"sprain" poems
Jumped from a plane,
napped on a train,
sort of in pain,
hope there's some gain.
Motorcycle jumped,
feeling quite pumped,
that stump I bumped,
ascertain, minor sprain.
Drunk in Deutschland,
sang with an old man,
couldn't pay, so i ran,
my fortitude I feign.
Back in America,
so much to tell ya
but can't stay too long.
Complacency. My bane.
Oct 31, 2010
Oct 31, 2010 at 8:44 PM UTC
On the platform rolled the morning train,
I arched into position like a predator on the prowl,
I jumped into the rake and sustained a sprain,
and like a wounded dog began to howl.
I bought myself to stand and staggered towards an empty seat,
as hundreds rushed through the compartment door,
I dint get a seat, but space enough for my feet,
and that's when my phone clattered onto the floor.
I dived into the mammoth crowd,
and began to ***** unsuspecting toes,
Several people yelped out loud,
and i sustained a few hard blows.
Wounded and abashed i almost gave up the search,
when the phone came into my hand,
with relief i grabbed it amidst a jolt and lurch,
but soon realized I couldn't bring myself to stand.
I sat crouched on my fours,
and soon developed knee sores,
The crowd was so large, I couldn't squeeze through them all,
and to my horror, other phones began to fall.
Soon, we were quite a gathering, all perched on our knees,
merrily discussing the Lokpal bill and the Cricket match in West Indies,
We were soon forced to balance on a single toe,
as the crowd began to grow even more.
After an uncomfortable half an hour,I brought myself to stand,
with delicate ease on the platform I managed to land.
Fighting against the oncoming crowd i pushed through with a shove and ****
dusting myself here and there I made my way to work.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 7:08 AM UTC
Brown-Eyed Girl-
they say she is the weakest link
gone and sprung amuck
through clouded fields of poppy seeds
and cottony ****** they say she is a sprain
of chortling pain in the dumpling
maker's yeasting wrist.
brown-eyed girl seeing powdered
blues of glass-stained eyes,
he wore a plaid shirt, nip-and-tucked,
rat-a-tat-tat, and a silly looking bow-tie
slopped slightly off-kilter and to the right,
a frenchie little pear of a man. he said he liked her-
tie-dye thighs. she said, he said, she liked his
dumpling hands - and flakey chest.
they say she is that button-down clad-
sunflowers-printed kind-of, sad.
memories tainted, she said, he said,
she's the kind of girl you've got to love every night,
my kind of a woman. my salted oils, fried
and phat-
brown-eyed girl.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 9:49 PM UTC
*dandelion seeds
too tight to fly--
frozen Spring lovers
stream breeze--
pollen ripples into sun,
brace of current bed
inflorescent burst--
hikers' boots beside a pool
on sun-baked rocks
green buds ***** the air--
in corymb echoes,
fuzz of leaves
water-sounds cascade--
moss-drops, trickles; dog-splash, falls;
gurgles under foot
the tones of waves
tiny on the smooth shore
lipping on
stem-length stars,
streaming rays of sun
and water's deep shade
gentle eddies over stone--
one world,
one world
froth twirl and tendril
under Spring brook shade--
so clear beneath
burl-sprouts misted bright,
cups of water,
forest thirst
waterfall gasp--
the cold! the winter! now swim!
the first breaths
Spring Misogi--
pummeled muscles--
grin of mossy heart
your wet shirt against my chest
--hot love--
thunderous winter-melt
we sink laughing,
numb in Spring's fluids--
our voices drown
papaya lunch--
a tropic fruit
and i am home
sweaty backpack--
two beloved women hike,
my heart weightless
cliff-jumpers--
green from nostalgia,
i hit bottomless
cameras first,
avert canopy surprise--
Spring screen
black-backed iridesce--
warm beetle slips
in and out of scree
barefoot in the stream,
our hands and voices smooth--
ankle sprain
Spring paths--
a parent's visit
breathes new life
my womb-maker
from another life--
ageless comfort
her haiku eyes--
water shining sun green
bloom here again
*
\|/
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 11:06 AM UTC
Thunder claps before the lightning strikes.
At least it did for me, and I learned
how a storm can be a beautiful thing.
The sprinkling rain
felt like kisses on my cheek.
Flutters came along after,
and swept me off my feet.
Everything felt better in the rain
that flooded past my ankles.
Even if it resulted in a sprain
it was still worthwhile.
The thunder was so vibrant,
I wanted it to last forever.
I thought it would have been nicer,
but the thunder was the tip of the iceberg.
After the thunder was over
I had no time to waste.
