Mr Dromedary
Looked so forlorn today.
He tried to fathom out
Why he was being sent away.
A magnitude of questions
Stormed around his anxious head.
Is it my wonky gait?
Is it something I've done or said?
Is it because my regurgitated
Cud could fill a barrel?
Are my eyelashes too long?
Is it my shaggy apparel?
So many fears and insecurities
Occupied this camel.
He even contemplated
His unflossed enamel!
His severe lack of confidence
Kept his Dulla small.
Is this why the girls don't
Gel with me during mating call?
Had he strayed too many times
From the leadings of the boss?
He was in a quandary.
He was truly at a loss.
And all it boiled down to
Was another wildlife resort
Needed Mr Dromedary
To expand his sort.
With features pterodactyline
and scales that gave a greenish sheen,
she swooped down from above,
thinking, she, of love.
Below, a mousy proto-mammal,
teeth chattering away enamel,
didn't have a chance,
and had to change his pants.
Black lashes
blown off of a fingerpad that throbs
in tandem with an overharvested eyelid
flit to the floor—
wasted wishes
manufacted in mockery of dandelion's dance.
Keratin cracks
beneath the pressure of enamel,
exposing weak, watery skin
on trembling fingertips—
nervous nibbles
evolved into voracious, cannibalistic cravings.
Though hope
fractures under the weight of repugnant gazes
and my unsightly nubs grasp blindly for pigments to suppress
these habitual shames—
flesh forgives
more than the self, and, like a forest after a fire, it grows back.
It always grows back.
I have walked the hallways
where minutes gnash like teeth,
each second a pebble pressed
into the jaw of memory.
The air tastes of iron--
memory’s rust,
old prayers swallowed
before they ever touched the light
Yet still - I carry my candle
into the jaw’s dark cavern,
its flame a soft rebellion
against the grindstone silence.
Soft laughter rests in the cracks,
like seeds grabbed
into the frozen earth,
waiting for the frost to release them,
for spring to rise
from winter’s quiet.
I move onward,
not a hostage,
but marrow unbroken,
a hymn rising
through bone and enamel,
singing until the jaw
yields to the light.
If I gave up sugar
would I crave more salt?
Filling up my diet with potato chips and French fries?
If I gave up sugar
would the enamel grow back on my teeth
Would my missing teeth grow back?
If I gave up sugar
would I lose weight and feel healthy?
Would I still be me?
I daresay I will never know
tooth
jagged, canine
aching, decaying, eating
denture, enamel, manicure, claw
grabbing, clenching, filing,
etched, pinpoint
nail
Drifting face across fulfilled lives, how many lies do I see inside?
I see without visual, drowning in endeavours.
I hear within silence, the blinding numbness adhere to my veins.
The silence enriches my absent thoughts, swallowing me whole into the jaws of fate.
What’s holding me captive in this divine existence? The monotony of being etching away my compounding resolve.
Saturated with doubt, with guilt and remorse. A futile endeavour to attempt release from the clutches of madness.
Altering ley lines to divert my path, digesting the inedible and finding purpose within.
Disturbances not overcome but overgrown with enamel concealing the ugliness left behind.
The path forward we travel, onward we look. Hereby is the contingence to survive. Survival is key, survival is free, survival is not where I want to be.
