Best Kneecaps Poems
Breathe laden islands rise and fall
beneath the steam graced surface of clear water,
capped with rosettes, red-brown, silken, warm,
beaded with water running in rivers
down mountainsides of flesh, puddling,
in the darken depression of navel.
The water rises, about kneecaps
pristine and alabaster in hue.
Angular shoulders hug the far end of the tub.
A slender neck held aloft, crowned with auburn hair
and hazel eyes, changling orbs, of green and gold
an a oval face rivaling Modigliani’s Madonna.
A ruddy glow spreads across high cheekbones.
The rising water submerges all,
but porcelain neck and upturned face,
tendrils, tresses, coil, splay on still water.
Lids droop languidly, lips pout petulantly,
and still the water rises
buoying delicate arms, ending in fingers
...avidly playing.. upon
the pearl white key to desire.
Categories:
kneecaps, life, water, water,
Form:
Free verse
Daddy's specter plectrums mercilessly
Fraying my nerves raw
with oxidized guitar strings.
my thoughts relentlessly hemorrhage
onto clay vinyl grooves
s p i n n i n g
endless nights
of
suffocation.
a midnight jazz wail
lacerates
the void of your absence.
notes gnaw through bone marrow
ravenous maggots
in the corpse
of our love.
Chords violently crash
splintering my fractured vertebrae
a car wreck
in slow motion.
plucking
the frayed synapses
of my misfiring
modal limbic brain.
feel the searing electric distortion
static fuzz of madness
surge through
morrow's marrow
my moanin'
a primal scream
at the Eve of Destruction
trapped in a skipping groove
of creation
shattering guitars
and blasting kneecaps
in an empty cathedral
of resounding sound
Our touch
a violent crescendo
of needles and poisoned honey
pain swollen sweet
as a mother's milk
laced with a junkie's fix
on a stillborn birthday morn
each note
a razor-sharp reflection
etched in stretch-marked
scar tissue
of the agony that throbs
within this moog menagerie
of fractured femininity
set
Between the sets
of our shattered chords
a single note lingers- soft
almost tender-
like a child's last breath
before the
final
f i n a l e
Silence crawls
a venomous asp
a deafening absence
louder than stacked amps
of patriarchy
reverberating in the hollow spaces
between drumming heartbeats
where your persecuting promises
used to nest and breed
I am the discarded B-side
of the one-hit wonder
rising from dumpster-filled
lungs of domesticity
reborn
in the Electric Avenue
of my own making
singing
Billie's bruises
Muddy's floods and
Johnson's hellhounds
to the ghosts
of futures stillborn
in this Rhapsody
of beautiful
destruction
Moon-faced and sickle-smiled
I conduct this orchestrated
Savage band of ruin
my voiceless voice
a lightning rod
splitting the sky
of expectations
as I agonizingly birth myself anew
in the RCA Victor Rhapsody of Blue
of Beautiful
reconstruction
P e r h a p s…
a new refrain
Categories:
kneecaps, abuse, father son, mental
Form:
Free verse
She was not blessed with comely grace,
spurned and shunned by cupids arrows
because of her displeasing face
and breasts like kneecaps on a sparrow.
Her scrawny frame one could infer
if dressed in red and eyed sideways
she’d mimic a thermometer;
no outward grace to be displayed.
Her real beauty was deep inside
hidden behind two large, brown eyes
where a beautiful soul resides
eternally and undisguised.
Beauty is a skin-deep grace
it’s just a temporary thing:
a short-term asset on a face
that fades away like this years spring.
Categories:
kneecaps, life,
Form:
Verse
Sitting happy in my bathtub
Sailing my boat
Smoothly between and around my kneecaps
When she stepped in and capsized me
Categories:
kneecaps, boat, girl, journey, life,
Form:
Blank verse
They found her folded over her kneecaps
between the black mirror in the heart of his tires
and the grimy curb tugging shamelessly at her skirt,
her face to the sky and her eyes full of stars.
-It's not beautiful-
She said to no one in particular.
So they picked her up and brought her back inside.
She laughed while they washed the blood off her legs,
holding her arms out like the cross -
stainless steel under all her bones,
the rust from his nails
corroding her heartbeat.
Categories:
kneecaps, sad
Form:
Free verse
I'm placing strings in needles and creating new seams
Pricking fighting fingers for what this brings
Opening the lines of smiles with softer things
but you like to rip
like to tear bandages
with no interest in blood
just the sound of a breaking, the wince
The mystery of what's under the covers
calls you here
but you play hide and no speak with bloodletting
Planning puppet shows in your dwelling
There is no more time to look for needles and strings
Let's lay it here bare
See how the clot of your presence
causes more hemorrhage
Thinking nothing of tachycardic pitter pats
I just figured that
this is how it flows
and maybe the sadist will enjoy newly marred skin
Soft pink hues clashing with new fabric, this is more than a bruise
I dreamt of babies in past times
So maybe you'd bless me
bring new dressing for wounds too old to place but too deep to forget
and you did, long enough for the browning of raised skin
creating camouflage of a better understanding
but what does camouflage do?
