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Best Robert L. Hinshaw Poems

Below are the all-time best Robert L. Hinshaw poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Robert L. Hinshaw Poem

Soul Of An Angel, Life Of A Moonshiner

He served as a deacon in his church and was as pious as they come.
(But on the side, he sold whiskey from a thirty-gallon drum!)
He taught the junior high Sunday school class and was a Bible scholar.
(But on the side, he 'stilled moonshine way back up in the holler!)

He was faithful in tithing ten percent of his ill-gotten gain.
(For his John Barleycorn he used only the best obtainable grain!)
He occupied the same pew every Sunday listening with attentive ear.
(It was rumored about that he also brewed some very potent beer!)

He proffered an "amen" at appropriate times and wore a suit and tie.
(He was renowned throughout the county for his very delectable rye!)
His tenor voice blended well when singing, "I Love Thy Kingdom, Lord."
(On back roads he did a bit of bootlegging in his hopped-up V-8 Ford!)

He was the first to offer succor to widows, orphans and others left bereft.
(He'd run his still for years - at evading "revenooers" he was very deft!)
When folks were needed to serve on committees he was first to volunteer.
(When asked his occupation he replied, "I'm a 'Spirit'ual Engineer!")

At Yuletide he was generous with the preacher giving him a beef, cash and pork.
(At the annual church picnic he surreptitiously passed a bottle to uncork!)
There couldn't be found a finer saint in all of Boondock County, Kentucky.
(He'll continue to "minister" to parched throats thereabouts - if he's lucky!)

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)

Won First Place in the April 2011 Soup International Contest - September 2011
First Place in Paula Swanson's "Fill In The Blanks" Contest - June 2010


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Warriors' Hymn

Lord, place Thy Hand on the yoke of those who fly,
And guide them through the vast reaches of the sky.
Bring them safely through their perilous flight,
And may they ever look to Thee as their Guiding Light.

Lord, protect the sailors who sail the treacherous seas.
Calm the roiling waters that they may cruise with ease.
May they always look to Thee as their Pilot for support,
And with Thy guiding hand, bring them safely home to port.

Lord, protect the soldier with Thy mighty sword midst the battle.
Give him strength to press on despite the muskets' rattle.
Hear his fervent supplication for Thy protection from all harm,
And provide him with courage as he leans on Thy eternal arm.

Lord, shield the brave marine as he storms the dangerous strand.
Strengthen him with fortitude and provide Thy protective hand.
Surround him with Thy angels as he strives to overcome the foe.
Bring him safely through the conflict and upon him honor bestow.

Lord, bless and provide comfort to his family, for they also serve.
Until that day they are one again, give them hope and steady nerve.
Hear their prayers O' Lord, for the safe return of heroes dear,
And from their trust, hope and faith in Thee, may they never veer.

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved


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Bury Me In My Jeans

"I've rode the range now fer nigh on sixty years,
Brandin' dogies and ropin' them wily Hereford steers.
When I come to the end of the trail, I don't want no big scenes.
Boys, jes' wrap me in my hoss's blanket and bury me in my jeans!"

"I don't want you fellers carryin' on and bellerin' when I'm gone.
Jes' say a few kind words, git back in the saddle and carry on!
Think of me now and then when you're chewin' yer bacon and beans.
'Jes promise me you'll wrap me in a blanket and bury me in my jeans!"

"Promise me you'll take good care of my faithful hoss, Old Dan,
And let him tag along on roundups on the range when you can.
I love cowboyin', but boys you know I ain't a man of means.
Jes' wrap this poor old soul in a blanket and bury me in my jeans!"

"Buck, you kin have my scruffy boots and old sweat-stained hat.
Rusty, you take my saddle - Red, you kin have my 44-caliber gat.
Them's my worldly goods 'cept fer these jeans that's worn to smithereens,
But promise me you'll wrap me in a blanket and bury me in them jeans!"

"I'd like to be planted on that knoll yonder 'neath that ponderosa pine.
If you kin scare up a preacher to send me on my way, that'll do jes' fine.
I've been a cowpoke since I was fourteen - I reckon it's in my genes.
Boys, promise me you'll wrap me in a blanket and bury me in my jeans!"

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved



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The Last Rose Of Summer

The last rose of summer is rapidly fading on the vine.

     'Twas once as brilliant as a splendid claret Bordeaux wine.

          Alas, autumn frosts hath wrought their deadly sting.

               Thankfully, another will bring me pleasure come next spring!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved


Details | Robert L. Hinshaw Poem

A Well-appointed Cowpoke

A well-appointed cowpoke, of whom there are still a few,
Wanted to be properly clad for his first job interview.
So, to impress his potential and somewhat cynical boss,
He has a silver-studded saddle throwed across his hoss!

