Through thickened woods and thorny brush
I chased the elf in silenced hush
Around intoxicating pines
And mossy-covered hanging vines
Taking care to mark the way
With petals dropped from rose bouquet
My distance safe from prying eyes
And forest creatures’ wilding cries
I stalked the fairy to his lair
With visions of the gold we’d share
I’d lie in wait and pounce at will
And marvel at my stealthy skill
Finally, his hideaway
Nestled deep in green decay
Nothing left to do but wait
And dream about my wealthy fate
The leprechaun began his work
Upon his face, the strangest smirk
But still he toiled with tools and nails
Evoking lovely olden tales
He cut and stitched a dozen shoes
The crafty work, a clever ruse
For soon his suit of green did fade
Together with his sly charade
The tap, tap, tap, a lullaby
Beneath the starry moonlit sky
My dreams of fortune quickly gone
Replaced by sunny rays of dawn
The cagey man was smart and swift
And left me with a parting gift
A pair of shoes so shrewdly soled
With dazzling heels of gleaming gold
.
The Oak
Maple
Apple
each
i hear them speak
as each mine neighbors
tramp by
each their soled feeets
causing each
mine crimson leaf
their plead
"each
ouch
ouch
each"
Higgins was the worst Math teacher,
and that year I was his worse student.
Higgins had loose blubbery lips.
When he taught long division or algebra
his words were full of spit
and phlegm.
Higgins had big feet and he carried a large
thick-soled sneaker
which he threw at slow thinkers
It hurt
especially if hit by it 3 times in one lesson,
especially since we had to pick the damn thing up
and hand it back to him
especially when he loomed over you glaring,
daring you to be a wiseass.
Higgins was really very big
his massive form always intimating
to young minds.
Mostly I just doodled his form
on my school math book.
Happy to flunk any test of his.
Once I drew him naked,
his fat backside bouncing on the back
of a spavined mule.
Underneath this masterpiece I wrote
'It hurts don't it?'
Sadly he had snuck up behind me
too late
I felt his hot breath
drooling down the back of my neck.
Higgins was hit by a bus,
but that was years later.
When I heard
I felt sorry for the bus.
A pilgrim's shoes are laced with faith
if soled with doubt, nails fall out
The journey requires not stick, but staff
his offering ~ a tender calf
Rumbling in my mind
The song of Arleen Hurtado
Trying to get into a Spanish mood
As I gaze at the flamingo dancer,
Dressed in black flaming wide dress.
Hear her castanets, clicking in rhythm
To the background of classical guitars
And the occasional shouts of Ole`.
Yes I can see her, steel soled shoes
Tapping on sturdy wood. She twirls,
Her dress inflated in a sensual dance,
Until she enters in a tocatta festiva.
Silently she taps as she lifts her dress,
Slowly revealing her beautiful legs,
And down again to recommence her twirl.
The audience go mad in applause.
She merely bows and retires to her room.
I’m there waiting for her.
"Tripping the Light Fantastic"
Dance?
She said,
romancing
the lost agenda
You’re so
left
sold
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
“Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!
Bird thou never wert,
That from Heaven, or near it,
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.”
sold
soled
souled
I had grown to hate the sounds
Incessant insanity inside the impotence of an ICU
Blinding white lights humming like the buzz of a thousand bees
growing in Spring's embrace
Intimate heartbeats echoed by innocent chirps, drifting from a faceless machine
Monotonous sounds of mechanical air pounding like an aquatic bass drum
Pressing against my ears…my soul
Tender soled shoes of the nightingales coming and going
Touching you only with their caring eyes
Nothing left for them to do
Desperate cries of unknown faces roam past the glass door
Kindred spirits broken by the uncertainty of certainty
Sitting behind glass walls waiting as I wait
Listening to the seconds
Tick tick tick
I had grown to hate the sounds until…
They turned them off
Have you ever heard the dying song of a ventilator
When the need has vanquished forever
Dead air
Worn Out Jeans
When dungarees came on the scene
these sturdy pants were meant to wear
soon late the names were changed to Jeans
they faded and begun to tear
then we would buy another pair
a new punk culture had emerged
the Jean took on another role
the price on worn out jeans had surged
and ladies bought despite their dole
to think there was a time that passed
when shoes were soled to make them last
shoe repair gone just like the wheel
but worn out jeans are back in style
just stop and think and wait awhile
buy new jeans and begin to slice
resell them worn three times the price
RalphSergi ©
April 12, 2019
Weekend wanderlust, backwoods trail tramping
Accesorized with well-heeled, hard-soled boots
Forrest frolicking, overnight camping
Freefalling footsteps connect to grassroots
Lost in labyrinth of lengthy commutes
Energized inboard engine outpaces
Scavenger hunting and other pursuits
Tieing up loose ends with taut bootlaces
Observing the touch of untouched places
Muddy meanderings, dry diversion
Pathway erases bootprint/ retraces
Exiting road-less-taken-excursion
Rejuivenated, (much to my liking)
Striking campfire desire for more hiking
Hopes not dead
God has said
Believe in Him and there shall be
Loves not lost
It's at no cost
Believe in Him and you shall be given
Eternal life
Don't be fraid
of what you've said
Repent and believe
And receive what God's offering
A child of God
Forgiven
Never let the sun go down on your wrath
Don't be soled
not even boiled
For angers not the way
Be silent
Be silent and pray
09/21/07
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
Crawling along the sidewalk,
his tiny legs wiggling along
with his wriggling, squiggly body,
he creeps me out!
