Best Sleeves Poems
our hearts were once joined,
now apart the degrees
of separation are burning,
my wounds are weeping
there is no other day
judgment came yesterday
Autumn leaves began their journey
as my night was laid to rest
the walls started falling down
scattering the Rose of Sharon
a bed of flowers to die in
a place to lay my weary head
I can no longer go walkabout
black smoke is streaming
a signal, all is not well
there is only one reality, now
tomorrow has yet to come
yesterday is already history
I must savor these last
moments, sucking in each drop
in desperation I prayed for hope
for the will to fight again
but also for the strength to let go
my fingers slowly lost their grip
creeping my purchase crumbled
sinking ever deeper
becoming an automaton
I am going through the motions
watching the lights extinguish
along with my last grain of sanity
the cloudy waters of my heart
dream poems, writing of the light
I can surf the stars once again
the lip curls, it is folding my heart
and creasing my mind
sanity has fled on golden wings
as sleeves of soul sway in the breeze
Val’s daughter was picking her nose
Then wiping snot on Val’s new clothes
When Val finds sticky mess
Of green slime on her dress
The distress in her quickly rose
Green bogeys all over her sleeve
So slimy they make poor Val heave
To resolve this issue
Hands daughter a tissue
But bogeys on dress will not leave!
Val’s outfit that once was pristine
Is covered with snot of bright green
To compound Val’s distress
She cannot wash this dress
Dry cleaning should get her dress clean!
each stanza 8,8,6,6,8 checked with how many syllables
3/14/19
Jack Daniels could grow very mellow;
They called him a jolly, good fellow.
But, strange as it seems,
The good fellow turned green,
When he fell in a tub of lime Jell-o.
Winter leaves us shivering, and leaves trees bare
As we await the cherished spring
Snow is everywhere
And upon the branches snowflakes cling
As silence becomes frozen on the wing
Spring brings to trees their leaves of green
And brings all the blooms we see
The landscape becomes a beautiful scene
And squirrels chatter with glee
As they scamper up a dogwood tree
Then birdsongs awaken me at dawn
as the wind rustles through the leaves
The sun rises with a yawn
And through the foliage its light weaves
And attires the branches with sunbeam sleeves
1-4-2020
Sap squeeze,
Hug trees.
Inspired by Brian Strand's Footle contest. 5/18/11
A Chest there did inter a King
Her grave was never marked –
A body packed as Arrows – Down –
In worse – A Common Bark
No Greener Sleeves – than Envy
Where ripped apart by Dogs
Owned masquerading Saviors
With faces meant for Frogs.
By train, plane, by wings,
I hear the angels sing.
Their featherbell sleeves,
golden flutterbies weave
in mind-blowing confection.
I remember the affection
for long distance kin and kith —
missing links that make me writhe,
and Niagara Falls - its plunging
neckline, of psychedelic rainbows, lunging
catapult of sentiment and mist.
The kiss of sunflowers on smiling lips,
cruising excursions, explorations then kips.
The reward of sleep in the rocking cabin -
the deep with its sonorous spin.
Let the feathers fly! In travel, they win
and at last I’ll be calm of Hesperus dreams,
those dreams that come apart at the seams.
I hold tightly to sleeves, that cure of Spring,
a blizzard of lucid color that true living brings.
3/5/2021
Couplets - most with rhymes
For my family members
Holidays over
It's back to work
Duties, tasks, orders no more to shirk
As for me, I reckon
More retirement beckons
Yawns, naps, googling away
~ Wasting every precious day
I got to roll up my sleeves
And go to work
Even though at times I simply don’t want to
There is no choice
Says a voice
I got to do what I got to do
For work pays bills and keeps you alive
I have rolled up my sleeves
And got to work
I am staring a new life
On a strong note
Work keeps me alive
There is nothing else to be more precise
How much my wish is for you to believe.
Your place in my heart that those eyes couldn't see.
Predestined obsession of hurts, hopes, and dreams.
Anti-stain fabric, our hearts on our sleeves,
Cold water wash only, our hearts and our sleeves.
Both torn and undone in their own hellish ways.
Untangle tangled up beauty, from where do you hang?
fifty five degrees
state wide drawer search for sleeves ~
florida winter
Sam’s butterfly sleeves, in pastel hurry,
Gently billow like seagulls over feet.
Indulgent, salted drops of sea, so sweet.
Tan sand across her sandal straps, run free.
7/23/2021
Caren Krutsinger’s Flair and Fun Quatrain
ABBA
We want long sleeves sometimes.
But that’s what death is.
A short sleeve tee.
Folded away.
Layers of fabric of time.
Unfolding on my being.
Tugged over my head.
Too small somehow.
Death becomes whole.
Like a tee shirt with a hole, but can be salvaged.
We throw on a long sleeve jacket.
That’s what death is.
Tragic and worn everywhere.
Trying to keep warm but not overheated.
That’s what death is.
Could get thrown away easily.
Not knowing I am next in line.
Tragic.
Torn.
Folded up within.
I could die at any time.
That’s the magic of tee shirt weather.
I wear my heart on my sleeve,
love too deep,
give too much of myself away.
But I wear the insults too
like tattoos etched beneath my skin,
words I never asked to keep.
I take things personally,
not because I'm fragile,
but because somewhere along the way
it was carved into my brain
that every broken thing in the room
must somehow be my fault.
So every criticism finds a home,
every rejection grows roots,
and every harsh word echoes longer
than it ever should.
I've spent years carrying
other people's anger in my pockets,
mistaking it for my own reflection.
A body covered in fingerprints
from hands that never stayed long enough
to see the bruises they left behind.
I love deeply.
But what nobody tells you
is that people who love deeply
often bleed deeply too.
And when you've spent years being told
you're the problem,
even your wounds start apologizing
for being there.
I wear my heart on my sleeve.
But the hardest thing I've ever done
is learning that not every wound
belongs to me.