Poems about sandals

Something about the woven leather
Reminds me of sandals you once wore,
In the garden enjoying the sun.
Your shorts and that old cotton vest
The one that was probably once white,
But Nanny wasn't around to do your whites anymore,
And so it grew greyer as your hair grew whiter.

The sun's rays danced through the waves of your hair
And into the garden,
Filling it with light, shining down upon plastic flowers planted among coloured stones.
Smells of stale cakes from bargain stalls and the sugar from flat lemonade in murky cups wafted out the back door and clashed with that overpowering cooking smell as you sat in your sun lounger and baked yourself in vegetable oil, cooking your Irish skin to a crisp!

The flower patterns of your walls in the garden and cast iron patio furniture,
The plastic mat that covered the carpet and always managed to trip us,
The halogen heater in the parlour and blanket on your knees,
The clumps of bullseye sweets in your locker and Quality Street tin of empty wrappers,
The damp and stale smells of the kitchen in your care,
The holy pictures and moving Jesus on the stairs,
The bath marbles we loved to play with and how they'd smash upon collision,
And the pink, silk quilt that enveloped your bed,
They're all pieces in the mosaic that illustrates your memory now and they'll never be broken.
I've glued them so tightly together it's as strong as your jaw!
Your jaw, always known to make eyes water when you'd turn during a goodbye kiss on your cheek and crush our noses! Even when we tried to approach with caution! But oh what anyone of us wouldn't give to feel that again, just to say goodbye and think we'd be over to the Bluebell to see you again.

So now I sit and look at the woven leather on my sandals and remember all the details, all the memories that are woven together to make you. Sometimes I wish I could click the heels together.
Bluebell
Bluebell
Bluebell
And be back in that garden, once more.

I caught the woman who fell to earth
In a net for butterflies
Kept her in a jar
Fascinated
I couldn't get her diet right
So I had to let her go
I think she hitched a lift down the freeway
With a hippy called Chris
Dressed in sandals and a tie dye tee-shirt

My dream
For you and
I, to be
At peace
Somewhere
Secluded
On an island
Just the
Two of us
But
You won't
Let go of
That chokehold
That release's
Your freedom
To breathe.
You're confident
I love that
About you
I don't have
To bound you
Or whip you
With chains,
I ain't afraid
Of your
Fire
Our passion
Is ignited
When you don't
Hide it,
Run away with
Me beautiful
Leave those worries
Behind.

Littlest things I'm thinking of you, avocados, toast, a shirt you'd wear, my tears they spout at socks and sandals, my life I have no clear handles.

Sandals.

Probably seeing
Not much future in anything;
Direction, conspiracy or destination
They play ball with indifference
And walk along,
Feeling comfortably ignored
And alone.

Wise nouns
Who live neutrally
In a downtrodden world.

They have seen
The scratches on their buckles and their hides
Outlive
The downfall and demise
Of innumerable generations.

My love
Goes everywhere
In sandals
Wearing abalone
At her throat.
She calls herself
A commoner,
But I know
She is a goddess
From an older,
Fiercer
Order of things,
A warrior woman
Struggling
To be free.
When she laughs
The birds listen.
When she touches me,
My heartbeat slows.
She says what she means
And knows what she knows.
Unafraid of who she is,
She takes herself
Wherever she goes.
My love in sandals,
Walking.

~mce

You bound strong sandals on my feet,
You gave me bread and wine,
And bade me out, 'neath sun and stars,
For all the world was mine.

Oh take the sandals off my feet,
You know not what you do;
For all my world is in your arms,
My sun and stars are you.

With less, he accomplished more.
With more, many accomplish less.
But wants to leaders of the flock.

With a mission, he accomplished his mission.
By Lord God, he was commissioned.
While others claimed to be called or anointed.

Many honestly couldn't walk in his shoes.
Many barely above those assigned rules.

He fed.
He healed and raised the dead,
Yes, the original Miracle Man.

All done by him in his robe and sandals.

He assigned and supported his disciple crew.
Many he knew at an instance might break a few rules.
But within his group, he had the best protectors.

Is this a man we all should be following after?

A man we knew in description wore a robe and sandals.