The New Shirt...
she bought me
lies on the table, still folded
and pinned. Palm trees
and a small island parade
across a black background.
The perfect gift for a man
who refuses to wear golf shirts
or one of those boring button down
bargains you find at JCPenny.
I remove the pins, the plastic
strip and the collar becomes
compliant, though not as soft
as her mouth on my neck.
The sleeves, folded across
the chest, reminded me
of the last time I held her
prisoner in my arms.
I count the buttons: seven.
Two more than on that blouse
she wore last night.
I imagine the next time
we are together, know
I won’t let a dozen buttons
come between us.
poem by Clifton King
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Related quotes
Buttons
I have been watching the war map slammed up for advertising in front of the newspaper office.
Buttons—red and yellow buttons—blue and black buttons—are shoved back and forth across the map.
A laughing young man, sunny with freckles,
Climbs a ladder, yells a joke to somebody in the crowd,
And then fixes a yellow button one inch west
And follows the yellow button with a black button one inch west.
(Ten thousand men and boys twist on their bodies in a red soak along a river edge,
Gasping of wounds, calling for water, some rattling death in their throats.)
Who would guess what it cost to move two buttons one inch on the war map here in front of the newspaper office where the freckle-faced young man is laughing to us?
poem by Carl Sandburg
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In a coffin
Hands folded over the chest
she lies forever stretched out
as if death out of the blue holds her calm
and nothing will wake her up,
from the last sleep folding coldly round her
and strangely changed from princess to rotting dirt.
Hands folded over the chest
she lies forever stretched out.
with no fingers clenching hot around mine
and drawing me nearer,
no arms embracing me to her body
and I am totally alone
and stare at hands folded over her chest.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Is it possible?
When I see you all together here babe,
My heart never skipped a beat, tap,
One after another to feel the texture,
Silky, smooth, rough and velvety,
Gorgeous, you all my property,
Flowers bloomed for me to smell.
Checkered are you, later we drill,
Sizes are only three, strip the extras,
Laying you all on the table,
Spread my hands of fingers noble,
Hurting you is not my intention,
Here come the pieces of perfection,
Stay still for few more moments,
Let me join the bodies that lament,
Necks are folded and pressed,
Colored buttons make you finished,
You are individually wonderful,
When the girls pick to wear you,
You are the most beautiful,
Blouses from the tailors to the shops,
Uniformly same and no mishap,
When the women wear and walk,
The blouses acquire different shape.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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So Often
we are caught empty handed
and time laughs and then asks: what have you done to your collar?
it is destructive of your neck
it is choking you and you still say you like the color of the buttons
we are caught so afraid and we are silent about this
and time begins to frown
and leaves us all
askance, and we ask what fraudulent creeping scorpion
has time become
it bites and takes a portion of our limbs
but then
we also learn this kind of game and time confronts us
we know what it will say
and we are ready with our silence too
after all
time was never a friend
all along it has always been a foe
giving us that feeling of slippery eels
those thorny porcupines
those roses that enthuses us only for a while
then we are again reminded of the wilting
and the passing away
of what we think belongs to us
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Festa Major de Gracia
buttons buttons everywhere
never button up our creativity
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Fibber Island
Here on Fibber Island
We strum rubber guitars
Our friends live on Mars
And we sew buttons on our cars
Here on Fibber Island
Our house is made of pie
Our dog is two miles wide
And all he talks about is pie
Here on Fibber Island
We swim on the ground
Wheels are square, not round
We eat chocolate by the pound
Here on Fibber Island (here on Fibber Island)
No one sings along (no one sings along)
We just ride giraffes (we just ride giraffes)
And wear bicycles for hats (bicycles for hats)
To get to Fibber Island (oooooh)
You just close your eyes (oooooh)
Start fibbin' in your mind (oooooh)
And see what you can find (oooooh)
Here on Fibber Island
We hide mittens in our hair
You might need to stare
To see the mittens in our hair
Come to Fibber Island
And strum rubber guitars
Meet our friends from Mars
And sew buttons on our cars
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonia and You and The Promise
Sonia closed
the door
behind her
and leaned
against it
you go out
with me?
she asked
her Polish/English
grated on your ears
look I can't
I have other
things to do
you said
running a hand
to smooth
Mr Dubbin's bed
she looked around
the room
and said
what if someone
come in
and see you
here with me?
what if they think
you been having me?
