Best Sock Poems
one sock
three toes showing
darn it
John G. Lawless
©10/18/2019
It occurred by carelessness and mere happenstance.
If I could move, I would stand and perform a victory dance.
Dropped behind the washing machine, sliding down the back.
I am a solitary sock and my color is black.
I lost my partner a few months ago,
paired with another, in the drawer to be stowed.
We didn't get along, entwined and rolled together.
He smelt like dirty feet, especially in hot weather.
I caught glimpses of my old mate, while hanging on the line.
Called out greetings to each other, he seems to be doing fine.
I noticed a small hole, frayed across his tip.
He said the left toe nail was badly in need of a clip.
I've been stuck behind the machine, all covered in dust.
At first happy with my freedom, now leaving is a must.
I know in time I will be found, like Roger, the blue.
He told me about it once when we were doubled in a shoe.
We socks are always blamed for going missing in the wash.
But human carelessness is usually the cause of our loss.
One more thing about us socks, and this is a fact.
We don't like to be folded and rolled, we like to lie flat.
In the land of laundry, I search high and low,
for missing socks - wondering where do they go?
Each morning, I search for a matching pair,
but they seem to have disappeared into thin air.
They were together in my washing machine,
I set the right temperature for them to clean.
I saw how they frolicked in soapy delight,
then placed them in the dryer to warm their wet plight.
Perhaps they eloped on a wild escapade,
or is there a sock monster renegade?
Stealing mismatched socks to make you vexed,
such a dilemma leaves the mind perplexed.
Does the sock monster consume them for dinner?
Or are they traded as a money spinner?
Or maybe they're hiding in some secret lair,
giggling at me with a mischievous glare.
Maybe to them it's just a humorous game,
but wearing odd socks can cause bullying shame.
The main issue though, that always irritates,
is new socks mean my bank balance deflates.
I've looked everywhere, beneath every chair,
but those sneaky socks don't care my feet are bare.
They vanish like ghosts in the hush of the night,
leaving me confused from this sockless spite.
So here I sit with a solitary sock,
feeling defeated, dazed from the after shock.
Thinking it's a relief, that I don't wear frocks
and I should protect my drawers with padlocks!!!
In the factory where he worked
When he noticed, he had to scoff
Several men were walking around
With one sock on and one sock off
He had seen them with earplug strings
Hanging out of their mouth, a phase
As he walked into the restroom
He thought, "Never in all my days!"
On the "Throne" he saw no paper
He thought he should watch who he mocks
When the guy in the next stall said,
"You'll have to use one of your socks!"
In the land of the laundry room, a mystery does reside,
Of the missing sock that vanished, leaving its mate behind.
Was it a daring escape, a sock rebellion in the night?
Or simply an accident, a case of sock flight?
The lonely sock sits abandoned without its partner near,
Hoping for a reunion, shedding a single tear.
It dreams of the days when they frolicked as a pair,
Now it’s all alone, feeling quite despair.
Perhaps the missing sock found a new calling in life,
As a puppet in a play, or a hat for a mouse quite nice,
Or maybe it’s just hiding, playing a sneaky game?
Laughing at the chaos it’s caused, adding to the fame.
Perhaps sent to a dimension that’s forbidden?
Did they form a gang, the odd sock brigade?
Taking over the laundry room, in a colorful charade?
But in the world of laundry, anything can occur,
So next time you do laundry, keep a vigilant eye,
For that missing sock may return, with a twinkle in its eye.
But until then, cherish the odd ones left behind,
For they add a touch of whimsy to your daily grind.
There once was a sock
That was left at the laundromat
His owner forgot to take it back
and for a while in the dryer he sat
Then someone else came and he tumbled again
Then he was put in a bag and taken away
he was soon taken out by a lady named Jane
But matched none of her socks, with none he could play
He was used to dust things by this lady named Jane
When he got dirty he was thrown in a pile
Then off to the laundromat he was taken again
Where in the machine he spun for a while
Then into the dryer he was thrown
Spinning away without a care
When the dryer stopped he felt static, unknown
It was a surprise when Jane left him right there
Then his owner came in and used the same dryer!
It seemed once more he would have to roam
He was taken out when temps got higher
Then put in a bag and taken back home
Sock it to me Baby
He strut like a proud peacock in his crocs
Green they were, worn with lime shocking pink socks
He asked for a date
I said "no way mate"
"Only because I have no matching frocks."
He said he just didn't care what frock I wore
'Cause he'd got crocs of many colours in store
"A lady in red “
I answered in jest
Suspecting that he was aiming to score.
Both of us went on the date dressed in red
"You must be clothed for a bet" someone said
My dates crocs and socks
Gave out vibrant shocks
'Cause all he wore matched, down to boxers and vest.
