"runway" poems
Hello, Waitress in the sky
So long her fear to fly
She throws the world a smile
bats her eyes in a wink she's gone
hurling through the clouds
calming others through turbulence
**** the corporate scene
Type A personalities acting mean
humiliating her in a board meeting
so she trades blue for green
Goodbye Waitress in the sky
trade her wings for a diamond ring
So long her need for speed
racing on the runway
She was flying with the birds but now
she's swimming with the fishes
Deflated dreams of broadening horizons
a-popped balloon and a rolling stone
nowhere to go but everywhere
Oh Lord, she won't get the answer tonight
Oh sky, give her the strength to fly
Oh Queen, find her a smart place to run
and that's why she took US 66 for a drive
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
‘tis but a thing she does
The female assassin
They say that poison is her weapon… maybe on occasion
But that is a level she’s surpassing
You see, what they fail to understand is that she doesn't take lives for vengeance
‘tis but a profession
The beautiful, tantalizing female killer
Her male victim’s obsession
One minute she’s a runway model… with her devilishly sinful grin
A smile so engrossingly enticing… full, red lips that cut across her face playfully
Against her flawlessly peaceful skin
One word for that…’killer’
Forbidden pleasures… blissful sin
She’s taken out big names… maybe even one or two heads of state
To dinners she’s escorted these men… and later on left them in their deadest state
She walks through the front door, but when leaving she can scale windows
Agility is her forte… ‘Man killer’ she is
The black widow…
In a red dress
You may be reading this thinking you can never fall prey to her seductive tentacles
‘tis an argument I do not even wish to get into
I digress.
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 8:43 AM UTC
***I borrowed wings ,
from the very wild wind..an unknown breeze.
im on adventures runway***
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 5:16 AM UTC
Silver winged of steel
Buckled up
Cocooned in a cabin
No phones, no emails, no Internet
Racing down the runway
Soaring high above the ground
Distant specks of life
Winged of steel climbs though the skies
Clouds below, clouds above
Seat reclines, put in my earphones, close my eyes
I lose myself, soothed by the motion of the flight
Just a seat, a window, sky, music
Suspended, moving above the earth
Windswept heights
Countries, oceans, mountains, forests
Dawn to dusk
Smooth and turbulent
Dancing through life’s path in the skies
My breath of Serenity
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 10:09 AM UTC
I've looked bad but felt good
I've looked good but felt bad
I've looked bad and felt bad
I've looked good and felt good
I've failed so many times I can't count
I've learned so much I can't find individual moments
I have gradually increased
But I am finding myself
I am finding the confidence to strut out of my dorms like I'm walking on the runway
I have found myself so sad my body has become immobile
I am growing stronger
Physically. Mentally. Spiritually.
I am finding God in the most random moments, but when I do it is glorious
I find myself alone too often
I find myself feeling alone too often
I find myself hiding too often
I'm ready to let my potential loose
And become the lion I am meant to be
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 9:09 PM UTC
Take me to an art museum on our first date
Snip pictures of me next to the masterpieces and when im hungry buy me a veggie burger and strawberry smoothie
Compliment my kinks when I take out my braids tell me on gorgeous even on
those ****** days ".
Support my dream to strut the runway but dont force me to go to church on Sunday
Love me for who i am
Is all I ask
Effort will take you a long way
Once you complete this task
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:49 PM UTC
Spring memes
Cuddle under iced sheets
Seduced by frigid lies
And a burberry scarf;
As snow ploughs rule the runway
Glazed rosebuds,
Thimbled thorns,
Strawberries wrapped in cashmere;
And a carrot-nosed character dressed in white,
Play the fiddle
Naked limbs creep
Into the sky,
Seeking green accessories
For fashion week in June
Amidst global miles of warmth
Grandfather's clock
Ticks wisely ahead,
Hands free of politic;
And the memes of Spring delayed
Propagate through verse
And cliched controversies...
Eclipsed by tweets from the Black Sea.
~ P
(#TheMemesOfSpringDelayed)
(3/7/2014)
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 5:22 PM UTC
I want to ride the streams,
the canopies, of light.
like a curious passenger
on a speeding motorcar
down the runway from everywhere
to your eyes
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 2:36 PM UTC
stars and radio master
intercloud motion—1000 light
years in most directions. However,
I am still blind to anything
but you. This
dark matter aloha steps
off my mind’s plane
into the muggy air. A string
of flowers is placed around
my neck, and I look up—
starbursts
spit their rings violent and
central—your body
in music. Now, tropical
space—population
one. A tear rolls down
my face onto the
runway—I can’t remember
the sound of
your voice.
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 3:31 PM UTC
An Airline we want you to boost
We travel coast to coast
We are not an Airlines being most
It’s friendship in the skies
Our Flight Attendants are the ones who advise
We extend our serious welcome even at the flight’s end
Friendship Airlines is about bringing passengers together
We are not like our other airlines competitors being the other
From the minute you sit in your seat
Your seat also elevates your feet
It’s that take off from the runway
Knowing that you are on vacation and you need our getaway
Our packages will add to your stay
Then it is within flight hours of your arrival
We care about the passengers we serve
It’s quality service that all our passengers deserve
Fly Friendship Airlines with the logo handshake way
It will be pure satisfaction in what you will say
Friendship Airlines being your friendly tip
There will be times when the plane might dip
Just remember our Pilots will be in control
Our friendly skies with a look of behold.
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 4:52 PM UTC
Shopping outfashioned hunting and gathering,
Processed beats fresh,
Groceries replaced fruit trees,
Malls superceded forests,
Churches outnumbered temples,
Countries dissolved to territories,
Places devolved to areas,
Paths broke down into highways,
Commodity converted to currency,
Laborers submit to machinery,
Masters engage in humbug,
Apprentices reduced to students,
Knowledge downgraded to education,
And education is deducted to a show of grades,
While schools are the stages,
And the corporate world is the bigger runway,
With work slumped to employment,
Wisdom demoted to profession,
Where in jobs are the only future,
Careers are the only success,
Clicking and pressing buttons are skills,
Computers are correspondent to brains,
Information refers to news reports,
Intelligence means up-to-dateness,
Browsing is preferable to reading,
Studying is in demand more than learning,
Viewing things flashed on screens yields awareness,
Transportation is to traveling,
As buying is to the three basic needs,
And needs embody worldly possessions,
Worldly possessions define happiness,
Happiness is due to selfishness,
Selfishness is traced to the lack of love,
The lack of love draws from the lack of faith,
Because faith stands for religion,
And religion stands for membership,
Where politicians are the gods,
Celebrities are the preachers,
And the preachers are the enemies,
While networking is equal to friendship,
And connection equates to communication,
Experiences require photos,
Memories necessitate uploading,
Souvenirs can be downloaded,
Smartphones are substitute to pets,
Gadgets are toys,
Holding controllers is playing,
Watching TV is exploring the great outdoors,
Internet is recreation,
And technology is a way of life;
While humans are scientists,
Nature is a guinea pig,
And the earth is a laboratory,
Where prices are misidentified for worth,
Processes are miscalculated as progress,
Impoverishment is confused with improvement,
And getting more is mistaken as getting better;
And then we wonder why
Homes have become houses,
Family members have become boarders,
Nations are separate species
Composed of tired and hungry citizens,
Children are monsters
Who are biochemically rascals,
Teenagers are zombies
Whose adventures lead to delinquency,
Adults are robots
Who just clang when touched,
And life is not so simple
As how it is said to be.
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 5:40 AM UTC
its just that i’ve never loved a wild heart like yours before
and my favorite part -
besides your curly, bleached, dead hair -
is you in that pub with that wild eyed stare
dipping your head side to side
hand slowly moves over my shoulder
“i’m happy to see you. i’m happy to see you.”
and i walk alleyways like runway a model too drunk for her heels
and we say goodbye like actors who never made it big
soap opera goodbyes
i get in a cab and say goodbye goodbye goodbye!
