Clothes And Underwear
shades and
black shiny shoes
and white socks
and olive green polo shirts
a red jockey underwear
and king's pants
a rolex wristwatch
reading glasses
they are all spread
randomly on
a carpeted floor
all these are useless.
removed from you
and her.
she moans.you are
naked.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Unholy Hour
my pants are under the chair
my brief on the john
my polo shirt on the cabinet
my watch below the bed
my shoes scatter on the floor
my socks no longer pair
we're here united
at the most unholy hour
of the day
with all regrets
for nudity
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Time to be with myself, this self, this self, this self
I put my hands in the side pocket of my pants
Tuck my polo, gel my hair, smooth and stiff
Put on my shoes, my wristwatch is tight,
Zip my skin to keep both bones and flesh
Follow the narrow path and walk
Without looking back
It is now this time
For myself
To
Where?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We Shall Meet Soon
we shall soon meet
and i shall wear the best of what i have
an off-white shirt
the khaki pants, clear reading glasses
i'll sport my shortest hair
i'll wear my black shoes with mud on its side
no socks, no wrist watch, no cell phone,
nothing to smoke, nothing to say
no word from me when we meet
i will sip my coffee beside you
no promises no talks about heaven
neither hell, you talk i will listen,
you tell me stories i will be patient
tell me more about hellos
skip the sad stories about goodbyes.
let there be no time that runs
you keep on talking
i shall listen. And if you wish
kiss me and we shall not mind
what they will say.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Change Me?
when you arrive here
you change the paint of the house
you like it pastel blue on the door
white on the walls
and green on the windows
you change the landscape
except of the wanton garden
you opt for a manicured lawn
and some of my trees
and shrubs have to be
cut down,
some flowers have to go
you bring in
the violets, and lavenders
and white champacas
you like a scent from around
you
specially during the night
when we simply sit
on the lawn
now you begin to demand
some changes from me
the time when i wake
up or sleep
you like soap i like sports
you want me to enjoy
love stories
the color of my socks
my tie my polo shirts
i give in for a while
but there is an end to all these
attempts to change me
you cannot,
i am me before the landscape
before the paints of the house
i am me before the lawns and flowers and socks
and shirts and soap
i am already me before you arrive
to my house
to my life
you cannot change me
because
i love who i am what i am and i know perfectly just what i want to make
myself
even without you,
make some more attempts to change me
and i will ask you to leave at once
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Olive At Midnight
An olive at midnight
Green
shiny
globe
of
black
The size of a dirty workman's thumb
They (the olives) tumble towards me
Down hills and in still slick lakes of olive oil
I meet my dark shining olive
By suprise
It's midnight in the olive grove
My ciabatta catches him
spinning on the tastebuds together
My olive and I
Two star crossed lovers
One black
On green
Obscene nights of perpetual fulfillment
What a scene! my olive and me
My olive my heart
Oh my darling lovely one
Olive at midnight
At last
you have come to me
And together we will may a delightful
pair
my lips quake at the thought of you
quivering as you slither in a plate of oil
towards them
Olive at midnight
You have possessed me
I am yours
But too many press in
Only one is chosen
It is dark I cannot see you
Oh olive
Are you green?
Or black?
Does it matter I am not prejudice
My dear dear one
At midnight you thunder towards me
My heart is an earthquake
My brain a melting pot offondant cheese
I slice my ciabatta
A tiny onion a tomato pressed between
And you oh olive my love
I am done
Please leave
I am not hungry
It is past midnight
I must sleep
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Model
feelings are
here
guests on
my breakfast
table,
in the dark
they are crazy
dancers
playful like
disco
lights,
this is a
bright day for me
i set aside
feelings,
choke love,
and even
murder it
i want to appear
like a king to my
kin
unblemished by
the alterations
of feelings,
i am a model
of restraint
my polo shirt is
white
and my shoes are
shiny
black
i put my suit
and my tie
i pocket my smile
and
go inside my office
stiff-necked
and hurt.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Main And The Peripheries
sometimes i am amazed at my own irrationality
i set the bread and butter aside today
telling myself i have enough of the ham and the bacon
in my freezer,
there will be no office, there will be no class,
there will be no conferences, no discussions about the future
of my light and darkness
i take the slipper and set aside the shoes
i fold the tie and the white underwear
the coat is hanged, and the wool is returned to the sheep
the leather is promised to the crocodiles and the snakes
the fur to the fox and the gold back to the holes of the earth
i leave the slippers and the hat and even the polo shirt
i change my mind and i do not care
i go naked to the fields of my youth
and then i rest my body under the morning sun
all exposed to the light and air
and think of you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A MAN by EMMA Z.
