Chafed Poems | Examples

Animals

Animals feel love, empathy, and pain;
traits that I have noticed over the years.
Dogs have so much love, it's hard to contain
they revel in your joys, and mourn your tears:
and as your best friend, they console your fears.

I've seen my cat react when I'm depressed;
snuggling up to my face, she comforts me.
And when she senses I'm worried or stressed
she'll soulfully lay her head on my knee;
her empathy displayed for all to see.

I saw a bear, its leg chafed by a chain;
and I could almost feel its rage and fear
while folks laughed, as it glowed and roared in pain.
Its plight broke my heart, and I shed a tear:
the agony it felt was crystal clear.

Animals share the same feelings we do,
I have confirmed this through observation.
But Man has never given them their due:
starting with the story of creation,
they've been subjected to subjugation.

discoloured palette

cyan blues indigo into nighttime
darkness scorches the soul to the core
hellfire’s charcoal embers 
dissipate lightness of being
achromatic void
engulfs a self-fulfilling promise

rose petals wither by the wayside
trudged and treaded upon
flame red converts to burnt sienna
a mere shadow dances in the heat

hunter green pastels fade in exhaustion
an emerald pendant strings 
a chafed neck in a choking embrace  

mustard gold’s alchemy
folds citric sunflowers
away from its rainbow
where a pot of tar
repeats the circular path

suave mauve corrodes
into rust and necessity’s must
clusters indecision 
and meaningless desire

the prism yields prison
and yet all colours
would merge into white
when the pail becomes 
half full once again
and chakras confide
to the canvass
and the portrait of truth

hern mitts mine gushing 'bout

.

                    there'z no finer feeling
                                 save
                       hern mitt's palm's
                                sweat
                 'side mine threshing duke's
                                chafed
                                'long
                                 hern
                           cherry pick'n
                                pyknic 
                                 digits
                              entwined
                                 mine
                                 hern
                         racing     pump
                                  the
                              'side my
                                 torso

Sea Change

Its quest is over.
Life's. Wholesome-faced.
At this drop off point, a world's
Sea-washed. Effaced.

Shackled by which search, a slave's
Profitless, for coin
Proved it, toward more and more
Becoming joy-rich
Now breathing freer, will ditch
What for too long chafed
Of self deceit, to the winds.
Sharpest thought-cleansing

Shooting Birds At the Moon

Was I maudlin over our breakup? For a minute.

If I think of you now, it’s like a slideshow of unflattering images.

At the time, my breakup buddies reminded me you were a bad
choice - like a brand of deodorant that gave me a rash or fashionable shoes that chafed, even after they were stretched.

“Ruca,” my girlfriends would say, “you’re shootin-terrible, they’re a million pork-swords in the sea.”

Finally, I pulled the trigger - double-tapped us.

At first, reminders of you, those siren whispers of nostalgia, were everywhere - like the moon - which, I just had to live with.

You passed from memory though, that’s how memory works. Events fade, like last week’s chemistry test, or yesterday’s lunch.

Now, if someone asks me, “Hey, remember, what’s his name, your big love from high school?”
I say “Nope.”

I chose to laugh, dance - and shoot birds at the moon.
.
.
Slang:
breakup buddies = friends who help you get over a breakup
ruca = girlfriend
shootin terrible = on a losing streak, not doing well, making bad choices
pork-swords = come on, think about it - it’s funny.

The City

The river 
still finds its brown way
through the city's glass 
and concrete canyons
until finally reaching 
the bay. Its tidal breath
has become my own. 
I live near its mouth.

I was not born here
but have spent more 
than half my life
a citizen of its urban sprawl. 
The roots I've sunk 
hang off a sense of home. 
There is an ease
in living here where the old
and the new, the familiar
and strange exist 
in counterpoint and house
the needs of the gregarious 
and the chafed nerves
of the recluse. Cafes
serve good coffee. 

In the shadows
of apartment towers,
old men can shuffle easily
down the gentle slope 
of asphalt paths,
carrying words or a rod
and sit quietly 
at the water's edge
with their thoughts,
fishing for bream or God.

North Pole Suit

Rudolph Valentino could feel
A new woman in every reel
Santa's reindeer
Is not a steer!
A chafed nose is just a raw deal!

The Lichen

The lichen clings to his trunk 
Like she has for ages 
Holding fast, curling tight
In pale green companionship 

The oak tree smiles down at her
Craggy smile, chafed and gnarled with time 
To admire her diligence, to coexist 
At the meeting place where two form one 
 
When the rain taps in multitudes on his leaves 
When the night sweeps over like a funeral veil
When the day lifts it as a morning bride 
Still she holds him, squeezing herself to his chest

He begins to wonder, as trees sometimes do
If it is time for her to uncurl, unlatch 
For all the gifts that she provides, and he returns
Perhaps it’s time to diverge, to greet separate horizons

But a stubborn, steadfast thing she is 
And for all his hoping and itching for progress 
She holds on, past the eleventh hour
Past his need for her embrace 

And now when the wind whistles through, 
It sounds more like a wistful sigh, 
For the lichen promises and whispers 
And the fond old oak tree complies 

“Loving someone enough to let them go
doesn’t always work.” 

