Best Splint Poems
Today was a good day
Today he walked on legs unbent
And erect spine of a man intent
On stilling the cacaphony of monotony
And smoothing the callouses of convalescence
For today, we both forgot
The wasting rate this cancer's wrought
Today, he teased and squeezed and poked
Fun at his trademark old school jokes
Laughter's remembered warmth evoked
Today he drove his rattling truck
His feet sure on the pedal's pump
And carried boxes of tradebooks and tools
With hands that know weighted control
Today, without a splint or cane
He tamed steps of receding pain
Today, through a briefly calm sea
He is the man he used to be
So today, I can foresee
The luxury
When days like these
Are ordinary.
1/23/21
`
"Amid the jagged shadows of mossy leafless boughs; "
- Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Where demon seed, long cast o’er hallowed ground
pierces the death hardened soil,
thorn and bramble gather over darkened culverts
as a magpie peers from a barren branch,
seeking chain and splint, shards of the past and refuse
cast along greasy curbs, urine stained and flocked
Street lamps flicker, spitting kerosene among
dampened dreams of misty prophecies,
dripping senseless feelings ‘pon
fractured sidewalks while muted footprints wander,
muddied tracks woven in the darkness
of another’s hope, disappearing beyond the rusted gate
And I, fearless in the cold, frigid winds
gusting towards a tomorrow’d passion,
a bough of moss creaking along desolate twigs,
tortured thoughts and worried chapters,
leafless in this winter of no vacancy
and spoiled apples call…
for I am the Night Keeper, the harbinger of moons,
restless on this eve of starless wishes,
broker of destitute destinations, waiting in
these jagged shadows of your own making
midst crying vestiges of failures found,
to lead you into the depths…
…of your deserved delusions
11/22/19
Writing Challenge 3, November - Any Form
Sponsor, Dear Heart - Wisshkobi Ode
Looking all around me and becoming more aware,
Of the people and surroundings at which many children stare.
I come to terms and realize the acts of hate I see,
And now I fear that this same scene will soon envelope me.
Walking on a lonesome road, though crowded it may seem,
I pass through silent hordes of people hushing silent screams.
Beside me standing hand-in-hand, an older man and wife,
I wonder if they thought like me, what happened to their life.
I reminisce now further back before these broken days,
A time of wasting food and drink and dressing different ways.
But now we all look just alike in tattered grays and browns,
Drifting through these damaged streets and sporting matching frowns.
I thought we'd left the two world wars and poverty behind,
To linger in our broken books and fill an older time.
A time where death would cloud the world with sorrow and disease,
And fear would plant itself within the innocent with ease.
This made me think and look around for Noah and his arc,
And for the first time since the night I heard a flustered lark.
I quickly turned around to spot within a child's hands,
An injured bird whose time had brought it here from other lands.
The child stole a piece of thread from a redbreast robin's nest,
And wrapped around the ailing bird a splint so it could rest.
An hour past the lark took flight and answered to the wild;
The only resting place of hope is in the bright eyes of a child.
Today I found a bird with a broken wing,
From whence it came, I know not where.
His delicate body shuddered in fear,
The pain he felt was much to endure.
Left to die without help to survive,
This little bird stumbled around outside.
Without ability to fly,
He suddenly noticed I was holding him still.
I then softly whispered in his ear,
I'll take care of your broken wing.
I will take you home and repair you for flight,
So you will be back in the air to fly.
The bird calmly rested,
His little heart slowed down to a normal beat.
He felt the gentleness of my voice,
And knew he would be safe once more.
I comforted and mended his broken wing,
Fed him droplets of food and drink.
Comforted his trembling body as best I could,
Removing as much fear as I was able to.
The weeks quickly passed,
And the bird's strength improved.
I could see he was ready to test his wing.
So I removed the splint I had wrapped him in.
As soon as the splint was removed,
The little bird looked up at me and blinked.
He then began to move his wing,
And test its strength to begin again.
I took him outside in the fresh air,
Where he could smell nature's breeze,
And feel the world at his feet.
