‘Oft overlooked is the noble foot.
But please let me in, my 2 cents, put.
For, granted, it is so often, took.
Homely and crooked, though it may look,
still gets you there, that most noble foot.
Darrell Simmerman © 2026
Dancing with the stars
Some swirl
Toes curl
Once upon a time, dancing
Hully
Gully
Also, dancing
The twist
Get gist
Size matter in some dances
The bump
Big rump
Now adays
Hip hop
Don't flop
After Darth Vader danced with Ella, she became Mrs.
Ella
Vader
My right foot was swollen along with my middle toe
the doctor gave me antibiotics for infection shows
The swelling was reduced and hopefully I'll be cure
but my dog Sassy has become slightly absurd
Sassy licks my foot with attention to that toe she craves
when ever I lie in bed barefoot to rest at end of the day
At first I didn't notice with diabetes hard for me to feel
but a slight sensation and I look to reveal
The silly girl dog was licking my foot like a meal
Sassy what are you doing what is the big deal
I hung my foot over the bed but she jumped to the floor
and she continue licking my foot even more
So I have to wear a sock and she sniffs and whines
is she a nurse dog or wanting to dine
Cosmo was watching her lick my foot wondering why
so the big boy sniffed it than left the room to hide
Sassy is silly and when I lie in bed
she eagerly wants me barefoot as if she is to be fed
Some dogs can smell illness and can be train to alarm
Sassy enjoys licking my sick foot I guess there is no harm.
A foot alone
tries the water that ocean lays,
A foot alone
on sand placed within God's tears moan;
still the spray imprints on my face —
forgiving this tide that won't stay,
A foot alone
Sitting on a porch between two flags
I watch a man ride by on a bike,
a box of magic tied to his back.
Should I stop and ask him about it, Dad?
Should I ask God how you are getting along
in heaven without a bicycle? Without me?
Last night I forgot how it was --
the shape of your face, the slant of your nose,
the way you would laugh in the back
of your throat. You had laughed as you agreed
that my observation of rug makers, or scrub jays,
or magic trick artists was from a different
perspective that yours, one you had not
thought of before.
But now, I cannot recall what your perspective
was, as I balance grief and sanity in my old age.
I've forgotten so much since your absence,
so much of what we shared our many years.
But one thing I do recall, as I was only eight.
You said that you believed in a parallel
universe and asked if I could believe it, too.
The sun was warm on my shoulders
as we stood in our small dirt yard.
Skin felt the pain
While playing a peaceful golfing game
Challenging the course’s blister campaign
Terrorizing the toe
Forcing a temporary surgical sew
Oh
No
To keep this show
On the go
They must know
Basic health care
Not to scare
Removing infected nail
Transporting remains towards the waste management pail
Bloody and red
Now dead
Left as trash
Above the fairway grass
Next to Frank’s Furter
Who was murdered
After pork barrel spending
And over lending
Worth commending
Pending
Cooking the links
Hearing what others think
About another medical review
Of the pinkie one too
Country club house bound
And the parfect round
No bogeys in sight
Feeling right
Since all has healed
Closing the deal
Without a squeal
Or scream
From the green
Manicured and pristine
Ready for a four-day dream
she wore heels that were three feet tall
no longer small, no longer small
men backed away, when she came to town
intimidated, their faces swiftly went down
she passed a giraffe and patted his head
I had bed head too, he told his bunkmate Fred
Her ponytail is seen above the rooftops today
Stilt-like heels give her a view of people six blocks away
lose mind in the scuff that is underfoot
trust soot can be outrun
in dreams' cascade, burdens shun -
the art of wild abandon
duck and stay low
don’t let the enemy get a bead on you
watch out for freshly dug earth
watch your buddy’s six
eyes and ears open
one misstep and you’re a goner
don’t bunch up
Sgt Johnson barks orders
as his foot steps on an IED
A poem of love, forgiveness, friendship and peace,
where we fill our laughter, without cease.
From a heart of purest intention,
a forgiving heart, with arms extension.
With a peace, that’s fills the soul, you see,
what love, forgiveness, and peace, does for you and me.
Friendships, relationships, kinships, all the same,
when love, forgiveness and peace, leaves no one to blame.
The laughter, the joy, oh what peace of mind,
when in the right relationships we find.
We are not meant for everyone, you see,
but a true friend with love, forgiveness in peace we be.
Growing, thriving together, as in life we go,
three things that causes relations to grow.
Love, forgiveness, and peace, even if your the guest,
put our best foot forward, then to be our best.
One foot in front of the other
one deep breath,
a smile you don't feel,
then, before you realize it,
you feel better just because you
kept putting one foot forward
"Morning arrives when the brilliant sun first kisses the Atlantic Ocean." By Poet
Once again the brilliant sun arose with a smile,
peeking over pretty water of blue.
For now the waves remain so calm,
a very quite and peaceful beach.
Walking in sand leaving footprints,
as the cool water licks my feet.
Overnight the Atlantic Ocean brings a gift,
scatters the sand with pretty shells.
Colors like a rainbow yet from the sea,
so many sizes to choose from.
As I walk picking up pretty shells,
people are starting to arrive.
Peaceful day is now filling up,
filling up with laughs~crying kids
Summer months where you can get burned,
being filled with very hot days.
I love the many winter months,
with the perfect daily weather.
Cool nights with warm days to enjoy,
the perfect Atlantic Ocean and perfect beach
a foot hangs out of Dorothy’s eager mouth
she never drops it
because she needs it
if anyone can say the wrong thing, it is Dorothy
We recently suffered two deaths.
“Deaths come in threes,” she told me.
Someone else had a barking dog.
“You are a bad dog mama,” she said.
Is she insensitive or incredibly stupid?
Possibly a little of both.
It’s always a man like me
In the mind of donors
Because of my punctured tyre.
My name has become a title
To many charity works
And organisations.
My face is an old cloth
In the eyes of many doctors
And nurses.
I am ever tipsy on the road,
Always looking drunk
Without sipping.
This is why I can’t meet
My future dreams—
Because I am still chasing
My yesterday’s dream.
I can hear in my mind
The voice of a beautiful woman
Calling me for a dance.
The children too are begging me
To teach them soccer,
While my friends are waiting
At the foot of Mt. Rwenzori.
If morning sun comes
With God’s blessing,
Then I pray I receive mine
Before anyone could,
So that my punctured tyre
Can be glued and pumped
Back to its once-hidden path.
He was on the path, walking toward me at dusk
at first, I thought it was a man, but my senses began twitching
danger, danger, danger, danger, whispered my internal save machines
It was a sasquatch, and he smelled horrible.
I was too close to him to hide, so I slid off the path
Letting him have the whole path, expecting the worst.
He had not slowed down, his stride was amazingly long.
I watched him get closer and closer.
Would he eat me? Bite my arms? Wring my neck?
He grunted something and kept going.
It sounded a lot like good day.
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