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Wot a Pair
I waz walking down Wyefront street
When me trousers ran away,
I waz feeling incomplete
But still me trousers would not stay,
When I found where they had gone
De pair addressed me rather blunt,
And they told me they were sick of being put on
Back to front.
I told dem I would treat dem good
And wear dem back to back,
I promised dem protection
From a friend who is a mac,
Me trousers did not believe a single word I had to say,
And me underpants were laughing
When me trousers ran away.
poem by Benjamin Zephaniah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Naked Ape!
Imagine if a Llama wore pajamas
or a Leopard put a cap upon his head.
Just think about a kangaroo in trousers
or a sheep all shorn in little skirt and vest.
Most animals would look a tad alarming
in any sort of formal wear or cloth,
but take a human being wearing nothing
now that would be quite shocking at the shops.
Imagine you or I, all bare and naked,
no underwear, no trousers and no socks.
Our faces would turn pink to think about it
but a monkey really couldn't give a toss.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Soily
People gathered here tonight,
I want you to listen to me!
To your left and to you right,
Youve got some pretty soily company.
Reader, writer, farmer, priest,
Breed controler, born deceased.
Indian, lawyer, doctor, dog,
And a plumber with a fattened hog.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily,
You know hes right.
Romans, italians, country men,
I want you to listen to me!
Ive said it twice and Ill say it again,
Weve got some pretty soily company.
Liar, cheater, jungle chief,
Saint, believer on relief.
Action painter, hitlers son,
And a commie with a tommy gun.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily,
Oh yeah, yeah, yeah.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never wear your best trousers when you go out to fight for freedom and truth.
quote by Henrik Ibsen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A man with trousers that are too short should wear long suspenders.
Snap (Fun Poem 125)
Woke up and had a shower
felt great and refreshed,
laid my clothes out
and started to get dressed.
Dragged on my trousers
and then pulled on my belt.
Snap!
I stood there with half a belt in my hand
and my trousers around my ankles.
Now I need a length of string
to hold my trousers up.
Looks like it gonna be
a new belt day today.
(7 July 2011)
poem by David Harris
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Red And Brown
- Why do you always wear the red shirt?
- They assert that…it’s to avert the fright of seeing blood
when I am wounded.
I am quite salted and not a crud.
- Now I understand your point of view.
Looking at you a picture I drew:
You always wear the brown trousers
for not having any moral traumas.
The outflow of your shit nothing will show,
But ….only your crow.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 7th of January,2012
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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A Song For Kilts
How grand the human race would be
If every man would wear a kilt,
A flirt of Tartan finery,
Instead of trousers, custom built!
Nay, do not think I speak to joke:
(You know I'm not that kind of man),
I am convinced that all men folk.
Should wear the costume of a Clan.
Imagine how it's braw and clean
As in the wind it flutters free;
And so conducive to hygiene
In its sublime simplicity.
No fool fly-buttons to adjust,--
Wi' shanks and maybe buttocks bare;
Oh chiels, just take my word on trust,
A bonny kilt's the only wear.
'Twill save a lot of siller too,
(And here a canny Scotsman speaks),
For one good kilt will wear you through
A half-a-dozen pairs of breeks.
And how it's healthy in the breeze!
And how it swings with saucy tilt!
How lassies love athletic knees
Below the waggle of a kilt!
True, I just wear one in my mind,
Since sent to school by Celtic aunts,
When girls would flip it up behind,
Until I begged for lowland pants.
But now none dare do that to me,
And so I sing with lyric lilt,--
How happier the world would be
If every male would wear a kilt!
poem by Robert William Service
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Baggy Trousers
Naughty boys in nasty schools
Headmasters breaking all the rules
Having fun and playing fools
Smashing up the woodwork tools
All the teachers in the pub
Passing round the ready-rub
Trying not to think of when
The lunch-time bell will ring again.
Oh what fun we had
But, did it really turn out bad
All I learnt at school
Was how to bend not break the rules
Oh what fun we had
But at the time it seemed so bad
Trying different ways
To make a difference to the days.
Headmasters had enough to-day
All the kids have gone away
Gone to fight with next-doors school
Every term, that is the rule
Sits alone and bends his cane
Same old backsides again
All the small ones tell tall tales
Walking home and squashing snails.
