Splints Poems | Examples

Doorstep

I am the door she ran through;
Broken, off the hinges, jammed in place 
I lie on the floor that once brushed off my shoulders 
Unable to move as I stare at the ceiling 
Watching her walk away as she steps over me 
For, I was just an obstacle for her to clear 
Life's view is narrowed by my perspective 
Looking for a quick pick me up 
My dead weight is too heavy for the weak to lift 
Easy has left me when difficult moved in 
I need to fix my splints and oil my hinges

Royal Rumble

Characters in action
Talents in multiplication
Shapes and sizes of many version
Skills on display with tension

Over the top ropes one would gape
Under the ropes one can escape
Apron of thick mattress
Arena of countless matches

Highlighted are dressed to kill
Fronting the crowd that fill
Seats of spectators that cheer
Feats of competitors, not jeer

Matches roll with blunder
Rumbling and grappling like thunder
Crutches and splints spread over
Bodies of the bruised fall over

Grueling matches live on
Under any pressure show must go on
It's not "business as usual" that linger
Players of theatrics in danger

Venues are slated by dates
Participants stipulated as mates
Previews of expected bouts
Reviews that excite and shouts

Year after year is the Rumble
Inside the ring that crumble
Event that sounds so noble
Fame, not fortune that bubble

A prelude to Wrestlemania
An interlude of regalia
A shot coveted in spotlight
A spot asserted with delight

Let's get ready to rumble!...

This Only Tree

Once a tree 
That walked as man
Tasting breezes moved 
In seed with currents 
Tossed to churning seas
Branching footprints 
Sinking upward 
In a breath 
Of stars and moon.
Time the poison potion taken
For bones excused as broken splints
Shadows walking sideways into suns
Anchored belly born to new eclipse
Voices silent spoke of him 
Without a sound from lips
Tongue to tongue 
Tasting flakes of kissing snows
Trapped and bleeding 
With the chore of laughter 
From each gun,
Wandering songs unsung;
Nocturnal dramas lavish hand
Stopping all external movement,
Breaking in a bended way 
All bodies lost - 
Like hot fists pounding in summer sand
Like lost hopes sifted, drifting
Blowing through the fingers of each hand,
And he will walk as man 
Once before, 
Again.

Decayed Faith

When churches of honor decay

                    Mired in cynicism's wet glue

                    She splints the feet of hobbled faith

                    To believe as the unbroken do.


          
9/27/20

For 'Writing Challenge - Decay' contest
Sponsor: Constance La France

Nuzzled

Nuzzled in the splints of light
that turn to neon felt tipped butterfly mist
of the street light hugging night

Only I, Have the Key

I open and close my stiff cold hands,
and look down at what my pen has spilled;
my hands ache from decades of writing,
my many pages are totally filled.

Electric jolts stab at my fingers,
and my writing is dead and tingling;
I put on my ugly, clumsy splints,
and send my words to go a mingling.

And mingling, mingling far and far,
soon, I hear the snakes come creeping;
to tear apart-  destroy my words,
the cobra asp came while I was sleeping.

Then, came the unblinking viper asp,
all the night my poetry they devoured;
each word that my pen had let fall,
and in the morning they left-  a coward.

Perhaps the asp thinks this is power,
that they are cunning and will break me;
that I will fall in beautiful broken pieces,
but I have courage and only I, have the key.

_______________________
April 29, 2018


Poetry/Quatrain/Only I, Have The Key
Copyright Protected, ID 18- 1018-003-01
All Rights Reserved.  Written Under Pseudonym.


Written for the contest, Asp
sponsor, Anthony Slausen

Fourth Place

Sold Out

Since I saw you,
I've had this hope live in me.
That everything that isn't needed be gone. 
The details of sales papers, shopping carts.
The ease of temptation. 
Standing still.
To fill my cart full of things I don't need.
Coffee rings, free samples.
The debris of reality. 
Strings and paper slings around baked goods.
Shopping around facedown.
Pushing the cart row after row.
The things on sale.
The pings of the register.
Splints that aren't necessarily the object we've come face to face with.
Jamaican rum.
Our fingerprints used in vain
The residue from coffee pots and things we've touched.
Bottled, sealed tight.
Fresh water springs.
Still we pursue. 
I pursue.
Your carefree sensibility. 
I've walked every row in search.
Where have you gone,
Withdrawn

Shall This Cold Bring Only You To My Mind

Shall this cold bring you only to my mind
Less I will not forgive it for disrupting the night
That you are in such untouchable distance is of prime
And that this cold shall make my passion cry
These droplets that enfeeble this body of mine
Brings forth journeys of wingless flight
In such obligation, it must bring me to you
And place me beside you all night through
And place you beside me till the dawn dues
Else then this droplets I shall consider measly:
For then they seem as agents of jealousy
Against my peaceful night and slumber
Let this storm bring us together
In some ways; in dreams or wonders
For your warmth is full of such embers
That blazes the heart and the body
And splints the eyes and fingers
Then consumes the soul wholly

