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Roman Pavel Sep 2
The only thing that can surpass the grandness of my intellect, is my unrelenting naivety
The only wisdom I lack, is that of experience
I assume all the things that I neglect, in my late latency
But, lately I attest, I’m quit definitely delerious

I want to build grand monuments to loved ones, but I’ve never been an engineer
Pass down grand teachings to my sons
Yet I’ve never been a father, in any year

I wish to love a woman, like no woman has ever been loved before
To tell her irrelevant stories, and only store memories in the drawer.
To take her to places she hasn’t heard of before or even seen.
Create! The things that she can adore and make the chaos serene

I am no fool, I know what I want.
I desire commitment, I long for Freedom and independence
I decided her love for me; I’ll proudly flaunt
But, internally keep it secret, to nurture my own dependence

One day, she noticed that her love for me was gone
And all the little things she loved about me, all of the quirks, and unintentional foolery
Had turned into insufferable character traits, and puzzling conversations
She no longer loved me, and I love her still.

But, I could not love her, the way she wanted to be loved and cared for
And eventually she could not love me as well
She needed to be loved, but only from a distant shore
Her love, in kind, I could not compel

I need to say a million things to you, tell you how I feel, show you how I hurt, and imply what I desire.
I wish to scream, loudly and often, let the air wash away the bitterness from my lips, and try to rekindle the fire.

But, instead. I stay silent, and act benign
And when asked… I say : “I’m doing fine”
mark john junor Sep 2022
Wrapped in the warm
prison of the bedsheets
a cold foot sneaks past
and dangles in the air at the
end of the bed

I shiver like sailors of old
in this cold wind that blows
across my toes

I wrestle the blanket
for the sleep it maintains
all elbows and thumbs
****** this way and that
restless wanderers of designer sheets

I shiver like sailors of old
in this cold wind that blows
across my toes

As I grumble
look to the clock
Four AM glares back at me
a cold foot wiggles
a cold foot waggles
Ode to be a cold foot
sorrowful tale to be sure

I shiver like sailors of old
in this cold wind that blows
across my toes
Dylan McFadden Dec 2021
Hallways of hell
Must be
Littered with Lego's...

Have you ever stepped on a Lego?
Sarah Robinson Sep 2021
Sometimes I think of selling pictures of my feet online
I immediately think of the state of my feet;
The state of me.
After conforming to your dress code of black dress shoes and shattered dreams For 11 long years.
For 11 long years
I sat in rows of grey white and black
Perfectly poised in the presence of our educators
Our guardians
Our wardens.
If we deigned to relax,
They would find more to give and give and give
Until we became nothing but frayed nerves
And therapy bills
That should be addressed to our parents
And then I think
I can’t sell pictures of my feet online,
How could I correctly value them
If I don’t correctly value myself?
Mark Wanless Feb 2021
the circle complete
squirrel foot prints in deep snow
blossoms memory
Left Foot Poet Jul 2020
my cutter,
my body, her cutting board

sliced by tongue and fingernail,
any handy human implement,
she sculpts me to
her eye's reconfiguring delight

grabs my wrist,
and my face
in her hands grasp-embraced

unblemished once,
now becomes all scarred tissued,
no guise, no lies, no bearded mask,
no disguise - all forsaken

hidden hardened skin,
speckled red/white translucent,
she kisses with adoration her
heart designed
objet d'art

no better blade than she,
with every cut,
transformed, she becomes
my devotee,
I, her escapee,
I am her, she is me,
inseparable, my every command,
she obeys

for our love
cuts both ways
Left Foot Poet Jun 2015

Vanilla Extract

under extreme duress,
word-boarding extreme,
she issues up reluctantly a true confess

her secret ingredient
in everything is
vanilla extract

where do you source this
in quantities so ample,
keep it well hid,
for all I see
after cupboard investigatory
solitary tiny brown bottle
shelved alone, forlornly?

wearing a vanilla smile,
that persists for quite the while,
she crinkly eyed laughs

“I extract vanilla
nearly everyday,
for when I awake to a
fresh poem from a poet
who loves me,
I draw all the vanilla out,
then feed it back to him
in the foods I supply,
so his poetry is for ever
Poetic T Mar 2020
You said I was the only step,
       but you always took one


Never walking us forward,
   excuses, like I had to tie my laces,
         or my feet ache you walk on.

But I never looked back,
and you never moved forward.

We were a distance apart but I'd only
                  took one more step than

But one can equal more when its
not synchronized with your heart.

The next day, you had walked off,
  we weren't even walking in the same

I took of the shoes I wore when we walked,
                and now I'm bare foot.

But you know what I'm walking further without


My perception isn't clouded by your backward

I'm free to walk without the pleasure
           of having to look backwards..

Just walking onward  without pausing to see
                           who cares how far my footsteps

have wondered,.

I'm strolling at my own pace
                                  passing with no goodbyes.
Zoey Trope Nov 2019
Careful as you unlace
The delicate ribbons of leather
Separating my skin from your lips
'Lincoln Park After Dark' is the shade
Of dark that fills your hungry mouth
The lips I know and love
Feel even better on the most hidden part of my body
Take your time
With each lick
And keep your hunger for me
Until I kiss you good night
Left Foot Poet Jul 2015
for our children and their children

the reason we say so oft,
in whispers emboldened,

I love you

to our children
is not the utility of
its summarizing brevity

no, no.
it is because

the eloquence of simplicity
supersedes any other poem
we could ever write...

July 26 2015
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