Tuxes Poems | Examples

Mrs McVim the Town Seamstress

Can’t any other mamas make pleats, take a tuck or hem?
Mrs. McVim, the town’s notorious seamstress asked of Dick and Jim.
Their mother was dead, so she could not help them.
She ended up shortening the tuxes of these two and their cousin Slim.

Slim’s mother was a seamstress, but too pooped at the end of the day
To do any more hemming, or seams, and she was ready to play.
Slim was appreciative as were his two cousins Dick and Jim.
They chipped in and bought a new sewing machine for Mrs. McVim

Staging the Night

Alabaster staircase framing chandeliers
    Picassos, Renoirs, Van Goghs lining the walls
  Marble floors, dazzling in the starlight
    Polished perfection staging the Night

  Dainties, delicacies, tray after tray
    Sweetmeats, exotic fruits, more on the way
  Debonair men in their tuxes emerge from limousines
    Women goddesses wear sequined gowns, leggy queens

  Playboys, playgirls of the Riviera making the scene
    Jealousy left wondering what it all means

Heavenly Hosts

My hosts are heavenly
Diamonds in the sky
Celebrants shine, revealed
  Tuxes, tails, bow-ties

Dainty hors doeuvres
Sparkling champagne
Palatial glows the galaxy
  Bows to bygone royalty

Those Turkeys Look Perfect

Everyone wears tuxes and evening gowns
on the beach
and high heeled shoes
or highly polished winged tips
in magazines, anyway, the beautiful people.

Can you imagine walking or even trying
to walk in sand in high-heeled shoes?
Or how extra pretty your long dress
will look after it gets into wet sand?

Here they are. The ultra rich
on the cover of a prominent magazine
flaunting their evening gowns and high heels
in a beach on the sand.

This reminds me of something my cousin
told me once.  You know those turkeys 
on magazine covers that you look at 
around Thanksgivings time?  
They look perfect!

We can never get ours to look the same.
Okay. Here is the rub. Those turkeys are
PAINTED. They are RAW.  Did not know that did you?
Sometimes what we see is not what is real at all.

In a West Coast State of Mind

Gentle fog
descends from the rooftops
as sleek tuxes
evening gowns
crowd the velvet rope below

Breathy sax notes
drift out to the sidewalk
through the open front door
all gravelly and clear
breakin every rule
makin it up right on the spot
soft piano and bass
behind him
just comping while he jams

Couples in line
for the second show
lean forward
to steal a listen
check their wristwatch

Drummer gets frantic
with a blast beat
on the cymbals and snare
sayin it's his turn now
then settles down
to a quick steady bounce
from the corner
of groove and feel

Banana liqueur
in a tall chilled glass
makes that long wait outside
almost worth it:
tropical refreshment
with just a hint of hibiscus
a delightfully
sweet
jazzy
kick

The Beginning of the Beginning

Prom.
Crepe paper streamers
Glitter and fuss
Fancy dresses
Ridiculous prices
Stylish Tuxes.
New colors, to impress
Limo?
What?
It's not a wedding, people!
It's a dance,
though few will.
Most will rush around,
stiff in their clothes.
Holding their stomachs in.

Who Really Wins

While watching the Oscars
I sit here and I think
They all look so fancy 
In their tuxes and minks

These actors who make millions
Playing someone they're not
While I sit here on the couch
Envious of all that they've got

But when we dig deeper
And look past their fame
You start to realize 
That we're all the same

If we could turn the camera around 
And they could watch us
It is these celebrities
Who would really be jealous

Midnight Romance

Debutantes with secret lives of crimson
could drink and smoke much more than anyone,
dressed in ivory postbellum fashion
sable coats, charcoal tuxes by the ton.

In and out of shadows obsidian
debs and escorts waltzed like porcelain toys,
social ceremony called cotillion
guarantee of attention from the boys.

Ash of Roses with absinthe leaves bouquet
trembling soft in their clutching white gloved hand.
A graceful bow one Midnight moon in May
and honored parents thought the time was grand.

Cerulean flashes blinded young eyes
in days when truth was buried with disguise.

10/17/17

Ash of Roses   Absinthe  Cerulean  Charcoal  Crimson  Ivory   Obsidian Porcelain   Sable  Smoke


Midnight Romance Contest

Puttin On the Ritz

The highest of the class with lots of flowing cash,
with gorgeous eveningball gowns and tuxes with  the sash.
They come to drink and dance the night away,
And no one  goes home till they see the light of day.

