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Funny Dedication Poems | Funny Poems About Dedication

These Funny Dedication poems are examples of Funny poems about Dedication. These are the best examples of Funny Dedication poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |


"Made In China"

They can have my money
If it saves me money

The toys I played with when I was young,
Says I enjoyed their hands
The Labels read 

The cheap material on my back, the shoes I wore. 
How easily they faded and tore
However, I enjoyed their hands
The Tags on my rags;

The car I own saves money on gas
A tiny Honda Civic, takes me everywhere
I love my sweet silver car
"Manufactured in China"

The never been used--Made in the USA--cookware I own,
Says, I don't work hard at all:)
Yummy to Chinese all you can eat take Outs  
Thank you China for being part of this world
Better Yet!
Thank you China, for making this world a part of yours.

Shipped easily in a box


Copyright © SKAT A

Details | Clerihew | |

Bill Clinton

Bill Clinton, the 42nd President,
was quite the musical, White House resident.
He would play a mean saxophone,
while Monica skillfully blew the trombone.

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner

Details | Lyric | |

A poem for YOU

In this world of Uncertainties I’m the man that you can trust And in my words of sincerity That my love would never last. And if you could only feel, what i feel for you You can ask me “why?” so you can see the truth Like our love that tightens the rope, Like a light that would give us hope. As you watch the dark skies Let me grab the moon for you, And as I catch the bright stars That’s the way you can see me through As this planet turns as it always will And things go wrong and you don’t know what to feel Hold my hand for it will make us strong Like a wind, we will carry on The wind blow that sings a hymn for you For they know what does love means for the two Love is blind, and not deaf So how’s success if you’re not ready to bet? In this poem with full of rhymes, A full of love, Babe can you be mine? I don’t expect too much from you Why should I? If you complete my whole. “Till death do us part” that’s what they have said But why do struggles crash them ahead? Don’t ask me when my love will last, To count all of our quarrels, is that a must? Now and Forever is all that I promise No day dreaming and without reminiscence As the matter of time, as the time passes by Together we stand, together you and I
A poem for my Girlfriend for our anniversary :) pls comment and rate... you are free to judge and criticize my work :) God Bless

Copyright © Emmanuel Fajutagana

Details | Shape | |



     ?                      ?
                       A L
                       N I


Copyright © Deborah Burch

Details | Lyric | |

Beer Pong Balls

-Sing along to Jingle Bells-

Beer pong balls! Beer pong balls!
Landing in my cup.
The more you sink, the more I drink.
It's Christmas, let's get drunk!


Beer pong balls! Beer pong balls!
Landing in my cup.
The more you make, the more I take.
It's Christmas, lets get drunk!

Drinking Michelobe... Sipping on some Jack...
We just made two cups... Give us the balls back!
Ha. Ha. Ha.
Guys can finger cups... Girls know they can blow...
I'm hall of fame, In this game, cause I drink like a pro


Beer pong balls! Beer pong balls!
Landing in my cup.
The more you sink, the more I drink.
It's Christmas, let's get drunk!


Beer pong balls! Beer pong balls!
Landing in my cup.
The more you make, the more I take.
It's Christmas, lets get drunk!

A day or two ago... Drinking Miller Light...
I had won eight games, and then got in a fight...
Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!
We ran out of beer... Had to get some more...
If I'm alive, then I can drive, let's all go to the store!


Beer pong balls! Beer pong balls!
Landing in my cup.
The more you sink, the more I drink.
It's Christmas, let's get drunk!


Beer pong balls! Beer pong balls!
Landing in my cup.
The more you make, the more I take.
It's Christmas, lets get drunk!

Copyright © Travis Flasnick

Details | Couplet | |

Loony Tunes

<                                        Cascading lakes and streams
                                           The loon stands out it seems

                                           Minnesota's state bird
                                           I know it must sound absurd

                                           Adopted in nineteen sixty one
                                           Wails and yodels heard under the sun

                                          Black and white bearing red eyes
                                          Wingspans five feet can make one cry

                                          Body lengths up to three feet
                                          Yet  clumsy on lands and moss peat

                                          They are high speed flyers
                                          And great underwater divers

                                          They can dive up to ninety feet
                                          In pursuit of fish they want to eat

                                         They are even on our license plates
                                         An critical habitat drawn on metal slates

                                         Twelve thousand of these unique birds
                                         God that has to be a lot of turds

                                        But for now I'll enjoy it's captured views
                                        Of this beautiful loon and it's most colorful hues

Written By Katherine Stella
Entry For Mini - Blog  Beautiful Bird Contest
By Constance ~ A Rambling Poet

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Narrative | |

Reporting Live across the World

Reporting live on the soup, with Americas MOST. WANTED. POETS.
 Standing here with our host John, 
With an exclusive update on criminal poets, captured and on the run.
Switching over to you John,. "Thank you P.D., lets give thanks to all the 
P.M.W. tipsters, and our lovely F.B.I. agent Andrea Dietrich (Andy) & U.S. 
Marshal Shirley Harrison (S.H.)

