Best Bunion Poems
Reflection - The Fragrance of Grace
Mail order catalogs seem to have the ability to procreate in my mailbox. Just when I think I have rendered them infertile they give birth to multiple sets of quintuplets right under my nose as if by magic fertilization! And, of course, I have to examine these newborn opportunities to raid my bank account just to make sure I haven’t missed some article of clothing or thing I can’t possibly live without for the survival of sanity and my eternal happiness. They are like new spring leaves!
spring sprouts in new leaves
boughs sport jackets of light green ~
chartreuse convention
A new arrival from a New England country store pictured a garden of stately purple iris that immediately grabbed my hand and took me on a ride back into my grandmother’s iris garden with delicate, yet eloquent, perfume wafting from silky petaled garden royalty.
Each page was an adventurous journey through my childhood reminiscing about miracle wrinkle erasing creams, magic bunion healers and kitchen gadgets long declared useless by technology. But, one page made me stop, drop and drool - perfumes. No nascent scents but old friends looking at me from glossy pages bringing to mind the women who gave my life definition – the Royal Secret of my grandmother; Bellodgia and Gardenia of my favorite aunts; Tigress of my tigress mother and Blue Grass, a Kentucky meadow perfume of my teens.
These remarkable women straddled fleeing decades, crushing depressions, cataclysmic world wars often suffering the unthinkable loss of infants, children, husbands, siblings and miscarriages. Yet, through their signature scents, they taught me about thanksgiving in tragedy, faith in grieving and the irrepressible iron will to live in the fragrance of grace.
harlequin bouquets
fragrance of flower’s essence ~
sunlight washed gardens
4-21-21
Contest: Moments of Reflections
Sponsor: Malabika Ray Choudhury
Once in a blue moon, in the circuit of the cryptic sky appears the transcendental fusion,
when the acquiescence of the sky emerges to display two heavenly bodies most exotic phases of union.
On those, mesmerizing venerated nights, the new moon and the wolf moon in juxtaposition,
supercede the perceived notion of eclipses; when the earth's shadow devours the pearly moon, its unparalleled companion!
Contrary to the credence, they recline and mingle, into one in secret paranormal amalgamation!
At that spectacular moment, the blood of the luna oozes, turns scarlet,
and the venerated Full Moon turns into Blood Moon in unison:
when the earth's umbra covers the moon in its arms, passionately to hide pains of her bunion!
They have clandestine agreement, beyond the mortal comprehension to fathom their cabalistic union!
Although, once in a blue moon, even the cynical corporals,
turn fortunate to witness the epochal communion!
Deluded and hypnotised, they come out with their finite, shallow persuasions!
Even waning, the luna in all her immaculate purity, maneuvers the blue planet, her matchless companion
in various alluring phases, in exuberant magnificent manifestations!
Those rarest phases in rotation connotes their cryptic indulgences in culmination!
The momentum of the earth-moon collision forms curious rarefied condensation,
causes in its beloved's bosom, the tidal ridges, the ebb and flow, a unique phenomenon!
When the luna grows from New Moon to Waxing Crescent, whispering the earth to cast its beams for illumination
in diverse evolving phases from Crescent, First Quarter Waxing Gibbous, Full Moon, Waning Gibbous, Last Quarter, Waning Crescent to the New Moon,
both the celestial- bodies embrace each other
in variant robes of orientations!
Their hide and seek, merging enigma, provokes the lunatics for musing bardic explorations;
as once in a blue moon merges the peerless pens to extol,
the unfathomed metamorphosis of earth-luna's metaphysical communion!
All Rights Reserved © Silpika Kalita
Poison onion rings
Bunion on a sling
Rustic carriage bolts
Shoe string eating antelopes
Cankered bison crying wolf
While dancing under the heated son
No one comes this is the dawn
The field is full and the crowd is primed
Scream and cries rent the air electric
The mood is part sacrifice part slaughter
The smell of ritual repentance hangs heavy
Defeat floats around caressing the fringes
The bell clangs in preparatory adjudication
Sweet science of massacre in full flight
Adrenaline rivers rush and over flow
Bursting dams of timid cowardice
Fear grips tight in vicious vice
Blood tastes tease molars and pallets
Blood drops singe hearts like bullets
The countdown is on and Cain is raised
The frenzy is now full bedlam chaos
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!
Seconds to go round 1!
Second to go round 1!
Repeats like a terrible echo
Leaden legs attempt to loosen
Arm raised with sinewy determination
Sweat drips in torrid anticipation
Months of welcoming hills and hell
Welcoming torture and torment
Welcoming bruises and bunion
Lift ! Jab ! Weave ! Hurl !
Do not drop ! Do not drop !
Just come out swinging
With everything little thing you’ve got !
Got wrinkles on my hands
Been there then that
Got nowhere else to go
And nothing less to show
Got bunion on my feet
Been walking them there streets
Corns rubbing gainst my shoes
I've done paid my dues
Went from Selma to Washington
Mr. Man got me on the run
My soul cries out for freedom
Got old feet, crows feet
Got toe nails like a knife
Just short of being rip up and sliced
My socks are worn holey and torn
And nothing less to sow, been walkin fer miles
Done already raised my child
Is married and just me and my wife on the road
Walkin them there streets
Holes burning in my shoes
Got plenty to eat
Toe jam tween my toes
Nothing good as those
Gonna walk it off walk a mile
I've done paid my dues
Make 38 cents and hour cleaning Mr. Cheney's toilets
Been down so long been prayed up and on
I've don there paid my dues
Got nothing more to lose got old feet
Got old feet
07/06/15
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
from anthology 2015 UNO Poetry to Bridge Generations"
Jealously Bearded
The computers afforded to the elite and working forces are not the dells everyone
detests to use as free ones given in all the better libraries they are the IBMS. The
number on the backs of them are plated in real GOLD bunion old. The screens
are made of crystal glass and fashioned as a shiny mirror made to look like
windows hanging in midair. The mouse has three click buttons and seldom will
ever break from the misuse the student teachers make the housing is made with
titanium fair. The total concept is an old one the same old song and dance. The
man needs to eat or work or graduate if a lover or a student user. The trap is
baited with the silver and the gold instead of just plane cheese. The end result is
at least one million dollars worth of please. Jealous is a simple word for me.
the swashing
the evening we were declared
WORLD’S HOTTEST CAPITAL
sarah & i seek relief via a cool walk
between jetties — where an impromptu
marine superhighway has formed
— a never ending people procession
2 & 3 abreast wander the swashing —
magical median between sand & sea
— adults stroll — kids splash — dogs chase
the waves which suck our toes — pulling us
toenail by bunion — into pulsing blood
— heat particles extracted & dissolved
into shadow — salt replaced by crystals
of coolth — a strange osmosis — sighs
meanwhile a girl in white glides across
glass slowswift & graceful soon fading
in the gloaming as if she’s a ship
sails full of wind the rest of us
cannot catch
Faint bubbles of ache twinge amidst the froth
Steps cause trips to be carefully guided
But a bricked fall would waist the pain of pace
So weight continues to race pain faced shock
Grimaces speckle the shock one sided
And grace stops hiding from the hate of shape.
A mental case of cause and effect paused
Farce and neglect charged like loss of respect
Swinging at random gusts of wind, fate stands
A pierce that disenchants frozen thought thawed
A pulsating twinge gnawing at regret
Paused an effect and cause both speak demands.
Froth guides the shock of pace shaped one sided
Fate stands as loss of respect thaws regret
Demands then pause a pierce that swings in farce
Neglect effects grace and stops pain felt faint
A simple case of bubbles aches and stress
Yet through aches through stress bubbles always fart
A mental case of bunion and wretchedness...
I’m a bit of a mystery, a bit of a myth.
My answer to small talk is taking the fifth.
My loyal troops are always gathered ‘round.
It’s just Santa, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy,
And me.
I’m a bit of a fog, and a bit of a fraud.
I’ve smuggled illegal opinions abroad.
I hang with all the usual suspects.
It’s just Bigfoot, Yeti, Paul Bunion,
And me.
I’m a bit of a rumor, and a bit of a fact.
You can tell by the way my critics react.
But I’m never worried by all their drawn swords.
It’s just Athos, Porthos, Aramis,
And me.
AMERICA AND MY CHILDREN ARE DISPLACING ME---
must I die
said the elderly man
must I cry
says the elder woman
what wrongs have I done
to be treated as such
America treats me like an unwanted shoe
Like a bunion that needs to be cut off, shaved
Pluck me out of surroundings ship me off
No time for me because your job and your own children
mistreated
unappreciated
misguided
subsided
abused and recused
unaccepted neglected
make check myself
sell my home, my house
basically telling me to git lost
place me a nursing home
haaa!! been grown be 4 U was born
now your torn lock me up throw the key away
Come visit me every other holiday
Life savings, home car sold just enough money
To pay the nursing home bill for about 2 months and 3 years
Now falling down
Taking my car keys
Cloddish veins, headaches, hypertension, diabetes
Are not my greatest fears
My greatest fear is America and my Children have just locked me up
America you've thrown me away
Help me Lord
your servant Mr. and Mrs. Elderly
America treats me like an unwanted shoe
Like a bunion that needs to cut off, shave
Pluck me out of surroundings ship me off
No time for me because your job and your own children
Living NO dying in America
what wrongs have I done
to be treated as such
must I die
said the elderly man
must I cry
says the elder woman
Pluck me out of surroundings ship me off
No time for me because your job and your own children
mistreated
unappreciated
misguided
subsided
abused and rescued
unaccepted neglected
make check myself
sell my home, my house
basically telling me to git lost
America you've thrown me away
Help me Lord
your servant Mr. and Mrs. Elderly
America and my children placing me a nursing home
12/9/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2018
Of WHAT USE ARE FINGERS TO HANDS THAT ONLY UNDERSTAND MITTENS
I have a bunion and an ingrown toe nail;
I’m a blind man wearing glasses and I can’t find them;
My hair is so short that I am bald;
My spine so straight I am tall;
I have a four year old who keeps shaking his fist at his sister;
And it’s cold and snowing my question is;
Of what use are fingers to hands that only understand mittens;
And what’s the use in cooking dinner in the kitchen;
When we don’t know how to fry chicken livers;
12/17/22 2022©
For Of What Use Are Gloves to Fingers That Only Understand Mittens Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John lawless
B C 25 ooo FLATFOOT ROADSTER 700 Sold by Solid ROCK MOTORS
Took 77 years to get this technology;
A brillant automotive prodigy;
Floored imparted, technical passages;
Thrown in free extra peticures and foot massages;
Two foot-ten toed manned-powered...
Hard callis bunion brakes stops ya;
Hundered year waranty;
Across roads shoes not needed guarantee;
On the streets goes from “0” to “30”;
Don't look up, close your mouth, watch out for the birdies;
Easy on gas! Just flatulence if when coasting down hills gets dirty;
Priced just right! 4 holes in the floor;
Framed animal skins for doors;
To stop, N break putting on breaks place your feet so;
Drag you must;
Stop you shall, running in place have you'll go;
Racing, leaving others around you in dust;
1,000,000 BC Fred owned original still no rust;
The very first Fred Flintstone's auto a 25,ooo B C FLATFOOT ROADSTER 700
Sold by Solid ROCK MOTORS car runs like poetry in motion;
YABA DADBA DO!!!
FOR CONTEST: Poetry In Motion
SPONCERED BY:
3/1/18,
2018©
Going to her 40th high school reunion
Ann was nervous but thought it'd be fun
wearing her name tag and walking around
her bunion hurting but not making a sound,
Wondering whatever happened to her first
they bumped into each other because of their thirst
drinking punch and reminiscing about the time
they had split up as teens for no reason or rhyme,
Both divorced now with married kids of their own
they were heavier and not wanting to be alone
joining weight watchers together which was a treat
dating each other again which was bittersweet.
9-2-17
Poison onion rings;
Bunion on a sling;
Rustic carriage bolts;
Shoe string eating, antelopes;
what's the matter
what's the matter
whose ya mad at, son;
what's the matter;
what's the matter;
whose ya mad at, son;
when it all settles, when the feet hit the dust;(this ole earth)
and the horizon falls from the skies. . .
it's on, it's on it's all a matter of
it's all a matter of dawn;
the Matters of dawn
Cankered bison crying;
While dancing under the heated son;
My cousin from Missouri says he's only seen black squirrels in Nebraska;
No one comes this town in the dawn;
Catch phrase of the 1970's was, What's going on, going on;
and the horizon falls from the skies...
it's on, it's on it's all the matter of
it's on, it's on it's all a matter of
it's all the matter of dawn;
the Matters of dawn
what's the matter;
whose the matter;
what's the matter;
whose ya mad at son;
what's the matter;
don't be a hater;
lift up your arms, your hands, your head up to the skies;
rejoice in the creator, for He made ya;
and for this ya need to be grateful;'
it's all
yes! YA
it's all matters of the dawn
This is something that happened to me, I have no explanation, and I am not religious. But I just love what the universal energies/spirit throws at me.
SOMEONE STANDING BY ME
About ten years ago now, maybe more
I had a time when my foot was sore
A bunion had formed, and the whole felt beat
It was time, I went to someone, to help with my feet.
I went to get some reflexology one day
And on a massage bed I gladly lay
Whilst soft gentle music drifted by
She oiled my feet and I breathed a sigh.
After a while I felt the room change
The air became different, wavy and strange
And through my eyelids I could still see her,
But also, two feet, hung in the air.
And then on those feet, formed a hem of cloth
A hem of a garment, and the air became froth;
I stared for a while, then sleep took me away
Until she woke me and began to say,
“I had an odd feeling as I massaged your feet
Like someone was standing next to me, but not complete,
Because I could not see anyone, just got the feeling,
And I noticed that your eyes looked at the ceiling.”
I smiled and gave her my heartfelt thanks
For taking the angst from my weary shanks
And for giving me the experience of my life, whilst led on her sheet,
The day that I saw Jesus’ feet.