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Robin Carretti Jul 2018
This is not, a time to loosen up
Or nine to five job to give up
Just saddle up the power is in you
Five ladies cafe to dine at five and
drove_* the meter is running
(The Canadian Cup) team versus the
     Taxi Cup
He swooned you in your
Five dreamy but half heart sugars
Come on Baby bloomers
Let's see some boom!!

In your hips men will be men taking
frequent flyer trips temptation 1 2345
We need fewer digs one love teo reasons
World  345  heart flags
We don't have to cross our hearts
Perhaps tattoo heart legs no more strikes
Jumping Jack flash
What a rope in this isn't the Pope

Somehow we all get broke
To court her like your the lasso
stars cosmos hearts like Lassie
Never a change of subject how it
remains in your heart how it hit hard
to react but changed to five cards
Digging too long  lucky 777 like heaven
Heart digs

1-where?
Oh! There

No, I am here
We are always  
In-between
numbers_ I only
have 5 minutes
No I phone have a heart
Oh! where is designed for me
Those five plates

Whats in between them
      *Him

We are opening Live- Five
Strong heart to give the caring
The useful heart is never so daring
My gate* Girls are nail digging
Hugging

Or losing add +

Flirty
*****
Our community
Heftier like Jupiter
Heart to build
the gravity
A big kiss hunch
of five roses

Your getting to bloom
but only have
5 extra movie parts
The front dress mermaid tail
Your heart delicate hands
opened up your emails
I think you hit the
Jackpot

Max to the million shot
No heart of gold
Only more leaders
Scrambling and digging
your fork
Mixing those egg beaters

Five men think they know
there women
like ten
commandments
Turn to five wrong
engagements
There it goes the lucky
five arguments

A plot beating
like a hot-shot
The French Baguette
Bread 9 to 5 firecracker
Five-carat baguette
wedding band in her safe
Heart digs to five hands
Heart neck guilty as a giraffe

The cafe house had only
5 cups left  they sold you out
Only Five Bed and breakfast
stayers
Do detailed with their Ladyfingers
But need more alone time
Be on time get sweet key lime
What is real-time so sublime

That rose- paper cut- origami
Sorcerer of five he was like the
cold cuts of big Sub Salami
Japanese sword samurai
What a Geronimo Oh! no
Jericho
This wasn't a hot potato

Or Gizmo No-Go
Getting a shot for Polio
The gusto songs to the heart play
Maestro the Cosmo's
The five stars to heart his
afterglow
Like a titanic ship but heroics

Five lunatics wedding horns ******
Five two timer Mario gamers
so demonic
DOMINO'S bed five students wed
We dug deeper get-up sleepy-head
Exposed cries location set
Network U- dig cups

Something lip curved
He misplaced my lips
What did he do in exchange
More stocks and hard stone rocks
Like frying pan egg
scrambled words

Crossed heart Rapper so believing
The Fox five sticking tacky glue
His CD Rose lying pants no clue
Painful pointed shoes need R&R
     Robin's *Responsibilities
       The Heart On Replay
The deeper you dig to restart

The healthy organically grown brain
Men on Pause I truly believe nature
takes its course
but another beat to go is that so?
And if so heart digs to five
Feel the good vibe in another tribe
Five times I had to wake you up
I am the love cure reminiscing

Giving me five reasons
Our beautiful change of
heart in season

Studying the fine art heart
Referencing
Never refusing thats life
five-step to strive nothing
Fancy

Robin shoutbox she getting
her point across
Either you're the worker or loner
The heart pleaser the boss
Your heart looks good
on your dress
Whether we win or deep mess
The good heart can change to
a bad start

Recharge your heart count to five
Venus- beauty moved on like a
pathologist digging over staying alive
The hearts what digs this is not the 9-5 workers we are talkers
and long settling in heart walkers come any join me we may actually be alive did I get a live one
Daisy Jun 2016
A delicious little bakery
is only down our street
the smell of baking bread
well.. it really is a treat

It is run by Mrs ******
she is just so very charming
but she is a little clumsy
it's really quite alarming

You see,
she does her best to make the cakes
and bake such tasty bread
but the currants just go everywhere
and in the pies instead

And in the Cornish pasties
there is very often nuts
and in the fruit pie filling
bacon and beef cuts

But she seems to be quite fancy
well there has been many rumours
of her and the deliveryman
well... she flashes him her bloomers

But she really is so charming
poor soul.. she has the worst mishaps
like when she inadvertently
displayed her finest baps

And no one will forget
when in came a group of nuns
all asking some tea cakes
but out popped her Chelsea buns

But she really is a riot
you can't help but love her so
she give you all you ask for
in a bargain box 'to go'

And she takes care of her customers
and gives out treats to sample
you'll never go home hungry
you'll end up with quite a armful

