Hobbling Poems | Examples

Autumn

Autumn

….. is mortally wounded!
It stumbles, tumbles 
across the silken, rouged sky
quivering over rusted hedges
shivering through shouldered trees,
splattering, smattering 
everything in blood-red.

On it goes, on it flows
gasping and grasping
at clouds of bandages,
hobbling, wobbling 
suffering deep gashes;
haemorrhaging life
in crimson splashes.

While winter;
with the sly smile
of an Arctic fox,
coldheartedly waits for autumn’s
shredded, dreaded last breath!

Ian Souter 2025

Time Dog

I used to get a little bit misty eyed
watching an old person hobbling along 
toting an overweight gray muzzled dog.
Thinking what a tragedy it's going to be 
when one of them leaves the other behind.

Now, I'm that old man hobbling along
with a frantic grey hound dog called time
thinking what a tragedy it's going to be
when Time dog leaves me far- far behind.

AoTEARoa aka New Zealand

Spine chilling velocity
Willing feverish ferocity
Pollution spilling atrocity
Pushes our buttons
Top billing forging
Fiendish drilling pomposity
Gluttons gorging in the isles of muttons

Coining the term “purloining”
Plunder even here down under
Cast asunder..can hear the thunder
In the proud land of 
The long white cloud

Scold from the fold to heal
But won’t listen..do a deal
Gaudy gems appeal..glisten
History sold for pieces of gold

Cower to phoney crony power
Dour Parasites roll the dice
Show pony baloney hour

Off their heads...now divining 
Mining our whining sea beds..

Palaver of scour..devour and sour
Splice our shining slice of paradise
Vice rather than stories of glories told

Voraciously gobbling veracity
Audaciously hobbling precocity
Generosity wobbling even in the home
Of lengthy Cumulus Curiosity…

Not being funny
In this Land of Milk & Honey
Won’t kowtow to the cash cow

Getting out of hand
Because the answer forever
Whatever will never ever
Be just money!

Couplet Challenge Rhyme

The position of rest is with buzzing provocations,
Depict mind as it like, full of vibrations,

The pattern will not be drew to so easily
Let all winter our feelings from fire to the dale for water lilly,

Opportunity comes at ones through this pages,
Frisking frivolities edge to edge no matter rages,

Even a mother wouldn't be indulged with her offspring role early,
She became patient and let the time cover it enduringly,

If a nibble wanted to reach the position,
Must mimic mother's wishes for appropriation,

O! Dear friend surely I became still-stone
And hobbling to reach my flowers with a beacon.

go to restaurant for oldsters

Village Inn
a go-to restaurant for oldsters
old old old old old people
the parking lot is full of walkers and canes
they are hobbling in the speed of clogged ketchup
at seventy-two, I feel like a baby chick next to them

71 is No Fun

my arm is tender
my leg is sore
hobbling and limping
shall I tell you more?

my ankles are killing me
dual arthritis you see
each step down
brings a giant frown

I’m falling apart
a pain in my heart
seventy-one
is no fun

When things go sideways

I took an unexpected trip to Accidental city,
bruised ribs, torn ligaments, a state most
would pity..
Yesterday I experienced a trip and a fall on
uneven asphalt outside a local mall..
There weren't any witnesses to observe
my little feat.
I focused on getting back up and safely
from the street.
My left hip's been iffy for quite awhile so
I pulled myself up in a downward dog style..
If it were only a few bruises I would just
say tsk tsk but once up I realized my pelvis
I had twist..
After reporting it to security I went directly home.
A night with heat and arnica and several mournful moans..
I could bear weight on my right leg so I hobbled thru the day,
until I discovered if I walk my left foot side ways, it keeps the pain at bay..
The author of this poem is still hobbling and hurting so
would some one out there kindly get up and close my curtain?

Novembers End

A few wet, wind scorched leaves,
are pressed like Victorian mementos
upon the wooden walkway

The trees in this forested park are tattered,
or stand like blackened forked skewers
piercing the stark air.

Autumn fell too far, too soon.
Winter grabbed the sky and quickly froze it.
Now the odd leaf upon the ground
seems abandoned, homeless,
unable now to be anything
but the litter of yesterday.

A good day for wading through
the history of this changing season,
to watch those prematurely gray ghosts
hobbling along a pathway
seeking threadbare sparks of life.

Body Ails Yet Spirit Soars

the little engine that could, as they say. he's the tortoise that won the race, despite not coming in first, second, or third. he won hearts because he completed the long, grueling race. many naysayers thought he couldn't do it. they scoffed at his advanced age and bad knee. they thought he'd give in mid-race, but he defied insurmountable odds, shushing all doubters. they counted him out before the race even began, yet, here he is, at the other side of the ribbon! it's his first-ever marathon. hobbling at the finish line, yet he's in seventh heaven! take a bow, grandpa. well-earned!


                                                                                                               against-all-odds win
                                                                                                               never underestimate ~
                                                                                                               quite the underdog

Doing the Splits

Doing the Splits
Got knickers in a twist doing the splits 
Tearing my trousers and hurting my hips
Hubby made hullabaloo 
Turning the atmosphere blue
And now I’m hobbling around on two sticks. 

+*+*+*+

13th May 2023

Funny, Bawdy or Humorous Limerick Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin

Kiss of the Planets

Jupiter and Venus meld like two canaries
Kissing in late February
In a black gap
Between mountainous sparkling beach hotels

As if
The planets have privacy in their own city alley

Sand in Miami
Warm as peach pie beneath our bare feet
A beach just for us
Bob and Kerri

What cosmic gale
Blew these names to our lunar sails?

The froth from ocean waves
Breaks
Like ghostly surfers of dull light
Riding the brink of non-existence

Swoosh and retreat

At the broken ankles of us
Silhouettes
Hobbling past prints in the mud

Sunny Isle Pier flinging her jeweled harpoon
To the starfish abyss

While we are gone
Our boys drive from Lansing to Denver
Forever-
More

They call from the highway and say they’ve discovered
Dark Side of the Moon
On the Plains in a blizzard of pebbles and stones

Try it, I say, while you watch The Wizard of Oz
Then you’ll understand the coming and going
Of our Universe

And all its tricks of sound and vision

Kerri
Pulls my face to her lips
Whispers, Kiss me
While we have this chance by the sea

Tomorrow
The two of us return home
To the zodiac space of our empty house.

Entertaining Angels

A young man rang the doorbell
    three in the morning
Found him huddled there, shoeless, cold
    putting out no warnings

Asked for a glass of water
    a dry pair of socks
Hobbling pretty good
    feet hurt from the rocks

Seemed pretty disoriented
    not sure where he was
ATV was out of gas
    not sure where it was

I asked if I could take him to
    the Wavaho for gas
Naw, that’s where the police are
    said he’d have to pass 

He’d wandered ‘round my property
    knew things in detail
Again, can I get you somewhere?
    But to no avail

We got him to his shoes and coat
    seemed to be a little better
Thanked me for the water
    wouldn’t take a sweater

Told him he needed to take care
    some folks might get upset
Said he knew, he was aware,
    apologetic as he left

He just walked down the road
    off into the night
Not sure what else to do
    hope I did him right

Called the sheriff up
    not to sound alarm
Just didn’t want the young man
    to come to any harm

Suspect he lives out in the woods
    but he’s not passed this way before
Entertaining angels unaware
    huddled at my door

Hobbling

I hobbled to the river
Which was worth each step of pain.
My bench and sunshine beckoned
So my walk was not in vain.

The early hour guaranteed
No crowds would block my views;
The sparkle of the water 
Would be something sad to lose.

There’s not a single thing right now,
While sitting, that I lack
But a better knee would help
When I begin my hobble back.

Pictures On the Wall

Gray haired man hobbling down the hall
Forty years of pictures hanging on the wall 
From diapers to kindergarten and their very first bike
That time at the beach when we flew our first kite
Boy Scouts & Girl Scouts, T-Ball & soccer 
Dressed up on Halloween as a little punk rocker
Camping trips & Disney World more than I can count
These were my best years without a doubt
Grammar school, high school, college then gone
Married your sweethearts & have your own little home
A timeline of treasures with family and friends 
It seems like yesterday when we first moved in
As I gaze over the memories of the ones I adore
A tiny little human comes crawling on the floor
Grandpa! I love you! The little child speaks
As the tears of joy flows down my wrinkled cheeks.

Footroo

One flight of steps down 
                    you can smell it
                       the putrid odour of urine
your eyes must adjust to the darkness
then you hear it
              in the distance
                           Clunk, thud, Clunk
the sound of metal on stone
followed by loud swears
                           Funk, thud, Funk
              closer now
Then you see him
                     a begrimed creature
Hobbling on a crutch
                     propping his metal leg,
             lost in the war
War 
        had broken him, 
                               physically
furrowed pain upon his face
                   he still rues his lost foot  
People call him “Footroo”
  	          Cause he hops like one
he spends his days underground
                   away from the nastiness
                               new enemies abound
Peace (huh)
              had shattered him, 
                                mentally.
This is his bomb-shelter now…

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