"dowdy" poems
Marilyn Monroe (who
lived next door, and swore more
than anyone I know)
reckoned blondes had all the fun.
It didn’t seem so to me,
when her old man was home.
She was as glamorous as
our Mum was dowdy.
Her lot lived on freezer-food
and fizzy, while our Mum
slogged over a ****** gas-stove,
and washed-up without gloves on.
Marilyn Monroe told
our Mum that she should fight.
Our Mum gave, to Marilyn Monroe,
secret recipes for dog-food stew
and koi carp pie.
Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 12:02 PM UTC
,,,"---"",,"",,---,,,"""
palpable piquant
pastel scream
surrounded by
portentous
dream
seafoam and symmetry
loquacious land
shuddering snow
and
sibilant sand
caustic, cocaphonous
calypso clouds
awed by the
eloquent
elongated
shrouds
burnt to mere
nothingness
negated, naught
turbulent
truculent
trickling
thought
dense and dowdy
docile and dubious
rousing and rowdy
quiet and studious
grating, gallumphing
gruesome
ground
supine and succulent
*asymmetrical
sound*
soulsurvivor
(C) 6/22/2015
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 5:54 AM UTC
A pair of stays to bind in fashion,
Stiff bodice lift those ample *******
French sophistication and ***** south,
Linen lines taken from the robin's nests.
Once seen in times known to all Baroque,
Steel cages more true to the name,
Renaissance blushed at the very sight,
This hidden and blustering shame.
Georgian era was always that late,
Yet women united to sheer the skin,
Frills and cuffs were the new bloom,
The dowdy apron given to the bin.
Victorian, Edwardian seen a rise of empire,
When romance boasts the whale bone done,
Now scattered in all weddings and burlesque,
Dear Corset is set in memory to run and run.
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 7:50 AM UTC
i crush all of my thoughts-
seizing those fleeting-
and put them right back into me.
my arm looks like a mood ring.
green for envy
and blue for broken.
black and purple,
both pathetic.
yellow is yellow.
when my skin fades back
to it's dowdy, cloudy white,
i'll know
i'm numb
again.
no color, no feeling.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 3:14 AM UTC
How could this have happened?
Life took its time and tortured me.
Taunting, malicious, evil.
I lived a melancholy life.
The people weren’t enough.
I desired more.
I desired love.
I desired my other half.
Just when I thought I was forever alone,
Unexpectedly, he appeared.
He cared, gave me his everything.
He took his time with me.
I should’ve recognized the foreboding.
We all want happiness, no one wants pain,
But we can’t have a rainbow without a little rain.
Even then, rainbows don’t last forever.
Life,
You’re wicked.
You want to hurt me.
When I wanted to pick a fight, You started running.
You don’t care about me.
You don’t care about young love.
Ripping my heart out.
Tearing apart his.
When someone thinks of you, life,
They think of you being balanced.
A sprinkle of unfairness,
A sprinkle of happiness.
You surprised all the guileless ones
You are judicious; an ill-humored dowdy.
Maybe you’re just a querulous old women,
Tired of ignorant pests.
Or maybe you were just born with a blackened heart.
But, now when I ask you for a reason why,
You curl up in a ball, roll away and let me cry.
What a coward.
Conniving little *****
What comes around goes around,
You’ll get your share,
Three times worse.
Think you’re so contumacious?
What is it?
You desired more?
You desired love?
You desired someone else?
Are you jealous?
Don’t be tremulous about the topic.
Something will happen to you…
Your soul mate awaits you,
But for now,
Please, be kind to me.
Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 4:01 AM UTC
An adamant introvert of inert thoughts
Dowdy and crapulous
Arrives in a fastidious yet effulgent
Didactic, contumacious world of education
Bilious in the beginning
Still taught an adroit sense of survival
Nefarious acts and risible happenings
There was a lesson in all
Zealous sclerotic soul
Learnt well, thought well
Contributed to goodness
Willfully abetted evil
The transcendence,
Luminous, loquacious
Cerulean peace within, built in blocks
Of love, respect and fear
A better heart, a better person
A better LIFE.
