Best Shoestrings Poems
the balcony
a bird tugs at my
clean shoestrings
The sky was lit by blinding light
But, not sunlight
The panorama was painted with darting pellets
But, not of rain rivulets
The ground quivering under flitting feet
But, not earthquake
The horizon hung with billowing smoke
But, not pillows of fluffy clouds
The constant bombing sounds bombarded my ears
But, not fireworks
As I looped in my shoestrings and gathered my rifle
My eyes yearned for an eyeful of that rodent-bitten snapshot
Stifling a sob that pained my heart,
Knowing I kept my promise for the nation before I depart...
their eyes
they flutter
or is it propel
either way
a subtle prelude
to a kiss out of sync
their conversation
an amalgamation
of giggles and smiles
more telepathy
between hearts
than anything else
their legs
entwined like shoestrings
on a pair of old sneakers
seem to imply
the mating ritual
of hoverflies
l. it was seven octobers of knowing you
through refrains of musk earth and rosette skies ,
we lay with hands outstretched
under a family of flowering trees
riddled with moonlit pearls
feasting on legs entwined, laughing at shared tears.
we were everywhere,
between the falling of leaves and rising of our gazes,
the twilight fondling our fragrant tresses sweet
ll. and so it is,
at some absent place, at some errant time
with strains of our song “lost in space”,
you dashing off with your shoestrings
that meant , “maybe, i no longer care”…
yet, those screeches of madness turned
to wrapping of hands in prayer,
the midnights dark with rattling trees and shared tears
lll. and still, , deep upon our soul's abiding request
we blazed our torches rafting with angels’ praise
through refrains of musk earth and rosette skies,
we vow to sacred, godly rites
that flames in the wilderness will never cry.
yellow roses upon my feet, goddess of dawn
and saint of peace,
there is a lifetime of octobers gathering budding seeds,
if we feel that what is,
can be golden discovery weekends indeed.
Love Poem ( Old/ New)Contest of P.D.
Who knew that I would need
shoestrings to escape rape?
I felt safe on a double date,
the “safety in numbers” misnomer.
He came on like a ten-armed
octopus with suction cup hands.
The couple in the back seat
were obviously in full accord,
based on sounds my ears
were recording.
Out-manned in size and strength,
I searched for a weapon.
I found it in the glove box.
A single, unattached shoestring
serves well as a garrote
when applied to the neck
of one whose hands are
occupied elsewhere.
He took me home.
Patients in and out within the backdrop of muted rose walls, blue carpet,
dark wood and purple plaid textiles. As faces changed, colors clashed.
One young girl wore scarlet shoestrings and a gold skirt topped by a
fuchsia tee. Nurses passed quickly back and forth, wearing deep plum
and teal with neon purple latex gloves; Van Gogh in motion. Names
called out, processing a human throng in a sterile environment. Seats
for sixteen. Each one waited . . .feet tap, tap, tapping; magazine pages
flipped before un-focused eyes. A TV blared. Cups of bitter brew—held
in lifeless hands—grew cold and bitter.
Bill's name was called. I stood up. His doctor smiled, "He did great," he
said, and led me into a small room. He explained details of the procedure
and handed me an enlarged color photo, a glossy print depicting surgery.
As I stared at my husband's insides, he said, "This is for your family album."
A lot of time has passed
since freedom was part of the daily routine
Eat when you wanna eat,
sleep when you wanna sleep
Go whenever you wanna go to the latrine
No need to have to ask for permission,
freedom was a given
Getting locked in your room every night
is now standard procedure
Nothing you can do about it
... it ain’t your call
You’ve come to accept the imposed authority,
institutionalized you’ve become ...
that’s all
They’ve taken away your liberty ball,
and they ain’t giving it back
Not until the warden says so
Not until the psychiatric doctor says
let ‘em go
Not until the parole board says
you’re rehabilitated for sho’
Now you’re scared to go
Freedom is a distant relative
you don’t wanna know
Inexplicably, you’re so scared to go
You’re raising eyebrows,
so the authorities issue a soon-to-be-released warning:
No shoestrings in your shoes,
forced you to like velcro
No shaves
because you can’t have no
razor blades
Suicide performances
ain’t part of the departure freak show
Prison is a prison,
whether it’s a locked cell or a bolted door
in your mind
But, since becoming institutionalized,
the calming, daily routine has made you
embrace your loss of freedom more and more
The prospect of entering free society again
is a thought unkind
They flock in groups of three
and feast on shattered molecules.
They nag at your shoestrings,
waiting
for the moment you become vulnerable.
They will gnaw at your pulsating membranes,
leave a mangled carcass,
and consider their next victim.