I tried dancing alone in the rain
and jumped from puddle to puddle.
It just wasn't the same.
When the lightning struck I was lost,
determined to make things work,
I stood tall on the perilous ground.
I would stay until things cleared out.
I refused to let this time be like all the rest!
I wanted to pass the test with flying colors
but I lost myself trying to impress others.
I was stuck in a downpour for what felt like forever.
I let the lightning strike me
but I made it out alive.
I'm smiling up at the sky, in the sunlight
that's peaking out at me.
A storm is a beautiful thing.
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 4:07 AM UTC
Phantom posture cocked
its spear and stuck it
to another friend
like an unglued Quasimodo
The incense of a level-headed fate
tosses its burn from one context
to another
breath
consumption
sarcasm
And all that remains
are matchstick stumps as clues
to the promise of origins
birth
a dance
and a sprain
Feral intimations of mortality
eating on bonds like rust
And I can't even ask
for a turn without knocking
on the ignorance-enforced door
of self-promotion
Violation via Wolverine caress
Feel-good stories
strip-searched
by a generation *****
for conspiracy theories
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 10:22 PM UTC
Don't cry in the whisky baby
I am an alcoholic highlight reel
mostly made from concentrated
words--
I'll quit when I'm ready
for all kinds of art
vibrating love venom,
and words like love--
I can't seem to agree with authority.
My ankle indicates some sprain or tweak.
There's plenty of beer in the fridge,
I am not going to *** my pants ever again
like a **** and bottle of bourbon.
Thanks, I'm full
but parents never cared.
The road is litered--
the marrow ****** from their veins everyday
and the gypsy whisper of "why are we?"
is in my heartbeat.
There it went, frolicking through the midnight sky
like a car wreck,
haunting, like the song "Scarborough Fair."
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 12:09 PM UTC
I remember how it felt and every dark and angry pain,
the feeling of tender soreness from every ache and throbbing sprain.
I remember ruptured internals and the fire of an appendix burst,
and the excruciating agony at every touch that was loudly cursed.
I remember the touch of many physical pains that left me feeling sore,
But nothing hurts so much as that last time you left my door.
Dec 20, 2020
Dec 20, 2020 at 3:38 PM UTC
It starts with I…
And one night, under triangular canopy of Vega-Denair-Altair,
I meets you,
you call it M-13,
A foolish and globular cluster.
We muster courage saying: “There are no bodies in the sky. There are only bodies here to live and die.”
I-like-you(s) sprain to I-want-you(s)
And I-want-you(s) will, surely, hint at I-need-you(s)
This will be a lie because we are not each other’s food or drink.
Nevertheless, one day an I-need-you is translated into an I-love-you
This will not be a lie. Not because all poets are liars, but because not all liars are poets.
Not by lips or tongues or even signs-
But by virus, a susceptible core and conception
Infectious only under summer triangle,
low light pollution, and _____________.
In darkness we can doubt the existence of light.
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 1:40 AM UTC
Caught in the snap of a wing
With a flap and a clap
And a sting.
Down to the ground like a stone
What a sound with a pound
All alone.
Watched by the flight up above
From that height what a sight
Of the dove.
Twists from the pain to the bone
Quite a sprain such a strain
Tragic tone.
Scooped by yet a net unknown
Panicked fret foreign threat
Worry grown.
Hope’s deceased from those eyes
Now a feast for some beast
No more skies.
Dress the break hurry fast
Half awake crushing ache
Make a cast.
Days soar by seeds so sweet
Seems so spry can you fly
Hoppy Feet?
Day has come grand depart
Slightly numb flutter hum
Flitting art.
To the blue build your nest
Cry your coo for you flew
Before rest.
Rainfall dream endlessly
Silent scream to the stream
Eternity.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 8:38 AM UTC
There is always a way
Hidden from plain sight
So many crossroads
We have to tackle
Surrounded by structures
And then busy boulevards
Higher and higher
Ambitions kissing clouds
Vertical limits not set
One feels dizzy
Like a minnow
Pushed around
Sprain in the neck
New phobias
And health scares
Spine gives way
To modern marvels
Can’t bear the load
Anymore
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
Honestly
There were times that I try to convince myself that I don't like you
You're loud and giddy
and most of the time, a real klutz
You'd probably have a sprain on every other day that I'd get to see you
You're annoying and pretentious at times
and your imagination really does take flight whenever you'd see my drawings.
You're crazy in more ways than one.
I don't even know how that's possible!
