The hidden breasts
A woman hides her breasts with clothes;
She hides them from being seen
To betray their presence by shape
More pronounced than the naked.
Anything that is hidden means
It’s location isn’t traceable.
Breasts aren’t hidden with clothes;
Breasts are decked out with clothes.
24.12.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Modesty counts
Breasts when hidden add value to the cleavage.
Breasts when hidden make the loins seductive.
Breasts when hidden add poise to the face
Breasts must be hidden to make men erotic.
25.01.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Conceal to reveal
Breasts bare, breasts with bra,
Breasts revealing the cleavage,
Breasts under blouse with bare belly
And breasts with contour visible
Have their appeal up in that order.
The more one is left for imagination
The more the beauty will reveal.
06.12.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Clothes Have No Memories (for Doreen)
Your most prized dress
must confess
that it
cannot
remember
the swell of your breast
the rise & fall of your breathing.
Clothes have no memory.
It is Winter now and your summer
frock has totally forgot
the sheer sunny shockingness of being
(underneath it all)
absolutely knickerless.
Kisses like butterflies
alight high (high)
on your inner thigh (thigh) !
Clothes have no memory.
Your bra
unhooked & unhinged
cannot really recall
the thrill of it all
as my hands caresss
create your breasts.
Clothes have no memory.
Clothes have no memory
...but I do.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Sunjuice
What happens when the juice of the sun
drenches you
with its lemony tang, its tart sweetness
& your whole body stings with singing
so that your toes sing to your mouth
& your navel whistles to your breasts
& your breasts wave to everyone
as you walk down the summer street?
What will you do
when nothing will do
but to throw your arms around trees
& men
& greet every woman as sister
& to run naked in the spray of the fire hydrants
with children of assorted colors?
Will you cover your drenched skin
with woolen clothes?
Will you wear a diaper of herringbone tweed?
Will you piece together a shroud of figleaves
& lecture at the University
on the Lives of the Major Poets,
the History of Despair in Art?
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The face is value giver.
To know which breasts are lovely
From the two pairs looking alike,
I must know whose breasts they are.
The breasts owe their value to their face.
31.01.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A strange phenomenon
Breasts are a fountain to infants
And yet not seductive to them.
Breasts are nil in that sense to men
And yet arrest men by their sight.
03.10.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trans-placement of sex.
Breasts were kept out of sights;
Cleavage grew prominent.
Groins were hidden with clothes;
Naval became distinct.
Mating across is denied;
Masturbation has taken its place.
Induced by the sight of
The cleavage and belly
Coupled by masturbation,
Man sheds his interest
To have sex with women
As people, having watched the cricket
From television, have lost
Interest in seeing it in person.
28.02.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The wrapper has no use
How fully wrapped you appear!
How wholly draped you are!
However, you are to me naked.
Your pallu round the lean arm
Hides from me your flat belly.
Your pallu thrown over shoulder,
Close to neck gives me a clue
How deep your cleavage beneath is.
Your pallu brought backward
Covers the blouse with bra cut.
Your pallu brought forward over shoulder encloses deep armpit,
And the dimple of elbow.
Your pallu never runs over the head,
Which gives me all the clue
How you will look where you’re hidden.
I can see your long face, long nape,
and long hair and long fingers,
By which I can sense your hidden parts.
However fully you are wrapped,
However wholly you are draped,
You are to me fully naked.
To my passion or to my acumen-
To which should the credit go?
You can shut to my eyes.
You cannot stop my eyes.
11.05.2001, Pmdi [repetition]
[pallu is the end portion of Indian woman saree,
thrown over the chest and a shoulder
to hide the contour of one's breasts]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Like A Prostitute
Why are you dressed up like a prostitute towards me tonight?
For your feet were never at home when i visited;
And what i heard was that,
All the men around played with your breasts.
You seduced them with your smooth words and,
You are almost naked in your clothes tonight;
But i will walk away alone through the thick forest and,
Through the dark forest to save my name tonight!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Small breasts
Small breasts are as much an asset; be proud.
The insecure only will seek large breasts.
Men of valour go for the handy ones.
Small breasts are an asset that humbles men.
21.06.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nude as such is flat
But for hidden breasts,
Cleavage fails to attack.
But for slipping Pallu
Her chest is nonchalant.
But for low hip bottom,
Belly fails to rebel.
But for lifting skirt,
Thighs are mere slaves.
But for low cut blouse,
Back is barren.
Nude as such is flat.
19.12.2001, pakd
[pallu = the end portion of saree thrown over the left shoulder, hiding the breasts, contour]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Man made the heaven
God created woman and man invented lust.
God created impulses and man found devices.
He decked out breasts, waist and pelvis,
Man crafted kisses, bites and licks.
It is man, who turned blossom to orgasm,
Plexus to erotic and volcano to lava.
Also is man, who showed her heaven,
Hitherto to her hidden, and in serving
Womankind, found himself in heaven.
10.06.97
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fable of the Mermaid and the Drunks
All those men were there inside,
when she came in totally naked.
They had been drinking: they began to spit.
Newly come from the river, she knew nothing.
She was a mermaid who had lost her way.
The insults flowed down her gleaming flesh.
Obscenities drowned her golden breasts.
Not knowing tears, she did not weep tears.
Not knowing clothes, she did not have clothes.
They blackened her with burnt corks and cigarette stubs,
and rolled around laughing on the tavern floor.
She did not speak because she had no speech.
Her eyes were the colour of distant love,
her twin arms were made of white topaz.
Her lips moved, silent, in a coral light,
and suddenly she went out by that door.
Entering the river she was cleaned,
shining like a white stone in the rain,
and without looking back she swam again
swam towards emptiness, swam towards death.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Beauty is described
She is a beauty
Whose mouth is as wide as a python’s,
Whose nose is as sharp as a sparrow’s
Whose neck is long as a peacock’s
Whose mane is as dense as a lion’s
Whose hip is as broad as a duck’s
And whose legs are as tall as a crane’s,
What about her breasts?
Any shape; breasts themselves are beauty
For men, who’d been denied enough feeding.
01.12.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fable Of The Mermaid And The Drunks
All those men were there inside,
when she came in totally naked.
They had been drinking: they began to spit.
Newly come from the river, she knew nothing.
She was a mermaid who had lost her way.
The insults flowed down her gleaming flesh.
Obscenities drowned her golden breasts.
Not knowing tears, she did not weep tears.
Not knowing clothes, she did not have clothes.
They blackened her with burnt corks and cigarette stubs,
and rolled around laughing on the tavern floor.
She did not speak because she had no speech.
Her eyes were the color of distant love,
her twin arms were made of white topaz.
Her lips moved, silent, in a coral light,
and suddenly she went out by that door.
Entering the river she was cleaned,
shining like a white stone in the rain,
and without looking back she swam again
swam towards emptiness, swam towards death.
poem by Pablo Neruda from Return of the Mermaid (Regresó la sirena) (1954)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The spark
Stripping the clothes is more a thrill
Than seeing a woman in naked.
Getting response is more a thrill
Than being in love with a woman.
01.11.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The fashionable woman wears clothes. The clothes don't wear her.
quote by Mary Quant
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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