"costumes" poems
Iguana of diamonds,
Sand sea and sun,
Little children in sight,
Attractions of light,
Natives of love,
Decorative cities, what night.
Island’s of the Bahamas beauty as can be,
What more fun than playing with dolphins in the sea.
Creative costumes, dancers so bright,
The music dramatized, Feel the rush it’s a site.
Nothing more beautiful than the island themselves,
Well except the people willing to give help.
Pineapples, peas and rice, pink sand, flamingoes, and some conch salad,
Not forgetting the “KALIK,” cause’ “IT’S A BAHAMIAN TING”.
Blue, Black and Aquamarine, was just described to you,
All in the Islands Love.
Come and enjoy the exciting experience too!
My Bahama Land!
©
Nov 4, 2010
Nov 4, 2010 at 7:33 AM UTC
There’s a Devil of a night each year, the night of Mr. Haim!
When the devilish and ghoulie ones come out to play their monster’s game.
And why some would seek to trick or treat on this scary day of dead?
Careful now cause gremlins, trolls …sprites and wolves, will offer up their dread!
Quiet, shush, I hear a pack of creepy-crawly boots…
Ra’atan-Zu and the Boogedy-Boo!
And the skeleton bones, clink…
And the skeleton bones, clink…
The skeleton bones clink.
That crafty-smith of horns and hooves is spying on these kiddies,
As Ra’atan-Zu and the Boogedy-Boo are hunting strays to do their dastardly-ditties.
Quiet, shush, I hear a pack of creepy-crawly boots,
And their costumes, oh-so-foul, the evilest of suits!
And there she is, that little girl who can’t keep up, in a tasty mushroom ensemble.
And the skeleton bones clink in her path to give her quite a tomble!
Ra’atan-Zu and the Boogedy-Boo!
And the skeleton bones, clink…
And the skeleton bones, clink…
The skeleton bones clink.
And Sammy Haim, that smithy-devil, a ***** hoof -igniting ghoul’s desire,
He’s howling out, demanding now, “Put that child to the fire!”
And little does he know, no little bit, not even a small clue,
Neither Ra’atan-Zu nor Boogedy-Boo intend on giving him his due!
For once a year on Halloween they get one night to spaz,
Get down and ***** wild and crazy and play a little jazz!
That little mushroom of a girl will play a tiny fiddle,
Ra’atan-Zu and the Boogedy-Boo, a jazzy duet with child in middle!'
Ra’atan-Zu, Boogedy-Boo and a little girl too as they get down actin’ a spaz! Playin’ all night, howling to the moon and kickin’ out some wicked jazz!
*And the skeleton bones, clink…
And the skeleton bones, clink…
The skeleton bones clink.* *
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 6:31 PM UTC
A point of a toe, a stretch of your hand.
romancing and twirling, you leap and then land
A beautiful musical, you dance like a doll.
Holding your posture, you don't ever fall.
Beautiful costumes, you look like a queen.
This is the most Amazing ballet I've seen.
Hold your head high as you curtsy and bow.
You were amazing! They love you now.
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 8:59 PM UTC
There's something odd about it.
How I know their names, their personalities, the jokes they tell.
How I know the plans you guys have made and the fun activities you'll all do as a team.
How I even know the costumes they'll wear and the conventions you will all go to.
And I know what I'd say in conversation with them,
How I'd get to know them better,
How I would put my best foot forward,
How I've longed to actually hear their voices so I can match them with their persona.
But that's not in the cards.
It's okay, I'm okay.
But sometimes I realize how disconnected I am from your world.
How far away and far removed I am.
And I remember that no one knows me.
None of them know my name, or my personality.
They don't know the plans we have made or activities we are planning.
They don't think about what they'd say to me in conversation, or how they'd "get to know me better".
They wouldn't need to put their best foot forward or hear my voice to match me to the rest of my persona....
Because to all of them I don't exist. I'm a distant acquaintance from a long time ago.
I am a passing name in very loose conversation every couple of months.
I am the one who knows but isn't known.
I am a ghost.
And no one in your life can see me,
Except for a very special person,
And that's you.
(i. r.)
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
Standing in the sand, smelling salty waters,
Of the Caribbean seas, through the cold vibrant breeze.
Watching all the tall, happy, swaying coco nut trees,
And when you sniffle a little of the bake and shark it makes you want to sneeze.
Then take a walk in our rivers and cook up a curry *** or stew,
With fish coo coo and a little calla-loo.
and you take a bite and you taste buds and glands spring water of the delicious flavors that makes you say mhmmm.