They thrive between the living and the dead,
unsure of which path to pursue,
and as their claws rot and
their follicles disintegrate,
they will regret every moment
of their cancerous lives.
Once upon a time but not so long ago,
A man sat by a pond dangling his big toe.
A rather large fish enjoying his daily swim,
Noticed the mans big toe that kept enticing him.
The man saw the fish as he sauntered by,
He wanted that tasty fish and he must fry.
His pole already baited was lying by his foot,
When he picked it up it landed in the brook.
The fish all laughed at him when his worm escaped,
There would be no dinner on the poor mans plate.
The moral of this story goes something like this..
If your efforts are lazy you'll never achieve a thing,
Like trying to lace your shoes without shoestrings.
Do you know,
You can melt your shoes?
I bet your mother never told you that!
So, I will tell you now,
Rubber melts when held to the fire.
The fire gobbles up the shoes into a puddle that is flat,
Then you'll have to explain,
Why you need a new pair.
Again!
Your sister throws one of your shoes away,
Says it stinks,
Needs to go away!
My dog comes trotting by,
My shoe in his mouth,
To hide nearby!
The shoestrings broke,
On my left shoe.
Don't have any more that are new and blue.
So, mom has heard it all,
And walks with me down the hall.
Opening my closet door wide,
We both take a look,
At what's inside.
A pile of shoes,
Side to side,
Not any match with some too wide.
All of them have been slightly worn,
None of them are torn.
Still have good wear.
Mom says," You have plenty of shoes, pull out two that fit!
For the summer at least,
You need to make do!"
"When school starts in the fall,
We will start with a new pair of shoes."
So now I have learned how to make do.
Taking a shoe and boot out of the closet,
I fit one to the left,
And one to the right.
I wonder how long this pair will last?
Before they take flight!
Mesmerizing eyes shaded behind the draw blinds.
My lips are tied with giggling lace, to mute and smudge absent a feel.
A cold fragment, jagged and warped into razor ends.
A piece I believed to be lost inside a locker cast into sea, somehow netted from its coral bed.
a mermaid to be snagged from the crescent waves to drown a big heart.
Words are sweet but can be in comprehension ever so bitter.
So allow me to wipe away this painted smile.
A smile so vigorous with hope it could have ended the cold war.
-Mitch
-brooding centrifical, delirium flight
spiraling downward toward bruising the night
bouncing on sky skin with trampoline hair
shooting like rocket dust into the air
dipping each strand in the hottest of stars
gold tipped and fragrant in Jupiter shards
crushing the bones in the feet of desire
snapping back shoestrings of love ever higher-
I watched
I watched when I was younger, a woman lose her life
To a man, to a rock, to a knot, and never become a wife.
I watched when I was seven the most beautiful woman alive
She was oh so amazing, with big brown eyes
And two dimples at the corner of her smile
Before and now, she has walked a thousand.
I watched a woman began to hate
Herself and her life and begin to question her fate.
I watched a woman meet her prince
Only to be abused, and used at her own expense
And introduced to the “rock” of her life
That later brought on never ending strife.
I watched a little boy tie his shoestrings in a knot
A woman reach up, to cup, and feel a knot
A daughter fight back the knot in her chest
For her mom has lost her right, and now left breast
A son that was buried underneath the sun
Only to think of the “rock” because, this is where it begun.
Scissortail river running low beside the road
carrying a many weightless, little dead leaf
orange, yellow parade of patchwork vessels
passing beneath the old park bridge into shadow
I join a skipping-stone hunt along with you and June
working through silt in search for the perfect one
flat, smooth, of convex form, perfect
to soar from the surface in ricochet spin
We then each one built the tiniest of rafts
made of reeds gathered from the briar and knotted shoestrings
and away they raced, most coming upon rocks and breaking up
for only mine was somehow spared and drifted on
It too though disappeared under yonder oaken bridge
leading the cluttered cavalcade of litter and foliage
I wondered how far my raft might travel, maybe out to sea
as I trudged the mile home in laceless shoes
Ancient ones present me the wisdom
Allow me be influenced by the intuitive I Ching
Fall for nothing, stand for something
I value myself too much just to be someone's fling
Always portrayed an instinct to do the right thing
Gift me with sapphire instead of a diamond ring
In the 80’s my shoes had the fat shoestrings
Miyamoto Musashi taught me how to be a victor
In the literature of the Book of Five Rings
Never to sure what the future may be delivering
Elevate my awareness, I continue mastering
At times reality can be very frustrating
I imagine conditions could be worse all things considering
At night, if you're really quiet you'll hear the ancestors whispering
Inciting truth, knowledge, balance, and understanding
It's a shame people find being ethical challenging
Some say everything is everything
A lyrical concoction I'm propelled to bring
As I listen to the Carolina Wren sing