Best Shins Poems
One spring day meandering in a meadow,
I saw a butterfly whose beauty matched that
of May's azure sky.
With blue silken wings like that of a fairy,
she flitted here and there -
aimlessly as butterflies seem wont to do.
Oh, to be that butterfly,
alighting on any pretty flower whose scent delighted me -
unhurried and unworried.
I would be that butterfly breezing through the meadow
meandering . . . meandering . . .
to where – I did not know,
but soon I found myself beside a brook.
My heart became the song of blue bells
which danced with the wind beside the brooklet.
And as my little friend fluttered on,
I careened behind her with arms outstretched,
laughing as the long grasses through which I leaped
tickled the calves and shins of my legs.
Soon I was approaching a grove of tall green trees -
meandering . . . meandering.
I kept my eyes on the bright blue wings ahead of me.
Freely I flowed like the wind that swept through my hair
as it fluttered the leaves of the tall green trees
until suddenly – the butterfly
was vanished from my view!
I knew not to where I’d wandered,
but in my heart I had no fear.
All things come to an end eventually,
but also all paths eventually lead
to somewhere.
Turning myself back toward the direction
from which I’d come
and with my arms spread wide,
I let the butterfly in me
take me eastward -
meandering . . meandering.
There was a time when I was young
To share an era that begun
From music to the fashion trend
TV shows and history
Fads and other mysteries
I saw them all as time moved on
From classic pop to rock and roll
Bill Haley and the Elvis craze
And four years in my Air Force phase
But Jitterbug still hung around
The big bands had that unique sound
Time moved on to start the clock
European cinema
Fellini, Bergman made the mien
And Japan added to the pie
To film The Seven Samurai
Brando, Newman and James Dean
newly captured on the screen
Television's Golden Age
All the programs set the stage
For Gunsmoke and the Twilight Zone
I love Lucy, I married Joan
TV tubes were changed a lot
Wrestling shows were really hot
Mantle, Mays and Robinson
Took baseball to another rung
The coonskin cap and hula hoop
Duck tail hair and snapper soup
I wore one with a thick pomade
And ate the soup that Momma made
My fashion sense left much to judge
As if I had good taste for fudge
Pegged pants with a six inch rise
Ladys skirts were different then
Lengths that came down to their shins
Three inch higher was a sin
Still dirty minds existed then
In Belgium back in 58
I saw an exhibit on that date
The Sputnik with a cute stray dog
was launched so high up in the air
Before the U.S. could get there
Then the race to conquer space
McCarthy hearings, lives destroyed
The Cold War was our only plight
The Commies kept their nukes in check
And Castro entered on the scene
There were no hot wars left to fight
Days still continued as well as night
I share a new millennium
But today the future's not so bright
No more long hand, the laptop's here
Facebook and Twitter have conquered our sphere
The death knell has tolled for how life was then
Rekindle your past and live again
Ralph Sergi February 19, 2015
Decades by Kelly Deschler
Tediously bored, Sir Drake
Prolonged afternoon of tea and cakes
Jam coats his chin with gooey paste
A beard of crumbs hangs from his face
His manner somewhat hard to grasp
Small fingers smother giddy laughs.
.
To sup he’d need a tuning fork
to confound the smacks from lamb and pork.
Lanky strands of cabbage slaw.
Gravy splashes grease his jaw
Pastries flurry dandruff flakes
A grubby mess, grandiose Sir Drake
Theodore Aka Teddy Bear
With soggy paws and matted hair
Needs a scrub from his stout chin
to the furry spats about his shins.
Carried off by loving arms
A bath restores his stately charm.
The Little Dog ( Scotty )
I’m only a small female
Little legs you see
The other two are huge
Males big pawed and hairy
Great tongues lolling
But they protect me
They are nice to me
I’m only small
The human is a giant !
