Skivvies Poems | Examples

Harlot

her skivvies
fine imported lace
King Louis
satisfied
cologne covers the harlot
it stinks at Versaille

Little Miss Vivi

Little Miss Vivi
Stripped down to her skivvies,
Got under a quilt in the cold.

And just like our daughter,
Won’t wear what we bought her,
Or that’s the story, I’m told.

At least Vivi’s mamma
Keeps on her pajamas
Since she’s past thirty years old.

Deciding To Live

It had been a bad month; Jim was exhausted from death.
He drove to their favorite lake and took off his clothes.
Wandered into the cold water in his skivvies, hoping for life.
His mouth made a loud gasp as the icy water hit his lower back. 

It was twilight, the woods around the lake were ominous.
He felt the trees looking at him, waiting in anticipation.
Maybe they thought he would kill himself.
Was he that desperate?  

He had not felt anything but grief since his wife died.
The icy lake was changing him from grief stricken widower to survivor.
He began to shiver and shake; his teeth were chattering.
You are alive! An inner voice said, in a celebratory way.

Jim knew that he had needed this. He heard a tiny giggle.
His head snapped to his right. It was his wife’s voice.
But she was dead, wasn’t she?  He expected to see her.
There were no other words. He dove under the water.

Expected to see her as a mermaid, but she was not flesh.
She might never be flesh again. But then again, she might be.
His mother believed in reincarnation, and there was a baby coming.
He drove to his daughter’s house to have a cup of coffee.
Deciding to live.

Deciding To Live

It had been a bad month; Jim was exhausted from death.
He drove to their favorite lake and took off his clothes.
Wandered into the cold water in his skivvies, hoping for life.
His mouth made a loud gasp as the icy water hit his lower back.

It was twilight, the woods around the lake were ominous.
He felt the trees looking at him, waiting in anticipation.
Maybe they thought he would kill himself.
Was he that desperate?

He had not felt anything but grief since his wife died.
The icy lake was changing him from grief stricken widower to survivor.
He began to shiver and shake; his teeth were chattering.
You are alive! An inner voice said, in a celebratory way.

Jim knew that he had needed this. He heard a tiny giggle.
His head snapped to his right. It was his wife’s voice.
But she was dead, wasn’t she? He expected to see her.
There were no other words. He dove under the water.

Expected to see her as a mermaid, but she was not flesh.
She might never be flesh again. But then again, she might be.
His mother believed in reincarnation, and there was a baby coming.
He drove to his daughter’s house to have a cup of coffee.
Deciding to live.

Tiptoe Through the Tulips

Just woke up to this gorgeous day
What joy, think I'll go out to play
In my skivvies I will
Oh what a thrill
Tiptoe through the tulips twittering away

Wife of the Party

WIFE OF THE PARTY

                   skinny-dips, no flips
           no dubious belly flops
        bare nekkid reality
    without his skivvies
he’s the life of the party

. . . the jaybird’s wife walks away

7/16/2019

Tiptoe Through the Tulips

Just woke up to this gorgeous day
What joy, think I'll go out to play
In my skivvies, I will
Oh what a thrill
Tiptoe through the tulips twittering away

Dressed To a Kill

the rain spilled its barrels on my way to work
hit a pot hole and the tire split
the spare like a donut was cream filled
a passing motorist splashed me with a puddle
my nice matching suit was not drip dry
could not go to the office looking like this
stopped at the cleaners for a dry clean
told them to hurry so I wouldn’t be late
the suit came rolling out on the circling rack
missing some buttons and cuffs turned up
I gave them the bird and dashed out in my skivvies
was picked up for indecent exposure
taken to court which the judge then laughed
“didn’t your mama tell you they’d be days like this?
 I replied didn’t your mama  tell you to only wear fruit of the loom?

Almost 60 Degrees

Almost 60 degrees, what's happening, NOT complaining
Must get this straight, a little perplexing but entertaining
Will run out in my skivvies
But won't show my privies
That would encourage girlies to ask for training

Tiptoe Through the Tulips

Just woke up to this gorgeous day
What joy, think I'll go out to play
In my skivvies I will
Oh what a thrill
Tiptoe through the tulips whispering naughty phrases

What Poetry Has Done To Me

Here I sit
In my basement
In my skivvies
Late at night
Ignoring all my
Family duties
Contemplating
What next to write
All I am now
Is skin and bones
No time lately
For a bite
Can't think of when 
I last shaved or bathed
Perhaps 2009?
Poetry
While fun for me
Has hung me 
Out to dry
Since skinny dipping 
In this soup
In the prime 
Of my life
Could someone 
On the outside
Tell me is it day 
Or is it night
And have they dropped 
The big one yet
I need a new subject
On which to write

Are We Ever Alone

Are we ever alone, dear brother, 
when our black and white hands say
Treasure and Lack?
Are we ever alone dear sister, 
when friends stalk roundabout
skivvies and shorts?
Are we ever alone dear mother, 
when your discipline hardens my thoughts?
Are we ever alone dear father, 
when your collection plates 
Entice me to sin?
We are never alone sweet sympathy, 
sorrow, and sweaty, sitting idly by. 
Politely lick my sores of reveries abandoned, 
and pollutions of lung and limb, 
correct my soul, like a turtle upturned.

My Skivvies

It's the real thing, just hear me sing
It's not another one of those one night flings
It's love through and through
A love true blue
My heart and my skivvies are both in a sling


© Jack Ellison 2015

Poetry Is a Risky Business

Poetry is a Risky Business

The Recipe for Poetry

Open stereo
Turn volume medium high
Poor 3 shots of whiskey
Add 2 bottles of wine
Open 1 bag of chips
Add one box of Oreos
Listen to Alice Cooper
Then Abba
Then Dance of the knights
Then listen to all 3 at the same time
Stick pins into the doll of your ex
For added drama add some ketchup
Open up 2 brands of cheese
Because that shows some class that you have 2 types on hand
Do this
Before opening second bottle of wine
This way you’re not an alcoholic
Turn on some Paul McCartney and Uriah Heep
During moments the stereo is on high volume
Sing along
Down to the skivvies it is, if you have a hockey stick
A little air guitar for some added inspiration
Cut up some Edgar Allen Poe poems
To put between the Oreos and cheese
Eat till the feeling of darkness overcomes you
Let your thoughts simmer 5 hours
Voila done


When you wake up
You should have 1 or 2 poems facing you

Leaf Briefs

Underwear used to be a fig leaf
Then somebody invented the brief
I think it’s absurd
To name it that word
I mean, what’s briefer than a leaf?

Was it named by a white collar thief?
Like a lawyer who longed to be chief?
I could see his purport
When he said in court
“Your Honor, I’ll make this brief, brief, brief.”

“First of all, I would not use a leaf
As our skivvies’ business motif.”
He then rests his brief case
And picks up his briefcase
That held leafs of briefs, and the chief’s briefs.

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