Forefinger Poems | Examples

Your anonymous blog

Your anonymous blog

To my face you are kindness itself:
cheerful, always upbeat,

but in your anonymous blog
you rip me apart.

You press your thumb and forefinger on each side,
hold, pull and rend,
and rupture my very innards.

You focus on me,
my life, my words, my actions and my body
like you are a Celestron Telescope
searching for every single crater and irregularity.

With an Ultima Barlow lens
and your Leica M9 18MP
You grab each natural image
and then rearrange reality with
your precious, perversely persuasive, periscopic Photoshop technique.

poetic liberty has leased you a license to assassinate,
humiliate,
decimate,
invalidate,
severely lambaste,
and mockingly castrate
everything that I identify as me.

literary freedom allows you to liberally fabricate,
mutilate,
denigrate,
incriminate,
scathingly castigate,
and maliciously urinate
on what others think of me.

To my face you are kind beyond selflessness,
but on your online beat,
your anonymous malevolence
sets you apart
from all the others
that have ever wanted
to write me up,
put me down,
and publish me out.

— Zumwalt (2011)  (used by permission from zumpoems.com)

We Can Activate a Happy New Year

Into the fog I fell,
amidst the bone chilling cold,
caterwauled by silence -
eerily the end
of the year, dismal.

With the call of a forefinger,
I float through the mist,
silence switches
to a whisper,
rays appear through the haze.

Into the cradle I amble,
dizzy from 2024 strange happenings.
Lemons and apples fill the trees,
bright, juicy, bountiful, and
plenipotentiary fruit

of a Happy New Year.
Here’s where it gets weird:
we must take care
to love and serve
and the trees will prosper.

Love, joy, peace
patience, kindness, goodness,
gentleness, faithfulness, self-control* -
the kind of fruit that will produce
good results

for years to come.
The Whos in Whoville give praise.
The pennypinching Grinch** gives in.
Bells ring and voices raised.
Cheers, hopeful and kinetic.

*Fruit of the Spirit, bible reference
**Whos, Whoville, Grinch - Dr. Seuss book references

How To Use Condom

Grandmas I teach how to suck eggs:
Marathoners long use of legs,
Soon hurting Enlightened People;
Might sooner unleash a ripple;
What would she say: The Western World?
Possibly, a heart is now galled!
Yet, will I this brash task perform
To a condom culture reform...

Thumb and forefinger on its tip
Making sure the two don't off slip:
For air removing at its tip,
Before facing your partner's hip;
Its space for Ejaculation 
That fetches congratulation!
Condom roll over your organ 
Like perfectly does Morgan,
Not rubbing off lubricant;
You won't end up communicant!

Job finished off slide no spillage
Or else one should query your age;
Your used condom for disposal
A vital point in espousal.

Paper Plane

PAPER PLANE

A project with my small son
After so much paper folding
Sharpening important creases
Anticipation slowly increases
Thumb and forefinger holding
First flight testing has begun

He sees me throw the plane
Into the garden’s warm still air
At first it floats and then dives
A sense of freedom in our lives
What’s a wing without a prayer
Swooping down to crash again

Initial plans were crafted well
Launching to fly into marriage
Reminds me what went wrong
All planes land before too long
Skidding with no undercarriage
Flights suspended as you can tell





Dated 26 August 2022

Lone Folkie

There is a squat/stout duffer in a windbreaker and a Mets cap on the outskirts of the park
playing a rickety 5 string and hoot'in and holler'in.

I have no idea what he is singing. 
There is no discernible melody. 
Every now and then he stops/ freezes/ puts his forefinger in the air
to take some sort of measure
before plunging back into his flailing guitar. 
After another stuttering burst he will stop/
then let loose with an elongated cry to the sky/ 
punk operatic/ style

nobody seems to stop/and listen/he does not have a container for contributions and probably would not get much trade/
he is playing/for his own/self/and that is / enough 
It's/utterly senseless/ wholly out of key. 
Beyond the realm of anything/
resembling cohesive musicality
/rambunctiously obtuse

yet imbued with an innocence that casts proficient excellence into a pallid light. 

His songs/ performance/ like life/ a messy and inconclusive/ thing/

You can have/ your polished practice and Carnegie aspirations/
and make of that an evening/ with class
 
but I like the way this codger lets her rip/ 

this ragged chanteur/
airs it out/ no class/ no talent/ but lotsa / style

Sorry For

all the angers i sent into the world
all the injustices i never got to stop
all the sorry i never spent
not spending more time ogling the cloud
never wearing rain for a shroud
all the times between forefinger and thumb
i have firmly grasped my tongue
and gently held my words
wore my heart upon my sleeve
cause everything inside told it to leave
always jumping out
---------------------------jumped up
while everyone else
never dripped dew from a summer petal
Never smiled as if i meant it
Me and the box have been outside
having a laugh about your thoughts
I missed the echo's return
That this was tooooooooooooooooooooooooo loooooooooooooooooong
if my eyes open tomorrow
That i never followed the mist home
Held fire and ice too long
Jumping rather than walking
all the tears i wasn't there to wipe away
Missing the dipping of the day both ways
never holding an embrace long enough
not being able to touch a shadow
laughing when others sombred silence

I Hold the Sacred Heart In My Hand

I  Hold the Sacred Heart in My Hand

I anger, I make a fist,
ready to throw ... but no.
My heart pride will not hold.
I humble my heart, I let love flow.
lt is love from the mightiest heart of all,
the heart I now hold in my hand.
I tighten my fist, the Sacred Heart.
I extend my pinky, the precious blood.
I touch my forefinger to my thumb, the crown of thrones.
I extend my thumb upward, the eternal flame.
I open my fist, the light of grace.
May it shine upon me.
Indeed, it has.

Earth

I crumbled the dirt between thumb and forefinger
grit tumbled and rolled
following the grooves and fissures
of wrinkled worn hands
light seeping between my fingers
glinted off of some of the specks
like splinters of diamond
trapped within the grime
Hand slipped hand
to remove the dusted layer
and with deep breaths push
the final particles gone

The Rouge of Potential

God must be playing marbles with the planets...
its earths turn to be in the palm of his loving hand
for millennium mankind had his chance at the loom
endless wars, lust and greed is all he could weave.
Now we're perched between Gods thumb and forefinger..
Soon he'll flick us to the outer edges of his patience
branded a cold and hopeless snot ball of darkness,
as he reaches for another sphere, rouged with potential.

The Rendezvous

It was there I waited for you
Outside your office
That unforgettable afternoon….
Suddenly, at a quarter to four
Came a sound from the outside door
In walked the princess
Mi querida, Mi amor

I saw you but you didn’t see me
For I stood outside your periphery
That’s the reason I suppose
Your thumb and forefinger 
Dug inside your nose
Holy cow!
You’d a made a 49er proud

A Tradition Yet Digital

When Rome ruled the world,power was king,
A freedman proudly unveiled his iron ring;

In later years of olde,
The forefinger,the preference of the bold;

The middle by the prudent and discrete
Such dignity now appears polite & so effete;

A loop upon the littlest,show a masterful mind,
The circlet on the third,one of a different kind;

Love& affection,wed as one,to bind & then remind

Prickly Pears

Clustered cactus trees sprawling, reclining in the summer heat
where agile pollinators dart among gorgeous silky blooms.
Day by day the prickly pear fruit swell and mature.
Already the mind conjures visions of red,
magenta, pink, yellow and white.

thriving on spring rain
deep-rooted fantasy
mellifluent desires

Experience has shown that the best time to pick prickly pears
is early morning before the sun’s rays become too hot.
A steady half turn with thumb and forefinger
gently releases the ripened fruit.
The bucket soon fills up.

dewy prickly pears
at break of day
impotent thorns

Rinsed under running water, the fruit waits to be disrobed.
Both ends of each fruit are cut off with a sharp knife,
followed by a long vertical slice along its body.
The thick skin is then peeled back, the
fleshy coloured fruit revealed.

prickly pears
in a glass bowl
naked temptation

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
Contest: “Haibun”
Sponsor: Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer
©17th July, 2017

Just When You Thought

just when you thought
you had it pinched
between thumb and forefinger
it squirmed out
slithered into a crevice
leaving a slimy trail behind
taking turns watching
the crack for eyes in the dark

Deep Time

There are oceans in the ridges
near our house.
Ripple marks and sand slips
set in stone. The long weathering
of the world exposed them
and eventually will wear them down.

A thought experiment: first, a knife.
The thought precedes the word,
as in the fable god brought his works
to Adam to be named. The thought 
empowered by the word sets us apart.

The knife must be steel, dealer of death,
master of armies. It must be sharp.
Man the destroyer – mastery of
death sets us apart.

Take up the knife, carefully.
Observe the delicate grip 
of forefinger and thumb. 
No other primate can do this. 
This clever hand sets us apart.

Now to the hills.
No other creature walks like this.
But we are not
well made for it. 

We have to learn it
and in old age our backs ache and fail
from the burden of a lifetime 
we are not perfectly adapted for.

At the summit kneel 
on rock, the sand
of three-billion-year-old seas.
Take the knife and press down hard. 

Try to make a scratch.
Brush away the dust.
Look at the blade: 
it’s blunt.

Our experiment is done. 
We have made
the brief human expedition through
the landscape of deep time.

Scooping the Poop

Constipated senator Ron Thump
Got frustrated whilst taking a dump
Eww what a sad minger
He used his forefinger …
and extracted it all in a lump!

9TH June 2016

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