Best Kicking Poems
From a list made long ago
I’ve kicked my bucket many times
Yet, I’m still alive
Night’s impetuous canvas
Memories painted in broad strokes
Bold images color my dreams
First a brisk zip line
Snow flurries gathering on my nose
New Hampshire’s White Mountains
Majestic, tranquil setting
Gliding in a sail plane over Tallahassee
No engine; jolting air currents
Finding relief in a smooth landing
Indoor sky diving in New England
Exhilarating, feeling like a super hero
Smile never left my face
Parasailing over the Gulf of Mexico
Peering below to see sharks near bathers
Calling out to warn them
Catching a 50-pound Goliath Grouper
Endangered specie
Set free to live another day
Only one item left on my list
Traveling abroad
Seeing the castle that bears my name
Waiting for the pandemic to end
I tell my Maker
“I’m ready when You are”
Life feels nearly complete
What a joyful ride!
November 9, 2020
For Chantelle’s “What Have You Kicked Off Your Bucket List?” Contest
Categories:
kicking, adventure,
Form:
Free verse
blinkered by formal training
counting bright abacus beads of syllables
mindful not to step on cracks—
rhythm is everything
the audience c h e e r s !!!
the runner-up jeers—
maybe next time the nexus of …
the bows and brasses displayed
along with my bruises
an abacus of pearls
c.a.s.t
on
w a t e r
that drowns out the h-o-o-f-b-e-a-t-s of
a P O U N D I N G heart
a trace of desire
slated at the font
of knowledge
concurrent with my past
laurels
I bow to your discerning palate—
you clap for
REPETITION
repetition
r e p e t i t i o n
but I do not rest
unlike Keats
my NAME
is not
writ in
w a t e r …
Categories:
kicking, poetess,
Form:
Other
The walk down freshly gravel road
kicking up stones seeing how far they roll.
Note a huge ox cart pulling heavy load
of dried kindling and dark black coal.
The ox cart struggles over new laid stone
with its immensely oversized cart lade.
Oxen soon tire as they heave and moan
kicking up stones on the downgrade.
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Categories:
kicking, on writing and words
Form:
Quatrain
From where l live
I see a silly monster
Trying to tiptoe and dive
At you as if it`s a star
Quickly I move in and check
Then like a super hero
I aim and really kick
It into a screaming zero!
(N.B For Carol Eastman`s
Superhero contest)
Categories:
kicking, children, courage, hilarious,
Form:
Rhyme
By the time I was a score and four
I was retired from overseas duty.
Was husband to an American beauty.
Had smoked at least ten years or more.
I was hep...... Cool Hand Luke the fool.
John Wayne, all my idols puffed weed.
The movies, sports, all planted the seed.
Be a cat, a lover, all the things so cool.
Smoke, you fool, that’s the golden rule.
Oh, I quit a thousand times. Not really.
But it went from the sublime to silly.
What I needed was a quitting tool.
Nothing came out for years, but proof.
If you smoked you would die early.
It would put you in the grave girlie.
They convinced me it was no spoof.
Then about ‘80 came the gum to chew.
Nicotine substitute with a doctor’s care.
Even so, you had to first declare
Ernest intention, a desire to be through.
I bought mine in May of eighty four.
Made up my mind I would like to quit.
The first few days, I was a nervous twit.
I thought “Lord help me, Please, no more”
The secret for me, beyond the Nicorette,
beyond God’s help, and the family grim.
After thirty seconds the want was slim
and I had gotten by with no cigarette.
Enduring thirty seconds at each twinge,
minute by minute, day by day until
my body expunged, the habit was nil.
There was no need to think of a binge.
After a while there was no more want.
Time passed, now nearly thirty years.
My lungs are clean, eased are the fears
wife and children had, their faith I flaunt.
