Singlet Poems | Examples

Dawal

Erasius de Piles and Cicero
neigh Horn Saddler
Cambrai League and Trophy Chart
 Wish me luck
dude has skills
don't fear a dreamer
it's a Champions will
"Dawel:Dawal"
i'm awake at last
red-cheek grinny
dirty singlet wearing
crotch lift

Paper foxes
Male figure
sexy Women
happy ass
smille grinning
assist me to proclaim
the ashes of the 
cedars and cherry tree's
to be base
among the acids
a crystal to be created
Intorica spoke
Saint Pierre and Miquelon
Cryopreservation
the Intravterine
She loves none here
she loves none here

Unseasonal

Unseasonal

Leaves shuffle on their stems
fall onto ones which fell before
not yet a storm of Autumn tints 
those will blaze in a month

these are an early shedding host
that leave before the cold appears
in months of heat and sweaty brows
what signal do they heed

still green among the fallen fruit
now turning into soft brown dirt
as fresh shoots spring into the light
rosebuds plump in April sun

no hint of cooler nights to come
our evenings set to dine outside
with singlet days of Summer skies
this pleasure now declines

too long, too wet, too hot we cry
as humans always must complain
the tropics stretching south to us
our discomfort metres rise

none can say we’ve time to burn
or urge us spin the wheel and wait
the dial is set for our demise
for life to build a kinder race.

Clarke Now Washes His Shirts

Clarke now washes his trousers and shirts
And wants wife to be washing her skirts.
Not a rule launderers quit the dirt
Release of cash to soap men could hurt...

Washing one's pants touches not one's worth,
A decreed king it won't change nor birth,
Cleaning foul singlet not without mirth,
At one's kingdom one shall, at last, berth...

The  truth in what you have heard a dearth,
Like the ones in tales told by a hearth;
It's deserved if into two I burst
And of my sad fate men note the worst.

Frivolity

She wore a singlet and a tutu,
Ballet pumps and slide in hair
And she practiced rigorously
With concentrated care;
But frankly her dancing skill 
Was rather one of dross,
Her Dying Swan resembling
More of a drunken Albatross.

Then she met a Bull Fighter
Standing in the Barnsley rain
Cursing under his breath
That ever he left Spain.
Now they thrill discerning
 Audiences every single night,
She in her ballet gear,
He in his Suit of Light.

With the big guitar playing
The mood is never dull
As they dance the Dying Swan
Being gored by the Bull,
And to rapturous applause
They restrict the encore
By repeating the performance
To just one time more.

Other projects are being planned
When they get time to rehearse;
Maybe dancing to the drum
Accompanied by spoken verse.
Oh it’s an exciting time
With no more Barnsley rain.
Operations have been moved
To a sunny Southern Spain.

The Life For Me

For far shires beyond the western red sun
  I’m leaving the Land of the Long White Cloud -
to journey across the far horizon
  where cockatoos in bloodwoods sing aloud.
Trading in my black singlet and swanndri 
  for a swag and a croc tooth akubra,
so hoo-roo Long Bay and gidday Bondi
  where blokes drink Bundy Rum, not Coruba!
Leaving a world where reality bites
  for the Dreamtime People’s great southern land -
outback bushies and cork hat urbanites 
  in the convict Land of the Long White Sand.
Now the Sunshine Coast is the life for me
in palisades and canals by the sea.


               Written: July 1997

Kwarapshen - Corruption

A Poem in Pidgin English

Me, ma na SARS
I sabi drop bars
My gun ready to blast
Any youth wey dey drive cars
If tattoos na your singlet
We go treat you like piglet
If you no gree cooperate
Omo, you go catch bullet.

Me ma na politician
If you check, I be magician
I dey "pight" my brand of "kwarapshen"
Play ball, I go give you admission.
My certificate na banza
My account balance na fire
If I like I go make yanga
Even next time I go still dey power.

Me ma na Naija
Our mumu don end here
Una plans go backfire
Na my generation go matter
Una vision dey our museum
And we ready to change our condition
Even if una kill small portion
We go still carry out our mission.

Lekki na the catalyst
We go use am minimize fatalities
We don learn all una tactics
And we have all the relevant statistics
Baba God na our confidence
Next election una go see our relevance
We dey ready- no more reluctance
2023 una go see proper sense.

No Friend To Haunting Whispers

Within this every now we know as life:
a singlet, without gravity of purpose, 
provides a modicum of lack.
An only ear we listen to that cannot hear us back.  
In that instant, sound will echo a fleeting distant cry,
a tremble slight that might at times come try,
press our thought, engage in whisper,
and speak to no one there: 
I too have heard so clear the pain 
a poet’s heart must bear;
to love and so embrace it all
as if thou were the air.

Aussie Outback Christmas

AUSSIE OUTBACK CHRISTMAS
Comin' 'ome in an aussie sleigh,
ol' tractor ute with a rusty tray,
with a big branch of Gum, it be
the Christmas tree .
hard to find 'em white ant free.

Nailed it to a webbed dusty wall,
usin' my boot as a hamma
watching all the spiders fall,
decorated with koala, snake an' goanna
.

Com' Christmas morn here in Whatabugga,
dis summa heat could cook a burra.
Da' ol' bath tub, empty with prezzies gorrrn,
taken outside to cook magpie 'n' corn,
while some have fun on the dusty lawn.

Some prezzies still on dah floor,
Beaut!, new hinges for the dunny door.
Mum is smilin' even more,
a rackit, for flies 'n mozzies galore,
near the size of a dinosaur.

Tis Christmas in dah' auzzie west,
with heat 'n' flies to enjoy the fest.
Singlet, shorts 'n' thongs,
our very best.
Be our guest,
and enjoy Christmas in the Auzzie west.

