Best Thin Skinned Poems
Brighter than a fall bonfire but with the chill of ice,
the winter sun haloes a gray and barren woodland;
throbbing, almost hesitant, with a florescent pulse,
brazen in its unrelenting descent, it clings to the horizon.
How it hurt my eyes.
Thin skinned, the lids tinge orange, the white of sol’s merging.
Trunks, boughs, branches, twigs, welt the dusk,
rouging the line between, blooding the virgin night.
Pricked, the brain pulses in tune, unable to look away.
How it hurt my mind.
Splayed fingers do not block the sharpened spears of screaming light.
The winter sun, indexed, and palmed, scratches the face of I.
Within a dakened room beneath a pall, behind hides blue veins,
near comatose, I sigh, the light, the light, until shades and stars arrive.
How life and death both hurt.
First Published in Dual Coast Magazine Issue 1 2014
Categories:
thin skinned, pain,
Form:
Free verse
Splatter painted, Pollock blessed, leggy I stand,
among the green grass and healing Plantain
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.
A walking canvas in the meadowland
stems, humorously stippled to entertain
splatter painted, Pollock blessed; leggy I stand.
Blush brushed by daylight, a cheeky garland;
a stand bloomed within thin skinned constraints
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.
Pistils between petals unknown unplanned,
joyous the sound of honey bees restrained,
splatter painted, Pollock blessed; leggy I stand.
A plantigrade intrusion, a new brand
surface mounted digits adorned prearranged
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.
So bright the upright parts, so very grand
one can but dream the crown gloriously manned
splatter painted, Pollock blessed; leggy I stand
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.
Mused: Bella online Literary Review Winter 2015
Categories:
thin skinned, allegory, art, childhood,
Form:
Terzanelle
It's a melodrama. Try to picture the drama queen
A bit actress lying on the floor in her final scene
Her lips trembling, tears running down her face
ruining her makeup in a gown of satin and lace
You won't win any Oscars, Honey. Not this time
Take lessons, hon. You can't act worth a dime
She's quick to blame everyone, but not herself
She claims innocence, but she's an imp, an elf
She's been insulted, but that's a falsified claim
Seriously, is she for real, or is warring her game?
No one has called her cruel names, not one of us
She's just a sad soul to have created such a fuss
Some poets are thin-skinned and misunderstand
that comments made are not given as a reprimand
But lo and behold... she sure came out swinging
like a bat out of hell with her accusations slinging
So lady poet, try and get a good grip on your life
No one is out to get you or cause you bitter strife
No one has rattled your cage or crushed your soul
and no one is bullying you with the acts of a troll
Your mean-spirited diatribes should reach an end
Maybe then you'll feel better; able to comprehend
You keep blowing a whistle without a good reason
and you've made yourself a victim of poetic treason
I'm wondering why you think your views are fine
and I should not be allowed to give voice to mine.
I didn't call you ugly names, neither of us did that
so stop clawing at us like some hissy spitting cat
It haunts you like shadows inside your imagination
So let it go and stop the outlandish discrimination
Don't you see that the delusions inside your head
are figments in your mind; things that you dread?
Categories:
thin skinned, introspection,
Form:
Rhyme
Help
Suicide
Have you eaten all the numbers?
One through six steps,
But there's always number amber...
They don't tell you about the flower petals falling;
Like shaved off finger prints so you could loose your identity,
All from closed eye lips that talk kisses and caress while re-opening wounds.
They don't tell you about the feeling;
'Cause they can't explain...
How do you describe an open mouth kissed?
Tongues twisting warm as they sweat from embrace,
Lips feeling pale, for neither has taken a breath,
Both staying connected through that thin skinned touch;
Under, blood flowing currents; that's how they blush.
