Love Poems About Clothes or Clothes Love Poems

Clothes love poems and/or love poems about Clothes. Read, share, and enjoy these Clothes love poems! Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for poems.

Poem Details | by Laura Breidenthal |
Categories: beautiful, beauty, candy, care, childhood, chocolate, clothes, emotions, feelings, friendship, giving, grandchild, grandmother, grandparents, happiness, happy, heart, hope, i love you, inspiration, inspirational, love, niece, peace, uplifting,

Love Never Fades

There's a little history to this particular poemI know I wrote it when I was 11 or 12 years oldI wrote it for my Grandma Dorabel, who is today 90 years oldI also wrote it for my uncle John who had been taking care of her at the time; I didn't want to leave him out so I put on the letter: For Grandma Dee and Uncle John! I wrote this short little poem along with a drawing of a cat and some flowersHowever, I actually never sent the picture to her! My parents and I must have forgotten to send! To me that was unacceptable! I thought to myself today when I found the picture, I must send it now! The picture is now on its way to her, so I am happy she will at last receive it

---------------------------- You can send me a bouquet of flowers, You can order me a box of chocolates, You can buy me a fancy outfit, But flowers don't last, Chocolates eventually disappear, Outfits get out of style, Yet Love never fades, And it's the most precious gift of all


Poem Details | by Robert Candler |
Categories: age, angst, body, caregiving, cheer up, clothes, cute love, desire, fantasy, funny, funny love, giggle, giving, happiness, happy, humorous, husband, love, lust, marriage, mom, mother, parents, relationship, romance, sexy, smile, son, stress, together, wife,

The Happy Dress

It’s a mother-in-law’s right, her prerogative 
To ‘drop in’ on her son almost any time,
But a mother-in-law should always be prepared
For almost anything she may find.

So, Mother Cready dropped in unannounced;
But as she approached her son’s front door,
Suddenly it opened “Ta Da!  Do you like my happy dress?”
His young wife stood there in her ‘all in all’…nothing more.

“Oh, my word!” Mother Cready exclaimed with surprise.
“Why are you naked?  Are you insane?”
Just as surprised, the young wife pulled her inside.
“Please, Mother Cready…if you’ll just let me explain.

You see, when Mac has had a rough day,
When he’s been under a lot of stress,
Sometimes I meet him at the door
With a smile and a kiss in my happy dress.

It always relaxes him and makes him happy,
Then he makes me very happy too.
It works for Mac and me, Mother Cready;
Maybe it would work for you.”

“We’re too old for such.” scoffed Mother Cready.
“Perhaps if we were young like the two of you.”
But, on her way home, she decided
She was definitely going to try it too.

So, she bathed and put on some nice perfume,
Fixed her make-up and her hair.
She was thinking some very sexy thoughts,
But she had to hurry…no time to spare.

She heard her husband’s car in the driveway;
And as he approached their front door,
She threw it open “Ta Da! Do you like my happy dress?"
She stood there in her ‘all in all’…nothing more.

She saw a little grimace cross his face,
But that was not the worst.
Then he said, “I appreciate your happy dress, my dear;
But maybe you should have ironed it first.”

ALTERNATE LAST VERSE

“Well…your ‘happy dress’ could use some ironing;
But my birthday suit could use some starch.”
He kissed her“Bet you and I can work it out.”;
And off to bed they marched.


Poem Details | by rachel blake |
Categories: absence, addiction, america, anniversary, beautiful, best friend, body, boyfriend, career, change, clothes, desire, emotions, farewell, feelings, first love, for him, future, goodbye, growing up, heart, how i feel, i love you, longing, me, miss you, nostalgia, poems, romance, sad love, simple, soldier,

The First Goodbye

laying in your bed
watching you
get dressed
the permanent ring in the
back pocket
of your blue jeans
i’m missing you already


Poem Details | by Denise Hopkins |
Categories: baby, birth, chocolate, clothes, confidence, crazy, creation, cute love, encouraging, family, god, little sister, love, sister,

SISTERS

Sisters are meant forever, so they say only, I have a little sister god sent my way she is my friend through all life's troubles and my guide through the rough and shallow wails I didn't choose to love her this much but I did so, with God's almighty touch I have an older sister, God had previously sent but we never became the friends that we were meant so birth alone, does not bond siblings but the truth here is ever so clear I grew to love my baby sister dear many of brothers too fill up my heart but, still it's only young Tammy I can not be apart no one else has such control over my heart
22nd of September 2016


Poem Details | by Chris Boskovski |
Categories: baby, beautiful, beauty, clothes, color, day, dedication, desire, farewell, first love, for her, freedom, friend, friendship, happy, how i feel, i love you, lost, love, passion, romance, romantic, sad love, smile, symbolism, sympathy, woman,

Miss Ladybug

Wearing your red pock-a-dot dress
Miss Ladybug, you look divine,
it is beautiful today, the sun is out.