Capturing 1 infamous fugitive Nikko Palmario, a comment crusader going contest crazy. 
Christopher Brantley, still at large U.S. Marshall (S.H.) says, "This brilliant fugitive leaves no 
trace." A dangerous poet posting comments longer than his poetry. Leaving a distinction of 
excellence in any short form.  P.M.W.tipsters Demand to be brought down to poetic justice.
P.M.W. Tip, led Marshall (S.H.) to the most notorious blond bombshell on the soup.
Captured on her vacation Linda Marie Bariana, lost control of her blond moment.
Paralyzing her laptop with sand. Covering to other crimes with to much poetry rhyme.
Her # 1 crime, entering a dark poet contest, to bad for this SWEET HEART who shines.         
Wanted in all nations Lynette Chachere a realistic poetic criminal against reality & dreams.
F.B.I.(Andy) Says"Our sweet Lynn, carries a weapons against all Enigma wonders."
A shameful crime to bring down a poets spirit with an intervene of her intense poetry.
F.B.I. Most wanted poetic lunatics, Billy the Kidster, with a Mental Poet Disorder.
A maniac on the rampage, a poet who lost it, with a crime slamming himself.
F.B.I. Most wanted viscous fugitive Christopher D. Aechtner, alias Vomiticus Grammaticus.
This former Canadian elusive bad boy, topping the hot list, a harmless poetic threat. 
Dakarai Cobbs, a 30 year old soups spot robbing thug. F.B.I.(Andy) Says "We offer 1 million
For the capture of this accused space invader aka the Sonnet man.
A poetic gang banger posting out of control, with a drive by of 130 hits in less than a month
Nathan Dilts, at large with the biggest search in poet history. 
A terrorizing poet implanting each poet with frightening thoughts and images so twisted.         
Making his followers absorb his evil poetic plots, while connecting center of dots.
F.B.I.(Andy) Says he is a mastermind with explosive & twisted thoughts.
Marshall (S.H.)Says "there is nothing we won't do to take his Poet License away.
  ((sorry no room for the Poet Destroyer))
Back to you P.D. "thank you John, there you have it soupers a few top criminal poets."
Reporting live on the soup P.D., all across the world enjoying our poetry security

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Haiku | |

It is now

Ain't a word, you said.
but it takes a daring gust 
for things start to be.

Copyright © viviane leite

Details | Couplet | |

Texan Gold Nugget

The day I came around the Soup
Texan cutie made me take giant loop

Her way of writing sometimes makes me laugh
Have to adore her like some of us worships the Golden Calf

Call herself pd
Guess that is the way it is supposed to be

Now she has sponsored me with a PM
Thought she was messin`with my brain,that lil`gem

In this game I knew from day one
Give from your heart,or you are gone

I will get what I give,she has taught me
Precious she is that lil`Texan Gold Nugget,called pd

4th.February 2012

Dedicated to Irma,rocket princess and soup boiler pd.
Love ya as much as a friend can do

Copyright © Arild Andresen Ertsland

Details | Verse | |

Andrea Upside Down

                      I rang on Andrea`s door the other morning
                    Wondered if she wanted to come out and play
          "Good God in Heaven" she nearly screamed as the door opened
         With toes attached to the roof drainage I was hanging upside down
             Stupid grin on my face-I presented a bouquet of red roses

1st.February 2012

Hope our dear Andrea Dietrich takes this with a kind heart.I dedicate this one to her,because  of her always loving person-and for always sticking by when the going gets tough.Love her humor too:=)

Copyright © Arild Andresen Ertsland

Details | Verse | |

Enigma's Calling

Extraordinary, I am 
Craving for unusual thoughts
Endless exploration without boundary
Understanding  the gift I shouldn't fought
Invisible drawings in my mind
Playing with the words in my head
My passion
The food of my soul
I feel so lucky
The random thoughts
A lifetime companion
A self esteem builder
A goal planner
Be my forever life saver
I write more
I talk less
I want to please
I chose to bore
What tickles me the most
Is to know what I'm for
Thinking is my love
When  my mind goes empty
That's when I hate
My day dreaming lust
Organizing things in my mind
Playing roles of simulation
Where images of art is my vision
And words of attitude is my heart

