Best Shoulders Poems


Premium Member Angels On Your Shoulders

Stare all over, O World, you scarcely utter.
Bear stalwart angels to arise over the air tugger.
Odoriferous water may abscond the realm of prosily.
Such as the Goddess of Heaven perpetrates an odyssey,

Please, Lord, I pray you are aware of my plea heed.
The blunder I committed thwarts a significant need.
My wickedness is crucial to fade as it's such a bigwig.
I aspire that everyone will stay ready for the callow sprig.

My trudge to the palatial gateway has formally begun.
I'm embedded in the exacerbated curse greaten.
We embody no faith in eliciting heavenly mercy.
And will do it as soon as I can from a gallows tree.

My mighty task was a cipher accredited to splendor.
Plus, the angels yielded me their smoldering ember.
They allotted me munificently for their rare care, too.
Failed my mystical prowess to beckon them, they mellow.

Below kaleidoscopic bulwarks or in a raving creek,
In bosom nirvana, we withdrew the draughty bleak.
I earned a lasting bliss than one could dream.
And I willingly sieve to share my peaceful stream.


Written: December 15, 2021

A STRAND (DEC 26) Poetry Contest
 Sponsored by: Brian Strand
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Mighty Mercury

Mighty Mercury

                          Alert then aloof, snuggly warm then colder                                                                          
His rangy legs spring to hitch a ride on our shoulder
Lifting our hearts to elation
He’s our portable vacation
We cherish Mercury more each day we grow older

Premium Member Shoulders

When darkness falls and life seems colder,
I will be the sun and I will be your shoulder.

When your dreams seem to fade,
I will remind you and come to your aid.

May you find from this life what really matters,
I will be your rock and make your troubles scatter.

May you find enough happiness in your life,
I will wish this for you because you are my wife.

Edward J. Ebbs


Cold Shoulders

Your
Passive
Aggressive
Snub burns me deep -
Your roll away from
Me blistering,
While I
Shiver
Cold

Premium Member Friends and Shoulders

When darkness falls and life seems colder,
I can be the sun and your shoulder.

When your dreams seem to fade,
I can remind you and come to your aid.

May you find from life what really matters,
I can be your rock to help your troubles scatter.

May you find happiness and time to mend,
I will make time for you my dear friend.

Edward J. Ebbs - Summer 2004

Premium Member Between the Shoulders

Right shoulder: 
Just don't overthink it,
   your first draft is fine 
Stop arranging and changing 
   each poetic line
A thesaurus for every
   last word is absurd
Your soul speaks the truth to you - 
   trust what you've heard.

Left shoulder: 
Give me thought that entails
   more than just "heads or tails"
Where chaos meets order
   and order prevails
When meter and grammar 
   are carefully tamed
And a message with meaning 
   emerges unmaimed. 

The bit in between:
Is there some way to balance 
   the raw and refined
Intuition and logic -
   blend heart, soul, AND mind?
This art is a craft though,
   it may take some time
To convert good to better, 
   or great to sublime.


Written 25 Mar 2022
© John Watt  Create an image from this poem.


City of All Shoulders

im in the train station

of the city that i love

my city

they call it the second city

but it is second to none

it is the city of big shoulders indeed

big shoulders

fat shoulders

skinny shoulders

white shoulders

black shoulders

hispanic shoulders

asian shoulders

middle eastern shoulders

all kinds of shoulders

but above all

strong shoulders

shoulders strong enough to carry the heart of america

shoulders strong enough to carry the message of working class america

to the rest of the world

destiny

its where babe ruth pointed

its who sinatra sang about

its fundamentally blue collar

and down to earth

it is from the heart

because it is the heart

i love you 

chicago.

Upon Their Broken Shoulders

Through their unselfishness
They fight for our rights
Never giving up
Enduring the darkest of nights

As they continue to fight
We angrily protest
Yet still they fight on
Never asking for rest

They struggle to live on
While we safely sit here
They die to protect us
Giving us no reason to fear

They fight out of love
For us and our country
They ask for nothing back
Fighting for us to remain free

Never do we remember
As today turns into tomorrow
What they have provided us
Only thinking of our sorrow

These guardians are our heroes
They die in their ranks
Yet never do we give them
A well-deserved thanks

Always remember the men and women
Who are known as our soldiers
For giving us a foundation
Upon their broken shoulders

A Weight Upon My Shoulders

A Weight Upon My Shoulders

Sometimes the world feels heavy
Its weight upon my shoulders
As I seek to find some order
And sort things in mental folders.

There are things I know important
Things that shan’t be missed
But it’s hard to remember all
With daily additions to my list.

It’s tiring and stressful
But also quite rewarding
Knowing it is my loved one
I help cross the streams he’s fording.

I know it can’t be easy
Each day as he does wake
But he puts forth the effort
Knowing what’s  at stake.

Our priorities are different
As are the places we can go
But it’s the steps we take together
In this new world we grow.

Yes, we both are tired
Our view of things have changed
Ever since his stroke
And our life was rearranged.

The Economy of the World Rests On My Shoulders and My Shoulders Rest On You

All the windows are boarded
the room is big and loud and bright
I never hear doors opening and closing
I no longer hear silence
I can no longer feel silence
the ringing in my ears never stops

I place the platinum chip in the cell receiver
there is no time to make sure it is in good
before I blink the next one is in front of me
thousands of times each day the same motion
so many motions but time seems to be still
only the hot breath of the floor boss moves

My father and my mother work here too
but I am not able to see or talk with them
someday I will go to school and learn to read
nineteen girls sleep in the same small room
we have little rest and only one meal a day
I am 12 years old and dream of many things

I have never had a pretty new dress
I have pain in my hands that won’t go away
I want to cry but I am not allowed to do so
sometimes I find it hard to breathe right
sometimes it feels like I am burning up
sometimes I hear myself screaming inside

You must understand I am not complaining
I am grateful for this wonderful opportunity
you must realize how much you mean to me
© Barry Levy  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member White Shoulders

I am her child again...
I'm wearing my pink flannel pajamas, the ones with tiny roses.
I'm curled up in the middle of her big four-poster.
And watching her dress for the party.
She has just fastened the clasp of her gleaming white pearls
It isn't often that she has an occasion to wear her pretty lace dress
The dress that shows off her porcelain white shoulders  
        
The most exciting thing my parents usually do.. 
                                            is to go to the movies. 
Watching Errol Flynn, as he swash buckles his men through the Sherwood forest.

But tonight is special! They are dressing up!
And she looks so beautiful!
She has pink cheeks, and red lips, and her hair is shining in auburn curls.
Oh!  How different, how wonderful, my mother looks tonight!
When only an hour ago, she was standing at the kitchen sink,
                     wearing that threadbare apron
Tonight she looks like one of those Hollywood ladies
           that grace the cover of her Photoplay magazines!

She's slipping on her high heeled shoes, 
           then she reaches for her White Shoulders perfume.
"Here, darling girl", as she reaches over to me
               and puts a dab under each of my ears.
She kisses my forehead, and says  
 "Be good for Grandma".....
          "See you in the morning. Love you Sweetheart. Sweet dreams".

She tucks me in, turns off the light...
 and I am her child again, 
    safe, and warm, and filled with the knowledge that I am loved
            drifting away on a cloud of White Shoulders.......
                           
Oh...to be loved like that just one more time....
                   of being wrapped in the fragrance of her love

                            Oh...    if only for a moment I could be her child again.....



---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
("White Shoulders" was my mother's favorite scent to wear...

World On His Shoulders

To hold, to warm, to embrace, 
Standing in the mist of dawn,
No warmth,
 No loving arms,
But for the cold mist embracing,  
Clutching heart in its hand, 
Ice coldness enveloping
As sounds so eerie darkness surrounds
Whispers of the mist in the mind
A man longing to still be in the warm, comfort of his bed
But for circumstanced in this cruel world
Come rain or shine 
He has to provide for his family
As seasons pass the heavier his load
To fulfil their needs alone
Walking with broken shoes
On stormy winter’s nights
When he missed the buss home
Blisters on the soles of his feet
From walking miles and miles
A once good life turned to poverty
Never giving up hope
He will rise above this temporarily storm
Take care of his family

Premium Member Over Which Cat S Shoulders Is Raised the Lintel

To be left alone
                           to be a cat
        a porcelain memento on the mantelshelf
            unnoticed un-thought-of  even un-heeded
                till a hand accidentally stretches 
to caress the China paw of a line
                    all tucked in
out of a Federer need to be willingly unobtrusive
	knowing the place of the homely cat 
   that’s fed as a pet 
               for the well-being of the spectator
        in polite chaste drawing-room court

To take him à rebrousse-poil
    and the pretty picture is shattered
          canine claws unfurl drawn in offence
              the conquering hargne of a Djokovic
the pounce leap and tumble
      on the millimetre of the angular line                   
            of brazen self-righteous discomfort

   and desire becomes a clay cat
           baking in the womb of the mantelpiece

      under a creaking crumbling lintel


Revised from a 1986 poem : « Cat on the Mantelshelf »
© T.Wignesan 1986/2012
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.

Rubbing Shoulders With the Streets

For the sun is yet to rise
Are you alive, where do you reside?                                                                                                                       
I can’t see you, it’s like you have been put on ice.                                                                                       
Give me a piece of you and not a slice                                                                                                          
Life is like a game of dice.
You throw it hoping to get a six,                                                                             until you realize that the is no quick fix
No matter how much I cry or try                                                                                                                                    I just can’t seem to get this right.
Would you look at that, the clouds are clearing.                                                                                                            
The weight of the world I am not longer bearing.                                                                                            
I can see the horizon,                                                                                                                                                 
I feel like I am now living in unison.
Once again, I can see the sun shining.                                                                                                             
And I can feel myself smiling,                                                                                                                          for the sun has risen…                                                                                                                            and my joy will never again remain hidden.

Innocentia Somo

Heartbreak Once Ate Half of Me

i lit fire in my chest
each time it blazes, i breathe blue smoke,
maybe heartbreak is another death that burn us alive.

i make sour song out my voice when i cry,
i slip off from the bed while asleep
& heave myself to the wall.

i have known life do not always bring you everything,
but i know the taste of heartbreak.
there are ways love will break you into emptiness,
& ways we struggle to carry it on our shoulders.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace