Best All Thumbs Poems
Hand in hand two sprites on a magic flight
with wings of crystal glass and fairy light
they flew, inside an abstract sky of white
wing to wing, one was nimble one was bright
Wearing taffet gowns of silky swishes
they were often flourishing their wishes
blessing all with benign hugs and squishes
tiny pixies, no bigger than mom's dishes
They were sent to baby rooms and wee ones
they shone like light from fifty golden suns
but every now and then they goofed all thumbs
and landed in a cabbage patch, oh crumbs !
they flew like Peter Pan and Tinker Bell
with magic wands to cast a spell, pell-mell
they scurried this way that and then oh well
they crazed it up and then they cast a spell.
Feb 26, 2023
Sponsor Eve Roper
Contest Name Nursery Rhyme
Between Velcro
And touch screen
We are losing touching
Feeling and doing
Thumbs made us
All thumbs we will be
***
Try try with all our might
This time may we get it right
Another day does come
Still we are all thumbs
Is getting this done right
Really going to be our blight
Another chance is all we ask
Leave other tries in the past
Stop wait are we going to fast
Another let down have we cast
Oh my what a beautiful sight
Finally we learn to fly a kite
Gwendolen Rix contest
Lets Go Fly A Kite
Poem was written: 09/08/2006
Mrs. Lightfoot had taught music at Talbot Elementary School for years.
A couple of her pupils excelled in music but most became engineers.
She sat at her desk to muse upon the past after another trying day,
Recalling events that had contributed to the 'dyeing' of her hair gray!
She remembered concerts when the cacophonous din made her wince,
And Mrs. Lightfoot approached such musicals with foreboding ever since.
But beaming parents saw their prodigies destined for musical acclaim.
(Only one she knew strummed a banjo at the VFW with a modicum of fame!)
Tubby Aruba wrestled with his tuba, ever out of step in the marching band.
Sissie Pyaner tried to emulate Liberace but she battered the concert grand.
For some reason one of the valves on Clyde Crumpet's trumpet always stuck,
And the trombone players could never harmonize - such was their bad luck!
Pat Claret could never adjust her clarinet reeds to eliminate the squeaks.
'Tyke' Biddle fiddled with the bull fiddle but never mastered its techniques.
Hubie Crums thought he was Gene Krupa and went crazy on the drums.
And when it came to playing the French horn, Sydney Corne was all thumbs!
Many times Mrs. Lightfoot thought she'd chosen the wrong speciality path,
And oft' wondered if she should have majored in history or maybe math.
In a couple of years she could lay down her baton one last time and retire,
To reminisce about fatal concerts, bleating horns and inharmonious choir!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Einstein Rolls the Dice
the paparazzi were all over Einstein
after he said make sure where the rope leads
before you kick over the chair
he wrote his own scripts now
Further Adventures in Archaeo-astronomy
tonight the constellation Vertigo
a place of no equilibrium
a hell of uterine contractions
even though his head was elfin
a little bone crushing ceremony
and you are out on bail
in an adorable subjective objective ruse
the beginning of a tale of envy and betrayal
you think science is pretty don't you
I didn't mean to hurt anyone went the 911 call
they finally brought him down with magnets
the meters were going purple
only minutes away from a fatal lap dance
that could blacken the portals of infinity
wizard artists awakened from a long sleep
out of the closet for the thousandth time
an army of derelict stockbrokers tried to stop them
but the obsidian blade plunged like a fang
and 73 virgin inflatable sex dolls
made obnoxious leaking air sounds
until all that was left was a talking skull
divulging sacrilege and anathema
flip the law of averages
and you are in the citadel
paradise being a system of payoffs
if existence has a face we're it
on the other side of the lens
the light is tricky in there
images fall feebly on the screen
but you can't have art without surprise
Al's life was now a gravitational anomaly
no plot no narrative no story
he was ready to sack a city
his Igor hissed let's asteroid the planet
but the mouse pad Ouija opened a channel
to the vortex of utter charm
and he stamped and splashed singing
through the sewers of humiliation
wearing his going to hell pants
with only a mother's love for protection
and thanks to the exponential growth rate
of his informative deformities
managed to lose all his pencils
somewhere between hand and ledger
unleashing pandemonium in all its ardor
being that his hands were missing fingers
most of them actually
lost in a departmental budget cut
left him all thumbs
it was a close shave but Earth was saved
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
Each day I spend a little time with my friend Sisyphus in the morning,
He tries his best to give me advice or at least to offer up a warning.
He can tell by the way I work that sometimes I spin my wheels,
Trying hard to get somewhere and he knows exactly how it feels.
The harder you push to get something done the bigger the task becomes,
Until it’s nearly impossible to get it right and you feel like you’re all thumbs.
He tells me just to do my best and to keep my nose pressed to the stone,
And try to remember that there’re others in the race and I am not alone.
Then he wishes me well and tells me he has an uphill battle to fight,
And as long as he isn’t flattened by the rock he thinks he’ll be alright.
Sometimes I listen to him and to the things that he has to say,
But other times I stop to think that there must be a better way.
Because if all there is to living is to go to work and each day grow a little older,
Then you’ve missed the point and you’ve already been flattened by the boulder.
So I look for things that bring me joy and add them to my day,
And eventually those little bits of color block out the shades of gray.
So effortlessly do musicians play
Concerts at night, rehearsals by day
Woodwinds, strings, brass or drums
Why, when I try, do I come up all thumbs
They're all here,
the last one arrived,
company's assembled;
sisters, sons, in-laws, grandmas.
Heartfelt hugs all around.
handshakes, back-slaps,
worn-out platitudes
exchanged.
I love the sound of it,
now that I'm standing
in Mother's shoes.
She's here, but at 88,
she's my guest now,
feted by three generations.
In the gathering room
they stood,
sniffing.
Impossible to move freely.
Last minute preparations bungled.
I'm all thumbs,
burning the yams,
spilling lemonade,
forgetting napkins.
I want to shout,
"Vamoose, get lost,
this is my kitchen."
How did she put up with us
All those years?
Tumbelina was all.in.
all thumbs
Trying to be friends
in a church of One
planted when barely
a young and tender seed
the switch made magic
so the Lady could conceive
”...lay this here…”
so the child can receive
”...and keep this clear…”
into make believe.
silent in the cradle
and peaceful in her sleep
the walnut rocks
to a timeless beat
then out of shadow
and into the mist
an old toad came
stealing Lady’s wish
the tiny maiden fair
was to Spoon, the Dish
but…
she was saved
by the butterfly
a slightly coy fish
she drifted on a lily
making new a wish
and then…
through a field of cush
the May bug flew
crying Tumble!
I’ve seen ya!
It’s true! It’s true!
”... it’s in her new name…”
but discard her he did
when his friends cried
“shame!”
she was desperate now
through Winter’s cold claim
taking shelter with Mice
no understanding her way
”...be kind to the neighbor
marry the Mole…” he’d say
repulsed at the thought
swallowing hard one day
she escaped the dark night
and ran herself aWay
”... I like your crazy pants…”
hidden in the roses
a fairy Prince enchants
”... you’re just my size…”
he said
and so began
their bit of romance.
He kissed her on the eyes
...Maia…
he whispered
it’s been a sureprize!
”... and all became fair
in their living true lives…”
I went up river in a canoe.
I had no paddles. I was all thumbs.
I scuttled her in the foothills;
the valley air chokes me.
I tried to drown but was too
resilient. I foraged for food.
I made water from jumble ice
in my seasoned stygian skillet.
I tried to sleep through it all
but became resistive to the valerian
root. I’m no Rip Van Winkle.
I’ve lived this way for 1,080 days. . .
I live this way still. . .
Porgie George, Little Jack Horner
Kissed a girl off in a corner
They were all thumbs and made her cry
Offed in prison, absent mourners.
Peter Piper, Peter Peter
Killed a girl and tried to eat her.
The cops dispatched each with a shell;
They help Charon, Limbo’s greeters.
A Voyage Where Adventure Must Invite:
Off Mega-Hurts (MHz) - - - - thru Giga-Bites (Gbyte)
And Reboots, Resets and Reduced – Sites
… into CyberSpace’s Secret – Flight…
An Inner Sanctum – Leaving from A Void
of Dreamless Drones or Disposable Droids
whose Mechanical Moves are quite Paranoid
Poised to Replace Super-Hero-Humanoids…
… and their CyberSpace Secrets…
of Convertible – Virtuals – Rushing like Jets
Suggestible – Intellectual – hasn’t Arched Yet
Yes, that’s Conjectural, even a Lamentable Retrospect
… so let’s… get into our CyberSpace’s Secrets-Chest
into Circuitry of Micro-Chips and The Matrix’s Breast
where Modem and Mainframe can Process Trip and Test
and View Monitored Progress and onward Press…
… The Auto Pilot… Tho’ We Should Not Forget
Manual Conversion, is better, when used to Connect
Real People, Who File-by with Knowledge and Respect
Programmed Codes of CyberSpace – Specs
… So May I Journey Into Your CyberSpace?
Let me Scan and Search Thru – Your Data Base
I want more than Information… I Want Interface!
And A Fusion of Feelings and Facts, Fast-Paced!
… Oh, The Complexity, The Intensity, Ingenuity and Affinity…
The Enormity of The Capacity for Sensitivity or Voracity
The Trajectory and Congruency, makes A Sweet CyberSpace Symmetry
Your Beauty and Ability, I must ask, “Boy, Who’s Your D-a-d-d-y!
See, I’m Dropping Crumbs; like Hansel and Gretel
See, I’m All Thumbs; at Gifs and Pixels, at This Level
Seems You’re Still Skipping On Blast-Off-Key (Launch) Pad Missiles
Too Far Away to Hear – My Wavelength, Wonder Whistles…
Come Back! Help me Lift this Artificial-Escape Lid!
Are You ‘Lost In Space’ – Gone Off The Grid?
The Heart of Dark-Matter – ‘Where Have You Hid…
…Your CyberSpace Secrets Amid?...
… What Vector, What Sector, What Intranet
What Satellite, What Planet, Which Parapet?
What Sequence, Star System, Radius, Apex…
Oh, Signal Me From Your CyberSpace Trek!
Some focus on hair, on legs, on muscles or on lips
on feet, on shoulders, on arms or on hips
Yet though you may think it a bit odd or dumb
my sole focus here will be on the thumb
Is the thumb worthy of a rigorous dissection like this?
I'll let you be the judge of that in the final analysis...
The thumb, of course, is what makes us primates
same as black and white stripes make men inmates
Speaking of distinction, the thumb's what babies suck
and just you try from a babe's mouth that thumb to pluck!
When gardening it sure pays to have a thumb that is green
while a handyman who's all thumbs is regularly demeaned
Then there are 'rules of thumb' based on real-life experience
casting out hypotheses, guesses, and other such interference
Remember 'Tom thumb,' the tiny man once swallowed by a cow?
King Arthur's favorite, he even tangled with giants - O, wow!
Such a graceful dancer was Hans Christian Anderson's 'Thumbelina'
He could just as well have made her into a prima ballerina
I mustn't leave out Little Jackie Horner who famously
stuck in his thumb and pulled out a plum!
And for those of you who like music some
Imagine a guitar strummed without a thumb
So, in closing, to conclude, to summarize, in summary, in sum
Just when was the last time your thumb went numb?!
It's a short fat sub that I'll grab to bite
Where the juice runs down my gums
As the flavour pools upon my tongue
and my grip becomes all thumbs
And I start to chew while breaking peppers
As the juice explodes and cools
While the taste seems strong and lasts forever
that my corner lips still drools
With a bun made warm to comfort me
Squeezed firmly in my gums
Then ripped and torn for pleasure
While the table fills with crumbs
There once was a sailor from Saskatoon
Who recklessly wielded his new harpoon
He impaled himself
Accusing an elf
Crew replaced him by a smarter baboon
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted on August 11, 2019 for contest A LIMERICK, OLD OR NEW: YOUR PERSONAL FAVORITE sponsored by ANDREA DIETRICH - RANKED 6TH
and July 21, 2019 for contest IMPALED sponsored by ANTHONY SLAUSIN