Shoes are shoes are shoes
(makes sense our feet are shod)
Any particular pair we choose
is meant to fit the job:
Florsheims for the office,
Nikes for the street,
Muck boots for the outdoors,
Birkenstocks for the beach.
The shoes we choose we wear
until they’re worn to death;
Then we buy another pair
and chuck the old ones in the trash.
Shoes are more than that
(when shod their feet make sense)
Whether high or low, wedged or flat,
Shoes promise transcendence:
Manolo Blahnik’s for romance,
Jimmy Choo’s for success,
Badgley Mischka’s for the party,
perfect to match the dress.
The shoes they choose they wear
to make a bit of magic;
Cinderella needed just one pair
to make her life less tragic.
© by Mike Orlock.
Used with the author’s permission.
|Purchase a framed print of this poem.
Mike Orlock is a retired high school English and American History teacher who splits time between the Chicago suburbs and a vacation home in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin. He has been married 37 years to his high school sweetheart and inspiration, Liz. His short stories, poems, and reviews have appeared in a variety of publications such as Reporter-Progress newspapers, The Peninsula Pulse, VerseWisconsin, TriQuarterly, and the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets annual calendar.
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Liked the rhyme at the end especially.
Posted 04/13/2013 12:15 PM
Takes a man to capture the wonder of shoes and women, someone who doesn't know the language
even, a foreign man, who can without judgment
see the closet floor, covered with layers of women's shoes, some like the other, just a shade different in color, and write a poem of tribute.
Posted 04/09/2013 05:28 PM
Devilishly clever, Mike. A very good read!
Posted 04/09/2013 09:54 AM
fun poem, Mike--and pretty much true!
Posted 04/09/2013 08:11 AM
Nice work, and nice to (occasionally) see a live poet who dares to rhyme at the end of the line. Probably hard to to get something to fit those iambic feet, though.
Posted 04/09/2013 07:37 AM
Once I wore the girlie shoes
trod all over town.
Danced the Polka Friday nights
really got around.
Bunions, hammer toes have sent
me a mincing stride.
My feet are old; my toes are bent
Shoes wide, deep and tied.
Posted 04/09/2013 07:26 AM
Alas, I didn't get the female shoe gene. Fun poem, though!!
Posted 04/09/2013 04:28 AM