Copyright © Katrina Salem

Details | Rhyme | |


Carolyn Devonshire
Sunny day golden locks
Friends till the end or in hock
Cheery jewels and holly socks

Entertain us with your verse
Until they take us away in a hearse

Poetess the mostest and a lovely hostess
Holiday with a snowflake princess

Thank you for my lovely cheering wishes
Surprised me into a better day!!

Copyright © Doris Culverhouse

Details | Clerihew | |

Has it been a year already-I added a few more

As thephilosopher  readies for his p soup anniversary 
Remembering he found this place last Christmas Day
Surely the best gift he did receive
Now for some holiday fun, DON”T LEAVE

Denise Narayadu I can't end the line with her name
To mispronounce it with a bad rhyme would be a shame
Her writing has very much intrigued me
In her poems often it's myself that I see

Of Anne Lise Andressen what can I toast
She's in a contest of which Debbi G is the host
Of who Santa Clause is her knowledge has a lack
If she asked I could easily have told her it's Jack

I mean look at Jack, white beard, hair a jolly feller
If my put my original line here, I'd be locked in a cellar
Any American could mistake Canada for the north pole
It's cold, I've never been there and at times there's a lot of snow

Jack Ellison in his Santa role this time of year
Oh from the straight and narrow often does he veer
Constant approval from the p soup ladies, I know he smiles
If I was Santa his naughty list would stretch for miles

Andrea D secretly a hater of the Villanelle
That’s atrocious what’s my basis you say
She hosted a contest and a thousand forms she will allow
BUT a max of 12 lines leaves me saying CHINGADO

PD, the SWEETEST poet destroyer she told me
A philosopher asks how sweet a destroyer can be
The poet in me reads her work with much confusion
The imagery addicting but my understanding a delusion

Becca Lucas the girl who lost her muse
If she had schizophrenia she may have several to lose
However several other problems this would pose
If one of them was mean I may be a victim of her prose

FJ Thomas gave me the wonderful gift of the Fibonacci
She might deserve a song but my muse isn’t Liberace
She wrote the Art of Being Broken, a deep piece but not long
Did some guy really leave a comment quoting a poison song
And finally I will close with Richard Lamoureux
If you haven’t seen his clerihew read it TODAY
Quiet humorous, he pokes fun with affection
His first clerihew was a work of perfection

Yes on a few new names Wayland did call
Unfortunately he still hasn’t got to them all
Some he intentionally won’t mention
It’s Christmas Eve and he seeks no dissention 

Copyright © wayland bunch

Details | Sonnet | |


I am looking right at you and you don’t even know it.
I will deter your intent and throw you off a steep cliff.
But in the air will be my snuff and gruff you can sniff.
Eventually I will have some sort of mercy of just a bit.

Surely we are above empowering manners of tat for tit. 
Maybe I’ll light a scented candle and blow you my whiff.
Or maybe I will strand you grounding your bones to stiff.
Opposed or decomposed and still composed I won’t quit.

Upside down,
Inside or out,
I’ll throw down.
I am the clout.

Don’t mistake my identity,
Either or, it’s your eternity.

® Registered: Ann Rich   2009

Copyright © Ann Rich

Details | Light Poetry | |

AMY WINEHOUSE-Should have went to rehab

They tried to make you go to Rehab...
you said...
Shoulda' packed your bags ta' Rehab...
you wouldn't 
 boo-hoo hot-mess

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO

Details | Quatrain | |

Granddads Book

In my quiet times I often try,
To remember places I've been.
To recall folk I have passed by,
And sights that I have seen.

There is nothing wrong with my mind,
Sometimes my memory is quite refined.
I think it's filled over many a year,
With so much junk, nothing seems clear.

So, I made up my mind to write it all down,
To recall it all caused me to frown
It started like I was in the dark,
A memory flared, I was in the park.

That day in the park was just the lever,
I found my mind was as good as ever.
Tho' times and places got out of line,
I wrote it all down, now wasn't I clever!

I'm nearly at the end of my story,
A journey I'm glad that I took.
For my grandsons to read in years to come,
I'll call it Granddads Book.

© Dave Timperley 2012.

Copyright © Dave Timperley

Details | I do not know? | |

* on the horizon

Out on the horizon dances the animals,
free from their bondage that held them once.
They are hidden well you must look hard to see
them through the brush, grass, and the trees.
Enemies, prey for others to eat they were once but,
but now they all are dancing free out on the horizon.

Dedicated to: Dane Ann Smith-Johnson
with Love from: The Keeper (as I said this is what
Heaven must be like.)

Copyright © Author Rhonda Kay Hero - Wilson

Details | Couplet | |

Johnny Depp

My favorite actor I can easily say would have to be Johnny Depp,
When he has a new movie coming out, it puts a spring in my step;

My husband thinks that he’s insane, but that adds to his allure,
Has there ever been another actor that can play in rolls so obscure;

Take Edward Scissorhands for example, who else could pull that off,
There’s not another actor that could, but still my husband scoffs;

So versatile in playing roles from Cry-Baby to Sleepy Hollow,
And I’ll admit while watching scenes in Chocolat, I found it hard to swallow;

I have yet to see another actor who could match Depp in his whit,
Although Alice in Wonderland kind of freaked me out a bit;

The Pirates of the Caribbean movies all had me on my toes,
But Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was a little weird, I suppose;

That having been said, he’s brilliant, No other can compare,
And when I see his picture posted, I can’t help but stop and stare!

~For Amy Green's Choose One, Have Fun Contest~
-My Subject is Johnny Depp-

Copyright © Tirzah Conway

Details | Rhyme | |

To The Men Of Poetry Soup

Oh I would give Christopher Higgins a peck..
as I read the words penned by John Heck..
and there just would not be such a spark without
the writes of Michael Degenhardt...

just like it would be a sin, not to feel the words
of Mohammad Yamin...
John Loving, Sean Kelly and Des Juan
the writes of these makes a duckling feel like a swan...

now it seems as if this one is too important
to pass up the likes of Michael Jordan..
and always one to write with good sense
I can't forget my man whose name is Vince...
now it would seem such a shame, to forget
my friend John Rhinem's whole name...

also it just makes no sense to forget the
writes of Joseph Spence..

and how could you not understand
that Brian Strand is the man...

let's not play games not one to poke
don't forget the talents of Mr. James Foulk...

and for that matter how could I forget
my friend Daver..

oh and yes let's close the curtain
but let's not forget the writes of Derrick burton...

these men can truly make the words cry
if you think I'm lying be my abili..

with this list I can always continue
so much great talent on this soup's menu..

if I've left anyone out, I apologize
it's not a smite, and not a guise..
these are a very talented group
that represent on poetry soup.


Copyright © Deneen White

Details | Limerick | |



Seeing the posting of the zoo unicorn
Could not wait to go see his horn
My eyes just could not believe
The boy I had  been deceived
Poor horse got thrown a lot of popcorn

 a Linda-Marie   = (contest) =

Copyright © SKAT A

Details | Free verse | |



You belong to her I belong to him 
A stripping tragedy, 
With tears, I was pushed into another man's arm
Ending physically, never mentally

After 5 years
My new man gave his love to another
On a trustful night
After baring his first child
The lights in me had to give
Putting up with my new mistake
After all, I used him, hiding all the tears.
with this man I live so unhappily
My new life, I compare to a drunk 
---without having to drink a beer.
This man of beauty by my side
A well-settled ride
I settled for a friend who broke my heart 
I allow this foolish friend,
 to do what he wants with my heart
Who cares love does not exist tonight
My friend, the enemy in my bed
You become my dream man, every time I close my eyes
Every night, 
When I lay next to you
You become him, my long time love affair
In my heart, mind and soul, 
After 2 years, 
Every time, he caresses every side of me
With a stroke of his hand, it becomes your hand
without a lie I say the truth the man I have 
becomes you when we make love in bed

To: my husband who is sitting across the room 
     I am telling him to play a song over and over.
     he does not realize the song belongs to another
     HA HA HA in your face.. SKAT

Copyright © SKAT A

Details | Free verse | |

Bladder Problems in Class

Numbers on 
White board…names written hori-

Students ask
To go pee…right when class starts – 
THAT’S just wrong…

Bathroom line
Of students who have bladder
Problems – WOW!

People are
Not using lunchtime to do 
Their business 

No one knows
When to do their duties – SER-

Copyright © J. W. M. Earnings

Details | Acrostic | |


Cookies are addictive!
OoOoH! Here's one to snatch!
Okay...where's the chocolate chips?
Kraving too many of these treats
I want some now! But...I might get beeefy...
Every bite is mouthwatering, soft and crisp
Should I take another cookie?