If I look straight ahead
I can only see the shins
And while the other two are off
Galloping and romping
I am trotting behind
Little legs you see
But the human
He waits for me
I think the human is male
He must be
As I feel so drawn to it
And its kind hands
And kind eyes
He must be male
I am female
I know these things
I love to go out walking
The human he takes us all
All three !
I have to skip over boulders
Which to them are just pebbles
And sometimes all of them
Have to wait for me patiently
Little legs with little paws you see
I love them all
Especially the human
And especially when he feeds me
Even more when he tickles my tummy
Do you know he built a little house for me
Just for me
I curl up on pillows at night
Nice warm and cozy
So because I love him
And even though I am rather small
I growl and bark
When he needs protecting
And I can see him smiling
So I know I am being a good girl
The human has a “ H U G E ” kennel
So big a dog could get lost in
And when he returns from being gone
He always lets us in
But never up those little floors
Which go to the place he uses for sleeping
Never mind
I am content
Like the other two
To curl on the soft fluffy bit of the floor
And wait dozing
Occasionally sniffing about
The place food is kept in
Till the time comes
For us all to go out walking
And then I can barely contain myself
In jumps and circles
While the other two are whimpering and whining
Time for them to go off running, snuffling and playing
While behind I follow
Steadily trotting
Little legs you see
But the human
He waits for me
I remember the day,
You came into my life,
Making my heart feel a warmth,
That I've never felt before,Your beauty is unlike any other,
For it is like a beautiful painting,
It shins all the time,During the rain or shine,
Your beautiful words,Your beautiful smile,
Your wonderful personality,
Just everything about you,
Makes a great gift to give,
And you are giving it to me,
Which I'm proud to have,
It all in my life,
For I will charish you always,
And try never to hurt you,
Giving you all that you need in return,
Celebratinh our love for each other,
All the days of our lives,Charishing all of our precious moments,
We share through the years,
Holding you tightly in my heart,
For you are my love of my life,
That I never want to loose,
And today is one special day,
That is for you,
My special Valentine.
Slight twitching of the toes
A shudder of the shins
The knocking of the knees
Is where it all begins
Vibration of the thighs
Through years of cellulite
Swinging of the hips
As it makes it's little trip
Grumbling of the belly
Way deep down inside
Till it moves up to the chest
To the thump of the hearts delight
Shoots straight to the brain
Where it bounces back and forth
Throughout the cracks and crevices
Till it feels it's run its course
Drops down to a lump in the throat
Giving way to speech
Spilling forth for all it's worth
In waves of poetry
Hate,
You came to me
When I was a child
I don’t want you to
Be near me
Ever again
It was during WW2
Japan ruled
Koreans obeyed
One day
Mother came home
With tears in her eyes
Her voice filled with bitterness
A Japanese soldier kicker her
With his heavy boots
In a busy street
Where everyone was watching
Watching her bruised knees
Discolored shins
I felt hatred filling my entire being
Spreading like a wild fire
Not only against the soldier
But against all Japanese
I was a seven year old boy then
Late in life
I realized:
This must be how we learn to hate
A person and a nation
If unchecked, the hate will grow
Like wild fire
Spreading all over
Mother taught me to love
She said love was like
Spring sunshine
Helping people to get out
Of their cocoons
And mingling with others
As brothers and sisters
But how can I love
Instead of hate?
I did not tell myself to hate
It happened without trying
When I saw Mother’s bruised knees
Ugly face of hate filling my entire being
With the red banner of death
Coaxing me to revenge
Can I shove this hate
In the chamber of my will power?
Or Will it explode with mighty fury?
Or should I pray to God to diffuse it?
Like a welcome Summer rain, humor may suddenly
cleanse and cool the earth, the air and you.
—Langston Hughes
RAINING IN SUMMER
The little teapot leaned over, steam pours out,
sizzles on the pavement. Trickles, sprinkles,
waters the subsidiary gardens that sprout -
those pointed out by a grandson. My wrinkles
curve up as the rain skillfully waters my willow,
my patch of roses and lilies, scattered and rare.
With Summer storm, I ruminate on a long time ago.
This grand-generation of blessing, not yet a prayer.
Drip…drop…splosh! The hope of the window pane.
We dream, as the outburst streams down to spill
our dreams, like seeds giving more than the mundane.
God saturates our lives with more than we will.
It’s raining Summer all over this land of honey-wheat.
Though droll and gray, a grateful soak gifts a sun rise.
My flower petals, leaves and boughs bathed in heat
and nourishing drink, replenishing the owls, and other wise.
Ker-splash, the puddles of inky-mud, stain the shins,
leave me, us, them, refreshed and sodden with grins.
Selected by the swift sound of hand to shoulder blade,
The bells upon their ankles sounded like seven trumpets
to me. I had been a chosen sheep among the Shepherd’s flock.
Lead me my Pharisees, I wish to see feel the glee in following
the Lamb within me.
The weight of my new necklace, crudely crafted of twine and timber,
swayed in a schism'd rhythm between my shins
bruises born from my steadfast faith. For I have never fasted
Before, all there was in my Ziploc bag was a single raw egg,
Two slices of wonderbread, three matches with no book.
I heard fireflies bounce in the air between my ears,
I could not see, you see I was blindfolded, but I felt no fear.
The marching sounds stopped, balsam trees surrounded me
and the rest of the chosen tribe.
Night befell the evening, the stars jumped and danced for me
For the Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty, His strength
flowed like the river Jordan in my veins. I had no chains.
Never had I felt grace like this before.
We awoke with gnats in our nose, centipedes between our toes
We arose, and our trials we must undergo.
Silence is the sound of our worship, broken by the
wood bashing between our bitten legs.
The kindling was wet, the bread was stale,
forging for food in the raspberry bushes, hunger flashed
in front of my eager eyes.
Memorize second Corinthians, some stories
I no longer care to remember. I felt the splinters
in my shins, the twine singed the hairs of my neck.
The breeze swung between the leaves and sung chants
that worshiped the King amongst kings.
The counselor crept out of the brush, and with
immense embarrassment I flushed
any of the chances of becoming one of the chosen few.
I could not immerse myself within the verses.
His eyes struck disappointment deep into my gut,
his knife drawn I knew I was cut.
The log crashed to the ground like lightning, the
twine left my skin red and raw. It felt like the
sting of a thousand roses thrust upon my nape.
My cross was no longer mine to bear, it was the end
I didn’t care.
I didn’t care.
I didn’t care.
I descended from the shining hill, back to
the cabins and basketball nets. I had failed.
There is a creek I will never wade, never cross,
I drowned in my disdain, my faith may be lost.
Another camper, another kid, lost in the flock
of the Shepherd’s failed kin.
each dawn, in the kingdom of skeletons,
bones knock together—
shins clatter,
ribs get a quick shine
as the kings rise with the sun.
the velvet robes
they've discarded moons ago.
their old souls
rest quietly in wooden beds.
no itching skin, no hair to comb
or run fingers through,
the steady clack of hollow heels
echo with each step.
the Duchess
gleefully spins around
all teeth and bone, barefoot.
they raise empty cups
and celebrate
breath that’s long gone,
dining on nothing but
the glow of moonlight.
you have to chuckle, right?
the afterlife has its own peculiar perks;
beauty be damned,
no one dresses to impress
since when do dead folks care about hair?
in this rattling land, joy endures.
the only thing broken?
funny bones, and truthfully,
no one cares to doctor them.
Hair like the beautiful brown bark on a tree,
but soft like the wind and the clouds.
Eyes shining and sparkling like the light reflecting off rippling water,
and so very deep like the oceans.
Nose, not like a branch, but there.
Out of the way like the sun is on a cloudy day.
Mouth. Lips of perfection; draped with scarlet.
Their imperfection attracts desperation.
Neck. Smooth and perfect, like the sand that stretches across the deserts.
Chest like non other, yet nothing bad at all.
Stomach and navel draw the eyes of passerby.
So precious its surface, longing for lips to touch and someone embrace.
Flat like the horizon, but curvy like waves in the sea.
Hips, bony and visible.
Draws attention when letting them show.
Thighs, soft and scrumptious, as one might say.
Lacks ugliness, as cow does stripes.
Knees of a warrior princess.
Strong and mighty, but pretty in the process.
Shins, so sharp and revealing.
With the calf's trailing behind like ducklings behind their mother.
Ankles of beauty, which lead to the foot.
Planted flatly each time it comes in contact with the ground.
So exact, the posture of the body.
Like a brick wall, never to come down.
This is the perfect body.
I worked in a bowlin' place settin' pins,
Tryin' not to let a ball break my shins!
In those days of yore, pins were set by hand,
And you had to hustle to beat the band!
I was around fourteen when I was hired,
And was around fourteen when I was fired!
The boss man paid me fifty cents per hour,
'Til one night our relationship went sour!
I advised him where he could stuff the job!
Said he, "Find another line of work, Bob!"
Couldn't face workin' there 'til I retired.
Found work pumpin' gas when I was rehired!
8 November 2014 - Entry for Sara Hendrick's "Jobs" Contest
The Banyan Tree
I the Atlas carry a home
My master strong for his
Children seven had built.
Shorts and skirts
Thunder up my shoulders,
All hell let lose,
With their galloping horse-hooves,
Ride up the stairs full a twenty.
Doomsday be here
While they make a merry!
Platoons of ghosts,
Burst through the door,
Somersaults quaking me, to and fro.
My arms aching in holding the floor,
Left and right till muscles do tear.
Roaring laughter through
Quaking windows four,
Trap door opens and shuts,
Opens and shuts.
Down they slide from
My shoulder to root,
Clinging and scraping
My shins a many.
One by one upto the stairs
And down to the root.
Witchcraft and magic
Can save me not
With wizards seven!
The lord I thank thee for the
Night so starry and breeze so cool!,
Nightly rest to heal my sores,
A generation over,
Another I do endure.
History changes not
With more furore!
Stout and and strong,
With roots many more,
I, the Banyan, will shade many more!
Balveen Cheema
September 9, 2015
Competition: Personification
why do we women wear high heels
even if it feels like walking on spikes of steel
balancing self and vanity on a pointy stump
women everywhere—young, old, slight or plump
to demands of beauty and conformity, we all do kneel
those capricious stilettos, so shiny but sinister
often leave a mark, bruise, corn or blister
hurt gullible shins, calf, hips, ankle and back
please someone banish them from the rack
oh!please forbid them, our reverend minister.
inches they do add to a woman’s height
wonder if the reward is worth the plight
why does she need to be tall as man
when it was never part of God’s plan
smaller but no less, she’s proved it alright.
Written on 06/16/2016
ELEMENTS part 2: WIND
Fiercely, it seemed the furious wind forestalled
The baseball game, bat and ball suspended.
How now must the players play without palavering
all over the green grassy glittering ball field?
Each one with helmets, tough hamstrings and hairy chins,
Chasing after that classic colored little ball
That the bowler spins lifting shins showing that
He'll get you out without any fuss for now.
A powerful element which elects at times to elope with roofs,
Assuming a windy whirling wrecking stance,
As though its speed should stall scheduled events
For which flyers were planned printed passed around.
A heavy task tidying up after this tempestuous wind,
After gales of gusty glaring gusts, push you from behind.
What a chaotic cheerless crowd, chattering on home,
To tell the terrifying tale to others.
Title: ELEMENTS part 2: WIND
Sponsored by: Brian Davey
Contest Deadline:
4/16/2016 @ 12:00:00 AM