Saturday, January 30, 2021
For Joseph May’s contest “Fabled Musings”

Top Secret

The redwoods’ fairy ring, wall in a family secret
Only, not all roots dig as deep…
Parched, some shrivel, loosening the circlet

Shush….the tallest ones whisper steep
Elegance alas, the needy ones, have lost…
Chafed, bitter barks scatter cones they can’t keep

Raging fires sear heartwood of dearest cost
Enduring burns gape trunk-wide scars…
The remnant wall shrinks tauter, visible as vapored frost


(10/2/20: '87 Tiara 3600 Convertible; DMS)

Keep Your Hope Blazing

KEEP YOUR HOPE BLAZING

Don’t be so down 
and carry a frown.
Put a smile instead
like you are headed
to have a good time,
as you had time after time.

It is all up to you
to make it through 
in this troubled time
to feel great or fine
because life goes on,
no matter what goes on.

SO HAVE YOUR FAITH BURNING
TO KEEP YOUR HOPE BLAZING
FOR IT WILL BE ALL RIGHT
WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT.
 
Right at this moment,
it seems different.
You may feel incomplete,
chafed with all the limits.
Like life is a standstill.
You don’t know until.

Yet, you still have you. 
Yes, the incredible you.
Do the things that turn you on
or love to do to move on
to feel good and be pleased
with what you would accomplish.

SO HAVE YOUR FAITH BURNING
TO KEEP YOUR HOPE BLAZING
FOR IT WILL BE ALL RIGHT
WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT.

Adrift

How chafed the foot bereft of sole,
when unshod thoughts meet splintered floor.
Known terra firma drifts from whole, 
as reason loses sight of shore.

03 Mar 2020 
First four lines of "Unmoored - God Knows Where I Am" written 29 May 2017. Gregory R. Barden's Rithimus Divisa 2 Poetry Contest

Pecos Bill

Pecos Bill daddled and skedaddle like molasses.
Sunglasses cuddled, his badass
Stetson buffalo cowboy hat.

Lashes his airish, passive donkie Mis. Do Goglles 
as he passes, airin' the lungs. 
Sits there like that passin gasses,
at the chanting masses. 

Allers among the willows, Pecos bypasses,
poaches the stooges 
Dooie and Doodle Doodole's angelicas, n boozes.

Bested by the Sheriff, neat and straight on its feet, no actress;
a rope chafed Pecos neck at the gallows.

3/3/2020


Allers – Always
Among the Willows – Dodging the Law.
Western Slang, Lingo, and Phrases – A Writer’s Guide to the Old West
https://www.legendsofamerica.com/we-slang/#A

Sipping Cider With My Sweetheart

Sylvan surroundings of a Sanatorium 
With cold wind biting the boulevard...
In pallid rays of winter sun, I recuperated.

"Hey, I am your new nurse"...
A light blue scarf came in a tint of white.

Wow!, Wasn't she my Carolina?..
Lost ten years ago in the valley of time and distance..
I knew the honey-sweet voice.
But she never knew I loved her so much.
She chafed my feet in her anodyne touch.
Memories warmed my cold winter night.

'You'll have a hot cup of cider, alright?..

Red apples bubbled in simmering condiments.
Cinnamon, nutmegs and Cloves.
As I sipped Cider with Carolina, my sugar level arose.
 A red fire was burning the frost of winter.
A crisp tangy smell of my pureed semi-tart love.
The maple syrup with a sugary crust...
My sweetheart says," Show me where it hurts".




Dated 25th November, 2018
Submitted to the Cool Writes and Imagination Contest
Placed 10th 
Sponsor Kim Rodrigues
Also placed First in Brian Strand ' s contest

I Found Mushrooms

I Found Mushrooms
Out in the wild I found mushrooms
I'm lucky like that, as of late
I decided to give them a try
I'm not sure how many I ate

I saw a horse on a saw horse
Now how did he get up there?
I guess he could have got a boost
From that big, burly black bear!

He wore only a red top hat
A giant beast that was hairy 
I was real nervous about that
For top hats, to me are scary!

Then like a flash, I mounted the horse
Off the saw horse, he jumped down
Neither I or the horse looked back
Until we soon rode into town

I then saw I was on the saw horse
Not in town, and chilled to the bone 
My poor crotch was terribly chafed 
I'm now leaving mushrooms alone!

No Roof For Reindeer Dub Bull File

parents or other nemesis with glare
ring (smoke emitting nostrils),
     an idyll escape for this heir
to the throne of the mountain king,

     (lion share of original tract
     kept by Donald Neilson empire)
     this make believe verdant submerged lair
unwittingly left gaping hole,

     when Gambone Brothers
     industrial machinery voraciously
     made clean sweep,
     without a trace of former imp pier
     real resilient stately structured heart
     of "Glen Elm" could no longer rear

the well built “grand Etta face dame”  
     helplessly, holistically humbly
     brought to her knees 
     (gory detail aye will spare),
nonetheless more 
     than one pearl jammed shaped tear

trickled down chafed
     sad reddened cheeks,
     whose head must veer
away asper thine subsequently
     blotted out never never never land

     eclipsed by transient rubble,
     thence vinyl city (dis) graced sacred space,
no doubt a great ache,
     when Saint Nick sought
     sought in vain for
     324 Templed throne every where!

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