I'd sometimes tell myself that I hate you
I'd tell myself these:
I hate how she's loud and giddy
because you'd have these eyes that glow every time you'd have a story
I hate how you're getting sprains because you were so immersed in your own world
sometimes, I hate that you'd come to me about it, because I would care too much
I hate how you annoy me sometimes, especially when I draw or study because you'd get too close to me and it makes my heart beat so fast, I'd get tachyarrythmia
When you get pretentious.. I hate how I'd like to listen to your stories, because well.. you tell it so engagingly
it sickens me
I hate how you're so crazy it makes my day so different from every other boring day I'd get before I met you.
I keep telling myself these
every single day
to make myself not fall in love with you
and before I knew it.. all this time.
I'm in love with you
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 11:50 AM UTC
My poor, little brain,
Has gone completely insane.
I have yet to buy a prom dress,
In which I'm clueless, I confess.
I have an ankle sprain,
Soley feeling inside pain.
I have my second SAT to take,
Please help me, for God's Sakes!
Plus an ACT I'm taking soon,
I feel like such a loon.
I became diagnosed with a mental disorder,
For a life as good as hell, I'm surely on the border.
I'm alone as of now,
And i sit and wonder how.
I had to quit lifeguard training,
All the bad luck I was gaining.
People view me as shy,
So I just simply cry.
I'm afraid to show my true personality,
Because of the significant lack of mentality.
I have yet to take my road test,
I'm not too far behind the rest.
My father hates me,
From built up stress and aggrivation, you see.
I am myself and nothing more,
I am wounded internally from one slammed door.
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 3:42 PM UTC
Compassion informs my outrage,
Skinny black kid,
super sensitive
playing the violin
for kittens,
pacifist vegetarian
tried to tell policemen
“I am not violent.
I’m an introvert.
I am different,”
as they choked him
then had paramedics
dose him
with ketamine.
Buds of pain
do not bloom
but burst, spray,
and sprain
my brain
that was self-trained
in the art of
kindness and reason.
It takes
less than five minutes
to break a mother’s heart,
to tare her world apart,
to shatter and claim
that they are not to blame
after unloading a full clip
on an autistic thirteen-year-old
who wasn’t mentally equipped
to do exactly what he was told.
Love and mercy
should rule the day
but cops make
violence great again.
Human suffering
is not magic
just unnecessarily tragic. cont.
Micheal Brown,
Eric Garner,
Tamir Rice,
George Floyd,
Freddy Gray,
Breonna Taylor,
Elijah Mcclain,
Linden Cameron,
Jacob Blake,
and so many other names.
There has to be a better way.
Nov 8, 2020
Nov 8, 2020 at 8:42 AM UTC
"Run down the list, if you please."
"OK. Doc, let's start with these:
An earwig with shin splints,
a worm with heartburn,
A cockroach with a cold-"
"He should have wrapped up like he was told!"
"-A bee with hay-fever."
"She never listens either..."
"A centipede with a migraine,
A fly with wing sprain
And a woodlouse with suspected vertigo."
"Is that them all?"
"Well, no. There's an elderly spider with a blister on his *** He can't spin a web to build a trap or home.
There is a grub with possible depression,
A slug with a stomach bug
And a ladybird with gout."
"Too many greenflies, no doubt."
"There's a butterfly with signs of hypochondria due to a swollen antennae,
no matter what I say he's certain he is going to die.
Now, the last is a delicate imposition: the Queen ant wants birth control,
Because she is sick of her pregnant condition."
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 7:39 PM UTC
Bird against the night,
White fingertip against
A negative held up to light.
Whisper, soft by definition,
Work your maledictions
So I have something to react to.
The way you talk it would seem
Those words have been
Asleep for years. I’d
Hardly want you to
Strain- sprain anything.
Spring it on me,
Show the Bruce Lee
Of your larynx. Strike
Me or smite me, bury
Your fist and pronounce
That solar syllable before-
Before the storm cedes.
We’ve all been waiting for
The blue flick, the
Clear blur, the handle
Toward your hand. Spit
It into the light. I don’t
Really care, I just need it out.
Cut around it anymore
And you might inadvertently
Break the clouds. It’s a cheap
Trick but it’s all I ever had
Over you.
Night bloodies the beach.
A moral goes unheard like
An ignored spectator.
Mar 20, 2010
Mar 20, 2010 at 10:04 AM UTC
you turned me into wet cement and pressed your hands in deep
you tightened them around my heart and gently started to squeeze
I never noticed your tight grasp, for you only caused a sprain
until one day you squeezed too much, I felt a twang of pain
which led me to push your hand away, remove you from my soul
and now the only pain I feel is the pain of being alone
because even though you broke my heart at least you squeezed it so.
