He held my hand all the way home that night.
Crossing through the graveyard gave me a fright.
That was where he first kissed me,
In the graveyard, so misty.
That was my first kiss in the pale moonlight.
He was a tall, dark and beautiful guy
And I was young and incredibly shy.
My pounding heart, it did race.
Was it the kiss or the place?
Yet remembering it just makes me sigh.
Willie McKay, he gave me my first kiss,
Filling my young heart with oh, so much bliss
But he was leaving for war
And I would see him no more.
A lasting impression left on this Miss.
for "first Kiss" contest
* I was 15 and he was a 21 year old sailor,
My mother was dating his CO and they arranged this date.
After the movie he walked me home and cutting through the
cemetary of St. Peters' church, I had my first kiss.
Is never a crime so earn me awhole.
For all whom thoughts were crack in noon,
And still do not think is right left being dumb.
Would in pre-nuptial undertaken sauntered, when lifted'd had imagined what the world is of its own. If it's a wistful pan of several host or A spiteful mine of volcanic tusks?
Once was a gal who felt so alone
Tornato came up rooted farms home
Landed on wicked witch
Munchkins came out of ditch
Gave dog lollypops instead of bone
There was a time when I stood tall
Especially in college, playing NCAA Volleyball.
Oh, the trips we went on to the various meets
Winning and losing in those much vaunted heats.
We weren't great then, now I can't jump at all.
Used to be I got haircuts for two bits,
Along with a shave and hair tonic spritz,
From the barber bawdy jokes
Juicy gossip from town blokes!
Now for twelve bucks a clip is all I gits!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, ding dong
I stood up to put my mask on
Grabbed the bowl of mixed candy
Took one more sip of Brandy
The smallest one was dressed as Tron
Remember those first imports from Japan?
It seems they were all built for a small man.
Well, the times have changed.
Things are rearranged.
Japan’s building them as big as they can.
There once was a skinny horse name George.
Poor ole soul lived alone in a gorge.
Three fit sheep came his way.
They were traded that day.
Matted, bony, his belly engorged.
Onward He forged, living on the brink.
I’ll save him, one young maiden did think.
Head hung; life was his game.
George, his infamous name.
She prayed; from his needs, she did not shrink.
George would not drink; lips were cracked and dry.
She asked God, “Please don’t let him die.”
Water was his kismet.
Sweet feed filled hope’s bucket.
She cut out mats; whisked away each fly.
Six months later, George was still alive.
Lips were moist; he ate; began to thrive.
With some flesh on his bones,
And relieved of his groans,
The day of her moving would arrive.
The time came when George had to be sold.
Half Arabian, not very old
The old trader’s capers,
You promised them, the young girl cajoled.
How could he live; does he have luster?
Papers lost; no death by distemper.
Confessions on that day,
The girl went away.
Compassion to the horse did whisper.
New owners bought him, his health still poor.
His price and potential was the big lure.
They quickly changed his name.
Greener pastures, the game.
Star’s beauty became his life’s encore.
© June 7, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: A Horse Story
Sponsored by: Carol Brown
(Based on a true story)
I raised an Australian dingo,
no name came to mind but Ringo;
he jumped on me,
ripped my clothes daily...
it costed me plenty of money!
Only once I left him alone;
good grief... my furniture was torn!
Oh, should I be mad...
or be kind instead?
I'll sleep over it for tonight!
All Ringo did was run, bark and howl,
mistaking a small cat for an owl;
They took him away
to the zoo today;
he'll whimper form his cage, not rest!
I'll take him back, lest he behaves;
his lesson he'll learn: good manners!
Now, Ringo just stares
to earn forgiveness...
it's fun to play with him and laugh!
When you started drivin'
You'd want to go dive in
To the passion pits
And watch all the hits
At the good ol' Do-Drive-In
Grandpa was a jolly old winker.
And I was a nine year old stinker.
He was a fish getter
But I did him one better...
I caught Grandpa... hook, line, and sinker!
I still have dreams of my favorite car
It took me to places not really far
On some days it would not start
One day it just fell apart
So few moments we were on par
Stanleys' plane circles wild, fro and aft.
Ollie screamed up: " Throw me a raft!" Oh Ho Oh Ho Oh Ho Oh Ho.
with gathering gators
I won't be here later
One just gave my drawers a big draft. OhhhOhhh....
When they opened the gator to see
which intestine poor Ollie might be.
He plops out pratfall
then looks at us all
and smiles: " hm hm hm, I'm still me."
Stanley: " But I thought.. I thought you were eaten..oo whooo whoo whoo..."
Oliver looks at us, shrugs and throws his arms up.
( Cue music.)
Coo Coo Coo Coo, Coo Coo
This is inspired by Miss Carrie Richards, one of the best.
This Is Another Fine Mess You've Gotten ME Into, Stanley...
How far I have come from dear Ireland,
from Erin to the "Land of the Free."
My heart, left on that shore,
I shall visit no more,
and my image they shall never see...
Statistical Sunday that starts fights
Along with bringing many delights
One simple cowhide ball
So called centralized thrall
Bringing outward competitive rights
Sponsor Royal Trevino
Contest Name SUPER BOWL SUNDAY! **LIMERICK** or **HAIKU**
My first car was a Maverick ... like me !
