Best Ingrown Poems
A battlefront benefactress,
She has her fortress, a fortified Princess, inside the dungeon of distress,
Tiled with the bone chips of ingratitude colored in pigments of black bright & rugid red,
An arrowhead chandelier illuminated by wicked tears, wet with woe,
Everybody saw her wedding dress, they all knew the warfield wardrobe,
But how many cared to touch her sorrow gown, how it hung on those exhausted shoulders,
The lilac one piece she wore for private pain,
Gain gauged by perseverence of self defense, vengence on Victory's tombstone,
How many visit that ceremony, where love is isolated amidst jealousy's cackle,
Do any of them frown with sympathy for the debt of her crown,
For every jewel in the tierra there exists a bruise upon her beautiful body,
An assault levied by the 'learned', the rape of a writer wrought by the wretchedly wanton,
Honors earned ransomed by pitiful rivalry, kindness taken in the grip of disingenuous delight,
Some say her very name is a curse, an anethema from some God foresaken moon,
Poet Destroyer, 'Too much nerve, too much passion' they exclaim,
Its only natural for her ingrown throne to be a thorn
In the fingertip of the editorial 'elite',
They know we will bleed for her grace like the children of wild sport,
The Poet Destroyer shall not hurt us as educators of deformity do,
She will not impose false limits on our brows,
She will not strike our eyes with rotten ink,
And look now you vultures of vice, we are Legion,
We are Brothers and Sisters of the Quill, raise your sight and behold our Worshipful Queen,
She rests not long in the sanctuary of her inner star, here we are,
Leading the war march towards you with captured & dried quills
Of imposter poets lashed to her sheild of cauterized parchment
Imprinted with the blessings of all literary Titans who have warred before,
We step forward While chanting in crazed concentration,
Oh woe to you,
Victors of vanity, victims of sanity!!!
This composition has been made in honor of the Poet Destroyer, aka. Linda,
A beautiful woman, a guiding Light, a warrior of liberated and Divine Art.
J.A.B.
She spoke to me
about the semantics of shame,
the seduction and flame,
the name of the pain,
lunatic loop of lost meaning,
complaining of symptoms remaining
robust and teething
weighing upon me
morning through evening
like a stoney smoke stifling,
misidentifying the madness
of this sadness as inherent illness
primordial and permanent,
the face of Her wisdom
a jewel of enlightenment,
a catharsis burning on the coals
of my ingrown crown,
Her voice vouches for my vim
as she says to me with a cerulean sympathy,
The Mind must make Itself
as a heart must learn to heat the soul,
emote to promote the promise of your pulse,
you are not a puzzle
you are a powerful purpose,
emotions are the lights of your eyes
the colors of your concepts,
the verve of your values,
find no shame from your sensitivity,
make love with your intensity...
J.A.B. 2023
A garden unattended
is a woman abandoned
Grass growing unruly
her hair untidy
Petals dried out
manicure urgently needed
Dry stems and twigs
chapped lips and dry skin
Weeds vined and entwined around trees
ingrown toenails and coarse heels on feet
Millions died, they are gone.
War took a lot of lives.
But our faith grew strong,
We are against of guns and knifes.
Millions died. For our souls,
For our happy being,
For realizing our goals,
To be able get new feelings.
Millions died who had no chance.
Every soldier left unknown -
Shame for us who had defense,
Who forget those dreams ingrown.
Millions died and no one cares
For what idea they are dead.
And nowadays just every dares
To ruin right and wrong to spread.
Millions died for smiling face,
For peace and beauty of the world.
From war life turned in simple race.
Ideals, manners now are sold.
Millions died for you and me.
Please, don't forget this feat.
And while deciding whom to be,
Remember what this Millions did!
A treatise on regenerating life
Old Man Winter's residual cultivated by Spring's mid-wife
Into fertile cavity seed with precision did knife
In earth's dark bosom; cauldron of strife
With jolting, painful movements rife
Helios incubated the embryonic pod
Unction sparked from Zeus's rod
Jupiter's vital streams embalmed ingrown clod
With growing pressure swelling kernel did prod
Fledgling shoots pushed through birth canal onto sod
*** (beyond)
Sundays
in rains
forgotten odor
and those ingrown dreams
about
her arm
Sundays in rains
like a farewell
beyond
Ladies upon a stage which are dressed in feminine style
Gracefully in a row, they flow as a troupe dancing the ballet
I am sure those ladies had many ingrown toenails and cramps.
Keola-Sonnet-Martin Luther King, Jr.
Imagine perched above, you ride THE lofty throne
Peering through pellucid skies to seek our MORAL truth
You yearn to spread what people need; empathy ingrown
To stare into transmutative hearts, from elderly to youth…
Suddenly, your throne volplanes into a graceful ARC
Your view, now curved, a myriad OF sights
THE UNIVERSE so grand, folks pale to smooth and dark
You cry as crisis BENDS what’s good, tears AT every right…
THE journey must proceed; though lachrymose you feel
Another ELBOW OF your trek; celebrate below
For this great place watched JUSTICE rightfully appeal
A moral victory, a beginning, where together, folks will grow…
Written and submitted on February 1, 2022
Submitting for Keola Secret KA-CHING-cash cash cash Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
The Agony of de feet
When I am afoot I fear for the fact
That my didgets will fidget
And I must react
My corns are like thorns
When the pressure is great
The bunion’s no funion
My toenails ingrown
With all this pain I can loudlly state
I must buy large shoes
To give me some space
to rid me of this winged tip fate
Ralph SergI ©
October 23, 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
Seems like cozy words won't make a fire when it's winter
Neither will my hopes and dreams, though people say I'm a winner
The only one who stood by me has dragged me down again
I'm lying naked on the bed with a parallel universe in my brain
I adore myself, but I couldn't have my ingrown nail fixed before it bled
I used to be so used to feeling pain
Now I understand life's still ahead
(Think about it)
There are butterfly stickers
On the shower stall
They won't fly, they won't move
But they're super special
Anxiety sucks, so does my self-esteem
I'm avoiding the mirror
Can't believe I look so good when I'm not aware of it
But all of a sudden I come across a Greek God on Twitter
Wait, wait, he's Brazilian
My tears have kissed a thousand pictures
I'm emotional, that is, I'm dumb
I'd go around craving for stickers
Now I am here gracefully alone
And I'm a shy boy, I miss important events
Can't even verbalize my sentiments
So I resort to bothering my friends
(My friends)
Folks may wanna send me to the gym
Love it as much as sparkling water
(I hate it)
I pretend I'm on to things
But I would lock me in a drawer
I'm about to explode
If I go missing, will I turn gold?
And I'd rather be lost in youthful words
For I love my way of getting old
Maybe I'm my own remedy
I'm the lover I'm looking for
Won't let the chaos sink in
Won't hide my heart in the dark
There are butterfly stickers
On the shower stall
They won't fly, they won't move
But they're super special
Sometimes they fall
But then we stick 'em again
like pulling teeth
i can't wait to get this thing removed
thought it was an ingrown hair
but apparently the pain shows me where it really hurts
state of shock
phone too expensive
undeliverable mail
line of communication down
beware the water
side effects may include
swelling and shrinkage
waking up more dead everyday
voiceless expressions
no time to mourn the lost
survivalism and denial
remember me not forgotten
how is life worth all this pain
what did i enevitably learn in this experience
surrendering to societies malfunctions
I don't believe in
Beware the water
I put up the barriers and molded the Great White Stone.
I searched all written doctrines that embodied my light.
It was a remarkable journey let me tell you of my flight.
I even went through DNA of every strand of every bone.
I matched all the genetic linage to kind energies ingrown.
It was like an open door after door where all turns bright.
The misplacement that followed is truly way out of sight.
Seeing it all made me search my truth and I wasn’t alone.
I felt like I am the only one.
There was just me to believe.
There was too much undone.
More than humans conceive.
This was an origin unknown and not of this world.
This is timeless intelligence appropriately swirled.
Tree to tree, the woods tries to hide him.
His growl and fur coat - neither slim.
His beacon ears hear all the gossip.
Before bares teeth, kindles kinship.
Apples, precious and spoiled, with hood.
She wants Gamma well, longs for baked food.
Eyes behind pines concoct a plan.
A two for one price for madman.
Stays a safe distance, reveals himself.
“I know you’ve seen me around, elf.”
“It’s lonely all alone in the woods.
Nice to chat, with someone in ‘hood”
“I mean you know harm, little girl,
I may be a beast but I’m no churl.”
Too comfortable and curious ~
this stranger’s nature, spurious.
She’ll recall those terrible teeth
as the wolf bares them out of his sheath.
She’d never love her Gamma less
with ingrown fur and her carelessness.
Someone else was watchful that day.
For he’d rear up, make some beastie pay.
Chased down the weary wolf, dressed in red.
The chastise of axeman splits bed.
The impossible happens with split.
Gamma and girl comes out of it.
How they managed to avoid wolf’s sword -
Be gulped instead, as belly roared!
Red’s grown now, has a bigger hood,
She has no stomach for beastie food.
Hides weapons in stockings. No fool
will chow down on her progeny pool.
12/30/2010
“Joy”
Your joy should be my joy,
Without question,
Without reservation,
Without pause.
If it gladdens your heart,
It shall gladden mine.
If it fails,
I cannot profess to love you.
For Love, ” ingrown” love,
Selfless love, is born from within.
It is not celebrated in this life alone.
It circulates through our souls
From one generation to the next.
It is what creates us,
Gives meaning to our lives,
Teaches us the glory of
Being a Giver, rather than a Taker.
It is Life’s own reward,
Here on earth,
On the Battleground of Life.