Still fearful of taking flight.
Within moments,
The little bird looked at me again,
Then spread his wings,
And took to a tree.
I left the little cage outside,
To let him know a home was nearby.
Protected from harm and weather,
Until he was able to take flight.
The little bird sat in the tree for days,
Then suddenly,
He let out a screech,
He took flight and flew up high.
He flew away,
But to my surprise,
I can still hear him tweeting,
In the trees outside.
©2016 by Lee Christine Brownlee
Aristotle, who once said, “A flatterer is a friend,
Who is your inferior, or pretends to be so.”
Magician or not, the appraisal we try to defend,
Veneer covered ready, prepare for the overthrow.
And a splint named psychology supports nowt,
Tender are the suspicions, a tourniquet gripped,
That of emotion, a trend compared with doubt,
And complacency set amongst the less equipped.
Human form takes shape of Copernican theory,
Between each other, is the central perspective
Years ahead in terms of mind, yet still we query.
Remaining wary, they’ve listened so corrective.
A glimmer of paradise from that which destined
More positive than rightful, for instance, must,
Be seen as most probable, avoiding a rescind
Of harmonies that quaver a motion. Well, just!
And the motion we speak of, like a whisper,
Eases the tension between people who feather,
The hearing sensation shall understand crisper
Torn between plusses and negatives; whether!
The flatterer is found as the darkest seclusion,
Reflection of them is the question of mystery
A misty environment that forms that illusion
Chronically synchronized a challenge to history,
To beat out the drum of intention, as constant
A theory relating to trust involving apple trees
Has a Newtonian law which shall transplant,
Gravity, attached friends upon a breeze.
In feather-like spirit, the meadow may drift
An illusion that folds from the first dew morn,
With goose bumps that wrinkle a wary shift
Trusts! Where the sugar sweet mentions are born.
That’s what friends are Law, children at heart,
Make-believe portfolios of whimsical worth,
Fasten the button on jumpers, and bonnet apart
When blue summer dye creates umber for earth.
Perceived as a coward on grass that’s not green,
Glass, not a ruby, when trust solves the riddle,
To finish this mantra this causes serene,
Convinced like a Titan’s romance of the fiddle.
Oh! Zeus, need we flutter the discord to ride
The twirls of Hyperion, who teaches the master,
To dance like an ocean and swirl like the tide,
As trust gains momentums avoid the disaster.
brittle stained jagged fingernails
scratch against the splint hairs
of a cold weathered wooden elbow
an impatient clock had sapped
a once supple leather coat
now requiring constant mending
as homeless unraveling posed an inevitable ending
torn pockets spilled over
with a plethora of dead letters
hope had long ago delivered
its final walking papers
without care of return receipt
handmade trees with news of unease
spun unmercifully
into the arms of a brisk fall breeze
birds began their escape
into the mouth of another sun
a slow rise from a patinaed throne
on a benched park seat
a myopic vision of how cracks
are formed on overused and forgotten streets
she walks alone
to nowhere
a decayed ballerina
the place she is seen as most complete
Poor Frosty’s carrot had unfroze
Quite useless for a snowman’s nose
It looked such a sight
Bending to the right
Looks like a limp ‘dong' I suppose
So frosty visited his doc
Said his carrot looked like a limp ‘sock’
It’s gone soft and looks pink
Kinda looks like a shrimp
Kid’s uploaded me onto tik tok
Doc urgently gets on the case
(Limp carrot cause he cannot trace)
He’ll make a carrot crutch
Which will help him so much
Soon carrot’ll be back on his face
The carrot gets wrapped in a splint
It stiffens, Frosty thinks that’s mint
Frosty’s nose now looks ace
Firmly back on his face
Limp ‘carrot’ just use the doc’s hint
For Barry thanks for the inspiration xx
