"birkin" poems - Hello Poetry

It started with the wide-leg Giorgio Armani pants And it all went downhill from there. They were so chic, and might improve her stance, She could wear them to the market, hell, almost anywhere! When she put them in her shopping cart And continued to enter her credit card number, A shot went right through her fashion-hungry heart A jolt she still remembers! It was the feeling of a new era A new time in the lifespan of her wardrobe. She would become a Prada-shopper, a vintage Chanel-wearer No longer would she need to shuffle around her apartment in that awful bathrobe. She'd strut down the street, sporting her Carolina Herrera. A month later, a tingle slipped through her spine As she donned a lapis Michael Kors It was that sudden thought, "This dress is all mine!" "It's mine now, so it isn't yours!" From then on, it was her bank account that took the hardest hits Money trickled through her Valentino-studded hands, Down her Vera **** hips, Came running down in thin, green strands. Of course it all came falling apart when she saw the flawless Birkin bag, Sitting there in the Hermes shop window She knew it was the one thing she'd yet to snag! However, there was just one thing she didn't know. As she had the cashier ring it up, Dropping another ten-grand The cashier had her card snatched right up! For this, Madame Fashion couldn't stand. "Give it back!", she said, snapping her gold-dusted finger "But dear you're overdrawn," said the snappy lady. How she wanted to scream like soprano opera singer! It was then that things got real shady. In a lurch of madness, Madame jumped the counter! The other shoppers were struck into awe and fear. The cashier woman tried to stop her, But Madame had just barely escaped, finally in the clear! As she ran down fifth avenue, clutching her precious steal A horrible revelation took over this felon, She'd forgotten that she had wanted the purse in gorgeous teal! Instead she had gotten melon.

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Sep 23, 2011

Sep 23, 2011 at 3:55 AM UTC

john-david-morris-meriwether

Madame Fashion

It started with the wide-leg Giorgio Armani pants And it all went downhill from there. They were so chic, and might improve her stance, She could wear them to the market, hell, almost anywhere! When she put them in her shopping cart And continued to enter her credit card number, A shot went right through her fashion-hungry heart A jolt she still remembers! It was the feeling of a new era A new time in the lifespan of her wardrobe. She would become a Prada-shopper, a vintage Chanel-wearer No longer would she need to shuffle around her apartment in that awful bathrobe. She'd strut down the street, sporting her Carolina Herrera. A month later, a tingle slipped through her spine As she donned a lapis Michael Kors It was that sudden thought, "This dress is all mine!" "It's mine now, so it isn't yours!" From then on, it was her bank account that took the hardest hits Money trickled through her Valentino-studded hands, Down her Vera **** hips, Came running down in thin, green strands. Of course it all came falling apart when she saw the flawless Birkin bag, Sitting there in the Hermes shop window She knew it was the one thing she'd yet to snag! However, there was just one thing she didn't know. As she had the cashier ring it up, Dropping another ten-grand The cashier had her card snatched right up! For this, Madame Fashion couldn't stand. "Give it back!", she said, snapping her gold-dusted finger "But dear you're overdrawn," said the snappy lady. How she wanted to scream like soprano opera singer! It was then that things got real shady. In a lurch of madness, Madame jumped the counter! The other shoppers were struck into awe and fear. The cashier woman tried to stop her, But Madame had just barely escaped, finally in the clear! As she ran down fifth avenue, clutching her precious steal A horrible revelation took over this felon, She'd forgotten that she had wanted the purse in gorgeous teal! Instead she had gotten melon.

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Jeg tager bøgerne ud af reolen og bladrer manisk siderne igennem For at finde en sætning Eller blot et ord Dedikeret til os Finde sammenlignelige, naive digtere for at prøve at bevise At der i andre tider levede nogle som os Gående op og ned ad de samme gader Med fingrene flettede på præcis samme måde Nogle som os med delt spyt, som vugges med hovedet hvilende på den andens bryst og dette blik, dette hjem vi har skabt i hinanden Men ikke det mest sortklædte firserpar, der skiftes til at tage et sug af deres delte Gauloises Ikke Strunge’s bankende brystlomme, nej, ikke engang Gainsbourg og Birkin, ikke Tafdrup eller Thomsen, ingen, nej, nej vi må være guder i al vores almindelighed, guder der køber cola i kiosken, guder når du skyller sveden af mig, vi må være engle når du ligger med dit hoved så fredeligt på puden, dine øjenvipper der ligner fjer og dit rytmiske åndedrag Vi må være søskende, skilt ad ved fødslen Skulle vi ikke skamme os, for alt det blod vi har delt Skulle det ikke være forbudt, ulykkeligt Skulle vi ikke love hinanden At lukke øjnene til hver en tid Skærme os fra solen