Go now, Miss Ladybug,
flutter your wings,
buzz away from me.

Go now, fly Miss Ladybug.
Point me in the direction of love,
see you flying North.

May I say, Miss Ladybug,
that you look divine,
and beautiful as ever.

I walk North,
I follow you Miss Ladybug,
point me to her.

You flutter over to a beautiul girl,
five foot, seven.
Nice pick Miss Ladybug.

I walk over to the girl,
She is beautiful,
long hair, jet black, flowing.

Miss Ladybug thank you,
now fly away,
I shall need you for another day.

Take me away now, baby
show me something new,
take me away from the few.

And Miss Ladybug,
there she went off into the sunset,
with her red pock-a-dot dress
flowing in the breeze, alone.


Poem Details | by Spenser Jones |
Categories: girlfriend-boyfriend, life, loss, love, sad, house, me, world, people, voice, clothes, house, me, people, voice,

DISTANCE

Sometimes I still use a cordless house phone
When I call her I imagine her wrapping an invisible cord around her finger 
as if she were only walking slowly the opposite direction as the cord stretched further
When she talks she says she likes to feel her voice as it runs away from meShe says that she wants me to believe distance is just a myth our minds createdWhen she held me I was a last box on a moving vanI was stretched out like piano wire waiting for a hammer to knock the breath back into meHer hands forced me upward like keys pounding harmony

She is the hottest day of summer telling me to wake up and find water and her bed is an oasis
Our clothes scattered a mosaic across the paint spotted carpet
We read to each other from the bookshelf on the corner
The one that sagged in the middle until all its shelves were smiling, ready to laugh loose their stories
The morning she left the half-closed shades left cords of sunlight stretching across her chest 
and I traced them but there were highways, and she the smallest country
When she calls me she traces her breath as it spirals like a hurricane to the wall and bounces between citiesHer voice is strangled with 350 miles of telephone lines
The clothes we dressed our floors with for months have been stripped away
The room is naked now and the bookshelf, half emptyWhen I think of that house 
she is the only thing I can rememberEverything else fades, the room disappears entirely and I remember only having lived inside herHome is where the heart is

The first astronomers who looked up there had to have discovered sparkling new words about how far two things can beWe build telescopes to force everything closer
I have built myself a telescope with bed posts and bathroom mirrors
On warm nights I climb to the top of my room and look west where the world curves her away from meI know now why the myth of a flat earth existed for so long
It is not a story of people afraid of falling but of people terrified of growing apart, 
reading that if you stare hard enough at the horizon, you’ll be able to find anyone who is left youBut “listen” she saysThe blind man on my block had his cataracts removed
He told me when he looked out his window for the first time he couldn’t understand why his hand was larger than the houses across the road
He couldn’t grasp how things look smaller at a distance so close your eyes
Stop looking for me in satellites fading below the skylineLet us make this world flat again
I am always right here
This continent is just our kitchen table
These highways piano strings
The same note ringing resonating between us.
God keeps our sight stronger with eyes that we will never see by looking in a mirror.


Poem Details | by William Robinson |
Categories: funny, love, people,

CLOTHES MAKE THE WOMAN

There was a young lady named Dela,
Who always dressed well for her feller.
What did Delaware?
I really don't care,
But I think she should have dressed weller.


Poem Details | by B S Sky |
Categories: addiction, adventure, age, angel, baby, chocolate, clothes, for her, forgiveness, friend, girl,

Love is so hurting: Let the tears talk

In your face,
I show a dream,
In that lovely dream I show gorgeous face,
Wanted to capture you in my heart,
But the dream faded away.

The dream became reality,
When you failed to,
To understand,
What really I thought of you,
Can’t tell how painful it is.

Pain is hurting me,
I am working but thinking,
I am walking but thinking,
I am talking but thinking,
Only of you, please do not do this to me.

Still in your face,
I see a dream,
In that hurting dream I still see your angel face,
Still wanting to capture you from that dream,
Just wish this time it doesn’t faded away.


Poem Details | by Malcolm Brooks |
Categories: adventure, bible, black african american, blue, change, christian, clothes, day, education, heaven, journey, joy, love, poetry, visionary,

This is the Day

This is the day which the lord hath made;
We will rejoice and be glad in it.
But we rather be sad in it
We rather hate in it
Kill, Steal and Destroy
Boast about our joy
Money, Cars and Cloths
Tell us you got all the hoes
Why do are women want to be hoes
Why we dancing on poles
Men don’t you know women are a key ingredient to our souls
Women don’t you know, your worth more than pure gold
Platinum, Crystals, and Diamonds

This is the day which the lord hath made;
We will rejoice and be glade in it.
That is the only way we are going to save our planet
We have to make our way, because we are here to stay
Hold on to what is right, believing in your rights
Love is the only weapon you need to fight
Because This is the Day where everything change
This is the Day where we are only calling on one name
This is the Day where we all get to see them fancy things
This is the Day where there are no more nightmares and only dreams
This is the Day where you will see greener pastures and blue streams
This is the Day where we all are announced kings and queens
This is the Day Heaven begins to sing


Poem Details | by Suzette Richards |
Categories: clothes, dream, drink, emotions, farewell, lost love, relationship, woman,

DREAM ON A GATE

Opening the gate onto my future 
My heart pounds in anticipation
Leaving behind my haunting past
A full moon promises new horizons 

My heart pounds in anticipation
Your face came to me in dreams
A full moon promises new horizons 
Our passions know no limit

Your face came to me in dreams
My suitcase stands at the door
Our passions know no limit
A whiskey bottle lies empty on the floor

My suitcase stands at the door
The clothes I brought, too drab
A whiskey bottle lies empty on the floor
Everything too loud and cloy

The clothes I brought, too drab
The new negligée in red and black 
Everything too loud and cloy
Lying crumbled on the floor

The new negligée in red and black 
As if torn from my very soul
Lying crumbled on the floor
My spirit never broken

As if torn from my very soul
Leaving behind my haunting past
My spirit never broken
Opening the gate onto my future




Sponsor	Debbie Guzzi
Contest Name	Dream On  [Inspired by the 3rd picture in contest rules]


Poem Details | by JAN ALLISON |
Categories: clothes, how i feel, humorous, tribute, , cute,

'AND I LOVE YOU SO' Parody

I WISH I'D LEARNED TO SEW

I wish I’d learned to sew My mother asks me how How I’ve survived till now… I tell her I don’t know I’m feeling so forlorn My socks got old and worn So I’ve thrown them in the bin I cannot take it in And yes I know how cold my toes will be Those socks were so lovely Now my feet feel so chilly I'm sad my darning skills have let me down And now my feet are icy (Original lyrics were written by Don Mclean) ****** A tribute to my penguin socks I’ve walked all over you, but that’s all in the past I knew that our relationship wasn’t strong enough to last You’d always been part of a matching pair But the thinning fabric I can no longer repair I’m finding it extremely difficult to finally let go But the hole in my heel was just too huge to sew I’ve had this pair of socks for about 4 years thye were my absolute favourite ones and had cute penguins on the them… but the threads were so worn so thin they have disintegrated and yesterday my heel went through and they cannot be repaired and are now confined to the waste bin … its poetic licence about not being able to sew as I have mended them many times in the past 11-16-17


Poem Details | by B S Sky |
Categories: addiction, adventure, age, angel, baby, chocolate, clothes, for her, forgiveness, friend, girl,

Love is so hurting: Let the tears talk

In your face,
I show a dream,
In that lovely dream I show gorgeous face,
Wanted to capture you in my heart,
But the dream faded away.

The dream became reality,
When you failed to,
To understand,
What really I thought of you,
Can’t tell how painful it is.

Pain is hurting me,
I am working but thinking,
I am walking but thinking,
I am talking but thinking,
Only of you, please do not do this to me.

Still in your face,
I see a dream,
In that hurting dream I still see your angel face,
Still wanting to capture you from that dream,
Just wish this time it doesn’t faded away.