this is a picture of you
my man, on white brief,
masculine body, strong,
firm arms, gentle eyes
determined eyelashes,
bold fingers, drinking
a hot cup of coffee,
well cut hair, shaven face,
smooth skin, hair on the
slab of his skin, firm legs
easy on the floor, calm nipples,
peaceful on the sofa,
waiting for me.
yet i still ask for more
when he steps out of my door
i may cry a little bit
three or four tears are enough
for a decent parting
a little time for mourning
a pint of vodka to shake him off from my system
tonight, i'll make a call
another man enters my door
into my womb, my system filled with his spurts
i stoop, i kneel, i worship this man
i lick every dropp of him
and then he goes again
at dawn, fitting in his black underwear
back to his pants and polo
sliding his belt
buttoning his pants
zip his pocket
yet i ask still for more
to fill this emptiness of my being
they are all men that step in and out of my door
hinges still strong and intact
i am suspended so well between the space and the frame
i am a woman. They are just men.
I swallow and spit them all.
i vomit and swallow them all again.
this is the cycle of my
skepticism.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Reality...one
in a field of grass
underneath the morning clouds
a man with a black hat
white polo and marine blue pants
rides on a red motorbike
followed by a brown dog
and a black horse
one upon the other they tread
upon the road that you are talking
blue birds fly the skies
above the poplars
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
White Shoes
(jack tempchin)
I want em, I need em
And Im gonna go out and get em
White shoes
I know Ill feel better
When I slide down into the leather
White shoes
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes
I woke up from a dream
When I saw em in a magazine
White shoes
I said lou you gotta start new
And the first thing you gotta do
Is get some white shoes
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes
You know he left me with the lonesome blues
Been hangin round too long with nothin to do
Yeah, he really made me pay those dues
But Im goin out on the town tonight in
White shoes
Well, I wanted em, I needed em
Yeah, and I went out and got em
White shoes
That new boy when I see him
Im gonna walk right up and meet him in
White shoes
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes
White shoes
Im goin out on the town tonight
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
When The Romance Fades....
boredom finally
arrives
laying itself in the
blue sofa
still dressed
from the usual party
it does not spread
its legs
the blanket covers
the rusty arms of
the bed
the shoes are sleepy
on the carpeted floor
silence is
at this hour of the night
comforting
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Highly-Colored Romance
Ben Green was a New-Hampshire boy,
Who stood full six feet two:
A jovial chap this same Ben Green,
Though he had oft been blue.
He loved a girl named Olive Brown,
Who lived near Bixby's pond,
And who, despite her brunette name,
Was a decided blonde.
"A Highly Colored Romance."
A pink of rare perfection she,
The belle of all the town;
Though Ben oft wished her Olive Green,
Instead of Olive Brown.
And she loved Ben, and said that nought
Should mar their joy serene;
And, when she changed from Olive Brown,
'Twould surely be to Green.
She kept her word in-violet,
And vowed, ere she was wed,
Although when Brown she had Be(e)n Green.
When Green she'd be well read.
But, ah! her young affections changed
To Gray, a Southern fellow;
And Green turned white the news to hear,
Though first it made him yell, oh!
Says he, " How can you lilac this,
When you vowed to be true?
I'll take your fine young lover, Gray,
And beat him till he's blue."
Then Olive Brown to crimson turned,
And said, "Do as you say:
The country long has wished to see
'The Blue combined with Gray.'"
Ben Green to purple turned with rage,
And black his brow as night;
While on the cheek of Olive Brown
The crimson changed to white.
"O cruel Olive Brown!" says Ben,
"I've been dun-brown by you:
Let this 'Grayback' his steps retrace,
And take Greenback, — oh, do!"
Poor Olive Brown, what could she say,
To sea-Green look so sad ?
And so she rose, and said to him,
"I'll go and ask my dad."
. . . .
The years rolled by: Ben's raven locks
For silver did not lack;
And Olive, with her hair of gold,
Was glad she took Greenback.
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
White Hat White Coat
To the late doug whalan.... from your daughter.....
