Extremities Poems | Examples

GRIEF-STRICKEN

In life’s lowest moments, it is challenging to gather the strength to rise again.
The hurt and pain decapitate your reasoning. Your functions and extremities are paralyzed, it's like falling into an endless pit. Nothing in life matters in that moment, even the wind on your face exacerbates your grief and agony. 
 
In that moment in time, there is nothing to look forward to or to live for, and you feel like you're trapped in that timeline forever.

The hardest thing to do is to take that first step. To know in your heart that you deserve to move toward the light and heal and go through your metamorphosis, and to embrace your reality. That is true strength from within. To transform and evolve and to become a new and better version of yourself.

bon apetit

“taste” …

she whispered
making sure the “s” lingered on her
tongue like syrup …
I needed no instruction,
but her plea was proper music, nonetheless
prelude to pleasurable murmurings from
both our gullets,
though I put the vibrations of my low,
rumbling moan to good use
(as any obsequious scoundrel should)
her squeaky sigh wrapping
my core like a vine,
saturating my extremities …
another whisper - “tell me … pleeease”
I knew exactly what
and she knew I couldn’t speak,
my mouth being otherwise engaged,
so I sounded the syllables
letting them rumble slowly … again
and that …
brought the bloom -
both her hands weaving their way
through my hair
pulling me tightly to her
holding …
crying out -
the sounds of bliss that I lived to hear
the sultry song that slayed me …
and I?
an enormous smile on my face that
she couldn’t see, of course
but I think, perhaps,
she could tell …

all the same.

A Season of Lovers

The scent of wood smoke in the chilly wind
 almost brings the remembrance of warmth.
My extremities no longer feel the bite of Icy air, 
numb, asleep, even as the fire in my belly burns. 

Each season has its way of touching your senses,
 like past lovers, so different but still familiar. 
Spring is energetic romping and first time surprises. 
The lazy caress of summer leaves you spent and aching. The playfulness of autumn tickles and chases and laughs. 

But winter,  winter is frantic and bitter, dramatic highs and lows. The quivering, shivering, shattering cold of a turned back, and the melting comfort of embraces. 

Each snowflake is frozen joy, bursting out from drops of water, and freezing. 
Turn your face to the sky and taste the joy on your tongue! 
There is something miraculous 
and magical about 
walking on water.

Tell me why not you

TELL ME WHY NOT YOU

It has always been you
Looking into your eyes 
I wonder what good I did in my past life
Tell me why not you

You embody perfection in your imperfection
I see 
Nature must have had a hand in our connection
Tell me why not you

I feel a surge of happiness
Me with you is a powerful force
Standing against the extremities of the world

You question “why me”
With a smile that lights my face
Staring into the eyes that drowns me in love
I ask, why not you?

Baby, there is your answer.

Horrible Things about Horn Thoughts

Men, especially male men are macho,
weirdos always less concerned and
thoughtful then women are. Take a look.
 happens and rolls downhill.
So what! Who cares! Could care less!
What the hell. Not my fault. Had nothing
to do with it. There is nothing I can
do about it. Have been same all
of their lives and will never change.
Shortcomings exceed their attributes.
Dangling chads. Key pinch cards.
Full time job trying to be kind,
courteous thoughtful and sincere. 
Chop off problem and throw away
like extremities in Civil War. Pile
becomes higher and higher.
Go to church, listen to what God has
to say and then go home and apply it.
That is the Trinity I know in my mind.
Migration is a problem that exists.
It has already happened so what
are you going to do about not condemning,
criticizing and complaining about it.
No action. No reaction or results.
Do nothing and nothing will happen.
You can listen but do not have to
do anything about it. Your choice.
God set standards for you to follow.
Never follow and suffer consequences.
Who cares what you think about problem.
What are you going to do to solve it.

FINE ICE

My heart is freezing cold
Like the fine ice of Antarctica
For I've uncovered the secret to life:  
Live today for today—tomorrow will tend to itself.  

I've felt the cold sting of expectation
Even sorrow knows my affirmations
Reciting them backward, from end to start
For I can't separate living from death. 

Yet like the Penguins of Antarctica
I've relied on fearlessness to endure
To keep the cold and pain at bay
As I navigate life, day by day.  

I've reduced my extremities
To make more room for warmth within
Traded fleeting pleasures for more
And freed myself from the weight of unnecessary thoughts.

Doing Right by Me

The fire in my heart is ignited by the sparks of your charm 
I love the serene atmosphere of your calm
Your smile, sincere
Your personality, revered  

Pure intentions  rents free in your eyes 
Your heartbeat, speaks affection 
I am immersed in the extremities of your attention  

Do i break these walls of Jericho for your triumph?
But yet my mind remains parallel to the heart 
Reminisces of that one bullet, that left a mark

Do i make haven or take flight?
Either way, will i be doing right by me?.

bon appetit -

“taste” …

she whispered
making sure the “s” lingered on her
tongue like syrup …
I needed no instruction,
but her plea was proper music, nonetheless
prelude to pleasurable murmurings from
both our gullets,
though I put the vibrations of my low,
rumbling moan to good use
(as any obsequious scoundrel should)
her squeaky sigh wrapping
my core like a vine,
saturating my extremities …
another whisper - “tell me … pleeease”
I knew exactly what
and she knew I couldn’t speak,
my mouth being otherwise engaged,
so I sounded the syllables
letting them rumble slowly … again
and that …
brought the bloom -
both her hands weaving their way
through my hair
pulling me tightly to her
holding …
crying out -
the sounds of bliss that I lived to hear
the sultry song that slayed me …
and I?
an enormous smile on my face that
she couldn’t see, of course
but I think, perhaps,
she could tell …

all the same.

March

First buds emerge in velvet cocoons
As dank, dark mornings transform
Into frost clad, bright, clean-aired dawns. 
Grass laden heavy with dew, 
Nectar of nature to sustain awakening creatures. 
From deepest winter slumbers, 
To drink deep the anticipation held in each drop. 
Static in the air, in our hair, as crunched grasses
Make way for warming days, milky moons,
And pearlescent sun shards melting
The cold of winter soil. 
Grass, long since recoiled after long summer
Parching, burnt and bruised,
Now tender and sweet, shoots pushing
Up through the loamy layers of frost bitten ground. 
The scents of spring, almost imperceptible 
Yet nonetheless I feel them set my belly to flight 
The excitement for some unknown event, 
As though a celebratory feast,
Honoured to be invited to.  
Tingling in extremities, no longer from cold
But now in joy, in pleasure, 
In the fruitfulness we know to come to pass, 
When spring finally announces her arrival 
Once more.

Discombobulation

Written: January 25, 2024
            _______________________________________

Time eludes us as a cryptic puzzle.
This is our opportunity to seize it. 
Spaces have a distinct sequence.
We must sustain our life pattern.
Shaken extremities.
It is scarce to start a fire with obsidian.
Still, it's worth lingering in the night.

Murmuring shards from an aloof past.
highlighted the impact 
of our says a few weeks ago. 
and the deep impact it can wield. 
Yet, we must aim to define our souls 
Let your voice billow amid a pool of views. 
 thence, it's crucial to stay vigilant.
even when progress is slow.

Life seems a scary puzzle conundrum.
But we must never lose our goals. 
It may appear such a mundane day.
yet one day might alter everything.

Several ideas may whirl in the mind.
We are obliged to strive forward.
spreading our thoughts globally.
even amidst the perplexity.
or if our ideas are running dry.
It is crucial to bear in mind.
All us are crucial to a larger target. 
Let us manage our time well.
Embrace each fleeting moment 
in this state of discombobulation.

From My Experience

From my experience anyway
the face of a clock is generally
the face or faces of loved ones

hands~ our contribution of little 
extremities that grow, fingers into grips,
arms into outside reaches not limited
to 12 -- like Christ~ the 13th

hearts, from single dwellings,
into villages, worlds and universes

from knowing self and significant
others, into intimate knowledge of
living Catechism...a personal, relatable
Thesaurus of God….

Let the pendulum swing
the gears turn
the crystal vibrate its warmth
the heart pulse from instinctive
memory toward the greater science of
eternal spirit

one is the journey to many

and all

the limitless truth of 

Our Being One….

The Hands of the Eld Pianist Player

Strangers but loved
                aged pianist's hands
                   don't die in silence...
                 The old pianist watches
                 his hands ... learned
                 a secret... the music...
                 Even injured and with strength
                 touch still finds.
                 In silence his tips
                 dactyls hurt, suffer...
                 But the silence knows that
                 will speak in his ringtones...
                 dying toes
                 suck the last ones out of life
                sighs...
                The old pianist sweating,
                 cry dry tears...
                 But the blessed sound
                 the piano plays the music
                 holy, torn from
                 heart...

  Homage to pianist João Carlos
   Martins and his extreme pain in the
   extremities hands and fingers...

Scaffold

Life can be a struggle
Yet still we have those highs
But for many there are low points too
And that’s where sadness lies. 

The ups and downs are standard
Part the tapestry of life
However for just some of us
The extremities are rife

With feelings of elation
And of depths of dark despair
So still through times of empty
We’re expected to be there

For others who need succour
And unconditional love
Just need someone to be there
Like the hand fits in the glove

In time we come to find out
Who is there for us to hold
Our dear supporting network
Who can be our true scaffold

It

I can’t just ignore how tight it hugs me
How it caresses through my soul
How it exposes pretence of innocence overhaul
A touch of it sending goose bumps all over me
I can’t hide anymore, from beautified macabre
Coz its radiance reveals my dark silhouette
The mask unmasked, pulled off and shoved off
Am its pushover, adjunct to its whims and in it swept off
I can’t resist how I slide along its gooey surface
Ever since its appearance, smoothening rough edges,
My entire itinerary requisite sufficed
Back and forth am pushed, taking past hooey serious
To extremities that I could dare not imagine were precious
I sloth at time wasted on fingle-fangle,
With tremor and cowardice, had waved off
And wafted away pots upon pots of inviting cosset
But with it, my tour de force is world class and it I covet
The urge to stretch forth, pluck and sink my teeth
In both poisonous and supple, sweetened sour, to pleasure writhe
Lowering my bucket so deep in their pristine cisterns,
To just drink and drink from their forbidden cool rith
And quench my thirst, decade old thirst
As they call my name amid a bene placito!

Better Living Through Chemistry

arthritis returns
plaguing my extremities
time for aspirin
chemistry for sleepless nights
and painful aggravations

Written September 8, 2022

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