Sticky Poems | Examples

Sticky Moisture

After the heavy downpour of yesterday
And night's quiet rest
There's a thick heavy creek rise
Giving morn a beauty that's best

Heavy dew coats late summer's grass
And all the trees and house
The creek rise adds to the mix
With wet, sticky moisture; we're doused   

I'm so blessed to live to this time
God has granted me life extended
Thank you, God, for this day
And all the good you've amended 

You gave me life and something better
Offered me salvation for my spirit
I feel inadequate but You're an uplifter
Help me to spread the Word; hear it

A Sticky Silence

A keyboard lays across my knees
like a sleeping lapdog,

The B and the K are sticky keys
that cannot bark
or pronounce their own function.

The keys are unstuck by pure alt control,
I have also trained them with a dog whistle.

Behind the plasma screen
Bach is barking
out of the mouth of a cello.

I wonder if I should wake up
the lapdog,
maybe
with a duet in B minus
for a K9 listener?

Sticky Wicket

Sticky Wicket

O molasses sticky wicket -
A groaning preached of tips malaise.
In Boston’s North, ever thicket -
O molasses sticky wicket.
Each towny hand, with no picket,
And hellfire now, they could not raise.
O molasses sticky wicket -
A groaning preached of tips malaise.

An engineer they should have used.
Epic deluge - they could not swim.
Tum’ ache of tank, shouldn’t have refused.
An engineer they should have used.
A blobbish beast, to wayward, fused.
The tank was built upon a whim.
An engineer they should have used
Epic deluge - they could not swim.

Sticky Tape

Sticky Tape

My sticky tape roll has an air of 
snobbery and 
unforgiveness about 
her.

Sticky toes

   Throw all my socks away.
   Going barefoot,
   Across the floors today.

   Momma said," Where are your socks?"

   Shrugging my shoulders,
   Throwing up my hands.
   They must have gone to sock land.

   Momma frowned,
   Looked around.
   Found a pair in her drawer,
   She thought I could wear.

   I pulled them up high,
   A pirate in tights.
   Will fight some battles.
   Lost this one to socks.

  As I slide across the floor,
  Perhaps I should have kept my socks some more.
  Sticky toes in socks,
  Almost slides out the door.

Sticky Fingers

No maker of goods or wares was he

A taker of coin that none can see

Just a cad so cool and debonair

And a pickpocket extraordinaire

He distracts his prey with rhyme and verse

And slyly smiles while stealing their purse

So eloquently recites out loud

Then quickly disappears in the crowd

City to city he makes his way

To practice his craft from day to day

Of his next victim he'll soon descend

Then scatter like ashes on the wind

Whenever you're walking down the street

And ever a chance you too will meet

If he was a gun, I'd never cock it

And if I was you, I'd check my pocket

Sticky Glue Stick

Sticky Glue Stick

An SLR camera shutter clicks
shut, sticks then opens: at a
designated shutter speed.
The subject is caught and the 
camera’s quick: like a frog
unfurling its tongue to snag
a wary fly, with its sticky tongue.
The subject is not:
sensational or outrageous
-not sticky eye candy,
not the addictive modern fare,
not titillating,
not irresistible.
Tight knit.
A “modern family” unit sits
close, huddled in transparent
body lingo-
revealing hints, though open to translation.
Wait longer than usual to process,
then 
stick pics with glue sticks 
to photo album pages.
Arrange them across and
down like inked in crossword 
puzzle solutions
-diptychs, triptychs, family trips etc.  
chronologies mark lifespan
arcs.
Baby pics, the grandparents,
the unsuspecting…
Fill to the end.
Close the album.
Shut. Then revisit,
with more pics,
and stick them inside.

Sticky Stinky

Sticky Stinky.

Like an old ugly deplumed chicken,
He! Set out few sticky stinky eggs in seven years.
The last one was in the last year.
Sticky stinky, but big.
She was proud of it
Making big  noise at noon
Bug bug bug buggagg
People ignored her & her noise
But a professional pool player
Who knows how to shoot bulls & balls
Shot her with his slim cue
Saying: damn chick! Sticky stinky big egg  in a year and  proud of it!


