Best Limped Poems
Last night I wandered past your total disregard
And walked forlorn
Stark insecurity amplified
Still I walked , my usual forebearance uncomplied
Upon furthermost the distance between us elongated
The sustenance of forgotten stores inside me generated
I was venerated - nay subjugated
Of these morsels congregated
And fed me through those inkblack nights
In dewfall of the quiet
Inside unheard the rebel riots
As my breath became a billion
As my fears that I embraced
Loosed themselves and fearing fled
Melting in the murky bellows
Did I find my standing there...
Naked but for meekness laced
Forgotten was my fear
I needs you dId not anymore
Nor your disregard this doggone day
Not dejected as before
Only sin has me surrounded
And soon encircled dissappears,decays
Unclothed in limped insignificance
Nothing said ...
So still your body lies
Too long I limped along a lonely road, born into this Sahara desert of a life,
parched and hungry, face weathered and gaunt.
A deaf, dumb, and blind man, drawn and quartered by her knife,
back tarred and feathered by a vulture's taunt.
I searched the wide world for your wonderful smile,
tired soul devoid of that whole, found wanting of the other half.
Try to find the right words, after each lost and lonely mile,
my sorrows washed away by that sweet, infectious laugh.
Like hopeless romantic's lot, who climbed out of a dark place,
beyond my wildest dreams, I finally found you.
Yet daft was I to hear not., your prayer for love's embrace..
as two hearts lifted in love were bound to.
When last moon fades, no more hopeless romantics left,
and strings of sanguine hearts untwine.
I will hold on to memory's tender touch yet,
and all the warm days when you were mine.
Alan Allston ate an addictive piece of cake.
Bertie bounced his bouncy ball by the bus stop but his brother caught the bouncy ball before the bus came.
Claire, Clara, Chloe and co built a sculpture of Charlie out of snow.
David danced with Dani in a dance club in Derby.
Eliza's enormous elephant squirted water at an eagle.
Frances frantically searched, quite flushed, for Freddie's friendly frog.
General enquiries? Go Google it!
Henry hated hula hoops and Hungry Hippos.
Ingenious Ignatius invented an intelligence of sorts.
Jackie's Jaguar Jasper liked jumping giant fences.
Kind King Knowles knows what's best for his kingdom.
Larry limped lightly after he had a nasty fall.
Mary played Moana in a school production.
Nobody notices November's rain, not since winter has arrived again.
Oops! Oh no! It's happened all over again!
Pedro, Perdy and Poots played bagpipes in the middle of Boots!
Quality Street for quiet times.
Rita raised an eyebrow when she got the rhyme wrong!
Some slimy slugs saw Sid Sidewinder slithering slowly singing silly songs.
To tell you the truth, Tea's just right for me.
The unhappy unicorn kept dry under her umbrella.
Vera the violet vulture was very hungry.
The winds were whistling a wintry tune.
Xena played her xylophone while Xander was having his x-ray.
Yesterday's Yellow is today's Gold.
Zoe's zebra stared at her as she zealously expressed her views on Zoom.
There once was a cat who hadn't much sense.
He liked to sit, every night, on a neighborhood fence
And sing, at the top of his not so sweet voice,
A medley of cat songs of his personal choice.
He'd been told many times, in no uncertain way,
That he'd be wise to sleep nights, and prowl in the day.
Because near the fence that he seemed to like best,
Lived a hard-working man who needed his rest.
So, late one night, in the light of the moon,
He climbed onto the fence and started to croon.
The sudden appearance of that unearthly sound
Aroused, from its sleep, the neighborhood hound.
With the yowl of the cat, and the yap of the hound,
The midnight was filled with the maddening sound.
From the house near the fence, you might understand,
Came a groan from the neighborhood hard-working man.
The poor, distraught man jumped out of his bed!
He ran to the window and stuck out his head.
He fumbled with this, and grappled with that,
Just anything handy to throw at the cat.