04/04/22
1. All I want is an increase in bonding
and on that smile to be a shareholder
watching the growth of your guts silently
to tenderly tame a curious filly
and put our hearts to a lovely feast
Chorus
I’m trying to make you see
I’m trying to make you know
I’m wishing to make you feel
that your heart is all I need
2. Let me shield your errors with a bumper
allow me mend those cracks love, with my splint
I’ll make those pains exist in brevity
making sure your shame and worry don’t bloat
to raise happy moments, never to slump
Chorus
I’m trying to make you see
I’m trying to make you know
I’m wishing to make you feel
that your heart is all I need
3. In the land of beauty, you are sovereign
perceived so perfect as I stay snowblind
your resistance seemingly factitious
clearly flaunting your charm on a showboat
but to another, you showed the sky light
Chorus X2
I’m trying to make you see
I’m trying to make you know
I’m wishing to make you feel
that your heart is all I need
Spark forgotten birthday candles
Brittle kindling of bike less handles
Kiss less shins that need a splint
Graduation's a lonely stint
Cover up, cover up, skin is showing
Guilt you’re here, big and glowing
Heartfelt softness never seen
All adults are really mean
Solo outings, deplete dimension
Counselors pondering intervention
Cover up, cover up, skin is showing
Swallow shame, and keep on going
The silver cup it left you dry
Needs long owed they make you cry
Fantasies turned abysmal tears
Deep deep down are only fears
Cover up, cover up, skin is showing
Hopeless now is done bestowing
A steely decade begets rejection
Unchanged bandages near infection
Breeze, her walk it sears your cheek
I need you-repel you. I am freak!
Cover up, cover up, skin is showing
Idle now and long stopped growing
Sleeping to the evening news
Existing far beyond the blues
And then awake a puppy nuzzle
In it’s sacredness a puzzle
Cover up, cover up, skin is showing
And just like that
you are unknowing
When midnight tides impeach my chamber door
And clot to rot the splint no flood can pass,
By thrashing currents, shocked, I drift ashore -
An endless stroke of pain where grains are glass;
If day has ever been, then sun collapsed,
Where darkness blindly carves relentless sight;
There is no spectrum here, as time elapsed
Itself renews in everlasting white.
But yet I walk in search of something blurred,
Aware my feet have bled the ocean red,
Without the use of eyes to chase what’s heard -
A promise broken when its maker fled:
Though nothing new, my heart beats borrowed blue,
When lies impeached were wives that said, ‘I do’.
11/29/2018
Submitted for: The Colour of My Heart
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Mint, peppermint, Cool Mint, badminton. . . .
But that's not what I meant.
You still don't know what I meant?
Then I'll give you a hint.
There's a famous guy named Clint.
Yes, his family name is Eastwood.
As an actor, he's sharp as a flint.
He always wears a shirt with a nice tint.
He hates to drive a car with a dint.
He once wrote a book that never got out of print.
He once daydreamed of being a quint.
He's diligent, he always works without a stint.
"Go ahead, make my day!"
says he, with his eyes shining with a glint.
So tidy is he, well-dressed is he,
without a single loose piece of lint.
Never did he do that, no he didn't.
So said he, with his trademark squint.
But he's not learned enough to be able to read a Septuagint.
Once he broke his leg, and they had to put it into a splint.
Journey Of Heavens Solider On Earth
Am a Solider stranger here in town?
Walking am so lonely
Just another soldier man-without guns
Yes am really lonely
I sojourn from a land
Destiny quest I find
On this path my bones ache
I have been beaten now am shy
Have been beaten and I wonder why
Where are the guns that you hold the swords that you believe in?
Where are the people that you trust?
The commander in chief is now the thief
Are we living?
