A fashion passion, a fashion poem

You see radiance in me like no one else,

in a sphinx-like manner, you adore us

adding radiance without eking it out

your are abundant of all I need

~

You and I are acquaintances, more or less

yet, you wear the warmth of my heart

with pride and without holding back

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I saw no warmth in no other, thus

I sought warmth from none other

I saw fashion in no other,

you were all the fashion I needed

~

I am picky, I never chose you, but you did

you cuddled me reaching out to worlds unknown

vividly I reminisce our first time, simple yet enough

I wish that the hands of time punch endlessly

~

For you, I will go to space, a place only for you,

I will wait to embrace your body

drape gracefully on you, hug you with my heart

and when all gone, I will never let go

A fashion poem – Made in China

We are all made in China

forget the ads and the packaging

check the tag that we come with

it reads ‘Made in China’

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Faux or not, we’ve been designed

can you tell the difference?

daunting, aren’t we?

well, we have been made in china

~

You pay for us dearly or cheaply

you cherish our warmth, feel and look

you savor us for we are not eternal

we are loved foreigners from China

~

Because we do get not to choose

we are made a $ a day by coolies

the sumptuous and hobos own us

we are made in Asia, mostly in China

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Our making warms and pollutes China

it keeps money machines rolling in China

our making creates jobs outside China

it will come around; it went around from China

~

Project runway

Apprentice engineers hover doing last minute smooching

attentioned to detail, every spot and bump needs smoothing

an impatient tower control, always on time, now snoozing

the set is a makeshift, an aircraft carrier without a choosing

~

the runway runs away into the night marked in bright light

the first craft pulls out, thinned like a fighter jet, lit and light

it does multiple machs, outdoing sound, later maybe light

Houston we have no problem, runway clear, green light

~

the jet are more artful than air-ready, for the night, no take offs

this is an airshow on the ground, stripped down or taken off

some seem to bounce, like overweight butterflies unable to take off

or one that struggles to avoid a lift off from its flapping wings

~

The runway taxied more jets than an aircraft carrier lands

please don’t feed the models, please don’t fuel the jets lads

abhor, a shift in the throttle can almost be felt in the sound

However, neither a 747, nor an A380 has made a sound

The red carpet

In private jets they cruise, on recliners over the weather

On low and high riders, they ride low and hidden, on leather

On touch down, along bouncers, they walk under umbrellas

From motown to coast town, they bring a show no matter the weather

~

A fuss’ of polish and makeup, down, opens, flats and heels

A hand in another, another a hand on feels

His in squares, stripes, labels, another in jeans and white

Shis in anything, everything and mostly nothing

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One flirts with the media, another poses for the paparazzi

One talks of their jitters, another of their success in the bizz

One has a ring, she talks of a fling, and shows off a bling

They say they’ve a thing, but mostly, they are a thing

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One in shades, shows off his latest bit of fluff

One cannot tell if he is the gigolo or she is the bimbo

anyway, today, no one cares, who cares

She thins like a vagrant and looks like a million bucks

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Another is lithe and blithe, adorning haute couture

This one is amiable, she adores the fame culture

She drawls at the boom, fans love this feature

She flaunts at the paparazzi, cameras love the picture

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In LA, anywhere and nowhere, the same stars, I guess

Journals look for a killer line, its a game of chess

Without a blink cameras witness to later confess

Of malfunctions, anything, mostly of nothing more or less

~