He's wearin' a ten-gallon hat, a Stetson if you please,
And a bandana 'round his neck to catch the dusty breeze.
The dude has a roll-yer-own a-danglin' from his lips,
And a shiny pair of forty-fours a-hangin' from his hips!

He's wearin' a hand-tooled leather belt of the finest grade,
And a "cowboy" shirt and a vest cut from top-grade suede!
A woolly pair of chaps covers his bow-legged knees,
And protects his Calvin Kleins that fit so tight they squeeze!

His gleamin' pair of Tony Lama boots with pointy toes,
Completes what he considers proper cowboyin' clothes.
The silver spurs on his boots glint in the noonday sun;
Ah, he's the ideal picture of a range-ridin' son-of-a-gun!

The boss, arms folded, feet spread, sportin' a knowin' grin,
Didn't seem to be impressed, much to the greenhorn's chagrin.
Sizin' him up from head to toe, he said, "You look fit and able",
Handed him a fork and shovel and sent him to the stable!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved


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Random Entries From My Diary

"I never travel without my diary - One should have something sensational to read"
...Oscar Wilde, 1891

30 May 48:  I graduated from high school today now thank God I'm free!
No more doggone homework, perplexing algebra or teachers bugging me!

7 Jul 48: Enlisted in the Air Force today!  Good Lord! What have I done!
The sarge said, "Forget Mom, Dad and Susie Q! You're now mine, my son!"

21 Oct 48: Finished basic training today with about a hundred other guys.
I thought it'd be more like a Boy Scout Camp! Boy, was I in for a surprise!

15 Feb 49: Graduated tech school at Fort Warren and sent to the Bermuda Isles.
Quite a change for a country boy!  Water, water everywhere for miles and miles!

12 Oct 52: Was married tonight at Perrin AFB with Vera as my beautiful bride!
She was very pert and calm, but diary, I was somewhat nervous I must confide!

23 Aug 54: Our family grew by one today! Leanna, a little girl, my fondest wish!
She was measured by a nurse holding her by the heels! Just like measuring a fish!

15 Aug 55:  Boarded a crowded troopship in New York and set sail for Morocco.
Was beset with a bit of mal de mer since the ship was wallowing to and fro!

17 Oct 57: Our little 'arab' Leslie was born today near Casablanca! What a dolly!
She has a hearty set of lungs, but that's OK, she's a healthy little dude, by golly!

11 Jan 68:  Son Mark was born at the Air Force Academy and seemed a healthy tot!
9 Apr 68:  Alas, we buried Mark today at Evergreen.  Boy, do we miss him a lot!

24 Jun 71: My family and I arrived in Tokyo, Japan, to begin our three-year tour!
Japanese is foreign! For "good morning" do I say, "ohio gazamus" or "bon jour?"

1 May 74: Chaplain Porter notified me that I had been promoted to Chief!
Happy day, dear diary!  I've reached the highest rank!  What a blessed relief!

1 Aug 78: I retired today at Offutt AFB, after 30 wonderful years of service!
After wearing the 'blue suit' all those years, wearing civvies makes me nervous!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Placed No. 3 in Constance La France's "The Diary" Contest - April 2011




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I Touched The Wall Today (The Vietnam Memorial Wall)

Emotions flooded my very soul as I viewed that Sacred Wall.
Etched for all eternity are hero's names who sacrificed their all.
I sensed that I was on hallowed soil as I knelt on bended knee.
I touched The Wall today, but more than that, The Wall touched me.

I offered a silent prayer for each of the names that I caressed.
Tho' their time here was brief, by them we were truly blessed.
They placed national destiny above their own defending liberty.
I touched The Wall today, but more than that, The Wall touched me.

They were ordinary Americans who performed extraordinary things,
Such grand and noble acts to ensure that freedom's bell yet rings!
They gave their full measure that humankind might live free.
I touched The Wall today, but more than that, The Wall touched me.

What might they have become, I muse, had fate not dealt them so,
A teacher, doctor, a farmer?  Alas, we shall never know.
To teach nations The Golden Rule, I suspect would be their plea.
I touched The Wall today, but more than that, The Wall touched me.

Tho' grander monuments have been built for those of greater fame,
This simple yet powerful memorial will keep alive the flame,
Of humanity's quest for brotherhood, peace and dignity.
I touched The Wall today, but more than that, The Wall touched me.

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)

Placed 7th in "The Best Day Of Your Life" Contest
Placed 3d in the "Your Best Poem" Contest" June 2010
Featured Poem Of The Week 2-9 May 2010
lst Place in Security Public Library (Colorado) Poetry Contest - May 2006
Published in Poet Bob Casey's Book, "An Oasis In A Cluttered World" - 2006


Details | Robert L. Hinshaw Poem

Cowboy Saturday Night Hoedown

The cows is lowin' in the old corral and all the evenin' chores is done.
Hank scraped the manure off'n his boots 'cause he's a fastidious son-of-a-gun.
He drew his pay, jumped in his pickup and headed fer Clyde's Saloon,
To quaff some brew, grab a gal er two and dance to the fiddler's tune!

There was a hoedown at Clyde's where cowpokes met ever' Saturday night.
There they danced, boozed and let off steam that usually ended in a fight!
There was a band with drums, banjo, fiddle, bass and a steel git-tar,
And the pianer player Mike McGurk (when they could pry him from the bar!)

A gal named Mousy Bush sang with a voice that quivered like Robin Hood's bow.
That's where Hank hung out Saturday nights to blow his hard-earned dough!
Hank was dancin' the Texas Two Step and havin' the time of his life,
When an incident occurred that occasioned another night of strife.

Some dude splattered a Coors on Hank's new Calvin Klein shirt and jeans.
Now, stuff happens and normally this wouldn't amount to a hill of beans,
But this got Hank's dander up and since he never held his hootch all that well,
He punched the guy, bloodied his schnoz and began a-raisin' hell.

A grand brawl ensued with ever'one tossin' punches, chairs and tables.
There was a heap of cussin' with patrons lablin' others with tawdry lables!
Hank arose Sunday mornin' with a poundin' headache and two black eyes,
But he'll be back at Clyde's Saturday next to enjoy a hoedown with the guys!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved

(Not for the contest)


Details | Robert L. Hinshaw Poem

Snow White And The Seven Dorks

A magic mirror told the queen that Snow White was the fairest in the land!
This put Her Majesty in a terrible snit and to the woods she had her banned!
She hired a hit man to have Snow White slain but he'd have none of that!
He let her go and she trudged along a path and came upon this run-down flat.

She rapped upon the door and hearing no answer stealthily crept inside.
Snow White had never seen such clutter - such a mess she could not abide!
She grabbed a broom, mop and pail and began to swab and dust and sweep.
Weary from her labors she climbed the stairs, found a bed and fell asleep!

The unlikely denizens of the little shack worked in the local diamond mine.
'Twas a 'Grimm' looking lot wending their way home through towering pine.
Dopey the younger, Doc the intellectual, Bashful, he with the coy pose,
Drousy Sleepy, crabby Grumpy, pudgy Happy and Sneezy with finger to his nose!

The little munchkins arrived home to find this beautiful creature in their bed!
She awoke rubbing sleep from her eyes, stared in disbelief and nearly fled!
Eventually, Snow White became a mother figure to that chaotic, motley crew!
She tucked them in bed, cooked their grub and settled beefs when fisticuffs flew!

Each morn the dorks shouldered tools heading for the pit to earn their dough,
Singing a quaint song they made famous, "Hi ho! Hi ho! Its off to work we go!"
Mister Disney made this classic film in 1937 when I was but a mere child!
Even today in my dotage, watching it with my grandkids, I'm still beguiled!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Tied for First Place in Linda Marie's "Disney" Contest - August 2011


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Inspector Tweede

There was no finer detective than Inspector Thaddeus Tweede of Scotland Yard!
He was most astute in solving crimes and could quickly detect a fake canard!
He joined the force as a 'bobby' working himself to the peak of his profession.
You daren't pull the wool over his eyes when he was seeking a confession!

Ah!  He could have been cast in a movie since he was a detective's prototype,
In his tweed suit, tweed cape, tweed deerstalker's cap and ever-present pipe!
When investigating crime scenes he'd mull the facts with his chin in his hand,
Puffing his pipe making copious notes should he be called to the witness stand!

The highlight of his career was solving the case of Prime Minister Percival Hoar,
Who was found by his maid one dark and stormy night sprawled upon the floor!
There was no evidence of forceful entry or anyone breaking through the door,
Nor was there any sign of a struggle, bullet holes or oozing, bloody gore!

Who could have done this dastardly deed that brought the minister to his doom?
He took prints, photos and noted a strange odor as he moved about the room.
Thaddeus called on all his experience and training to solve this mysterious case,
Muttering to himself and doing a lot of 'hmming' as to and fro he did pace!

Eureka!  He noted a bulge in the prime minister's jacket he hadn't noticed before!
Gingerly lifting a bottle from the pocket he deduced he needn't search anymore.
It wasn't a gun, the butler, jilted lover, political enemy or an envious friend
That did the terrible deed - 'twas demon rum that brought the minister to his end!

Placed No. 6 in Soup's International Contest - Feb 2012 ($25 + Certificate)


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