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Best Sock Poems

Below are the all-time best Sock poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of sock poems written by PoetrySoup members

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See also: Best Famous Poems

Details | Sock Poem | |

Where's My Sock?

I have an important question
That men have asked for years
Where does my sock go to
Whenever it disappears

Does the dryer really eat it
Or is this just a myth
We need some kind of radar
To track that sucker with

Some have said it's sock fairies
That carries one sock away
Others say a conspiracy
So it's more we'll have to pay

I've even had a search party
Me, my wife, and kid
We turned that house upside down
But still, that sucker hid

I also had a milk carton
With it's picture on the side
But everytime I looked at it
I just broke down and cried

Well, I guess I know the answer
And I know what I have to do
Since I only have one sock,
I'll only wear one shoe

Details | Sock Poem | |

Wind Sock Kite-Mare

Wind sock kites can be seen along the beach
Couldn’t afford one; always out of reach
     Until that Wednesday
     When one got away
“Please, Mom, let it be mine,” I did beseech

No other kids were in sight on the sand
I grabbed the string; the kite took off as planned
     Seagull in the way
     Tangled right away
Snarled in the jetty, I saw it crash land

*Entry for Gwendolen’s “Let’s Go Fly a Kite” contest
Dedicated to Alexa Brus who has helped me hone my writing abilities and gave me the encouragement to continue writing when my muse escaped.

Details | Sock Poem | |

Missing sock mystery solution

One of the biggest mystery's 
Known to man that makes no sense to me
Is why when washing a pair of socks
You can only ever find one
The solution don't buy just two socks but three
One for the sock fairy and a pair for us
End of the mystery.

Case closed mystery solved.

Peter Dome.copyright.2014.July.

Details | Sock Poem | |

the man with the sock tattoos

it all began with a lazy man,
who on his least lazy day was certainly more
than you or i,
and on one especially lazy day,
this rotund sloth 
sat in his own filth one late afternoon,
after not showering for days,
with crumbs crusted in his chest hair & the 
stench of stale beer flowing from his mouth
every time he opened it to yawn

this man focused on all the domestic 
errands that he needed to make in a day
(every single one which made him heave his immense
disgusting body &
try to catch his breath while sweating out the
alcohol through his
from taking a piss to making something to eat
(which he never did, if in fact he could waddle to the
phone, call and order some food to be brought to 
and he found himself sitting in his stained recliner,
staring at his yellow-toed bare feet

as the feet seemed to stare back at him,
his mind drifted to all the time he spent finding socks to
wear, as well as the 
time he invested in pulling them over his feet &
it angered him,
knowing that he would never get those moments back---
he wondered just what he could have accomplished,
from stuffing his fat face to watching whole seasons of canceled
so he came up with a solution

he put on his unlaced old sneakers without socks &
picked up all of his socks that were dirty,
including all those on the floors in his prospective rooms,
he went outside behind his apartment building and set fire to all those
socks that he had nestled in a large smelly pile---
the stench lingered down his street
this sloth had a buddy who did tats,
he lived in the neighborhood,
and so to the tat-man went the sloth---
sooner than later he was sitting in a recliner there
being asked by his equally fat & disgusting
(but beautifully tattooed) friend,
just what exactly it was that he wanted done &

the sloth in question replied
“give me a pair of white hanes cushioned crews,
one for the left & one for the right”---then
he raised his bare feet up so that his fat-tat-friend
would be able to see the canvas on which he was about to 

long thereafter,
the fat-tat-friend shook the hand of his sloth friend who
scratched under his armpit & then
walked out with two new sock feet---

some time in the following weeks he gained employment as a 
sock model for hanes---
the end.

Details | Sock Poem | |

Puppy's Single-Sock Diet

They say fiber’s good for 
the digestion. I favor cotton: 
Jimmy’s gray athletic sox
tossed haphazard on the floor

and tasting of ball games 
on the corner lot.
Missy’s socks in pastel blue – 
I always leave her one of two.

And once, (what a treat!) 
Mom laid out a pair of fancy 
argyle socks, brand-new 
for Dad’s big feet.  

I took just one, leaving 
its mate so everyone can see
how its subtle hues
complement red-sable Me.