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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Shrinking
Have you ever had that feeling
you are growing,
or is it your clothes are shrinking?
You know when your trouser bottoms
start creeping up to your knees,
or your shirt sleeves
start climbing up to your elbows,
or your waistline begins to grow,
but your belt hangs loose,
or your chest is expanding
because the buttons keep popping of your shirt.
Oh yea, I know that feeling ever so well
as it happens to me all the time
just after my wife does the washing.
She follows the instructions to the letter,
but still they begin to shrink.
Nothing is unshrinkable when she goes to wash,
except once.
There always has to be one exception.
I had a nice towelin shirt
and when she had finished with it,
the shirt touched my knees
and looked like I was wearing a skirt.
Here I am six foot three,
yet my clothes will fit someone three feet three
and a lot thinner than me.
Now I am at my wits end wondering just what to do.
It feels like playing Russian roulette
when the next wash begins.
31 January 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tuck Your Shirt In
My name is Holly
And I like
I'm so glad that you asked me out tonight
Our conversation over dinner was really nice
But don't forget you still owe me dessert
It's 12 we missed the late show
So let's head over to this joint that I know
Everytime I take someone it's always such a ride
But there's a dress code
You've got to follow
There's no exceptions
And once you're in
If you want TMA
You better need to be
Oh baby
But before you enter
Tuck your shirt in
No way you'll get rid of
Other clothes
If you don't follow this
One moment
Tuck your shirt in
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la
We're probably gonna need to call a cab
Ten minute walk over there and back
But I think it's best we
Save our energy
Tonight I'm really on the grind
Otherwise I'd normally wait a while
Before I'd ask
Somebody to my party
But there's a dress code
You've got to follow
There's no exceptions
And once you're in
If you want TMA
You better need to be
Oh baby
But before you enter
Tuck your shirt in
No way you'll get rid of
Other clothes
If you don't follow this
One moment
Tuck your shirt in
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la
But there's a dress code
You've got to follow
There's no exceptions
And once you're in
If you want TMA
You better need to be
Oh baby
But before you enter
Tuck your shirt in
No way you'll get rid of
Other clothes
If you don't follow this
One moment
Tuck your shirt in
TMA
You better need to be
Oh baby
But before you enter
Tuck your shirt in
No way you'll get rid of
Other clothes
If you don't follow this
One moment
Tuck your shirt in
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la
song performed by by Holly Valance from Footprints
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Shirt
The buttonholes were empty.
The buttons had all let go.
The shirt was now a remnant,
one he did outgrow.
The sleeves were short so he rolled them.
The plaid material was faded.
Now it was getting much too tight
as he saw his name brocaded.
The name was what she called him,
'Sonny, sonny boy.'
Her voice came back when he wore it.
It was a sound of joy.
He would have to give up wearing it
and pray that she would know
that no other shirt he'd ever wear
were what her hands did sew.
Mom. dear mom you come alive
everytime I see that shirt.
It helps me when I'm missing you.
It takes away the hurt.
Every other shirt that I have worn
could never quite replace
the feeling I get when I see it
for I see your loving face.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wearing A Shirt
It is better to wear a shirt to protect your happiness,
The wearing of an item of clothing like this one is immense.
We stagger and wait more than others, wearing shirts and trousers,
Still this happened a long time ago, once when the sea opened.
The land was for joyous fuelling, readying with swords and weapons,
By the way, it was clothing on the way home.
It was bitter so much like sour fruit, inside was a yearning,
Too late was the bereavement of a shirt.
The immense puzzle was solved on the way home,
A vehicle stuns us amazingly in the worst possible touch.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Look Good In My Shirt
When you walked up behind me and covered my eyes
And whispered in my ear, guess who
I rattled off names like I really didnt know
But all along I knew it was you
And, the longer we talked, the more we laughed
And wondered why we didnt last
It had been a long time, but later last night
Baby, we caught up real fast
And maybe its a little too early
To know if this is gonna work
All I know is youre sure looking
Good in my shirt
Thats right
You look good in my shirt
Well now Im not saying that we solved overnight
Every way that we went wrong
Oh, but what Im seeing Id sure love seeing
Every morning from now on
And maybe its a little too early
To know if this is gonna work
All I know is youre sure looking
Good in my shirt
Cmon now
Aww thats right
Oh you look so fine
And maybe its a little too early
To know if this is gonna work
All I know is youre sure looking
Good in my shirt
And maybe its a little too early
To know if this is gonna work
All I know is youre sure looking
Good in my shirt
You look good in my shirt
You look good in my shirt
song performed by by Keith Urban
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Rondeau
To iron a shirt, first lightly spray,
then left and right hand interplay;
with one to press and one to lead,
the path's prepared, the creases freed
and gathered wrinkles fade away.
