Best Polish 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!
I think it's always been there
just in the back of my mind where
a moral spin
of subtle children's interpretations
recalled a story told in Babcis and Dziedzic explanations;
(grandmas and grandpas) *
Some men and women find themselves in darkness lost
just like the solitary man in the moon at winter frost,
he or she led a life distorted
wallowed in the lust of flesh, greed, lie, and sin
until one day, the life itself had come to a desperate tragic end;
life's lessons well remembered,
he or she sought forgiveness from Hell's embers
and the spirit of the Lord heard
listened hopefully to the imploring words
asking forgiveness for the lessons learned;
the answer came with a yes
but first a life long test
a message for the rest
be guide, be light
on every cold December night;
"until time's end, then
at the apocalypse of noon
forever be -
the man, the women, learned teacher
in the face of the moon."
Joseph May
Fabled Musings
2/7/21
My big sisters were being kind to me
It was not like them to be so nice
Big sisters fall from an evil tree
and I'm sure mine fell out twice .
Yet here they were being lovely
Inviting me to play
To be in their gang I must have a password
and here's what I had to say .
Polish it behind the door
But I must say it very fast
Say it once then two times more
That was the test I had to pass.
I was so delighted to be sharing
I said their silly password
Then I heard ''Mother'' our Darren is swearing
He just said a naughty word .
Mum came in with her slipper
Whacking me on my bum
It hurt even more when I saw my sisters titter
They were having so much fun .
Why did they tell such evil lies
I'm not playing with them anymore
but there were tears of laughter in my eyes
When they told me what ''Polly'' did behind the door.
She was going to visit her old auntie at 91 years
The sweet old aunt lived in her own home
in the town of Ostrow Lobelski in Poland
On the floor she found her body lifeless and cold
Her heart did not beat, and she was not breathing
Medical and police were called
The old auntie Janina Kolkiewicz was declared dead
After she had been in cold storage at a mortuary for 11 hours
she ensured that the employees got themselves a real shock
Body bags began to move - she was not dead
The niece says that when they came home
Janina asked for a hot cup of tea
she felt cold all the way into her body and soul
- This is a true story !!! -
16.11.2014
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
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
There once was a dumb blonde from Warsaw
She was the dumbest I ever saw.
She was bound for Krakow
But wound up in Moscow
Holding a kielbasa in each paw.
Who says a limerick has to be Irish?
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
She smile at me and my good looks appear
Her teeth beautifully arrange in the same bright and white of eyes
She make her curvy walk on the street, and her untainted pensiveness transform the place to the street of gold
Her steps signal an aura of confidence which diffuse as a scent of a moving angel
Her smiles air out a soul connect of delirious desire
The earth and heavens are in awe of her empirical reality
Her aura of beauty illuminate the entire masculine cycle
Who is that man that passes by without exhilarating and distracted by this unusual earthly Aphrodite
Yet she bends only into my ceiling and my little slipped into her yields a melodic moan
Oh I can hear—–the earth so exclaim!
Yes! They can hear me say—–she is my polish queen
The earth stood still and glanced at how I fix my hands to hers,
As we both exhale alluring romance
The flowers sing and dance, oozing their scent, giving her many ovations at a smear of her lion
The wind blows bending tall trees to smile at her
Her beauty covers the earth and love rain plentifully
Her gentle soul soften the sun not to be cruel on earthly creatures
I can hear the birds tweet my name to her
Yes! She is my polish queen…
The birds sing to accord her walk into my arms
Oh! The heavens declare that she is a desire of every man, but her heart beat for one
Yet my thigh wriggles to her and my sweat plant a seed in her
Yes! I can hear her say ……..I’m your polish queen
Alas! The earth prostrate, the heavens triumph,
As I declare ——-she is my polish queen.
for lovers all over the world
There once was a dumb blonde from Warsaw
'twas the dumbest blonde I ever saw.
She was bound for Krakow
but wound up in Moscow
holding a kielbasa in each paw.
This dumb blonde headed back to Warsaw
without kielbasa in either paw.
Under a chair beneath
she had lost her false teeth
and had to eat sausage through a straw.
written March 15, 2011
I checked the syllable counts in each line myself
Captivated and compelled to find my little friend,
who has broken out in song again.
Sitting on the window ledge,
he stretches his neck as he tilts his head.
Releasing a group of compact and purposeful notes,
I gaze blissfully upon his silken, iridescent cloak.
Feathers...
Fashioned and fitted
and plucked to perfection,
he begins to sing this mornings delightful rendition.
I am wondering what makes my little friend sing out like this today ?
What meaning is his melody trying to convey ?
....The morning’s announcements ?
Meant to guard the others in his little band, against the peril at hand.
A few of his ravenous neighbors are on the prowl,
scouring and scouting his surrounding acres now...Be on watch !
BEWARE !
Or is it a pledge of noble chivalry, his love songs sweet endowments of fidelity.
Could it be a gleeful ode of expression, my excited little friends’
personal impressions of Mother Natures morning menu ?...
Is he calling to his brethren so they can begin sampling too ?
Could he be pronouncing and proclaiming the virtues of his simple existence ?
Or, perhaps, instead,
he is voicing his frustrations,
with winters harsh weather,
as it transitions,
into springs bountiful splendor.
I dare not ask as I linger there, in quite admiration
appreciating my little friends melodic and heartfelt song.
Charmed and besotted by him, I am taken unawares.
The song sung by one has turned into TWO !
They sing together,
ever so sweetly now,
as a pair.
Freedom/ slavery gestalt
What productions ensue
To get ahead and sequester the wealth
Without sacrificing leisure or health
Traditional paths wrought
Meet fault lines of fatal constraint
Free market bettors know ahead
To furnish class and a swollen bed
Its a good lie to tell
And what an enduring spell
Melting technologies, the wry adjustment
Polishing gold on titanic buttress
Be a good slave
And your freedom you will earn
Having much leisure to burn
And satisfy luminous craving
Model generations smugly implode
As the pension strategies erode
A numb cynical idea circulating
Running out the daylight in futility
All these antiques are left
The relics creak about in their shanty house
Framing wall paper and arranging eyelids
As they cling to a spiral demise
Nail Polish was originally for boys
But when God spilled it all over the planet
And painted everything colors he was unsure of
He decided that boys wouldn't be able to handle it
And gave it to the steady hands of women
I am a kettle made of stainless steel
I am a saint, for tea is brewed to heal
And , unlike kettles on an old coal fire,
I am not dirty nor do I perspire.
My mirrored sides reflect you as you cook.
Look at me and read me like a book
I’m full of love and hotter than a man
Oh, dear lady, love me while you can.
Superior mother, yet inhuman I;
Even electric kettles sometimes lie.
I shall never punish you, my dear
For perfect love like mine shall wield no fear.
All I ask is that you polish me.
For, in between your hands, I yearn to be.
Polish off your polish prep yourself for parting with what you want try your luck and fail, fail again and work on your polish. Choose it now.
Sweltering tears flow
as resounding bullets echo
Dressed in a neatly pressed uniform,
polished boots and a distinctive hat
Bright metals adorn the solitary cloth
worn like that of an aristocrat
Large stones stand on all sides in military solute
Flags wave wildly for this star-studded tribute
Brave words drift softly from mouths of those gathered around
as another soldier's coffin is flawlessly lowered into the ground