"bunions" poems
These are my knees
Lord
Cracked in a daily attempt to win your affection
These are my hands
Dear Jesus
Callused by one another in an oft futile longing for an answer
This is my throat
All Mighty God
Made rasp and torn from a constant calling of your praises
This is my neck
Oh Holiest of Holies
Strained in a forever upward gaze searching nightly for a sign
And these are my eyes
Son of God
Charged with searching for you in the stars
With directing my feet towards the purpose you have given me
Oh Lord
These are my eyes thought blinded after years of failing to find my path in the constellations
But blind these eyes are not
Oh Sacred Lamb
For these eyes
Creator of all that is good
See the bunions on these feet from a lifetime of walking atop your great magnificent earth
In an effort to survive
And these knuckles Carpenter of Nazareth
Are bloodied by the labors of man, for men, for the service of man's world
And this tongue, not of Satan, but of your creation
Oh Lord
Is twisted in a defense of my undying devotion to your love and to your empathy
And this back
Oh Heavenly Father
Has been made *******
Not from the weight of your cross in an attempt to share the burden of your sacrifice
No Lord
This back is broken from the weight of being a father to man
From the burden of society
And from the weight of the home I keep
Though I would never
Lord
Son of God
Question your ways
As mysterious as they seem
As they are your ways
Creator
Guiding Light of Man
Nor would I have the gal to belittle the accomplishments of our Savior the Lord Jesus Christ
I must ask with my knees planted firmly in the earth
My hands clasped
And my gaze towards you
Oh Lord
Son of God
Holy Shepherd
What good are the golden streets of heaven if my feet can not walk them
And what of the beauty in the pearly gates if my back can not afford the strength to open them
And lord how could I ever face you if my knees
The knees from which I pray
Oh Holiest of Holies
Creator of the moon and the stars the heavens and the earth
How could I ever face you if my knees can no longer kneel before the feet of my King
I could never
I would rather stand in the face of Lucifer himself
Than fail to kneel before the will of my God
For that I could never do
And what then
Lord
What would you have of me then
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 3:16 AM UTC
The flickering light of the lantern’s flame
lays lightly upon the lingering stream.
I do not know where the water leads,
but I’ll drink my fill till the aches subside.
The moss grows rampant among the trees
in this mighty forest that eyes have forgot.
And still I sit, watching it grow
until the words in the songs of birds grow clear.
The heartbeat of the soil slowly churns
beneath my bunions and well-traversed heels.
The sky won’t fall, so I have time to wait.
Just like the ferry, tethered to the old dying walnut.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 3:01 PM UTC
Just...Stop
Stop wishing away the lines on your face.
Every line means you smiled!
Stop wishing away your stretch marks.
For every one of them there is a grateful child.
Stop wishing away those extra pounds.
It means you have food to eat.
Stop wishing away your corns and bunions.
It means you have shoes to put upon your feet.
Stop wishing away your grey hair!
It means you've had many years to enjoy life.
Stop wishing away imperfections,
perceived by others lies.
There is someone out there
who sees you
as perfect in their eyes!
Badges of Courage!
Not shame.
Please...
Stop wishing them away.
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 5:59 AM UTC
You'd better call her before you ask her out and see if her voice is cute over the phone
Sometimes when I sleep I tangle my fingers in my hair and pretend they're not mine
But not this morning
today I'm content with my fingers intertwined with my own
I'm not lonely, probably because I need to ***
If I was brave enough, would this be enough?
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 7:38 PM UTC
What if Snow White and Sleeping Beauty
Never woke up?
Prince Charming was detained;
the dwarfs and fairies ran out of ideas
Hope disappeared at the first bite and *****
What if Cinderella's shoe never fit?
Swollen bunions or a twisted ankle
hindered the sparkling slipper
the Prince went away discouraged
And Cinderella was stuck, forever in the cinders
Happily Ever After.
What every little girl wants.
A fairy tale ending, with stars in the sky
the credits start to roll, leaving you with a smile
Pleasant dreams, dancing princesses in your mind
I hate to burst your bubble, but -
Some nights, princesses just don't feel like dancing.
Sometimes, they'd rather stay at home
spend the night alone at once,
the weight of their world on their shoulders
Princes can cause more stress than joy
Evil stepmothers never really disappear
Most mirrors won't tell you what you want to hear
leaving most of us girls disillusioned and dazed
in that moment we discover we're living
a Happily Never After.
Jul 19, 2011
Jul 19, 2011 at 6:40 PM UTC
If Rex Ryan got the nod
and was cast as Cindy’s prince.
The play would run much longer
than it had before or since.
When the royal decree went out
To the maidens of the land
To display their pedicures
Rex would be close at hand.
He would visit every maiden
and some hottie matrons too.
Caressing Paula’s bunions
And sniffing Jennie’s shoe..
And when he got to Cindy’s shack,
He’d take her feet in hand
And ease the pain she suffered
last night dancing with a ham.
“You have such pretty little feet,
I really hope its you.
Alas, I have no way to check,
as I forgot the shoe.”