Stepping out of coverings revealing the ravaging you
You are sharp edges hitting kneecaps
splinters in my feet
You are strange slithering things beckoning to eat
wrapping choking, heavy body around all things meek
You are the reason for silver linings
You create shadows for the bleak
Categories:
kneecaps, abuse, addiction, anger, betrayal,
Form:
Free verse
A group of youngsters
plays baseball in the sunny field,
while a lonely kid watches
the game and he would love to join them,
but he can't run: his feet are crippled
and screaming from the wheelchair,
he breaks the dinginess of the air;
he clamors for them and feels proud
of his buddies fighting for their team,
which won them many trophies!
Does God see his misery?
He surely does and looks after him
more than anyone who loves him;
Jack, would love to stand up and play!
Five years have been long to bear,
walking on crutches and being afraid
to fall; if he made a mishap,
he could easily break a hip!
Jack fell down the stairs and damaged his kneecaps,
he was lucky enough not to break his spine;
physically is handicapped, but mentally he's fine,
unfortunately, he's no way near a cure the doctor said
yesterday, " You must wear knee braces
and try not to trip on anything and fall, it'll make
your condition much worse; some boys
have never walked again. " Jack gives him a dubious look
and courageously says, " I must believe, I can walk again
and play baseball with my classmates and make them win!"
Categories:
kneecaps, anxiety, baseball, boy, childhood,
Form:
Narrative
Let’s go skiing ! Said my wife
It gives you such a thrill
So off we flew to Canada
To face the bitter chill
We took a bus from Calgary
To Banff’s National park
Found our hotel, went to bed
To get up with the lark
I brought a bright red jacket
My mate Stuart let me borrow
I thought at least I’ll look the part
When I hit the slopes tomorrow….
In the bright blue morning
I went to hire some skis
And boots that felt like concrete
I could hardly bend my knees
The minibus dropped us off
By a mud stained snowy drift
My wife said “ I’ll get the passes”
Just go meet me by the lift “
A group of red faced skiers
Were gathering in a throng
To sit on a revolving seat
That didn’t stop to let you on.
“I cannot get on that” I said
As I stared in disbelief
With slats of wood upon my feet
I knew I’d come to grief
“Come on Mike” my dear wife said,
You’ll be fine once you get on
So I stood as was directed
Then “whoosh” and I was gone
Hands gripped round the safety bar
As we rocked on metal ropes
Thinking “how will I get off this thing
When we reach the nursery slopes ? “
The chair in front began to slow
I heard their bar go “clunk”
They deftly skied away with ease
While I prepared to flunk
I ejected from my seat
To a ramp of icy snow
I soon was sliding on my back
With both legs akimbo.
Sailing down the green runs
My instructor in a strop
Kept telling me to slow down
But I didn’t know how to stop
I saw some awesome sights
I learnt the “pizza” wedge
I heard a muffled scream
When a friend slid of the edge
I lasted just three days
Till we skied toward lake Louise
I handed in my ski poles
When I couldn’t feel my knees
Time to sample “Apres Ski”
In my warm, hotel retreat
Dipping bread in fondue
Was much more up my street
While My wife “carved the powder”
Meandering with such skill,
I rubbed ointment on my kneecaps
And took a pain reducing pill.
I would not trade these memories
I will treasure them for life
I am not built to be a skier
But thank you my dear wife !
Categories:
kneecaps, adventure, fun, holiday, memory,
Form:
Rhyme
Cuz the goddamn T-shirt says so!
Well, the first time it was Billy,
ball busting Billy, who said
“go ahead, just do it”.
To this day I am not sure
what caused me to follow
this instruction. The end result,
I had red finger tips
for three weeks
and my finger prints
are still on file
in the park
on that bench.
The opportunities
to “just do it!” came
more frequently when
alcohol was flowing,
or there was a cute girl
to impress with my
stupidity and daring.
Scars, bruises(physical
and emotional), a U-tube
moment with the half life
of radium.
Marriage was like that,
I mean the proposal part.
That was the only time
I was the one to say
“Hey, let’s just do it!”
Age hasn’t cured this anomaly.
At 68 I looked at a kayak,
that voice whispered
“just do it” – I did.
My hips and shoulders ache,
my kneecaps are sunburnt
and I pray there is no-one
around with a camera as I
try to get my old ass out
of my new kayak.
Ball busting Billy started it
and the goddamn T-shirt
just keeps egging me on.
6/16/2016
submitted to – If it hurts so bad, why do we do it?
sponsor – Silent One
Categories:
kneecaps, humor, , cute,
Form:
Free verse
Breath laden islands rise and fall
beneath the steam-graced surface of clear water,
capped with rosettes, red-brown, silken, warm,
beaded with water running in rivulets
down hillsides of flesh, puddling,
in the dark oval navel of desire.
Water rises about kneecaps
pristine and alabaster in hue.
Angular shoulders hug the far end of the tub.
A slender neck is held aloft, crowned with auburn hair
and hazel eyes, changling orbs, of green and gold
in an oval face rivaling Modigliani’s Madonna.
A ruddy glow spreads across high cheekbones.
The rising water submerges all, but the mounds
and the porcelain neck with its upturned face, full,
full of moans as tendrils, curl and coil splay upon
the rocking water.
Lids droop languidly, lips pout petulantly,
as the water invades, buoying delicate arms,
lending slip to fingertips, fingerstips
...avidly playing.. upon
the pearl white key of desire.
Categories:
kneecaps, lovewater, water,
Form:
Free verse
Sitting happy in my bathtub
Sailing my boat
In still waters
between and around my kneecaps
When you stepped in
and capsized
me
Categories:
kneecaps, first love, funny, happiness,
Form:
Blank verse
VERTIGO
imbalance, dizzy
wobbling, swirling, unsettling
headache, ear bones, legs, kneecaps
balancing, steadying, walking
firmly, upright
STABILITY
Categories:
kneecaps, fun, word play,
Form:
Diamante
CARNIVAL MIDGETS
Short people?
I fear for my feet. . .
. . . Could bite ’em
. . . Or steal socks.
Such people should be compelled
To always use stilts !
Even then,
I cant stand their eyes -
Small, beady,
Insect-like -
Staring at me constantly,
Right in the kneecaps.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Written for by Sydney Peck for
Nette Onclaud’s Contest ~SHARE A SHADORMA~
Categories:
kneecaps, people,
Form:
Shadorma
I am fire and rhapsody in my private chambers.
Inside out, I am flourishing, animated, and measured.
My heart pumps owning the same conviction at age 15.
My hormonal sexual splendor surely must be the same
dense river I swam at 20.
In the mirror, I see only my ardor dancing,
my uncontainable flourish advancing.
As usual, I’m a firebird at the supermarket.
Trailblazing each aisle, I come to the dairy section.
The milk I buy is always on the lowest shelf of the frig.
Each gallon I inspect expired 3 days ago.
Swinging the frig door wide, I kneel before the milk.
I inspect gallons until I find one that hasn’t expired.
My rigid wooden kneecaps grind against the floor tile.
I extract the bottle, slowly rising to stand
and my glasses slide off.
I somehow snatch them before they fall on the floor.
I turn to place the bottle in my cart.
“Do you need help?”
She’s a face full of glowing concern.
That’s all I see.
“No, I think I’ve got it.
I’m always dropping my glasses.”
This archangel of milk bottles
vanishes.
My wings of fire are only cinders now.
The reason is plain to see.
From outside in, my expiration date has passed.
Categories:
kneecaps, age, angel, death, humor,
Form:
Prose Poetry
1
i know the world enough to where i can walk through forests &
dodge each blade of grass, defy the likes of definition & let my breath
just pass. magic is meaningless, tricks & illusions based upon the
trick of the eye, the human factor, the inevitable blink. magic transformed
upon awakening, realized itself contradictory & sulked back onto the
shelf. the need for entertainment has (at last) been relinquished. adults
have had their skulls picked apart by the young, each undesirable portion
tossed away. there goes [war&worry&work&waste] in the name of
simplicity, in the name of Taste.
2
it's humorous how you rely on the movement of picture frames from one
corner to the next, doing the same things, saying the same things,
never leaving anything to question. ignorance is bliss, little miss-
i took Their dirtynailed hand & let Them lead me, sure They'd know
where exactly it was i was supposed to go. despite growing weary
under the weight of hesitancy, still the hand pulled me on, dragged
my breaking body as it cracked with each step.
3
this is maturity, this is guidance, this is something i you we all go
through-- & if i don't? --then you'd be one lost lost little girl, wouldn't
you? i know my god never said that freedom is a sin, that choice is
wrong. his words are lyrics that formed the every alternative, yet you're
reflexive refusal is drowning out his song. no wonder the innocents
have ceased to dance, have remained seated in silent penance for a
deed they can't recall.
4
it was something offhand in the beginning, without logic, almost but
not quite insanity- this continuous idea/phrase/thought that was said
by accident. (do you remember how words really sound?) bombarded
by the repitition, hammer on the head, death without dead- (watch the
welt rise & turn red). i'll just say i understand, even though i don't.
5
elevate each bone in the skeleton until each one points up, focus
on the relinquishment of order as you spread your eyes wide open.
the lids roll down the kneecaps, & fall back to the dark side of the
skull, exposing the body in its most gruesome beauty. the pupils
fuse to one & dilate to envelop the heart. exercize the foreign
concept of patience & go through this pain to achieve this pleasure.
upon acceptance of self-noself, nirvana is grasped.
Categories:
kneecaps, allegory, angst, faith, life,
Form:
Free verse