Best Nail Poems
Nail Polish
I’ve polished all my fingers,
And polished all my toes.
There’s polish on my knees,
And even on my nose.
I’ve watched my sister do it.
She always gets it right.
But when I try to paint it on,
I’m such a dreadful sight! ~
Though I get it everywhere,
I really wouldn’t mind,
But someone help me figure out,
How it got on my behind!
Nails grow long and shapely
Standing out against the
Finger where it is filed
Down to a silhouette
That forms an erotic
Design against
The backdrop
Of fleshy
Fragile
Skin
Nail
Artistically
Colored with
Reds, pinks, auburns,
All the colors of polishes
Meant to reflect the glowing
Profiles of these well-rounded
Voluptuous digits that correspond
To the beautiful hand they are attached
To and are used to do the their daily tasks
Double reverse Etheree Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Shadow Hamilton
Written on September 24, 2014
He bites his nails beside me on the bed
so loudly! This strange habit is most grating.
I’d like to throw a pillow at his head,
but he would just continue, not abating.
I’m used to just how vexing he can get,
like when he begs for food that I am eating.
When someone comes to call, he gets upset;
then settles down and gives a gleeful greeting -
Unless the visitor is someone small!
He sits and stares if I pick up a child
then panics if the infant starts to bawl.
I love my doggy though he gets so wild!
Although a naughty child himself is he,
how sweet and trusting is his love for me.
The covered bridge stood over swollen water,
its weathered beams gone nearly black with rain.
All afternoon the storm had gathered force,
unraveling crimson leaves from maple limbs
and hurling them downstream like scattered sparks.
I stopped before the threshold of the span.
The river bellowed through its narrow banks.
Wind drove the rain in hard slant sheets of gray.
The bridge appeared less certain than the flood.
Yet someone built it for a night like this.
Someone had trusted timber, nail, and stone
to hold against the temper of the sky.
That thought became a lantern in my chest.
I stepped beneath the roof and felt it rise~
not wood alone, but every hand that shaped
its arch above the water's restless throat.
Around me autumn surrendered branch by branch.
Behind me lay the shore I knew too well.
Before me waited mist and hidden fields.
The storm still spoke, but no longer as threat.
Its voice had changed into a rough instruction~
the heart is not made brave by standing still.
By midstream, dusk had settled on the world.
The crimson leaves kept passing underneath.
The river carried all it could away.
The bridge, despite the weather, held its course.
And when I crossed, the storm remained the storm ,
yet something in me found a way to rise.
Today, upon the ground, I found a rusted nail.
Red and yellowed since its use,
It was caked and swollen; cracked lines top to bottom
With one turn in its body where last it was removed.
And the head was tilted slightly from a blow
Received when it was first employed and put to use.
I pondered of the purpose it had served
And the structure it had helped to hold and form.
I recognized its shape having spent many days
With hammer in my hand and blueprint in mind.
I have straightened many that were pulled and bent
And drove them to serve purpose.
Once this nail had value and function was providence.
Now, it fills a wrinkle of my palm
And leads me to wonder….
What will someday become of me?
Will a member of the generation born this day
Look upon me and speculate my past,
And weigh my usefulness against my keep?
Will I present as bent?
And, will the balding gray and shortened step
Persuade them I have passed my day of worth?
Or, will they look about their world
And see what I have made?
So much from just one rusted nail.
4th place in "Darn I Wish I Wrote This" on 6-26-12
I am nail polish in tiny jar
and I resent the lack of room.
The brush takes up too much space.
I hope I'm used up soon.
My name is "Crimson" on jar front,
and I feel I'm sexy doll.
My owner slaps me on her toes
when she goes off for a run.
I like the view I have on them,
giving ten eyes on the beach.
I sure have fun when I'm on nails...
She finds it hard to reach!
Mainly I sit here in the jar
waiting for my turn.
I'm better than ALL the colours here.
MOVE OFF "Jade" or "Forest Fern"!
3/6/2017
On A Nail
Dust pan on a nail.
Worn out burgundy sofa in the corner.
A scratched window pane
and empty liquor bottles.
Bruised black banana in a brown bowl.
A discarded nylon stocking.
Lipstick marks on a cracked mirror
and tear-stained tissue paper.
A ripped up photograph on a bureau.
A dusty blanket and a broken porcelain vase.
Torn lace panties.
Spilled contents from a cheap jewelry box.
Dust pan on a nail.
Dried up toothpaste in the wash basin.
Fourteen strands of blond in the bristles of a brush.
A gaping green purse.
Rosary beads scattered on a scarlet bed spread.
Red strangulation marks on a svelte neck.
Stiff yellow corpse in the shower.
Two eyes bulging from crusty sockets.
Blood stains on the tile floor.
A black dagger next to a white bathtub.
Stale yellow liquid in a toilet bowl.
Dust pan on a nail.