White hat white coat and greying in hair
he would dance around the dance floor with plenty of flair
White hat white coat black pants to boot
the men would all say 'silly old coot'
Whitehat white coat and a big friendly smile
when he went to a dance he'd dress in style
White hat white coat and a beat in his feet
it's of to the dance and people to meet
White hat white coat and a scotch on the rocks he'd love to dance
and the men would all mock
White hat white coat asleep at the wheel
he's danced all night 'boy i know how he feels'
White hat white coat have been put to the test
it's time to go home for a well earned rest
White hat white coat clean shirt and socks too
he's all geard up and ready for round two
White hat white coat so tired and run down
close your eyes and dream of your nights on the town
White hat white coat you've seen better days
your torn around the edges and your starting to fray
White hat white coat the time's come for us to part
but always remember ' i love you with all my heart '
poem by Debbie Gregory
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
How Many Shades Of Green
HOW MANY SHADES OF GREEN
How many shades of green
Olive green
Dark green
Light green
Yellow green
How many shades of yellow
Deep yellow
Rose yellow
Sun yellow
Morning light yellow
How many shades of light
How much light
How much Beauty in the world
How much Light-
How much- God.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cryptic Critic
there is one thing
with you
that to me is
very wrong
you're too formal
with that coat
and tie
and those shiny
black shoes
and that
gel on your hair
we are not going
to a party
we are going to the
hills
take those off.
i don't mean that
we go there
naked.
what? the guns?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Final Door.......
Brown house
Grey smiles
Green green grass
Black shoes
Crystal tears with heart felt whispers
Hugs
Blue sky with cream teeth
Green green grass
(hold that thought)
Glassed water grasped
Taut innards
Flowers brought
White horses
Braided manes
White lilies
Window pane
White carriage
To carry forth
Green green grass
Hold that thought
Passing traffic
Collars grasped
Blurry images
Tend then pass
Crystal tears
Smart black tie
Shake and smile
Avoid the eye
Deep breath enter in
Listen watch
Let them begin
Then stare at the floor
'Bye bye darling'
Open door
poem by Karen Sinclair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Old Dancing Shoes
You lie there belying your age black and shiny
Patent smooth, untreated soles smoothed
With thrice of a thousand steps,
You never let me down gripped
With candle wax for sure footsteps,
Cracks line your skin we have grown old together.
I’m sure I saw you shuffle softly in answer as I speak.
Remember on a laid floor in front of the steps
Of Sydney’s beautiful Opera House
The quick 1 2 3 of a Straus’s Viennese waltz
Struck up, my wife’s stunning white and mauve flowing gown
Trimmed with soft ostrich feathers glistened in the
Warm Australian sun,
What a magic feeling dancing together as one and
With shoes that fit like a glove
You never let me down.
Your finest hour came, laces ‘an all
My God at that wonderful venue
Canberra’s great hall of Parliament house,
A very nice venue indeed for competition.
The magnificent floor laid from only Australian trees
Except the ebony...Papua New Guinea’s gift
Five lines of twelve sixty in all, in turn
Took to the floor,
Shiny shoe you glided along to a Sinatra foxtrot,
You did your best and stood at the heels
Of the winner on the podium,
Old soft shoes
You never let me down.
poem by Ken e Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Her Own Departure
Her own departure is a show.
a big bag hanging on her
shoulders, her left hand
holding a coin purse,
her right crumpling a
white handkerchief wet
with her tears.
she is crying. Her blue
blouse fits her fat and her
black pants are loose
like two shirts.
She wears her white rubber
shoes, sort of telling me
that she will be running
towards the place
that she will be hiding
for days.Or just towards
the airport. Or bus station
or port.
I don't really care.
She takes the ATM
with her, and the credit cards.
She does not tell me
where she is going.
She gives the hint that
it will be far away from
this cold house.
I am staying. I am glued
to this house.
I am silent and peaceful
now. I still have many things
to think and write.
My first poem after she leaves
shall be titled, 'Good riddance! '
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ownership kills the love
The Jockey owns not the horse that he tends.
And with that, more than the owner, he spends.
But the Jockey is terribly upset,
When he is removed or shifted from his seat.
I am too, when taken from the woman loved
No need to own one to get nourished from.
14.12.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Worn Out
last night after the usual
three-hour lecture of the law
i arrive late in the house
without the lights on
it is a blackout of some
metaphors
but the heart has been
numbed
and the mind has been
shut out
from having any contact
with any object
of affection
the hands open the car
and the feet move on
to the room
where the bed waits
it is dark in here
and the window is closed
and the air is thin
and the walls are damp
with all the
mildews still clinging
on the white tiles of
the bathroom
as though in a trance
i have thrown all the books
on the dusty floor
and without having to remove
my shirt
and pants and socks
and shoes
i retreat to the nooks
of a very sound sleep
i must have been dreaming
hearing my own
snore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!