He is sleeping.
And I have taken time
To watch and enjoy him;
He is wearing a white undershirt,
That shows his white arms
And smooth skin;
The line of his muscles,
Play with the light.
And I can not but fix my eyes
On his strength coming out
And evaporating in the room;
A handsome flexible animal.
Designed to be fast and effective;
A beautiful leopard.
Fleeing over the green heaven;
This is he,
With his long and large muscles
On his legs
And arms;
With his strong and flexible spine;
He is my lover,
Companion, exotic animal.
Inspired by no one but his own strength and exuberance;
Categories:
undershirt, art,
Form: Free verse
Gussied up Frog Lady is proper but not prim.
Her grotesque legs are thick and spotted, not thin.
She wears pantaloons with lace of cotton white.
Her stretched out undershirt is way too tight.
Frog Lady tries to put her pinkie up to drink.
Her fingers are webbed, and nothing is pink.
We can tell she is trying to be better than us.
She is an arrogant woman, says Mrs. McGus.
Categories:
undershirt, 1st grade, 2nd grade,
Form: Rhyme
[According to Mr Google, what we Brits call a vest is
what Americans call an undershirt]
The completely cuckoo cuckoo
Had got too big for his nest
And so he made a hammock
From a tatty old string vest
But when he hung it up he slipped
His feet went through the mesh
He flapped until his skin rubbed raw
And he was featherless
So looking like a chicken
Or an oven ready duck
He shouted I need stuffing
Flapped his wings and went cluck, cluck
Pulled faces acting bonkers
Happy as a pig in muck
Then made a swimming motion
Going quack, quack like a duck
He thought he’d keep on clucking
Until all his feathers grew
And then just like a turkey
He went gobble gobble too
But when the farmer raised his gun
And said my lunch is you
The completely cuckoo cuckoo yelled
CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO!
Categories:
undershirt, bird, humorous, nursery rhyme,
Form: Rhyme
I saw a heart on a Large pink to scarlet web-footed wading bird with down-bent bill,
The heart was pink and so very hard to see, but I knew it was there,
Because it was in my little Minnie’s smile.
Her favorite long sleeved shirts have hearts on them,
Underneath she wears a short-sleeved cotton one; for comfort,
Today's undershirt had the wading bird on it!
4 years old, happy with her
Heart and Flamingo and Playful smile.
©david byrne Jan 2021
Categories:
undershirt, child, childhood, ireland, joy,
Form: Free verse
Holbert
Brogans and overalls by Lee;
Making cotton baskets ‘neath a white oak tree.
A grandfather I never really knew
that smoked Prince Albert; it was tried and true.
Went by the name Holbert.
His wallet in his bib; no undershirt.
Sitting in a porch swing he made.
Across his yard the world he surveyed.
Once shotgunned an innocent crane.
Never had he seen such a thing;
Must be some kinda dinosaur.
One shot and it was no more.
Used a jar full of Morgan silver dollars
to buy tires for his ’49 Chevy.
Actions always prove who are the dullards.
No one ever accused him of being heady.
In the middle of the night once shot a stray.
Such dogs often killed our chickens.
Mortally wounded it died under our house
and started to decay.
My job to drag it out as my stomach
started to sicken.
Often to First Monday we would trek.
In his Sunday overalls he was bedecked.
Ripley a good place for selling baskets.
I would always watch to learn his tactics.
Soon old age came to stay.
Early in March he went away.
A lifetime ago it seems,
but often he returns to me
in my dreams.
Categories:
undershirt, america, beautiful, character, family,
Form: Rhyme
Gundabooka Sam
Old Sam squats at Gundabooka
Somewhere out the back of Bourke,
He lives in a shanty hut,
Doesn't seem to do much work,
He wears rope-held trousers
And a long-john undershirt,
His crumpled hat's seen better days
Always covered in red dirt.
Old Sam he has a kookie
That sits upon his hat,
It always laughs its loudest
When Sam reaches for a pat,
He also has a hairy-nose
That follows him around,
That is when that wombat's
Not digging in the ground.
Sam, Sam, from Gundabooka
Always quick with an outback yarn,
Tells tales of outback men
And how some came to harm,
You can hear his raucous laugh
When he cracks a bush joke,
Rolling, rollicking, frolicking,
He's one hell of a squatting bloke.
Sam’s hair and beard are quite red
Although the locals aren’t quite sure,
If it’s just where the red dust gathered,
Maybe they were black well before,
The time he came to live
In his Gundabooka shack,
So far off the beaten path
Even the boomerangs don’t come back.
Categories:
undershirt, funny,
Form: Lyric
My Guru stole my underwear!
I don't remember when,
I don't remember where,
all I know for certain is
my Guru stole my underwear!
I practiced my mantra
for days and days
to reach a higher state.
what do I see when
I come down?
My Guru sneaking round
the corner, and
I'd lost my underpants!
Ah yes, the meditative mode,
it takes an effort to achieve.
But, one day I did it, and
found my undershirt had
taken leave.
I grilled my Guru for hours.
I even left him flowers but
he denied the shirt he was wearing
had anything to do with me.
And, of course we are taught
from birth,
that gurus don't deceive!
My Guru stole my underwear.
I don't remember when,
I don't remember where,
all I know for certain is
My guru stole my underwear!
Categories:
undershirt, irony,
Form: Free verse
Seated on the sidewalk,
singing under his breath,
a soloist in gray & black,
performing the hard way
for pennies in his guitar case.
Focus closely now
on the brown fold
of undershirt closest to his body,
the almost white of his eyes,
skin burned red.
Hope’s long gone,
turned blue in the dust
of his visible despair.
Categories:
undershirt, sad,
Form: Free verse