but it wouldn't
be true
you said
standing up
and moving away
from the bed
you know that
and I know it
but others
they do not
she said
her voice
crisp and cool
what if I undo
my uniform
and show my breasts
and say you did it?
you blushed
at the thought
look
just leave me be
you said
she stood firm
against the door
her hands
on the lapels
of her uniform
you could say yes
she said
you could take me
out to cinema
and then
it would be good
huh?
you watched
as she undid
one button
at a time
you watched
her fingers undo
each button
with deliberate
slowness
if I say yes
you'll stop this folly?
you asked
if you mean it
I will walk
from the door
and we can leave
and I do up
the buttons
before others see
she stared at you
her pale blue eyes
on you
her lips parted
just so
you could see
her small white teeth
where do you want to go?
you asked
cinema is good
she said
in the dark
we can kiss yes?
the buttons
were undone
to reveal
her compacted tits
ok ok
you said
the cinema
it is promise?
she said coolly
you make promise
and keep?
yes I make promise
and keep
you repeated
she began to do up
the buttons
her eyes
looking at you
and she smiled
and said
good boy
we have fun no?
you breathed out
the held in breath
sweat dampened
the back
of your shirt
and trouser legs
but if
you do not
show up
she said
brushing her uniform
I'll say you make love
to me on this
Mr Dubbin's bed
and I make bed
look all untidy
and they believe
me yes?
I'll be there
trust me
you said
just let me go
I need to get
the other beds
made before lunch
she moved aside
and opened the door
her perfume
filtering your nose
off you go
she said
and be good
you went off
to make the beds
and show up
that night
as she knew
you would.
poem by Terry Collett
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Tik Tok Goes the Clock
Rising smoke
Yonder up the sky
Panting chest with message
Running feet, with chest so sweaty.
That old drum
Its sound swallowed
By buttons and codes.
As tick tok the clock runs
Of a nerve itching of need
In the archives
The drum is found
Tik tok the clock runs
Buttons and codes
A revolution info-technology.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Little Green Buttons
The honeymoon ended a decade ago,
If he still loves her he don't say so,
So she's taking her blues to the House af Tattoos,
Getting little green buttons on her birthday suit.
Little green buttons all in a row
From her face to the place they ain't never gonna slow.
Might sound crazy but they sure look cute,
Those little green buttons on her birthday suit.
She had supper in the oven when he came home,
Now he's snoring on the sofa to the Late, Late Show.
It was ten days later before he knew
'Bout those little green buttons on her birthday suit.
But now she's living in a house of love,
She's got his attention, he can't get enough
He spends every evening trying to undo
The little green buttons on her birthday suit.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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0332 How were they to know?
Yes, how were they to know,
searching in the heat of forenoon dunes,
those high hills of sand
where once the forests grew,
now a rhythm of burnt sunned, cool shadowed, mock horizons,
- they, searching for the camel which had strayed -
and finding there, a man sitting still, cross-legged
in the sand upon a small strip
of faded coloured carpet,
palm of hand crossed in palm of hand,
and in the palm of his upraised right hand,
one grain of sand
and who, as they approached,
did not shift his gaze from that one grain;
and yet they sensed that he sensed them;
better let him be, he knows what he’s about,
or if he’s mad, at least he’s quietly purposeful…
how were they to know
that as he gazed, the universe he saw
in that one grain of sand then
grew inside of him? till it filled itself,
like a sand-clock, as the last grain
falls from the upper to
the lower, and all is still again
as measured time stops still
amid the sands of time?
how were they to know
as that small figure against the desert sand
his cloak still burning to the touch,
returned to the oasis, as the red-hot sun
sank below the dramatic shadow of the furthest dune,
and later, sitting by the green palms and papyrus reeds,
the camels head down, humped around the welcome pool,
one child, then many children,
then grown men, asked him their questions;
and the answers, as the night folded in
below more stars than anyone could count,
drew the circle of cross-legged silent listeners
- occasionally, urgent voiced with a lifetime’s pressing question -
as if some grain of sand became in their mind too
totality; the universe.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Golf Tees Lament
Golf tees on my dresser
Golf tees in my bed
Golf tees on my pillows
Where they poke me in my head
Golf tees in my closet
Falling from my shirts and pants
Golf tees along the baseboards
Just like army ants
Golf tees in the carpet
And underneath my feet
Golf tees lined up on the mantle
Oh, they look so neat
Golf tees in my couch
And in my back and thighs
When I sit and watch TV
I feel those little guys
Golf tees in the kitchen
In Jurassic coffee mugs
Sometimes when I pass them
They look like prehistoric bugs.