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 8:55 PM UTC
psychologism, i.e. neo-racism, neo- due to it being without any collective ethnic collectivisation, best insinuated by marijuana users, grouping alcoholics with ****** sharp shooters; they think they have the moral high ground, but they talk jack sh-: medicinal marijuana is synthetic marijuana / ore without casual-use effects, it's not the sh- you put in your **** have a *** change and tell me about children suffering from cancer while you're at it: because those starving children of africa adverts... are really really working... knowing that the man in control of such charities earns over half a million a year - post-colonialism only really works while you have former colonial indigenous peoples nearby, then you can milk that ***** cow from the locals... make sure you think the nairobi international airport has a dirt runway and you'll feel all ******* fuzzy giving money to these companies... post-colonialism only works like that... import some former colonials to milk the former colonial whites into coughing up money & guilt... then watch the irish get leery with sarcasm at almost anything... and the scots gear up pride and become politically malignant... the good friday agreement? tony blair did as much as / avoiding-tax cigarettes smuggled from eastern europe west of the ural mountains exchanged in belfast... but geographic borders were never used in rhetoric in politics... because ireland was always further west than iceland: as oaths go... it was a neighbour of liberty iseland... with the true statue of liberty in a moulin rouge cancan attire, skirt up, flame extinguished - although ***** as hell: and in koranic reality, requiring a harem for her three holes.
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 10:22 PM UTC
I have left, pig-mudding drunk,
having sipped from stock to stock on fraying cheer, stages.
I have stood in foreign basements; sweaty cellars of youth;
begot by attitude breeding spaces of the hip;
drawn circles searching for love in recreating nonsense:
a silly pupil, moon-eyed, out of breathe.
I have heard them quack, reveal their cords;
heard them whisper a thousand and one secrets,
heard them deconstruct their circumstances as pilgrims, penniless and sick.
I have their memories now, an image of a depressed,
ass-imprinted pillow soaked in liquor and a feeling of nausea
where ribs sleep on this couch tonight, every night.
I have heard one refute the weight of living, ******
on the banks of his best friends hospitality, and thought
How much is it worth?
And I have envied every **** greasy pored hipster,
the ones fixing on makingitnew now kind of clan; stared blankly at fashion,
a culture back door where pink fish scales sparkle high from runway halters
to the tops of grown men, bearded and chesty.
And your mothers pearls sit, not your mother’s pearls but your mother’s, mother’s pearls,
that old world clout ornamented around those hairy *******
Oh yes, I have seen men become peacocks, charmed animals of **********
seen them teeth at discourse in the noise they create, wide-mouthed and pointed;
I have seen them masked like frantic felines: wooly bully cats trying-to-roll their own meter,
their tobacco stained black charcoal over soft bricked lips quiver to their beats:
those painted lemmingings, without a parachute: kamikaze felons.
I have desired absolute sterility: white china,
in the egg of a toilet bowl I spewed out, shut-up my exuberance for the night;
sorry-pleaded my resolutions to gag out the naughty nouns in my life.
I have quit; turned in my lust for performing the lioness, paw-licking,
snarly creature: the predator of my youth, and now,
I am pretty-headed, tamed in bath oils and schedules;
a spotted fox, in plain view, one medium-sized mammal getting by.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 5:05 PM UTC
What is beauty?
Is is the piles and strokes of powder and paint we slick on our faces each morning, evening and night because we think it makes us look better?
Or is it our white, black, or yellow skin, maybe clear, covered in pimples or freckles, round, thin or a shape with no names?
Is beauty the so called 'perfect' women we see on the runway and on magazine covers, the women who starve themselves?
Maybe it's the women who weigh a ton or have to shop in the plus sizes, break a sweat when they climb a flight of stairs or order more than one main course at a restaurant?
Is beauty our skinny, chubby or obese faces, stomach or limbs, is weight merely just a number and what really matters is what we think of ourselves? What we see in the mirror every time we stare at our gorgeous bodies and faces no matter the appearance?
Is beauty the blue, green or brown in our eyes? The price of the clothes that we wear or the quality of our material possessions homes or cars?
No
For beauty is in the eyes of the beholder and if you let that beholder be someone that cannot really see what truly is inside of you...they don't matter
That beholder may be hard to find but someday you'll find someone that's kind and kind enough to say to you what everyone should hear once, twice, twenty times a day
They will say, baby you were born this way so stand up, be strong, smile that straight, crooked or brace-faced smile because it's the smile I dream of waking up to everyday
They will say, bat those beautiful lashes to show me those breath-taking eyes that I want to stare into for hours on end no matter the color
They will say give me a hug time and time again because I love having my arms around you no matter if I can feel your ribs or if my hands can't clasp together on the other side
You ask why?
