Frankenstein's jacket

Tell the story of a piece of clothing as if it were alive.
personify anything that can be worn.
who might have worn it
what has it seen.
smell, inside the washing machine
trapped inside a suitcase etc

100 lines max

Frank’s Green Leather Jacket

When I was seventeen in the early nineties,
I inherited something from my dad, his green leather jacket,
It was straight out of ’79, retro cool and bad like a motherf…
I’m talking about like Shaft cool about to break up a racket.

It gave me the nostalgia of a different time, another era,
Not so much of disco but those of my parent’s early years,
The places they had been, the people they had met,
The stories it could tell if I pressed it against my ears.

Dad had been a semi pro early in his youth,
So he retained that bit of, I could’ve been, swagger,
A loud talker, a hard worker, a photographer some days,
Even though that lifestyle didn’t have as much glamour.

But I remember him wearing it on those days,
The smell of leather and the sound it made as he hugged me,
So when he outgrew it (sideways), I got his old jacket,
A time forgotten by many but then something else bugged me.

Some kids at school may have been a little cruel,
It wasn’t yet cool (or fresh) to be retro in those days,
At least some thought it was straight out of a thrift shop,
I wasn’t hip hop or rock, I was going through a phase.

But I kept it for maybe a couple of years, I don’t recall,
I just remember getting compliments from older folks,
I thought (again I was young), it wasn’t meant for me,
So I gave it away to Goodwill without any coax.

Then I learned about the cycles in fashion,
How everything comes back in style some years later,
And though I sometimes I wish I could find it,
It would feel like the swag of a trendsetting innovator.

So whoever picked up that old leather green jacket,
With that little bit of white paint streak on the right sleeve,
I hope you wore it well with style even though it was old,
And a little of Frank’s soul you would’ve received.

Awesome. For me, that conjured up an immense sense of emotion coupled with a lasting image. I myself am left wondering where the jacket went.  

The Wedding Dress


She wore me, a
proper adornment for her
Victorian heart, and
a rose-lined aisle became
a sunlit path, glinting
off beaded lace.

Petals caught my train, becoming
thorns over the years, turning
her smile to ashes, while
she eventually cried at
the sight of me.

I am still
beautiful, just
older and crumpled with
wisdom, like her;
a souvenir of happier times.

I am not to blame—won’t
you touch me once more?  
I still fit you, well.

nice, I like the Gothic Miss Havisham vibe. I can picture it very clearly.

http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f248/jadepandora/beatles%20-%20cuban%20heel%20boots.jpg
John's cuban-heeled boot

I cannot be completely true
Of being twins, not Si'amese
We're not connected at the toe
My sibling mate, his brother I

And being sold by auctioneer
I can't recall if we're mismatched
Perhaps the other leather boot
Was owned & worn by Harrison

And if that's so as orphaned pair
We walked through life while two men lived
And entertained the world around
Till fashion changed to other shoes

And while those years were very good
With music, lights, on stage to dance
I got to watch and be part of
The rocking Brit invasion scene

I fit my master to a T
And it was me in "...Hard Day's Night"
As I kept taping time in song
Just like when John sang for the Queen

The other boots & I were friends
And highly polished ev'ry day
We too were like celebrities
With copies made for merchandise

I'll always miss the ruckus times
When all four boys would work & play
It was a roller-coaster ride
In early days of Beatles fame

But now for years I'm stored away
In proper box of acid-free
Where nothing ever happens here
I miss my youth with John and his.



https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/259750-johns-cuban-heeled-boot/

Really liked the thought of his well travelled boot having a few stories to tell. Then being laid to rest for a collector. wonder what mick Jaggers boots would have smelt of.

Michael's Glove

I was sequined and splendidly bright,
My owner would say the sequins were like pixie dust.
He was Peter Pan as he moved with a little help from me.
One night we made history on May 16, 1983 performing on Motown 25th's special.
As Michael did a turn then shocked the world once he moonwalked then spun again as he then stood on his tippy toes.
The crowd cheered with glee as we were the talk of the night's special over everything else,
People admired my owner as the ladies swooned over him while the boys wanted to be just like him as they would try to buy replica gloves that looked just like me.
Needless to say we were the hit of the generation throughout the decades we became symbols.
Then me and my owner came back on September 7, 2001 for his 30th anniversary of thirty years as an artist as he put me on along with his black fedora and reminded everyone how iconic he still was even then.
That was the last time I was taken out to perform with Michael as he was planning to take me out one more time in 2009 his soul had went away as he flew away with the angels as I was left behind along with the rest of his other beloved memorabilia.

very poignant. The soul of MJ's glove is a interesting theme.

Country Boy Toy

When I was country boy
Ma and Pa couldn’t afford
No fancy store bought toy
So for that Christmas
Ma did some stiches
And made me up britches
Pockets with holes cut through
So I had something I could use
And play with too.

Stilettos


Tippy toes first
Then
Sliiiide down my suicide arch
I am torture ha ha
Yesss
My front goes to a point
That no woman has naturally
But God damned I am a sexy bitch.....
A devil in rec
My height gives your calves
Defintion
Makes your legs long and lovely
With fish nets.....unnnnn
And your hubby just might take you
Dancing
If I;m around,,,,,,
And yeah, i might cripple you
But at least you'll look
Goooood

Snugglebuck
I really like the flow of this one. It gave off a dust bowl, Deep South depression era vibe

Calamitygin
The stiletto has got to be one of the greatest mysteries to me. I can definitely picture the shoe alive an sadistic

A Coat for Jimmy

The finest specimen I ever have seen
Clearly belonged on a Hollywood screen
So handsome, so witty and so Debonair
Well spoken, well groomed with long flowing hair
A saint and a sinner with a glint in his eye
Made most males jealous and all females sigh
The worst of enemies but the best of friends
A super hero to most despite changing trends
Helping the needy, pouring scorn on the greedy
Pure of heart and just occasionally seedy
Taking from the rich and giving to the poor
A strange non-profit seeking entrepreneur
Always ready to assist and to help
But if you behaved badly he’d give you a skelp
Just, fair and friendly and never a brat
Such was the resume of King Willie the cat
King of the alley boss of his patch
To all female felines a bit of a catch
Dined out on pizza and take away scraps
Had a discarded pillow for many catnaps
Had many admirers but fewer close friends
As a friend you could expect many dividends
Living in the basement of a steamy Laundromat
Was his bested friend was Jimmy the rat
A rat with a very strange affliction
Caused by his wanton sewerage addiction
All the other rats thought it a hoot
Jimmy the rat was as bald as a coot
Jimmy the rat was always sneezing
Mainly because he was always freezing
He was Chittering and chattering
His teeth were always clattering
Always chilled right to the bone
His squeaking had a nasally tone
In bright sunny days or winter storm
He’d no real way of keeping warm
Life for Jimmy could be no rougher
All he could do was shiver and suffer
King Willie new this could not go on
If it didn’t change poor Jiimmy’d be gone
So armed with a cloak and a black satin mask
He set about the save Jimmy task
He collected fur balls from all of his mates
And sexually active from all of his dates
He shaved the tail of Robbie the skunk
And stole the wig from Bobbie the drunk
He shaved a squirrel he found lying dead
From a nut allergy or so everyone said
He pulled up chewing gum stuck to the path
He recruited a spider he found in the bath
Back to the alley with all of his stuff
On the way there he picked up some fluff
He sat down to work by the light of the moon
There was him and Bobbie and Frank the racoon
All through the night they slogged and they toiled
Poor Jimmy was slipping they could not be foiled
They cut four leg holes in the drunk mans wig
And fashioned a hood from the squirrel tail sprig
Frank knitted socks from the fur from the skunk
Washed in a puddle so they were pre-shrunk
Spinning the fur balls into fine thread
Stretching chewing gum ready to shred
Sticking the squirrel fur to the gum
Leaving a round hole right at the bum
In the main just for Jimmy’s tail of course
And also when he shat they’d be no need to force
Finished with button stolen from the shop
Sewn nice and tight so they wouldn’t pop
As a result of hard work and precurement cunning
The finished coat was visually quite stunning
They delivered the coat to Jimmy the rat
It fitted perfectly well Jimmy wasn’t that fat
He huggled and snuggled embracing himself
He could already feel it improving his health
A warm fuzzy feeling, in his heart did arise
He blew hard his nose, and dabbed both his eyes
Thanking King Willie, Bobbie and Frank
He pulled his tail through, he gave it a yank
He strolled down the gutter elated and proud
The other rats so impressed that they bowed
Leaving all the best bits in the cesspits
To Jimmy the rat and his coat of many fur bits

That was an epic. full of flavor and musk, I really immersed myself in the imagery, I could almost smell it.

Space suit

Wear me with pride
Show the true colors
Of your patriotism
Be a leader
Of your country
Of this world
Of the human race
Go into that darkness
Beyond the majestic
Mountains and fields
Of golden hues
Blaze the trail
For the rest of us
To follow
Go higher
Than anyone else before
Go farther and leave the
Bread crumbs for us to see
I will keep you safe
And warm
In my embrace
And when you return
Tell everyone
Of what
We've done