Copyright © J. W. M. Earnings

Details | Dramatic monologue | |


I love eye-service
A great deal of sycophancy
I am big on people-pleasing
I do eye-service 
To Him whose eyes are ever on me

I love to make Him feel good about me
So I flatter Him with praises 
I honor Him with dances
I sing of His past deeds as if they happen yesterday
I thank Him for what He has not done as if it is already done

I never miss opportunity to impress HIM
I am always all over Him standing, kneeling 
Atimes, I roll all over Him on the ground
Many times I jump up on him like squirrel 
I often weep because of Him for no sad reasons

I never miss opportunity to boast about Him
In my sycophantic eyes, He is above reproach
I can never complain about Him
Because I am his biggest fan; He can do no wrong 
All His ways and words are eternally right in my sycophantic eyes

Because I am His pleaser
I dote over all His published works and theses
I am a collector of everything ever written or said about Him 
I make Him the theme of my songs and poems
His friends are my friends and His enemies, my enemies

I never miss opportunity to show Him off
I drop His name to flaunt my connection with Him
I place Him higher than my loved ones
His ways, I walk, His words, I utter, His kind of life I live
In my sycophantic way, I write Him this poem

He is my God…in whom I live and have my being

Copyright © ifedayo oshin

Details | List | |

I love

I love your soft kisses.I love firm but gentle touch.  I love the way you bite your lip.I love you soooooo much.
 I love the way you look at me.I love the way you smile.  I love the way you're shy sometimes,Every once and a while.
 I love it when you look at me, When I'm not looking at you.  You think I do not realize it, But really...I do.
 I love the way you cuddle. I love the way you sleep.  I love how you bite your lip when something turns you on. I love the way you rub your neck,when you are thinking so deep.
I love all of you,Your nose, your lips, your hair, even your smelly feet.  I love how you drink Dr Pepper. Morning noon and night.  I love how if someone puts me down your always there first one there ready to fight.  I will never stop loving you. You are so amazingly sweet.
 I love that I love you.I have loved you from the very start.  I LOVE ALL OF YOU,You alone hold the key to my heart.

Copyright © mandy cabral

Details | Senryu | |

Quit Running

mom say's
quit running !!!!

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Rhyme | |


Problems in the mirror may be further than they appear
Don’t fear when they’re near, they’ll soon disappear
help is here, let me give your mind a steer
I’ma just keep writin’ until it all appears clear
coming to you live from the heart, no veneer here
closing in on 10,000 hours quick, nothing will interfere
I’ll turn these words to a career, this is only the first tier
found what I love, don’t care about 0’s at the cashier
You're wasting your time if you wouldn’t do it as a volunteer
Please don’t call me a poet, call me a word engineer
Haha, I can joke too, not all my poems are severe jeers
Stop while you’re ahead though, bout to shift into next gear
Pay attention, learn more in a poem than an academic year
Spare the sneer, wont quit til I sear all that you adhere
Persevere, attackin’ ya from the front both sides and the rear
Steer clear, don’t need no one’s cheer, you cohere?
Probably bust a drum if I spoke this, cauliflower ear
You don’t have to like me, but I bet you will revere
Change my name to Paul, inform you bout the brigadiers
See what I did there? Re-read those past 2 if it’s unclear
My minds my weapon, unlimited ammo, bandolier
Fully automatic, spraying bullets at everything insincere
Blowing up everything you thought you knew, bombardier
You got tunnel vision, widen your view, belvedere
This flow is delicate, elegant, like a chandelier
This flow leave ya weak in the legs like a baby deer
This flow has many sides and it’s well rounded like a sphere
A pioneer on the frontier, might stop and shed 1 tear
They say a writer never dies, guess this is a souvenir
Catch me down under drinkin' a Bundaberg ginger beer
This poems a joke, obscene, call me Edward Lear

Copyright © Zachary Alvstad

Details | Rhyme | |


Flailin’,  flailin’, flailin’;
There goes my ball sailin’
Into a trap, the water or the woods.

Flailin’, flailin’, flailin’;
You can hear me wailin’,
“Why won’t that damn ball go where it should?

Drives go right.  Putts go wrong.
I shank my wedges or ‘skull’em’ long.
My golf game’s just no damn good.