The expensive luxurious cars that come and go,
traveling miles from a distance to get to the show.
The men watch and  admire the women on the sly,
as the ladies sashay across the room to catch a wondering eye.

The horns start to blowin and the base gets to bumpin,
And shortly after that this joint starts to jumpin.
The men grab the ladies hands and lead them to the stage,
and before you know it everyone's dancing up the latest rage.

The ladies stay cute and the men stay cool,
never lose your cool that's  the golden rule.
Dancing up a storm all to the latest hits,
Now that's what's known as Puttin On The Ritz.

By: Gwen B Mason Gibbs
9/5/15

Love Hints

I was trying to be fair
Hiding all my fragile tears
From a man who didn't seem
To notice all my future dreams
Magazines of pretty brides
Tuxes, suits, and fancy ties
Romantic movies on date night
Love songs playing in the night
Pointing out rings in the store
A man I will always adore
Oblivious to all I want
Even though I've tried to flaunt
Signs on front of his blind eyes
That I want our heartstrings tied
Together for now and always
Maybe adding extra foreplay
Will entice him to begin
A day of really noticing
We were meant for one another
When he's near I start to shudder
With excitement and the joy
Knowing he's my sexy boy
Even though my wedding day
Seemed to never come my way
Until one morning he was there
In his eyes were lots of tears
With a ring and bended knee
He took my hand so shakily
A timid voice and loving speech
Now were lying on the beach
This honeymoon will always last
The hints I gave him in the past
Joined us forever till the end
We'll always be best of friends

Oscar Night

I’ve seen the Golden Globe awards,
The People’s Choice, the SAG,
Which lets us know, for Oscar night,
Which prize is in the bag.

The only one real obvious,
Consensus is a factor,
Is Lincoln’s star, Day-Lewis,
Who’s a shoo-in for best actor.

The rest are up for grabs, I guess,
With choices to compare;
The question is, at this late date,
If anyone could care.

We’ve watched the actors strut their stuff,
With glamour gowns galore,
Or tuxes, as the case may be,
But it’s been done before.

The Oscars show, once all the rage,
In sequence comes in last.
We’ve heard the speeches, seen the tears
And all that hype has passed.

Of course, I’ll watch the show tonight,
‘Cause that’s what people do;
Though why we care about these things,
I haven’t got a clue.

Disturbed

i dont know much about him 
but i heard he wasnt talkative 
he didnt like being alive 
he was numb to all the stuff he had seen
i heard he didnt like anything green 
he ate roman noodles everynight for supper 
he always wore skinny jeans and black clothes 
sometimes i seen him were tuxes and nice shoes 
but lately he has been wearing band shirts
he wears converse shoes and uses and army bag for school
he always walks in the woods and never around town 
i head hes very private 
i know that he doesnt communicate throught talking only through his peoms or by lyrics from a song
i see him drawing or painting 
when he tries to speak to anyone they always walk away and leave him alone
when he goes home he goes upstairs and smokes cutting himself till the blood drains from his skin
His family left him behind because he cant forget his past
sometimes he comtemplates the meaning behind his life 
his favorite color is gray because his like is in black and white
hes not so innocent 
he is someone fake 
he knows of no god 
his life was smashed into pieces by the giant sun 
he knows of a darkest place where i usually see him lay 
he crawls around in his own skin because he is disturbed

Masquerade

How do you do?
Would you like to dance? 
Just take my gloved hand
And fall into my trance.
Questions apon questions 
Of who you may be.
But don't say a word
Romance is a mystery.
Tuxes and gowns and elegancies
Masks and secrets and delicacies.
Champagne and laughter and ballroom dances
Untold lives and tales and one-last chances.
Out of the clear and into the blur
Don't know if it is she or her.
A feathered mask on fate's face
Only at the masquerade.

Getting Ready

Getting ready for a wedding
It's the hardest thing to do
One minute you're feeling happy
The next, you're all unglued
The wedding cake, the flowers
You're trying to find the best
In all the uproar and excitement
You've forgotten your favorite guest
The tuxes and the dresses
What color will they be
The depression of choosing
But, the decision is up to me
The guest book, announcements and
Finding the right address
To having a nice wedding
You will want God to bless
So, yes, I'm not ready
To have this special day
So, make sure you think of me
Whenever you begin to pray

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