Hello Body, How are you Today?

An attempt to write a poem to the parts of my body...If that doesn't grab your attention, nothing will!

Hello Body, How Are You Today?

 

An ode to you, oh body of mine

and all of your bits and your parts.

There are so many roads I guess  I could take,

I don’t really know where to start.

I don’t want to mention my internal things

like lungs and tonsils now missing.

Instead I’ll focus on what can be seen

and that’s my final decision.

 

I’ll start with you, the top of my head

and the hair that sprouts from your scalp.

You, hair, are unruly and addle

you never grow longer...just out!

You defy the law of the apple of Newton

and prefer to stand tall than be tamed.

Just one day I plead that you will lie how I comb you

And not look like a jungle cat’s mane.

 

My ears, now covered by that shaggy mop,

I love you! You’ve done nothing wrong.

And though I’ve abused with barrages of noise

you pick up each note from each song.

Nestled in headphones, your own little hut,

You soak in the rock and the blues.

I am sorry for concerts and unworldly volume

but can’t promise anything new.

 

Now to my pet: the scar on my arm

that looks like a bug when up close.

Caused from a doctor digging in deep,

just a simple thing, he supposed.

The stitches sewn to close the small hole

Did, in fact, look ready to leave.

Apparently not though, only five minutes passed

before I burst open the seam.

 

Speaking of scars, left hand...I’m sorry.

I don’t know where I went wrong.

How can you have eight suture wounds

and on the right hand, there’s none?

Knife lacerations, hacksaws and burns

have all had their taste of your flesh.

While the right’s been sheltered, scar-less and pure.

I am terribly sorry, my left.

 

Ah bellybutton...Did you think I’d forget

How you just cannot seem to decide?

The top half’s an outie, the bottom’s an inny

Like the doctor forgot how to tie.

Make up your mind you umbilical mark!

Do you want out or want in?

I really don’t care which one you decide

just pick one way and do it!

 

So...knees, my friends...how are you today?

My approach to you is with caution.

Today you work and I’m thankful for that,

but I’ve made poor choices for fun.

I know you’ve been beaten and twisted and strained

and I know that one day you’ll quit.

But I ask you “please, with a cherry on top,

when you quit don’t completely submit.”

 

Drop down to feet, the tippy-tip end.

Yup, Bulbous, that’s you.

Out of all the things I could’ve gotten from Dad

why a toe that barely fits in a shoe!?!

You light-bulbed-shaped thing just plopped on the end

of otherwise normal-shaped kicks.

Maybe that’s harsh; it’s not really your fault

you look like a ball on the end of a stick.

 

To all the other parts, the ones that I missed:

sorry, you just didn’t cut it.

There’s nothing remarkable or unique about you

Or perhaps no rhyme I could fit...

Maybe next time, if I do this again,

you’ll be right for the sequel.

Until then, my friends, keep up the good work!

For you have all served me well.

Reviews

[sette]

i like the poem though you found flaw on each part but still the irony stands out there is appreciation in the way you describe them one by one it is like there is a story to tell for each of the part and that comes out an interesting read