He threw both of his shoes, some books and a broom,
And everything else he could find in the room.
The symphony ended abruptly that night
And suddenly all was peaceful and quiet.
Next morning the cat limped home to his place,
And, believe it or not, he had a frown on his face.
Now, this might sound funny, but I assure you it's true,
Where everyone knows one should wear a hat--
--the cat was wearing a shoe.
Across the rink that winter evening stood,
against a wall, a rose, in freezing cold.
So striking in her pose, beneath her hood
two cheeks had stolen glow from sunshine’s gold.
Upon this diamond bloom he cast his eyes;
released his hockey stick and ran to greet
his shining rose, by far his sweetest prize
and comfort in the times of his defeat.
And as he came to her, she did not stir
until the crunch of feet on snow she heard.
She limped on damaged legs toward him, a blur
she viewed through lenses thick. . . “Hello,” she slurred.
No limits hold true love. He took his gem,
and held in warm embrace that flower’s stem.
For PD's "A True Love Poem" Poetry contest
Well, I jumped across the earth to the other side
and found myself in a place called Mexico
I wanted to home so I told them lies
about what I thought how much I hated it here
I left my green card in my passport
and I left my passport alone at home
So I walked to a bar in a place called Mort
and I had whatever they gave to me
I woke up later with some energy
So I walked down to the beach to swim it off
it was getting dark and I lost all since of me
at last request I stayed the night with ?Maria?
I spent day two ATVing down the drive
and spent my money on a donkey
I got bit by a rattlesnake on the ride
no one helped me but I stayed alive
I limped to the nearest shelter
and I drank some more anyway
until someone screamed to go help her
as I turned around to see a dying girl
I gave her a hand and we fell in love
I still can't explain how it pulled it off
or what she was dying from- some-thing?
we slept on the couch of the bartenders club
In the morning we ran away
to find another job to pay
for my trip home in May
and all my boss had to say... was:
How was your stay in Mexico?
and I spoke very softly
in spanish I never knew
"Nunca encontré un Taco Bell"
And that's the story of what I went through
My poetry looks like a heavensickness.
The paradise from which I was exiled
is locked up tight. Nor luck, nor mental quickness,
nor tractable iambuses, nor wild,
limped on their right leg trochees, nor bad English
(oh, those “which” and “that” I can’t distinguish,
or, say, the tenses. What a hellish tongue!
Sometimes I wish I died when I was young),
nor Russian, my insane experimenter
and faithful servant (though, some dura'ki*
find it's not true) – that’s not enough to enter,
and all I really need is just a key.
Alas, I haven’t. But through the keyhole
I see footprints of angels on my soul.
* (rus.) fools
Bumped into a friend
just yesterday
I was driving my car
and she got in the way
She said nothing was broken
the impact was minor
Mostly bruises and cuts
and a pretty good shiner
I took her to breakfast
and told her a joke
She was laughing so hard
she started to choke
I gave her the Heimlich
and then she was fine
While everyone cheered
we continued to dine
I finished my eggs
plus her corned beef hash
She picked up the check
since I don't carry cash
Then we took a ride
when I got a flat
She changed the tire
while watching, I sat
We went to the park
to her favorite thing
where she asked me to push
while she rode on the swing
But careless was she
as she went too high
and flew off the seat
up into the sky
And then she came down
right onto a bush
full of prickly thorns
straight into her tush
To the hospital entrance
I gave her a lift
and away from my car
she limped fairly swift
But before that she said
(if you'll pardon these rhymes)
"Whenever we meet
it's just like old times"
Mike Wise
10-21-19
Heaviness painfully throbbed your beating heart,
as the world could not understand it
and could never see it.
With your slurred words
and tired, dilated eyes,
I smiled, knowing you were not from here,
watching you drenched in sweat,
dripping down from your neck
in the midst of this muggy
unforsaken place.
