Best Finger On It Poems
There is something missing
I could never put my finger on it
I write to get out affection
But all of it just bottles up
I don't know what to do
I want someone that I can talk to
About everything
And not just a friend
I want it to be a girl
A girl is what I write for
Someone I can adore
It doesn't even have to be serious
I just want someone that I can talk with
In a flirtatious way
Call babe and all those names
Compliment her every time I see her
But apparently I am not desperate enough
Because there are people who like me
But I do not like back
I am too picky in my life
But I have this right
Yet every night I plight
That I need some girl to bring light
To my day
Someone to which I can say
"I love you"
(On my myspace also)
Copyright 2009
All rights reserved
-Matthan C. Atherton
When you started rating my poems low
I couldn’t put my finger on it
But I knew something was happening to
Make them drop and weirdly enough only
When you started commenting and acting like
A best friend to me so I
Set a trap and now I know
When you started rating my poems low.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
10.20.2014
Rick Paris’s Contest:
8 Lines 7 Words Enjambment
From the first moment I saw you
Some way, somehow I knew
That you were the one for me
And I was the one for you.
I couldn't put my finger on it
I wasn't sure exactly what to feel.
Whatever it was, it felt damn good
That's when I knew it was real.
What was the connection?
Why was this vibe so strong?
Had this been the love
I've been waiting for so long?
Apparently so I thought
So I decided to take a chance.
When I kissed you I could tell
You were mine at first glance.
All the right feelings
In the wrong places
Trying ever so desperately
Not to leave any traces
Behind, lying around or otherwise
Only trying to bide my time
Until the one I was in love with
Would once and for all be mine.
So therefore we must
Be careful with each stance
Especially when you feel
The love at first glance.
As I watched you step off that bus
Standing so tall and true.
I wiped a tear from my eye
It didn't seem like you.
What happened to the little boy
I sent away that day?
The one so full of boyish charm
Always ready to play.
I took a minute, and looked real hard
I gazed into your eyes.
I couldn't put my finger on it
And then, to my surprise...
I realized the boy had gone
and a man had taken his place.
This man before my eyes
had seen another place.
A place not many understand
not sure he always had.
But still he went willingly
to protect against the bad.
Of things he's seen, of things he's done
I'm sure I'll never hear.
But the fact he stands before me
eases all my fears.
He took his hand, and wiped my face
then asked, "Hey what's wrong today?"
I placed his face between my hands
then whispered, "My baby went away."
He smiled, and kissed my cheek
then wiped another tear.
Then stood real tall, and squared away
and said "Mommy, I'm right here".
(This poem is dedicated to my son LCpl Richard Caseltine, USMC
~ The Tzaddik ~
A 'Tzaddik,' normally translated as a 'Righteous Man,'
is so much more than that. I think of a 'Tzaddik' as a
selfless holy man, who exists only for others. If you've
ever met one, you'll recognize him in the poem below...
You can’t put your finger on it
or think of its synonym
Yet the instant he spots you
there’s something special about him
It’s in his smile that greets you
his attentiveness when you speak
He exists only for you, for your deepest needs
though you may be unassertive and weak
He introduces others to you with a shine on his face
that he transfers to you with effortless grace
You will never forget him, nor he you
for you’ve just met a tzaddik, whose love has touched you
1971 (Hey Dude)
Hey dude, come in, come in.
Been a long time since we last smoked the peace pipe together.
Hey! I think it was during Hendrix’s set in Bethel, dude!
Here, let me move these Rolling Stones out of the way.
and the Taco Bell wrappers… There. Dude, let’s sit.
First, I need to change the record. Let me look here….hmm,
Iron Butterfly? Naw, too psychedelic. Blind Faith?
Naw, they’re too much like Cream. And I’m tired of them.
Hey, how ‘bout Led Zeppelin 3?... Naw, too new;
Ah! Let’s hear some very mellow Traffic music. This is cool dude!
It’s their second album…very trippy music...
Listening to this stuff makes me feel alright!...
Dude, Here you go. That hole there is like a carburetor;
Put your finger on it and draw in. Then, let go. Boom!
Dude! Welcome to the petrified forest, man!
Dude! I been kicking back here thinking about infinity, man.
My mind is constantly being blown thinking about how big the universe is.
Dude, we are so small, so infinitesimal, so minute,
in comparison to the absolute vastness of the universe.