The Break

Why do you want to leave me standing alone
the once happy home, now half the throne
we stood together through thick and thin
the beautiful duo, together forever
walks in the park, dancing after dark
the love was golden we once shared 
I felt the eyes of envy, what a beautiful pair
now you leave me feeling the despair
stepping off this way, I can't explain my pain
lying here broken, crying in shame.
why did you have to be the first
to touch me this way 
joy of once love, now you displace
was it my cat like eyes that frightened you away
was it the confidence my walk displayed
that blurred my vision that dreadful day 
I had fallen once before, but never this way
I let my guard down thinking you'd carry me always
today the disappointment is right in my face
but I will survive, I won't be defeated, maybe another day
I will stand strong, I will walk tall
I will never let the splints you cast keep me down.
I will heal in just 6 to 8 weeks. 
A brand new ankle
I hope you will remember me.
"The Break"

A Fisherman's Tale

A Fisherman’s Tale


Out o’gloom, her pale siege comes to menace our humble dwell
I look to celeste fix, yet no stark smile to traverse me
So I grip my girl, now graceful, as she slides in churn swell

My girl’s effete bones shiver, I hold hand tight, she begs flee
‘No my love’, so steel she plough’s on fierce, ice slapping her cheeks
I plea for celeste fix!....  yet no stark smile to traverse me

Enraged, her howls come screaming! shakes my lass ‘till skin comes weak
I say ‘be farer my girl’, shy, she tries turn forth our scow
‘No my love!’.... so bold she ploughs on fierce, ice slapping her cheeks

Her fury hurls, first flot then ice floe… splints… fly from loves brow!
Marred…. lets cry! bones cleft, I whisper ‘we have each other now’
I say ‘be brave my girl’, so steel, she try’s keep float our scow

I slide aged hand across my beautiful salt licked bough
Out o’gloom, her pale siege came, broke apart our humble dwell
Marred tried ‘vain, bones cleft, I whispered…. ‘we have forever now’
So I sooth my love…. now peaceful…. as we slide in churn swell.

Perpetual Commuter Struggle

Stuck in a gargantuan feedback loop
Insentive truckers smash turtle shells
Squirrels sprawled with concrete entrails
Gleaming windshields refracting might
Dull relation just business is right

Scratching the ceiling of my nerve
Making blood curdle vengeance fertile
In shell shocked shin splints rampage

Remember to breathe as the poisons pass
As parasities arachnophobe their fist clenched dreams

Ill just stride and take my time
Pride is futile immortal hallucination
As the sun weaves her way
Ill make my escape and take my place

Surgery

Merrily merrily I say unto thee
It's time to go in for surgery!
Anesthesia pumping through my veins; knocked out for forty five
Oh please oh please do not let me die
Post-op's a *****, tortuous at that
Splints in my nose, feeling so whack
But **** it I say, this could be more dire
It could be worse, I could be on fire!

A Dilema Can You Help

I am invited to a posh do
But I don’t want to go
I don’t have any shoes
There’s not many people know

Shoes and me, do not mix
My only pair is ten years old
And now I am in a fix

They were bought for a wedding
But I was ill and never went
But now my shoes will not fit
On the new splint they have sent.

It is a Lords and Ladies do
My title I do have
But shoes, no I don’t 
And now I’m feeling bad.

I wear trainers everywhere
They fit on all my splints
I can’t do any dancing
Not even a short stint.

What do I do girls, should I even go? 
Or get out of it again 
That’s what I really need to know


I do not dress up ever
Because I have no shoes
But tiara and trainers
Is a look no-one wants to use.

I even got married in trainers, all covered in silk
Its not pity from you, that I am trying to milk.

Just what would you girls do?
If invited to posh do’s,
But looking in your wardrobe
You find you don’t have any shoes.

Trust

He stands somewhere
between
     football depravity
and
     butterfly nighttime kisses ~
soccer shin splints
and
     lilac blooms perfuming
his dreams and unpatience.

He knows of loss and
    death
         spine bending
               penance ceaseless.

He writes with quiet introspection
and
    bloody chaos and
         confusion
tempered
with
    devotion and steadfast commitment.

He found me drowning.
     Picked me up
and
carried me
     uncomplaining
of the added weight.

Before me stands the meaning
     of the love
         of a friend.
Trustworthy.

Living Ruins

In my life
I have seen many trails of tears
I have seen nightmares
And I beat the odds

The odds are still mounting
Everyday they grow
And I am tired
I do not think I can win this time

I was once a fierce person
I could do anything
I could survive anything
I was special

And things happened
Like beating an iron door with a hammer
Repeatedly beating to no end
Then dents appear

I am broken
My body is old like an elder waiting to die
It houses my spirit
But can no longer  protect

I live seeing through the cracks
Standing in the dust of the rubble
Supporting my sides with canes
Keeping my hands safe with splints

• Short Splints Poems
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