And as the last song of thunderous sounds from trumpets played
while golden horns slowly waved in and out of the dark,
screaming to a high climax then falling low
and lower as if it was a rhythm of a train in the rain,
slowing making its stop,
many along the walls stood whispering to others
while gazing back and forth in your direction
as those at their tables whispered amongst cigarette smoke,
using their empty glasses as ashtrays.
And miserably, you walked towards me across the room with courage, and I already knew, just like the others, life had already broken you.
And I waited on the other side with a smile until you arrived,
as you stumbled, drunkenly aroused— into my web.
Then your eyes followed my hips outside the front door.
We walked further away from the departing crowd.
And further away.
Then further away
into darkness,
then
you heard the sound of car doors mysteriously opening.
Footsteps crept closer, and you searched and strained your eyes to see what was waiting.
And when you saw them, you were suddenly
transfixed
You cautiously called my name to get an understanding.
And there was a sound of a closing door,
and I had vanished away.
Desperate scrambling sparked, with a quick touch of a blade to your neck.
Movements pushed and pulled against each other.
And a sound of fumbling,
finally ending with a loud screech—
silence.
Heavy footsteps quickly ran away, and time had stood still.
Then you limped back to your car with an empty wallet
and a frown of dried tears—
A fake phone number folded in your pocket.
You were drenched in the darkest of dark,
and I was in my element,
watching and waiting in my car for my share
of the money we earned.
JG Finch
I have told this story, a long time ago in a different way.
Because its true I would like to tell it again today.
It’s a new poem, the story is old, so tell me what you think.
This time I relate it for a contest by Empress Ink.
It was Summer holidays. Six weeks time off from school,
Nothing much to do. Maybe beach or swim at home in the pool.
I applied for a job, packing Frisbees in a sheltered workshop.
The heat machine was too dangerous, and work had to stop.
The hot wire to cut the shrink-wrap might burn the disabled.
Four of us were hired for 6 weeks to use it, as “fit” we were labelled.
The regular workers considered us a novelty working there,
Some people as they passed, us would just stop and stare.
So many wonderful people all with disabilities they had,
There was a cheery atmosphere, and it didn’t make us feel sad.
The workers seemed to help each other and were kind and giving,
All doing a great job working in spite of difficulties, earning a living.
A young guy managed to ask me if I would sit with him for lunch.
I sat next to him at a big table with all the rest of the bunch,
Such sweet folk, all happy and bright,
Not one of them dwelling on their challenged plight.
He invited me but struggled with words, very hard to know what he said.
He had a very bad limp, and he continually nodded his head.
After that day he beckoned me to lunch with him every chance.
The boss said, “don’t worry He’s simple, his name is Lance,“
We all laughed and had fun those days when lunchtime would start.
Each one of their personalities went straight to my heart
On the last day, when we had finally wrapped the last frisbee,
We were saying goodbye, Lance limped up and gave a card to me.
It read, My sister wrote this for me. I wish you knew what I was like,
Because I wasn’t simple before that accident on my motorbike.
My eyes filled with tears, as I hugged him and simply walked away.
I still think of him, and all the rest of those featherless angels to this day.
Non Fiction.
I walk in a busy street, happy faces everywhere
Coats buttoned tight against the cold,
Stomachs full, warm shoes on their feet.
They don't know.
My grandparents limped through the streets
Cold, starving, wearing tattered coats.
Barefoot in Germany in winter, for a crime of birth
Convicted by fear, jealousy and hate.
It is autumn, and all around me the colors explode
As if a giant splattered paint from his brush
On the landscape, his canvass, until sated.
He didn't know.
My family endured colorless years
The only hue the yellow stars they were forced to wear
To mark each as something less than a person,
Exempt from even the most basic human rights.
There's a chill in the air this time of year
Smoke billows from the chimneys of dozens of homes
And bonfires litter the neighborhood like cinders
They don't know
My mother can't see a chimney without crying
Reminders of the chimneys at the camp
Where her friends, relatives and nameless Jews
Were released as grey smoke to hover and signal release.
Everyday I see people covered in tattoos.
Tattoo shops pop up offering expensive artwork
Anywhere on the body, some covering every inch.
They don't know.
My mother had a tattoo way before they were popular.
She did not choose it -- it was forced upon her by her jailers.
A number tattooed in black on the inside of her arm
Her only hope of being identified if she survived.
The children born today have choices,
And must never allow a "Holocaust" again;
Choices to wear, eat, watch, think, and love what and who they want.
Make sure they know.
Today I had the roughest day that I have ever had
Of all the crazy, wacky ones, this day’s been really bad
It started when I first woke up and fell out of my bed
I cut my scalp so deep the blood was dripping from my head
I found some gauze and taped it on until the bleeding stopped
I put the coffee on then in the shower quickly hopped
But then I dropped the bar of soap, that’s when I slipped and fell
I twisted my right ankle and my knee began to swell
I poured some shampoo on my head and lathered up my hair
But some of it got in my eyes and burned beyond compare
Then as I limped out of the tub and went to grab my towel
I noticed something smelled real bad, something very foul
The eggs that I was boiling were now burning in the pot
The house was filled with smoke and the alarm just wouldn’t stop
I grabbed the broom and swatted the alarm with all my might
Instead I hit the ceiling lamp and shattered the whole light
I quickly backed away as glass had flown around the room
The day was only one hour old but I was filled with doom
I opened up the windows and the smoke went streaming out
My neighbors must have called the firemen I have no doubt.
Then in the hazy smoke I got some glass stuck in my foot
I guess I should have sat right down and really just stayed put
The firemen were quick to come, and call an ambulance
I felt like I was in a daze, a crazy dream or trance
The EMS removed the glass that stuck inside my feet
They bandaged up my ankle and my knee, they were so sweet
I guess I just can’t win, so back to bed I’ll go and stay
And hopefully, tomorrow it will be a better day
The old piano player tapped a tune but none could tell,
His hands were stiff and frozen, eyes stared into hell.
Tears fell from his cheek bones disappearing in his sweat,
As the lyrics told the story of the demons he had met.
Oh, he played with such emotion, his raspy voice sincere,
Yet the crowd paid no attention to the music in their ear.
They were there for drinks and laughter, forgetting for a while.
While the old piano player sang away his life's last mile.
There were countless roads he'd traveled, with companions now and then.
Fortunes gained, treasures lost to iniquities great den.
Many gods had been before him, he embraced them one by one.
Weaving webs that he had crawled on, now the last was being spun.
Still, the good crowd didn't hear him, as he sang into the night.
Life limped slowly through the rhythm, when the end came into sight.
Then, someone touched his shoulder. "Play a song we know," he said.
And the old piano player, fell upon the keys --- quite dead.
The horn blew as the wind picked the same moment
The note carried over the field and picking up speed
All memories of him drifted away as the bugle went silent
But she remained until the last rose
Later she would remember his last words
He had told her he would never forget her
And like the last star that goes where stars go
She went there as well
She went to that last rose and was comforted
She could feel his hands
She could smell his scent
And she saw the uniform and the horn
They met when he returned from the war and he had limped
He limped with warmth and with no complaint
They had one son but he did one too many bags
He carried his bags up his arm
And there was no bugle or wind
But there were roses and tears
They got through it with love and his limp
They sat on the porch rocking and remembered
Until his limp grew slower and the horn played
But the rose ...............
I took out the trash
After making some cash
I tripped over a bug
I got bit in the leg by a pug
I got up and limped back to my house
A kid started laughing cuz i was wearing my wife's blouse
I went over and punched him in the face
His mom sprayed me with mace
So i blindly walked home
But then i stepped on a garden gnome
I fell down in pain
Then it started to rain
I crawled into my livingroom
My wife hit me in the head with a broom
She told me to move out
So i went to stay with my dad
I went to his house to pout
I was so mad
I decided to watch some basketball on the tv i found in the trash
My favorite nba player is steve nash
I should've never took out the trash!