Best Nubby Poems
"People will forget what you said, forget what you did,
but will never forget how you made them feel."
~ Maya Angelou
I woke with twisted thoughts, coiling in my mind
like a trellised vine, weaving through my head
Gnarled bits of thread stitched me to my bed
and both my eyes were sewn shut til I was blind
I heard the sound of my notebook pages turning
by one whose mind was gnarled and full of hate
I could not see to stop him. I was much too late
to save my poetry. They'd been set afire, burning
A grizzled hand ripped the stitches from my eyes
A man with bony knees, bulbous nose, nubby toes,
said, "I am an ugly thorn, and you a beautiful rose."
He cursed at me with a snarl, "It's you I despise!"
Tears bled from the gnarly bloke. One fell on my cheek
I asked him to please free me from the tangled thread
He released me, and then I stood before him and said,
"When a rose needs protection, it's a thorn it will seek."
He stood to full height. The scorning frown disappeared
A smile curved his lips and he flexed each fingertip.
He shook my hand as if we'd just signed a partnership
His life had meaning, for he felt esteemed and revered
no shoes to wear in today’s race
nubby knees show I’m such a disgrace
but I’ll show them I‘ll keep the pace
its all about regaining if that’s the case
It’s not how I look or who I am
I am me and I’m not called a sham
I’m leading the race each and every mile.
may cross the finish line but not in style
I have no money for shoes to shod
but that’s ok it won’t make me plod
It’s how I get there that’s the key
to win or lose doesn’t matter to me
still some miles I have left to go
I made it this far can’t say whoa
almost there to cross that line
now it’s just a matter of time.
looking back I can see I am alone
only want to beat the clock on my own
over many hills with expanding breaths
others gasping for air, and few untimely deaths.
this race does not occur on the road
it’s against time which I believe I’m owed
I have much to gain, less of where I have been
if time passes by me they’ll be no end.
race against time has purpose but is not futile
It’s mountainous, its efforts are brutal
to get past the banner of feeling wholeness
must have support and a balance for this.
common saying, “a rolling stone gathers no moss”
without spiritual gravitation I would be at a loss
now that he is running beside me I can keep up the pace
bless you Lord , my faith and devotion will finish this race.
I had no shoes and complained until I met a man who had no feet (past phrase)
I had feet but no shoes if that man had feet he too would have been in the race
I am fortunate to have feet, having no shoes does not impede my endeavors.
Therefore I am opposing defeat and will strive to prevail over hurdles and adversities.
A marathon is a challenge alone, without shoes it’s almost impossible
for Jesus it was not so for he journeyed many more miles
this provided me the endurance to carry on without shoes to the finish line
which we both crossed together
Im sorry girl but I know I ****ed up,
I know I can at times get so drunked up,
But truth is girl we got to go our own way and suck it up,
I love you still in my heart but we must part because its finished girl from the very start.
Love aint easy and that *****can get too hard but we must play a new hand dealt cards
You deserve better than me Melinda because I might just drag us both down to the dirt ground left in the dark with silence no sound from both mine to your town........Im sorry Melinda Rose
but love dies when it ceases to no longer grow
you see me less and less until the forever show
My love for someone different now is a choice I choose
I will miss your sweet red hair all the way to your nubby little toes
but remember Melinda Rose
our love can only die when it CEASES TO GROW .........
A simple piece of cloth
Square, rectangular, oblong
Soft blue, pink, green
Woven, nubby or smooth
It matters not
Cloth
Swaddling my infant babe
Cloth
In tatters
Bearing injuries honorably
Chewed, dragged, hugged
Kitty, bear or tiger
Cloth comes alive
In my toddler’s arms
Cloth
Stretched over table or chair
Tent, house or fire station
My busy lad
Creates an island of safety
So proud am I and is he
Cloth
At preschool
Comforting
Cuddled briefly
Stuffed quickly
Into a backpack
Forgotten in busy play
Cloth
Lying inert
Discarded
In an attic chest
Squatting
On the ground
My teen barely notices
Its displacement
His mind alive
New ideas
New destinations
New loves
Cloth over his marriage bed
Immaculately placed
Or rumpled, tossed, lost
Covering two
Sometimes three
Or more
Bills litter the surface by day
Crumbs hide within by night
A polka-dotted pattern
Tears of joy and sorrow
Aged now
Letting go
Of all
But this one piece of cloth
Grateful for its presence
Wrapping, wrapping
Boundaries fading
Cloth as a shroud
Returning his body
To its source
A blanket is never just a blanket....
***A Parenting Tale***
He must’ve been
Just barely fourteen, but still off as
A ninja filling a pillowcase
with chocolate on Halloween.
Although through all other days
his ken was an avocado green,
That is actually a deep
nubby, buttery green.
The older teens, always girls,
Stood leaning on the fenders of their parent’s cars,
Twirling their lemon curls around
Still child-small index fingers
While foot tapping to some unknown
Time until night cloaked our court.
Then, with a wave of the girl’s arms,
our son collapsed to fit out through
Keyholes or go with the autumn mice
Under the garage door, to slink
From one girl’s car to three, where
Not one pair of pink lips cou answer
me if her parents knew her where?
Hardly a surprise then one night
near ten p.m.,
When authority alarmed, fist-knocking
on our front door. Police?
What is the, aaa, problem, sirs?”
“You’ve a son we’ve gotten word of.
Is he home?” Yes. Well, yes.
Certainly, yes. It’s bedtime…
He comes down, cool from his room to
Join us in the hall, looking face to face,
so sliced-olive green.
The officers, wasted not a second.
“We’ve a warrant for a missing girl,
A friend of yours said you knew.
Have you seen Anna Joe today?” No.
“Have you had company tonight?” No.
“Have friends up there with you?” No.
Then to us, “We’d like to go up to look.”
I was mother-so-proud assuring, “He
doesn’t lie. I’d’ve heard company.”
Within a minute, the parade came down
The stairs: handcuffed girl, officers
with son between them and coming to
Stand by me, supposing it was safe.
I screamed, “You lied! To the police!
To us!” Then, I swung my arm back
And forward again with force from
Knowing how he’d dealt us into danger.
I smacked him hard and loud
in front of the police in that
Scrapbook moment of parenting the idiot
Events of a bean-green teen, which also
ended musical car nights on our
court.
————————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young Eslinger 2/6/22
I kneel in my bedroom
A nubby knit blanket softens the wood under my knees ankles toes
I take the thin black cap of dark red polish—
The color my mom said no to when I was young
The dark of a girl’s shadow on a wall, a lamp draped in scarlet silk
I bend forward and make careful strokes
The Shangri-Las “Paradise” comes on shuffle
I become conscious of the world’s spin—
The shifting of the people money feelings wind time and endless wastelands, tumble
My head sways, I know the moment
I let a red drop slide down my thigh
I am happy to be held in my body—
Surrounded by the madness of being alive.
Mr. Racist, Mr. Racist,
fills with hate the empty spaces.
Mr. Racist, Mr. Racist,
of decency he'll leave no traces.
Mr. Fugly, Tubby Racist,
don't know how to tie his laces.
Buggy Nubby, stupid racist,
don't know how to be courageous.
no shoes to wear in today’s race
nubby knees show I’m such a disgrace
but I’ll show them I‘ll keep the pace
its all about regaining if that’s the case
It’s not how I look or who I am
I am me and I’m not called a sham
I’m leading the race each and every mile.
may cross the finish line but not in style
I have no money for shoes to shod
but that’s ok it won’t make me plod
It’s how I get there that’s the key
to win or lose doesn’t matter to me
still some miles I have left to go
I made it this far can’t say whoa
almost there to cross that line
now it’s just a matter of time.
looking back I can see I am alone
only want to beat the clock on my own
over many hills with expanding breaths
others gasping for air, and few untimely deaths.
this race does not occur on the road
it’s against time which I believe I’m owed
I have much to gain, less of where I have been
if time passes by me they’ll be no end.
race against time has purpose but is not futile
It’s mountainous, its efforts are brutal
to get past the banner of feeling wholeness
must have support and a balance for this.
common saying, “a rolling stone gathers no moss”
without spiritual gravitation I would be at a loss
now that he is running beside me I can keep up the pace
bless you Lord , my faith and devotion will finish this race.
I had no shoes and complained until I met a man who had no feet (past phrase)
I had feet but no shoes if that man had feet he too would have been in the race
I am fortunate to have feet, having no shoes does not impede my endeavors.
Therefore I am opposing defeat and will strive to prevail over hurdles and adversities.
A marathon is a challenge alone, without shoes it’s almost impossible
for Jesus it was not so for he journeyed many more miles
this provided me the endurance to carry on without shoes to the finish line
which we both crossed together
Raw,
a nubby grey knuckle-boned day,
when the wind blows through my skin
pulling at the cord
which holds my insides in,
oh infernal internal wall
keeping without without
and within within,
off key Wednesday
crashing chords that I have swallowed
not a passing thought for the blue tunes of tomorrow,
or the music I have made thus far in life
and the ones that I have begged or borrowed
as always I’ll wait for it to pass
fill the gallow glass
to fetch me a drink while I think
but no-one is near
my fault, not because I fear them
I hear them in the hall
scratching
but I don’t let them in
it would give them a chance to win
I need them on my page
to take away the blank
fill it with ink
because being empty stinks
I don’t want the void
empty yarn from a ragged yawning hole
so I’ll sleep,
hope to feel when I wake
no idea how much more time it is going to take
will it break me or make me
perhaps I will try the fake me
the one with the smile
the one I revile
but there it is
sat on my face
smug and satisfied,
all while I’m melting away
a Dali soft watch
on this raw knuckled day