So if you get a moment
take a stroll just down our street
to Mrs ******'s bakery
she really is a treat.
This needs some work lol thought of this last night on the way home while passing a bakery with a beautifully voluptuous lady serving and laughing with her customers. She is always such a lovely happy lady :o)
judy smith Jul 2016
Valentino has its red, Versace its Medusa logo, Chanel the tweed that lines dresses and jackets and handbags each season. In the fashion world, these nuances of texture and color, in conjunction with shape, are what help define a brand's identity, what ultimately makes them feel familiar to consumers; they are fashion's version of DNA. Designers carving out their place within the industry will often land on their own set of signatures that are built upon with each new collection—but Patric DiCaprio, the 26-year-old designer of Vaquera, isn't interested in "buy-ability" or recognizable traits. "We are obsessed with keeping people guessing" he says. "We want that to be our thing."

In the three seasons since launching the New York-based brand, DiCaprio has infused Fashion Week with the sort of Dionysian energy once felt at early John Galliano shows. For his Summer/Spring 2016 show, staged at the Church of the Ascension in Greenwich Village, models walked the aisle to the Smashing Pumpkins in baptismal baby-doll dresses and ruffled bloomers, with DiCaprio's boyfriend closing the show in a wedding gown. In February, with new partners David Moses and Bryn Taubensee on board, a debaucherous cast of models dressed in Victorian-meets-club looks danced, lifted their skirts and put their cigarettes out in audience member's drinks at the China Chalet venue in the Financial District.

"Vaquera is about constant reinvention," DiCaprio says of his no-guts-no-glory ethos. "It's about the future; the future of style and clothes, but not in the cliche of futuristic spandex and metallics."

Much like his collections, the designer's path in fashion has been far from linear. Born and raised in Alabama, DiCaprio attended a private Christian school before studying photography at a public university in the South. An internship with DIS Magazine offered him a crash course in art direction and styling, and the opportunity to draw creative fuel from New York—a city that has very much proven to be his creative elixir.

"I felt like I had been underwhelmed for my whole life," says DiCaprio, who moved to the city five years ago and taught himself to sew through YouTube tutorials. "When I first came to New York it felt like I had finally gotten my head above the water and had oxygen for the first time. This place was overwhelming in the best way." DiCaprio spoke with PAPER about his creative approach, his unconventional path to fashion and his idolization of David Bowie.

What sparked your interest in fashion?

I think it's always been about clothes for me. When I was in middle school and high school I was always in bands. I was obsessed with Screamo and David Bowie—the groups that had such strong visual aspects to their work. But I think part of me always felt like I was doing that so I could assume the look. Screamo bands would let me wear the size zero, ultra-stretch white jean. With David Bowie, I wanted to wear the gold eyeshadow; it was always about the look.

How did studying photography lead you to fashion design?

My school was very focused on the craft—the dark room and perfect exposure—but I think I was on the opposite end, I was interested in what was happening in the photo. I left college to do an internship with DIS Magazine and because they're involved in so many creative avenues like photography and styling and art and video, I was able to get a realistic vision of things. The experience [with DIS] made me realize I was less interested in photography and more interested in creating these characters.

When school ended, I moved to New York and and worked with DIS again and then with VFiles in [the archives department]. I'd go through old issues of ID and Paper and Dazed and it taught me a lot about fashion history. I had been removed from all of that when I was growing up, there was no Chanel store in Alabama, there was no Dazed And Confused at the Barnes and Noble in Alabama. Coming to New York I was able to get my hands on the clothes and study these old magazines.

How did you get that initial internship though?

I'm obsessed with Tumblr. I got on it more than eight years ago, and it was a huge part of helping me reach out to people. People that I'm still friends with now—Hari Nef and Juliana Huxtable—I met through Tumblr; they moved to New York before me and motivated me to do the same. So I emailed the team at DIS, and asked if I could show them my photography portfolio—which sounds so funny to say now—and they offered to show me the ropes. They hooked me up with Avena Gallagher, who is an inspiration and has taught me everything I know about styling.

About two years ago I started working for her and became obsessed with styling. I styled Charli XCX for a year—and it was exciting, definitely closer to what I wanted to do but it wasn't exactly it. I wanted to pull specific things—1980's Issey Miyake, but there was no way a no-name stylist like me would be able to get my hands on it. So I bought a sewing machine and started sewing the things I wanted for photo shoots. Vaquera started as an art project that wasn't about wearing the clothes or making something for Opening Ceremony—it was about making clothes that I could then shoot. The final product was the look book.

What made you decide on the name Vaquera?

