Anklet Poems | Examples

Josh Moore Montana

Cheap ale pools in a Styrofoam cup.
She’s barefoot in gravel,
anklet flashing beneath the floodlamps.

Pickup window ajar, radio blaring
“Friends in Low Places.”

Her jeans slung low,
hips marbled violet on the porch-swing,
ash winnowing across her thighs
from last night’s guttering fire.

I watch the buttes flatten at gloaming,
a silo blinking red—
a wound stitched into the earth.

She speaks of leaving at firstlight.
I say nothing,
fingers tracing the stubs of dead cigarettes
between her knuckles.

Coyotes keen beyond the barbed-wire.
The stars loom Pendulous
We do not lift our gaze.

Drawstring

Whom I have lose 

It's a demand of my life
When she was in Bank
I saw her hair band
She was an angel
I am a devil
Drum of drums into my heart
When I saw but she is an angel
I am a fool she is quite
Daily comes in My dreams
Now I am not a good person
She thinks so sad draw string of
My clothes always depends for her anklet of My lungi goes up and down in her is this My fault or
My lust she thinks God bless
Her I just want that My drawstring
Nerve ever open for her because she is a cheater of life.

With love all
Jagdish bajantri

Red Gems

Red Gems


A middle-aged man in an old wheelchair
moves slowly and with determination.

On a crowded street filled with happy tourists’ feet
his arms look as if
they’d finished an Olympic race.
Since he has no legs, he cradles his wares 
between lap and chest.

Today he sells tiny bracelets and anklets.

I pass him gingerly, bearing an awkward smile.
A half-block down, my conscience stops me.
I return to him
crouch down to meet him
pick out an anklet
hand him 40 pesos
his eyes glisten.

Why didn’t I ask his name?

Weeks later, this anklet still
adorns my smooth white skin.
I so love these plastic, shiny 
ruby-red gems
held together by tough black string.

Lost Love

By one step two steps
I walk thousands of miles 
Now on to another millennium 

Withered petals, fallen leaves
Washed away footprints and hand writings
Now on gathered in dusty envelop

Feathers of peacock, colorful bangles
Anklet ring and black orchid perfume
Now on stored in the tattered bag

Past has gone away far behind
Poetic presence is the beautiful companion
For the future don’t want lost the mirror

Lost love I won’t draw on the sky canvas
Lost love I won’t incarnate in the temple
Lost love won’t write in the poetic note 

Wound birth won’t find out the lost love
Wound birth won’t wait for the lost love
Wound birth won’t believe more …..


©Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
26/12/2022

From Indolence To Action

FROM  INDOLENCE  TO  ACTION

         Dear ! Me turning deaf dizzy.
        Drowning deep being drowsy.
        Do you address me crazy ?
        Please boost me to be busy.

                                  Dear ! Hold my crystal goblet
                                  showing your sparkling bracelet.
                                   Step tip toe tinkling anklet.
                                   I think that is my outlet.

                 Dense dormant desires of mine.
                  Poor Passion, tingling on wine.
                   Ardent ardour ! Pure, divine.      
                   Romantic aroma entwined .

                                     Neither fussy fanaticism
                                    Nor mystic mesmerism
                                    Need delighted dynamism.
                                    Vital action: Optimism.

        Wish to release indolence.
       No wobbling to break fake fence.
       To feel frolic, never tensed .
        We are lovers in true sense.

   11\11\22

    Just Before Release

Contest by Unseeking Seeker.

Not Hocus Pocus

Eerily eager evil enigma elevated eleven renaming egg land.

Meager minis liked their initial idea eggplant ready.

Beefily blatantly weird in a diddly extra wiggly way.

I was ready, reved, relieved and willing my elevated eight.

black anklet twelve will enter evil eggland

An Ode To You

When I close my weary eyes,
you come putting an anklet on legs
before me like the tune of cuckoo,
a strand of red roses tied to your lock
of hair behind swings around
as if the sailing clouds dancing
looking at me,
but when I keep my eyes open
you go beyond my vision,
Oh, I hardly can say whether it is a dream
that tempts me to dive into
unheard melodies or today is my
wedding day you are standing
before me,
If it is just a dream
I must refuse to face reality
but if I am dreaming
so why you come and go?

Legacy of Beauty

Moonbeam tree in full swing in spring;
Adds ambience a lot of zing;
Embellished with pinwheel flowers;
Tumbled down many in showers;

Dissipated its white blanket;
Around like a silver anklet.
Scented breezes spread all over;
Beauty can't be taken over.



A Brian Strand 4 to 14 line Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand 
Date: 08-08-2021.