0

Nov 29, 2016

Nov 29, 2016 at 8:04 AM UTC

Ishauldall

Vores første afsked skete ved fødslen og vi brugte resten af tiden på at finde hinanden igen

Jeg tager bøgerne ud af reolen og bladrer manisk siderne igennem For at finde en sætning Eller blot et ord Dedikeret til os Finde sammenlignelige, naive digtere for at prøve at bevise At der i andre tider levede nogle som os Gående op og ned ad de samme gader Med fingrene flettede på præcis samme måde Nogle som os med delt spyt, som vugges med hovedet hvilende på den andens bryst og dette blik, dette hjem vi har skabt i hinanden Men ikke det mest sortklædte firserpar, der skiftes til at tage et sug af deres delte Gauloises Ikke Strunge’s bankende brystlomme, nej, ikke engang Gainsbourg og Birkin, ikke Tafdrup eller Thomsen, ingen, nej, nej vi må være guder i al vores almindelighed, guder der køber cola i kiosken, guder når du skyller sveden af mig, vi må være engle når du ligger med dit hoved så fredeligt på puden, dine øjenvipper der ligner fjer og dit rytmiske åndedrag Vi må være søskende, skilt ad ved fødslen Skulle vi ikke skamme os, for alt det blod vi har delt Skulle det ikke være forbudt, ulykkeligt Skulle vi ikke love hinanden At lukke øjnene til hver en tid Skærme os fra solen

17

I may have missed out on life's little things, like winning an Oscar, a Grammy. I sure have gained life's big things, like being the best in the school play and singing in the choir. I never got the Nobel Prize ever, So I settled for the big prizes instead. Hugs from my friends and that look from my crush. Somehow never desired little things money could buy - a Birkin or a Ferrari. But cherished the big things money could never buy, **the bag mum knit and the high of riding on dad's shoulders.** I miss those days when games meant, Hide and Seek, I spy, Blind man's buff, Cops and Robbers. Games were not downloaded then. I miss the times when trips meant camping in the backyard. Those days days when the tooth fairy and Santa did visit me. I would love to have one more day to live that carefree life again...

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Sep 26, 2014

Sep 26, 2014 at 12:06 PM UTC

dreamer

One More Day [for Joe Cole]

I may have missed out on life's little things, like winning an Oscar, a Grammy. I sure have gained life's big things, like being the best in the school play and singing in the choir. I never got the Nobel Prize ever, So I settled for the big prizes instead. Hugs from my friends and that look from my crush. Somehow never desired little things money could buy - a Birkin or a Ferrari. But cherished the big things money could never buy, **the bag mum knit and the high of riding on dad's shoulders.** I miss those days when games meant, Hide and Seek, I spy, Blind man's buff, Cops and Robbers. Games were not downloaded then. I miss the times when trips meant camping in the backyard. Those days days when the tooth fairy and Santa did visit me. I would love to have one more day to live that carefree life again...

24

A night united together For the very first time Around the amish time Inside this French Bistro Surrounded by the glamorous duo Gainsbourg & Birkin Wrapping up the ambiant air French musical undertones Deep green velvets hues Ilona, the Host of the Soirée Walking as if she is dancing With her irrepressible bubbliness Serving us drinks & oysters ... Zee oysters ... Taking their last breaths In the fading ice Indulging the no-teeth treatment Is it a tragedy? I dunno...I guess we will never know Two Hirondelles lost in time The time flying by We are now the last guests of the Soirée The clock ticking by Its time to leave this place And those two Rock Stars We are leaving behind I knew you were trouble from the very first time But ahhhhh, so refreshing, so alike... A night united together For the very first time

0

May 2, 2019

May 2, 2019 at 2:38 AM UTC

leenyka

Anut.

A night united together For the very first time Around the amish time Inside this French Bistro Surrounded by the glamorous duo Gainsbourg & Birkin Wrapping up the ambiant air French musical undertones Deep green velvets hues Ilona, the Host of the Soirée Walking as if she is dancing With her irrepressible bubbliness Serving us drinks & oysters ... Zee oysters ... Taking their last breaths In the fading ice Indulging the no-teeth treatment Is it a tragedy? I dunno...I guess we will never know Two Hirondelles lost in time The time flying by We are now the last guests of the Soirée The clock ticking by Its time to leave this place And those two Rock Stars We are leaving behind I knew you were trouble from the very first time But ahhhhh, so refreshing, so alike... A night united together For the very first time

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