Skirt Poems - Poems about Skirt

Willows In The Wind

We went for a walk, one windy day,
through the woods, and along the way,
she said to me, "If you please,
let's sit a while, it would make me smile, 
beneath these shady willow trees."
Yet, as just then, a gale-like gust blew by,
in apprehension, I asked her, "Why?"
And with a flirt, a lift of skirt,
the lady promptly

A Wilderness of Mirrors

What do I see,
you are looking back at me.
In my youth wearing a top of pink polka dots, 
with a skirt of green and orange fabric knots.
As I looked-I laughed until I cried,
every time the wilderness mirrors walk by.
These very old mirrors are such a thrill,
they love my fashion wear even if it is over

Lighted Island

My lighted island,
Hidden somewhere behind the red rocks,
Somewhere between the jingling of bangles
As I reach out to you.
My lighted island,
Lies behind the rusted walls of the blue city,
Among the trembling of my long earrings.
My lighted island,
Winks at me from the colors of the bustling market,
I find it in the strong scent of fish,
In the muffled

GITANAS

   they Rustle red skirts
 do magical predictions
 call mystical rays

A woman in a long skirt

A woman in a long skirt

Elisabeth Line, sitting on the train, in the station the door is opening
A young lady steps into the carriage and sits down next to me; hmm
And sits down on the seat next to me. Hmm, my hair is grey, I am old

She is the woman in a long skirt, yeah,

A Hula-Hula Skirt

Sarina bought a hula-hula skirt
Was so long it swept up the garden dirt 
When she mowed the lawn
Her hula was shorn 
Now poor Sarina is known as Flirt Girt.

Grey Skirt

Melancholy drops 
patiently wait for the Sun;
Grey skirt and a smile.

Be Careful of Skirt and Shirt

in wheel missing cog
Trump had been an under dog
brain like lump on log

never will want here
hope that he does disappear
part of a bum steer

could tell by the thunder
a bus Trump was caught under
one more big blunder

will commit a crime
Trump never has been on time
did write a poor rhyme


Trump had day in court
missed paying his child

Long Skirt

Tiny little fingers
inside a box
hot water bottles
needing love
what was the purpose?
I don't know
she got here
against the odds...

Washing dishes
food for the day
young eyes
young age
wondering what life
she was going to get
young boys nearby
wanted her

The wrong one showed up
and all went wrong
nice way to lie
too many words
small turns big
when you are lost
the skirts once long
he broke...

Under the stars
she

Gypsy Skirt Upon Her Exotic Hips

Gypsy skirt,
Upon her exotic hips,
That embraces,
Her painterly,
silhouette,
To carefreely flow,
In the winds of her salsa,
Beauty,,
And caress her rhythms,
From firm sunset gallops,
to sweet repose,

From what shore,
Did she gather your flowers,
Surreal honey,

Her hips are so comfy,
and cozy,
In your loving fibers,
And adept garden waves,
As her hem dreams,
Its flowers,
To dance with her,
Crescendos,
And gaze of her sighs,
Gypsy skirt,
upon her exotic hips,
And

Puddle

It's in the evening time in June                                               The south

Dont Seize Debtor By the Neck

Don’t seize a bad debtor by the neck
Nor the man who did your chances wreck:
A seized neck gives not back a lost chance,
Your mistempered palms not for a glance...

Some seize necks when their wives get a peck
Not in secret, in an open deck
And they don’t care when owners’ feet dance
To the beat of enthused ambulance!

It’s

Toughest Skirt For a Wide Hip

Quite awful had been the gossip:
About a widening girl's hip.
"Why would it not Holy Men trip
And apart the toughest skirt rip?"

Quite idle had been the gossip:
About Eves' wears eyes could off strip;
From speaker worker's sweat drip,
Sometimes, audience clammy hands grip

Gossipy lips that could wine sip;
There were hands who could his glass tip!
Lips good at digging

Skirt Or Trouser

A skirt can sway like summer breeze
Its fabric, soft as petals from trees
A dancer's dream, a poet's muse
A canvas of colors, a vision to choose

The way it hugs the hips, so light
A symbol of grace, a picture of might
It twirls and spins, a whirlwind of art
A garment of beauty, a work of heart

But a trouser

I Have To Have a Short Plaid Skirt

My mother had three magazines coming monthly in the sixties.
Women’s Day, Redbook and Ladies Home Journal.
American Girl Magazine made its debut, and she bought if for us.
My twin and I.
I remember thinking “who dresses like this?”
With the first edition.
By the third month I had to have white go go boots.
And a short plaid skirt.
But of

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