Oh what fun we had
But, did it really turn out bad
All I learnt at school
Was how to bend not break the rules
Oh what fun we had
But at the time it seemed so bad
Trying different ways
To make a difference to the days.
Lots of girls and lots of boys
Lots of smells and lots of noise
Playing football in the park
Kicking pushbikes after dark
Baggy trousers, dirty shirt
Pulling hair and eating dirt
Teacher comes to break it up
Back of the ead with a plastic cup.
Oh what fun we had
But, did it really turn out bad
All I learnt at school
Was how to bend not break the rules
Oh what fun we had
But at the time it seemed so bad
Trying different ways
To make a difference to the days.
Baggy trousers, baggy trousers, baggy trousers
Baggy trousers, baggy trousers, baggy trousers
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Wing And A Prayer
I heard someone talking
about kids and what they wear.
They said they walk about these days
wearing nothing but a wing and a prayer.
I smiled to myself at that remark
because it was obviously they had forgot
about the clothes they used to wear.
So before we are quick to condemn
lets take a trip down memory lane,
back to the clothes we used to wear
when we were that age
and to the designs that were all the rage.
Suppose we go back to the sixties
now that was a good time,
the Mods and the Rockers,
scooters and motorbikes,
not to forget Flower Power.
Oh, yes I remember it well.
The drainpipe trousers,
sitting in the bath
to shrink the jeans down,
not forgetting the holy vest and long hair,
brothel creepers and winkle picker shoes,
and that was just the boys.
What about the girls with their skirts?
There was the maxi, the mini and the micro,
the latter once described as nothing more than a long scarf.
So before we condemn the youngsters today
for going around with nothing but a wing and a prayer, l
et us not forget what we used to wear.
I can remember my parents saying
your showing your knee
now that is so shocking.
Today people look at youngsters
saying it wasn’t like that in my day.
Don’t you believe it,
we were just as bad,
and we were just as crazy as kids today.
When it came to our clothes,
we have no right to condemn
for whatever they wear.
We were just the same at their age,
we used to wear
nothing more than a wing and a prayer.
We called it Fashion
way, way back then,
the same as they call it now.
poem by David Harris
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Vegetable Man
In yellow shoes I get the blues
Though I walk the streets with my plastic feet
With my blue velvet trousers, make me feel pink
Theres a kind of stink about blue velvet trousers
In my paisley shirt I look a jerk
And my turquoise waistcoat is quite out of sight
But oh oh my haircut looks so bad
Vegetable man how are you?
So Ive changed my dear, and I find my knees,
And I covered them up with the latest cut,
And my pants and socks all point in a box,
They dont make long of my nylon socks,
The watch, black watch
My watch with a black face
And a big pin, a little hole,
And all the lot is what I got,
Its what I wear, its what you see,
It must be me, its what I am,
Vegetable man.
Ive been looking all over the place for a place for me,
But it aint anywhere, it just aint anywhere.
Vegetable man, vegetable man,
Hes the kind of person, you just gonna see him if you can,
Vegetable man.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Grow Old
i grow old, i grow old
i shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled
and steal from TS Eliot
thinking no-one knows
i grow old, i grow old
i shall cease to do what i am told
and stay in bed till sunset
when the weather gets too cold
i grow old, i grow old
i shall only wear my crumpled clothes
and look disdainfully at others
when they roll up their nose
i grow old, i grow old
i shall watch events unfold
and take a greater pleasure
in an elder statesman role.
i grow old, i grow old
i shall never play lawn bowls
and never will watch cricket
that's too boring for the soul.
i grow old, i grow old
but i shall never be so bold
as to admonish others
when my views they do not hold.
poem by David Keig
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You Wear It So Well
All of those things
Yeah, that you got to give
Yeah, you wear it so well
Hey, you wear it so well
All of those stories
Honey, that i know you could tell
Yeah, you wear it so well
And your face hides it so we can't tell
That you knew we would wear it so well
You wear it so well
Yeah darling, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Yeah baby, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Yeah now baby, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Hey now darling now, yeah, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
All of those things
That make poets sing
You wear it so well
Yeah, you hide it so well
And all of those pain
That you used to tell
You hide it so well
Can't tell from your face that you knew it so well
Hey, now that you have such a story to tell
Yeah, you got style and grace and you wear it so well
You wear it so well
And you got, you got such a story to tell
Yeah, yeah, yeah, you wear it so well
Grace and style equals you so well
Yeah, yeah, yeah, you wear it so well, well, yeah, so well
Yeah, you wear it, wear it, wear it now, wear it now, baby
Yeah, now you wear it so well
And you got such a story to tell
(ooohhh, ooohhh, ooohhh)
(ooohhh, you wear it so well)
(you wear it so well)
(you wear it so well)
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The missing
I was missing...
I was missing...
At my self
I was missing...
Wear is i am...?
wear is i am...?
Asking for my mind
Any time...
I am missing...
For my sence...
Wear i am...?
My work...
my money...
my poem's...
my dayana...
Wear i am...
Wear...?
I was leave
At me...
But...
I was searching
For the world drama...
I was search
Wear i am...?
My answer is;
'Missing...! '
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Vest
Why do you wear a vest?
Do you really need to wear it?
When you come to me…
Don’t you think it prevents me
From accessing you directly?
Come to me only with your
Buttoned up tucked in shirt,
Leave the rest to me…
What to do, how to do,
How long and how well to do.
The whys, hows and wherefores
Of doing things to you…
And when I do those things to you,
You’ll come back to me again
And again and again, and those
Endless times and again…
With that vestless shirt of yours
So that I could do those things
To you, unbuttoning so many ways
Of seeking the pleasures in you.
Don’t tell me where to begin.
I know the beginnings and the endings
The tops, the bottoms and the tips
The line breaks and the paragraphs
The commas, semi colons and full stops
All that punctuates to the last dot.
Not to forget your quest of queries
And my answers of exclamations!
I can do it in pairs or in singles
I know all the mixes and the mingles
I know what jerks and jingles!
I just know what you want
I can see it in your eyes…
I can feel it in your quivering voice
I can hear it in your ecstatic cries.
Let me practise before the final play
Let me trace you in your clothes -
And see what your shirt and trousers
Say! Hmmm…Feels Nice.
Doesn’t it? What? You loved it!
Wao! When? Oh, Yes!
I know that feels Nice.
When I touch you on those
Tips of yours, in the collars
And the pockets, on the left,
The right, the sides and the folds
Of that vestless shirt of yours -
And the pivots of your trousers.
Let’s get this over now.
Lots of practice had its way
Let’s now begin the final play
I know and I can feel that Bulge.
The Zip is panting to give you way
But it has to wait, you see…
For the buttons need to be undone
One by one, don’t make haste
Relax…slow down, breathe in,
Breathe out, savour every moment
Of your vestless shirt’s seduction
As the Fun has only just begun!
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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I Wear A Smile
I wear a smile
that never reach my eyes.
I wear a smile
that feels misplaced.
I wear a smile
that is completely fake.
I wear a smile
to drown my sorrow.
I wear a smile
but i'm so numb.
One day this mask will break,
but then it will be too late.
poem by Precious Arroyo
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For Posterity
He fell backwards into quick drying cement.
It was something that he hadn’t meant
to do. For his trousers started setting fast,
and ended up looking like a plaster cast.
A stonemason was found to chip away
at this solid mass of clayey grey.
His legs were feeling not quite his own.
He felt like a statue carved from stone.
Finally his limbs were at last released.
His trousers, surprisingly, were not creased.
Two buttock shapes were in concrete created
Something that made him feel very deflated.
For nobody else with any temerity. could say,
Their posterior was preserved for posterity, this way.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Extinct Family
Say lovely lady, can you help a gentleman safely cross the street?
Escort him home at night, treat him to dinner by romantic candlelight
Emancipation reigns supreme
She wears the trousers, skirts are rarely seen
Emancipation reigns supreme
Its just a matter of time for men to become extinct finally
Say, whats for dinner honey?
No, he will never say those words again
Be quiet when she gets home
In this feminine system youd better leave her alone
Emancipation reigns supreme
She wears the trousers, skirts are rarely seen
Emancipation reigns supreme
Its just a matter of time for men to become extinct finally
Men extinct finally, gone
She wears the trousers, Kate Bush for president
song performed by by Undeclinable Ambuscade
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Womens Next
womens are
not sexy wear...
womens are
not beauty wear...
womens are not
funny wear...
womens are not
hotty wear...
womens are
a power wear..
in another world...
not only child birth
with hands
with brain
with works
with loves
make a new world...
tommrow...
that is day near...
very near...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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