Written ten years ago.

Sticky Heat

It's hot, sweaty and sticky,
A cat just finds a shady place and they are not to picky.

When it's cold we always complain,
When it's hot we just do the same.

But at least when it's cold you can cover up and keep warm,
But in the heat you have to be careful it does not do you harm.

The relief from the heat usually comes in a sharp electrical storm,
The hopefully the temperature will return to the norm.

The storm comes with fat drops of rain,
Then we can look out and begin complaining again.

A Sticky Situation

There was an ice cream lover named Mickey
It dripped down his cone and got him sticky
His girlfriend, Tamarand
Tried giving him a hand
So, he asked her, "Do you want a lickey?"

Sticky Fingers

Sticky Fingers 
The first time I knew I was stupid, 
I went to kindergarten and couldn’t figure 
out how to pronounce my name. Forced
to sit on my hands, dirt caked the back
of my throat and soon turned mud as tears
slid down my cheeks. Who am I without
my mother tongue pooling like honey
in my palms? What will I learn to say 
when my fingers run dry and my voice
begs to be used? 
 
In Sign Language, certain words
do not exist. To, be, am, from, of,
are empty shells in my brain.  
And like all little deaf girls,
I was used to my hands  
molding vases to hold words
my lips have not yet learned–  
I was a potter in a room full
of musicians. 
 
When I was a kid, my mom
told me if I grew enough leaves
I’d touch the sun. In every new
syllable that kissed my tongue, 
I grew branches and roots, bark,
and sap. I fought through many winters, 
to live in this spring. And somehow the closer 
I get to the sun, the more I realize she
burns too.

Sticky Notes

Sticky notes, adhesive and bright,
Myriad colors in my sight,
In my room, they cover the walls,
Reminders of tasks, big and small.

They seem so simple, but to me,
They represent my antithesis,
A symbol of all I can't be,
Of goals unmet and missed chances.

My weary eyes scan each square,
A daily reminder of my affairs,
The notes mock me with their stare,
As if saying, "why aren't you there?"

I try to ignore them, to push away,
But they cling to me like the day,
My mind races, thoughts astray,
Caught up in the web they lay.

I wish I could toss them out,
Let go of this nagging doubt,
But they remain, without a doubt,
A constant reminder, a persistent shout.

Sticky notes, they seem so small,
But they hold me in their thrall,
A reminder of my every flaw,
A constant burden, a heavy maul.

I long for freedom, to break free,
From these notes and their decree,
To find a way to simply be,
Without the weight of my history.

But until then, I'll continue to write,
To add to my collection, day and night,
Sticky notes, adhesive and bright,
A constant reminder of my plight.

A Sticky Situation

A cook was filling honey pots
Her hand slipped, and she dropped the lot
She was in a sticky situation
Until a bear appeared, and without hesitation
He scoffed every single drop!

Like Honey Sticky Shall True Love Be-

Love Is never perfect
 yet love is sweet and pure 
clouded up like Golden Honey,
Thickish syrup spilled sticky 
And it's revelance bonding like glue
Love Is never perfect yet maybe, sticky
Warm waters heart flows loosening the glue
Honey stands still there is a true love for you out here

2/17/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022

Sticky Note

For most of her life she wanted a tattoo 
But was leery her mother might yell, gnaw and chew
The unicorn landed!
Mom won’t understand it
And Mo doesn’t know what to do!



Barclay Ann Foubert (nee Nelligan) 1956-2006
Found sticky note 

(stuck to a second sticky note)

Dear Mo,
    I don’t understand it but I realize you’re a big girl.
    I don’t have to love what you do but I love you,
    with or without decoration.

                               Love
                                    Mom ***


Funny the way memory works. I did not remember this, I only 
remembered her initial “you do these things to shock me”, that and
“what are you going to tell your grandkids about the giraffe with a bump 
 on its head”… which now I know is a quote from Joan Rivers.

 My mother loved Joan Rivers. And me, as it turns out.

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