Afterwards you can visit the reefs and see the dancing colors of the under water reefs,
Of the Caribbean seas, where I'm from and would always love to be.
But tho forget, it's Carnival time so come in your costumes and with your coolers because you're coming out to fete,
And tho forget, when you step out on "D" road of jouvert morning until night listen to the Soca music,
And let it rap you up and run through your ears with melodies that will make you want to bep.
Oh yes the Caribbean dream, where every man's a king and every woman's a queen.
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 3:21 PM UTC
Up early as usually but this time with a mission to complete Halloween Costumes.
Not a pain free day most definitely, but have kids who rely on me to be a good mom.
Everyone has haters; the two faced, "your girls" wanting your guy or envy clothes style,
or randoms you never met, desiring your life, home or new car bought with hard work.
Most days what's posted on sites about me makes not a bit of difference in my world,
I ignore and move on with my life, know haters have nothing better to do than gossip.
No news is good news and nothing from my usual "Town Criers" saying "Guess What?"
One day got messages in text, "You have been labeled Babylon's ***** by Craiglisters!"
Not a "lol" nor "Roflmao" situation. Thinking, What in the world? and How in the world?
Me, Ms. Abstaining and they, who love assuming and posting drama without thought.
Their world; small town America and believers of truth in "all" internet rumors and media,
not willing to give benefit of doubt, once minds, so limited in thought, have been made up.
E-mail inquiries from potential employers I never met from destinations far far away,
asking and informing that person with such low morals shall never be part of their world.
Drama finds me and neither welcome nor do I seek it out, way too emotionally draining,
believer in live and let live, authored "Celibacy" poem to stop jokes made to my kids.
Who knew that trying for your dreams could bring forth bringers or illogical pure hatred?
Who knew that emotions of my children whom I love, would be affected by narrow minds?
After family conference and with full support, by the way, had to explain ***** to son,
this mom carries on and still on second journey pursuing dreams and making realities.
If I give up dreams it will never be because someone posted bold faced lies on open forum,
it will be because I choose to do it with good reasons and those reasons are mine alone.
Pitfalls? Have been numerous. Will? Strong and still determined to see this through to end.
Tomorrow isn't promised and hear my dad say, "Daughter, go forth and let haters be fuel!"
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 4:01 AM UTC
Soon I will be done with the ledger of my adolescence
The sun is still in his puberty, though older than me
The moon is still in her perfection, a blessed queen
I have bejeweled you with the sweat of my love
And have garlanded your beauty with rubies and pearls….
Today you are the ocean of love,
And I the sunny heat of summer.
You came that day, Expecting for your arrival
Sun poured shower of anguish on my amethyst Panjabi
Out of the blue You appeared like an expected spring
In her colorful curcuma domestica costumes.
Your locks under the veil of spring’s yellow umbrella
Still counting the days, the nights, the ongoing time,
Sometimes my heart in quest of a Time –machine….
We took the weight off our feet under a Blessed tree
I touched your hand joining my two palms
The cold current of spring was soaring there
My ill-fated heart could not Kiss your "Petals of Blood"
I drowned, I drowned in my own made ocean……..
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC
The sun bakes down heavily on a plastic micro planet in Orlando, Florida
where crowded trams drop American bushels of tourists into an alien world.
Quickly fantasy comes alive
through a corporation of disguise.
The workers mask themselves in a drapery of familiar life
-like costumes to charm little children’s hearts.
They smile wildly, carving a clear dimple line on the but of their cheeks. Walt’s Disney World
must have driven every one of America’s circuses out of business.
The flying trapeze is too elegant,
people now want to be strapped in,
buckled up and whipped around
to forcibly experience the true velocity of entertainment.
Even the participant’s attire is geared for this third world oblivion. Neon ***** packs rest like bloated kangaroo pouches
on fat sweaty old lady’s round hips, their plump fingers
holding on to leashed harnesses reined to their child’s small chest.
This is vacation,
strangers of people in massive conglomerations
with confused expressions and burnt faces.
Even the food seems wickedly unnatural,
like an artificial order of burning plastic and sour dough surprise.
Waiting is the enthusiast’s pastime as parades
of anxious voyeurs are captivated by a trance
fixation of lights and whistles.
They line up like schools of lemming,
plunging on rides,
one by one.
This is the place
Where memories are made
And dreams come true
Sep 25, 2010
Sep 25, 2010 at 12:25 PM UTC
you used to come home loudly in the dark but
quietly in the day we’d be together
to compensate
we were only in love on Halloweens
you in those hundred dollar costumes worth two
in material and tiny fingers
**** rats and ER surgeons
to me with a pop-culturally relevant ******* mask
Frankenstein (to the dumb dudes that go to these things)
that chisels me like a jell-o mold
that blurs her infinitely beautiful walking-away
the blooming glances pairing parting lips to talk ********
caking the ***** reeling in our heads
winding round the spindle hooked tight
pulling my hard-hat plastic-green face
to the windmill
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 3:02 AM UTC
I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of
but I can't be tied to those forever
so people forgive and forget
I try to forget but still feel bad
and I know there are still sore subjects
that I should be sensitive about.
Scrolling through Reddit I see a post
of Māori students at an airport
greeting their returning teacher
with a traditional Māori war dance
which was an admittedly sweet gesture
but something didn't sit right with me.
I wondered why the students greeting their teacher
had to do so through a display of militaristic nationalism
I wondered if that was the last dance the Moriori people saw
before the Māori genocided them for their resources
I wondered if the Māori danced like that
as they ***** murdered, and cannibalized the Moriori.
Wondering all of this made me ask myself:
Why did they have to greet their teacher like that?
The students wanted to make a big gesture
which dancing is perfect for
but dancing can also be vulnerable and embarrassing
because people may mock how you express yourself
but strangers at the airport are less likely to laugh at you
if you're doing a synchronized dance with a group of people
and the dancing is recognizably tied to national identity
because then it's a culturally rich dance
you're a xenophobe for laughing at
and that's what nationalism is:
strength in numbers and a readymade identity
in lieu of an individual personality
oftentimes for the sake of pistanthrophobia.
So as I read the circlejerking comments on the post
I wondered what the difference is between
a Māori war dance and a **** salute
I guess the Māori people have experienced
more oppression than Nazis
but nationalism is nationalism
and those who have oppressed are oppressors
and many who are oppressed would gladly
be oppressors given the chance.
Nationalism isn't healthy for culture
and often isolates people from other cultures
that are all combining due to globalization
which people fight to preserve their little dances and costumes
so we can stay in eternal conflict over delusions of supremacy
when the only nationality should be a global one.
Aug 28, 2022
Aug 28, 2022 at 8:41 PM UTC
**** ruined you.
It ruined us.
I thought it was me.
My fault.
I needed to change.
I did my hair, my make up.
I danced for you.
I dressed in lingerie and costumes but it was never enough.
I couldn't live up to lust.
Then I learned it wasn't me.
I was your love for ***********
Slowly this diminished my love, my respect for you.
Worst of all it destroyed me, and all my self confidence I had in my self.
I convinced myself,
*** isn't everything but everything else had seemed right.
Maybe we can learn together connecting emotion with action.
Conclusion ended up being your lack of desire for *** and intimacy with me. Could it be my fault?
**** was always just one click away from any fantasy.
I would confront you and express my concerns.
Trying to make the two of us work.
You only got better at hiding it.
*** became a struggle.
Neither of us could reach that ******
All you could do was blame me.
Then I knew....
You had the case of the prisoners' hand.
Could I wear more makeup?
What about white tipped nails?
Maybe I needed breast implants.
Now you want role play and ***** talks?
If that wasn't enough could I consider *********
I tried to wrap all this around my head.
Thinking maybe these things would work.
We could become a couple again.
You could never find satisfaction.
So there could be no compromise.
Soon I lost my interest in ***
It never seemed to bother with you.
I grew angry towards you.
Things began to come violent.
You pushed me twisting my arms and wrist.
Then threw me on the hardwood floor.
As my wrist began to bruise and swell.
How I missed being loved and cared for.
How I desired beautiful and emotional just plain naked ***
All I feel....is lying here depressed.
I'd rather stay in bed then walk into you.
Every time I see you I take a deep breath, Turn around, and walk straight to bed and begin to cry again.
I ask myself...
Why did I stay this long?
Why did I try so hard to fix something that was never there?
For 6 years.
I believed you loved me.
When in reality you were in love with ****
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 12:40 PM UTC
I thought the guy dressed up like a kingfisher
Didn’t really look like a kingfisher
His beak too long
His legs not yellow enough
But still he did a pretty good job of diving into the water
And coming up with a guy dressed up like a fish
Even though his fins looked a little too stiff to me
(No wonder the kingfisher caught him)
And the bull facing that matador
(who even had a pigtail like the one Hemingway kept mentioning --
Oh, I mean the real man not the man dressed as a bull)
He just looked too scared for a bull
Well that’s what I thought
And I’ve been to a lot of bullfights
Real bulls got more bravery than that
Sure they’re confused
But I’ve never seen one turn tail and run
Oh yeah -- and he forgot to put a tail on his bull suit
All in all it was a wash wasn’t it
Wetter than the guy in the kingfisher suit.
Still it was nice for us to dress up in animal costumes
To give the animals at least one day to have a day off
Maybe next year we’ll figure it out better
Both in our costuming and their cries
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 3:49 PM UTC
Here in the masquerade,
plastic faces on parade.
Truth refracted by our lies.
Masks revealing what we hide.
Beneath the mask, a painted face--
there is no truth that's not erased.
We are what we pretend to be--
flaunting our complexities.
We cannot undo the mess we're in;
Our costumes now our second skin.
We choose carefully our facades;
We pay the price to act like Gods.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 7:04 PM UTC
the nature of this night
spreads its thin harvest upon my table
a gruel and water porridge feast
with the fanfares of her jaundiced hand
many more lined up with eager grin
for the warmth of paupers kinship
thin blanket wrapped round our shoulders
snow gathers at feet
she captures the moment on paper
the image of all of us gathered like when we were young
the grandiose illustration
with its brilliant colour fanfare with
jugglers and wine swilling laughing men blinded by drink
chorus line of female dancers who wear costumes of the hundred years war
lead the assault on the last bastions of the ignorance of bliss
all descrying that we can ill afford to be sleeping
while empires are built in our namesake
the so daintily shod soldiers whos feminine wiles misunderstood
have taken over the dancehall beneath us
and have taken up song
the grandiose illustration
caught by her pen on sketch pad
has leanings to the Marxist revolutions
and philosophys of the rhetorical
but in the end we join them and
drink the port sing the song
a thousand years of tales to be told
in the eyes of a single girls sweet thoughts
epic landscapes filled with noble men and storybook girls
the grandiose illustration
shows the two of us on the beach
with the sun racing down to touch the high towers of miami
and fill the laughing joys of thouse who toss and
tumble in the breaking waves
the nature of this night
in one small corner of the illustration
a simple window with the shade drawn
that says goodnight
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
****** empowers those who flaunt
the shape imbued by deity
by wide degree that willingness
to express beauty’s form
empowerment becomes the goal
once a choice is expressed
by displaying more or less
skin’s gamut is then blessed
divestment of draped attire
spans the spectrum from slight to all
whether the ankle only shows
or lack of raiment is complete
that span is chosen by the self
society is asked to stand mute
don't suggest what should be
except to honor certitude
the superficial or complete
exhibition is the private trek
played out in public without remorse
rejoice for those who made their choice
skin as sanction to celebrate
costumes bent to serve a will
no longer hiding the natural
****** displaying love of self.
© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180907.
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 8:52 PM UTC
Tonight’s the night
when your throat swells tight,
your breath falls short,
your costumes don’t fit right.
Tonight’s the night
friends will surely mock,
your hair’s utter chaos,
your knees nervously knock.
Quality is demanded,
perfection from each night;
it’s subtly commanded;
it solicits stage fright.
Hiding from view
behind glamour and grace,
lingers that time-tried spew:
“Get those nerves off your face!”
From backstage, a call:
“Everyone take your place!”
You’re not ready at all!
Just breathe, steady pace.
Silently whispered lines
across a tongue of cotton,
but then the spotlight shines!
And all these worries, forgotten.
Because tonight’s the night
when your smile will glow,
your beauty stun
and passion show.
Tonight’s the night
you’ll become like a star,
Creator-made,
perfect just as you are.
Nothing else compares,
not applause, not stares,
when you dance for your Savior,
who loves you, who cares.
Tonight’s the night
audiences will applaud,
but you know what they don’t:
it’s not you, but God.
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 5:17 PM UTC
887
We outgrow love, like other things
And put it in the Drawer—
Till it an Antique fashion shows—
Like Costumes Grandsires wore.
3.2k
Fall in Miami is nearly here
It's my favorite season of the year
Cooler the weather soon will be
Crisp air, fresh smells, energetic cats we'll see.
Time to plant my seeds to grow
Vegetables, herbs, all organic we sow
Trees still green, light outside after dinner
Walks, badminton, biking all a winner.
Halloween fun coming soon,
The stores with holiday supplies since June
Door bells ring, children call “trick-or-treat”
Scary costumes and mounds of candy to eat.
Buy a pumpkin and carve evil, smile fake
The seeds toasted, fruit in an aromatic cake
Shriveled pumpkin in my compost bin
Organic matter to start all over again.
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 8:54 PM UTC
Sitting in a darkened room,
Take your emotions out of their costumes.
Music is bouncing from wall to wall.
Singing at the top of your lungs, you fall.
Embracing yourself, while in tears.
Hold onto me, hold onto me
You're whimpering.
Only you can see..
Just scream.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
Its funny, as I am sitting here in the back of the auditorium, listening to all my friends on stage. The song is The Nutcracker, and suddenly it all comes back. As the bass thrums in my ear and the trupet blares loudly across the audience, I remember those winter day where She would take me to The Nutcracker. Two young girls in tow, She would cart us around, another venue every year. It was grand, the high light of my season. I could watch women with long limber legs and men in their toy soilder costumes, prance gracfully across the stage in time with th music. As I sat in that darkened auditorium it all came back to me. She used to take me to see this, to listen to this music. I had the urge to laugh madly, and cry out in anguish. Its a funny thing how precious things become long after they have ended. When the memory still stands while the erson fades. In that darkened auditorium I felt a pang of sickening nostaligia and longing. For She is dead and I am still here, and now I have no one to take me to the Nutcracker
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 10:46 PM UTC
The little kids we used to be,
still play like the kids we were,
but now it’s graveyards instead of a playground.
Instead of dress-up costumes,
it’s makeup lathered to our faces,
we must be like those perfect pictures in magazines.
We play boyfriends and girlfriends instead of hopscotch,
anorexia instead of basketball.
Instead of storybooks, it’s facebook posts telling us
we don’t deserve to live.
We used to wear those colorful sillybandz,
and trade them with each other,
but now it’s scars from a razor
we wish we could take off.
It was always begging for seconds of ice cream,
but now it’s sneaking away to throw up the
little amount of food they make you eat.
Instead of staring at a summer campfire
waiting to roast marshmallows,
we stare at the fire waiting to burn ourselves.
Instead of angry first graders getting into a fistfight,
the anger now directs the punch to ourselves.
We used to sneak Halloween candy,
trying to stuff ourselves,
but now you sneak pills,
trying to overdose and hoping for death.
We used to play so freely,
we thought it’d always be like that.
But now we run among graveyards,
the bones of the ones we left behind
clutter the passages.
And we’re still children playing games
with the worlds, but the stakes are higher,
we wonder if we’ll make it.
It’s just a roll of the dice on this graveyard
playground.
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 4:30 PM UTC
Banked up against a terraced mountainside
photogenic pristine rows
of blasting green
rows of manicured waterways
with two buffaloes treading ballet-like
between squelching mud and green shoots
the paddy fields stayed buoyant
all season through.
Come harvesting time
and thrashing the sunburied ripe
tendrils of husk and seed
along threshing traffic wheels
the husk sought divorce from
the long tongued long grained
wives -and parted ways.
Soon the pudding spent its silky smooth sexiness
on a plate of punchy aromatic costumes
that invaded the senses and palate
in sensual smoothness. Oh my!
Ricebowl pudding
of the worlds staple.
Author Notes
Gluttony beckons just now!
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 6:45 PM UTC
Just like a shirt cannot
hide the hurt
or a headache
beneath a hat
nor a heartache in a suit
or cold feet in a boot
or glove for a trembling hand
neither a thought I think
could be bound
by a headband
You may appear
cool, calm and collected
but make-up and costume
cannot hide the bleeding
of a wound thats infected
Mar 16, 2022
Mar 16, 2022 at 6:11 AM UTC
.
•a long time
ago in a galaxy far away
•the saga continues with fancy
new droids•characters in outland-
ish costumes put on display•impo-
ssible new crafts that dart and slice
through vacuumed voids•armed to
■■■■ the teeth with impressive weapons• ■■■■
■■■■■ spectacular battles between gargan- ■■■■■
■■■■■ tuan cruisers• never ending fight b- ■■■■■
■■■■■ etween opposing factions•where d- ■■■■■
■■■■■ ark and light wield fantastic sabers• ■■■■■
■■■■■ oh i love it... i love it! the day draws ■■■■■
■■■■■ near • where my childhood pangs... ■■■■■
■■■■■ **would begin to smart•in a week, the ■■■■■
■■■■■ long anticipated day would be here•** ■■■■■
■■■■■ where the sith in my veins meets the ■■■■■
■■■■■ jedi in my heart• ■■■■■
■■■■■ ■■■■■
■■■■■■ ■■■■■■
■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■
IIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIII
.
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 10:49 AM UTC