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 10:56 AM UTC
YOU ARE:
Boorish and bellicose
Calamitous and caustic
Defamatory and dowdy
Garrulous and guileless
Insolent and irksome
Are you busy tonight?
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 8:16 PM UTC
A pair of stays to bind in fashion,
Stiff bodice lift those ample *******
French sophistication and ***** south,
Linen lines taken from the robin's nests.
Once seen in times known to all Baroque,
Steel cages more true to the name,
Renaissance blushed at the very sight,
This hidden and blustering shame.
Georgian era was always that late,
Yet women united to sheer the skin,
Frills and cuffs were the new bloom,
The dowdy apron given to the bin.
Victorian, Edwardian seen a rise of empire,
When romance boasts the whale bone done,
Now scattered in all weddings and burlesque,
Dear Corset is set in memory to run and run.
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 9:18 AM UTC
A silken drop nectar refined,
Delicious, smooth, it’s taste sublime,
Worshipped and revered in times of old,
Bacchus it’s God, his hand-maidens bold.
The Romans swilled, the Greeks imbibed,
The British drank, the French prescribed.
The Church just called it Christ’s own blood,
Believers flowed as if by flood.
This luscious liquid as fine as honey,
The fountain not of youth but merely money,
Small price to pay for so much fun,
When it can turn a dowdy day to sun.
Clinking glasses moments shared,
The more imbibed the more is bared,
Food important or so they claim,
When as a smokescreen its main aim.
All that said let me be clear
There’s a reason we choose wine not beer,
Wine is healthy, helps the heart,
Beer is fattening and so ****
Aug 27, 2021
Aug 27, 2021 at 11:31 AM UTC
It's snowing out,
Christine says,
peering through
the glass
of the window
in the locked ward.
You stand beside her,
staring at the falling flakes,
surreal, chilly, white.
I want to be out in it
like a child, she says,
not stuck in here
like some prisoner.
You can smell her scent,
near by, entering into you,
distracting you. She
presses her palms
against the glass,
breathes on it,
steams it to a small
area of invisibility.
There's a tractor out
in that field, she says,
see it? Yes, you say,
sensing her closeness,
her arm touching yours,
elbow touching elbow.
And those birds look
at them, gulls, rooks,
feeding on the churned
over ground and the snow.
You wonder why
the **** who left her
at the altar could do
such a thing, why he got
that far and then left her
there in her white dress
and flowers and a church
full of people waiting
and then not show and she,
now, stuck in here full of stress
and with a fragile mind.
I want to go out in the snow,
she says, but the nurse
ignores her, walks by,
goes on about some other
business. Why can't we
go out in the snow? she
says to you. Maybe they
think we're going to run off,
you say, watching the tractor's
slow drive, the birds flocking
behind on the ground.
She sighs, puts her hands
down from the glass, holds
them in each other, could do
with a ******* cigarette.
Hey, nurse, got a cigarette?
Need a smoke, she says.
I got a smoke, you say,
I'll go get them. So you go
to the side room, where
the men are, and bring
your packet of cigarettes
and plastic lighter, and give
her one and light it for her
and light one for yourself,
and she inhales so deep
that she seems to stop
breathing and then exhales
up in the air, holding the
cigarette between her slim
fingers, her hand just so.
And you stand there by
the window watching the
tractor again and the falling
snow, and she's there again,
peering, smoking, sighing.
I'd not have left you at the altar,
you say, I'd not have done
it to you. She says nothing,
the smoke hitting the glass
and flowing inward again,
she gazes out, the tree tops
blanketed in whiteness,
birds in flight, you sense her,
smell her, imagine her.
I wonder who he's *******
now? she whispers, easing
out smoke, the snow falling,
the tractor pausing, then turning
back up the field, birds following.
She inhales again, looks away,
walks back into the main ward,
her fine *** having that sway,
her white night gown like some
dowdy wedding dress, holding
tightly to her, her figure shown,
the outline of her ******* showing,
blue against white. You turn and
watch the snow fall, the tractor
drive, birds in tow, your mind
blank now, white, cold as snow.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 3:59 AM UTC
I just need to close my eyes,
Hug myself, dance for the song in my mind
The song once you sang on that long drive,
My steps halting, as you stepped to my side...
