Kelly Deschler Poet Rhyme

Broken Nails

These broken nails
Not pretty to look at,
My triumphs, my fails
Mean more than that

Been scratching away
Digging for some end,
By night, by day …
‘Til they begin to bend

Once polished to a shine
… Is perfectly cracked,
With pulled hair of mine
And my nerves wracked

All glitter, all gold …
Neither one can stay,
But, broken nails, I'm told
Says something anyway.

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Marikate Kingston March 14, 2026 at 6:24 PM Ahh, the freedom to clean the kitchen without worrying about your nails. Mine are awful unless they are fake from the salon. Left on too long they do damage to your nails underneath. Oh the price, beauty for heartache we woman go through, if men only knew. For me ..beauty or pain, never one in the same. I feel your pain Kelly, it was so relatable and made me smile.

John Loving Iii November 1, 2025 at 4:08 PM I'm looking at broken nails. You must work on your job. I like the rhyming and the subject of an everyday matter. Making it into an issue to be discused in a salon conversation.

Gershon Wolf June 28, 2025 at 8:54 PM I find a profound message a way under the surface here, Kelly. Thank you for posting this... and, well, maybe there is such a thing as over-exertion...

John Loving Iii June 21, 2025 at 4:42 PM Men prefer it that way.

Hilda Greenhough June 20, 2025 at 3:05 PM I enjoyed your poem. It sounds like you garden without gloves. Broken need nails are the reason that I no longer garden. Best wishes. May you get some lovely blooms.