Golf tees in the bathtub
Like sailors on plastic ships
Golf tee in her make-up
Like little bald q-tips.
Golf tees in the attic
Golf tees in the shed
Golf tees, golf tees everywhere
I wonder where they bred?
Golf tees out the backdoor
Like Hansel-and-Gretel’s trails
Golf tees in the flowerbeds
Among the mulch and snails
Golf tees in my car
And underneath the mats
Golf tees in the backseat
Like little baseball bats
But when I am at the golf course
I ask my partner, like a louse…
“May I borrow some of your tees? ”
I left mine at the house!
poem by Larry Buddin
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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
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It usually takes two people a little while to learn where the funny buttons are and testy buttons are.
quote by Matt Lauer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Making Love To A Black Woman
How do you make love, to a Black Woman?
How do you make love to a Black Woman,
Romantically and Patiently;
Take the time to make love to her mind.
Fulfill all of her midnight wishes.
Cover her entire body with soft wet kisses.
Tell her, so that she will know!
There's no place on her body
your tongue won't go.
And, when you love a Black Woman,
you love her real slow.
How do you make love, to a Black Woman?
How do you make love to a Black Woman,
Passionately and Sincerely;
Let her Sweetness become your Weakness.
Do not use just the Penis, But include your ear.
Listen to the sweet sound of her moans
and see what you hear.
Feel the warmth and care of her loving embrace.
Place your mouth on hers and savor the taste.
How do you make love, to a Black Woman?
How do you make love to a Black Woman,
Sensually and Honestly;
Say what you mean and mean what you say.
Tell her that you love her,
more and more with each passing day.
Let all of the fantasies that dance in her head.
Become her moonlight reality
when it's time to go to bed.
Kiss and lick all over her body
until you find all her right spots.
Touch and caress her soft skin
and make her real hot.
Mutual satisfaction is a lover's plan.
Love her, cause you are in love with her.
She's your Woman and your her Man.
How do you make love, to a Black Woman?
How do you make love to a Black Woman,
Lovingly and completely;
Love her until her 'Screams of Passion'
are all you that hear.
Suck on her neck and stick
your tongue in her ear.
Hold her soft round ass
in the palm of your hands.
Let her sexual wishes
become your loving commands.
Love your Black Woman with
your Mind, Body and Soul.
She's the most precious gift on this Earth.
She's worth her weight in gold.
How do you make love to a Black Woman?
There's only one true way to start.
To make love to a Black Woman,
just give her your Heart.
poem by Samuel Newton
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The Last Time I Saw Richard
The last time I saw richard was detroit in 68,
And he told me all romantics meet the same fate someday
Cynical and drunk and boring someone in some dark cafe
You laugh, he said you think youre immune, go look at your eyes
Theyre full of moon
You like roses and kisses and pretty men to tell you
All those pretty lies, pretty lies
When you gonna realise theyre only pretty lies
Only pretty lies, just pretty lies
He put a quarter in the wurlitzer, and he pushed
Three buttons and the thing began to whirr
And a bar maid came by in fishnet stockings and a bow tie
And she said drink up now its gettin on time to close.
Richard, you havent really changed, I said
Its just that now youre romanticizing some pain thats in your head
You got tombs in your eyes, but the songs
You punched are dreaming
Listen, they sing of love so sweet, love so sweet
When you gonna get yourself back on your feet?
Oh and love can be so sweet, love so sweet
Richard got married to a figure skater
And he bought her a dishwasher and a coffee percolator
And he drinks at home now most nights with the tv on
And all the house lights left up bright
Im gonna blow this damn candle out
I dont want nobody comin over to my table
I got nothing to talk to anybody about
All good dreamers pass this way some day
Hidin behind bottles in dark cafes
Dark cafes
Only a dark cocoon before I get my gorgeous wings
And fly away
Only a phase, these dark cafe days
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Clothes
That party requires me to wear this and that
The dress code rules, the most annoying;
And if I have to deliver this news
Such as delivering newspapers
to be wearing a raincoat
How idiot-definitely-in times of rain and
the news was soaking
'How are you so? '
Weather folded pocket behind
The voice laughed, embarrassed the rigid rules..
What clothes should be removed
even though it
Giggles fly over the heads of
And golden perch in the cage
The owners of the kingdom of words;
Husband joked with another man's wife
In the pockets of his clothes there
1 box of cards,
mobile-phone numbers and streets with no name
'Excellent news today'
All nodding like dolls;
Made of tulips...
