"shoeing" poems
I am The Shoes of Shoes,
which are Solomon’s. Let him polish
me with the oil from his brow, for his gloss
is better than sunshine.
Because of the fragrance of thy ointment buffed
upon me, thy name
is Scent Shine, therefore do the ****** shoes
love thy feet. Stretch me,
with your Shoe-Tree, and I will run
& rejoice with thy feet through
gardens & woods, and across mountains alike.
I am leather, but comely, O ye Daughters
of Shoeshopingham, as The Pile Beneath
the Prophesised Viaduct, and as in the abundant
bottom of The Wardrobe of Solomon.
Look not upon me, because I am leather,
but put me upon thy feet for I
am thy soles.
I am the Rose of Shoe, and the Lilly of The Laces.
As the strong shoes among thorns, so
is my love among The Shod.
As the tongue that tightens to the fruit of the foot, so is
my beloved among The Shod.
His left foot is in my left purse, and his right
foot is my right, tight.
The Polish of My Beloved, behold, cometh
glinting off llyns, he cometh leaping upon
the mountains, with both of me tight on his feet.
Looketh fourth through The Round Window
of Wisdom, through The Lattice see
him shoeing himself with my flesh.
Take us the socked foxes, the little foxes that chew & spoil,
for our shodding is tender.
My Loved Shod’s feet are mine and my leather is his.
Until the day break, and the unshod shadows flee, turn
my Loved Shod, and be thou like the shoe young on the mountains.
Behold, thou art fair, my shoes, behold thou art shoes as fast
as a flock of goats over the Mountain of Shoedon.
Thy laces are like soft strands of moss, which have been spun
& woven in the Workshops of Acorns by The Grubs of Oak.
Thy eyelets are like the sweet slots in which nestle
the seeds of the pomegranate.
Thy tongues are like scarlet leaves fallen from speaking
trees, and thy squeak as I walk in thee is comely.
Thy heal is like the shield that should’ve been
fashioned for Achilles.
Thy two toe caps are as sleek & pert as the twin otters
that fish among the lilies.
How beautiful are thee, shoes for feet, O Goddess’s daughters,
the joints of thy soft foot-slot smooth as the gleam
of jewels, the work of the hands of a cunning cobbler.
O Solomon set me twin shoes as seals
upon thy feet, for Love is as strong
as The Road to Dead we must follow. O
my Loved Shod! for every one
of thy steps you make
in me is my bliss.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 8:25 AM UTC
I woke to find the world covered in white
I ran down the stairs,
Opened the door,
Running through the white ground
Sinking deep,
Lying flat the ground beneath.
Cold,
Vivid white,
Pure,
It crunched under my weight,
I spread my arms out like wings
My feet spread
I moved them in sync
Left
to
Right
My head still,
As it sunk ever more deep
I lifted up to see what was done
A white snow angel
Pure as the snow that surrounds
I made a wish to the snow angel
Protect,
Care,
Look after
Those in this house from now,
The hours past it went to fast,
I slept a deep sleep blanketed in the dark
I woke as light pierced the room
Shoeing the darkness away.
I looked out to the ground below,
Where once there was one
Now more did appear, encircling the house
Days pasted and the white did fade,
But the angels now ice
Not melted away,
The sun shone down,
The ice did gradually faded away.
I awoke to my mothers voice
Come look my child,
Wings spread,
Angels before my eyes,
What once was white
Its shadow in green,
They heard my wish
Though the snow had gone,
They were still here there circle of wings.
Here to stay to forever protect me
And those who live in this house,
Each year it snows.
Cold,
Vivid white,
Pure,
The angels appear,
But leave a space, for my own angel to reappear
As I lie in the crisp white ground
Surrounded by my angels all year round.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 4:18 PM UTC
For all the mistakes I’ve ever, I’m sorry
For every equation, mathematical explanation
For every wrongdoing and in shoeing and for every left turn I ever made, I’m sorry.
For forgiveness, I am sorry
For apologies sake, I am sorry
I was born in sickness and from the moment I walked I felt Atlas’ burden on my shoulders
I am selfish, I am unruly, I am forgotten and regretted and in debt to the people who reached out to me
I am moving forward, starting backwards, put my arms around my head for I am shattered
I have a heart with an empty home and clichéd voice with whose words I yell, I roam a lonely earth and put arms around my head, my mind in fact, for I am shattered.
A race of humankind I cannot love nor relate to and I feel like I relate to you but lately I feel as if I’m drifting backward
And not to say I’d like to move away from you but what else can I do when life is moving me backward
And backward, and backward and like a future so pre determined I feel as if no choice is now my own and no choice is ever free will
No cosmic force would remember me and I am sorry
I do not want to be something you forget and you’ve always told me I am something you remember.
In a shade of cobalt blue or a burning red or a golden yellow, I want to be a colour you cannot describe
A taste you yearn for, a smell whose memory remains
But all the same, I want to disappear.
I am sorry in terms long over due for all the things I do and have not done yet because you don’t deserve their scorn and yet I cannot leave them behind for parts of me for which you fell for remain inside me, and always will.
I am sorry for who I am and choices made and I will always be here whenever you decide the pieces I can’t leave behind are pieces that you cannot forget.
I’m sorry, my makeups both genetic and aesthetic are not pieces I enjoy or wish would stay a little longer
And for this I am sorry, and all in good time I will make up for all the sorries given, driven, laid to rest here in these words.
I am sorry for things you don’t deserve.
Aug 22, 2011
Aug 22, 2011 at 10:53 PM UTC
He bought them from his cousin
they were shiny black and new
the man was doing business
and at a fair price too.
Well they looked like patent leather
reflecting back, he smiles
he wore them out to church
and had put on several miles.
One day the skies grew darker
and the rain began to splatter
the drops absorbed into the shoes
well not a sight was sadder
For the shoes were made of paper
and his cousin bought the stock
from a man who made his livin'
shoeing feet that used to walk.
The business had been slowing
at God's Shoe store for the Saints
though reports were never glowing
he rarely got complaints.
I am told my father's cousin
owned a bar on Irving Street
and fitted many customers
while they still had living feet.
Many of the regulars
brought back their soggy shoes
I am sorry but there's no returns
can I pour you up some *****
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 10:36 AM UTC
*Do you see the caricatures neath the full moon pines
The ghost of General McIntosh , spirits of Creek hunters along
the river brush
Old Timers whittling song flutes from bottom cane
Farrier's shoeing mules , work horses straining at the
crack of the whip , ferryboats treading shoals across the
foggy Flint
The voices of children in one room schoolhouses
The rousing , morning bell of little towns , the clap
of field wagons
A fiddler sawing a piedmont 'Rag'
The rustle of picking field peas with Croaker bags*
Dec 21, 2016
Dec 21, 2016 at 7:31 PM UTC
He bought them from his cousin
they were shiny black and new
the man was doing business
and at a fair price too.
Well they looked like patent leather
reflecting back, he smiles
he wore them out to church
and had put on several miles.
One day the skies grew darker
and the rain began to splatter
the drops absorbed into the shoes
well not a sight was sadder
For the shoes were made of paper
and his cousin bought the stock
from a man who made his livin'
shoeing feet that used to walk.
The business had been slowing
at God's Shoe store for the Saints
though reports were never glowing
he rarely got complaints.
I am told my father's cousin
owned a bar on Irving Street
and fitted many customers
while they still had living feet.
Many of the regulars
brought back their soggy shoes
I am sorry but there's no returns
can I pour you up some *****
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC