Best Thimbles Poems
Battle of the Sexes??
Amorphous metrosexuals haggling over who’s going to hold the bags.
Sight seeing
Never ask directions of a man standing naked in a kayak
Hick up
Whiskey never asks permission of the permissive.
So sew
Thirty-three thimbles teetered on the table top.
Knothead
He drove the nail from one side of town to the other.
John G. Lawless
12/10/2015
submitted to – One liners 6,7,8,9,10
sponsor – Bev Smith
Categories:
thimbles, humor, silly,
Form:
Monoku
we suffer the symbols
and darts of self offence
and tout them around
to prove the right or wrong
of some weak or strong
circumstance position...
signs and symbols
just intellectual thimbles
for pushing a point home
to sew and to weave
ideas together
every night
into a bedspread
of token dreams...
i put all that aside
and go to sleep
Categories:
thimbles, allusion, analogy, angst,
Form:
Free verse
'Umbrella Jim' was the sneakiest scoundrel west of the Missisip'!
Usin' the shell game and sleight of hand, of yer purse he'd gyp.
He'd set up shop 'neath an umbrella whether inside or under an oak.
Usin' three thimbles and a ball he cleaned the jeans of many a bloke!
'Umbrella Jim' was a renown huckster as well as bein' quite witty.
He'd warm up his potential victims by singin' this delightful ditty:
"A little bit of fun now and then,
Is relished by the best of men!
Select yer shell! The one you choose,
If right you win, if not, you lose!
But I'll warn ye, yer chances are mighty slim,
Of winnin' a prize from Umbrella Jim!"
'Twas his regular trade to deceive the eye with sleight of hand.
He was very adept at what he did and his every move was planned.
The fate of 'Umbrella Jim' as far as I can tell is unknown,
But I'd bet some sucker saw him hung from an oak, if truth be known!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Categories:
thimbles, humorous,
Form:
Ballad
The time was 1969, the place- Home-Economics class in junior high. While guys got sent
to “shop,” those of us of the softer sex learned culinary skills. I loved those days when the
room was filled with the sounds of our chatting, laughing and clanging pots and pans, as we
busied ourselves preparing meals before sitting down at our group tables to enjoy the fruits
of our labors. That was my first semester. In the next semester came. . . .SEWing.
Gone were the room’s former tantalizing odors. And the tables once used for sampling
our experiments in cooking had been ominously transformed. Now there were patterns
we’d been asked to buy in fabric stores pinned onto pieces of material and laid out
across the center of each table. Those forms for clothing-yet-to-be, strange maps imprinted
with vertical and horizontal lines and codes along their edges, confused and overwhelmed
me. The implements of baking - mixing bowls, pans, and the cups and spoons for
measuring - had been replaced by a much less comforting display of thread and thimbles,
sewing machines, binding tape and scissors.
With zero scintillation and after the befuddling explanations from my teacher,
I somehow ended up with a hot pink mini dress(actually wearable!) with white trim
amateurishly attached, and. . .for all my effort, the stunning grade of C.
Thankfully, in high school I discovered among a broader choice of electives, Creative Writing
Class, my time to sparkle!
For Carol Brown's "Story Time" (just one story of many that would comprise my bio)
Categories:
thimbles, education, nostalgiatime, high school,
Form:
Bio
Unfolding through the woodlands,
A carpet of bedazzled blue,
Bells summoning the fairies,
To the Springtime review.
They've come to make their magic,
To cast their seasonal spells,
The bluebell's nodding head's,
Beckons that all is well.
The fairies fill bluebell thimbles
And drink ambrosia essence,
Sitting on spotted toadstools
Beneath leaves so luminescent.
If you're walking through woodland,
Don't trample the beautiful bells,
It will bring you such bad luck
To disturb the fairies spells.
Categories:
thimbles, beautiful, blue, drink, fairy,
Form:
Quatrain
I rhyme for delight not bragging rights
don't be mad you don't match my light
claim the best I suggest practice
light yourself on fire like a book of matches
not many can match this, words so attractive
mind so active, holiest of passage
perfection poignant, I push prowess
posers prove positions powerless
outstanding outside your little boxes
squares far from fair, comparing
Wolves to foxes
only this is no contest, i just contest
how far fetched people are out of touch
from their own conscience, how grotesque
I have more to learn, opportunities now
display my heart, impunity foul
expect responses when others fall short
who can only try their least to retort
jealousy, anger, but they deny its true
If I were you, working on me is what I'd do
but thanks enough, my thought will stretch
To test claims above the rest until my death
poems for battle, love, or common sense
problem is I am sure it's as far as it gets
so stay deep like puddles, or thimbles
life can get complicated, why not keep it simple?
cheesey like pizza, or green bay's symbol
amounts of effort put in couldn't fill dimples
as long as you feel good about whats been said
be amazing as you want, all in your head
Categories:
thimbles, hip hop, humor, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Artfully arranged articles:
Books beside bedding,
Clocks, camera, china cups clinking,
Dishes, decanters, dining damask,
Electronics
Facing ferns,
Gardening gear. Gaudy
Handwoven hats hide
Inkstained
Jute. Junk jewelry,
Kitchenware, kite kits,
Linens laying lopsided.
Marbles, magazines, menswear,
Nice needlework, necklaces,
Ornaments,
Pots, pans, pretty plants put parallel.
Quality quite
Reasonable. Rickrack, ribbons,
Sewing sack spilling
Thread, thimbles. Toys
Underneath umbrellas.
Video variety
Waiting watchers.
Xylophone
Yields
Zing.
Categories:
thimbles, places
Form:
ABC
Salty glass eyes,
Thimbles brimming
with summer-leaf green poison
stare back at me.
A stare chilled subzero.
I, of course, imagine this stare
is a defense mechanism to hide her troubles.
I imagine a glimmer of light
that luminates from her bust.
This is the sliver of false hope
I allow to stay under my skin,
till it should infect my blood;
and drain me,
turn my skin to paste.
I must banish this harpy on my own.
I crave nicotine;
the soothing sickness,
greater than a mother's love;
to watch my irridiant clouds
form an immaculate wart in space;
feel the grip
of the nails in my back loosen,
and the fingers that clench me
melt, drip off me,
vaporize as the drips hit the floor.
I crave Adderall,
my favorite legal amphetamine;
I want to feel the particles
as they crush under my spoon;
my blood jets through my body.
My body jtters like electroshock aftermath.
I want to feel the smooth powder
as I draw it up my nose,
and it slithers down my throat.
Oh, sharpness; Oh, clarity of mind.
I'm more sociable;
maybe I'll meet someone new.
No matter;
she could love my best friend,
and I'll love them both tonight.
I come down;
questions of life and its worth engorge me.
My heart cramps.
My inner child leaves
to play with someone better.
I decide I'm worthless and should die;
but, I've not the guts to do it.
I crave heroin.
Snorted it before,
but that's not enough.
I want my man to tie a belt
around my bicep, pull it tight,
watch the veins pop from my forarm;
so eager they are.
Drain-up a near lethal dose.
Metal dips under flesh,
penetrates my bloodstream.
A ferocious ******
circulates through my system.
I no longer care if she cares or not.
I care not if I die;
at least it'll be in peace.
The bombs drop
The rockets exchange.
Self-induced extinction,
and my mind is smooth.
Seems she had good reason;
though, I will miss he raven hair,
the way it swayed over me,
how soft it felt when i held it in my fist.
I will miss her strong thighs,
how they felt wrapped around me;
how her perfect chest felt against mine.
I suppose an extra meal,
a chocolate chip cookie, or two,
and a caffine buzz,
followed by a handful of Melatonin
will have to do.
Categories:
thimbles, care, care, love,
Form:
Free verse
Solely self inflicted
Jury Judged Convicted
On them I've fed
Salty years I've bled
A society in form, though not in norm
Their eyes rake as headless mouths intake
A knotted pine snake heedless to participate,
I am in the middle of a thirst that slaked so little...