A few different reasons. I was reading a book by Tom Robbins called Even Cowgirls Get The Blues and it was really informative for me at the time. I was also working in a kitchen as an expediter with a bunch of Mexican line cooks and they had a lot of pet names for me, like "el pato" which is gay slang for f—got, and "little baby doll." They knew I was from the South so they'd call me "La Vaquera" because that's Spanish for cowgirl—even though cowgirls aren't Alabama, it's more of a Texas thing. So I just called the project Vaquera. It seems so arbitrary now, I'm stuck with it for better or worse.

What's been one of the challenges of keeping things future-focused?

I've had criticism from people that it's such a bad business model to reinvent yourself each season, that no one's going to know what to expect from you. Buyers are going to be confused, you're never going to make any money. And I've just been like, "Well, I think we don't have any interest in that." We are obsessed with keeping people guessing—we want that to be our thing. I try my best to keep it a secret until the day of the show and then just let loose.

So we're going to assume you won't be giving any clues about next season's show.

Oh my god, i don't want to give it away! I think people want to see billowy-sleeves but that's out the door. We're doing something completely different. Romantic but a whole different definition of romance.

How has working with David and Bryne changed things for you and the brand?

Last season it was like a whole new brand. We came together through Avena and it feels like we're progressing, which is exciting. I got sick of doing everything alone. For the Spring show I sewed everything, produced it myself, got the location, cast it myself.

And did you collapse after the show ended?

It was a serious problem, it became impossible. I realized I was either going to have to plateau so I could get my life together or I was going to have to find a way to expand the vision. I trust Bryne and David with my life and they understand my vision but have their own ideas. It was a necessary change.

So many designers have expressed concern about the relentless pace of the industry recently.

All these different seasons—pre-fall, couture, designers showing things that are going to be available for purchase the day after the show. That's so scary for people like us who are on our hands and knees in the living room cutting the clothes and can barely get them made in time for the show.

Do you want to stay independent? What are the benefits and detriments, in your opinion?

I think we want to stay independent. I want to make money but I don't want to feel pressure to do certain things. I'm already so sick of that show we just did—already on to the next one. It's like with Demna Gvasalia getting the Balenciaga job: I was so disappointed to see him doing the same thing he did at Vetements at Balenciaga, but then I realized, with all the money that's involved and when you're working with these huge offers, there's contracts. Money complicates things in a way that I think can hurt people's creativity. Maybe you'll make a lot of money for a few years, but you might forget how to make exciting things because you're stuck with the designs that worked well one time. I want to make money, but we want to find different ways of doing it.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-melbourne | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-adelaide
Julie Grenness Dec 2016
I wash your clothes anyway,
A poet must have her say,
I've got the giggles again,
I'm on my own thought train,
Your bloomers are on the moon,
"Thank you' should be your tune......
Feedback welcome.
Collette Abatta Oct 2011
--Hand serenity manually entered
The automatic response system
Alerts red light blind blinking
Her excited isotopes fly, entropy askew
The 'A' stands for ready, willing and Able-bodied
Feather boa leather boy and scarlet adultery
Tucked neatly in the back of her dresser
Under bloomers and pictures of young baby boomers
--A civil masterpiece--
"I would love to," she says with a careless car crash
And a shaking ****** serial slave smile
Blowtorch full of propane and limp-action lidocaine
She cuts chronic through a slice of Hollywood layer cake
--Serves it skintight
Marcus Well Mar 2018
(think Mexican Hat Dance:)

How tall? How tall? How tall?
Will Donald Trump build the wall?
The wall! The wall! The wall!
Will Mexico pay for it at all?
How high? How high? How high?
How high will they have to jump
To clear the wall and prove to us all
That they’ve pacified Donald Trump
(bump, bump)
To clear the wall and prove to us all
That they’ve pacified Donald Trump?

When you’re talking about immigration,
Whether merit based or chain migration,
According to Trump proclamation,
“Illegals, jump over the wall”!!
(NOT AT ALL!!)

How tall? How tall? How tall?
Can Donald Trump build the wall
When not a single Democrat
Is willing to fund it at all?
How long? How long? How long?
How long do we have to wait
To end this shutdown?
When they sit their butts down
To end this gridlock stalemate!!
Consider the workers who are not getting paid;
That is the part we most hate!!

To achieve our homeland protection,
Not just winning the 2020 election,
The Pelosi and Schumer connection
Should grant funding to give Trump OUR wall!!
Give Pelosi and Schumer
A kick in the bloomers
If they continue to stall!!

