Best Legs Poems
Meg has two old battered beer keg legs
that don't look to hold much more than dregs.
But when Greg comes along
she begs; "Please, please, belong
to me. I still gotta lotta eggs.”
*Written at Elizabeth Wesley's request.
Aunt Ruthie used to sing and dance
a jolly way to find romance
she said one thing that you should know
“The legs are last to go”
“The legs are last to go”
She’d sing her praises right out loud
and wear her stockings high and proud
she still had much that she could show
The legs are last to go
The years roll by and beauty fades
and yet her gams, she still parades
she’s 83 and don’t cha know
her legs were last to go
Her legs were last to go
When snakes had legs and love was free,
A man called Adam climbed a tree.
Although he knew the act was banned,
He plucked an apple with his hand.
In Eden you could always find,
Delicious fruits of every kind.
And everyone of them were free,
Except the apples on this tree.
A snake you see, the curse of man,
Had swayed the mind of his woman.
His partner Eve had tried it all,
Except this luscious juicy ball.
But God had made it very clear,
He was the one you had to fear.
There is one thing you should not do,
”This tree is mine, and not for you!”
When battle rages in man’s mind,
To do what’s right for all mankind.
A woman’s will, will then prevail,
No matter if it makes him fail.
So Adam plundered to his fate,
His woman said she could not wait.
He plucked the fruit to his demise,
No matter that it was unwise.
Now God’s authority was broke,
They’d disobeyed the words he spoke.
He told them both to go away,
And closed his garden from that day.
So Eve and Adam, duly clothed,
Now left that place they’d been betrothed.
And found a world so large and free,
Where they could climb just any tree.
The snake of course had lost it’s legs,
Because he put God’s power to test.
By tempting woman in this way,
He’d had an awful price to pay.
But God it was, who came off worse,
His power was gone, and even worse.
A ‘woman’ had defeated him,
By making man commit this sin.
So women now will rule the land,
Not God, or men you understand?
For women conquer all they see.
While God enjoys ‘snakes legs’ for tea!
You may not know
I have the worlds biggest toe
I also have a gigantic frown
The biggest frown ever seen around
I dropped a slimy creek stone and it went splat
And flattened my great toe quite painfully flat
You may ask what happened and how
Hurts so bad I can't tell you now
I was in the water searching for plump bullfrogs
Under boulders and behind the logs
On the swale in the sand
I got what I deserved you understand
The frogs are laughing and croaking taunts
All have escaped the seafood restaurant
I wave so-long to the creek today
Thinking of a career change as I limp away
Specificity in Poetry Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sheri Fresonke Harper
3/29/19
Tent pegs, burnt legs
Sun cream, ice cream
Swimming trunks, squashed lunch
Peeling tum, after sun.
Dusty feet, collapsing seat
Folding table, electric cable,
Sleeping pods, fishing rods
Guide ropes foreign notes.
Ground sheet, birds tweet.
Wind break, tent shake
Top box midnight fox
Sweeping floor, rubbish torn
Barbecue, dodgy loo,
Gritty toes, runny nose
Flip flops dirty tops
Backpack rucksack
Gas ring, bee sting
Bug spray, all day
Camping Gaz, not last
Airbed enough said
Glowstick picnic
Washing up, worst luck
Beard grown, photos shown
Journey home, money blown
Daddy comes everyday when the twilight
Bifurcates the light into shadows
Like a miscreant, grasshopper
Intrudes into the cracks of walls
Mom became a vociferous loudspeaker
Alcohol staggers inside his belly
Like the movement of snake..
He never came that day
Mamma's hand freezed with
Wheat flour and dough
My rapacious belly was ready to suffer
Starvation.. And I thought
Where did Those besotted legs and trampled
Shadows go?
It can't go to some other pastures
Some other homes,
It can't slap some other shoulders..
Myopic eyes often started to sew the dress
again enhancing the sartorial elegance..
I missed those shadows hued with that
Of pickles and spirit..
Still I proclaimed:
Shadows have gone..
Light is yet to come...
Life is yet to start
Things Grow Legs
Sometimes, I swear, things grow legs
Recipes, scissors, car keys in place
But when I look they move away
To floors, newspaper piles – hiding spaces.
We almost hear them laugh, or sneer,
“Catch me if you can – over here.”
Out of sight, out of mind playing hide and seek,
Warmer – warmer they move again - with a leer.
They love to play this mischief game,
When time is of the essence,
Deadlines loom, minutes race –
Panic in our brains - a presence.
Where do all the lost things go,
Those hiding places we forget,
Where even burglars would not look,
As we send out a wide dragnet.
Then suddenly to our surprise,
They reappear before our eyes,
Laughing at our confusion-delusion
So pleased they try to drive us crazy.
Copyright 8-28-19
If
By Byron Juno
If women MUST die
Then Atieno would die first
If children were to forage
Then Atieno's would forage forever
If women were to walk necked
Then Atieno's would walk throughout the year
If women were to trade their honeypot
Then Atieno's would donate hers
If women were after money not
Then Atieno would be not
If women were to sell their daughters
Then Atieno would sell to a merchant
The woman from the far away land
The woman with less embarrassments
The woman The woman The woman
Whose legs are loose for a walk
Whose waist never tire
Whose joints are ever green
Whose body children is yummy!
Whose body children say is tender
Whose body children say is fresh
Whose lips has tasted all drinks
Whose eyes have not only seen death
Whose back has sweated on all beds
Whose legs have wiped all door mats
Whose scent even cactus knows
Whose farms lie fallow
Atieno the generous woman
Generous woman who never says NO
Who will guide our young girls?
Who will show our girls the right way?
But she says;
Her husband is jobless
Her husband is ever seated
Her husband is ever sleeping
He wants first born treatments
Atieno! Will you not be buried
On the right side of your husband's house?
Will your husband not be the first
To throw black soil in your grave?
Will your husband not say
you were a good woman?
Will your husband not allow mourners
In his compound?
The Daddy Long Legs crawled into my tea.
Looked up and smiled, coyly at me.
Invited his wife and his offspring, all three.
They were having the best time, I truly could see.
So I decided to make them a big bowl of tea.
I put in sugar and lemons, I cut them delicately.
I had Daddy Long Legs invite relatives to this magnificent tea.
They swam and they floated, with their faces to me.
They turned this big bowl into a Long Leg’s Resort.
They named me the Queen, and we held Daddy Long Legs Court.
Pretty soon I had to move them to a big pool in my back yard.
Being the ruler of Long Leg’s is surprisingly hard!
Her legs, they’re long, they’re slim, they proudly stride,
Owning the dark of the street,
And they both have pure, lines of hot,
Exuding a sensual heat,
They’re my poison, my drug, my toxic desire,
That I think of every day,
Devouring every thought of reasonableness,
In a crazed little thoughtful ballet,
I love her legs, the soft and smooth,
I love the fall from her thigh to the ground,
I love every beautiful curve her legs have,
They’ve got me completely spell bound,
I love her legs, both beautiful legs,
They’ve switched a love switch in my head,
Her legs are all I can think of each day,
Till I’m in heaven, beside them, in bed.
At some point, my legs begin to converse
of time spent on the trail, rest now needed,
For like a horse's labors exceeded,
the strength mere food and water can't traverse
Beyond exhaustion, repose will reverse
Thus respite, backpack set down and relieved
of duties, containing my home achieved,
until such time as rested legs endorse
my return to trails, and onward I go;
Traveling far Appalachia’s way,
witness to wonders and all living things,
in far towns and altitude, well below,
where nature’s flora and colors bouquet;
To motivate legs that have become wings.
Written: April 25, 2014
for Craig Cornish's Miltonic Sonnet Contest
I wanna feel the passion between your legs
I wanna taste the beauty so deep in you
Like a sheet spread on a bed, spread over me
Tangle our bodies and lock'em with the key thrown away
Just you and me, not even Houdini could escape this.
I Love you so much I wanna take it out and hand it to you
Feel the weight, use two hands and understand
you created this like a baby in your womb
Feel this and know this is yours!
Wet and shiny coat,
Extremities shake and quake;
Newborn foal’s first stand.
Flamingos have extra long skinny legs
Why is that so, the natural question begs
Their bodies are large
To understand is hard
How they can support themselves on these skinny pegs
© Jack Ellison 2015
Some days were made for legs to rest and do nothing in particular.
Days when lumps of muscle and fat and skin, sway with leggy hair
and seeds and mites from crops walked through; some days were
made for legs.