I freaked when steel teeth gleamed brittle solutions;
A fistful of retribution means bitter restitution.
Oh Give me the civic salivation,
In this petri dish of a nation!
Drench in cream, stir in oil, I will never eat that!
With blow hards and carbs, and ministries of garbs;
You're not wolf, you're wolfs dying breath contained.
As bloody sheets and gray streets bleed blood into shame,
Where monkey thimbles play rat -a -tat – tat on your heart...
And mind games are healthy missteps into tripped up reality,
While hat tricks plagues a story played by mindless pricks
And lightening strikes thrice on thunder driven carrion.
Touche.
Categories:
thimbles, allegory, angst, passion, political,
Form:
Heroic Couplet
Bygone days
Climbing trees
Paper boats
Scabby knees
Duffle coats
Pick n mix
Runny nose
Thrupenny bits
Scruffy clothes
Flying kites
Desperate Dan
Conquer fights
Tins of spam
Spots n pimples
Teachers cane
Hunting thimbles
Bronco lane
Skimming stones
Hopscotch
Nit combs
Chicken pox
Kicking cans
Running wild
Building dams
Fifties child
Categories:
thimbles, childhood,
Form:
Rhyme
Thimbles of time
Surreal or sublime
Shadows of mind
Categories:
thimbles, imagination
Form:
Grandma’s craft cottage was a magical place.
A room with thimbles, embroidery, beads, bits of lace.
Multifarious fat quarters were folded into neat little squares
There was always a hot iron close at hand.
We cousins loved stopping in to listen to a story.
Or tell one of our own, watching Granny’s nimble fingers create magic.
This was our haven, our heart, the epitome of our safe place.
Even though Grandma was gone now, her legacy remained.
Each one of us came by to tell Grandma how much we loved her.
For we felt her presence in this craft cottage
More than any other place we had been that day.
The church had given us no such comfort.
Categories:
thimbles, death,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Jesus Torment - The Villanelle Of The Bible--
Jesus couldn't stop thinking about the bible
It was just so dear and energetic
Never had he known anything so royal
That morning, Jesus was shocked by the thimbles
He found himself feeling rather synthetic
Jesus couldn't stop thinking about the bible
Later, he realized that the bible was antibacterial
He thought the situation had become rather theistic
Never had he known anything so royal
Paul tried to distract him with a libel
Said his mind had become too peripatetic
Jesus couldn't stop thinking about the bible
Jesus took action like a scheible
The bible was becoming too genetic
Never had he known anything so royal
Jesus nosedived like a imperfect human
His mind became dangerously arithmetic
Jesus couldn't stop thinking about the bible
Never had he known anything so non royal
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.2019©
Categories:
thimbles, anxiety, assonance,
Form:
Villanelle
Silt collects at the outreaches of an ancient, murky marsh.
Twisted tendrils of white oleander form archaic symbols.
Deviant rituals, cocooned and lost eons ago, lie awash—
Taken to the surface, unleashed by a cacophony of demonic cymbals.
Now, time suddenly stops by this grotesque swash.
War is waged, and humanity becomes a mere memento, just a collection of broken trinkets in otherworldly drawers, like lost thimbles.
Categories:
thimbles, dark, gothic, metaphor, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
The Ballerina
Exterior, jagged and mystic
Short body, muscular physique
Reddish brown nappy hair
Shading deep brown eyes
from the sun’s glare
Earrings in her nose
Rings on her toes
Pricks on her fingers
From the sewing thimbles
Walking through the crisp leaves
Small body hidden by the trees
Studies heavy on the mind
Many more stairs to climb
Finally reaching the peak
Tired arms and brick feet
Find life and movement in the move
In the groove
of the ballerina
Leaping and flying across the stage
Posing gracefully in a flower like stance
Shifting her head in a sideways glance
jete, jete, tilt, tilt
Floating through the air like a fluttering feather
A piourette, a leap, arms gracefully waving,
Leaping, jete, piourette, tilting,
Only a ballerina would dare
To move feather like through the air
Categories:
thimbles, art,
Form: