Long Bunions Poems
Long Bunions Poems. Below are the most popular long Bunions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bunions poems by poem length and keyword.
The wages of sin are just never paid.
Try as you might you can't make the grade.
Came home from work all tired and forlorn,
My back hurts, my feet hurt, I've bunions and corns.
I've pills for my back, my neck and my shoulders,
No sense in complaining, I'm just getting older.
I rarely sleep now, I just pass out,
Then I wake with a start 'cause my dogs must go out.
The cat's waiting patiently by the back door,
As the dogs race excitedly across the floor.
Then I go to the bathroom to swallow my pills,
Half an hour before breakfast, it's my daily drill.
I bend over double to brush out my locks,
Took a coughing fit and peed in my sock.
I'm just getting old I tell myself again,
It's my punishment now for a youth filled with sin.
T’was perhaps by dint of fate
Or some demonic spell
That I, a sock, was granted
The gift of sniff-less smell
I gaged and retched in darkness
Of a foot’s pungent aroma
Finally, I fled the scene
Became a match-less roamer
I hang about old laundramats
With socks lost and unfound
They share a single loneliness
A fading hope of being found
Not me, I shout, I shan’t return
It’s the wanderer’s life I seek
For I miss not the brogans
And those feet that truly reek
Yet, you may see me resting
In the warmth of sunset’s fail
Singing songs of corns and bunions
As I walk that lost sock trail
A visit to Lidl, can seem like a riddle
But I like to browse through the aisles in the middle
Where you may find farmyards and little toy zoos
Right next to pair of size 5 ladies shoes
The range in the middle seems muddled and weird
The padlocks sit next to a small plastic beard
But I’ve just discovered the madness had spread
The grocery aisles have messed with my head
If you have gone there to chat up female singles
You will not impress with their own branded Pringles
Their fresh eggs are packaged like nothing I’ve seen
Who buys their eggs in a pack of fifteen
It does make some sense to have band-aids for bunions
But what is the purpose of onion-less onions
Is it fair that youth is beauty
That the best we can ever be
Is before we are twenty three
Why can't a wrinkle be sexy
Who says grey hairs are icky
Contact lenses are too tricky
Comfort and ease of eyeglasses
Tri focal eyeglasses
But why, but how, when
Did youth escape and old fogey begin
The burden of life's responsibilities
The worry of offspring indeed
The need for success
The desire to impress
That weather our smooth silky skin
Into worn leather feel rough and thin
Tooth loss and baldness
Nose hairs and body aches
Disease and numbness
Hot flashes and body shakes
Dimming of senses
Enlargement of ears
Shrinking by inches
New things are fears
Tired blood and blue veins
Forgetting whats her name
Corns and bunions
Yelling at them youngins
Jello instead of steak
Maalox replaces milkshakes
Eat dinner at four asleep by nine
Can't believe the speed of time
Is it fair that youth is beauty
Why can't being old be better
Then aches from change of weather
To using a cain instead of raising it
Gumming a steak until you can't spit
Just think how sexy you will be
If you finally reach forty three
Lets change our perspective
Not be so narrowly selective
Enough of the smooth shapely firm
Cute bouncing buns we had and yearn
Let's hear it for the pale faded
Wrinkled saggy way nature made it
Posteriors of the more mature crowd
On second thought without my glasses
Youth is beauty
Enjoy while its yours
O! my man Oh! Man he’s got bottom feet;
My man ma’man got them bottom feet;
And My O My he’s so ever sweet;
Ma Man he’s got bottom feet;
Gen Z favors brands like, Brand
Men's Ted Baker London
Gucci, Blackstock & Weber
Vince Camuto Shoes
Eye stroll see you comin
Toward me darling
Amble saunter wend one's way
Trudging runnin in yo bare feet
You dun have to have Gen Z shoe brands
Plod on unto me, baby
I love you wit yo bad feet N awe
I love you with them bunions
Run brother run honey come
Run unto me don’t need to be wearin
Nike Jordan and Adidas brands
Come on a running, to me darling just as you are
Gymshark, Lululemon, Under Armour, Champion
Advance move go, run boy run
Make one's way mosey yomp proceed
Perambulate travel on foot
Be a pedestrian foot it, hoof it
Come run unto me on this surface
Accompany escort guide show me as you run to me
Attend lead steer have your way with me dear
Attend come on and chaperone mine heart dear love
Stand before me don’t have to own no, Cole Haan
Magnanni, Men's Bruno Magli shoe brands
Come on boy run unto me and
Be just bare feet in your bare feet
Run to me, come to me
Stand before me naked foot
Come bunion, pigeon toes
Corn and calluses in all
Step out Stride wander
Promenade roam footslog traipse
Go for a walk stretch one's legs out
Take the air darling walk, run, stand right here
Eye stroll see you comin
Toward me darling
Amble saunter wend one's way
Trudging runnin in yo bare feet
You dun have to have Gen Z shoe brands
Plod on unto me, baby
I love you wit yo bad feet N awe
I love you with them bunions
Run brother run honey come Run unto me don’t need to be wearin
My man Oh! Man he’s got bottom feet;
My man ma’man got them bottom feet;
And My O My he’s so ever sweet;
Ma Man he’s got bottom feet, my man comes runs onto me
11/15/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
OLD AGE
My hair has turned gray,
My hips lost their sway,
And my knees have started to creak.
I`ve got corns and bunions,
My arches have fallen,
And my bladder has started to leak.
I`ve got glasses too,
Keep around pairs, a few,
`Cause I can`t always find them, you see.
It`s a must needs to keep them,
`Cause if I can`t find them,
I can`t see to put in my teeth.
My knees are both achin`,
And that has been makin`,
My back hurt clear up to my head.
My youth is gone too, Dear,
But old age I don`t fear,
I`d rather be old than be dead.
So keep on a-smilin`,
And keep on defyin`,
The Grim Reaper long as you can.
I`m goin`full tilt,
Until I get kilt,
Or die from old age, that`s my plan.
Judy Ball
I am adamant hi cringe at the thought of dirty feet
I am biased and subconscious of crimson vegetable beets
No longer nowhere do you find coconut treats
Chocolate covered crimson beige grasshopper leaves
While ants are scrimmaging laterally liking playing football
And bees are buzzing around making a buzzzzz sound
Fluttering butterflies fluttering flattering floating
around above the ground the lower the sky has
Yet the parlay fleet of grasshoppers marching crickets rubbing their legs
Sounding off while they here are they there seemingly they're everywhere
Skreet Skreet Skreet the screeching sounds that come from their feet
Chirping chirping chirping where are they and do they ever sleep
I too have feet and I'm a floor runner
Twix and tween my corns and bunions
I'm coming running on my feet for you
9/14/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020
As we approach a certain age
Before the end draws nigh
Afore my knees give up the ghost
Or bunions stop me climbing high
When all I eat is jam on toast
Now is it time to make the most
To maybe write a bucket list
Of all the things I might have missed
Like jumping from an airplane
Too risky, that’s insane
Or swimming with a shark or two
Is something I would never do
To teeter on a tightrope above a high abyss
Would be crazy I have vertigo
So think I’ll give this one a miss
To bungee jump from way up high
Please have the medics standing by
My bucket list abundant
Making sharks or two redundant
With adventures unfulfilled
That I do not want to miss
Like a day trip to the Moon
Wishing this could happen soon
Set sail upon a Galleon
In search of Paradise
To discover Shangri-La
Or a place they call Utopia
Oh dear, I think I’ve lost the plot
I‘m sounding even dopier
I can’t believe I’m dreaming of a place they call Utopia
Returning to reality
I make myself a pot of tea
For I don’t need a bucket list
As there is nothing I have missed
Contest Strand no 710
Sponsor Brian Strand
1st Place
[Written with much love and bonhomie in
response to Milt’s Poem ‘Hearty Poetry Soup’]
*
Not so long ago in a land called Soup
A warlock gathered a talented group
These were the wordsmiths who writ all Soup Lore
But the warlock decided that they’d write no more
For he had been born to be ‘Soup Laureate’
A role he’d hold longer the more folk he ate
Even a warlock is sometimes unreasoned
Not much consolation…when you’ve been lightly seasoned
So here in this cauldron we boil and we bubble
Somehow I sense we’re in some kind of trouble
My hope is this as I cling to the edge
I hope I’m the meat and not the two veg
But, lo, I discover that Milt’s being mother
He’s spotted my need to write something or other
His warlock-like methods at first seemed remiss
Until this old turnip sat down to write this
But still I find one thing decidedly troubling
I look like a beetroot from all of that bubbling
My poor scalded feet are developing bunions
So at my next barbecue… Milt’s in the onions!
When we are deep into
a constant,
unrequited,
impossible love,
such a divine passion
is said to be most soothing for pimples
and bunions.
Also,
as incredible as it seems,
a secret lover that you have no hope
of ever knowing or meeting -
those kinds of romantic fantasies
will totally banish kidney stones
and chronic melancholy.
Medical science agrees with scripture,
that the ridiculous and utterly unlikely,
can jazz up your libido, and add vim to your
most innocent of sins.
You can now date late at night,
while your partner beside you
dreams of making love
to some movies star or other
without any guilt.
Unfortunately,
a delusional broken heart
still hurts.