I’m swingin’ too hard & lookin’ up;
As if I’ll actually see it go in the cup….
As if it ever really would.

My alignment’s too far left or right.
My ball can find the only tree or trap in sight,
Even if the shot starts out lookin’ good.

These days, I carry some special tools:
A handheld weed eater with extra spools
And a pruning saw, in case I’m in the woods.  

I’ve even tried to ‘buy’ a better game.
No matter.  My scores were just as lame.
Those new clubs didn’t do what they should.

Bogies & doubles...even triples... are common scores.
I very rarely get pars any more.
Believe me, I’d change it if I could.

My buddies said it must be me,
A teaching pro I should go see.
They said he’d fix my game…..if anybody could.

The pro said, “Hit some balls while I watch you.
Just set up and hit’em like you normally do.
We’ll see if I can do your game any good.”

After the first bucket of balls I hit,
He calmly said, “Take two weeks off…then quit.
Take my advice.  You really should.”

Now, what really has me vexed,
I’m wondering what I’ll try next.
That pro’s advice was no damn good.

So, I struggle along with my flailin’ game;
But, strangely enough, have fun just the same,
Finding hope in rare shots that are actually good.

Copyright © Robert Candler

Details | Ode | |

Ode 2 My Poetry

Why can’t I do it how I want to do it?
Been told my rhymes are simplistic at best
I may violate pentameter but I write what I like
Why must it pass some journal’s vapid test?

Behind a block of writer’s I’ve been hiding
Cowed by thoughts of editing snafus
Trying to write deep, intensive tomes of valid lore
Only to be chastened and abused

There’s elegance found in concise expression
Saying all the world in just a line
No matter that I know this I belabor all my thoughts
Create an elegy for elegance in time

Onomatopoeia is my best friend
And alliteration waltzes through my dreams
Thoughts chatter, clatter, chirp and clunk around about my head
Demanding that they be released in streams

And after I have done what I have done here
Exposed my heart by opening my head
I send it forth with hope that someone will enjoy my words
And get rejection letters in their stead

But won’t you like my poem just a little?
I promise it won’t be a trite conceit
You say my writing’s convoluted, so, I strive to simplify it
Then you call my writing sophomoric and cheap

Yet still my writing exists, remonstrating
That whether it be ballad or blank verse
It should be able to do just exactly what it feels like
And it finds you and your editing, perverse

It says it does not care if it is published
Doesn’t want you to consider it profound
For if you did then it might accidentally be common
And make cool people like me put it down

But won’t you like my poem just a little?
At the very least try to be noncommittal

Copyright © Mari Roberts

Details | Free verse | |


I will start with using my hand as a guide
And in the end I will open my eyes that I will decide

I consider to do this with one thing in mind
I will close my eyes and will imagine it blind
With no colors or fractionation of the light
Just plain me and a vision with my hand as my sight

My hair is very coarse and some what fine
What I just described is so benign  
I twirl my hair and make it bend 
And I will say its very clean not oily on the ends

As I press on my forehead I simply feel a distinct part
I notice from hair to skin it is very different from the start
The simple partings from hair not like skin
I am going to feel with my other hand and begin

The smoothness of my skin like years of water eroding a rough rock surface smooth
Not just that my skin is like home to years of stories like scars and attitude
And when I raise my eyebrows the wrinkles it makes is more so for expression
I did not notice it with certain ideas, thoughts, and emotions

I run my hands down to my eyelids I feel movement of my eyes trying to peek
Eyelids that I have, vibrates with some kind of fear, Why?, that I will seek
Just now as I thought about it a sensation ran through my brain
My eyes is the world to me and that is true and not insane

Myself portrait of me is through my touch for now
But to finish it I will have to open my eyes soon and how
I been in a trance full of so many ideas just with my eyes closed
I run my hand on my nose and lips and I smile who could apposed

The feelings in the tip of my fingers rub on my chin and jaw with care
I do notice roughness of unshaved velcro gripping hair 
I skip my ears so I will sneak a feel with my fingers I chose
I notice it is like my nose with cartilage, so I don't suppose

I will now open my eyes that I will use a mirror to see myself
My head is oval shape and my neck is like a stump, please help
My skin is very tan and my eyes are brown with my eyes I see
With all the description with my hands, one sure thing is the same and key

It is the description of measurements that is what my hands and eyes can see me
With a smile I am looking into the mirror and I can describe that I am happy
Myself portrait of me is such a way to get to know myself once more
I will never think it was a waste of time or a bore

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast