

List of Member Poems

Premium Member Sports Shorts - NBA Championship


       Knicks ~ clicked
         Spurs ~ licked 

       Brunson ~ top gun
         Wemby ~ all done

Premium Member Why I wear Panty Hose

The reader of this title
probably thinks I'm on a bender
It's all about some comfort
I've not abandoned my male gender

For some years now leather belts
are causing pain around the hips 
Now I get a pair of panty hose
and cut it into strips

The way I live my life 
is far removed from orthodox
The strips hold up my shorts alone
many years since I adorned myself in jox

So men now take yourself into a lingerie boutique
get some panty hose to make a stretchy belt
Wrap it round your belly
so  much comfort never felt

Sometimes when wearing zipless tighter shorts 
it's difficult to lift the trouser leg when there's a need to pee
But elasticity of the panty hose means
 top of shorts are quickly lowered so now  willy's running free


Footnote: perhaps I am showing my age here talking about panty hose . For those unaware 
they are female attire, a form of stockings and jox or jocks maybe an Australian colloquial term for mens underwear

a poem within a poem

lol. get click baited.
there isn't no poem.
just me.
and you.
and your thoughts.
hmm...
I have an idea!
how about a game?
duck, duck, goose, how about that?
no? ok
just comment your favourite, food.
yeah, good enough game.
ok, get commenting.
I'm off.
lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
ok bye.
bible
slime block!


Premium Member who wears short shorts

who wears short shorts?
WE WEAR SHORT SHORTS!
four really pretty teen girls.
A happy singing commercial created in the eighties.

I was stunned by their enthusiastic joy and prettiness.
I cannot remember what they were selling.
Maybe panty hose?
But I still sing their jingle fifty years later.

Shamrock on the Shorts

a fairy tale of Camden Town

Clancy’s Gym, the same old sounds
a minute’s rest then two more rounds
I’ll jack this in (like Bobby Prewitt)
but where’s the one who made me do it?
He hasn’t come, he’s never here
by now he’s on his second beer
presiding in the Dublin Castle
surrounded by his navvy vassals
they’re calling me “the Tralee Tiger”
I coulda been … where’s my Rod Steiger?
the jolting jab, fast on his feet,
the bantamweight that no-one’s beat…
my bucket? Something-Saint-John’s-Wood
and scum from gumshields, spit and blood
I’ve learnt a word I like – “effete”
You don’t hear that on Albert Street
He knows I never wanted this. He
said he’d cure me called me cissy
he calls me Rocky. What a sham
why can’t I be the thing I am?
I want to dance like Nureyev
which might explain the fury of
the shellacking that this lad’s getting
Look at those losers busy betting
Sad old slobs with Patterson poses
ten-buck suits and flattened noses
come to think, though, who’s the fool
they’re not up here on this stool
back room Clancy’s Masculine Sports
blood on the gloves, shamrock on the shorts

Tandoori or Tangerine Tan shorts no5 final jive

Still hope we can cope

With the nope

Don’t give a damn plan

From that Tandoori tan

Obscene Tangerine dope

Jackanory Mandarin Man


That trope..like to be Pope

Go out on a limb..got the vim..scope 

To make him of the grim...dim..whim..mope

Just give Mr Grope enough Rope


Opined women..a frump 

If they mind.. some bump & grind

Half inching while pinching their rump


The darkness descends


Besotted with anything cosseted

Rotted or garrotted by design

But sign on the dotted line

Raise a 'Stein" of wine


Knaves..slaves.. saved

From the craze & blaze 

Of this moral maze & haze

Extinguished by depraved waves 

From distinguished graves


Denies his demise is nigh

Popularity sky high he lies


Bliss as the remiss abyss 

Of hiss and diss ends

Thanks to a sly bit of 

Wry Fab Four rapport


No not you say hello...but yes I say goodbye

Off with his head the French might have said

Cos we've read we'll get by instead 

With a little help from his (dead) friends


Tandoori or Tangerine Tan shorts no4


Cohorts of suits distort

Court the last resort

Damnation of immigration

Onslaught in cahoots cavort


Pander to propaganda slander

Escort darker fraught faces

From other races caught

To starker places.. shunted

Hunted like a sort of sport 


History debunked

“Before” skunked & kerplunked

Lore of Yore junked


Fossil fuel full sumps

Well More is More

Trees flump become clumps 

Of gnarly snarly stumps


Petrol pumps pour

Sheriffs thumps any grumps

Tariffs Gazumps…prices soar

Ready for the final encore?

Tandoori or Tangerine Tan shorts no3

Don't give a jot or 

A sod this lot

On your tod..just nod

Seedier greedier leaders

Stun..Shun the Needier

Not just down trodden

Sodden...run roughshod


Beseech each of those clowns..down 

In the dumps chumps who chose

Plumps for stealthy

Leeches who teaches 

Fools at our schools

Only the wealthy can stay healthy


No education for the nation

Uses...abuses..eschews..media issues..then sues

Argy bargy - sarky malarkey ensues

Bemuses readers…forsake news as fake

It's a Maga Saga ruse for f**ks sake


No immigration...deplore integration

To restore order…close the border

Hardcore race riot diet of denigration

Likes 60's generation segregation 

Damnation not salvation..just devastation

Tandoori or Tangerine Tan shorts no2

Satsuma Tumour

Sense of Humour?

