Tag Archives: poem about shoes

“My Shoes Go Out Without Me” for What Do You See Prompt, Aug 19, 2024

11 Replies

My Shoes

My shoes go out without me. They do it all the time,
and do the things I never do. They jog. They hike. They climb.
When I wake up I find them strewn throughout the house—
one flip flop on the counter. High heels beneath my blouse
that’s flung across the table where I don’t remember putting it.
I bet they’ve been out dancing—two-stepping and high-footing it.

When my cowboy boots go riding, I’d like to go along.
I’m pretty sure, however, they think things would go wrong.
Perhaps the horse would throw me or I’d wind up getting lost.
I’m sorry that I bought them, considering the cost!
Other people are the boss of all their clothes and shoes,
but when my shoes and I face off, I am the one to lose.

I could take to going barefoot. This would work while at the beach.
Then when all my shoes are out far beyond my reach,
into the surf I’ll wade and then wander out again,
trapping sand between my toes everywhere I’ve been.
So when my shoes get home at night, they’ll be completely clueless
that I’ve left them out as well by venturing out shoeless!

For What Do You See?

Where Your Feet Carry You

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Screenshot

Click on photos to enlarge.

I had been trying to think of an excuse to do a blog on feet and then out of the blue, my friend Angela sent me this quote along with the message, “More inspiration, not that you need it!” What synchronicity was that?  Thanks, Angela, this one is for you.

Upon seeing this post, Forgottenman sent me this message: “In case you’d like to add some feet photos, a few of my favs of yours.”  He’s right. These are my favorite ever photos of feet that I’ve published in blogs in the past:

 

And if you’d like to read my poem about paper shoes, go HERE!

Taking A Hike

6 Replies

My Shoes

My shoes go out without me. They do it all the time,
and do the things I never do. They jog. They hike. They climb.
But when my shoes get home at night, they’ll be completely clueless
that I’ve left them out as well by venturing out shoeless!

 

For Greg’s Four-Line Fiction

Walking Wounded

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Walking Wounded

I have a giant blister growing on my foot,
and I’ve had a breakthrough about what’s at its root.
Its cause is not a secret, no mystery at all.
The truth is that I buy my shoes at least a size too small.
Blame it on my vanity that’s making me a gimp.
My need to wear a daintier size is why I have a limp.

Today’s prompt words are breakthrough, giant, blister, root.

Strappy Stilettos

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Strappy Stilettos

I languish in these pointy shoes with their flimsy straps.
My ankles teeter with their height, I poke out through their gaps.
I don’t appreciate the fact that they’re the current style.
You try walking in such shoes mile after mile!

The material that forms them is so sparing and so meager
that I’ll be darned if I can figure out why gals are eager
to teeter down the street in them or wear them out to dance.
Trying to walk on shoes like this is taking quite a chance!

The truth lies in the fact that shoes like this must be the fashion
of men for whom the look of things is their only passion.
Safety and walkability cannot be their goal,
for feet were not created to balance on a pole

held in by straps that mean the heels can slide from side to side,
prompting a proclivity to stumble and to slide.
Mr. Choo and Ferragamo, if they ever tried to wear them
might have found their shoes inclined to torture and to scare them.

There should be a special Hell made for designers who maintain
that for the sake of passion one must succumb to the pain
of shoes that are a torture. They should have to walk a mile in them
and while they are in agony, be forced to feign a smile in them!!!!

 

Prompt words today are: pointy shoes, languish, lie, meager, appreciate and flimsy. Image by Femme Spirit @Unsplash.

“Spur”ned

6 Replies

 

 

“Spur”ned

Your boots are outlandish. They’re fancy and chic.
I bet they attract all the women you seek,
but your uncanny luck in attracting the ladies
won’t get you to Heaven—may take you to Hades,
for your looks are deceiving. Your spectacular start
won’t prevail when it comes to matters of heart.
Better cancel the wedding, unless, instead,
you learn when you wear your new boots to bed,
what you start you can’t finish. You’ll never be hers
If you don’t remember to take off the spurs!!!