The woman's old, in slow decay,
she's taken care of every day,
yet restless hands still feel the need
to iron a shirt.
Her mind now tends to disarray,
yet sometimes skills, long practiced, stay
and though she lacks her former speed,
her family and friends concede,
she's always known the proper way
to iron a shirt.
poem by Diane Hine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nothings Worth More Than You....
What went wrong
I'm still confused
You cheated, you lied
You had me all bruised.
I know you meant
When you said you do
Those vows, those promises
Your love was true.
Why did you go
And did what you've done
You made me snatch myself
From you and away run.
Here I'm alone in our room
Starring at the wrinkles of the bedsheet
That you've left behind
For me to stare and read.
I'm wearing an oversize shirt
That to you belong
That I everytime wear
After us getting along.
Peeping in the mirror
All I can see is me
Stading alone, looking back
A scene that has never meant to be.
I look at my lips
And suddenly my body shivers
At the feeling of your finger tips
A sensation to forget never.
I look at my neck
Suddenly do I gasp
Your lips circling its base
What more could I ask?
I look at my waist
I feel myself grabbed tight
In your palms, in a haste
I feel your impatience building inside.
I look at my eyes
Dry and desperate
I miss you, I cannot hide
I want you now, alright?
The scars you've left
They still hurt
Your memories, your love
Your oversize shirt.
Baby, why did you do this?
Wasn't I enough?
I know you meant
When you said me you loved.
I'm standing here broke
Lost and confused
Wondering whats worth
The pain you gave or you.......
What is worth?
Nothings worth more than you
I grab my phone
'Baby, its okay, I forgive you.'
poem by Jaya Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problem
I've been up to my neck workin 6 days a week
wearin holes into the shoes on my feet
been dreamin of gettin away since i dont know
Aint no better time than now..for mexico
No shoes, No shirt, No problems
Blues what blues..hey i forgot them
The sun and the sand and a drink in my hand with no bottom
and no shirt, no shirt, and no problems!
No problems
Want a towel on a chair in the sand by the sea
want to look thru my shades and see you there with me
Want to soak up life for a while
In laid back mode
No boss, no polite, no stress, no dress code
No shoes, no shirt, no problems
Blues what blues hey i forgot them
The sun and the sand and a drink in my hand with no bottom
and no shoes, no shirt, and no problems
Babe lets get packed..tank tops and flip flops if u got them
No shoes, no shirt, no problems
No problems
song performed by by Kenny Chesney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problems
Ive been up to my neck workin 6 days a week
Wearin holes into the shoes on my feet
Been dreamin of gettin away since I dont know
Aint no better time than now..for mexico
No shoes, no shirt, no problems
Blues what blues..hey I forgot them
The sun and the sand and a drink in my hand with no bottom
And no shirt, no shirt, and no problems!
No problems
Want a towel on a chair in the sand by the sea
Want to look thru my shades and see you there with me
Want to soak up life for a while
In laid back mode
No boss, no polite, no stress, no dress code
No shoes, no shirt, no problems
Blues what blues hey I forgot them
The sun and the sand and a drink in my hand with no bottom
And no shoes, no shirt, and no problems
Babe lets get packed..tank tops and flip flops if u got them
No shoes, no shirt, no problems
No problems.
song performed by by Kenny Chesney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Your Pants Begin to Go
When you wear a cloudy collar and a shirt that isn't white,
And you cannot sleep for thinking how you'll reach to-morrow night,
You may be a man of sorrows, and on speaking terms with Care,
And as yet be unacquainted with the Demon of Despair;
For I rather think that nothing heaps the trouble on your mind
Like the knowledge that your trousers badly need a patch behind.