Poem Details | by Samantha Senft-Greenberg |
Categories: art, beautiful, body, clothes, hair, introspection, love, people,

Painted People

I know of a man, a normal man.
He has hair and eyes
and wears clothes and shoes.
He walks, he breathes, he blinks.
He bathes, he sleeps, he eats.

I think I love this normal man
for I, too, have hair and eyes
and I wear clothes and shoes.
I walk, I breathe, I blink.
I bathe, I sleep, I eat.

We are perfect for each other
how could we not be?
We grin, we frown, we laugh.
We have fingers and toes
and hearts and brains.

I know of a man, an ordinary man
whose body is clean and clear
like an empty canvas with perfect lines and shapes
steadily painted on to form an elegant horizon
and hung for all to admire.

I think I love this ordinary man
for his colors are soothing and dull
with perfect portions of hues painted throughout.
He is smooth and light
weighing only as much as his frame.

We are perfect for each other
how could we not be?
He is perfection; a piece of art
and I, an admirer of art,
could not disregard his perfect eloquence.

I know of a man, a handsome man
whose body is a canvas painted purple by scars and bruises
with watercolor eyes, a pastel smile
and a backdrop smothered in charcoal,
and is hung in the rain to dry.

I think I love this handsome man
for I am an admirer of art.
Rugged edges take place of an invisible frame that shapes him.
His paint is slathered on
causing disfigurement in the crooked horizon of his design.

We are perfect for each other
but how could we be?
He is perfection; pieces of art
hung out for the world to analyze.
And I, a mere admirer of art, stand at a distance in reverence

I know a man, a handsome man
who is normal and different and strange.
He has hair and eyes
and wears clothes and shoes.
He grins, he frowns, he laughs.

I fell in love with this handsome man
for he has something no one else has:
My intrigued focus, which admires his blotches of heavy paint
splashed onto his flooded canvas.
He has depth, prominence, and ambiguity.

We are perfect for each other
how could we not be?
He is neither a beach nor sunset,
but a sweet disarray of shapes and lines
frantically scattered about in space.

And I, myself, an empty star,
am frantically searching 
for something in space.
And I am drawn to his darkness
for it shields my light.

And in this art show of a world
we are painted people, hung out to be bought and sold
admired and analyzed.
And I bought the dark, battered canvas
with no expression or poise

For I fell in love with this beautiful art,
and on my wall,
placed near the fire,
it will always hang to dry.


Poem Details | by Lee Brownlee |
Categories: death, heaven, jesus, love,

Heaven's Clothes

My hopes and dreams will remain,
Until I am clothed in the garment of angels.
Wrapped in heaven's cloth,
And swaddled in the arms of Jesus.
I recognize all who have passed before me,
Awaiting my appearance.
Relentless love for all to acquire,
Is the sweetness of His glory,
And His love to admire.

The softness of his breath on my neck,
As He gently whispers in my ear,
You've done a good job among,
The people you have met.
Your time has come for you to perform,
With my chosen flock who have also given their heart.

To those who have followed my teachings,
Shared their love with others they’ve known.
Cared for the weak, sick and weary,
They have earned their place,
To rest with the best.


Poem Details | by Lewis Raynes |
Categories: clothes, happiness, happy,

The thing we all love most

This morning I opened my cupboard and sighed then looked for clothes to get rid of.
To remove and donate, give away and throw out, the clothes I no longer love.

To keep or to throw? Missing buttons, are they broken? Colorful enough? Or are they torn? 
These questions and more I kept asking myself, about clothes that I had once proudly worn.

The pile of clothes to remove grew larger and bigger, filling bags up against my wall.
All of them were thrown for only one reason, their sizes had grown too small.

All they had to do was stretch a bit, in a few key places, just a few inches here or there.
They just had to relax their fiber a little, then all of them I’d gladly re-wear.

But they were stubborn, their thread didn’t budge, of course we had to go our own way.
Now I’m happy, upbeat, ecstatic, am thrilledI’m shopping for clothes all day.


Poem Details | by James Kelley |
Categories: drink, imagery, lost love, love, love hurts, metaphor, pain,

Forgotten Clothes and Stolen Whiskey

She left me cold, like a forgotten sweater.

Walked right out the door, without even checking the weather.

