falling for you is......
like tripping on my shoestrings
or falling downstairs
Kansas wind picks up my notebook pages
hem of my nightie
my shoestrings are waving
the wind is more intense now
the tree limbs are swinging
my wind chimes are playing like an orchestra
birds screech as they fly toward safety
the wind comes back and picks up my cat
my dog, my chaise lounge, and my car
you did hear me say
Kansas wind
right?
Once upon a time but not so long ago,
A man sat by a pond dangling his big toe.
A rather large fish enjoying his daily swim,
Noticed the mans big toe that kept enticing him.
The man saw the fish as he sauntered by,
He wanted that tasty fish and he must fry.
His pole already baited was lying by his foot,
When he picked it up it landed in the brook.
The fish all laughed at him when his worm escaped,
There would be no dinner on the poor mans plate.
The moral of this story goes something like this..
If your efforts are lazy you'll never achieve a thing,
Like trying to lace your shoes without shoestrings.
If kidnappers grab me, I will kick out their tail lights
Put my hand out and wave to other drivers on the freeway
If this does not work, I will kick the trunk until it pops open
I will wave down the police
If the kidnappers stop and chase me
I will lie on the ground and hold onto the grass
If that does not work, I will tie their shoestrings together
Ancient ones present me the wisdom
Allow me be influenced by the intuitive I Ching
Fall for nothing, stand for something
I value myself too much just to be someone's fling
Always portrayed an instinct to do the right thing
Gift me with sapphire instead of a diamond ring
In the 80’s my shoes had the fat shoestrings
Miyamoto Musashi taught me how to be a victor
In the literature of the Book of Five Rings
Never to sure what the future may be delivering
Elevate my awareness, I continue mastering
At times reality can be very frustrating
I imagine conditions could be worse all things considering
At night, if you're really quiet you'll hear the ancestors whispering
Inciting truth, knowledge, balance, and understanding
It's a shame people find being ethical challenging
Some say everything is everything
A lyrical concoction I'm propelled to bring
As I listen to the Carolina Wren sing
their eyes
they flutter
or is it propel
either way
a subtle prelude
to a kiss out of sync
their conversation
an amalgamation
of giggles and smiles
more telepathy
between hearts
than anything else
their legs
entwined like shoestrings
on a pair of old sneakers
seem to imply
the mating ritual
of hoverflies
Who knew that I would need
shoestrings to escape rape?
I felt safe on a double date,
the “safety in numbers” misnomer.
He came on like a ten-armed
octopus with suction cup hands.
The couple in the back seat
were obviously in full accord,
based on sounds my ears
were recording.
Out-manned in size and strength,
I searched for a weapon.
I found it in the glove box.
A single, unattached shoestring
serves well as a garrote
when applied to the neck
of one whose hands are
occupied elsewhere.
He took me home.
The sky was lit by blinding light
But, not sunlight
The panorama was painted with darting pellets
But, not of rain rivulets
The ground quivering under flitting feet
But, not earthquake
The horizon hung with billowing smoke
But, not pillows of fluffy clouds
The constant bombing sounds bombarded my ears
But, not fireworks
As I looped in my shoestrings and gathered my rifle
My eyes yearned for an eyeful of that rodent-bitten snapshot
Stifling a sob that pained my heart,
Knowing I kept my promise for the nation before I depart...
Patients in and out within the backdrop of muted rose walls, blue carpet,
dark wood and purple plaid textiles. As faces changed, colors clashed.
One young girl wore scarlet shoestrings and a gold skirt topped by a
fuchsia tee. Nurses passed quickly back and forth, wearing deep plum
and teal with neon purple latex gloves; Van Gogh in motion. Names
called out, processing a human throng in a sterile environment. Seats
for sixteen. Each one waited . . .feet tap, tap, tapping; magazine pages
flipped before un-focused eyes. A TV blared. Cups of bitter brew—held
in lifeless hands—grew cold and bitter.
Bill's name was called. I stood up. His doctor smiled, "He did great," he
said, and led me into a small room. He explained details of the procedure
and handed me an enlarged color photo, a glossy print depicting surgery.
As I stared at my husband's insides, he said, "This is for your family album."
the balcony
a bird tugs at my
clean shoestrings
Mesmerizing eyes shaded behind the draw blinds.
My lips are tied with giggling lace, to mute and smudge absent a feel.
A cold fragment, jagged and warped into razor ends.
A piece I believed to be lost inside a locker cast into sea, somehow netted from its coral bed.
a mermaid to be snagged from the crescent waves to drown a big heart.
Words are sweet but can be in comprehension ever so bitter.
So allow me to wipe away this painted smile.
A smile so vigorous with hope it could have ended the cold war.
-Mitch
I watched
I watched when I was younger, a woman lose her life
To a man, to a rock, to a knot, and never become a wife.
I watched when I was seven the most beautiful woman alive
She was oh so amazing, with big brown eyes
And two dimples at the corner of her smile
Before and now, she has walked a thousand.
I watched a woman began to hate
Herself and her life and begin to question her fate.
I watched a woman meet her prince
Only to be abused, and used at her own expense
And introduced to the “rock” of her life
That later brought on never ending strife.
I watched a little boy tie his shoestrings in a knot
A woman reach up, to cup, and feel a knot
A daughter fight back the knot in her chest
For her mom has lost her right, and now left breast
A son that was buried underneath the sun
Only to think of the “rock” because, this is where it begun.
l. it was seven octobers of knowing you
through refrains of musk earth and rosette skies ,
we lay with hands outstretched
under a family of flowering trees
riddled with moonlit pearls
feasting on legs entwined, laughing at shared tears.
we were everywhere,
between the falling of leaves and rising of our gazes,
the twilight fondling our fragrant tresses sweet
ll. and so it is,
at some absent place, at some errant time
with strains of our song “lost in space”,
you dashing off with your shoestrings
that meant , “maybe, i no longer care”…
yet, those screeches of madness turned
to wrapping of hands in prayer,
the midnights dark with rattling trees and shared tears
lll. and still, , deep upon our soul's abiding request
we blazed our torches rafting with angels’ praise
through refrains of musk earth and rosette skies,
we vow to sacred, godly rites
that flames in the wilderness will never cry.
yellow roses upon my feet, goddess of dawn
and saint of peace,
there is a lifetime of octobers gathering budding seeds,
if we feel that what is,
can be golden discovery weekends indeed.
Love Poem ( Old/ New)Contest of P.D.
They flock in groups of three
and feast on shattered molecules.
They nag at your shoestrings,
waiting
for the moment you become vulnerable.
They will gnaw at your pulsating membranes,
leave a mangled carcass,
and consider their next victim.
They thrive between the living and the dead,
unsure of which path to pursue,
and as their claws rot and
their follicles disintegrate,
they will regret every moment
of their cancerous lives.
Scissortail river running low beside the road
carrying a many weightless, little dead leaf
orange, yellow parade of patchwork vessels
passing beneath the old park bridge into shadow
I join a skipping-stone hunt along with you and June
working through silt in search for the perfect one
flat, smooth, of convex form, perfect
to soar from the surface in ricochet spin
We then each one built the tiniest of rafts
made of reeds gathered from the briar and knotted shoestrings
and away they raced, most coming upon rocks and breaking up
for only mine was somehow spared and drifted on
It too though disappeared under yonder oaken bridge
leading the cluttered cavalcade of litter and foliage
I wondered how far my raft might travel, maybe out to sea
as I trudged the mile home in laceless shoes
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.