Poems about wear



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№ 1203070

Wear that dress that I like

Wear that dress that I like
To my show
You request

Anything for you

Play my favorite song
I demand
As though you wrote it for me
You didn't.

When you do,
You will give me that look
That lets me know that you are mine

I'll blow you a kiss
You'll catch it
My invitation
To meet me in the green room
After the set

These are the recollections that haunt me

I can't bear the thought of another
Getting my look

And if you think i'm sending kisses
In anybody else's direction
You are quite mistaken

They are yours
And so am I


dress,  wear.

Author: rk
+0-
Date: 31/03/2020


№ 1187878

We were vintage. kind of like that ugly band t-shirt you always wear.

Bodies in black in white
Eyes in technicolor
We were picture perfect
But everything good fades
In time because
The vivid fades away
And vintage is simply
Old and worn and used


band,  kind,  shirt,  t,  ugly,  vintage.

Author: clever
+0-
Date: 17/03/2020

№ 1187002

They wear their boots

They wear their boots
For over 234 years, they have worn their boots.
They walked the mud of bunker hill
The snow of Gettysburg.
Through the valleys of Italy and France.
They wear their boots with pride across the world.
Each American in their own boots they do march...
They shine those boots to march down main street.
With their heads all high and tall.
The American soldier fills those boots they wear.
Blood sweat and yes tears drops fall on these boots.
But they are worn with freedom by design.
Each soldier wants to die with their boots of freedom on.


boots,  wear.

Author: Harold r Hunt Sr
+0-
Date: 17/03/2020

№ 1184476

In Beverly Hills I Wear My Sweater Made From Hash

In a sea of adolescent geeks and nerds grown to be adolescent college corruption
Holding pistol shaped hands high above their nodding heads to form an endless ocean of "W"s
Lip-synching every word to the sweater song in perfect drunken harmony
I'm stranded here where i don't belong
Trapped in a human cage of drunken fraternities and prudish sororities
Pass the expiration date of such antiquated requiems
I stand shoulder to shoulder feeling nothing but the crushing desire to sleep
The crushing desire to escape out into the wild*

Where are we going?
We're going nowhere.


hash,  hills,  sweater,  wear.

Author: Brandon
+0-
Date: 14/03/2020


№ 1176725

I wear your watch to work

Good news.
The world still spins around the universe
Sunset and sunrise
Just like before.
Everything still seems to move on
The way it always has.
Even without you here.
Even when it seems
The world inside me has stopped
The world around me never stops moving
Never missing a beat
Day after day
Slamming into you
Knocking the air from your lungs
Kissing your open mouth on the way out
Reminding you
That just as easily as something,
Someone
Can be brought into your life,
They can be taken out.

I linger on the corner of moving on
And forgetting
And the pathways look all too similar.
Down one,
The stars dance with the moon
Cloaking the world in darkness.
Down the other,
Street lamps tease the midnight air,
Flickering on
And off,
Hiding what's just around the corner
And in the end, it doesn't matter which road i take
Because while i linger on the corner of moving on
And forgetting
I still wear your watch to work.


watch,  wear,  work.

Author: Rylee Cracroft
+0-
Date: 07/03/2020

№ 1156971

Wear me on your heart

Let me touch
The softest skin
On the inside
Of your elbow
And let me know
You're real
Not a fake
Name and face
Let me know
You have
A soft spot
For me
Inside the crook
Of your heart
Don't let me rest
On your sleeve


heart,  wear.

Author: maybella snow
+0-
Date: 18/02/2020


№ 1156877

Do they wear spandex in the afterlife, Bowie?

This is ground control to Major Tom:

We're really gonna miss you.
Thank you for all that you've done.
There will never be anyone quite like you.


Rock on in the aether,
You beautiful creature.


afterlife,  bowie,  spandex,  wear.

Author: Anubis the Philosomancer
+0-
Date: 18/02/2020

№ 1152185

On Why You Shouldn't Wear Heels to Cemetaries

Today I thought of how

Closely my hands resemble my grandmother's,

And of how hers looked in the coffin.

At the funeral,

I was asked to take pictures for my uncle,

And I'm not going to say that it was my proudest moment

To witness the side-eye glances of black-clad neighbors

And still have to hear the click and see the flash

To forever-remember the floral arrangements

And the way my grandmother's hands looked.

Why my uncle couldn't operate

A disposable camera himself

Was something I didn't ask, and so

For hours I perched on ripped heels in a cemetary

Clicking and flashing and thinking that

The obituary should have contained the footnote

That cemetaries are grass and pliable earth

So it's best not to wear heels,

Lest you sink in,

And join the best of them.


heels,  t,  wear.

Author: Meaghan G
+0-
Date: 14/02/2020

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