About The Boy
the door was locked
and the boy has nowhere to go
except the closet filled with
clothes
the tongue of the devil came
and devoured them all
clothes and all
his screams faded like
sunset
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Closet
In the closet hung her dresses
and her shoes were on the floor.
She would not wear the dresses now
nor the shoes anymore.
He could not give her clothes away.
He smelled them everyday.
In the closet hung her robes
and nightgowns that were sheer.
She would not wear them in the nights,
her nights no longer here.
He could not give them all away.
He fingered them every day.
In the closet he felt close to her
and spoke in whispered word.
'I remember how you looked in these.'
He spoke as if she heard.
'I cannot give your clothes away.
They're all I have of you today.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Open The Door - IV
Mom! Open the door
I have been waiting on the door
It is chilly cold, havn't sufficient clothes
Mom! please open the door
the sun is on head
may i get stroke
Mom! please open the door
Mom! open the door
it is raining cats and dogs
my clothes are fully drenched
Mom! please open the door
Don't be so truculent
I shalt be thy obedient son
Please open the door
poem by Ramesh Rai
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The Secrets That You Keep
it is when everyone leaves the room
when everyone goes to their respective places
that one gets to account for the secrets
the fingers begin to count
the heart to beat and the body undresses its own skin
one faces the mirror
and sees the skeletons
in the closet the new clothes are wary to be given attention
'me now? ' i need a structure for my clothes so i may have the shape
you choose, as one by one you take the cartilages and flesh
some toes and nails
to compose yourself again
one takes the mask
the one that they shall love
and the clothes acceptable for the next party
and when they come
the conversations begin
'how nice have you grown' and you compliment too
'well this has always been me' and then you sip the tea
both of you are suspicious
but who cares? the party begins.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Life
well folded clothes
in the closet
half-opening to
the marital bed
it is more of the
window not the door
more of the wing
not the claws
it is the bird
beside a pane
looking forward to
the best journey
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dark
What will I do with a fountain
of time
my silence
is a well without a dropp of water
I can weep in the dark
weep and its silence will hear me
but it will close its eyes
it will not speak
the evening will tread on
quietly an old man
it will walk on without looking back
without seeing where its shadow
sleeps
and I can say wait where
are you going
and I can think of all the places I can think of
I can think of walls walls walls
of walls behind which anything lurks
I can lock myself
in a closet full of clothes not my size
fill my pockets with dust
or take off my clothes and imagine
my skin is ice
and I will be standing here
where I am standing stepping on moments
that sharpen into hours like thorns
into my feet
the wound in my heart is deep
the pain does not answer to any name
where is the door
the window the door
*reprinted from a friend
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Fool No More
Written by peter green.
Yes, Ive packed up my clothes
Im moving away from your door
Lord, Ive packed up my clothes
Said, Im moving away from your door
Ive been your fool for so long
Babe, I wont play that fool no more
I gave you all my money
I work as hard as I can
I came home early one morning
I found you with another man
Babe, Ive packed up my clothes
Im moving away from your door
Said, Ive been your fool for so long
And lord, I wont play that fool no more
Solo
So good-bye baby
You dont even care
Yes, I had a love so strong for you
But you treat me so unfair
Said, Ive packed up my clothes
Im moving away from your door
You know, Ive been your fool for so long
And babe, I wont play that fool no more
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The clothes back in those days were made so much better than clothes are today. They actually took time to make clothes to fit a woman's body. Today they make clothes that fit sizes, so it stretches to fit this and that.
quote by Debbie Allen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fire or Happiness?
Taking a term of happiness is like folders of work,
To do this establishing action creates the handiwork
Of the devil. For his life is in ruination, his tears are solid
And not like water or oil, they are fine on their own, just acrid.
Take the man who spoke gently, he guessed and murmured
To himself, the one who knew a border and wall, he battered
The closet and its clothes of all the high features of his house,
And once he let go of his house, the clothes were ablaze, even the blouse.
Many who refrain from chit chat are legally married,
But the girl who loves happiness is on fire, bullied;
The boy is a gentleman who loves fire and all it entails,
Which is why he crazes for beams of fire, and fails.
Both are happy, and both are on fire from the flames,
Because, one is hating the other, and now no more names.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Bags
the three bags are standing
near the door
of our room waiting
they are full of clothes
they are anxious
what will follow next
the clothes are tired
they want to go back to the
cabinets and sleep
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I'm a former hippie, so clothes are important to me - your clothes defined you in that period. I guess clothes still defines people. But, I change a lot. I'm in my Brooks Brothers period now.
quote by John Hughes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I think that fashion can be a lot of fun. I love clothes, but I recognize that it should only be a hobby. Some clothes that are more design-based look better on women with figures like wire hangers, because that's the nature of the design. I won't wear those clothes.
quote by Anne Hathaway
Submitted by Diana Frone, MTTLC
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Animals in Clothes
Animals in clothes I see
Driving cars or sipping tea
Animals in clothes I see
But they don't know what they are
These animals that drive a car?
Dress in clothes?
Sip the tea?
Just like you
Just like me
Very clever animals they'd be!
But they don't know what they are
These animals that drive a car
Dress in clothes
Sip the tea
Just like you
Just like me
So truly stupid animals they be
Not to realize what they are
Just because they drive a car
Sip the tea
Just like you
Just like me
Oh what stupid things we be
Not to realize what we are
Just because we drive a car
Dress in clothes
Sip the tea
So g-r-a-c-i-o-u-s-l-y!
You and Me
Oh what stupid things we are
Not to realize what we be
Animals that drive a car
Dress in clothes
Sip the tea
You and me
For if Mr Piggy had our brain
Ten fingers
Clothes, and a name
Wouldn't he be just the same?
1986
poem by Egal Bohen
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I think women are concerned too much with their clothes. Men don't really care that much about women's clothes. If they like a girl, chances are they'll like her clothes.
quote by Hedy Lamarr
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have a face that is a cross between two pounds of halibut and an explosion in an old clothes closet.
quote by David Niven
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Tinkering Folding Keeping Scattering
tinkering
it is something that you like
to know what really is there
inside the complications of things
folding
how can you spend so much time
folding clothes
that you never used
and keeping them
again in that closet
that you seldom open
like a party that you tender only once in a year
and scattering
what is it this time that you want to do?
what is it that must take you back
something to do
a reason to live after another tinkering
that have caused you
sorrow
fold them back and keep them
they are useless
and there is a need for you to be open again
breathe some hidden perfume
inside the cabinet of old clothes
come back and tell me
what did you see there?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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From the beginning I thought about working with the body in movement, the space between the body and clothes. I wanted the clothes to move when people moved. The clothes are also for people to dance or laugh.
quote by Issey Miyake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inharmonious Harmony
Watch two women washing clothes;
One woman makes dry clothes wet
The other makes wet clothes dry
They seem to work against each other,
But their work is a perfect harmony
(Inspired by the brilliance of Rumi)
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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I couldn't care less about fashion. If I had taken any clothes home, they would have remained in my closet for the rest of their existence.
quote by Meryl Streep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Clothes On Biker’s Back
When I was the age seventeen,
I was in a girl’s home
because my mom was really mean.
I got out for a little break,
went to girlfriend biker’s place,
and partied till very late.
We played strip poker
with a table of four,
everyone almost dropped
all their drawers.
Then I had to get back to my parent’s place,
biker drives me home naked
with no clothes on,
not a trace.
Luckily he stopped at all the stops,
we never did get pulled over by the cops.
This was right around 2 o’clock.
Next day went back to Anderson’s home,
I had to call my girlfriend’s phone,
to tell her clothes were all gone.
Yes, one of the girls ran away the night before,
girl went into my room,
stole them out of my drawer.
Runaway girl crosses the bridge to the Wisc. side,
hoping she can run from cops and hide.
Luckily my friend’s clothes did come back,
friend couldn’t wear them anyway for she was
pregnant and that was that.
Now if the runaway girl
had just wore the biker clothes the night before
I wouldn’t have to explain to my friend
why her clothes went out the door.
The moral of the story is;
While one is out getting naked,
someone is stealing your clothes that are forsaken.
Written by Christina Sunrise on Feb.19,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Don't Know Me
I will disguise myself so no one
will really know who I am.
I will wear bright clothes and flashy shoes
and they will call me ma'am.
But when I'm in no one's company
I'll let my hair all down.
I'll put on a drab old shirt
and slippers of shabby brown.
For clothes do make the person.
That's what I've been told.
When my flashy clothes are on
I'm a sight to behold.
But that's not who I am you know.
I'm just a plain old gal.
But I can fool the best of them.
They think I'm a femme fatale.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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