With a fresh paint job, beautiful to see.
I passed my driver's test,
So full of youthful zest,
Then backed into a pole I didn't see.
see "about this poem" for photo
* true story: one hour after passing my driver's test I jumped into
the car and bumped into a pole backing out of my parking space, marring
the brand new paint job.
for Carol Brown's "My First Car" contest
Francine Roberts 06/03/2012
Resolutions fruitful tricks on mind,
Some reality, some so unkind,
They are just promises.
They often suspend and rob one blind.
Though we keep on making them each year,
Sometimes bringing smiles or single tear,
No, matter what they are.
Ordinary or bizarre,
We take new steps, staying all old fear.
My resolution, be more funny.
Stir my funny bone for my honey.
To bring her more laughter,
Sharing smiles thereafter,
We need, joy, happiness, not money.
Sponsor Carolyn Devonshire
Contest Name New Year's Resolutions
I’m hunting wabbits , are you going too.
Da duh da duh da downtown is a clue.
Watch out for that, doc.
I’ll think I will walk.
Ti, ti, ti, turn quick, wha, wha, what I do.
Sponsor Carolyn Devonshire
Contest Name Techno-Limericks
Hey, how have you been?
Haven't seen you since...when?
Do you remember
Our first November
And all we shared back then?
I loved you - or so I thought
Except those times when we fought.
Then finally I realized
That I just idealized
All the things that you had sought!
We went different places
At such blazing paces;
We sure laughed a lot
At each and every spot.
One of us even stole bases!
Even though we didn't love
Each acted like a turtle dove,
With cooing and billing
Each more than willing
To put the other above!
But time took its toll.
We tired of the role
Of being sweethearts
And playing the parts;
Acting like love was the goal!
So today we meet,
Each taking a seat.
I don't want to fight
Or make a weird sight,
So, now, let's just eat!
The music coarses through my veins
As i run down the street
i don't need to look back
to hear the pounding of the feet
My mind races as i sprint
my lungs struggling to continue
but i hear death come closer
not knowing what to do
i see the glint of metal
as he races after me
not fighting for his honor
it is just blood he wants to see
is this how a hero dies, i ask myself boldly
is this what happens when you refuse to back down
my heart starts to fail, my feet start to slow
with barely enough energy, to turn myself around
All i ever did
was stand up to that school bully
and it may have been the last thing i do
i now understand quite fully
if only i had stepped down
let him spit and walk away
instead, i had to open my mouth
and so the consequences i must now pay
i muster up the courage
puff out my chest and turn
but instead of feeling steel
i feel a steady burn
for in my frantic flight
i must have stepped down wrong
for after everything I'd done
i knew that it was sprung
i fall down to the pavement
fearing the very end
that school bully who chose to chase me
would soon learn to comprehend
that i stood up for myself
and would not back down now
i fought back the tears
and stood without a sound
i waited and waited and waited
for the bully to fly around the block
i sat back down and teared up,
as i yanked away the sock
the pain that radiated shot
through my leg and through my bones
anyone one could tell
from the screeching of my tone
i hobbled to the bus stop
picking out the broken glass
the blood hit the ground
and the ground hit my ass
i sat there in my tears
pondering a lie to tell
one that told nothing of my flight
and one that i could sell
i came home late that night
with relief my mother slept
i hobbled to my bed
and passed out as i wept.
As strong as I'am after all I've been in tune.
Couldn't believe that I lives haven one's unbeing.
Even when am afar to tire to fall asleep.
If then wasn't a time and once I were to reflect.
Since awful truths is all that is coming into being appetative.
Got my first car when I was sixteen
The coolest blue car I had ever seen
A hot rod fuel injected
My foot to floor connected
Iââ‚¬â„¢m surprised I lived to seventeen
I loved my Datsun 280 z
A birthday gift from my parents to me
Drove it for eight long years
When I sold it, I cried tears
To this day, I still miss my baby
*My first car was a 1976 Datsun 280z
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
for the My First Car Contest (Carol Brown)
Vinyl records are still around.
They carry some amazing sound.
If you are able,
get yourself a turntable.
The music you hear will astound.
Those days when the hours fluttered by
Like the wings of a bright butterfly.
Suntanned skin and bare feet--
And the breeze was as sweet
As the fragrance of blueberry pie.
I once had a lime-green auto
The color - I must have been bloto
A pinto by name
Explosive by fame
Would I buy one again - No - Noto
In high school, I had a Falcon made by Ford.
That was just about all that we could afford.
It was from the fleet of Ma Bell.
They drove it a lot, I could tell.
Graduating high school, it was my reward.
It came from the year of 1965.
That was before many of us were alive.
Transmission was a three speed stick.
Sometimes, driving it made me sick.
For more than two years, that was all I could drive.
back then, younger summer evenings,
we ate crabs, oysters, shrimp fillings
chased and downed, my dear,
with Mexican beer,
shortcomings, but no misgivings !
there used to be a beachfront cottage
out there near an old yacht's wreckage,
in the mooring
as a tooth missing from the smile of age !