RED SHOES, WHITE SHOES, BROWNS AND BLUES

GOD, THERE ARE SO MANY HUES!

LEATHER, PLASTIC, FABRIC TOO.

STITCHED AND MOLDED, ASSEMBLED WITH GLUE.

SLIP-ON, VELCROED, BUTTONED AND TIED

ALL THESE AND MANY MORE HAVE BEEN TRIED.

STACK-HEELED, HIGH HEELED, HARD RUBBER SOLED.

MANY BRAND NEW, BUT OTHERS QUITE OLD.

STILLETOS, TOE SHOES, GOING TO AND FRO SHOES

BOW SHOES, LOW SHOES, “LOOK AT ME IN MY ‘HO’ SHOES.”

GOLD, BRONZE, SILVER, STRIPED AND STIPPLED

ALL THIS FASHION HAS LEFT ME CRIPPLED.

CROOKED LITTLE TOES AND BLACKENED NAILS–

DO I STILL LOOK SEXY TO YOU MALES?

WITH ALL THIS PAIN, HOW CAN I EXIST?

PLEASE!  SOMEONE FIND ME A PODIATRIST.

ANESTHETIZED, THEN TENDONS SEVERED

PINS IN DIGITS WITH PILLOWS LEVERED.

DISCOMFORT ABOUNDS FOR MONTHS ON END…

THEN PINS REMOVED SO TOES CAN BEND.

SOCKS WITH HOLES AND MOON BOOTS WORN

ALL OF THIS AND THEN–NEW FEET ARE BORN.

AND NOW, WITH NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE

AGAIN I TRY ON ALL THOSE SHOES.

I SQUEEZE, I WHEEZE, BUT THERE’S NO KEY

TO END THIS FOOTWEAR AGONY.

I’M MAKING A STATEMENT.  TO ALL I DECLARE:

“‘TIL KINGDOM COME, MY FEET WILL GO BARE!”

                                                                                                                    Jan Chapman

                                                                                                                    February, 2007

Long ago I had a pet–

sort of.

I was four, or five

or six.

Can’t remember which.

Memories tightly squirreled in the coin purse of my mind.

Only known to me

I thought,

but just perhaps

my parents were aware

that she was there

and they indulged me.

Or maybe not.

Who knows what lurks in the minds of parents?

She lived beneath

a marbled flagstone.

One of many

which formed

the garden path.

Halcyon days idly spent, when I dreamt sweet dreams.

Basking in the warmth

of that flattened stone

barely moving

rarely leaving

patiently she waited.

For me.

Giddy with anticipation for that secret place, my private space.

A brandished stick

to scoop her up

and as she dangled there

I’d draw her

wriggling body near.

Curiosity?  Excitement?  Or was the enticement–fear!

As I stared

into those hooded,

blinking, slanted eyes

I was mesmerized.

The seasons passed…

Spring came again.

Purple crocus bordered stepping stones after winter’s thaw.

I searched for her.

Where had she gone?

The flagstone

from it’s earthen place

uncovered.

Behold!  A dried, transparent shroud discovered.

Farewell, oh halcyon days.

(And yet, perhaps…?)

Jan Chapman

February, 2012

 

Who makes these rules

and regulations

with their attitudes

and platitudes

looking down the bridges

of their bespectacled,

collectacled noses?

 

Frowning if a word

is offbeat in the sequence

of a stanza.

 

Who determines if I can

or cannot

add an ‘if’

or an ‘and’

or a ‘gee whiz’

if  I so choose?

 

WWWD

What would Webster do

If I create my own new words?

 

Who says it is improper

if I wish to:

A-B-C-D or B-C-D-E, or even P-D-Q or X-Y-Z?

Please, introduce me—

I’d like to give him

a piece of my M-I-N-D.

 

You who are not

faint of heart

LIVE outside your B-O-X!

                                                                     Jan Chapman

                                                                    Winter  2007

 

A slash of wrist

A knotted twist

Bottle of booze–a plastic bag

Douse of chloroform on a rag

An ocean plunged

A life expunged

Overdose for stimulation

There is always immolation

Car exhaust

Die from frost

Chambered bullet for Roulette

Do I have one last regret?

I will live another day–

Why you say?

Damn rope broke

Matches-no smoke

Useless blade

Lifeguard saved

Drugs outdated

Alcohol sated

Temperature rose

Nothing froze

Bought a Glock

Wouldn’t cock

Hole in bag

Lost the rag

Tail pipe fell

And what the hell–

                                       Where does one buy chloroform?

                                                                                                                 Jan Chapman

                                                                                                                 March, 2010