"ulna" poems
Albert had an ARTHRITIC knee
which gave him curry
The core of a BOIL is oft hard
to extract
Yesterday June experienced
a server stomach CRAMP
Too much dry weather
can cause the outer DERMAL layer to peel
Never read in a poorly lit room
for you'll have EYE strain
After eating spicy pickles
dad had bad FLATULENCE
Some twenty eight years ago
my friend Helen had her GALLBLADDER removed
They say that a glass of water
will stop HICCUPS
From end to end
our INTESTINAL tract is thirty foot long
On Sunday afternoon John
broke his JAW playing football
Some people have
very boney KNUCKLES
One of my work colleagues
is prone to getting LARYNGITIS
Colin suffers terribly
with MIGRAINE headaches
Sometimes people tend
to endlessly NAVAL gaze
A woman's OVARIES need to be checked
on a regular basis for any abnormalities
The PANCREAS secrets a hormone
known as insulin
QUININE once was extensively used
in the treatment of Malaria
Since my sister has put on weight
she cannot find her RIBS
The STIRRUP bone lies
within one's ear
Dan Aykroyd the famous comic star
has webbed TOES
Should you bump your ULNA bone
it may give you reason to groan
The VARICOSE VEINS is great aunt Ruby's legs
were very pronounced
Does anyone know of a good remedy
for unsightly WARTS
At our local hospital
we have an antiquated X-RAY machine
As tiredness and weariness sets in
one YAWNS quite a lot
****** ZOSTER can make
a person constantly itch
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 1:31 AM UTC
“Put pressure on it, it needs more pressure”
Holding your wounds shut
That senseless force is what took you away
Pressure- to be... whilst not desiring to be
You saw the clouds moving in greyscale
I saw the hills below scattered in shades of green,
Cavernous, shadowed, cryptic, familiar-
We were advised to go as the crow flies
I cried to a nameless God that your crow’s feet
Were from insurmountable happiness, not the pressures endured
I’ve forgotten much since the storm some-178 weeks ago
Though my body remembers yours over and over again
My skin has yours imprinted, correlated
Forged into one point on the axis between here and there
You the X, I the Y
The Earth crept between the crevices, curling
Through the distance between the Right radius and ulna
Elbows breaking knuckles, blood remains to be spilt
Blood doesn’t connect, if anything it merely separates
Scarecrows don’t help much when the crops won’t grow this year
Ants crawled out of the barrel of a shotgun
Observing the process of cleaning bones after tragedy
Follow the moss to find your way North with no direction-
Sometimes on the other side it’s not greener,
It’s more terrifying than ever before
Terrain untouched, unspoiled, sacred-
Climb up the trees with me, find your quiet
We won’t carve our names but we’ll find our niche
You’ll have quills and I’ll have armor
Not even the thought of stolen arrows,
Lost time through distance,
Or perhaps a slew of chemical imbalances
Can reach us up here
I chose to glue your pieces back together with mud and straw
Taken from the fallen, the loved and now distant memories
You may be an abandoned military base offshore
What was once used by many-
Witnesses life again, life of a different kind
The vegetation will ease its way into the cracks
Constructed when the foundation began to decay
It has a beauty of its own, one of self-sustainment
An everlasting beauty that connects itself
To the surrounding extravagance, often times ignored,
Death isn’t the only way to be forged into nature, remembered
Fear doesn’t always win, nor death do us part so soon
I hope your skin and bones remember before the end
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 1:34 AM UTC
i tried to overlook
but like seedlings, you germinated
roots around my phalanges (like a dandelion)
from where we last touched.
over time and frigid winter weather, the roots
spread. around my metacarpals, intertwined
between my ulna and radius, all the way up
to my humerus and scapula.
by the spring, flowers sprouted just above my
collarbones, embracing my mandible.
little wilted blue petals surrounding me in my bed
each sunrise, but by noon, new petals already have
attached themselves to the receptacle.
by summer, i pluck their petals for amusement. as
they drift away in the breeze i can't help but to
remember you. us. we. and another thing i haven't
determined is whether you have forgotten me
or not.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 7:39 PM UTC
when I dream I dream in the colors
of the being yet unformed
wide eyes shut
a pseudo-dormant parasite
feeding off of my mother, still.
I dream of oily ashes,
still staining the arms- ulna, radius
reaching towards the empty sky.
For what did they burn?
black on white.
shades of gray.
the man in the turban
stepping from my closet—
the bees swarming from his mouth.
Before my body was ten years old
I knew sadness—
it seeped into my soul
and I could not speak.
For what did I ache?
Jun 24, 2010
Jun 24, 2010 at 4:21 PM UTC
Romantically speaking,
I am not very romantic at all.