That Groomer Rumour


Cometh the Hour

Cometh the TAN!


People Power Glower should Flower

Grassy brassy knolls

But proles at the polls

Sold their Souls


To joust like Faust

Ignore Marcel Proust

Cower before the Ivory Tower


Odd bod elite’s law 

Tweets of Sod and God

No Enlightening


Repeats the prism

Or algorithm beats
 
Every criticism schism 

“Ism”..a frightening..lightning rod


Pot..black..kettle knack

Debauched cheats pedal to the metal

Out of whack flak attack 

Unsettle our mettle

Plot to settle that score


Scorched and torched serfs

Any petal in fine fettle

& the earth's core

Tandoori or Tangerine Tan shorts no1

Tandoori or Tangerine Tan?

Mister rich lister Blister

Sinister Mandarin Minister


Sin..Spin & Chagrin Talisman

Jaundice scrotum prejudice totem

Prime time Pantomime

Podium pandemonium
 

Needs Imodium...clearly feeds Opprobrium 

As this git dearly did his bit 

No boom just bust

To ensure the sh*t really hit the fan

Just one more time!

A Drink Of Let Go

A Drink of Let Go

Hardy Levis shorts
Stuckup seesaw 
Let go of forgot
Now playing
To my mistakes Sounds of chord Shapes in time 
Echo at the end before
The meeting has begun   
I can't let go 
I say what is life
On any casual day
Will I miss the flowers and the.trees
There's a girl over there
we latch on instantaneously 
To each others soul
Maybe she can help Maybe setup my life
Maybe I can live again and always do whats right
But I am really living in someone else's dream
Iam seen praying to a human replicator
Praying not to be changed
Serving mischief
Marinated reefer
Wrapped up and traded for gunpowder
The money man
Final wish
Shark food

The Fiddling Fiddler

Shorts up his ****,
Not moving very fast,
Shorts are too mini,
You see too much skinny,
Hand down his pants,
As if there were ants,
The “fit” of his shorts,
Made our lunch aborts,
Fiddling fiddling all the time,
In his teeny tiny shorts the colour lime,
Slick and wet they are so tight,
Will he get out of them… 
He might (not).

Nine Shorts - Ilgop, Yeodeol, Ahop

Graduation
Limbs that quake with nerves
Soon stiffen.
An extended arm, poker straight,
Leads her across the stage
Slowly and gracefully
To the next, unwritten page of her life.
She wields her knowledge
As her writing tool
And begins to jot out the future.



Heartbreak
Love that no longer lingered
In that tired, battle-worn heart,
Was soon replaced by the heaviness
Of dark, wet cement,
Hardening and grounding her.
In that scarred heart,
Love could find new ways to bloom,
Chipping away at the cement
To form some beautiful sculpture.



Pandemic
How much longer?
Fervor is festering within the walls,
Confined in small space,
Gearing up to burst.
Let them out, let them breathe.
The days repeat an endless cycle,
The actions forgotten
In the amnesia of elongated sleep.
How much longer?

Nine Shorts - Net, Daseot, Yeoseot

Coming Out
Comfort and meaning can be found
In the draping of rainbow flags
And the joyous stupor of marching
Alongside understanding strangers.
Absolved of the sin of lying,
She now stands free.
A new kind of love blooms within her,
Big as a bright yellow sunflower
And purer than Alpine snow.



Anxiety
Breathe in, breathe out.
The crawling of the skin is real,
Repelled by the way
Prying eyes touch and poke and prod.
Even if nobody stares, everybody stares.
Breathe in, breathe in.
If she breathes out the skin will crawl again.
Breathe in, breathe in, breathe in,
And hold.



Depression
No difference now
Between her lifeless, shallow-breathing visage
And the stains on the walls
Left behind by negligence.
Tired eyes follow ticking time
As it slips right by her,
Through the crack in the window
And into the cacophony
Of urban joy beyond.

Nine Shorts - Hana, Dul, Set

Crabs
Small feet pounding the pebbled path,
Desperate to escape
From imminent danger.
Eight legs and two claws
Advance in their thousands
Upon their prey; the child.
Refuge is sought in an adult's arms,
High up and away from
The frightful crustacean march.


Roman
Crimson red and blinding gold
Balanced upon ber small head.
Blonde hair cascades from beneath
In trestles of tight curls.
She leads her troops around ancient streets,
With a smile as bright as the rays
Of the almighty Sol's coronet.
Her lips uttered words of old
That soon resigned to memory.



Hong Kong
The humidity of warm daytime
Gives way to icy harbor air of nighttime.
Man-made neon dances on the water's surface
While natural moonlight seems to target her,
Illuminates her.
Tsim Sha Tsui's streets are hectic,
But its back alleys provide shelter,
And shaved ice with its sweet, milky taste,
Melts on her tired tongue.

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