Because you're beautiful
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 4:46 PM UTC
Murva fashion collection introduced at Eco Fashion Week has been a life long process for Ivana Knezovic, Creative Director / Designer. This was not only the 29 year old Croatian designer's first collection, but also her first international performance.
She debuted her eco-friendly collection titled Rust & Flow on the runway at Eco Fashion Week in Vancouver, Canada. Her pieces are all made from eco-friendly wool flannel.
Ivana Knezovic made interesting use of symmetrical lines, and I admired the draping from the shoulders framing a dress low-cut in back. One dress had several parallel vertical cut lines on the backside.
Many of her tops had capes, hang from one shoulder or both, paired with slim pants or a skirt. A nice touch of dramatic flare as the models moved down the runaway.
“Fashion design was always in me,” say Ivana Knezovic. Having resided in New York, Toronto, and Switzerland, designing was something she always wanted to do. "Murva is the name of a tree in my village. My company represents a return to my roots, to who I am at my core."
"I like structure. I like hiding the body behind some kind of a structure," said the designer who makes all her own clothes and cosmetics. "Eco is a product of maturity and of wholeness that you can only achieve when you really and truly grow up."
As a designer, she told me that she strives for “pure minimalism,” yet her eco-fashion designs are made for a sophisticated, minimalistic, and determined woman.
Exactly what the eco-fashion movement needs.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-2015
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
The glamour and glistening, the perfect touch,
the sound of applause at the runway strut.
The cloths the fashion, I love it all,
my favorite past time; the shopping mall.
when I go out into the light,
my looks tern heads. oh what a plight.
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 2:54 PM UTC
Purge your unclean self
Your existence does not depend
On the judgement of others
You are the beauty created
For something long before you were born
Life depends on you
You are what you aspire to look like
Appearances fail when you forget
That time is an illusion
Seasons are fleeting
But you will reign red-blooded
The eyes follow every angle
Seriously believe in your immortality
The skinny boy on the runway
Believes
Invincibility
Inevitably forever
This is heaven
This is hell
Death is forever
Life lasts beyond eons
Your beauty is worn on your soul
Be it an old familiar jacket
That has toured the world
Be it a minimalistic shift
Worn moments before you were deflowered
Photographs will create the verdict
You will be weighed
You will be measured
Perfection is possible
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
I woke up
in the midst of eight
sunlit is staring at me
through my windows
decisions are waiting.
Down below
people are crumbling
life is breathing.
Today is a fresh start
like models on runway
in this ***** street
fierce is indeed.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 9:04 PM UTC
Look upon all my beauty
I'm a traditional rhyme
Written so elegantly
Perfect in every line!
No, look at my free verse style!
I'm not prissy or fussy
I'm free as a bird with a free spirit
That flies within the realm
Of so many possibilities and directions!
Much less inhibited than you!
Nonsense! The camera flashes!
They are taking pictures of me!
Lovely, poetic form of old
Style, as pure as can be!
You're out of your mind!
You traditional snob!
All the oohs and aahs
Are really all for my poetic genius!
Move aside!
And so they soon got into a tussle, words flying everywhere....that is according to Free Verse
Traditional Rhyme felt so robbed
Free Verse, you trouble maker!
You may be the rage of the day!
But to me you are a faker!
Free Verse had such a harsh choke hold
On the throat of Traditional Rhyme
I can rhyme too... but not like you!
Perfectly? No! Not all of the time!
Traditional Rhyme called a truce
Finally accepting both ways
Sure, she had grace and she had style
But Free Verse would not go away
Jul 29, 2010
Jul 29, 2010 at 2:38 PM UTC
I adore women
I refuse to apologize for it
I like the way their voices squeak in the upper registers
I like the fashions
I like the makeup
I like the aromas
Not the silly runway catwalk Biz that relegates them as awkward mannequins
adorns them in the impractical
and cloaks them in the absurd overreaching of the tired clamoring for something
new and unique
that which exploits their lithesome anorexic perplexing job requirement
I like the way they can shape shift, alter and assume new identities
I like the fact that some have mood swings and ***
I marvel that they can give birth
I like being aware that their 'water-weight' make's them grumpy
I'm astonished that they innately ovulate with the cycles of the moon
and that the Huntress Diana inherently acquired her namesake
Doesn't bother me a bit that "it's a lady's prerogative to be late"
or that opening a door for them is considered 'sexist'
I was raised with a sister and a mother
with lace and dainty frilly things
I caused them a lot of aggravation and consternation
I think they enjoyed it - nonetheless
somewhat
I refuse to apologize for it
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 12:00 AM UTC
The oldest one has set the bar -
Brown eyes, brown hair, natural tan,
Teeth that look just the way teeth should with no aid from metal or NASA-patented plastics.
