Ode to Our Feet

Gingerbread Feet

Ode to our Feet

Your feet are like slabs of dough
that could be kneaded, folded even in two,
and still would rise back with a little time,
into something between
ciabatta and submarines

that seek mine,
which are like caged birds
with cloths draped over
to get them to sleep–I speak of the socks I must wear
and not our sheets–
and speak of birds not so much
because my feet sing–except sometimes when nosed
by icy submarines–
but of how they twitter inside,
electrically, their too-many bones hooked
to those wires, my feet
being caged,
of how they need a wing to hide their heads,
being also birds,
and of how, being finally feet,
they are wingless,

and I speak too
of how you roll down the socks
and simply hold them
sometimes in the span
of mittening hands,
sometimes in some nest
of rib, some cove
of torso,
knitting a warmth
that wool just can’t
provide, purling from even these
splintered planks, a pooled
opalescence;

and too I speak
of how my poor bony birds feed
on that uncrumbed warmth
cast so sweetly
on these dry waters–

*****************************

Here’s another drafty poem for my prompt on Real Toads, to write something “under an influence.”  In this case, the influence was Pablo Neruda’s Ode to My Socks, which particularly appeals to this big sock lover. 

The pic is of some Christmas cookies made by one of my daughters (or friend) some time ago, and below is one of the pics from the prompt that is a watercolor of mine (that has some fit for the Neruda poem, where he describes his feet as fish.) 

 

 

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9 Comments on “Ode to Our Feet”

  1. Jim Says:

    It seemed these birds had a nice game of footsies ready to go. Literally, I can identify with rolling down the socks. For me it was leg tan control when playing golf. Don’t want really light ankle tops when I wear sandals sockless. (You needed to know that, right?)
    ..

  2. Kerry O'Connor Says:

    Every beloved item should have odes dedicated to them. Such an interesting comparison of feet to caged birds and warm socks are a benison.

    • ManicDdaily Says:

      Thanks, Kerry. I think the poem is a little rough but went with it anyway. I love that aspect of Neruda. You do so well with his sonnets, but I do love these odes that he does.

      I need to figure out a way to make mine more succinct, I think. k.


  3. ” sometimes in the span
    of mittening hands,”

    what an ode to how hands can be so comforting! Lovely second poem – I think you have found a way to get out of a “stoop” . I will have to remember this.

  4. C.C. Says:

    This is beautiful…..and that last stanza tops it off with such a tenderness.


  5. Even when I read the title I realized what would be your inspirational poem… sometimes the socks are not enough.. we need those hands to meet our feet…

  6. hedgewitch Says:

    I love these poems you have done using Neruda’s idea of the beauty and significance of ordinary and unexpected things. This is a very creative love poem, and very warm and human as well–like the need for and comfort of a fuzzy sock.

    • ManicDdaily Says:

      Thanks so much. I think it’s a bit long but maybe will try to cut some time in future. I really do love that idea of attention to the ordinary-/ I should try to focus on it more as it is certainly a subject that is always with us! K.


  7. […] « Ode to Our Feet […]


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