Nov 24, 2018
Nov 24, 2018 at 5:17 PM UTC
****
before my very eyes right now
bottle brush sway dance for me and I get breeze caressed
and blades of grass all round me, my lovely quiet friends
over two yellow towers, a small wink flits across the way
chittering its strange works and seeping in all my veins
bugs marvel at this towering stilt
aloe of varied height, a neat semi circle round the being
protecting all open **** still raw
*I can cry out for pain, but I do not
I let it sit inside my mouth
like a throbbing tongue
till it goes away
or melt into the soil
that mother earth opens for me, in the wings of stunted dreams*
I can reach up and pull a branch to me
full of foliage, green and brown
every leaf a miracle, just for me in this moment
nature dust paints much contrast and sensuous texture
yellow rose
I take your wrists in my hands and you let me to the hasty lines
scribbled in short hand patience
I had better be quick, catch that pulsing
I may miss the already camouflaged code
placed between your lips, a yellow rose
before the world
challenge credence and beat nerve ridden walk
and no need to butter up anything
what's true, is true
I adore you beyond mere words, despite this
dry salt survives absent eyes
expectations sprain and get crippled, hobble on
on crutches made of geranium petals
like a half boat on an arduous journey
to visit a season on another planet that I hold within this can
just for you
stem
you're such the poem for keeps
no poikilotherm stem
tubes of beautiful green fluids
thanks to the extraordinary sun spill
of light in every breath
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 3:29 AM UTC
the way i interact with people gives them bite-sized pieces –
a wince, a sigh, a rant about the last appointment.
i catch myself in surprise when i say i was at the doctor
and they ask if i’m okay, two question marks in their voice,
and i can’t help but laugh before i say yes.
i guess most people go to the doctor for physicals and check-ups,
maybe for strep throat or a sprain,
and not for half an answer,
weeks of waitlists,
waiting.
maybe they’ll even see me tired,
puffy-eyed and curled up on the couch like i came with it,
feeling like a drag when i shake my head and say i’ll stay while they go.
in little moments, if they’re looking, they’ll see me labor up the stairs,
an amused echo of ‘_but you’re so young_!’ flashing through my mind
as each step sends a sharp pain through my knees.
“you go first,” i insist, hanging back with a smile
before climbing in their wake.
Oct 15, 2022
Oct 15, 2022 at 1:41 PM UTC
remember last
year when i
sprained my ankle
in the parking lot?
*(you came along
for the limping ride
swore you were
my ride or die)*
and i had forgotten
how autumnal and
the slight haze of
anxiety over the
top of my head
until i bent my leg
wrong again today
felt that old twinge
*(i mean it's completely
healed it just hurts a
tiny bit if i bend it wrong
or someone sits on it)*
of doubt and
apprehension
stalking me through
winter and into summer
of the future
and if i will
have to face
it alone
*(a cloying
crippling
catastrophic
fear of that
someday nobody
will love me)*
but it's all in my
head i know
*(that someday when
i push the people i
need away they just
won't ever come back)*
but then again
you said you
were my ride or die
and that means
that i can't lose
you unless i
sabotage my
own game
twist my
own sprain.
Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC
The truth is hard to take
When you know love is at stake
It's always best to know
before you become a show
Foolish pride
denial your love has died
As the clouds begin to bare rain
As you're fighting to stop the pain
Going out searching for someone, anyone
To make that break just a sprain
Time will fix this injury on the heart
Soon you'll be thankful for the day you split apart
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 1:40 AM UTC
To partake of a strange feast where the price claims haughty
too, bits of sanity
or decline.
Courage must be the face to the lion
in a pool of fear
and recognize the unacceptable.
The scorpion waits, a grumpy nip the heel
going round, sprain in soft sand
dessication tripled, slip in butter.
The search via crumbs to secret root
underlining hefty conditions
undermining liberty.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 5:39 PM UTC
They say once you crawl you’ll walk
You won’t stop moving forward
But if you sprain your wrists enough
You’ll soon learn to hold back
And doubt yourself and bite your nails
And sweat when others stare
You soon forget the ground you’re on
Because it wasn’t ever there
You shave your head you pluck your brow
You dance with eyes toward floor
Searching for the place you stood
A mere five years before
Swimming toward the light, this
Fishbowl’s water’s stale
Growing anxious in the night
As your skin slowly grows pale
But the moon hides the sun in the night
So you’re exactly wrong you see
Each moment in time passes us by
If only we would watch
And listen
Apr 11, 2010
Apr 11, 2010 at 8:28 PM UTC