The questions in my hearts needs solution
Time, faith, love, truth, Christ,
Concepts complicated
So who do I turn to for clarification
VOICE OF THREESOME
Had Christ not come……
SOLIDER
I wish to write to you that’s giving up
I wish to write to all of my people
to write about the importance of sticking together as a team
about holding hands and speaking in one common language
FAITH
It’s a splint of light in a dark world
It hands possibilities to you
On a platter of believe
Flooding your weak emotions with the
Mainstream of his passion
And filling your cup with his desire
From your longing
A proof that whatsoever you face
Would fade
It believes that
When you go through the fire
Won’t be burnt
Through the water
Won’t be drown
If there be more opposition like the walls of Jericho sing it down
Faith is timeless
No need to work with your biological clock
Even with the deadliness of Sarah’s womb
Men on pause
Couldn’t stop Isaac’s laughter
While the morning came with tears running down his old eyes
As he took his little grown son by the hands
To the mountain to fetch woods
Grief sore his heart
How can he tell his wife that the
Promise child won’t come back
Home with him
Because he obeyed just a voice!
Don’t finish yet Gods barely started
The baton has been passed to You
Make history print your name in the sands of time
Put on the armor of Christ and stand
Like a soldier stand
He was a midnight black stallion with little white spots;
Who only let me ride him, but others could not.
He had a temperament unstable, make no mistake;
His looks, not his personality, earned him the name of Snowflake.
Snowflake could out run and out jump other horses,
But didn’t like being confined to show jumping courses.
We received no blue ribbons and won no silver cups,
But out in the open that horse could giddy-up.
I preferred it with no saddle and he preferred it too;
My parents didn’t like it so they seldom knew
When Snowflake and I would go off by ourselves,
Riding through the canyons and the red canyon shelves.
One day he miss-stepped and off him I flew;
I broke my right leg and he broke his too.
I made my own splint and noxious with pain,
Somehow was able to mount him again.
Snowflake limped home, my tears mixing with his sweat;
The look on my mother’s face, I’ll never forget.
My leg was set and put in a cast,
But Snowflake’s ride home would be his last.
Now every winter when the first snowflakes fall
That beautiful fine stallion I lovingly recall.
I have left the canyons and my riding life behind
But a better, truer friend, I never will find.
By, Joe Flach
For Constance's Contest: Horses and Snowflakes
I went with both "Horses" and "Snowflakes", also using Snowflake as the horse's name.
{This poem was entered but did not place in the ONLY 2025 POSTED POEMS CONTEST, judged on 1/21/2025}.
This entry is for the Second Chance For Non Placement Poetry Contest
_____________________________________
The Little Face I Was Born With
Christine Munsell, January 2025
This is the little face I was born with
And when you meet me you will see
My little baby face
You may not see it right away,
But you will see
This little face
With, still, the hope I had as a baby
That someone will love me
I have love
To give
To others
To the universe
People have come into my life
And I, with each one,
Bond
And each one will detach
Like a shin splint
An injury that burns, but I know this feeling
I know how it goes
And one day, healed,
I walk on, I walk, not away
But just one step in front of the other
As a baby does
I am still that baby
The one my mother loved (until I matured
And then she walked away)
Without real relationships with people
With Christmas alone,
My birthday alone
Any illness alone -
I still love,
I love the animals who look at me
With the intensity of a magic spell in child’s play
A smile of knowing - there you are,
You, my great blue heron - i love you
You, my sweet young possum, let me feed you something
All of you stray cats in the dry blizzard, I’ve warmed up some nice wet food
For all of you. I’ll also set out some warm water for you to drink.
Just give me a little eye contact – I’ll talk so sweetly to you.
caught beneath a nautilus
rudders spinning, cutting my breath
into bubbles that pop on the surface
i never thought i'd get my wish
when i asked to taste the dead sea
salt and spit and sweat and piss
i'm drowning in all of it
head beneath the waves
staves prickling from each and every crayfish
coral reef scraping my flesh
and nobody sees me waving wildly
i'll die before i sleep with fishes
i laugh at the contradiction
then slowly float backwards
head collapsed from pressure
eyes swollen shut from sodium
cuts in the splint of the fissure
spasms in my side
my heart begins to quake
that's when i died and found out
god tastes like...
(okay, so i'm offered a snackcake... and i give a polite "no thanks." i then get this
strange retort in effect. i couldn't get it out of my head all day.)