Written 1/15/19 by Marcus Well
(day 25 of the US Government Partial Shutdown)

(Who the hell is Marcus Well?  Those that know, please don’t tell)
To live to love to die
To be two in tow
A pair to die as one
I love my life like towing flower
In bloom in life in death
In my vicinity there is
A garden  so green
Monsoons
Winters and
Summers
All do agree

A walking track
Joggers track
Yoga corner
A gymming area along the track
Everyone seems to be enjoying

Early morning enthusiasts
and
Late bloomers all love the place

A  poetry recital Corner
An occasional artist
Capturing the beauty of the place

Conversations of the Elderly
Reliving memories from
Back in the day

The children in the play area
Going Merry-go-round
And sliding , happy and gay

With
A canopy of trees
Sheltering the track

Come Summers
The trees bearing  flowers in bloom
Purple orange pink
And
Most special of All
A yellow so Mellow
(Indian Laburnum)
Leaving no trace of green
Cascading in delicate blooms

With
A granite  seat placed
Beneath
A feeling so divine
A favourite of mine !!
Sitting quietly under a tree
Brings immense peace and tranquility.
I call mine , 'The Bodhi Tree'
Corset Jun 2015
I will not assume,
will not assimilate,
will not conquer
nor be sad or desolate,
instead,
I will bloom unto myself
a bud of awakening,
for only myself,
I will play soft music
with tinkling bells
in the midst of fields
jazz filled flowers
if you would come,
come gently...
like the light
of a dawning rose,
if you should stay
sit here beside me,
call me friend
and visit often.
Damaré M Aug 2013
Do you have to get high to feel more fly? 
Soft *** stoner 
I'm more blunt when I'm sober 
Excuse me to the real dudes who use ****
I know how it be 
But if you only smoke because it's trendy 
Right now your life is pending 
Because you not downloaded 
You buffering 
Losing connection 
I can't respect it 
Your life isn't hectic 
You had to use other folks addresses 
Just to get public school lessons 
Never got a suspension 
Detention because you wasn't paying attention 
You wasn't throwing pencils 
Or raising up dresses 
Or erasing the "warm up" messages
Or guessing during benchmark testing 
Word I heard you was a nerd 
And that's cool
But don't have tape in between 'yo glasses then grow up to gain bad habits 
That's backwards 
Thought life was all about progress 
You have a background which is flawless 
But for acceptance 
You start making exceptions 
I do it for the breathless 
And of my God I don't question 
Exclamation 
To all perpetuation 
But hesitation 
I don't condone perpetration 
Why dissemble on some **** that isn't providential?
Everyone who practically had no choice now want a way out 
Little *** kids you didn't even weigh in 
How did you find your way in? 
That's from real men being pliant
For all you cats who trying 
Stop 'yo lying 
When I'm around Amateurs come in silence 
Like what's a scavenger to a lion? 
About time for all of you late bloomers to become compliant
Sally A Bayan Oct 2015
Carpe Diem (2)        
  


It is a hot day....but, we're having a brief shower
i sniff the earthy scent carried by the afternoon breeze,  
feel it blowing, brushing against my moist skin,
i spot a beetle wandering away from its home,
the Pine tree...it travels... oh...so...slowly...inching
...reaching at last...the...window...sill...


Amongst the leaves of the tall Fortune tree
daddy long legs appears......its fragile body quivers,
as it dangles...going down from its web
to meet its neighbor and beetle friend,
.....and from the window ledge
the two fall down on the bushy flower bed,
like a dual suicide act.  
quickly, they vanish... into the thick
of bloomers, yellow, white and pink


The rolling hills landscape on the horizon
breathes peace and calm at this very moment
the valleys...streets......the church and houses
people from all walks of life, going through their chores,
they suddenly enfold my whole being...
there is  pulchritude in the faces of the women,
slim, strong, bulky...hips, bouncing, swaying rhythmically...
fair-skinned and dark, short...long haired...all are smiling warmly,
like they have no other cares in this world
signs of fortitude on their faces...obvious, but unuttered.

i, too, feel a lilt deep inside..i beam with a smile,
acknowledging theirs, as they walk past me.
enjoying every bit of  God's miracles
that meets my eyes

...a few lines pop in my mind...they become a story...or a ditty
suddenly, words in a joke...from someone who's witty
comes sweet laughter...during moments untethered
hours of heeeeeee, and ha-ha-ha, and shared giggles...

Anything that comes to sight
comes with a smile, so bright
i squint from its brilliance
i bask in its radiance
i refuse to let go of this glowing,
an unknown  inner feeling,
outside, it is revealing,
my soul, it is embracing

i claim it:
this moment of bliss
i have finally seized!


  

Sally

Copyright September 21, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
cheryl love Nov 2015
Out he shot like a screaming hyena, the Pig’s wig to the side
His trotters were performing a jig, he wasn’t quite sure.
Usually he leaves the house so full of respect and pride
And was particular about anything he touched or indeed wore.

“The Duck’s gone” he yelled to nobody that was about
“My friend has up and left me” sobbing out for all he was worth
“Does nobody care, can anyone hear me if I shout”.
“Talk to me, it doesn’t cost the Earth”

By now the Pig had got his bloomers in a twist
Started searching all the cupboards he could find.
Seeking out the little places he had inadvertently missed.
Looking in all the secret hideouts a Duck would hide.

The Pig sat in a corner and waited for the duck to come back.
He waited a couple of days and he was wondering whether he was dead.
He something outside, he thought it was a quack.
In slid a skinny leg and a webbed foot as brown as wholemeal bread.

In slid a suitcase with stickers “I was here” on from a seaside resort.
In came an enormous stuffed donkey toy with “Made in Spain” on it.
The little devil has been abroad without me, he thought
He has got the nerve I have to admit.

He was getting crosser and crosser by the minute
He was a nice shade of violet and blue.
The blood in his veins putting pressure on his three piece suit
In fact he was getting himself wound up and in a stew.

“Where exactly do you think you have been” enquired the blue blob
“Oh I have been to Majorca for the week, told you when I booked”.
By now he’d heard enough and his head had started to throb.
The Duck had squeezed in his saucepan cupboard and never looked.

The Pig was still chattering on firing the same old question
The Duck was stuffing himself silly with Spanish sweets
Devouring one after the other in no order or hesitation
Never before had he had such nice treats.

The pig finally tapped on the door of the cupboard and spoke
The Duck could not answer owing to too much food being in his beak.
The Pig was under the impression he was copying a bloke
When the Duck let out a gigantic squeak.

A line of ants were frog marching a leaf around his leg
He froze like a solid lump of ice on a hot day.
His legs were shaking like they were scrambled egg
And his mind had gone into panic and was far away.

The Pig the protective one, at once became a superhero role
The door between them came down with a crash
To the annoyance of the Duck who had his head in a pudding bowl
Promptly hid the bowl and sweets in a flash.

“How dare you interrupt me” shouted he with a frown.
His legs were twitching from the ants which were bothering him
The Duck got up off the floor and proceeded to jump up and down,
The Pig thought his actions were foolish and pretty grim.

One week later the Duck reluctantly emerged from the cupboard
And began to prepare something for friend to eat.
He ransacked the shelves like old Mother Hubbard
Rescuing some tins of something or other which were now obsolete.

Which was fine by the Pig, he ate anything he could get his trotters on
He was just pleased to be reunited with his dear old friend.
He dined until whatever the meal was called was gone
He did not enjoy the slop and once more had to pretend.
David Nelson Aug 2011
Nursree-Rhymed-Rap

you got yer Jack be nimble
you got yer Jack be quick
you got yer Jack jumpin over a candle stick
he jumped so high
he almost touched the sky
you see he burnt his nads
and it made him cry

you got yer 3 little pigs
you got yer Goldilocks
you got yer big bad wolf dumber than a fox
he huffed and puffed
and took a big hit
and they all joined hands
they were smokin some ****

you got yer Little Red
you got yer 3 brown bears
sippin on soup and sittin in chairs
Red danced on the table
yeah she danced really good
the bears gave her money
to see what was under the hood

you got yer Jack and Jill
you got yer buckle my shoe
climbin that hill what they gonna do
Jack played pattycake
according to rumours
trying to get inside
of little Jill's bloomers

you got yer Little Miss Muffet
you got yer itsy bitsy spider
he made a big mistake sitting down beside her
inside her purse
she kept a can of Raid
she drenched his ****
and now he's daid

you got yer hey ****** ******
you got yer dish and spoon
you got yer old spotted cow jumpin over the moon
there's Humpty Dumpty
and the fiddling cat
the little dog laughed
to see Jack Sprat splat  

you got yer round the rosey
you got yer ba black sheep
pullin the wool over yer eyes as you sleep
****** ****** dumplin
so what is my point
whoever wrote these riddles
musta been smokin a joint

Gomer LePoet ....
Silk, satin, velvet and lace
Bloomers aghast from raunchy strutting
Down the streets of London
1840
Men would drink arsenic
To be under your thrall
Asphyxiating themselves to be with you
The Colonels daughter
Out at night
Footsteps like raindrops you ditched your pantyhose
For delicious drips on your toes
Your fangs catching the light of the lunar eclipse on full
The hunt is on
MJL Mar 2019
So slow
Upright, uptight and downright
Ignor-ante up
Evo n' emo blue bloomers
Sporting brainy flip-flops
Airing stinky feet
Artistically inclined and woefully blindy-blind
Cats hunting with dogs
C'razy
For salvation and fresh red MEAT
Unhappy, unsatisfied and under the weather
Raining fiery wisdoms 
- Crumb Fighters United -
Get up and do it again Cave Girl
Young and Bad
You’ll feel better
At anothers expense
Tomorrow
We're human. Watching humans... Evolution. Please.
cheryl love Jul 2014
Out he shot like a screaming hyena, the Pig’s wig to the side
His trotters were performing a jig, he wasn’t quite sure.
Usually he leaves the house so full of respect and pride
And was particular about anything he touched or indeed wore.

“The Duck’s gone” he yelled to nobody that was about
“My friend has up and left me” sobbing out for all he was worth
“Does nobody care, can anyone hear me if I shout”.
“Talk to me, it doesn’t cost the Earth”

By now the Pig had got his bloomers in a twist
Started searching all the cupboards he could find.
Seeking out the little places he had inadvertently missed.
Looking in all the secret hideouts a Duck would hide.

The Pig sat in a corner and waited for the duck to come back.
He waited a couple of days and he was wondering whether he was dead.
He something outside, he thought it was a quack.
In slid a skinny leg and a webbed foot as brown as wholemeal bread.

In slid a suitcase with stickers “I was here” on from a seaside resort.
In came an enormous stuffed donkey toy with “Made in Spain” on it.
The little devil has been abroad without me, he thought
He has got the nerve I have to admit.

He was getting crosser and crosser by the minute
He was a nice shade of violet and blue.
The blood in his veins putting pressure on his three piece suit
In fact he was getting himself wound up and in a stew.

“Where exactly do you think you have been” enquired the blue blob
“Oh I have been to Majorca for the week, told you when I booked”.
By now he’d heard enough and his head had started to throb.
The Duck had squeezed in his saucepan cupboard and never looked.

The Pig was still chattering on firing the same old question
The Duck was stuffing himself silly with Spanish sweets
Devouring one after the other in no order or hesitation
Never before had he had such nice treats.

ThePig finally tapped on the door of the cupboard and spoke
The Duck could not answer owing to too much food being in his beak.
The Pig was under the impression he was copying a bloke
When the Duck let out a gigantic squeak.

A line of ants were frog marching a leaf around his leg
He froze like a solid lump of ice o a hot day.
His legs were shaking like they were scrambled egg
And his mind had gone into panic and was far away.

The Pig the protective one, at once became a superhero role
The door between them came down with a crash
To the annoyance of the Duck who had his head in a pudding bowl
Promptly hid the bowl and sweets in a flash.

“How dare you interrupt me” shouted he with a frown.
His legs were twitching from the ants which were bothering him
The Duck got up off the floor and proceeded to jump up and down,
The Pig thought his actions were foolish and pretty grim.

One week later the Duck reluctantly emerged from the cupboard
And began to prepare something for friend to eat.
He ransacked the shelves like old Mother Hubbard
Rescuing some tins of something or other which were now obsolete.

Which was fine by the Pig, he ate anything he could get his trotters on
He was just pleased to be reunited with his dear old friend.
He dined until what=ever the meal was called was gone
He did not enjoy the slop and once more had to pretend.
a mcvicar Dec 2017
i imagine me writing
as i imagine a gardener who plants seeds but does not know if they will become
the most beautiful flower
or the prickiest of herbs
29.12.17  /  16.03  /  reflection on how i never know if my poems will sound nice out of my head
David Nelson Mar 2013
Nursree-Rhymed-Rap

you got yer Jack be nimble
you got yer Jack be quick
you got yer Jack jumpin over a candle stick
he jumped so high
he almost touched the sky
you see he burnt his nads
and it made him cry

you got yer 3 little pigs
you got yer Goldilocks
you got yer big bad wolf dumber than a fox
he huffed and puffed
and took a big hit
and they all joined hands
they were smokin some ****

you got yer Little Red
you got yer 3 brown bears
sippin on soup and sittin in chairs
Red danced on the table
yeah she danced really good
the bears gave her money
to see what was under the hood

you got yer Jack and Jill
you got yer buckle my shoe
climbin that hill what they gonna do
Jack played pattycake
according to rumours
trying to get inside
of little Jill's bloomers

you got yer Little Miss Muffet
you got yer itsy bitsy spider
he made a big mistake sitting down beside her
inside her purse
she kept a can of Raid
she drenched his ****
and now he's daid

you got yer hey ****** ******
you got yer dish and spoon
you got yer old spotted cow jumpin over the moon
there's Humpty Dumpty
and the fiddling cat
the little dog laughed
to see Jack Sprat splat  

you got yer round the rosey
you got yer ba black sheep
pullin the wool over yer eyes as you sleep
****** ****** dumplin
so what is my point
whoever wrote these riddles
musta been smokin a joint

Gomer LePoet ....
these aren't your mama's Nursery Rhymes. :)
Jodie LindaMae Nov 2014
Three little kittens
Lost their mittens
But I'm the only one
Hanging high and dry,
Run up a flag pole
For those I despise
To see my bloomers.

