Short Gloved Poems

Gloved hands deep in soil,
       Searching to uproot new seed
              Birth to life to death....

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Gloved Hand

It's winter time and
My hands are cold covering
them up with warm gloves

12/11/17
by James Edward Lee Sr....

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Down by the rock pools
My hand gloved in your wrinkles
New discoveries
Starfish, crabs and mermaids purse,
Squirting sea anenomes....

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Fountain of blood
It’s the new accessory
To a uniform I must return
Burned into my gloved hand
My number was up
And that’s why I don’t write poems with 13 lines...

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Life today a silent game of Russian Roullette
Masked, gloved, unarmed a trip to a public 
Place a sneeze, a cough, a bit of smegma
And Covid19 silently end all to Life....

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brimmed eyes 
squinting against the noon brightness.
gloved hands 
wiping the salty drops away.
denim moving
with the lankiness beneath.
strong lines
rising as the maul swings...

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What more than a whisper of wind
   can we demand on a starry night
With strains of violins in the background
   and a velvet-gloved waiter 
                          ~ to take our order...

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Kestrel holds on the gloved hand, releases
  flies away, faces wind 
dives, catches his small prey  

03/12/23
Contest: Writing Challenge 'K' Words
Sponsor: Constance La France
Checked with HowManySyllables.com...

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Gypsy girl
	Witch woman
		Pirate queen

Pink-gloved flapper
	Ferocious faerie
		Mother Earth

Belly dancer
	Super Woman
		Las Vegas Show Girl

Cheerleader
	Wolf Woman
		Egyptian Queen

Tree Woman
	My paintings 
		Have a certain theme...

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Mid 60's brother's band
I am a gloved "scab" on bongos and
helter skelter on county fair drums
They play their backyard hearts out
my summer of learning all instruments
Music, playing parties of various venues 
two lifelong brotherly loves.
Thanks Denny....

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He spreads his lordly cape to slow his descent, gloved talons softly gripping metal throne, his obsidian pallium opulent and ominous. Empowered by wonder and awe, I swallow fear, holding the chthonic messenger’s gaze

Curiosity binds us
The vigilant Seraphim turns...

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I CRUMBLED YOUR LEAVES
WITH GLOVED HANDS
AND MIXED THE RESIDUE WITH SAND
I PLANTED MY COLLARDS AND KALE
MY TURNIPS AND HORSRADISHES
SOME WERE IN THE PALE
I CRUMBLED YOUR PRETTY LEAVES
SO THAT THEY MIGHT NURISH MY PLANTS
COMPSOE IN THESE SANDS
FOOD FOR MY PLANTS!...

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Some days are heavy, others are not, but still
the same footsteps are tread none the less.
Gloved fingers essential in the biting cold.
Hands firmly gripped on the bundle.
Retrieve a signature; recorded mail.
Specials delivered by 1pm.
Last letter posted.
Cuppa needed!
Homebound....

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"Will you write for me?" she asked.
"Will you be there when
the silver-gloved hand of night
closes the sky?"
The chatter of magpies
never ceases as their wings
brush against the door.
Run, run to the closet of your heart,
and put on your treasure-jewels.
It's never too late to dress up....

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"Will you write for me?" she asked.
"Will you be there when
the silver-gloved hand of night
closes the sky?"
The chatter of magpies
never ceases as their wings
brush against the door.
Run, run to the closet of your heart,
and put on your treasure-jewels.
It's never too late to dress up....

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Heads bowed, shoulders stooped
  Gloved hands, facemasks in place
The sorry souls who venture out
  Seem not part of the human race

Their features covered
  Their spirits smothered
Lurid figures stalk grocery aisles
  An eerie pall hovers over the scene
Foreboding, haunted, surreal Halloween...

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Extract crimson hope, ruthless needles
Distract my dark thoughts, bleeding ink
Contact sanitized gloved sensations
Contract, as cancerous demons shrink

Dew pretty mornings carry fever
Blue icepacks chase lush, littered heat
Too many germs lurk everywhere - our
New normal household, bittersweet

1/26/20...

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two walk hand in hand
down the frozen streets. 
couples in their home warmed by fires,
but the two bundled up so close, yet so far, selfishly holding back their warmth.
no room for the energy to pass through gloved hands.
and so they walk, not feeling how their souls ripped apart and the last of their love fading....

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a garden is a work of art
    conceived with gloved, wrinkled hands
  a home for fragrant specimens
    for mists, for rain, for brilliant sun  

  yet when the weather turns, so do blooms
    from rich perfumes to withered tombs
  so clasp tight my hand, retreat indoors
    to dream of sun-splashed greener shores...

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At the sound of the bell,
the boxing arena trembles;
the crowd's maniacal roar
explodes as a thunderclap.

Blood-crazed predators,
these gloved gladiators;
fiercely glaring, rushing,
breathing murderous rage.

Altar of wealth, vanity,
hurried sign of the cross,
hastily mumbling to God
of mercy...a bloodied prayer!...

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Conceiving virtue's mending,
spells the view
in careful words unending,
seeing you!

The bridgework, as a blending
links we two
the road, so apprehending
is askew!

My eyes once gloved in blindness,
find renew
and send these fingers rampart,
to remove -

Hypocrisies contending,
yea uncouth -
The sight of you begotten
....seems all truth!...

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Ride brush, 
     stray search.
Sit high,
     leather perch.

Lasso thrown,
     dally wrapped.
Wind howls,
     brim flapped.

Chaps warm,
     gloved hand.
Twenty years,
     ride brand.

Spurs jingle,
     double rowel.
Heading home,
     round corral.

By Jim "Ish" Fellers
Copyright ©: August 06, 2003
Wednesday @ 1:40 a.m....

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the crawling
trash-eating growlers
empty the jettison
of 7 days

strong limbs and gloved hands
heave and haul
tip-over the unwanted tangle
of unmindful chaos

the machine chews loudly

time to go
drag the empty black bins
back into their secluded caves

time to make eggs and bacon
to drop once more
rinds and shells
into plastic landfills


...

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Sky lightening up
flares and flashes
arching high above

Pretty sparklers in
kids gloved hands
waving circling

Loud bangs from rockets
as they explode showering
multi bands of colour

Catherine wheels
spinning round
a visual delight

Guy on top of bonfire
soon is well ablaze
warming cold hands

Display now done
kids head for bed
to dream of it again...

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The orange cool in my hands
blood orange open in the moonlight
breathing in the fresh scent
the juices savory stroke my lips
blood orange open in the moonlight
plump and painted red in my hand
the juices savory stroke my lips
gloved by stippled orange skin 
plump and painted red in my hand
breathing in the fresh scent
gloved by stippled orange skin
The orange cool in my hands...

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