 

Today’s prompt words are deceiving, finish, uncanny, prevail and cancel. 

Aroma Therapy

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Aroma Therapy

There’s a distinctive odor coming from your shoe.
I don’t know what is causing it. I’m sure it isn’t you.
An acquisitive vampire might pay big bucks for it
to augment the fetid odor in his burial pit.
When it comes to hygiene, I have very little tact,
so I have used hyperbole to illustrate the fact
that from the big toe of each foot right over to its pinky,
the fact is not debatable. Your feet are very stinky!

Prompt words today are odor, vampire, illustrate and acquisitive.

My Shoes

45 Replies

My Shoes

My shoes go out without me. They do it all the time,
and do the things I never do. They jog. They hike. They climb.
When I wake up I find them strewn throughout the house—
one flip flop on the counter. High heels beneath my blouse
that’s flung across the table where I don’t remember putting it.
I bet they’ve been out dancing—two-stepping and high-footing it.

When my cowboy boots go riding, I’d like to go along.
I’m pretty sure, however, they think things would go wrong.
Perhaps the horse would throw me or I’d wind up getting lost.
I’m sorry that I bought them, considering the cost!
Other people are the boss of all their clothes and shoes,
but when my shoes and I face off, I am the one to lose.

I could take to going barefoot. This would work while at the beach.
Then when all my shoes are out far beyond my reach,
into the surf I’ll wade and then wander out again,
trapping sand between my toes everywhere I’ve been.
So when my shoes get home at night, they’ll be completely clueless
that I’ve left them out as well by venturing out shoeless!

 

We were asked to write about an ordinary objects For dVerse Poet’s Pub.

The Inkling

11 Replies

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The Inkling

I haven’t an inkling what I ought to do
about that weird spot on the tongue of my shoe.
Don’t know how it got there, don’t know what its made of.
And such a strange color! I don’t know the shade of
odd pigment that it might be properly called—
somewhere between baby pig and grandpa-bald?

What color is pink to end up on your shoe?
With pink on his toe, what’s a fellow to do?
If there were a shoe wash, I’d go in a blink,
but since there is no sort of place, then the sink
is the place I will go to to wash off this matter—
this slimy soft substance that looks like a batter.

You may think I’m silly to make such a fuss,
to blather and worry and mumble and cuss,
but these shoes are brand new and my favorites, at that—
undeserving of refuse left by the cat.
Now the cat’s in the barn and the shoe is restored.
Almost. Must that shadow just be ignored?

I’ve dined out on this story ’till friends are all bored.
As they approach me, I hear them say, “Lord,
protect us from more boring talk of his shoe.
Please let him not mention that gloppy pink goo.”
They may call me a heel, these folks I’m among
as I tell them once more how the cat got my tongue.

But I can’t abandon those images that
that mess on my shoe was left by the cat.
On what innocent creature might she have dined—
its tiny pink corpse so sadly reclined
on the tongue of my perfectly saddle-soaped shoe?
My friends will not listen, so I’m telling you!!

 

The prompt today was inkling.

 

Arachnopanic

20 Replies

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Arachnopanic!

Jeepers creepers, what’s a girl to do?
A great big spider just climbed into my shoe.
Don’t have a Prince Charming to drive the fella out.
Cannot think what else to do but panic and to shout.
Guess I’d better collect my wits and make a plan.
Get a glass of water, a squeegee and a pan.
Sacrifice my shoes and pour the water in.
Ruining a  Jimmy Choo surely is a sin!
When I poured it in the spider scurried out.
Lifted up the squeegee and gave him quite a clout.
Squeegeed the remains into the little pan.
I’ll give it a scrubbing—later—when I can.
Go out to the garden to empty the remains.
All my sins will wash away, later when it rains.
No Prince Charming needed. I handled it myself.
Next time I’ll store my Jimmy Choos safely on a shelf!

Today’s prompt word was “Panic.”