If he survives the elements
or the stampede of hard-soled monster feet
upon his too-soft squishy body,
he will perform a disappearing act!
Spewing sticky strands
from glands near his mouth,
he twists himself into an ugly shell
hidden and hanging from a common twig.
Shedding skin, he slowly reveals
his chrysalis self.
At last,
his inner beauty, that rare beauty in disguise,
will have changed before our amazed eyes
into the colorful radiant wings
of a splendid butterfly!
Written Jan. 4, 2016 and pretty much my only free verse so far this year!
Another older post.....funny how some material things represent success....these red-soled shoes certainly do exactly that to many women, including my grandddaughter (maybe she'll get a pair if she graduates from med school)- so here's to my girl and what I know goes through her mind when she sees picture of "Christian Louboutin's"
One word is all that comes to mind-
As I hear the tapping of heels on pavement,
Christian Louboutin, the slayer of all shoes,
I see the smooth black leather studded pumps,
The tiny details of his red soles catch my eye,
I know when I wear them I will raise my head up high,
Rarely do people disapprove,
Always sold in pairs – that’s two,
I know one day I’ll own a few,
Christian Louboutin, the slayer of all shoes!
One picture is all that comes to mind-
When I see the soles of a special kind,
I kick my feet up high,
Longing for the day when I can wear those heels with pride,
Makeup, hair, and nails all match,
My red soles and I can never be detached,
The sight of a deep red,
It is what I’ve tattooed in my head,
Permanently stitched into my view,
Christian Louboutin, the slayer of all shoes!
He traipsed toward my face.
My grey, imperious majesty.
Impervious to strong fingers
and rubber-soled feet
His face set, hard as my stone,
bearing a load as heavy as avarice,
hungry comes my challenger.
This conqueror of realms,
remains of breakfast travelling on his lips
My unshaven face looks down upon
this approacher, encroacher. Poacher
of the peaks and the torrs.
I am the absorber of shadows and
giver of light. Bringer of Sunday School
picnics and kites that catch the wind
Faced with this venal subterfuge,
my draw bridge is raised, my
crevices inaccessible.
My many jagged limbs,
created by the sea and the wind.
I am the perfect lure to the foolish
and the last sightof the dying
I cast my gaze upon the mirrored sea,
my only neighbour, whose waters hold
firm under the weight of the working boats.
Bows powerless to escape the tension of her surface
You see me as rock. But, I see you too.
I see the fear coursing through your veins
like a virulent disease. A Flea upon my chest
almost every day
before the sun’s first blinding ray
clouds are touched by warmest hues
displaying their splendid red-soled shoes
each a ship of cumulus shape
far and high their tops will scrape
grayness off the blue domed sky
heralded by a thousand birds dry
inching up the growing screen
jostling as they puff and preen
kissing heads of other domes
lovingly writing sky-based poems
moving all in unison now
nodding and bobbing with furrowed brow
opening a soft thunderous throat
passing over hill and valley’s moat
quickly gathering a soft grey weight
rain and wind inevitable fate
slowly moving across the land
together to make a final stand
up in the tops of the tallest heads
violet lightning neon glow spreads
wind now touches and bends the trees
x-rayed by white lightning sprees
you can almost see the insects flee
zooming over the earth with glee
forgotten sound
of a father's voice,
only a fond memory of English Leather,
faces of children
not one's remembered,
melancholia captioned,
while snared in long wars
bereft of true glory,
cordite charred, world weary,
heavy hearted,
heavy handed,
heavy lidded,
minutes whip past
like a lash on raw skin,
gilded ages burst like flack,
eons too much when unwelcome
too little too soon,
moments spent like carnival tokens,
spin cycle of life
a kaleidoscope swoon,
awaken to dotage,
snippets of melodies
riffing toe tapped,
younger days, younger legs,
when life was as simple
as a pair of rubber soled shoes,
leg tapped,
tap away.
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