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 9:18 AM UTC
i've heard it said
of friends who can only bare
the weather fair,
that they are better left
in that climate, there
that of all your loves
the ones who don't give up
slog through the ****
all for the prospect
of living it up
that's who you do it for
open your heart
open your arms
open your mind
free the soul
Jun 1, 2021
Jun 1, 2021 at 9:29 PM UTC
Nurtured in childhood
like aching bunions on feet
as ugly as sin
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 12:53 PM UTC
Bench boards are cold with pearly ropes
The fallen necklace by Hera's spite
Goddess ruling blinded for her wrath
To the ruination of nonchalant hopes
The clatter by the loamy soil
Fallen tree sleeves wipe their cuffs
And down goes gold and ocean gifts
Like bronzed fruit ready to spoil
Take rest so bunions softly shrink
Soles harden but where not tread
For a while the eyes freed can wander
To the round white spheres entangled beneath
Traveller of the gutters find
The goddess grace cast down and lost
Until she spies another's cues
For jealous nature opens the blind
Cradled sand in material cloud
By twine of lifethread in love's promise
Feel something in one's aching joints
That mortality alone allowed
That beauty is a shapeless fiend
By generations leave its shell
Until grandchildren take the rot
And call it godsend always been
Ancient mother's coming call
To unsuspecting holder of her art
The timepiece tells a stranger hour
Of where her children look and fall
Wound by the road have stopped their cries
The forest arms detached have warmed
In evidence that life persists
For gone are all that left have lied
In distant stretch she will descend
A foreign face in hourglass
Clutching her string of memory
No recollection in its head
To empty mind she is a ghost
Epitome of something dreamt
And she will float on past glories
With wisdom of the ages host
To empty mind she represents
A gesture given half in hope
That present thought can wrap around
The interaction now dispensed
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
The Pig That Sizzled
The pig, dressed with a rosy reminder
Shoved deep inside its mouth
A rod unfortunately attached
Travelled very south.
Rotating on a spit
And its frying skin leaves an oily mess
Not long before it’s cooked
And served on a roll I guess.
“Slice of pork sir
And a spoonful of onions”
“Trotters excluded sir,
The pig had bunions”
Nice bit of meat
And it cooked nice and early.
All to do with the tail
It was straight not curly.
I fail to see the difference
That makes to the taste of the meat
And I’m not sure what his reference
Meant about the pig’s feet.
“Deep fried bat Sir,
Care to try some”
Now that is just plain cruel
I think very definitely not
I will stick to what I have here
Which had gone far from hot?
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 12:48 AM UTC
On a foggy dawn, as the socks were drawn,
The toes prepared for battle.
The pinky declared, with lint in his hair,
“We’ll rattle those phalanges’ cattle!”
Big Toe led the charge with mighty arch,
And Second Toe braced his shield.
They clashed in glee on the knobby sea
Of the wrinkly battlefield.
The bunions bellowed, the corns would cry,
While calluses thickened their skins,
And nails like blades in jagged shades
Clattered with fearsome grins.
Then Little Piggy, with shrill ******
Let loose a mighty squeal:
“I’ve had enough, your stench is rough-
Our truce, let’s make it real!”
So Big Toe sighed and put down his pride,
And Second Toe did too.
The toes all hugged (though they all still bugged),
As feet so often do.
And thus it went, till the socks were spent,
And shoes enclosed their truce.
No more they’d fight in the stinky night-
They’d save it for when they’re loose.
Apr 5, 2025
Apr 5, 2025 at 10:19 AM UTC
"Why do you put so much pressure, on the soles of my feet!" "You use me to over jog, and dance to every beat!"
"Why load me down with heavy weight that's too hard to bear!" "You often neglect me, not giving me any care!."
"You seem to think it's fine, to squeeze me into tight shoes!" "You wear those that are old, especially, those that are used!"
"Stop making my feet swell, creating bunions and corns!" "It's embarrassing to see them popping, from shoes with holes and worn!"
"Will I ever get a chance, to have feet that are pretty and neat!" "Right now I am afraid, to take them out on the street!"
By, Sandra Juanita Nailing
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 2:59 AM UTC
Get your bra on Gladys
Lockdown is nearly done
Shave your legs and brush your pegs
Let's get out in the sun.
Put your perm on Doris
Get your hair all in a curl
Some lippy in red and a hat on your head
I'll take you out for a whirl.
Bin the slippers Mabel
Squeeze your bunions into some heels
A top tight at the bust is really a must,
And I'll pick you up in my wheels.
Chuck out the onesie Doris,
I know that you just didn't care,
In fact stay at home, I prefer being alone
And there's too many people out there.
Apr 1, 2021
Apr 1, 2021 at 1:43 PM UTC
High. Grossly elevated to the point where only your bursting bunions can be seen by us commoners.
Don’t trouble your head in the clouds, us peasants will fan your warts and peel your pimples. You are so full of pus after all.
We have financed the altar with our pennies in the hope that it will lift us out of your corrupt oppression.
We will at a word carry your weight, thoughts and offspring.
Press down, go on, push hard, harder, bury us all in the dirt as you move up, high, higher. Altitude sickness? Ill. In sickness and in health you head explodes under the buzz of your unhealthy ego. The altar can be a hostile heaven.
Aug 19, 2019
Aug 19, 2019 at 3:29 PM UTC
Patent Oxford black and whites
Sparkle like brilliant cut diamonds tonight
Buttoned down ruby shirt well pressed without haste.
A pocketed rose, stiff and ruffled like royal mace.
My bunions basted with powder warm,
Eyes watery like an onion farm.
Her moco skin against glistening pearls, eyes of a cat
Olive chiffon dress, tasseled tails, round feathered cap
Madonna hair, glowing in pigtails like stew
aroma of perfume, something new?
My hands feel heavy, my heart is light
Your hands are warmer than my pockets held tight
Smile that light up a room, searching anti aircraft rays
Tomato lips turn to me and says:
"I feel like dancing"...………………...
Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 2:34 PM UTC