Now I’m crumpled up by the fireplace, frayed by the rough

edges of ashen bricks that smell of burnt flowers and sun tan lotion:

That stuff she always seemed to smell like, even in the harsh depths of winter

But coconut oil and rose petals aren’t enough to regulate body temperature;

So, I guess it was the whiskey that kept her flush that night,

because in the heart pocket of my jacket that she stole  

was a flask of absolution.

Each block she rounded, she doused her frigid organs with

another shot to warm the notion of shattering the path we built.

Fueling a new engine, to carry her blur past the life we once thought

was forged by two souls meant to keep each other warm.

But now this existence is kindled by abandoned perrineals 

and bloodshot revelation

I watch fire kissed petals curl up into themselves and gasp

for love’s last embrace until there’s nothing left for the 

fire to feed upon

It’s 3 A.M

The smoke is beginning to dissipate;

her throat is dry, her legs are tired

…We’re both so tired

I pull her sweater from the bricks,

feel the wool tear and clench my ribs

Gasp

I fold her warmth gently as if tending

to a wounded animal and tuck it

beneath my skull; hoping for dreams 

of summer nights, but sleep won’t come.

It left with her

She has reached her apartment.

Staggering toward the door, 

she thrusts shaking hands into

my jacket in search of keys.

The flask falls onto the concrete,

the last drops spill out

There is nothing left.

The door opens, and she falls to the bed,

cold in the leather too uncomfortable to return

-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved


Poem Details | by Misty Hoot |
Categories: adventure, fantasy, imagination, loveday, woman, women, clothes, day, hair, love, women,

Love that could not be

Love is an enchantment, a passion, but most of all a mystery.
  No one knows how it starts or where it will end
 But, once you've been stung by its infectious delight
  You want to feel that rush again and again
Let me start by telling you about a prince.
  Their has not been a man to match his beautiful appearance since
 Like most royalty he was notThey'd lay under trees and get thick 
  around the middle from all of the dining and wines.
 He was a prince of adventure who ran about and caused chaos.
  He also had a weakness for womenWomen of all kinds.
 One day he was passing through the kingdom to go to his Uncle's in the country.
  He looked through the crowds and saw nothing but men and women with 
 long shaggy hair who's clothes were dumpy.
  When he got sick of looking at all the gloom, his place in his readings 
 he was about to resume when he saw her.
There a woman stood, honey blond hair blazing against the sunHer clothes 
  were torn but he knew she was the oneHe prayed that 
 he would see her face again in another place
  His horse carried his carriage away but the memory of her beauty, 
  in his mind and heart, did stay.
 It grew dark and his uncle's estate came into the moonlightIt was a terrorizing 
  yet captivating sight
There were statues of things he'd never seen even in terrible dreams
Out he went and up the stairs to dream of his fair ladyHe knew this love could never be so 
  he brought comfort in one day seeing her, maybe.
 The next day he woke and went for a walkA woman with a hat was watering the roses.
There was something familiar about her dainty poses
Then she turned and smiled at him and his heart beat began to soar again! His love! They
must have heard his thoughts above
 They talked as much as they could without looking too suspiciousThey met by the tree on
the back of the land embracing each others kisses
This prince who was unlike other royalty did not care about his beauty and he was madly  
   deeply truly in love he came up with a strategy
 At night fall he went a mile out knowing there would be no one about and he began a flame.
 The flame roared out of control as he fed its vengeance.
 It climbed the estate and the people ran out wondering who did this.
He leaned his face close to the flames and his flesh began to burnIt left him scarred
beyond 
  recognitionHis lady showed concern but no one solved the mystery and they were free to
be enchanted by the love that could now be.


Poem Details | by Nurudeen Olaniran |
Categories: beauty, clothes, lost, love, music, woman,

My robe

so much so I adore my robe
my openness it protects
my robe no one has it type in the whole of the globe
so soothing that I don't imagine it in the hole
my robe
my robe

imagine my robe is stolen as a whole
where in the world do i search for my stolen robe
who do I employ to investigate in the rob
my expression is not hyperbole
my robe 
my robe 

you are so dare to me
my robe


Poem Details | by Roger Jordan |
Categories: loveworld, love, me, time, endurance,

The War of No Clothes

At the apex of the world which was where I was created
In the cosmos, I fought for love……..butt naked
I’ve gone where time was only known by the beat of our hearts
And brothas wonder what’ s the difference between a queef and a fart?........
Both are products or results of compression of air pressure
But that isn’t the subject matter back to fighting for pleasure
As I reminisced about the death of old school love gestures, 
Significant first kisses by un-ghetto named individuals like Diana and Lester, 
Taps on the window, the courting and dancing, being soaked to your draws in the rain
Then the romancing……..
They invested in chivalry and called sex emotion
We like no glove mo love! Where the oil and the lotion!
Don’t flinch on me people.
 I’m fighting for this intimacy with more consistency
I love unlocking couchie with the key
Never B&E, but sometimes down the chimney
They say “santa give me presentswould you put a baby into meHo hoMaybe?
I ran naked, hanging, past the end of the world
Checked all they ID cause women look just like little girls
When the haters say “don’t listen to em he’s a smooth talka!”
I took my thang and with a swang KO’d the cockblocka
I fought with the might of a thousand men
And the endurance to take on all the freaky women
It was heaven in a dream the first time I saw her
I fought her mind body and soul until she hollered
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! And into her I was swallowed……
We stalk each other so both of us was being followed 
Cause we didn’t ever wanna feel hollowed………
At the apex of the world which was where we were created
In the cosmos we fought for love……butt naked


Poem Details | by Andy Ellsworth |
Categories: allegory, beauty, car, clothes, hero, lost love, nostalgia, stars, storm, weather,

The Bomber and the Bombshell

She broke down 
Like a Ford in a storm 
Anything to garner a reaction 
Who could resist that pretty little red dress, 
Soaked, and covered in oil? 
Not anyone I knew, 
And I knew myself well
I slowed to a lame dog's pace 
to get a better look 
As she pulled a rusty iron 
From a burlap bag in the boot.
She very well coulda been 
Holding a Bible 
She looked so sorry

I changed in a phone booth 
Quick like the wind to her back 
And flew in on my red n' blues
A bomber makes a fine umbrella 
For a roadside Stella
And, by starlight she watched 
An artist in his element
She did her best to shield me 
With our leather lean-to 
As my hands made 
Their way under the skirt 
Of the broke lady; 
Handled with a delicate firmness 
Only experience can bestow.
I knew what I was doing

Graciousness was God's gift 
To her it seemed, 
As she lit a cigarette to 
Spite the rain 
And pressed it to my lips; 
my hands were spoken for
A look and a smile 
Was all I could muster as 
The deluge made quiet 
The victorious purr 
The old beast let out in relief
"Thanks" with a kiss to my cheek 
Was the moment I knew
She scurried off to slam the door 
Before I realized she was gone
I was gonna miss that jacket.


Poem Details | by Diane M Quinlan |
Categories: clothes, love,

Shade-trees, Clothes Pegs, Wet Clothes Outside,

love
Shade-trees ©

Hung branches show new leaf-bud coats
Spring rains draw forth their foliage 
Full leaved arches open spread above 
Summer lovers shade!

clothes
Pegged Wash ©

Clothes hang outside to dry clean
Their colours shout their glory
Sheets snap and shirts bloat outside
Pant legs dance and twist!

clothes
Wet Clothes ©

Strong fragrant breezes flow hotly 
And caress to dry wet cloth
Snapping all the pegged washing
Smelling of wash soap.

clothes
Closed Pegs

Clutching pegs on clothing lines
Hang washed cloth by their corners
Summer time blown breezes touch-dry
Birds void while perching!






Poem Details | by Cheyenne Nienhueser |
Categories: anger, best friend, betrayal, class, clothes, confusion, depression, desire, faith, forgiveness, future, growing up, hate, how i feel, life, lonely, longing,

Second Chance at love or just forget it

Can this only be the begining of love,
He was perfect in my eyes,
 before he wanted me to change,
whether it was my body or my looks,
 or even the style of my clothes,
 I was too young, 
to realize that he only wanted me 
for one thing
and one thing only,
 and that was to satisfy his lust for the flesh,
But i still loved him,
Even through the betrayal of finding him with a bestfriend,
Who was suppose to never betrayed me,
Even through sacred oatrhes declared since a young age.
 I did not need this misery in my life but i continued to love him,
Until one day I decided to give up on love itself.
I grown cold ,and so distant,
I did not socialize and I had become the outcast in Highschool.
No one wants to date a girl weho is cold remote and distant,
I am bound and determined to find the right lover in my life,
But  who can i ask advice for who is truely my friend 
and will not betray me 
the way my own bestfriend did!!


