hounds across the creek
have something bayed....
brown thrasher lands
Tides will lecture us, obtrusively, to our faces,
& it's moments like these we unearth
probity in outlooks and lookouts
to crack the skulls of coconuts. some lives
have small windows, & we, like hounds, look
out & bayed full moons, through panes. & pain,
bringing the high to where the last line
is breathed and we are plumbed. & this
takes fix after fix, to cultivate depravities,
gifts & slumlords, spitting from penitentiaries
the rats & their humans. I saw a few.
This is the kind of stools we sit on
when there is more than blood in our veins
Sometimes guitars sing to us, but the lines ...
are flat, shattered lives. In death,
there's no dreaming, just dumb sleep
The field is given a name.
Battles are about where they disappear,
the ones that walk away
don't know where the hell they are.
There’s a cannon ball under that Yew tree,
there’s a skull under that Ash.
There’s a hank of dried up hair
over there, woven into stone and moss.
After the blood, peace continues destroying barns,
insignia and belt buckles fished out and sold.
Excavated jawbones order and counter-order.
The officers that staggered away
go quietly mad, or marry well.
Surviving hell takes
a lot of stump-footed foraging.
The maimed tell their jerrybuilt tales,
cracked rockers creek along
the slipways of generations.
Hounds bayed at coons.
in the hot afternoons;
that was before the earth gaped open,
before the gore seeped sideways
into the earths wounds.
Good Generals and bad
have had their deadly play,
this scattering and salvage
of the blue and grey that day.
I’m all jacked up on the bottle
And I’m wacked out of my mind
She left me for that mail man
Brown suit done crossed the line
That package she was waiting on
Had two legs and a smile
I’m bout to make a delivery
And I’m delivering red neck style
Ill hunt him with my old coon-dog
Expose with my spot light
Take another shot of whisky
I got a dog in this fight
When you’re messin with my women
You’ve got a country problem my man
I’ve got a first class package
Red neck delivery man
That old coon-dog is bayed up
It about midnight
I slam it in to 4 wheel
His butt is puckered up real tight
Like a tick on a coon dog
Digging in real deep
I don’t need no tracking system
Just my red neck philosophy
So when you hear those glass packs coming
You better scurry up that tree
You can bet your ass I’m coming
You bout to get a piece of me
Cause I’m coming with my coon-dog
Bringing my spot light
I’ll take another shot of whisky
I got a dog in this fight
When you’re messin with my women
You’ve got a country problem my man
I’ve got a first class package
Red neck delivery man
Watch out boy - here I come –
Red neck delivery man
After Sara’s sadly death,
white doves began chime-
Sara’s hubby Brady found hymns,
their music began sorry rhyme.
Brady seeks prose epics,
poems Sara’s heart would savor-
Jenny might speak truth about Sara’s pains,
maybe she’ll spare vague facts midst favor.
Sappy tears sooth Sara’s Grams,
angel wings dream hazel light-
Three girls plant fancy lilac trees,
Mama’s heart broke; gives Brady sight.
Every woman cried,
every bloke bayed-
Papa’s spine flush,
Mama’s roots evade.
Quiet ocean waves bring death peace,
great Sara’s heavy heart shan’t cease.
*about a girl Sara I know who took her life. She had a husband named Brady and three daughters*
Five Letter Words Contest
435 letters total in this poem
87 words total in this poem
Sponsor: Rhoda Tripp
December 17, 2017
To you
the wind whispered
through the old blue shack, words
too soft for meaning, as Yew limbs
scratched answers against the window. In the
distance a lone ewe bayed in its
lost mourning, when heaven's
breath blew my heart
to you.
03/19/16
Monday Morning
When I opened the kitchen door the fridge
had an attack of the shakes then feel into
dejected stillness which bayed in my ears.
To break this force of nothingness I spoke
and sounded like a wounded duck and
the beer bottle held in a clammy hand fell
with a foamy splash on the floor; wordless
fear. Why me?
The fridge rattled again but there was
nothing of worth on its shelves other than
bacon, eggs, cheese. Stop, I feel sick.
Turned on the tap and fat maggots dripped
into my glass, that too ended on the floor;
fled, outside people starred at me because
I was dressed in a red bathrobe with Hotel
Astor stamped on the back.
Copyright © Jan Oskar Hansen
By the sea
By the sea
Where wisps
Of salty air
Fill your breath
Of lonely lovers
And past regrets
And tearful cries
That beckon
Still
Of wishful dreams
They couldn’t fulfill
By the sea
By the sea
Hear me call
Of windy days
That screeches and squalls
With boats bayed and drifted ashore
And storms that have beaten
With a lusty roar
By the sea
By the sea
At war
When I die, no more sufferings
'Cos time has come for me to rest;
Savoring the sound of silence,
Till my Lord's caress
Lifts me up from slumber;
Though, I bayed for His blood
Without cause, yet, He taught me
Of living in righteousness
And led me into His fold;
Moment of truth is near,
For I'm at the doorstep
Of my Father's throne,
Hoping for the jeweled crown,
Eternal life, which no man can give;
A new beginning, where there's no end!
It'll be done, unless, I finish the race;
Giving glory and praise in God's Holiness,
Solely, my raison d'etre up to the day....
When I die.
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