I say birds fly free
Dancing in my awkward silence
So what does it mean, all these dishes;
Presented after further ado completed
Or enjoy the embrace of the word..
After this we said go!
After this we remove the clothes;
And the buttons were scattered in the air
Became the new news about the clothes;
We laugh together..
(2009)
poem by Imam Setiaji Ronoatmojo
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Not A Story!
The needle sharp spikes can poke and puncture,
The subtle young skin, it entered quietly to adventure,
Below the blouse and on the stomach, crawling upward,
At The place of worship, where everyone was quiet and downward,
Hundreds of pins started to prick slowly and steadily,
Could not move and scream for help as It was the house of God,
Spitting the bitter fluid on its way, below the pinafore,
It made the victorious journey to the neck to smell and sneer,
When the warden dismissed and everyone was out,
She separated her hands that were clasped at the chest,
To retrieve the visitor from the back of the neck,
It was a green caterpillar with pins and spikes,
Everyone was shocked to see the trail mark,
From the stomach to the ten years old young neck's back,
She has learned the lesson of patience on that day,
And let soon to be a butterfly on the young leaves.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Flying
(rod stewart, ron wood, ronnie lane)
Im flying across the ocean
And Im soaring back home
To the place I was born and probably raised.
And Im flying across the mountains and valleys,
Back home to the one that I love so happily.
Can ya blame me for feeling homesick
cause Ive been away such a very long long time ?
I served a while in the county jail, five years for
For bein hungry tired and poor, I got worried so.
On and on this I will follow with your buttons and bows.
On and on this I will follow, all alone,
You know I will follow with your buttons and bows,
With your buttons and your bows.
On and on Im flying across the ocean, going home.
Im flying across the ocean
Goin home, hoo hoo
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Count Me Out
Count me out
Count me out
Fellas want to hang
And save tonight just
For the gang
But youll have to count me
Out this time
If I cant bring my girl
Dont look surprised
When I tell you that
Gotta spend some time
With my baby, yes
So if that means
Were gonna rain on
Your parade
Youll have to count me out
Youre gonna have to count me
Out
Youll have to count me out
I wanna be with my girlfriend
Youll have to count me out
This time
Youll have to count me out
When she asked me please
Could I say no and feel at
Ease
If you count me out tonight
Shes gonna be with me wherever
I go
Shes got a sweet personality
She saves her kisses just for me
So if that means were gonna rain on
Your parade
Youll have to count me out
Youre gonna have to count
Me out
Youll have to count me out
Im saving kisses for my baby
Youll have to count me out
This time
Youll have to count me out
Youll have to count me out
Youre gonna have to count
Me out
Youll have to count me out
My baby wants to be with me
Youll have to count me out
Thats the way its gonna be
Youll have to count me out
Count me out
Count me out
Youll have to count me out
Youre gonna have to count me
Out
Youll have to count me out
I wanna be with my girlfriend
Youll have to count me out
This time
Youll have to count me out
This time
Youll have to count me out
Youll have to count me out
Youre gonna have to count
Me out
Youll have to count me out
Im saving all my loving for her
Youll have to count me out
This time
Youll have to count me out
I love my baby but shes just a
Tease
And when I need her I say please,
Please, please
Can I hold you,
Squeeze you,
Cause I need you
Count me out
Youll have to count me out
This time
Dont count me out
Dont leave me out
Youll have to count me out
This time
Youll have to count me out
Count me out
Youll have to count me out
Youll have to count me out
Count me out
Youll have to count me out
Man, were going to the movies
Then to the park, to play a little
Ball till it get dark
Thats what being young is all about
Man, c-o-u-n-t me out
Well what about us,
Were your friends
We wanna c-o-u-n-t
Me in,
No not tonight
Where you going then
Tonight I wanna be with my girlfriend
Youll have to count me out
Youll have to count me out
Youll have to count me out
Youll have to count me out
This time
Youll have to count me out
Count me out
Count me out
Count me out
Dont count me out
Dont leave me out
Youll have to count me out
Youre gonna have to count
Me out
Youll have to count me out
Im saving kisses for my baby
Youll have to count me out
This time
Youll have to count me out
Youll have to count me out
Youre gonna have to count
Me out
Youll have to count me out
I wanna be with my girlfriend
Youll have to count me out
This time
Youll have to count me out
song performed by by New Edition
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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