© Jul 14 2010 For Dane Ann’s “being trapped” contest
Categories:
kicking, healthday,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
You’ve been walking down that dusty road,
for what seems like a country mile
Kicking the can with nary a smile
Headed for the schoolhouse,
you and your companion
A bus rolls by ... there’s a lot of dark faces
peering out the window
You curse them all, as you throw a rock
that has them ducking
Your companion smiles at you,
and says that was a good thing to do
Hate is your best friend,
you love listening to her dark whisperings
As you keep walking, you keep kicking the can
Kicking that can on down the road
The cost of equality you refuse to pay,
is gonna fall to your children one day
But you don’t care about none of that,
you’re gonna keep walking down that same road
that your daddy and mama did
You believe fervently in the righteous Antebellum way,
that’s how you had been bootstrapped raised
With all your heart you believe in the Just Cause,
you’re the latest proud son of the Confederacy
As you keep walking with your hateful companion,
thinking about all the evil
the civil rights movement has done
It makes you so mad, as you keep kicking the can
Kicking that can on down the road
You purpose in your heart, that’ll be the day
you ever give up the Just Cause ... the honorable white way
You swear in your heart,
you gon teach your children to love the Confederate gray
And you just keep kicking that can
Kicking it further down the road
Listening always to what your closest friend hate say,
whispering seductively to you: Love the White and the Gray
The price of equality you ain’t never gon pay,
but the cost is surely gonna fall to your children one day
Categories:
kicking, hate, metaphor, symbolism, truth,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
checked death notices
could not find my name listed ~
seems im still alive
Written 30th May 2019.
Categories:
kicking, humor,
Form:
Senryu
A doer was seeking
a physical thing
in this age of carnality.
Truth falls on your
path when you become
an absentee.
Take a break from
the silent assaults. Do
not go for a dirty play.
I will not do any
commerce with the paid
style of the omnivores.
The soil does not need
any weapons. It was
always under your feet.
I will wait for a disaster
to happen.
Satish Verma
Categories:
kicking, art,
Form:
ABC
Kicking Some Mouse Butt
I can since when a rodent is there,
I bet he's dropping his disgusting feces everywhere,
This thing outsmarted every mousetrap I bought,
It ate the cheese right off the trap and didn't even get caught,
I saw the hungry little beast eating crumbs off the toaster,
So I decided to give it a piece of my mind,
But just as I was about to hit it with my hammer,
The sucker got away just in time,
One day while sitting in the living room,
Watching my favorite episode of family ties,
I found the filthy sucker sitting on top of my t.v set,
Laughing and looking at me with his dark beady eyes,
This mouse thinks he's clever,
But I'll tell you what,
When it comes to man vs mouse,
I'm kicking some mouse butt,
This is no longer a joke,
This is man vs beast,
Than when I'm done I'll give it to the cat,
So she can have one heck of a feast,
But before I do that I'll smack it around,
So he will warn his Stinky relatives about never coming around,
You can call me crazy funny but guess what,
I'm dead serious,
I'm kicking some mouse butt!
Categories:
kicking, funny,
Form:
Free verse
Something to talk about thinking about the box What is in it What is made of What is in between the corrugated hallways What is outside the box and how does it feel The many face of a box whether it has top or not Taking the concrete crate making it abstract but knowable Watching as words become the paint to color the box springs to make them leap from the page Grasping outward spiraling on end like a diamond depending on the shape of the box of course If the box is or is not stationary If it is an unfolded or folded box Does it beat within the chest Does it sing or have wings Inside is it warm or outside in a storm Is it rigid or a breath upon your neck Boxing is it a golden ring or storing things Is it lost crumpled in a bin Looking from outside the box maybe it never really was the problem but the portmanteau a creation to kick around
Categories:
kicking, allusion, creation, introspection, poems,
Form:
Free verse
The tale of the high kicking raspberries in two hundred lines of silt and steamed porridge oats.
Keynotes noted kissing keystones keep keystrokes kingly. But kingly is often not associated with kindness, kinship, or kept keepers keeping keys. It is the weeping of a solitary blade of grass that catches the attention of a wild anarchical lawnmower who's wild swooping on grass is a heavyweight chomp on many a bud spawned. One day as the blade grabbed a tissue carelessly discarded by a human hand it was considered to be a white flag. Waving. To say peace peace peace. To the bulldozers, mowers, and high stepping line dancing rakes. Pylons pulled piling pins profusely. How rather pious! And the building of a rat craft can really only be radically achieved under the main arch of a microspore whose antics with a slide causes great entertainment for microscopes who clap clap clap and roar approval in their bemused fashion. And so back to the upset blade of grass. It stood now shrouded by the tissue and frightened to leave the confines in case a heavy foot went by. Stomp. But no this was not the ending. Instead the beat of wings arrived with a squawk a Mohawk and a peck peck peck. Confused birdie thought he had found a piece of bread. Due to the tears the tissue had stuck to the blade of grass and so up it went with the border collie coloured birdie into the air and away. That was an ending found from under a stone. Perhaps a cone might signal the felling of the scraping scraps of sheet metal. Product placed peanuts. And the prowess of a Dutch infused marble cocktail is equivalent to a little vaporised milk carton. Moooooo then. A single scroll is a single scribe and a single scrolling scribe is setting sail on a magnificent lake with high towering mountainous vista scenes with ten scones. Z disambiguation. Z at three marshmallows singing to a tune of pan to twelve monkfish rotating in a septic water tank in a half pint cup. Quedos. *** z
Categories:
kicking, baby,
Form:
she shakes violently at night skates through universes of nightmares quaking inside at the moths trying to put out her light. kicking out at all who show up to hold her hand but she can kick and scream all she wants im not here to play nice with the shadows that box at the soul. Im here to show her a way past these snakes strangling her name. You dont have to hold my hand im guiding yours to a safety your afraid is not real or that it will never really come full circle for you. Whispering songs and sending wavelengths of mirrored light. Im inviting you into the showers of the kingdoms you hold bound up inside. Im mirroring back your light and come what may im holding on tight. We will sail past this we will get past this night. You do have someone who knows you deep down that is by your side. Not like the others but no knight in shining armor either. A ship with torn sails but going the right way to the right light is were you are. I know your terrified but your in the safety of care in my arms. In my gaze you see glimpses of a home thats hard to believe is true just hold on I can show you. The inner kingdoms I hold up we will fly to in this deep im flying faster now just have a little faith and hold onto my wings. Im not as frail as I seem here inside I can show you many things. Ive been here awhile waiting to help you sing. Your true words and songs will be found holding onto me.
Categories:
kicking, angel, anxiety, best friend,
Form:
Free verse
Play a little diddle
Fet me some
Play a little diddle
Fer me come on boy
Give me some of that ole raz a ma taz
Play me some beat give me jazz
Air check backbeat block chords Fusion Bridge
Get down with in
Play a little diddle
Fet me some
Play a little diddle
Fer me come on boy
Kicking the can to the curb
So upturn
Boy, I am focused
Got my open-toe shoes on
And one glitter glove
In step of rhythm I am
Kicking the can to the curb
10/8/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
Categories:
kicking, adventure, anxiety,
Form:
Lyric
A lunatic dance, frenzied feet
twisting everywhere, going nowhere,
kicking at the cool March air.
No meek manner, no sculpture's
mediocre smile, just a jumbled medley
of clenched teeth and an impassioned,
deer-eyed death stare.
All grace departed, exorcised
and damned with exaggerated
melodrama, from the electric flair
of the writhing madman.
Who can say why the melt down exploded
into comical vile gestures and
daggered words escaping his
unguarded mouth, flying away
like an angry, uncaged bird,
fluttering and sputtering-
spinning in the wind?
Possibly the tall, spiked-haired lady
casting thin blade shadows on the walk,
clicking away in high heels and scarlet
lips with third finger propped up
on her stone-jeweled hand.
She pauses to flick and kill her dropped
cigarette, then kick it to the curb...
along with the crazed madman.
Categories:
kicking, anger, betrayal, break up,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
over and over
why did you leave me?
over and over
over and over
over and over
why did you bang my head against the ground?
was it my head that you were banging
or was it the ghosts you were chasing
your neverending chase of ghosts keeps trying to coincide with my bipolar mind
but i wont let it
i can conquer this and try to restore
oneness and unity
because that's alot of what bipolar is....
its separation
chaos
disorder
don't get me wrong, mother and father
I love you
I understand you
you were simply reflecting the insanity of capitalism
that you tried so hard to fight
and the higher power, whatever you want to call it
love, mercy, justice, truth
the hope of all humanity
is helping me
forgive you and
kick that apple
so damn far from that tree.
Categories:
kicking, family, father,
Form:
Free verse