I answered "yes and it's for charity"
And we raised loads to put in the kitty
My date turned out great
We're now best of mates
His socks and crocs are my flitty ditty.
“Sock it to me baby, come hold me tight
Your crocs so excite me, love me tonight.”
8th June 2021
At our house we had what was called an ‘odd sock drawer,
A place which the whole family could keep odd socks to store.
Quite often the matching sock was to be seen no more.
When the drawer became quite full Mum declared war.
She bought a sizable pack of large safety pins.
And threw the contents of odd socks out, to fill a few bins.
Each of us was given quite a few pins. No more sox would be odd.
Pinned together as we take them off when the last step was trod.
Into the wash they go still tightly pinned together.
Now through thick and thin and any type of weather,
Those pesky socks can’t come apart even if they try.
The dryer doesn’t like their pins so it’s out on the line to dry.
Cheers for Mum she fought the battle with a wink and a nod,
She won the war. Now we have no more socks that are odd.
Now we can fill that draw with anything else that we please.
It seems to be getting filled with miscellaneous keys.
Keys that have been lying around and don’t seem to fit any door.
A place where the whole family could keep odd keys to store.
I wonder how long it will take her to find a solution for odd keys.
Any suggestions accepted. Use the comment section please.
O breezy Spring leaves,
Show-offs of stupendous beauty.
Your breathtaking heights
and swooning low brights,
Puffy delights
As you bud and sway.
You delightfully chill me
Goosebumps on arms
and brace.
Fingertips are nearly blue,
brazenly so on this Spring-a-ling day.
An open space,
front door unhinged,
ready to be sanded and stained.
I’ll swing a jacket
about my shoulders
and sock up my feet.
Sock it to me, Spring!
I will spring into action
that is if
I can retract my wiggly fingers
back from the letters
leaping onto white space.
Reminds me of the swoosh of beach -
its tremendous peaks.
Not a damaging Spring
but quite mischievous!
I am a blue sock.
I'm the bluest sock there ever was.
There never was a bluer sock, because
I lost my loving partner by the lint-screen fuzz.
We worked together as a pair.
We lived a life of quiet pride.
We'd protect those two feet - me and
My hundred percent cotton bride.
Did this life of duty bore her?
Or make her want to play with fire?
She followed her desire - and so,
After work we went into the dryer.
She danced and played, rolled and tumbled
With so many other socks that day.
Then she paired up with another,
Leaving me to forever say...
I am a blue sock.
I'm the bluest sock there ever was.
There never was a bluer sock, because
I lost my loving partner by the lint-screen fuzz.
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.
Sock monkey,
Cozy on my shelf;
Who knows you better,
Than the memories of myself?
Tears drenched my pillow,
I held you as I cried;
Through father's drunken fury,
Together we would hide
Little sock monkey,
I'd pray that I were dead;
Helpless was dear mother,
As we laid there in my bed
Alcohol's indignity,
A father's mortal hate;
You were my only ally,
No dreams to compensate
Sock monkey,
You never left my side;
Fear has made me stronger,
While heartache coincides
The years have brought me joy,
Time's left you old and worn;
Your hand-stitched smile's eternal,
No realm for mock or scorn
Here I am, a man...
A husband, a father, a friend;
Little sock monkey,
My companion 'til the end
Hung my Christmas sock
Darned neatly for the mantel
So Santa could leave
Nuts, fruit maybe peppermint
Winter often harshly cold
Never wanted much
Just a big red tricycle
To ride my sister
Around on the long front porch
Red tricycle was missing
Dad quickly vanished
Had owner to open store
On Christmas morning
Santa left it on front porch
Could not stuff into stocking
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
I saw it there in the road: A sock!
How, thought I, had it come there to be?
Did it endeavor to escape a foot?
Discarded and black as the blackest soot.
Yet now it's found to be in front of me?
This will not do; This never knowing.
Investigation! I must insist.
Immediately my day has to stop.
Following this crumb that had come to drop
I halted the traffic who were now pissed.
Approach did I, all the horns ablaze.
Undeterred, I cried out "No never!"
But soon felt I anything but smitten
To retrieve not a sock but a mitten.
Another disaster altogether.
Laundry's a tedious task
that is just what I think
Curious, and I must ask 'cause this has me on the brink
Why is one sock always stubborn?
Why does it leave it's partner behind?
When matching 'em up I am so forlorn
are they just trying to be unkind?
Maybe they think it is hilarious
to play this prank on me
I do not think it is funny
Together these socks must be!!
Eventually they all get together
Maybe they party when I'm not home
Do they plan which sock will sneak away next?
Do they have a plan where it will roam?
It sure makes laundry exciting as I play this guessing game
Maybe these woolen beauties
don't want my interest in laundry to wane.