I began playing this game with myself
So at any moment you are holding something
How would you kill an intruder
I mean some of them are obvious
Throw the tea then use the cups like enamel
knuckle dusters
Deodorant like a spray
Handy flame thrower if you have a lighter in your hand
Toothpaste takes some thought but if you can squeeze it onto your hands and go for the eyes
Hairdryer and plug
Like a pair of Noon
Chucking blades as I charge towards them
Sometimes good to share
Pen would get the wickedness treatment
Spooning eyes out on stalks
Balloons depends on what they are filled with
Tell them
I will
Not one psychopath in here
There is definitely more than
Took me eons to work out
Mainly tricks in may
A brill
I ant ain’t an auntie
Started working on scenarios on stairs in water
Has anyone ever been xylophoned to death
Some still now
remember when
years ago
it there stood
red enamel
with handles of chrome
a polished top
of finest wood
with drawers so large
with tools filled
most carefully cleaned
and put away
wrenches of chrome
both tiny and large
some modified
for particular jobs
and bars of brass
most carefully shaped
that they did use
in most curious ways
and how they did tell
tales of old
in jobs they done
over so many years
but now it’s gone
just memories remain
of the red toolbox
now they’re gone away
I can feel my tendons contort
The sickening crunch of bones breakage
The skin across my face pulling to a snout
My lips ripping apart as razored enamel
adorns a snap
Can’t stand
Beneath me legs bevel lowering me earthward
I can taste it’s iron on the back of my tongue
My stomach grimaces in tongues of twisters
Left need so far back
My ears ripping into points
Every rustle edible on the nights hum
My screams no longer have a trace of humanity
Snarling spits and swirls of froth
Just highlights in the slit eyed shape I must become
No healthy oils
but beef dripping kept
solid in a white enamel
can with a lid
in a cupboard under
the oven. Reused until
too dark and heavy
with sediments,
the dregs flavored
the best chips.
Mothers carried
the war year's frugal habits
into the fifties and so
it was with mine.
My Mum could make
a feast out of almost nothing
and gave little
to the bin.
There was an observed
formality for meals,
all of us had to sit
at the table, elbows
at the side and recite
the customary grace.
No getting up until excused,
no talking with your mouth
full, no reaching across
someone else's plate,
every request had to be
prefaced or end
with a ‘please’.
Something of the sacred
gave dignity to the rituals
of preparation
and consumption of food.
It wore the presence
of a gift. Not sure if today's
abundance is better
or worse - no matter -
as we eat whatever
and whenever in haste,
plugged in and sedated
by a mind-numbing choice,
our progress is measured
in waste.
Dentist appointments cause me to linger,
Someplace betwixt dread and the blackness,
Fright’s version of despair,
Wistful and aching with silent prayers,
Silent, silence, soundless – still,
All the reasons, the responses, the requisites,
For those hours, endless times
Spent, losing my mind,
With mouth opened to oblige
Fingers pressed against my gums,
Forcing the enemy’s needles,
Taste of lidocaine, breathing in and out,
Through expanded nostrils,
Urgent moments, flooded with apprehension,
Distracted by the metal instruments,
Dreadful apparatuses,
Some intended to scrap at my enamel,
Pick at my fangs,
Some meant to dislodge roots,
Extract a tooth, - a part of me,
A portion of my flesh, my body,
Buried deep in my gums,
Where silent forces sing of dark horrors,
Will this dentist ever finish?
It seems like I’ve been in this chair for hours,
Looking at my watch….
Can it have only been five minutes!?!
often
called limning
vitreous enamel
painted on copper
or ivory
opaque,
& gold
to heighten effect
of
ingenious illusion
in
soft focus
images-
society's
face
in
detail-
stubble
warts an'all
I am a little bit of a trickster
It has to be said
A wee bit mischievous
Somewhat bonkers in the head
Friends came to stay the night
So l played a cheeky joke
Showed them to their room
Explained all for when they woke
I mentioned if they needed the loo
In the middle of the night
No need to stumble in the dark
We do this and its works a delight
I bent down and pulled out from under their bed
An vintage enamel handled pee-pot….full of wee
Initial awkward horror followed by hysterical laughter
As it was a pee pot full of apple juice you see!
Sometimes healing is messy
It is a rollercoaster
Ups and downs
Sometimes I can handle it
Other times I lose control
I say I am in recovery for my bulimia
But I still struggle
I still consider pushing myself that extra hour in the gym
I think skipping lunch that day won't hurt
I sometimes spend too much time looking at teeth enamel strengthening toothpaste and whitening strips
I only look at healthy snack like plain rice cakes and original sun chips
Carboard is not the most appealing flavor
But it is the safest one
I don't have to feel guilty when I eat them
I won't need to punish my body later
Some days though
I will eat the birthday cake and not worry about it later
I will still go to the gym but only spend 30 minute there not 2 hours
I brush my teeth not worrying about if i will cause any damage to them from a purge
Healing is messy
Somedays are easier than others
But I know that I am trying my hardest.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.