Best Stubbing Poems
I stubbed my toe ...
(I do this a lot since turning fifty-five,
when everything I picked up to read began going to
arm's length in order to be visible,
and "readers" became a permanent style change -
I see things in the lower part of my
vision through wire-rimmed lenses that ride low
on my nose, and the mid-to-upper
views are naked eye, hence my feet are nearer
to objects than they seem,
and my podiatrical digits pay the price)
... and though this particular piggy-pounding
was as intensely painful and bloody as any of the myriad
bashings that preceded it, and while the air around me
reverberated just as rhythmically as it ever had with
streams of well-placed and frustration-relieving profanity,
and though my fists pounded just as relentlessly against
my thighs in anguish as they ever had before, (the purple/
black damage there to be tended to at a later date), and
while my face grew as contorted and red as was humanly
possible, THIS specific stubbing, was entirely different ...
... for when the aforementioned processes had run their
rather ugly (and noisy) courses, THIS time I smiled,
reached for my sublimely-timed Frozen Blue Margarita,
raised it to the direction of the accident itself, offered
a heartfelt blessing to that marvelous twilight air, and
TOASTED the very object I had stubbed it on ... a tree.
But you see, THIS tree was surrounded by cool, white
quartz sand, was near a lagoon that shimmered with the
colors of a peacock, and was festooned quite wonderfully
and perfectly and tropically, with PALMS ...
... battered toes ... be damned! ;-)
Categories:
stubbing, adventure, appreciation, beach, pain,
Form:
Free verse
Stubbing my toeses and whiskers on women
Stepping on nettles and by a swarm of bees bitten
Bounded like hostages tied up with strings
These are a few of my suckiest things
White collared phonies and bills piled in oodles
Bad smells and poop felled from schnauzers and poodles
Old geezers who cry when the old swooner sings
These are a few of my suckiest things
News from the presses with more stock value slashes
Cornflakes that grow soggy when in the milk splashes
Little wood splinters that felt like a sting
These are a few of my suckiest things
When the moon lights
When the glee sings
When I’m feeling glad
I stumble upon one of my suckiest things
And everything turns bad
>
Categories:
stubbing, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
Little pebbles of broken glass, litter the streets, but the children run barefoot anyway.
Stubbing toes, contracting disease, playing with cigarette butts and discarded syringes.
The teens hide by the dumpsters, and quickly pump a vein.
A homeless man, jealous of the teen; instead, clenches his timeless drug of choice, a good ole' fashioned beer.
The sun still shines on the dust covered signs.
The streets crumble under the weight of America's ever increasing obese population.
Nothing has really changed, besides new acceptance of tried and true vices.
There’s always little kids causing trouble, teens using drugs, depressed old men drinking away their shame.
America is still the same great country,
Far superior than all the rest!
Despite their reduction in crime, lowered drug addiction rates, drop in homelessness, and constant upkeep of their buildings and streets.
Well besides all that... America is still Superior in Every way….
Categories:
stubbing, addiction, imagery, slam, society,
Form:
Blank verse
oh that wretched hand
keeps pulling me to one side
I cannot see, but feel comfortable going
where there is no direction
blinking eyes mean nothing here
things are the same opened or closed
one step after another, the stubbing of toes
for all I know the same dog
has bitten me thrice
everything looks the same
smells the same, taste the same
dammit I’m not even sure what I’m after
but I cannot stop moving
oh there goes another stubbed toe
and this one appears to be bleeding
or is that maple syrup
this way, this way, this way, always this way
where on earth is the exit door
Categories:
stubbing, writing,
Form:
Free verse
Once a little harmless turtle went a- walking ‘round the loop,
caught his little baby toe and ended up in turtle soup.
While the doves mourned his misfortune, sun set down behind the hills,
all the turtles gathered in their shells to guard against such spills.
On the morrow, signs were posted there before the deadly loop-
this prevented harmless turtles ending up in yucky soup.
As the days stretched into weeks, the peace in turtledom was great:
not a single little shell-back ended up in bowl or plate.
Came along one day a snakey- past the sign and ‘round the loop,
caught his little snakey belly and, you guessed it- snakey soup!
For he hadn’t read the sign, so neatly scribed in turtle scratch,
(in a slip’ry snakey brain that sort of thing is hard to catch).
Since the turtle signs are meant for little turtle eyes to see,
makes them not so clear to others, like a snake or you and me.
If, by chance, your toes go walking, don’t get caught around the loop-
stubbing one and then another, you’ll end up as poet soup!
(for the Turtle Soup contest)
Categories:
stubbing, funny
Form:
Couplet
From within the frost frozen bare boarded shed
with its loosely hung zee braced door agape,
the spring light peeked.
Warming the woodsheds King pine planks,
toasting the ten penny nails,
popping the planks to a toe-stubbing height.
Door slamming dashes barefoot
through the obstacle course of cord, tinder, rake and hoe,
to the semi attached outhouse.
Drawers half down, butt bitten by March’s wind,
the two holer waits, lye bucket at the base.
Curled, yellow-brown, newspaper pages from 1890,
the shade of Uncle George’s pipe stained teeth, wiggle in the wind;
as do I when an updraft attempts to speed dry my bottom.
I make a half-assed mad dash to the kitchen door.
Half way there I stop awestruck
at the gapping door to the kitchen garden.
Raspberry red, tit tipped rhubarb buds and stalks,
warmed by the sheltered spring sun set my mouth to drool.
So stands, a waylaid girl child in transit.
Categories:
stubbing, childhood, happiness, lifespring, spring,
Form:
Free verse
Stubbing my toe on the corner of the bed
Hitting my thumb with a hammer
Someone misquoting something I said
Can really fill me with anger
Paying through the nose for cable TV
Thousands of channels they say
Only to find there is nothing to watch
Day after day after day
Walking into to the kids bedroom
To find it all a mess
People who pretend to be listening to you
When they really couldn’t care less
People who walk right in front of you
And then just suddenly stop
Now that can really irritate me
And get me blowing my top
I must admit that in the past
To punching the odd hole in the wall
But anger is a negative emotion
And it can take its toll
Because now I am almost bald
I think that most unfair
But that is what you get
After years of pulling out ones hair
Lots of things still make me angry
I could go on and on
But now I just take a deep breath
Count up to ten. the anger soon has gone.
Categories:
stubbing, anger, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
“Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer?
Because it feels so good when I stop”
Searching fulfillment in each written sentence
On route to becoming a great moral being
Voids of feeling should start with repentance
Relaying the outcomes to all that I’ve seen
I stumble and rise as I journey forward
When obstacles bring me to stubbing my toe
I persevere ever through each raging torrent
And question the norms of the status quo
I climb as I bang my head against walls
Halting progression to sky phases next
I carry on further the burden to fall
Blinded in ventures through mazes perplexed
So why do I torture myself it may seem
Continually beating my way to the top
The fight for the cause does justify means
The shifting of balance feels best when I stop
Categories:
stubbing, angst, confusion, life, mystery,
Form:
Quatrain
Hitting your thumb with a hammer
Is liable to make you curse
But stubbing your unprotected toes
Is likely to make you swear even worse
You feel such a bloody idiot
For being so stupidly clumsy
As you moan and writhe on the floor
In unimagined agony
Until the pain has abated
To a level more tolerable
You are little more than a baby
Gibbering like a fool
When you’re feeling better
You examine each injured toe
Imagining the worst case scenario:
To hospital you’ll need to go
But there’s nothing wrong that a sock
Won’t conveniently hide
All that’s really hurting now
Is your bruised and battered pride!
Categories:
stubbing, funny, humorous, pain,
Form:
Couplet
Stubbing a toe hurts like hell
Count to ten or curse and yell
Never to learn, walking in bare feet
When suddenly brick pillar my foot did meet.
Limping, near crying I hobble indoors
My stupidity again put me in the wars
Elevating my foot hoping pain quickly ease
Controlling each breath as I slowly deep breathe.
Scrapes of skin and beginning to bruise
My little toe, shades of red and blue hues
Swollen, still swelling and when I think back
I'm sure I did hear the sound of a crack.
Pain killers inside me, indoors I did stay
The bruising and toe was bigger next day
My tiny toe like a mini fat sausage
Shoes always wear - my imprinted self message.
12.08.21
Categories:
stubbing, pain, self,
Form:
Rhyme
Sort of like
stubbing one's toe,
if you dare to love
a bruise can form~
a deep rosy shadow
in response to your
amorous sunning –
love burns
both inside
and out
take lots of lotion
if you have such notion
exposing the heart to elements
like, who can really predict the
weather, an educated guess
at best?
so, who can predict
whether with love one is
or not to be blessed?
Though God, the starter
and stopper of human
hearts – when it comes to
romance, in the theater of
love~ pray, as you may
but Love seems to insist
on writing and performing
only its own chosen parts....
Categories:
stubbing, loneliness, longing, love, love
Form:
Free verse
Bumping into everything
Stubbing my toe
Hips are bruised
Fractured my elbow
Tripped over the dog
The wall was closer than it appeared
My nose is now broke
Something I've always feared
Contact Lenses
Maybe glasses will do
I hope I don't look in the mirror
I'd scare myself too
Categories:
stubbing, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
Fast asleep in a reclining chair, woke from slumber, by crashing thunder
Suddenly the lights go out and the TV flickers in and out
Darkness comes about, silence of the TV seems to just shout
Dazed and confused, looking for a source of light to use
Stumbling all about stubbing my toe, ouch!
Whipping winds and heavy rain broke out a window pain
Wind and rain come gusting threw
Blowing over a lamp that can't be used
Frighten dog and a scaredy cat whimper and cried
All the while looking for a place to hide
Shoring up the window blocking out wind and rain
Out of hiding comes the cat and Great Dane
Freezing weather out of doors, inside the fireplace roars
Cuddled up with my cat and Great Dane, here I'll stay until
the storm is contained
Categories:
stubbing, storm,
Form:
Rhyme
From within the frost-frozen, bare-boarded, shed
within its loosely hung zee-braced door agape
the spring light peeked.
Warming the woodsheds King’s pine planks
toasting the ten penny nails
popping the planks to a toe-stubbing height.
Door slamming dashes through the obstacle course of cord,
tinder, rake and hoe;
to the semi attached outhouse.
Draws half down,
butt bitten by March’s wind;
the two holer waits, lye bucket at the base.
Curled, yellow-brown, newspaper pages from 1890,
the shade of Uncle George’s pipe stained teeth, wiggle in the wind;
as do I when with a holler as
breeze to bottom freeze dries.
A half flashed mad dash to the kitchen door
is halted; awestruck at the gapping door to the kitchen garden.
Raspberry-red, tit tipped rhubarb buds and stalks,
warmed by the sheltered spring sun;
set my mouth to drool.
A waylaid girl child in transit.
Categories:
stubbing, childhoodspring, spring,
Form:
Free verse
Returning to Work
After the others had welcomed him back,
had shaken his hand and returned to their desks,
another as ancient pulled over his chair
to inquire of him who six months before
had been taken away
on a pallet of interlocked arms
and parallel faces:
“What happened that day?
No one would say.”
Both men talked softly,
held cigarette rites:
the delights of the tapping,
the lighting, the stubbing,
the one man explaining,
the other one listening,
both of them knowing
a matter of months.
Donal Mahoney
Categories:
stubbing, on work and working
Form:
Free verse