A story about a young boy and his father,
The boy was smart, diligent but hot tempered,
When vexed he has no choice of words,
He is careless even if that gets you annoyed.
One day he realized he had said something bad
So he walk straight to his dad,
'I know I hurt you' daddy am sorry, says the son
He sheds and tremble as to the other end he tends to turn.
"To say you are sorry is one thing son,
But that does not mean the pain is immediately gone,
There is something I want you to practically learn"
Says the father as he shows his son the packet of nail in his hand.
Take this packet of nail, says the father,
When you sleep, eat, play it must always be near,
When angered and you can't control,
Take one and nail it on the wall.
The first day, on the wall he nailed three,
Realizing he hurt no one, he knew his soul he is setting free.
He continues day after day
Nailing on the wall the same way
Daddy, the nail is finished, the boy said
That’s a great thing to hear says the dad
Now here is what I want you to do
Whenever you say SORRY go to the wall and had a nail remove.
Days past and again came the son
All the nails on the wall are gone
Daddy said "Let take a walk to wall,"
And tell me the lesson, it you have learned from.
I have learned that I say whatever comes my mind
When angered, vexed or mad
It as a result of me being idle
Says the son, and that why my temper I was unable to handle.
That is one but I want you to learn this today
Said the father as he moves to the other way
Nailing the wall represents the rude behavior and words you say
Removing the nail is the sorry you say.
Despite removing the nails there is still a hole
So don't see your 'am sorry' as an achieved goal.
Be mindful of what you say or do to others
For even after you say you sorry the hole lingers.
NAIL POLISH
Is something special
happens when you read
this ?
my hands are cold to touch
you,leavening my pen
holding you fingers
biting your nails
door of sky is open
with the paired of birds
in the sky,stars are laughing
on me with the rain of sparkle
wind bewitching with the
condiment sentiments of
our love by fire got on my
painting of our freeze moment
colors flow from the height of
mountain to a river to meet your
nail like a shine of it,
smoke of my painting flying
like a butterfly in my heart to see
how your Nails
are looking when you open your eyes
with love all
jagdish bajantri
(Limerick)
A fellow was pleased with a sale
Till noticed the boat was missing a sail
He was very sad
And got so mad
He hit the man who did the SALE with a NAIL!
Dorian Petersen Potter
Aka ladydp2000
Copyright@2014
September, 8, 2014
My nails I’m biting
Crashing noise so frightening...
Thunder and lightning
I want to write a funny poem now
after reading Darryl's poem
Why do men think there is no tomorrow?
Because they always want it today
What does a bird say to a bee?
Watch me haha
I'd better keep it clean
Keep it down, will you?
The neighbors are sleeping ha
Is there earthquake around here?
I heard the ground is shaking
Don't be too long
I'm coming haha
That's it for now
I hope you enjoy it
Earthshaking moves
Easy will ya?
Inspired by Darryl Ashton's "Body Talk - remotely" poem. Thanks, Darryl :)
The nail
One point
One arrow
One strike
Blood spurts
Blood Flies
Blood cries
Two moments
Two holding outstretched hands
Two lonely lovers in strange lands
Veins cease to flow
Veins leaking into the earth
Veins grasping at all the possibilities
Three days
Three Crosses
Three lies
Life dances over the rainbow
Death creeps up from under earth
Three times I have recited dearth
A hunter with bow across this land
Seeking to pierce the very heart of eve
The ice cold winter stops him bold
Love died, is three times too old
Tooth and Nail
In this space, this world we have created,
it is - for most – a very slippery slope
that seems – for many – to be frustrated
by this feeling – there is very little hope.
Upon the edges of this world – scars of mans
attempt – fingernails ripped from his hands.
Upon the edges of this world – craters from teeth
attempting – hanging by the skin of, from underneath.
On this world – from man’s shadows chained –
all that fate, karma, choices made, nothings gained,
for in the end, what is it that will remain ?,
that when we look back, be considered sane.
My words, my thoughts dance to a different drummer,
this places me on the outer edges, making life a bummer.
Life seems to exist on the fringes of winter – seldom summer
sings its songs to my ears – seldom a joyful hummer
will I be, for you see, I dance to a different drummer !
Doing so, I can find no band in which I might play
because my tunes touch most, reach none – nothing stays
categorized, for me – no place to belong – stark are my days.
In this world – life for me – to be on my own.
Journeys, adventures – life for me – all alone
as I fill my days – empty – in my little home
with little light reflecting from my shiny chrome.
And so, for those who care, or care to see ?,
there is little I say, I feel, that could be
a full representation, a complete picture of me.
Lost in the subconscious blackness – an obscured sea.
B. J. “A ” 2
March 3rd 2006
CH. His nail scarred hands shows me the way. His nail scarred hands holds my hand.
When I'm lost when I'm afraid. His nail scarred hands shows me the way.
VI. I heard Thomas didn't believe until he saw them for himself. Nobody else doubted
Jesus, 'cause His nail scarred hands was on the cross.