Short Knee High Poems

A sigh
through silent grass 
at noon, as knee-high green 
falls down in tangles. Then again
silence....

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Spring buds like
Popcorn bursting along
The knee-high grass of glade green
While winds over oceans blow free
On the face of the empire sun...

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“in the asterlife”


as the corn
was knee-high 
on the 4th of July

it came 
to pass on
Michaelmas

ducks 
did swim
thus on this

Christmas
they’ll
slide...

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Outwardly I may seem like an outgoing guy
But if the truth be known, I'm really quite shy
It's all a big act
To counteract
The shyness I've had since to a grasshopper I was knee high...

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Janet went out, saw the grass was knee high
Hard she pushed, mower out and it did die.
With a kick start, all went blur
Nursing her coco liqueur
Running over neighbor's cat that went by.


6/2/2022...

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On a Path through knee-high heathers
Stumbled, scraped, suddenly seeing
Moonlit form in noiseless View;
Raven's eyes of Crimson hue.
Caw and stretch the Midnight feathers!
Extraordinary, blurry, Ancient measures
Sounding you, approaching closer:
Startled wings alighting further....

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Jacob

Jacob was my second grandson
And has been a “Mama's Boy” since birth.
Cute expressions and cuddly disposition captures hearts.
Observes everything and starts the “brain wheels” turning.
Barely “knee-high-to-a-grasshopper”… but power packed!

© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
February 1, 2010

Poetic form: Name...

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Barbie parades in revealing garb
Flirting and conversing
With beckoning eyes,
Herself a laugh
From the past.
Lined face and dyed hair
As she attempts to be
The symbol of youth
That was advertised
And photographed
In knee high boots
And satin hot pants;
Her shiny-capped teeth
Are revealed by the smile not
Reaching her eyes
And facelifts that
Don't hide her age....

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I follow the track with a spectacular view,
into a wood with its carpet blue.
A winding path to the field below 
through an ancient green lane where primroses grow.
I watch a swallow swoop and pass 
above a meadow lush with grass.
Quench my thirst in dapple shade 
midst waving stalks which seed,then fade.
Homeward I wend in loosestrife knee high 
alongside a stream trickled dry....

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Love is a fickle thing
When your needs aren’t met.
Straying is an option,
But not for the faithful.
They believe in the words once spoken.
Deep roots embedded for generations.
Modeled for those knee-high and older.
To have healthy, safe love.
Who seek the truth behind those not vulnerable.
Desirable, affectionate, and successful they will be
Tired from all the love they’ll receive....

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Fresh opened plastic,
  unstretched elastic.
Crew cut, solid white.
  Knee high, gray on white.
Wal-mart bag, home that night.
  Days go by, what a sight.
Wash the socks from the box,
  dry them now, match them up.
Not too long to realize
  something's up.
I search and search,
  then give up.
Crew cut solid white,
  gray on white, knee high.
My head goes back,
  out comes a sigh....

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Children’s laughter
Filled the morning air

Children were playing
And racing big wheels
Up and down the block

I was all of two or three
And just learning to walk
& take my very first step

I was knee high to a flee
And starting my first year 
At westminister ave school

I was swinging with my sister
& doing back flips of the swing
Down at the bottom of our street

This poem is based on 
memories as kid back when...

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Children’s laughter
Filled the morning air

Children were playing
And racing big wheels
Up and down the block

I was all of two or three
And just learning to walk
& take my very first step

I was knee high to a flee
And starting my first year 
At westminister ave school

I was swinging with my sister
On doing back flips of the swing
Down at the bottom of our street


All this is based on memories
From way back when as a kid...

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I remember the time it rained twelve times
Tar weed wasn't that sticky
Knee high grass held parts like old mens hair
The wind blew opposite that season
Birds seemed silenced and confused,Thier courtship stalled
Old swaybacks ribs were not pronounced
Gravel streets held water as children walked to school
Wasted smell of mothers pies lost in heavy air
Watchfull mountains laughed aloud,taunting to come out
Not this year it rained twelve times
Not this year...

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We can live in little boxes in the hills
baby that's what I call the  life
Cheap champagne thrills
Skin sticking to the fake leather backseat of your car drunk on your sweet sweat
Up all night waffle house coffee
Lost in admiration,  hanging on your dimestore philosophy 
This love smells like vinyl
 flannel shirts in the sunset 
walking through the knee high grass
We never got to sit high on that hillside, every time I turned around you got further away




...

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No name appears on my stone
there are no flowers strewn
grasses grows knee high
full of thorny brambles

How did this come to pass
that so soon I am forgotten
no longer in memories am I
no one tends to my grave

Yet but a few short years
have passed since my death
my name once on many lips
now only sighed by the wind
as it passes my resting place

Now, forsaken, forgotten
out of sight and out of mind
nothing now remains of me
just my crumbling bones
moulder away deep in the earth...

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