Poem Details | by Akilah Babb |
Categories: christian, christmas, gospel, jesus, joy, life, love,

OH SWADDLING CLOTHES

OH JESUS CAME IN SWADDLING CLOTHES
KING HEROD NOR 
THE REST OF HIS COULD'VE 
UNDERSTOOD OR COULD HAVE KNOWN 
THAT HE WAS GOING TO BE RISEN AGAIN 
FROM HELL'S DEATH SWORD
OH SWADDLING CLOTHES LITTLE DID WE KNOW 
THAT GOD WOULD SEND HIS SON JESUS 
TO SAVE HIS SINFUL WORLD
ACCORDING TO GLORY
WE RECEIVE HIS RICHES TODAY
THE RICHES OF THIS NEW BORN BABY
BORN THE VIRGINI MARY
OH NOT HAVING ON
A PAIR OF JORDANS 
BUT WRAP IN SWADDLING CLOTHES?


Poem Details | by Abdulhafeez Oyewole |
Categories: adventure, bird, children, clothes, desire, identity, life, light, love, marriage, wife,

I Just Found Out The Meaning

I just found out the meaning to my bachelorhood
Now, it's clear to me that those experiences I had earlier are lovelorn.
I've just found the reciprocal affection 
I have been struggling for all these years in courtship.

I just realize I have found the right woman for my unborn generations.
I've just found the true companion I can confide in at all time 
I found love at last in this angel who now means the world to me.
God! Thank you to have sent her to me on time,
And not until the beauties in her has faded like tainted rose.

My prayer now is that God shouldn't let me lose someone
Like her that would be very hard to replace.
And I as well pray not to find any course (at a later time) to regret or curse the day we met.
I've just found out she needs white roses; she is a virgin.


Poem Details | by Dawn Street |
Categories: christmas, christmas, christmas, clothes, love, time, new year,

Christmas Day

Christmas Day

What did I want that Christmas Day?
A package with a ribbon gay?
Clothes to wear?
Time to share?
Only one thing did I ask of thee.
Only one gift under my tree.
That gift, my love,
That gift was thee.

What did I get that Christmas Day?
A package with some ribbons gay.
New clothes to wear,
No time to share.
The one thing my heart desired.
The one thing that I required.
That gift, my love,
Thy love denied.

Another Christmas came and went
And with it my patience spent,
The clothes I packed,
The gifts I sacked.
The New Year found me far away,
 Never to spend a Christmas Day
With you, my love, 
No time to stay.

This Christmas shall be like the rest.
The gift that desired the best, 
Again denied.
Again withheld.
A husband’s love that went astray
Will ne’er return on a Christmas Day.
He is my love, 
Far, far away.


Poem Details | by David Welch |
Categories: imagination, lost love, love, mystery, passion, dance, old, halloween, clothes, dance, girl, old,

Romantic Serenade

It was the Halloween Ball
In the season of the fall
A mysterious bachelor called
To the attention of us all

The biggest mansion party
The cooks food is hearty
The host is definitely tardy
For most of his own party

The musicians play the last dance
The men try to romance
But don't stand a chance
For the host is here! They glance

To a man dressed in black wear
In Old Spanish attire bare
The women began to stare
For he was a young stallion, a Mare

From a top the stairs he walks
The ladies gather to stalk
The man who doesn't talk
Like birds they came in flocks

He wore black clothes and a red sash
White trim and a black mask
To find a dancer is his task
But who will he ask?

The only girl not drawn to attention
Is sitting alone no words to mention
He takes her hand There is no tention
Soft as a doves wings a cool sensation

The proceed to the middle of the floor
She doesn't know what's in store
A lot of musicians come in..there is more!
Some of them rich, some are poor

He takes his tunic off then starts
The music is written from the heart
The stand at attention far apart
Then the solo with the silver harp

The drum beat starts going 
They come together emotions flowing
His risque' dance he is showing
To her mind he is boasting

They move and dance like magic
For five minutes the song's romantic
The crowd watching in motionless static
The songs end was very tragic

The last beats were hard to miss
They drew close and started to kiss
For her it was a mystical bliss
His every movement caressed her lips

The awkward silence he starts to leave
The young lady can hardly breathe
She starts to faint...she can't see
The wings appeare and she falls asleep

The girl awakes in her bed it seems
In her school clothes it was only a dream
The sound of water foils the scene
Her eyes still blurry it's hard to see

She wanted this for real
Her heart is sealed
Then fate will have to deal
Her new loves appeal

She notices something on the ground
It's the wings and mask she found
And a CD blank is bound
She puts it in and the sound...

