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Sofia Rybkina Oct 2019
I first saw my grandma knitting when I was five. 
Wool yarn flowing through her fingers, 
As if it was a fairy tale by the brothers Grimm.
Magic was happening, giving birth to another 
sweater, or another scarf, or a dress I was probably going to wear. 

 I first saw a fashion magazine at the age of eight. 
It was full of clothes, full of bright, extravagant colours, 
I was amazed by this variety of art it kept inside,
a little girl facing her nature, her passion, her desire. 

 I was twelve when I first visited Germany &
realised that fashion had never been this far from people. 
Oaf boots and cerulean sweaters I was seeing everywhere
As a complete outsider, an offspring of another world. 

It was years after that I understood. 
Clothes are what we see & beauty is what we cherish,
But, if it is filth that you carry on the inside, 
It can never be covered by a little black dress.

Tipton Poetry Journal
July, 2019
Nigdaw Jul 2019
The cow wore this skin better than I,
A little baggy round the udder, maybe
But with a tail to keep off the flies.

I paid three hundred quid for a jacket;

With a smell that really attracts flies,
A little baggy round the shoulders, definitely
The cow wore this skin better than I.
A B Faniki Jul 2019
There once was a girl who was sad
she wear what is black so to hide
when summer is here the dress,
it calls heat that drenches
these cloth in summer will have her mad.
Limerick about summet cloth. 7/20/2019
DinoLoncar May 2019
You dress in the latest fashion,
looking for some matches,
lighting fire on them,
and lusting fortune's smile,
all lasting for a little while,
in the end,
a cloth of knowledge,
you mistook for the whole wardrobe of wisdom.
Mother God planted the seed of joy in me but I am still at war with what eternity entails,
sugar peaches kissed in sunless shades,
the fruits of heavens melt evermore,
cosmic outburst at the limit of human perception,
come, steal my fashion, besiege my immortality.
from death, alive,
the wedding between the good and evil gives birth to the death’s sublime beauty,
far from the depths of darkness,
in the huge void,
nobody can see, feel or perceive,
the truth and nature of the fragile consciousness,
a death alive will **** the spoiled allure of the world,
a touch of death over my eyes,
the gaze which brings sounds and rhythms after life,
death over beauty in the dark,
from void and blankness I rise,
the virtues of the infinite,
dimensions of time and lustful waters soak the mind,
I am the gate of irresistible hell,
passions and fashions of the dark,
the love from death was a temple of endless births,
inside my prowess, inner joy,
I put a spell over the time ending its life and continuity,
today time is finished and vanished from perception,
ending but never,
prolonged by a luring infinite.
Poem from my book 'The Allure Of Time', now available on amazon.
Jenny Gordon Mar 2019
Or?  Go figure.  



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXIII)


What? as night's blackness is passe in frail
Excuse, the hours now merely for good sense
Um, stacking up whiles I close down from hence
This slim machine for lack of aught else' tale,
And this where Twitter promised to avail
Itself of all my minutes--all's fr'intents
Too dead, dull, boring--I've moved on, pretense
Worn to a frazzle in aught that I'd hail.
Remember:  "I should write more--" to bestir
Me, yet ideas have flown off unto
Is't nether regions?  cuz I "watched in tour"
Who cares who?  Fashions.  "Follow her--what you
Should wear is...THIS."  I've MY own style, in poor
'Scuse, am ergo at odds with all, cool too?

25Mar19b
Sir Philip Sydney would fume at L4 since the rhyme slides into itself over and over.
Kathrine Pines Mar 2019
dress
them up or
dress them down
they are still them
and they will
always
be
b
     e
         a
      u
    t
i
   f
      u
          l
Steve Page Mar 2019
They were a common or garden,
run-of-the-mill variety
of right weird bleeders.
Individually, nothing I'd not seen before.
But oh boy, together -
it was like the circus had passed through and their apprentice scheme had got left behind.
Mind you,
you could see what they were attempting,
and give them a few years
I'm sure they would figure out a style
and colour scheme
that worked.
For now,
well like I say
- right weird bleeders.
The experiments of youth are a necessary phenomenon.  Great to be part of but difficult to observe.
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