Mud in my eyes
Mud in my fingernails
Mud in the tongue
Mud in the insoles
Mud in the eyelets
Mud in the treads
Mud in the laces
Mud in the stitching
Mud in the cracks
Mud in the crevices
Mud in the cloth
Mud in the plughole
I wonder how
There’s any left lingering
In yesterday’s
Most muddy fields
Today’s task? Cleaning the muddy boots from yesterday’s mucky walk (see Poem 408).
(19.01.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Martin Martz on Unsplash
These boots were made for walking,
for crawling, breaking, brawling,
for stomping, splashing, stalking,
for marching and for talking.
These boots were made for posing
for goth and skinhead moping,
for teenage angst and pouting,
for kicking cans and shouting.
These boots were made for fighting,
for heavy metal striding,
for lasting and maturing,
for polishing, enduring.
I recently acquired my first pair of Doc Martens. As a teen I always fancied a pair, it’s taken a while… They’re quite wonderful, although as my blisters attest, they’re in need of breaking in. Not sure I’ll use them for fighting though!
(10.08.23)
© Ben Quant 2023
Ode for the Day 