Kappa Alpha Theta, college homecoming queen,
Following in the footsteps of our parents,
To someday hand out bottles of pills with her God-given smile and white coat to match.
I know she's not perfect, but I like to pretend.
Then there's me.
Then the next youngest,
Long brown hair, massive brown eyes, pale skin with the occasional freckle.
Her awkward phase - back brace, teeth brace, allergies, inhaler, tall and gangly -
paid off in the best way.
She wears her high heels to high school and looks straight off the runway.
She wears her pointe shoes and unfolds like a plant growing in fast-motion.
She sits at the table and draws and eats nothing but carbs and still looks made of sticks.
She wants to be a cartoonist, people tell her to be a model, a ballerina,
Our mother insists she's far too brilliant.
Then the baby.
Thin blonde hair, blue-grey eyes with a ring on the outside, grey skin when she's tired.
As Dad says: the printer ran out of ink.
She's beautiful like the rest, of course, but
she's not finished yet, still learning that her peers are generally wrong.
She frets and worries, but she listens to the music I tell her to,
and her expensive pockets have less and less rhinestones.
I tell her not to hug me so much when I come home,
But it's fine. I'm proud of her.
Someday she'll stop screaming at our mother and realize what she has to look forward to.
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 1:39 PM UTC
With my face over her hair fallen neck
sending through my lips
what I’ve dreamed of compiled tastes
One arm wrapped her waist
The spinal curve of her back
Give-way my others embrace
In my palm falling slowly
with surrendered hold
Her reclining body takes plunge
A body wondrously dreamt by the Gods
but never to beholden
For that vessel has since long belonged
And in a quiet covet,
the Gods continue to sin
Over and across the bed
Released from my grip
Upwards into her hairline
a sweat spreading mist
Grabbing a fistful of mane
I’d lay down on the runway to attain
this flowing coat between my fingers
For the length of time
her hair has entwined me in cuffs
Pulling harder
I gladly yield in acceptance
this braid given stain
a permanent scar
Slow let go of her feathers tangled
In her neck I’m keeping
a burrow in repose
Seeing buttons undone in sync
to expose
The destination of my lips next imprint
like advanced shadowing hints
In a mechanical motion
Hair pulling emotion
Triggers upward
her chest and chin
Two spotlights on the ceiling what her ******* up send
Shaping her back an arc
like a half moons descent
When she finishes her unbuttoning
Next for my belt she reaches
then the unzip I’ll never forget
She takes me in invest
I take her in continuous shooting
All the unfastened
unclothed
Now Firm
Quake
Earned
And Shake
The peak is reached from this encounter
defined by a collection of far to many lustfully seductive
mental hive of trapped aches
Then I kiss her lips in return she kisses me back, felt...
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 7:08 PM UTC
Toned, muscular, powerful beasts.
This is the way the world chooses to see.
Outraged, aggression, and dangerous too.
Scared one day, they might bite you.
Not even a second, by the looks, instant fear.
This so called 'reputation' makes us tear.
Continue to breed,
Continue to Buy.
Opt. to put them on a chain so tight.
Opt. to make them fight.
Judging them, at just first sight.
Not bad dogs, just bad owners.
When will the world see the light?
Toned, masculine, powerful features.
Beautiful and intelligent creatures.
Ever so loving, ever so loyal.
So goofy, and eager to please.
Eager to love, Eager for affection.
This is the way the world should see.
A family dog, a protector.
A comedian in ways.
A runway model with natural beauty.
A visitor, for those in pain and lonely.
A caregiver for rehabilitation.
A simple, lasting smile,
A kind that sparks and stays for awhile.
A partner against crime.
A team mate whose there all the time.
A worker, a player to love you at best.
A companion beyond special.
A dog, beyond the rest.
A love, in life, with whatever is next.
A best friend, to say the least.
A Staffies not A beast.
Staffies are the best.
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 8:03 AM UTC