Placed : 1st

Girls In the 4th Grade

Girls in the 4th Grade
David J Walker

I remember being 
Distracted in my 4th-grade class
By her perfectness 
But then, 
who really notices girls
In the 4th grade when 
we were
Choosing up sides for a Kickball game
During recess 
		But
She was wearing a robin egg blue dress
And an embroidered white blouse 
Anklet white socks turned down 
Around her black & white
Saddle shoes 
Her blonde hair was curled out 
On the ends like those ads for perfect
Hair in ladies magazines

		And
I wasn’t really showing off by kicking
The big red rubber ball all the way back
To the school wall at the end of the
Softball field
As I rounded the bases to home plate and
Too late looked up
		She had already gone in

		But then
Who really cares about Girls 
		In the 4th grade
Anyway

Strange Human Race

Strange, strange the character of the human race

We, the human race on the earth is very strange -

The precious jingling anklet we wear on our feet
Where the cheap fingertip we keep on the forehead;

We celebrate any birthday by putting out the candle
Where we putting on the candle to remind the dead soul;
Milkman comes to the door to sell milk which is useful for health
Where we go out to drink wine though it's harmful to health;

We become angry, if anyone calls us a child of beast
Where we feel heroic energy if anyone calls us a child of a tigress;

We respect the salaried soldier as our national hero
Where we demand the death penalty for the public killer (nonsalaried) ;

Chattogram © Mahtab Bangalee

Reflection of You

There were liberal field, golden paddy, mild touch of south breeze
And there were you, your beautiful smiles with opening mind

There were jackfruit, plum, mango, palm, and betel-nut trees on the bank of the pond.
And there were you, the sounds of anklet-rings, the scent of tuberose hair oil.

There were creeping plants of legume, balsam-apple, cucurbitaceous, snake gourd, and all these flowers on the home yard.
And there were you, daily watering on those plants, vegetable collecting basket.

There I was happy
when you walked on the field,
when you smiled under the trees,
when you watered on the creeping plants
And there I was fully quenched seeing you surreptitiously

My shyness farewelled you silently, wiping tears
Now, I am happy when I hear your life is joyful there
This heart is nothing
just a flowery bed of love,
just a heaven of love,
just the mighty throne of love

Now, to me, the field, trees, pond, yards, creeping plants are nothing
except for a pure reflection of you
all through these, my happiness comes and goes
peacefully
delightfully
amorouslyerotically



-07.12.2020 Chattogram

To Lord Subhashini

Enormously elegant damsel
In all fine arts does excel
A subject of many a marvel
Verses have ideas novel
Fond of devotional travel
Unique style does bedazzle
Adorned with natural jewel
Of twin eyes with sparkle
Classic looks with twin temple
Adoringly awesome dimple..!

Pure heart and radiant grace
Enamouring charm like Goddess
Full of enigmatic prowess
At times can be a tigress
Diva like quotient oozes
When stands amidst flora branches
Seems a noble alien from space
As all virtues are ace	
Many great acumens I assess
Soon bestow her super success..!!


Ever enchanting with her tone
Tinkling sound of anklet shone
In the group shines alone
Such is the superb phone
Adds charm the ice cream cone
As she perfectly poses in zone
A doyen auspiciousness prone 
Want to verse moving in drone
Capturing all her traits golden
Hats off to my Goddess Goshen..!!!

The Pirouette Begins

Dancer’s grace and wisdom
Tens of thousands of minutes of practice
        Mystical hush from the crowd
   Feeling her strength
            Crones in the audience
     None feel her pain.

	Prima donna, seasoned ballerina
Determined reverence, unparalleled loveliness 
        Mindful students, enjoying the craft
       Her disciplined strength
           Sinews poised and ready 
              Shackled, yet adorned and adored. 
               
	A gypsy’s blessing
   Ancestral anklet forged 
              In the cosmos
 Well-worn leather ballet slipper
    Nineteen sixties ballerina, still dancing. 			                         
                  The pirouette begins

Angered Man Silly Woman Henry Trying To Watch the Superbowl---

Angered Man  Silly Woman Henry Trying to Watch the Superbowl--

See the holding of the man,
I think he's angry at the other man.
He finds it hard to see the pencil,
Overshadowed by the silly hensel.

Who is that loving near the cube?
I think she'd like to eat the eustachian tube.
She is but a bouncy woman,
Admired as she sits upon a noble-shun.

Her glorious car is just a biscuit,
It needs no gas, it runs on brisket.
She's not alone she brings a chocolate,
a broken heart, and lots of anklet.

The man shudders at the popcorn joyful bowl
He want to leave but she wants the remote control.
He’s trying to watch the Super Bowl;
All she wants to do is argue Oh, so;

3/11/19
Written words & arranged music by James Edward Lee Sr 2019©

Sonnet 27 'I Have No More Time Left For Fleeing Sadness'

I have no more time left, for fleeing Sadness!
I have no time left for it, yet it comes…
‘Twas easy, once, to dive into war’s madness,
To hear brave pipes, and the beating of the drums…
I’ll not forget you this time, my Bright Darling!
We’ve loved a hundred times, now, and before,
A thousand times, seen the copper leaves go skirling,
And more times yet, opened and closed the door.
And now, I close the lid, and draw the blanket,
Consigning your sweet form to heavenly fires…
The door’s closed now, and fire is your anklet
For Heaven is not subject to our desires.
And so, my Love, although I go to war,
I’ll ne’er forget you, nor did I, before.

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