I’ve Found My Feet

I’ve found my feet
way down, below.
My life’s complete
with my big toe

And, pinky, too
…and all the rest –
the names of who(m)
I’ve only guessed.

The point, you see,
is they’re all there;
standing, waiting:
my feet, a pair.

-At least, I thought,
as in I sucked,
a glimpse I caught
past tummy, tucked.

©2022 Chel Owens

Photo by Kat Smith from Pexels

A follow-up, just for Willow, of “I Cannot See My Feet No More.

Me reading it!

I held time today

I held time today.

It felt all sifty, like new-cast snow

yet
parts of it were not.

…Like clay.

-or gravy-

Yes! Time is gravy, I decided, as I rubbed its siftiness between my hands and tried to keep it

-grasp it-
-STOP IT!-

It both thickened and dissolved

leaving behind half-finished projects
…well-meant regrets.

I held time today, and wished for mashed potatoes.

Photo by Spadethief on Pixabay.

©2021 Chel Owens

Import Important, by JulesPaige

Import Important
(99 syllables, Double Ennead Ekphrastic Acrostic
of the split words of Import Important)

I employ the rake to
manage the fall leaves
piling them high at the curb for picking up
or some are for my trees
raked round their bases

tender protection for
inclement weather
might damage the roots that are near the surface
perhaps when snow piles high
over the back yard…

rest well with slow sap, my
trees that shed their leaves
and know that I look for budding health come spring
now though brace for winter;
time for dreamings’ nigh

***

If I too could sleep the winter through,
could I would I sleep thusly
under warm leaf quilts

©2021 JulesPaige

Jules is a poetmaster, weaving words expertly whenever she wishes.

Playground Rules

The class all took the lesson of Hamilton too well;

For, Tom and Brucie vowed to meet -outside- after the bell.

Yet on the way past Foursquare, Sue and Pete each swung a limb;

Tommy had to knock them out before they knocked out him.

Then, at the place of meeting, Bruce deloped and hit the tree;

Tommy cried, “He meant to strike!” and punched him in the spleen.

……

While Sue and Pete and Brucie all sat in with the nurse;

The other kids were singing tales, each with a diff’rent verse.

Said Principal, “These playground fights are such a mixed-up mess.

“Our outside cam’ra’s blurry and the fighters won’t confess.”

All went home to fam’lies, and those fam’lies up and called:

Singing like the children, diff’rent verses one and all.

Photo from Unsplash.

©2021 Chel Owens

Friendship — Hobbo’s Poems

I always love a good Hobbo poem. If you’re not enjoying his works, head over there now!

Photo by George Pak on Pexels.com
Friendship
My imaginary friend
and I both parted, at the end
she never paid her round in bars
or took her turn at doing chores.
She put on airs and took the Mick
but what was really rather sick
and turned our friendship to a joke was when she […]

Friendship — Hobbo’s Poems

Autumnal Acrostic

©2021 Chel Owens

Footsteps, shushed
Amidst Nature’s
Leavings –
Leafings.

or

An expensive carpet, this
Underlayment of leaves
Taken and spread
Underneath these bare trees.
Mind you don’t tread as a somber old man;
Neither should you tiptoe -run, kick, and dance.

——–

©2021 Chel Owens

Acrostic isn’t my favorite ‘form’ for poetry, but can function as a framework for trying to shape a poem. Try it out; especially consider trying it out for my latest Anyone Can Poem challenge at Carrot Ranch!