All cowering down to a simple word:
Hush
Help
I'm not ready
For your kiss that wrote:
Love
Categories:
thin skinned, allegory, love
Form:
Free verse
a small child
crouches
quiet
eyes taken
curious sight
brow creases
in question
it a new thing
these pink shapes
on earthy brown
face
fingers
backs of hands
throat
breasts
half covered
the same
familiar
patterned dress
she child
soft traces
them
on toes
tops of feet
calves
where flame's flowers
seared skin
pink thin
knees
knelt down
in plea
in prayer
kept brown
strange
new tattoos
alien
yet not unearthly
she
small
prods
lashless lids
pats
proud cheekbones
insistent
bows her head
dark hair
falls forward
silk waterfalls
stir shadows'
flit
over
sleeping face
eyes open
wide
fear drains
colour
then
warm
deep brown
they glow
for her
knowingly
Posted: 12-12-2018.
NOTE: No to Xenophobia.
Categories:
thin skinned, child, community, humanity,
Form:
Alliteration
MOUNTAIN SCENE
In a distant cleft
Inaccessible
In that shadow region
Too steep
Even for mountain sheep
That’s where I now mentally wonder
Where I wander
Deep beneath the glacial flow
Where many an age ago
Some thin-skinned tropic beast
Perished in the slow advancing snow
Now the sculpted peaks surround
Like tomb markers that sky
Overlie that time so long gone by
And the valley copse of shrubbery
The boulders from one of which I spy
This awesome grandeur
Blithely push and weigh
A virgin landscape’s hopeful, bright new day
Categories:
thin skinned, nature,
Form:
Free verse
My Favorite Things comes to mind...
a random assortment, a jumble of words
a quotient of portions, quotidian served
quixotic strivings of the great deca-dense
obscured in meaning, eschewing all sense
visions and nightmares and hallucinations
erudite arguments, odd fascinations
old geezers fondling memories of things
most folk would not to mixed company bring
inchoate ramblings of damaged young minds
bubbled through water and cardboard box wine
audible groans from the web server host
these are the ones make me giggle the most
shouting in vacuums, a riotous void
pontificating, or mildly annoyed
grieving, believing, or weaving a string
virtuous outburst that don’t do a thing
rants about orange man and all his mean tweets
and, yes, “Let’s go, Brandon” to make things complete
guns, poo, abortion, yes, all are discussed
sometimes the thin-skinned bail out in disgust
side by side, posting, the sage and the fool
the wise in their youth and those starting to drool
bleeping our excrement down on the page
somehow it all seems to soften the rage
when the bard shouts
when the muse screams
‘bout covid or Vlad
we’re at a computer
with just poo to fling
and that makes me laugh a tad
Categories:
thin skinned, humorous, parody,
Form:
Rhyme
Sitting on the shelf like a broken teacup
I go on despite these difficult moments
I run into myself with Irish green eyes and permanent tear stained cheeks
I've endured the immensity of agony
I’ve turned down all those so-called hot lovers sulking in this harsh yellow land
I wrestle with the ongoing struggles of this evil world
No…nobody can go backwards
You see, you and I were never meant to be
So...don't tell me your hurt is my fault
I’ve assessed these holes in my life-have you assessed yours?
It was a lifetime ago…forever gone in all that I was
In a curious way I’ve known the debris of myself ...
I’m more damaged than I care to admit
Here I am…pathetically sitting in the rubble of where my heart lives
A thin-skinned loner- a re-cycled me of who I used to be
I can't waver yet again, to take another chance at love
I've known too much time away from it all
So evident in the moment of my blinding conscience
Pondering the un-gentleness of things
That should have been beautiful...but were not
And so, I pick up the pieces of my broken soul
From a broken love that was never meant to be
I'm in for a new change of lifestyle - a new change of heart
A release of all those emotions that were tearing me down
The old life I knew, I threw away with the teacup
I got a new life, a new cup, and I'm forgetting you and the past
Categories:
thin skinned, allegory, angst, husband, recovery
Form:
Free verse
The day is dull, almost
shadowless. I am alone; shadow
would have given me comfort.
Pages of ancient tomes,
full of must, call me;
there is always comfort here.
I light lamps
damning the florescent pall.
When bathed in the flicker
florescent lit walls become
blue-tinged harbingers of death.
I worship beneath the
shadow-casting gold of incandescence.
The 300-watt glow of my love-gifted
torchiere soothes me.
I place thin-skinned cheek on
chill of plaster wall, wishing to submerge
myself in shadow, but I do not succumb.
Ah, the page that calls, the keys which click
when pen has gone unfound, are all I have.
Why leave, my heart cries out,
there is only the cold of the grave,
none to mourn your passing.
Only the sterile page,
the plaster walls, the shadowed-stage?
No, I argue with my weary self,
put aside this Keats-like gloom
poverty and tombs, and rise!
The sun will shine at winter's end
to daffodils.
First Published Inwood Indiana February 2014
Categories:
thin skinned, loneliness, daffodils,
Form:
Free verse
Governor Brewer From Arizona
(song parody based on “Girl From Impanema”)
Short, tanned, governor of A-Z
Wagged finger at the commander-and-chief
That was so tasteless
And very racist
So odd!
Brewer dissed Barack Obama
And said Obama was threatening
Guards should have grabbed her
And teach her manners
By far!
Oh – is he really so thin-skinned?
Oh – don’t she know he’s a gangster?
He – killed Bin Laden with SEAL teams
Then he rescued folks from Somalis
He likes guns and diplomacy
Short, tanned, governor of A-Z
Racial profiling is so ungodly
Tell me what happens
In time
To economies
And brown folks don’t leech
And brown folks don’t leech
Categories:
thin skinned, america, humor, irony, music,
Form:
Lyric
Dogs dogmatically guard the home
Sounding the alarm with a growling bark
As owners are alerted to the threat
Miscreants flee into the dark
Cats are categorically useful too
Their mouse-tracking skills renowned
When a feline is prowling on patrol
Rodents scurry underground
But rabbits are a tougher sell
Their herbivore hunting skills quite moot
Unable to save the day or keep vermin at bay
They mostly sit there looking cute
Rabbits are thin-skinned as well
There's one faux pas you must not commit
Please do not call them rodents
Order Lagomorpha is where they fit
Why then do we delight in ours
The doe we call simply “Bunny” ?
It's cuz her antics provide comic relief
When she yawns it looks so funny
Bunny blithely flips her little plate
A curt review of pet shop food
She’s holding out for blueberries or kale
Depending on her mood
Baby carrots and parsley sprigs
Make for a tasty Bunny lunch
She regales us with her table talk:
Munchity, crunchity, crunch
After a hard day’s work, I come home
To my gray-and-white-furred friend
She’ll run to be picked up and petted
And my stresses are at an end
Yes, Bunny is priceless to us
And she certainly earns her keep
Familial duties done for the day
On a little throw pillow she falls asleep
_______________________________
for contest: Furry Friend
Sponsored by: Royal T
Categories:
thin skinned, animal, family, pets, tribute,
Form:
Rhyme
Brighter than a fall bonfire, but with the chill of ice,
the Winter sun haloes the gray and barren woodland,
throbbing, almost hesitant, with a fluorescent pulse,
brazen in its unrelenting descent, it clings--
to the horizon.
How it hurt my eyes.
Thin skinned, the lids tinge orange, the white of sol merging:
trunks, boughs, branches, twigs, welt the dusk--
rouging the line between, blooding the virgin night.
Pricked, the brain pulses in tune, unable to look away.
How it hurt my mind.
Splayed fingers block, the sharpened spears of screaming fright.
The Winter sun, indexed, palmed, scratches, the face of I.
Within a lightless room a pall hides blue veins, near comatose,
brazen: the light, the light-- I sigh, until shades and stars arrive.
How life and death both hurt.
art by JulieG350
First Published by Dual Coast Magazine Issue 1 - 2014
Categories:
thin skinned, pain,
Form:
Free verse
My Thoughts On Cancel Culture
Written: by Miracle Man
November 1, 2021
Cancel culture is stealing our freedom of speech,
when we disagree, practitioners will impeach.
We can express an opinion only if it agrees,
but canceled out by our refusal to appease.
Someone’s always offended by something we say,
is it really the speech or socialist way?
Perhaps its a logo that has caused our affright,
disagreements, then become, social media fights.
Daily I'm offended by something in my sight,
but I quickly remember that they too have a right.
We appear set in our ways refusing to bend,
I think the main reason, is we're just too thin skinned.
Categories:
thin skinned, how i feel,
Form:
Rhyme
Tough skinned -strong, take it and dish it out.
Thin skinned - overly sensitive.
Skin of our teeth -
struggle for life, survival.
Skin defines and designs us,
the skin we’re in, through pain, color issues, death and life.
Skin-If skin could talk.
Fascinating story.
Not just color of skin but skin which is our body fabric, the material that wraps our
soul and our innermost parts silky, splashed with water, warmth, cologne, love
and labor-skin.
yes john heck this is prose but...the skin I'm in Part One
Touch comes through skin and touch informs us of so much. The way people
touch us tells us if they are comfortable with us and with themselves.
It can be hostile, strident touch; rough, accusatory, disciplining, invasive or it can
be sensual, exciting, invigorating, accepting, encouraging, loving, comforting.
Skin Talk
too frequent breakouts, rashes, allergies, sores, impetigo, suffered
embarrassment, pain and shame. Scars! Coco butter for every nick and scrape.
But my black knees and those scars embarrassing in
swimsuits or shorts
legs were scarred with black spots.
Marvin Taylor called me leopard legs in fifth grade and fifty years later,
I remember the sting, shame and pain of it.
Campaigned against my scarred legs with scrubs and other potions until the
spots began to fade and a sense of perspective...
skin challenges, burns, rapid tissue growth that should disfigure -yet the
elephant man walks with dignity and grace in his could be monster face
severe acne in the face, severe psoriasis and yet their character and ways of
dealing with these problems determine their real image, reflection and persona
life is a gift that can not be determined by black spots on legs.
Categories:
thin skinned, black african american, health,
Form:
Narrative
between new nightmares
and day dreams
of a better life
lay reality resurfaced
tight with taut brutality
unspeakable thoughts drift
down through time's flash
triggered not there
not then
but now and here
her mind digs through fear
as she sinks
slight form down
crisp skirt's rustle sound
folds with her
to ground
and she says to herself
I will lay here
in this hollow
it fits the curve of my spine
holds the shape
of my hips
and the grass padded earth
cups itself a little
around my waist
hugs me
till I sleep
I am still alive
I am dead
to the world
tar roads
pavements
are too hard
concrete
cannot hold me
the same way
they resist my shape
press flatness
hard
against me
leave me sore
unrested
complaints unheard
where may I sleep
With fragrance
of grass and earth
maybe
in a garden
a cultured space
thoughts arouse
aroma once known
from those past
yet still present
places
so pleasant
maybe then
I will fall into dreams
of painless light
sunshine will soothe
I will feel bright
flame red flowers
in free fall
Will not burn
as they engulf me
float from arms
branches
blue sky stretched
they will caress me
in potpourri perfume
memories mock
her senses
she yearns to block
their burn
when I sleep
I'll not smell
petrol fumes
flared up
I will not hear
the shudder of bodies
breaking down the door
I will forget
the screams
eardrums pierced
my own
I will not feel
my body burn
in hell hound fire
twisted hatred
from ordinary mothers
fathers sisters sons
bizarre beliefs
turned my skin
from brown silk smooth
to outlandish patches
pink and brown
how will I
become
familiar
with who I am
now
she falls asleep
dreams
of sunshine
tree shadow dappled
nature cradles her
in dark and light
she breathes low
drum sounds
bring her back
there
next to eyes
awakening
her fingers
delicate drummers
play the earth
With firm tips
tap tapping
a well known song
her long gone
mother's lullaby
hush my child
hush now
don't cry
sleep sweet
against my heart
hush now
hear the beats
of my love
for you
hush now
so angels
do not sigh
hum drum
hum drum
hum drum
she starts to cry
Posted:15-12-2018
Note: "Sister" poem to "thin skinned"
Categories:
thin skinned, conflict, courage, dark, hope,
Form:
Alliteration