I have noticed when misfortune strikes the hero of the play,
That his clothes are worn and tattered in a most unlikely way;
And the gods applaud and cheer him while he whines and loafs around,
And they never seem to notice that his pants are mostly sound;
But, of course, he cannot help it, for our mirth would mock his care,
If the ceiling of his trousers showed the patches of repair.
You are none the less a hero if you elevate your chin
When you feel the pavement wearing through the leather, sock, and skin;
You are rather more heroic than are ordinary folk
If you scorn to fish for pity under cover of a joke;
You will face the doubtful glances of the people that you know;
But -- of course, you're bound to face them when your pants begin to go.
If, when flush, you took your pleasures -- failed to make a god of Pelf,
Some will say that for your troubles you can only thank yourself --
Some will swear you'll die a beggar, but you only laugh at that,
While your garments hand together and you wear a decent hat;
You may laugh at their predictions while your soles are wearing low,
But -- a man's an awful coward when his pants begin to go.
Though the present and the future may be anything but bright,
It is best to tell the fellows that you're getting on all right,
And a man prefers to say it -- 'tis a manly lie to tell,
For the folks may be persuaded that you're doing very well;
But it's hard to be a hero, and it's hard to wear a grin,
When your most important garment is in places very thin.
Get some sympathy and comfort from the chum who knows you best,
That your sorrows won't run over in the presence of the rest;
There's a chum that you can go to when you feel inclined to whine,
He'll declare your coat is tidy, and he'll say: `Just look at mine!'
Though you may be patched all over he will say it doesn't show,
And he'll swear it can't be noticed when your pants begin to go.
Brother mine, and of misfortune! times are hard, but do not fret,
Keep your courage up and struggle, and we'll laugh at these things yet,
Though there is no corn in Egypt, surely Africa has some --
Keep your smile in working order for the better days to come!
We shall often laugh together at the hard times that we know,
And get measured by the tailor when our pants begin to go.
......
Now the lady of refinement, in the lap of comfort rocked,
Chancing on these rugged verses, will pretend that she is shocked.
Leave her to her smelling-bottle; 'tis the wealthy who decide
That the world should hide its patches 'neath the cruel look of pride;
And I think there's something noble, and I swear there's nothing low,
In the pride of Human Nature when its pants begin to go.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sweet Lil Gal (23rd/1st)
Fair haired gal
You got a sister that's mean
Hanging around the cigarette machine
But when I'm lonely she makes me feel nice
When I'm lonely she makes me feel nice
Steals my shirt, makes me hurt
In the field where my plane went down
In the field where my plane went down
Sweet lil gal
Sweet lil gal
Everything's gold when she comes to me
Lay there for days on the floor with my things
But when you're lonely she makes me feel nice
When you're lonely she makes me feel nice
Steals my shirt
23rd and 1st
In the field where my plane went down
In the field where my plane went down
Sweet lil gal.
Sweet lil gal.
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Lil Gal
Fair haired gal
You got a sister thats mean
Hanging around the cigarette machine
But when Im lonely she makes me feel nice
When Im lonely she makes me feel nice
Steals my shirt makes me hurt
In the field where my plane went down
In the field where my plane went down
Sweet lil gal
Sweet lil gal
Everythings gold when she comes to me
Lay there for days on the floor with my things
But when youre lonely she makes me feel nice
When youre lonely she makes me feel nice
Steals my shirt
23rd and 1st
In the field where my plane went down
In the field where my plane went down
Sweet lil gal
Sweet lil gal
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wear My Hat
She came looking for me with her arms open wide,
Like some long lost friend of mine.
She said excuse me, but do you remember me ?
I said no, I dont believe I do
So she looked me up and down
And undressed me with her eyes,
Then she said youve got everything I need, youve got everything I want
So I said ok,
You can wear my hat,
You can have my coat,
You can take my shirt
cos I dont need it.
You can wear my shoes,
You can take my socks,
Come on take my bag its yours
If you love it,
You can have it if you love it,
Aint no problem if you love it,
Come on take it if you love it.
So her friend came up to me
With a pen and paper in her hand,
Expressing some interest in the number of my room,
She said excuse me, but do you remember me?
I said no, she said can I appeal to you?
So I looked her up and down
And realising her insinuations I blushed
She said listen babe you dont know me,
No you dont know me but you owe me,
And I love you,
Yes I love you,
Put your arms around me cos I love you,
I got all your records and I love you
So I suggested
You can wear my hat,
You can have my coat,
You can take my shirt
cos I dont need it.
You can wear my shoes,
You can take my socks,
Come on take my bag its yours
If you love it,
You can have it if you love it,
Aint no problem if you love it,
Come on take it if you love it.
Well later on that day this guy came to me
With a scrap of paper in his hand
He said hey buddy can you sign your name for me?
I said why, do I owe you money? he said no
I said listen pal do I know you? have we ever met?
Why do you want my name on this little piece of paper?
He said i love you,
I dont know you but I love you,
Like my brother I love you,
Put your arms around me cos I love you
I said hey lets not rush things
You can wear my hat,
You can have my coat,
You can take my shirt
cos I dont need it.
You can wear my shoes,
You can take my socks,
Come on take my bag its yours
If you love it,
You can have it if you love it,
Aint no problem if you love it,
Come on take it if you love it.
You can wear my hat,
You can wear my hat,
You can wear my hat,
Come on wear my hat.
song performed by by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Summer Teeth
Like a cloud his fingers explode
On the typewriter ribbon, the shadow grows
His hearts in a bowl behind the bank
And every evening when he get home
To make his supper and eat it alone
His black shirt cries
While his shoes get cold
It's just a dream he keeps having
And it doesn't seem to mean anything
And it doesn't seem to mean anything
One summer, a suicide
Another autumn, a travelers guide
He hits snooze twice before he dies
And every evening when he get home
To make his supper and eat it alone
His black shirt cries
While his shoes get cold
It's just a dream he keeps having
And it doesn't seem to mean anything
It's just a dream he keeps having
He feels lucky to have you here
In his kitchen, in your chair
Sometimes he forgets that you're even there
It's just a dream he keeps having
And it doesn't seem to mean anything
It's just a dream he keeps having
It's just a dream
And it doesn't seem to mean anything
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Be No. 1
Music : peter wolf, matthias jabs
Lyrics: klaus meine
Give me a job
The one i havn't got
Don't write me off at anytime
Don't ever leave me unsatisfied
I don't wanna come in a second
I just wanna come
Don't wanna be the last in line
Don't wanna be just left behind
And in the evening when i come home
It is time to throw my dog a bone
That's when i wear my shirt that says
In capital letters in capital letters
Isn't it fun fun fun to be number one
(he's got no job, got no blow got no monica to go to)
Isn't it fun fun fun to be number one
(he's a superstar, wunderbar, out of touch too much)
Don't tell me i'm small
An inch too short
I might not be your size but i'm sure great
And definitely underpaid
So give me a job
The one i haven't got
Don't tell me i'm too poor to join the club
To hang out with the big shots
And in the evening when i come home
It is time to give my dog a bone
That's when i wear my shirt that says
In capital letters in capital letters
Isn't it fun fun fun to be number one
(he's got no job, got no blow, got no monica to go to)
Isn't it fun fun fun to be number one
(he's a v.i.p. wannabe, all he ever wants is)
Isn't it fun fun fun to be number one
Isn't it fun fun fun yeah to be number one
(he's a v.i.p. wannabe all he ever wants is)
To be number one
And in the evening when i come home
It is time to throw my dog a bone
That's when i wear my shirt that says
In capital letters in capital letters
Isn't it fun fun fun to be number one
(he's got no job, got no blow got no monica to go to)
Isn't it fun fun fun yeah to be number one
(he's a superstar, wunderbar, out of touch too much)
Isn't it fun fun fun to be number one
Isn't it fun fun fun fun to be number one
To be number one
(fun, fun, fun)
To be number one
To be number one
(he's got no job, got no blow got no monica to go to)
To be number one
To be number one
(he's a superstar, wunderbar, out of touch too much)
To be number one
To be number one
(he's got no job, got no blow got no monica to go to)
Yeah
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Guilt
i know how it feels,
for i also know how to junk someone like a
hot potato,
i know how it feels to reject a certain value
and i know how to come back at it
without its knowing,
i begin to be interested at it
familiarize myself with its pungency
and memorize its color
i kiss its traces and hug
the old unwashed shirt hanging
inside the drawer
i also know how to leave
close the door and
tell myself, i will not come back to this place anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Shepherd
He wore an old blue shirt the night that first we met,
An old and tattered cabbage-tree concealed his locks of jet;
His footsteps had a languor, his voice a husky tone;
Both man and dog were spent with toil as they slowly wandered home.
I saw him but a moment—yet methinks I see him now
While his sheep were gently feeding 'neath the rugged mountain brow.
When next we met, the old blue shirt and cabbage-tree were gone;
A brand new suit of tweed and "Doctor Dod" he had put on;
Arm in arm with him was one who strove, and not in vain,
To ease his pockets of their load by drinking real champagne.
I saw him but a moment, and he was going a pace,
Shouting nobbler after nobbler, with a smile upon his face.
When next again I saw that man his suit of tweed was gone,
The old blue shirt and cabbage-tree once more he had put on;
Slowly he trudged along the road and took the well-known track
From the station he so lately left with a swag upon his back.
I saw him but a moment as he was walking by
With two black eyes and broken nose and a tear-dropp in his eye.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Can Be Disastrous....
do not attempt
to wear my shirt
it may be
calamitous
do not steal my hands
it will be disastrous
for what you desire
to hold
shall turn to stone
what you kiss
shall turn into a snake
and it will bite you
as it has bitten me
many times have i suffered
escaped death like a magician
what you eat
shall turn into wind
how can you be satisfied?
you shall be in
eternal thirst and hunger
no one has the power
to fulfill your desires
or your dreams or your
queries
do not borrow my pair of
shoes
it can burn your feet
it may cut your toes
into pieces
by now you must have
wondered
how i survive all my
years
you see it is not easy
never been smooth and easy
i never lived a life like
that
and you may never believe
it
now that i am old
and shall die in any hour
of my choosing
burn everything i leave
behind
forget every memory that
i have given you
my shoes, my shirt, my hands
my mind, my dreams,
do not forget my eyes
do not be misled by its visions
burn them thoroughly and
throw all the ashes to the
far ocean
of this earth
do not fish there
it can still be disastrous.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Why Do I
why do I think of him all day long
why cant I get him off my mind
why do I wait all day for a five minute call
why do I count the days since I have seen him
why when I close my eyes I see him
why do I dream of his incredible kiss
why do I still feel his fiery touch
why dose my heart stop every time he takes his shirt off
why do butterfly's invade my stomach every time he smiles at me
why dose his laughter shoot a lightening bolt into my soul
why dose his voice sound like magical music to my ears
how dose he make me feel like I'm the most beautiful women in the world
why do I feel free like wild mistletoe making a bridge over a rushing river to a meadow of roses when I'm with him
why do I take him back even after I said I wouldn’t
how dose he still my heart away
how did he still my heart away
why do I question if I'm worth him
why do I down my self if he doesn’t call
why do I doubt if he likes me or not
how dose he make me feel pretty when I'm with him
why do I feel content when I'm with him
why did I not feel guilty for kissing him
why do I like him
why do I trust him
why do I wont to do things with him so badly that it feels like someone is playing hot potato with fire balls in my stomach
why is it that every time he touches me I feel like where he touches me is on fire
why dose his kiss make me feel like I’m floating on the clouds and sliding on rainbows
why do I dream of him when I sleep
why do I wake up and feel him
why do I want to spend all my time with him
why do I want to give him all I can
why would I sacrifice my life for his happiness
why would I give almost anything to see him to touch his unbelievably sexy body to kiss his fiery more experienced lips and to be one with him
whatever the answers are to the questions I have
I’ll find them one day
everyone one day will find out all the answers
to all the questions
they have in there life
the answers I find will lead to more questions
and more answers
but one day I will have no more questions
so I will not have to ask
why do I...
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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