Is the unforgettable song
It was to her so long
But there was something wrong
Where did this come from?

In the CD case is an Old Engligh letter
It said "Undoubtedly for the better
I am gone with the weather
Your kiss I will always remember forever and ever


Poem Details | by lonely mabale |
Categories: beautiful, beauty, clothes, cool, dream, girl, love,

Her Name passed my mind

Smiling like a toothless baby
Spreading happiness in hearts.
Touch her hand as she agreed
And talk imaginary memory.
Blushing like a female cat outcrop.
Abrasion lags like women in urine labour
Smile glowing like a bulb in darkness
What a beautiful women.
It’s being long time.
I can’t believe your smile
Come on you make me feel shy
But do you know I fall for your style
You make me feel like sky.
That won’t be as long as you are queen
I think is because you like me
Are you not beautiful women?
What me; beautiful women
Come on look at you.
You are the hottest, 
Even the sun jealous.
If Sarah was alive,
Competition would have being high.
Wife is what your looks apply to hide.
Her attitude slaved my manhood.
I stood voiceless looking at her coffee craving face
Do you want my number? 
Thoughts, should I thank him.
Oh yes please.
Tapping phone screen,
As I steered at her pink nails.
Out of blue voice came.
What is my name?
My thoughts wrestled
John Cena flashed on my face
I reminisced for seconds
Voice trapping like disc in a sound
Breathe in and out 
In control< dear beauty I forgot
Ok you will see what to write
As she walk away
What a beautiful women


Poem Details | by Taina Rodriguez |
Categories: absence, beautiful, caregiving, clothes, first love, girlfriend, goodbye, grief, heart, heartbroken,

Off

A tear falls down my face
He looks at me and wipes it away
Grabs my hand 
And we begin to walk
The rain is falling
And the thunder burst
I feel so alone
Even tho he guides me along the way
His leather jacket covering me
Like it did every day
But today is not like it was before
the love I once felt doesn’t exist any more
The rain is cold and I begin to shake
The water covers my entire face
We see the end
Of the rode and us
But the rain continues
While I take the leather jacket off


Poem Details | by John Long |
Categories: depression, funny, life, lost love, love, people, political, sympathy, old, clothes, old,

FADED DRAPES

Faded Drapes
Cindy those old deceiving clothes which you 
claimed your mother insisted you wear were
nothing but a homeless person's clothing but
could have been faded drapes which might have
been improved with grape stains

You looked wonderful in newer clothes but more
specifically in the newer clothing which I picked
out for and gave to you but I was the observant one;
the one who was not only right for you but also right
about you

  Why you obediently wore those ugly drapes before
we met and toward the end of our rightful friendship
is beyond understanding which is equally true about
why you ran away and continue to evade me- if I ever
see you again it just might be in some old faded drapes


Poem Details | by YASEMIN BALANDI |
Categories: age, allegory, allusion, appreciation, clothes, flower, love,

THE VANISHING STAR

Languishing roses in her vase
Love is but an antiquated  sentiment 
As her youth has faded.
Fame is wasted on the famous.
This much she knows now.
The glitterThe razzle and dazzle
All made a vanishing act.
The ghost of her star remains.
She looks in the reflective glass
And finds a new line deeper than pain
In her forehead.
The stray greys shoot from her hair
In winding coils.
 
Once she took care of her greys
With a bottle of scarlet dye.
Not today.
Today, she takes a drag from her cigarette
And wears a long gown with faded roses
Once in crimson blooms.
Not even Jesus can restore her fading star.
So she resigns to her destiny
And relaxes back to her velvet chair
The only piece of furniture in her once grand
Now almost derelict mansion
That still provides comfort for her aching bones.
She closes her eyes and drifts into a deep sleep.
Sweet dreams of her youth flood her still.