My spine curves and
sprouts forth a
humerus that holds
to a radius and an ulna
with metacarpal bones
dangling
downward
reaching for something to
anchor themselves to.
I am not very romantic at all,
it's just that my bones have flourished
curling around you.
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 12:50 PM UTC
I saw old friend Bogart awhile ago
in pieces and fragments
of old, preserved bones
I’ve tried to put him back together
by assembling him, and I did
but there’s so many pieces missing.
His skull is gone, his hyoid and clavicle
his humerus and ulna on the right side of his arms
and even his phalanges.
He has no coccyx on his pelvis and
on his right leg, no tibia and fibula,
on his knee, there’s no patella
yet there’s some pieces of tarsals on his feet.
Incomplete and useless,eh?
Though old, he’s still beautiful,
a perfect masterpiece of the Heavens,
the strength of his bones measure eons
and will you believe me if I say
that because of him, my mom graduated?
He’s been responsible for the success
of students who became doctors and biologists
as old as his bones are,
were the knowledge imparted to the children
of many generations.
Bogart is amazing, a (non)living teacher
that tells me, that there’s beauty
and essence in fragments of something that
once was complete and that one who
will always remain alive in the lives of many
and now, in mine too.
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 8:14 AM UTC
sternum (n.)
a bone extending along the middle line of the ventral portion of the body consisting of a flat, narrow bone connected with the clavicles and the true ribs.
I remember taking an anatomy class in high school, we had to memorize the bones of the body - the skeletal system. Scapula, humerus, mandible all favorable to the tongue, but I never liked the word sternum, it sounds far too angry, nothing like the supple it actually is. Years later I would still find myself walking to work and naming them off. Bones on my mind. Tibia, ulna, femur, breastbone.
Breastbone rolls around my mouth, lulls my anxiety towards its twin like a boat in calm waters. I think of your breastbone as a platform to profess my fascination. I am surprisingly amazed every time I count the steady rhythm of your heart, it's sound conducted as though your breastbone is a soundboard. I feel the slight ridges of your ribs when my head lays in the valley of your chest. There's not a day that I wouldn't love to get lost in the formations of your bones, each crevice a new place to hide - lounging in the curve of your collar bone, plucking the muscles of your fingers like guitar strings, getting lost to the soft scent of skin, and memorizing the plush roundness of your ******* each sensation leaves me with a new obsession. I look for replicas in everyday life, the hunt almost as intoxicating as smoke from campfires, or plucking wishbones from hens.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 5:30 PM UTC
The phalanges are connected
to the metacarpals,
the metacarpals are connected
to the ulna,
the ulna is connected
to the humerus…
and the heart
is connected
to pen and paper
in a way that defies
all logic
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 9:33 PM UTC
My wrist is laid
down
alone
upon a table
large well formed feet
visible beneath the glass sheet
that's chilling to the skin
blood recedes from distant hand
until it gathers in a puddle
between the ulna and radius
a bruise of vague percussions
spreading up my little metacarpal
as it smashes vainly upon resistant stable
trying to steady the dancing toes beneath
a barrier so clear
the dust from last week's walk from work
are seen around a sole
that won't decide
where it wants to go
or if going can be defined
while blurred blue engulfs the cloudy witness
to my pointless movements
ontop
beneath
behind
the glass table
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 8:42 PM UTC
Sadness gathers in bruises along your hipbones
and in aches of metatarsals
when you're dancing alone at the bar, stumbling
over your feet, reeling into counters.
You greet 10 o'clock with the night's fifth drink,
searing the back of your esophagus--strong.
The spinning world around you romanticizes
loneliness. There's nothing captivating
about swollen cheek bones and shaking knees
from the futile retracing of weary footsteps
in search of people and hope you've lost.
Misery crawls outside where radius meets ulna,
not for a party, but a bar fight,
full of drunkenness and hatred.
Pent up emotions carve flesh along your arms.
Emptiness pulverizes your ribcage,
plucked light guitar strings, your nerves cave
till you puke it all into an unwelcoming bathroom sink.
Despite all 206 bones,
you're never together in heart.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
in the
dark
with your body pressed against mine, you ask me questions
because you want to know my mind
want to know me
and not just the face you see
you ask me things like
what is your favorite color, food, embarrassing memory,
etc.
etc.
etc.
all pretty tame questions
ever break anything? you say and i assume you mean
bones so i tell you about breaking my wrist, the
snapped radius and the misplaced ulna
but you stop me
no, like,
broken something. you know?
something like someone’s heart?
and i think no nothing like that because i’m not sure
if anyone else has ever loved me
enough to be sad
i left
but i don’t say that
instead
i tell you about smashing plates against the wall
for fun
and when i’m done
you’re fast asleep.
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC
And now, I guess I'm glad that I never felt
The way your ulna and radius would press
against the discs in my spine as your humerus
held me to you, the way I would lean my skull
on your clavicle and rest my phalanges on your
scapula and be able to feel the life inside of your ribs,
the way your costal cartilage was never mine to hold
and the way mine always was too bruised to touch,
because then I'd be certain that the cartilage between
your bones would turn them into nothing but ropes,
tying me down to you as they wrapped around my
neck and choked me in my own illusions.
And I'm done playing hangman.
Because then, I'd be nothing but another skeleton
in my closet full of dreams and hopes.
And darling,
I won't do that to myself again.
Never again.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 1:31 PM UTC
1. Bones
I can
unscrew my arms
from their sockets in
my shoulders, scratch
long lines in the mud with the
splintering ends. Pry apart
radius & ulna and let fingers
dance across my lap.
Twist ribs together, explore
the smooth inside of my
eye sockets.
I'll laugh at your fear
with the music of 32 teeth.
2. Flesh
With this knife, carve
the muscle from my calf;
peel a scarlet & stinging & twisting
ribbon from curving neck.
Blood runs a river,
scooping my stomach out,
a cave for children
to dance in.
I'll turn from
the way you cry at me,
& you can see
my gloriously stinging smile.
3. Blood
Sharp fingers gouge,
scrabbling at pulsing veins,
peeling off a spidery
net of dripping blood
and sinewy strings.
Pull them tighter
around my throat,
bursting to fireworks
in my eyes. Rip the threads, release
an avalanche of bitter &
slippery red.
I'll win at your game
with paint of victorious red
still wet upon my cheeks.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 1:12 PM UTC
HWilliams
Foot to sidewalk, cement to shoe
step to song beats or give beats to silence.
Step with feet tired from too much tread,
guess I'll walk on hands instead.
beat to song, gust to mast
sound of travel, its own song.
Foot to sidestep pitfalls or potholes,
skip steps get applause for pratfalls.
Step to pulse and make hearts skip beats.
Take bow, step outside, sidewalk to feet.
Door to frame
button to lock
ignition to key
motor noise, engine block.
Radio, radiator, radius, ulna
cylinders under hood
cylinders filled with soda
serpentine belt squeaks, fix it you should.
The car is no Chevelle,
but Chevelle's in my speakers
keep pace with traffic well
"learn to choose to breathe."
Stuck behind brake lights
as soon as headway is made.
Sigh as loud as music plays
click volume arrow upright.
Anger builds when traffic fills.
Stomp throttle or else you'll throttle someone.
Throw insults like a mime in summer,
lip service they might see in mirrors.
Can't point at points A or B
trace stress to line that traces in between
Between the 2 spaces where my car parks
mile markers, tail-gaiters, nail biters.
Foot to sidewalk, cement to shoe
step to song beats or give beats to silence.
Step with feet tired from too much tread,
guess I'll walk on hands instead.
Foot to sidestep pitfalls or potholes,
skip steps get applause for pratfalls.
Step to pulse and make hearts skip beats.
Take bow, step outside, sidewalk to feet.
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 4:29 AM UTC
habit is at
my elbow, tho
crouching
scenes not small too
flank the left
ulna. hell,
w a flick
of the wrist
i could commission
a fistless head squawk bloom. but this
hag
viscous, if
lag of lead and
cadmium sapped, ack-
nowledges
a vision,
also. all
have a voice,
no matter how
crude or
elemental.
the hydra, for
instance, has a mouth-
ful of
membranous
know
how.
jet-void smaller daff-
odils milling and
mauling tall, i am beautiful
because i
am here
amid it all
for such
a little bit
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 11:40 AM UTC
i relate in body parts,
because my words fall short of hearts.
i relate, in knowing we both have twelve pairs of ribs,
the same way you and i have the curve to our hips.
i relate, in knowing your ulna runs down my radius,
the same way my thumb runs down your humerus.
i relate, in knowing how our teeth align,
the same way you compliment my design.
so i nest my mandibula,
in the crevice of your scapula,
set my rhythm to the countdown of your vertebra.
i relate, in knowing a pair of lips doesn't make two,
not unless they meet as me and you.
Jan 6, 2025
Jan 6, 2025 at 11:26 AM UTC
Had I known yesterday was the last time
That I’d ever speak to you
I would’ve put your arms around my waist
Pressed my face into your collarbone
Closer and closer
Until my alar cartilage bled
And your ulna snapped
A subtly violent fusion
That would still hurt less than you walking away
Mar 5, 2021
Mar 5, 2021 at 12:56 PM UTC