Dude, here we are, riding on this huge ball of dirt,
turning through space at a thousand miles per hour,
and we aren’t even feeling it as we speed along,
like it’s not even happening, man!
You know, dude, we are so small, so very very small,
we’re all just a very small part of this vast solar system
with these humongous planets circling this huge ball of fire,
which are all just a very small part of this humongous Milky Way galaxy,
which is just one of billions and billions of galaxies in the universe…
Man, it makes my mind bend!...
Here, this purple haze from Michoacán will seal the deal, dude…
I also been thinking about God, dude!
We are all so small; we are all like spiders, just spinning our webs…
in this humongous garden called life!
So I must ask Dude:
What is God? Who is God?
I will tell you what God is! I now know! Dude!
Are you ready to hear what God is? …
Ice cream, dude! Ice cream!
Do you want some vanilla ice cream, dude?
I have a gallon in my freezer!
Think of the millions of people in the world right now,
the people of India, South America, Australia and even in Dinuba, California,
who at this very moment, this precise second in time and eternity,
are sitting there, eating vanilla ice cream.
Hey dude! Be right back!
A Soup poet wrote a love sonnet
She should have kept under her bonnet
Though deftly composed
Her love was exposed
And she can't put her finger on it
I don't know why I do the things I do,
constantly looking for all kinds of clues,
maybe it's all in my mind, I'm just trying to create it,
been cheated on so much, not wanting to make the same mistakes.
Hundreds of texts come to your phone,
but when I look only a few are left on,
Masses of letters and love poems,
you say chapters of your live not ready to be closed.
Going out and having fun,
that don't worry me cause your still young,
but coming home with your bra still undone?
I'm left wondering what the heck has gone on.
When you say you care, I look straight to your face,
Can't quite put my finger on it, but it ain't love that I see,
i'm suspecting I'm just a back up plan,
until you find another yourself another man.
Little emotions you rarely show,
constantly telling me not everything I need to know,
You've been here almost a year,
If you don't want a relationship why are you still here.
Just recently things have started to change,
I have a label now instead of my name,
but I just can't help thinking i'm being played,
because more and more clues are being displayed.
(Or do I just have a suspicious mind)
M.Mahauariki © 2012
she found the best pair of shoes,
she found the best pair of kicks,
she found a shirt that matched the both of
em’ &
she was just
ecstatic,
to say the least---
but somewhere along the way,
before she even wore the combo,
before she got to leave the house,
before she got to
live that new day
sparkling on the inside as the
madam of all
orgiastic
consumption,
the secret got out.
she couldn’t place her finger on it,
just what “friend” found out & then
spread the rumor,
but now every woman she knows,
has a sense of where she got her deals &
more importantly, if they chose to,
now every woman that she knows
can get clothing at those places & now,
this american consuming beauty
needs to go back to the drawing board,
armed with her plastic &
the anger welling up within
from having ever trusted
anyone.
They thought us kings, demi-gods
We were unique, wild and free
Daring to go where no others have
Reaching for the farthest stars, dreaming
Of life and its endless possibilities
Living for now, tomorrow is but a sweet dream.
It’s been too long since those days
The long cold nights, star-struck
When we were young and dumb
Now we are all grown up
Or are we less of who we wanted
And more like the world we live?
I can’t put a finger on it
Yet I can’t help but wonder
Did we give up the best of us?
For something that doesn’t satisfy
Still we yearn to be free and wild
For how long though?
Growing up and growing old
Are the two linked? Are they the same?
Can the child you were recognize the adult?
We have no fate but what we make
Look not back, for then you are lost
Life like time waits for no one
So too does the world
But it’s okay to be different
It’s the essence of humanity.
In a dream I slept.
And I had another dream.
In that dream I saw -
A madman looking at a wild orchid
Falling from a tree
Rooted firmly on a hill, brown and old.
The crazy man spoke to the flower -
Why do you fall so young?
You are yet to be pinned
On a maiden's hair.
I do not fall willingly,
But for the wind -
Replied the fallen bloom.
No! I didn't lay a finger on it.
I was gently breezing,
Whispering to the buds -
Wind defended itself.
A stag came along,
Looked at the bewildered lunatic,
Wisely shook its antlers and said -
It cannot wither on the bough.