We moved together like breeze; effortless,
We moved together like blaze untamed,
We held each other, like insane,
No strain or stir, pure music in our steps...
A cloud burst, unearthing us,
Carrying us to an undisclosed haven,
Your breath on my hair, the warmth I felt...
Our breath in sync, we swayed and held.
Was that a dawn or dusk, when we met?
Was it shining or dowdy as we were swept?
Not a drop of water or a grain of food we took,
Our bodies paralysed, yet we stood...
Time elapsed, a day? a month? Or a year?
In a trance we stood by each other.
The earth sped, we moved together
Faster; yet slower than ever...
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 3:48 PM UTC
Blackbirds nesting in the Pergola strut,
shaded in a Wisteria bower,
the first year it decided to flower,
untended, ragged spirals left uncut.
Father jet black darting past the window,
sudden flashes of his yellow rimmed eye.
Dowdy brown mother has no need to fly,
snuggled down as her love swoops to and fro.
Plaintive high-pitched cries announce their hatching
Three fledgling wide mouths hungry to be fed
A fortnight growth before learning to fly
one falls to earth is ready for snatching
Screeching alarums in fear and in dread
The jaws of a cat are no place to die
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 4:34 AM UTC
Awkward and clumsy
not an elegant mumsy
happy but dowdy
not hello but howdy
House not spotless
unkempt and careless
kids ok nonetheless
with her love their blessed
There always well turned out
you’d never hear her shout
laughs as they gad about
only praise from her mouth
I’d rather her any day
than Ms. Prim down the way
she’ll be there come what may
on her shoulder they can lay
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 2:45 PM UTC
“Another night in London; I’m alone again.
He’s out there somewhere thinking of me
Or maybe someone else.
Come stand next to me,
Pour yourself some virtual tea.
I’m sitting in the garden waiting,
Waiting for you to convict yourself
Sitting here, loving him and hating you,
You who thought only of yourself.
I loathe you, but I must please you,
Must outwit you to save him
How does it feel, now you’ve enslaved him?
“I take you both back to our sitting room to sort
It out. Say it’s a domestic but we know that’s rot.
We sit across from each other, he’s silent;
I am not. I analyse your past, the lives you took
And you stare at me with a killer’s face,
Your hooded eyes and rubber mouth,
With its fake smile relishing death.
“You know I know the real you,
But he must too.
Can he forgive you?
He must do it or
One of us will once again
Be shot through by you!
Which of us will it be?
“But this is just a calculated pause,
In a long con; do you realize
How close you came to ending up in a box?
You aren’t the only killer in town.
You have angered others beside me;
If my brother could howl, he would have;
He just sneers and has you followed and
Every move you make is being trapped.
Your dowdy clothes fool don’t me now,
Since I remember your assassin’s gear,
So clearly, just before you shot me.
And I know you weren’t just being nice,
No pistol could be that precise.
But now the question comes:
I give you the choice I never had:
Do you want to live or die?
Your husband won’t want you dead but I…”
She stares him, black defiant eyes,
He marks the seconds with fibrillating heart
He has never known her, from the start,
Do killers possess some hidden cloak
Like his lover’s naked mask?
Her theory of self-portrait disguises
Leads him to a sudden change of plan
“Why didn’t you come to me for help?”
He had forgot how well he lies.
And he sees that she knows it in her eyes.
There is only one solution for both.
Jan 18, 2025
Jan 18, 2025 at 1:57 PM UTC
Say Goodbye Mr Wrong. Say Hello Mr Right (c)-2017
Poetry By Michael D Dowdy
I believe ,love's not supposed to feel like this
it should come naturally & painlessly
not rushed nor difficult for you heart to handle
it shouldnt hurt , it shoulnt make you cry
- day after day
-night after night
baby, we both know- that aint right!
Girl, you would be , so much better off , without him
pack up his things, take back your keys
show him the door
say goodbye to mr wromg
say hello to mr right
say goodbye to mr wrong
say hello to mr right
if he cant or wont want to try
- -to make you happy & safe
it's time to rethink all of this over
how many times,will you cry, yourself to sleep
why do you cry, pretty. heartbroken lady
before you get rid of this selfish, egotistical creep?
tell me , why do you put up with all of this misery?
say goodbye mr wromg
say hello -mr right
Girl, you would be , so much better off , without him
pack up his things, take back your keys
show him the door
say goodbye to mr wromg
say hello to mr right
say goodbye to me wrong
say helllo to mr right
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 11:11 PM UTC
These pipes are dowdy
weathered, worn,
but I still use them
(and abuse them.)
I miss that feeling
that my chords
would fly me away;
that freedom was a song you sang.
Today it's not the same.
Aching...
each note, it leaves me...
aching...
reaching, yearning
begging for a muse
to use me.
My gut is turning;
hands and cheeks, burning.
My mouth is open
and from my veins and capillaries,
almost as if necessary,
I am Bursting.
Inside out and all around me
the sound it speaks to me profoundly:
This is who you are.
Remember?
Mar 1, 2011
Mar 1, 2011 at 8:08 PM UTC
He contemplates the Bible
As he adds up every page
Religion's an equation
As he totals every age
Of Man and Beast and Angel
(He's a thick and dowdy sage)
He tries to sum redemption
Through his numbers in a book
He thinks he sees sin everywhere
He's too afraid to look
And so he squints with whetted pen
(to carve his Heaven's nook)
He sits and waits for Rapture
As he whittles souls away
He does it all by numbers
In a slick efficient way
And when it doesn't add up...
("Forgive them... Let us pray.")
May 26, 2011
May 26, 2011 at 5:15 AM UTC
I lost the top of my head in an upward motion
Against the wind
And against the wills of everyone who wanted to explain to me
Just how I felt about this somewhat gloomy night
I’m not tired and I’m not sick,
Even when I’m hung downwards like pain is seeping through my dirtied eyes
I’m not hanging by a thread
trying hard not to touch the surface of this rough, needy tale
I’m walking barefoot upon open wounds and ice cold shriveled pieces
of every thought I had about driving this dowdy truck
Across the Country
I must be floating when I look down to whiff the smoke
Coming out of your tediously minuscule home
I think the light inside my throat is flickering - tickling
Making it quite silly to speak
So I think; why does my spleen taste so sweet?
I was writhing upon fading nails – patiently waiting for the moon
To break in half and for the birds to sway waltzing their way
Out of these exploding stars
I lost the bottom of my heart trying on this grim notion
But I can’t apologize
Sep 10, 2010
Sep 10, 2010 at 4:37 PM UTC
Our undercroft had housed our dead
Unseen, in gloomy sepulture.
But pagan chieftains much prefer
Barrows, where height can show instead.
And the busier departments need
Those lowest levels for their work.
Glib passers-by avoid that murk,
And absent bosses don’t impede.
Ensconsed where corpses decomposed,
Those in cubicles will thrive, unvexed,
And never taken from their desks,
They’ll finish the great work imposed.
Interrers from a raucous age
Buried their kings and queens in mounds.
Since robbers filch, and greed abounds,
The wise entombed their heritage.
Sarcophaguses, then the norm,
Are too chilly for a comfy bed.
The dawn should kiss those lids of lead,
To heat what blankets cannot warm.
Rather than burying in hills,
Top those barrows with their occupants.
These somber monuments enhance
What would be dowdy domiciles.
Coffins as cenotaphs and plaques,
Allow the dead to bask in sun,
And feel what veneration’s done.
Hilltops make the best catafalques.
Oct 11, 2021
Oct 11, 2021 at 12:27 PM UTC
The Sonoran desert.
Bleak and barren.
How could you house
So many musical creatures?
None of them sleep in
For the Friday night.
Grouchy from hangovers.
Plain brown birds
Like dowdy housewives
Chuckle, titter and
Whisper in the trees.
They gossip about us I think.
SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) September 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 9:27 AM UTC
Poet : Praise Ncube
Poem : I'm not racist
I'm not racist
I was born to love
Whether you are
Black , white , brown
or Australoid
I respect you , i care about you
I have accepted everyone
But not everyone have accepted me
Just because I'm black
They see my colour as a weapon
They are uncomfortable to have me close
I'm prone to discrimination
And I'm exposed to death
Who said your colour means supremacy?
And who said my colour means slavery?
Why are you so stereotypical and skeptical about me ?
I'm not a brouhaha trigger
I'm a peacemaker
I have a phlegm of oppression
I can't breathe
Racism is for the flummoxed minds
So dowdy and noxious .
Your labels led to self-fulfilling prophecy
Because i had no choice
I am what i am
Because you made me who i am
I was born innocent
And you said I'm violent
Your perception made me one
Is it too late to stop hate or
It's still early ?
I'm not racist . Why you ?
May 7, 2021
May 7, 2021 at 4:29 PM UTC
"Just The Way.You Are" (c)-2017
Poetry By Michael D Dowdy
I love you , just the way you are
with all your faults & sins
I'm not sacred off (by your rebellious attitude)
I'm not worried about (your past mistakes)
I'm not going anywwhere- (except into your waiting arms)
I love you baby, yes i do
just the way, you are
just the way, you are
Ive been torn into pieces
Ive been ripped to shreds
for my past mistakes & sins
Ive been rejected
Ive been disrespected
ive been abused
and taken- for granted
too times, for far too long
never feeling like i belonged
except by you, my darling
yes, i know, so have you!
I love you baby, yes i do
just the way, you are
just the way, you are
I'm not perfect, and i know
yes, ive known it- neither are you
we have our emotional scars
we made plenty of mistakes
we have our fair share
-of sins & regrets
we have both been-(torn to pieces)
by family ,friends & lovers
i dont understand, why we even bothered
-to try to reach out to them
when they refuse to treat us, respectfully
I love you baby, yes i do
just the way, you are
just the way, you are
Ive been torn into pieces
Ive been ripped to shreds
for my past mistakes & sins
Ive been rejected
Ive been disrespected
ive been abused
and taken- for granted
too times, for far too long
never feeling like i belonged
except by you, my darling
yes, i know, so have you!
I love you baby, yes i do
just the way, you are
just the way, you are
Ive seen the best of you
Ive seen the worst of you
you have seen (the best of me)
you have seen (the worst of me)
i love you baby
just the way, you are
and i know, you love me too
just the way, i am
just the way, i am
Ive been torn into pieces
Ive been ripped to shreds
for my past mistakes & sins
Ive been rejected
Ive been disrespected
ive been abused
and taken- for granted
too times, for far too long
never feeling like i belonged
except by you, my darling
yes, i know, so have you!
I love you baby, yes i do
just the way, you are
just the way, you are
and i know, you love me
just the way, I am
just the way, I am
Ive been torn into pieces
Ive been ripped to shreds
for my past mistakes & sins
Ive been rejected
Ive been disrespected
ive been abused
and taken- for granted
too times, for far too long
never feeling like i belonged
except by you, my darling
yes, i know, so have you!
I love you baby, yes i do
just the way, you are
just the way, you are
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 11:06 PM UTC
I cant be UR girl
CUZ I got **** on my mind
its all a game
and I want it all the time
U said U could handle
my large appetite
But I'm starting to see
UR putting up a lil fight....
I just wanna **** it
and maybe spit on it
lick on it, bite it
make love to it
U can't handle this *****
I'm sure it's too much
Stop ****** playing
and let me come ****
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 6:37 PM UTC
We went see the peacocks
up along the farm road.
We parked our cycles over
by the hedge. You said how
dowdy the pea-hens were
compared with the peacocks.
We looked at them through
the wire mesh. They walked
about slowly doing their
peacock thing: showing up
their fine feathers and tails.
I mused about us back at
the farm house: making
love in your small room
with the sloping roof, your
single bed unmade, your
sheets ruffled. I liked how
you spread your wings
and arms about my waist.
Your mother came back
just after we came down stairs.
You spun some yarn about
me just having come. Your
mother made me hot tea
and toast and mothered
me before your jealous eyes.
We watched the peacocks
move about the grounds
making their peacock sounds.
Dec 13, 2017
Dec 13, 2017 at 10:10 AM UTC