A Scholar Romance Ii

Males have always made it easy for me to veto
either by words or actions or both.
You started so altruistic and added a brainless flare,
I’ve never imagined one on goggles with such virility
with books and tie, making his swagger uniquely swanky.
This dissertation will prove interesting and worthy
as you plant in my isolated garden,
so many  Chamomiles and exotic plants
making me forget the number of times
my emotions have been subjected to an Ambulance.

Your shawama description
blew up a vehicle from my laughter
yet flows with sincerity, grace and caliber.
You, on sweaty tight singlet
and pelvic hugging boxers, on the other hand
presents like a delicious volauvent.
Your heart speaks innocently
in a thick romantic brogue.
I’ve enjoyed the words coming out of it
which are more than mere blandishments.
I’ll hold onto them and carry your actions
like a gold-plated Candelabra.
My heart is in great amity with yours
and its acceptance, totally of its own volition
despite my ‘Yes’ being a cataclysmic event.
I’ve long signed the blank cheque
already hoping for ante-natal sessions by your own doing.

Adult To Child

Today he resigned, he filled out his notice, 
Today’s the day he departs,
Today’s the day he stops life like an adult, 
And begins again, right from the start,

So he threw out his brief case, suede shoes and black suit, 
Hung his restraint on the door,
And put on some shorts, torn singlet and boots, 
And went on some crazy explore,

To burn some ants with a magnifying glass, 
Then kick around the mud and the dirt,
He also went to spray paint some walls, 
Getting paint all over his shirt.

Today’s the day he quit being adult, 
His new life has now just begun,
Authority and burden of old adult life, 
Replaced with fooling around, happy and fun.

Highway To Hell

HIGHWAY TO HELL
              By: A Josh!

She had waited on the bed for him,
To come and serve her the usual meal.
Three hours had gone without notice,
Waited still,knew the requirement; not a novice.
Then he came around;
A short boxer,paired singlet abound.
Already in the mood to pay the bills,
And leave with her sorrow in clothing's peace.
Then they're drown.
He's caressing the hole with his nails.
Moaning was her,in her desire burn.
Raising legs and hearts and inner tails.
    Sin had mated with christians;drown in spell.
   The only highway to hell.
   17:20:08:21:27

Concobility

When a politician tells you that he put
On a red boxers with white singlet inside
Ask him to wait till you look at it properly
before you could believe him so to remain insane.


If a man on a campaign rally tells you a tale
make sure you sieve the whole tale to generate 
the truth therein, whoever take a politician's
Word must have a blocked ear and blind eyes.


Is it not the politician who sees an elephant 
and called it a rat? he sees a snake and praise an
Earthworm with a bow and songs of laughter,
A politician's mouth kill souls in many ways.


When a politician tells you to wait here
Better find another route to your journey
He may follow money to his death hole
His mouth is as sharp as the kitchen knife!


No politician fight a fellow politician squarely 
They know where to settle after election
Don't sell your soul to them in the field
As they prostrates for a vote you're to cast.


A politician's tongue is full of campaign promises before election, he may decide to sell garri and plantain with you but he is not with you dear!
Your vote is what count for him, cunny fools!


(C) John Chizoba Vincent 
      Voice Of Vincent 2016

A Fight To the Death

A brownie slid slowly, no rustle, no noise, 
Slid slowly, through the front door.
Invisible to all, an imperceptible ghost, 
Slid slowly across the room floor.

The dog barked, ferocious, and snapped, 
At the nothing that was now in my sight.
I walked, obtuse, with a spade in my hand,
At the nothing, prepared for a fight.

The dog lowered, froze, no noise, not a thing,
Staring, ready, at the vintage farm bed.
And I stood poised to fire, erupt and explode, 
Staring, ready, to chop off its head.

I stood bare foot with a singlet on top, 
And I knew I was maybe too drunk.
I felt still, an odd calm, when it shot at my leg, 
And I severed its head from its trunk. 

A brownie slid slowly, no rustle, no noise, 
In my farm house, to meet its new fate.
That night was a lovely cooking experience, 
In my farm house, browned snake on a plate.

Huntsman Up My Shorts

Five in the morning
storm rumbles in distance
balmy, sweaty, thirsty
in the half light of dawn
I grab some shorts
from the work clothes draw
slip them on and a singlet
down some water
birds sing, crickets harmonize

When I fill another glass of water
I think something is odd
 with these shorts 
some big, hairy spider legs
protrude out from there
big huntsman up the left leg
goes back up to hide

I am awake now
I am sweating now

Thinking what best to do
I shake the leg a bit
feel the spider move around
my leg........

eventually it dropped
to the ground and disappeared
under the wardrobe
and I really am awake now.

How White Is Your Pant

How white is your pant that you boast?
Every pant wore within is dirty and smelling,
How white is your singlet that you shoulder high
As if you own the whole air that walks around?
Tell the children that died before their time
That nature cheated them before they came.



How white is your mouth that you smile always?
Close a little and allow others to smile a little,
How precious is your private area  that you laugh?
Laugh a little and allow others to space their breaths.
Every thunder has its sounding style and lightening;
Every teeth is supported by gums that fails.



Hold not yourself as righteous as the snow,
Battle with your conscience day and night;
For through it you cause many atrocities.
How white is your smile and laughter?
How white is your cry behind the bereaved ones?



I have seen men and, men with music in their
Throat sin not always like those with laugh in their lips.
Listen and watch the sun wrapping its body going home before the unholy darkness comes to visit.
Help the poor and the needy; no one is perfect on earth.

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