People are going to walk away from you
And some are going to run,
But you will always be able to measure your worth
In the amount of steps it takes them
To leave you.
Emet Ezer Oct 29
Remember, remember to vote by the fifth of November,
to stop the Socialist’s treasonous plot.
I see far too many reasons,
why the Socialist’s treason,
must be completely stopped.
There truly is a lot.

Everyone should be stunned,
but the world is numb,
and twiddles its thumbs,
as nations completely rot.

With their totalitarian hearts filled with hate,
the corrupt Socialists, ‘tis their intent,
to destroy the United States of America.

The Socialist horse has already been brought in the gate,
but it may not be too late.
We can still win,
if we capture the Socialist soldiers that came from within.
They are notorious for projecting the illusion that Republicans are an intrusion,
keeping us all busy fighting each other,
while they dig under our nation's foundation.
They wait for the Republic to collapse into chaos and destitution,
so they can execute their final solution.

They live by the saying “laws are for thee but not for me”.
They love to disguise socialism as democracy,
and Republicans as a threat to thee.
What they really mean is they are a threat to their hypocrisy.
They gaslight our nation into sedation,
wear us down to control our towns.

They wish for the sacrifices of our national heroes to have been in vain,
as they attempt to flush our Constitution down the drain.
Many are fooled under their guise of safety,
should they give up their liberty hastily.

They have damaged alliances and stoked the fires of war.
They tax our retirees while rewarding our enemies.
They have intentionally hindered military aid to our Israeli confederates.
They have failed many of our military veterans,
that have come on their knees with broken psyches,
while continuing to feed our enemies.

In the meanwhile they drained our petroleum stockpile to provide for the vile.
They wasted our nation’s FEMA funds on the illegal ones.
They print more Bens to implement short term mends.
Their heavy inflation is crippling our nation.
They fuel racial division among man,
encourage violence to begin,
unless we grant them more power within.
They appease the mobs if it will help keep their jobs.

Many lies they have spread.
One even led to a madman taking a shot at Trump's head.
We thank God that Trump is not dead.
Another one lain in wait at his golf estate to assassinate.
Again, we thank God that Trump is not now the late.
They once peddled a fake dossier,
with hope that it would put President Trump away.
If you aren’t already aware,
they’re practicing banana republic lawfare,
to get him put in ironware and fitted for orange outerwear.
They’re trying to drain the billionaire.
They thought they could give him a major scare,
to get him to surrender in fear.
But they were wrong.
He continues to stay strong,
has a growing throng.

They participate in many criminal activities,
it sparks theories of conspiracies.
They marginalize and persecute the theorists as enemies.

They think facts should consider their feelings.
If one points this out it sends them reeling.
Those that deny their misinformation,
have their speech labeled lies to be censored from the nation.
They control most of the media,
and wish to rewrite our history in the encyclopedia.

The Socialists wish to abolish free speech,
and to be able to teach defiers a lesson.
First they must outlaw your Smith & Wesson.

They seek to destroy the owner of X,
because he won't support the Marxists.
He has been a global voice of reason,
loves to mock their treason.

They use government funded education,
to brainwash future generations,
malnourish kids of essential knowledge and good morals,
to make them ignorant depraved government slaves.
Many colleges are scamming our youth,
and withholding the truth.

They wish to dissolve traditional fams,
and convince kids to be trans.
If parents attempt to protect them,
they run the risk that the government will nick them.
If you don’t affirm their delusions,
they will see that you are met with a nasty conclusion.

They harm our little ones,
feeding them social media carcinogens,
to rot their mind, body and soul,
that they might become societal tumors instead of productive bloomers.

Science to them means whatever they want it to mean,
and it is the absolute truth, so it would seem.
We are expected to live with faith and reliance on their fake science.
If you pry, defy and not comply,
you could kiss your job goodbye.
Those that show no defiance to their fake science,
believe they will get reprieve from the Socialist’s persecution.
It seems they now unofficially practice a state sponsored religion based on this fake science as well as perverse, unethical and immoral behavior.
If you practice a religion they haven’t approved,
they might have you removed.

Their D.E.I. hire doth conspire to move even higher.
The serpent whispers in her ear,
“do anything you want,
no matter how severe.
It’s OK, it’s for your career.”
She stabbed President Biden,
and ain't even hidden,
that she aims for more power than Poseidon,
to wield the Tridents of war.
Now she’s the Democrat’s presidential nominee,
without even receiving a single vote from you or me.
But it’s ok, because they say, it’s all to protect our democracy,
run by their bureaucracy.
She hides behind Biden’s name,
so she doesn’t have to accept the blame.
She claims that she will start doing her job,
if voters finalize the motion to give her the promotion.
She has taken as her running mate,
a Manchurian candidate.
When he debates it sounds like he isn’t sure,
that he actually agrees with her.
As our current Border Czar,
she allows in raiders to get votes later.
She looks the other way,
while the largest slave trade in the world is made.
Our streets are filled with fentanyl,
because she refuses to finish the wall.
She thinks it would be nice if she could abolish I.C.E.
She should have thought twice before suggesting that bad advice.
It has all led to a lot of strife.
Now our nation is torn.

The United States of America they seek to destroy.

We must fight the plight of the Socialist’s might.
Socialists need to be ripped from their thrones,
and be no longer known.
We need to unify our nation with one determination.
Act forthwith lest our family and friends turn to foes.
Our communities need mending and socialism needs ending.

Holler patriots, holler, let the truth ring out.
Fight patriots, fight, never surrender.
Vote patriots, vote.

God save The United States of America!

© [2024] Author: Emet Ezer  All Rights Reserved
Inspired by John Milton's “In Quintum Novembris“
Joseph C Jun 2010
Your eyes are the ocean switching colors
Trapped inside this lazy eyed summer
Driving through the streets of small town rumors
And they had the nerve to call us the late bloomers

So we may have fell behind
But we never were lost we just like taking our time
But drinking doesn't do enough to unwind
Screaming vengeance in the burbs of a broken mind

So when you're sick of the city and the neon seems too bright
We'll head down to the country run away into the night
But I always thought that stars looked more like
Cigarette burns on the skin of the sky
Than sleeping satellites

They say you're the kind of girl to treat like an exit wound
******* all the sugar off your silver spoon
Let me show you I'm a black sheep, let me show you to my room

So when you're sick of the city and the neon seems too bright
We'll head down to the country run away into the night
But I always thought that stars looked more like
Cigarette burns on the skin of the sky
Than guiding fatalistic lights
David Nelson Nov 2011
The Queen's big pants

well now they've gone and done it
is nothing sacred anymore
a large pair of silk bloomers
belonging to the Queen
you won't find these in any store

they have been sold for £10,000
Victoria's garment gone for highest bid
King Arthur will be turning
in his grave forevermore
now what's he gonna tell his kid


Gomer LePoet ....
Julie Anne Lail Feb 2010
Starting seed, sleeping-blissful slumber flavoredwith dreams of abundance.a gentle heat envelopescoaxing life with warm embraces.Sustenance rains from the skyto fulfill the awakening life.Tightened, stiffened sinews regain their strengthstretching, reaching towardswarmth and light.Here, now, the sun is waning.The shift to the colddead times. The last of her warm embrace issoulfully propelled towardthe late bloomers, the oversleeperssweetly caressing them into wakefulness for the lastdying colors to the brightestof seasons.
Randy Johnson Jun 2015
Old Betsy is my shotgun and she keeps most salesmen away.
But some come on my property but they sure as hell don't stay.
Old Betsy shoots the hats off of their heads and she shatters their windshields.
Because of Old Betsy, they drive away because they think that they'll be killed.
One man took off running and left his car behind.
I don't know who he was but now his car is mine.
One salesman thought that I'm a transvestite because he had heard rumors.
That **** ***** was trying to sell me a dress and a pair of women's bloomers.
I shot the cigar right out of that idiot's mouth.
He jumped in his car and started driving south.
They try to unload junk on me but because of Old Betsy, they fail.
If you ever come on my property, you'd better not be trying to sell.
This is a fictional poem.
cheryl love Oct 2013
A rich tea biscuit in her pocket of crumbs for later
Is where she placed her hand.
A pocket containing her *****.
For her yellow queer nose, enough is enough
Old people have strange habits.
They save things for later.
"Oh thank you dear, I will save it for later!"
And as much as you try to explain
They then complain they cant hear you.
Selective hearing, that is what it is.
She can hear the bingo numbers being called
a mile off.
She can hear if I whisper "do you want a sherry"
With her bloomers, false this, false that, I love her.
And I would not swap her for the world.
She was my grandma, and I still love her.
She was beautiful, funny and awkward.
But I miss her, and always will.
RIP my grandmother Rest In Peace.
Cynthia Jean Sep 2017
Listening to
a cacophony
of sounds

joyful
symphonies

warm sweet air

late bloomers arriving
others on the bye

bees and butterflies
at home
harmoniously

drifters
faded leaves
wafting
gently

just for a moment
a quiet
stillness

nature smiles

all sweetness
and peace.

Cynthia Jean
2017
Just  a moment spent in my secret garden.
Mosaic Jul 2014
I want somebody
who knows what sadness is
To sit next to me
on this less than solid ground

i don’t hear my name often
Like a trick of reality
is when somebody addresses me
Fade, ghost, do lose hope

Even late bloomers
Wilt

— The End —