Femur Poems | Examples

I have this one idea

It bit the back of his throat as he opened the door the nightly cold brisk.
So different from the warmth of the bed he had just left

Coffee and chocolate
Anything else

From an interior bedroom
beneath her pillow she yelled

Chips we need chips

Taking a mental note he turned once more into the acceptance of cold

The rattle of his keys
a femur xylophone echoing
In the early of winter morn.

Thoughts of a Border Collie While Pondering a Bone

Thoughts of a Border Collie While
Pondering a Bone

Mine, mine, mine, I think
as I drip drool on the floor.
Bloody meat clings
tenaciously to the hard bone.
White fat, like veins of gold,
marbles the red treat.
My owner is thawing this delicious
delicacy on the counter.
I watch and wait with longing
as I think of the animal odor.
Sharp canines will soon tear
and rend all from the cow’s femur.
My probing tongue will pull the tangy, 
succulent marrow from its hiding place.
When all has been eaten, it will
become my favorite chew toy as
I will gnaw, gnaw, gnaw until not
one atom remains.
Then I will lay back in the cool shade
and realize I am a lucky dog.

Ties

Ties

The squealing of
the glowing ties in 
my bottom chest drawer,
 ties I seldom wear and 
definitely don’t think 
much about, spreads in 
my knee to 
affect the 
lateral collateral and 
medial collateral ligament; affect the 
lateral and 
medial meniscus; of course too 
affect my 
patella, femur, fibula, and 
finally tibia. As a consequence, there are 
days and nights I can’t 
walk and 
I can’t 
thank them all enough!

His Right Leg

A ticket pinned to the thigh reserves it,
the whole cadaver is parceled off - of course.
Legs are a late harvest, these often-indigent parts
carry a visual poverty long after the body is plucked.

Under watchful eyes the young medics
separate muscle groups, filter large blood vessels
from fibrous runnels, hesitant scalpels
seek out fascial planes.

The leg is devolving to scraps,
yet, ingrained in the tissue
I sense residual shades of a former life,
seaside postcards, old photographs,
perhaps campaign ribbons, odd tokens
amongst yellowed newspaper clippings,
all briefly surface as conjectured images
beneath a probing knife.

The gray flesh retains its personal history,
I imagine that behind the knee
there is a wife, children, and a separation
all spectrally etched between femur and tibia.
Much of the ensuing bone-whittling years
are demonstratively scored
across a formaldehyde and jelled narration.

The students suppose they dissect a limb,
while I notion that I turn over bloodless pages,
of an unwritten story,
and now the last few attached ligaments
remain as threads that speak at last
of a long journey’s end.

Epiphany

("Eye of Storm", original encaustic, 2017)

Epiphany

I’ve had two major epiphanies in my life,
And I figure three is all we really get.
So far they are following a pattern
Of thesis/antithesis
So I assume the third will be some kind of synthesis.

The first involved pain.
When I broke my femur in a climbing accident
I had some time to consider pain
And I concluded that it can always be worse
As in, it’s never a full 10 on the scale.

The second was a couple of years later
With my second climbing accident
When I did a 40 foot backwards swan dive
Landing on rock, cracking my helmet 
Instead of my skull.

What I learned when I woke up several hours later
In a hospital far from home
Was that no matter how much pain we experience
When we die it ends
As if it never had been…

I think the third when it comes at last
Will be something along the lines;
I really don’t know sh*t
And never have
Despite a lifetime thinking otherwise.

I think it’s an epiphany 
To enter an open door with
Regardless of what’s come before
Somehow knowing it’ll all be familiar
The way dreams are, just before we awake.

(5/27/24)

Afrerlife

Three breaths away -
His cloak floats
Dark, luminous
A cold wind wraps around me

Precious water,
Dripping in mirth
A song chills my bones,
Familiarity rings in my femur bones

The sacred scythe
Grazes my thigh
Precious red jewels
Rushing to join it

I fade drop by drop,
His smile infectious,
His potence my privilege
Curtains awry to the afterlife.

Kenopsia

A momentary apocalypse
Or something very near to that
For an instant, I am the only survivor.
The road stretches before me like an exposed
Femur, straight and bare
As if all the cars had died, decayed, and been carried off by vultures on the side of the highway
Nothing more than roadkill. 
There is a strange, solitary silence
That echoes in my chest 72 times per minute
As if I am the only creature breathing in 196.9 million square miles
A sacred and fleeting feeling.
And if I were alone
The last of the human race, would I cross the finish line
Or sit and watch the sun sink into flames for the last time?

Femur Sighs

Femur sighs, given a break and transformed by love.
— by poet (inspired by Ira Byock)

What’s worse than an illness, an accident?
Imagine with me
helpless in the abyss…
Open to the curse of curs.

No warm or cold compress
No caress
No handkerchief

No matter how hard you have it,
if surrounded by compassion,
you’re not as broken.

Hip

How delicately you connect my whole physique,
The upper part and the lower half into one;
Leaving no organ to be unworkably weak,
Uniting the whole like the universe fine-spun...! 

Joining my legs and the trunk of my body well,
Fibers, tissues, nerves, bones, flesh, and blood together;
As a honeycomb combining each little cell,
You have bound the body like the wing and feather...!

Knit into, like thread in a loom or rods welded,
Two bones: the pelvis, and the thighbone or femur, 
Ilium, ischium, and pubis - well felted,
All beautifully set as though by a reamer...!

Like heaven and the Earth delicately unite,
O hip, you maintain my physique splendidly tight...!!!

Update

New update, November 15, 2022

 

Caleb saw the orthopedic surgeon today. He said that he did not break his femur, but the patella(kneecap) dislocated but went back in place, there is bruising, and possibly torn cartilage. He is sending him to PT for 2 weeks then he will see the surgeon again about the torn cartilage. Prayer healed the broken bone and it is a much less serious injury, but it still hurts, is swollen, and needs time to heal.

 

Thank you again, 

Sara

Post Halloween

A unicorn's horn,
tattered and torn,
a half eaten Hershey's,
2 crushed candy corn.
The tiniest bat wing,
mummy's white sling,
skeleton's femur,
spider web string.
Witch’s silk hat,
yawn from the cat,
shriveling pumpkin,
Snickers smushed flat.

When ghosties have gone
this is the scene;
left over remnants,
post Halloween.

Armor Against Glamour

Against her conquering glamour 
I wear my steely armor,
Self also defending against rich humor
With a face of Cancerous Tumor
While my pals she shakes with a tremor
That hardly spares a good femur 
Like The Kingfisher did and I fell for Seymour 
And till today for the story clamor!

Yet, my eyes sometimes flash The Glints
In Endlessly Reckless Yours
Their messages in a hard print.
A seductress exploits their flaws
For imprisoning a guy in her baiting arms
Or spinning round his misbehaving palms …

Either way to not go in his favor
Nor same showcase as True Endeavor.

Holding Back Tears

It's nine years in a row of continuous crisis
lost in the wilderness of a dry Oasis
on all long bones is the constant emphasis
for a condition which began as Tuberculosis.

The pain and discomfort, too much to bear
she is too ready for the worst to worry and fear
the weather smells nice but will mock and share
neighbours always smile but absolutely don't care.

The body fights just to prove it's a weaker host
medications and herbs, wholly trusted to do the most
yet, her days are numbered, she now communes with a ghost
the traffic light turns red and Earth, no longer her post.

For a forty year old, this shouldn't be the end
I hold back the tears, I cannot pretend
my Aunt's life, God, please extend
all the Angels you have, oh Lord, gather and send.

Counting in weeks, she may not have two more
misfortune slowly acts on eventuality's rumour
a silent killer eats, evident by a weaker femur
a terrible relapse and this time, it's more than one tumour.

9th. August. 2021
This or That, Vol 5 Poetry Contest- Holding back Tears.
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh.

4th Position

The Human In the Room

so DISAPPOINTED when my cheeks never changed to bears
What if the room is filled with elephants
Surely ponies couldn't be magicians
HO-----------------yourhorses-------------------LD
Not enough people chase wild geese
Feel like removing the water from around the fish
Was that read or am i miss herring
did you see the plate that lion was carrying
between a bee's femur, tibia, where you find its best bits
How much straw did you put on the camel
What about necking like a giraffe
Would a police vehicle be like an inside out hedgehog

Flag

flag

a train runs over me and mine
indifferent to our
cries its moguls feed without blinking are incredulous
masses going to swell to occasion grace is it
to be sheep suckled on milks of 
savage pride while honey-blessed malnourished
legions no longer bleat they howl with mutant
alchemy grey towers conjure only
more foul-magic talismans to throw dogs empty
bones will not satisfy even sparrows consume themselves in famine
they'll have to kill me i'll not taint myself in
their unholy rag i've seen them eat their children and pimp
their own to strangers
he began to weep rivers of flame and bleed armies of rage
too late to quench tiger-fire soon will femur 
trumpets wail chod-rite cymbals crash all urns of sin spill forth
lava-like consuming marionette and masters in
ancient ways known to all

rb '90

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