It ought to remain graceful for the earth
With whom it will be wedded,
When the rains arrive.
Dry grass, twigs and thorns,
On which the golden floret lay defenselessly,
Revolted -
We don't want rain.
We don't welcome the black
clouds either.
We are celebrating festival of colors:
Red, purple and others, no greens please.
And I saw -
Men in orange hoods drumming, and
Women shrouded with white veils dancing,
In a temple of a blue god.
A woman in birth pangs was laboring on the floor,
Her cries lost
Amidst
Pounding pains,
Ambiguous hymns,
And ecstatic murmurings of blind disciples.
A yolk-less egg rolled out and
Broke between her legs.
A monstrous beast was born, and
It roared,
Like shots fired from a rifle.
I felt a razor's sharp edge sliding along my throat.
I then saw a barber barbarously smiling down at me.
He scrubbed my face with a wet salty stone,
And smiled again while dismissing me with eerie politeness.
I left hurriedly and walked out of a dark alley
Of my old town,
All the while my fingers rubbing
On my Adam's apple.
I couldn't find the river
Which used to flow in front of our home.
And I woke up homeless on a strange map.
Magical Perplexity
by M. Griswold
06192020
Your a magical mystery which draws me near.
Can't place my finger on it, yet it is perfectly clear.
That twinkling in your eye, the warmth of your smile.
The grace of your form with such a beautiful style.
An attractive force which I just can't resist.
I am helpless in heart as the currents persist.
Driving me endlessly like a moth to a flame.
Your spirit does entrance me, direct in it's aim.
Why so captive am I that I am a ponder to understand.
Never have I been under such a magical command.
Demanding my affections to which I voluntarily give.
For it seems now without you I surely wouldn't live.
Beautiful sorcery to which I haven't any self control.
Of primal surge passionate does it lustfully grow.
Your magical mystery of soulful, wrenching harmony.
Is wonderfully quizzical, mystical in it's perplexity.
Do you feel it too
You know, the graying of Halloween
For several decades it was all the rage
for Sonny-and-Cher-like adults, whatever their age
Red-light district numbers sold like hotcakes
along with ghoulish getups for opulent jakes
Something happened though, can't put my finger on it
maybe it started with Covid, like EVERYTHING else did
as the government reminds us...
Do you feel it too
Halloween's lost her old zipperoo
Maybe the air is out of the balloon
~ for a bit
Can't you see
It's her not me
I’m being framed
That girl was my friend
But now she’s HER friend
And I can't talk to them?
What the hell
Where is SHE getting these games?
Why am I the only one being told off
When she clearly is doing shady business
I got a 9/10 on my maths
I showed mom
SHE said that SHE got a 10/10 last year
I CAN EAT
Everything
ANYTHING
Mayo on a spoon?
I’m in 6th grade, and 65 lbs
Isn't that funny
They say I should eat
Therapy and drugs
Angry outburst
IT'S NOT MY FAULT
But I need to pretend I agree
I'm thinking that ADHD isn't all that is wrong
I can't put my finger on it
But explosive anger is unusual at my age
Clumpy hair
Tendrils of oil
We need to learn proper hygiene
Gym class
I am weaker than my peers
But I still try my best
I am always picked last
How come the deaf girl suddenly gets treated special
I have problems too
But nobody pretends to like me
Anti Bullying is just for show
I've never seen the girls act differently
Toward my hidden disability
Could it be my fault
People can't come near
When all I do is shout
And talk off their ear
I've decided. Age 13. Grade 8.
Next year will be different
I need to let go
I'll keep all my stories
But no more anger
No more pain
No more what if’s
Can someone out there tell me
Just what Christmas is
Is it gift exchanging
Or a silent, snowy kiss
Is Christmas only Jesus
Or is it something else indeed
Is it love for one another
Or love for retail greed
Is Christmas something solid
The sum is bigger than the parts
Is Christmas just a feeling
We keep tucked deep inside our hearts
Christmas is just what we make it
Be it good, or be it bad
It's a gathering of loved ones
Where one can still feel sad
You can't put your finger on it
But, in time I think you'll find
That Christmas is a feeling
In your heart that rules your mind
You can celebrate the season
With a group, or on your own
It's the actions toward others
It is LOVE, the great unknown
To everyone it's different
In the end, the day is his
Celebration of the savior
That's what Christmas is...