Shins Poems | Examples

A Walk with Father

He leads me through East London,
docks, pubs, among the stray dogs, the
River Thames lapping at low clouds.

We find the second-hand player in a street
where the shops are dusty holes under the arches
of viaducts and railway bridges,

Me carrying the portable Dancette record player
in its hard Bakelite box,
lifting it by its leatherette handle, and I,
small for my age
but wanting so much to lug it all the way home.
The plastic cuts my fingers,
sharp corners bark my shins.

Father talks of his life here, the blackouts
and bombs, rationing,
and the bloody Saturday night street fights.

He whistles tunes
from a songbook of dead crooners.

That evening sitting together, with Sinatra -
watching the dark blue Capitol label
spiral and blur,
hearing the unseen belt under the bobbing needle
as it chewed vinyl -
reliving the clunk-clunk of our boots
as we pushed back fog-muted miles.

Years later, finding that player again
in mother's attic, lifting the machine
feeling how light, it is,
willing to take another walk with him
yet not knowing how to catch up.

i'll never get to shout, 'his excellency's horses!'

pants for watching -
as we wonder around the supermarket

my daughter pushes her own trolley
she's trying to give her brother's shins a wallop

he shouts at her - how dairy 
the trolley is confiscated; we look for the extra strong mints

there's a dog in a trolley
looking shell-shocked

we pass the ham
my son talks of hamlet 

my daughter, in the trolley; her cheeks scrape against
the frozen food doors

sweet chin music in the fruit aisle
i jump on the melons 

in snack limbo
we find the mints and confectionary

we can't find the car
cash and carry blues 

a trolley is rolling towards us at 20 mph
we're running out of thyme

Wishes

Wishes

I made wishes: to 
have 
instant not light shaggy hair, to 
have a
not able to 
be eaten egg-shaped nut with
yellowish brown shell (no face) as a 
head, to 
have aluminium shins and 
maybe 
aluminium eyes.

Another Nonsensical Tale

"Balls!" said the umpires
"Strike!" yelled the pins
"Take that!" cried the little girl
who kicked both my shins

And when the green penguin 
started dancing a jig
I realized it was high time
to buy a new wig

So I hopped on my pogo stick
and headed to town
Took me two weeks to get there
bouncing up and down
 
But the town was abandoned 
Oh no, not again!
And that's when I spotted
a large rabid hen
 
It was foaming at the beak
when it then spotted me
so I bounded and hopped
up the side of a tree

Then the tree said "gesundheit"
though no one had sneezed
and the squirrel with his nuts
seemed mightily pleased

Saw a midget run by
looking like Ben Gazzara
and over his shoulder
was Maureen O'Hara
 
Then I sprang from the tree
and pogo'd back home 
where I wasn't quite sure
how to wrap up this poem

So I stole a line here 
and borrowed a line there
nobody will read it
'cause nobody cares

And that ends the story
you can sigh in relief
Every bit of it's true
if you suspend disbelief

© Mike Wise 
7-5-24

Raining in Summer

Like a welcome Summer rain, humor may suddenly
cleanse and cool the earth, the air and you.
—Langston Hughes

RAINING IN SUMMER

  The little teapot leaned over, steam pours out,
sizzles on the pavement. Trickles, sprinkles,
  waters the subsidiary gardens that sprout -
those pointed out by a grandson. My wrinkles
  curve up as the rain skillfully waters my willow,
my patch of roses and lilies, scattered and rare.

  With Summer storm, I ruminate on a long time ago.
This grand-generation of blessing, not yet a prayer.
  Drip…drop…splosh! The hope of the window pane.
We dream, as the outburst streams down to spill
  our dreams, like seeds giving more than the mundane.
God saturates our lives with more than we will.

  It’s raining Summer all over this land of honey-wheat.
Though droll and gray, a grateful soak gifts a sun rise.
  My flower petals, leaves and boughs bathed in heat
and nourishing drink, replenishing the owls, and other wise.
  Ker-splash, the puddles of inky-mud, stain the shins,
  leave me, us, them, refreshed and sodden with grins.

Dirt

Dirt is great,
  To grow crops,
  Build houses,
  Mix with water,
  Smear all about.


  On the other hand,
  Dirt is all over the land,
  And I would like to see,
  A little less dirt on me!


  I track it into the house,
  Leave great lumps all about.
  Stain my clothes,
  Have dirty shins.

  Makes me wonder,
  Could I plant seeds in this fertile stuff?
  Grow my own groceries,
  And carry them about?

  Perhaps let miniature cows graze in my hair,
  Have milk and cheese to store behind my knees?
  Find a few small chickens to eat bugs out of my ears,
  Lay eggs in my pockets,
  To keep them quite near.

  I guess dirt could be great,
  Particularly if your covered of late!

Im Looking Forward To

I’m looking forward to
   letting my bare feet sink in silt
   the waves weighing me down
   salt sea leaving me breathless

I’m looking forward to
   the sun bleaching my hair
   heating my arms, legs, scalp
   and the coconut scent of sunscreen

I’m looking forward to
   sand between my toes
   shifting, drifting, flipping
   and coating my shins

I’m looking forward to
   the playful splashing of the sea
   watching kids make moats &
   build and destroy sandcastles

I’m looking forward to
   looking over my shoulder
   for alligators and snapping turtles
   on the loose, near every canal

I’m looking forward to
   the tropical sips and eats
   the lightning that strikes
   right in front of my vehicle

I’m looking forward to
   Florida highs and lows
   The Mean Girls musical
   My grand in the lead

2/22/2023

Breathe Breath What's This

The breathe of life given twice
You hold on ever so tight
You inhale and exhale
You expect right
Oxygen breath the freshness of humanity polluted aire
while coughing and reacting to the toxins
Around my shins
Daylight can't travel through the blacken grayin skies
As we walk blindly in the the fog?
What does it mean to gasp, gasp, gasp Breathe Breath
and am I alive or dead

12/7/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2022©

Against All Odds

I took the high road home, though it wasn't easy 
neglected, abandoned, and used, I felt I deserved better 
so I moved away from that dirty apartment full of rats and dirty men, 
and cleaned up my act by working in a respectable Motel as a maid 
I did the same kind of work but at least I got paid 
and I didn't go home with a black eye and bruised shins 
Tired of making up excuses for myself,  I had to do something 
so when I saw him enter the motel with Barbie girl, smelling of wine
and awful spritz, all I could do was tuck my head in and walk ;
"Maggie,  you look like you just saw a ghost " my co-worker said 
I gave her the do not disturb sign, " place this on that door please, 
they don't want to be disturbed" 
Then I walked to the front desk and dialed the police, 
I told them where they could find  him.  Then I went back  
to that dirty rat infested apartment and cleaned all night,  
until the dawn bathed me with morning light.  I was going to
be alright, at least for a fortnight.   

October 24, 2021 
Sponsor:  Regina McIntosh 
Contest Name: The High Road

Ode To a Naked Woman

I found it on the internet,
done up in shades: black, white, a gray;
a photograph of a woman,
what her name is, I cannot say.

She’s not wearing a single stitch,
and casts a shadow on the ground,
her limbs arranged in such a way
that her picture won’t be taken down.

It starts with dainty, pointed toes,
long shins and slender, curving calves,
lovely thighs glisten in the light,
the kind women are jealous to have.

The hips are full and alluring,
nut obscured by a blocking knee,
in the right spot to keep us men
from seeing her Holy of Holies.

A stomach toned but somewhat soft,
hint of six-pack, but nothing more,
her arm splayed across lovely breasts
to keep us from seeing much more.

Still-wet hair trailing down her chest,
hints of shoulder swooping to neck,
a mouth that’s hanging just open
as if tempting to what comes next.

I’m sure some are now reading this,
convinced that I’m just a pervert,
yet if I did this in oil paint
you’d all call it my master-work.

Friggin’ painters have all the fun…

I Seen a Flower

I seen a flower
A delicate flower
Colors of July
The scent undescribable
Dancing at my shins
Asking for attention
I look
I see
I seen a flower

You Without Scars

You without scars
Where were you when the rest were climbing trees?
Scuffing shins, scraping our knees
Where were you when the hardest lessons were learned?
With everlasting reminders, carved in flesh
Where were you when we left home?
Bound to roam, into the danger of a world unknown
Where were you when we tested our limits?
Our endurance, perseverance
Where were you when we surrendered to love?
The draw of the rose and its thorns pricked with blood
Where were you when we were young and foolish?
Heedless and reckless and without regrets
Where were you when enemies came?
When we fought them back with steel and flame.
Where were you when we were living?
Collecting our scars as proof
Each raised line, joining together
A roadmap of a life lived
Every step, every mistake, every challenge overcome
Where were you who stands today
Flawless, unblemished as a blank page
Where were you?
Did you live?

If I Close My Eyes

there is a sheeesey sound as water slides
                   up and around then all through me
                            as the wave is swallowed by the sand

     making clucking sounds as bubbles pop
      in a final burp of sandy breath

               along the shore all shorn and smoothly worn
                         from countless liquid sanding strokes
                                 shells and stones are tossed to grind

      in a kaleidoscope of nature’s weave of textures
      muted hues of earth in harmony with the sea

               I wait for the breech of the next wave song
                       to come and playfully tickle my shins
                               as the foam dances together with air

       that teaches me softness in its evaporated bliss
       with closed eyes this memory finds me

9-17-2020
'COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE(12) any theme any form' Poetry Contest

Red Apple In the Snow

When the cool snow falls, a white mink coat
wrapped around my toes and shins,
beautiful breeze of ecstatic energy,

I will let this Summer fall
as if it were a lovely gown
folded and boxed.
(after all there are some sweet memories)

A plump, perfectly formed red apple
shimmers in the snow
with one bite —

I’d not gorge on it,
lest I’d die.

(yet there were some sweet memories - don’t forget)

The snow couldn’t keep me inside.
It’s where my dreams abide.
An owl blends into its habitat,
yet it is day,
I don’t give a hoot

I must shovel
and ball up
and throw
and laugh
and twirl

(basically act like a little girl)

and tickle my love’s back
with white crystal
diamonds, that make him jump
and run
after some fun.

(I must believe Winter
will deliver)

I pull my knees to my chest
and shiver…

7/13/2020

The Sea and Beer

The sea was in a beer swilling mood.
Peroni guggling in frothy blasts.
Swirling, white and foamy, cool gulps hitting the back of my throat found my feet and shins and knees. 
Pulling back sucking my feet into sandpits, playing for fun. 
I savioured the taste and watched pitcher after pitcher roll white-turquoise and crash forward. 

The sky kites out flying hazy in Atlantic spray.

Then a new sea, silky silver grey tongues, mermaids licking their young with contented ease against soft warm sand. 

A gentle calm using light to carve pictures of dancing candles. Like a theatre with many actors, of kings,  storms, fairies, pirates and maidens these oceans pick to play. I watch and   drink the beer served with ice rays of bubbles moving in and out, semi circles of intoxication. 
Today the sea was in a beer swilling mood.

• Short Shins Poems
• Famous Shins Poems
• Best Shins Poems
• Read Shins Poems
• Long Shins Poems
• Shins Quotes