Bess’s expressions were grotesque
Most usually weirdly cheerless
She is under unusual duress
Her family is an utter mess
Bess is playing poker more or less
Her deadpan expression not needless
A stickler for rules more or less
My watercress-loving friend named Bess
A pet no one would ever trade
Such loyalty of the lasting,loving kind
Her memory now in cross-stitch made
No replacement,were we to ever find
Still,now in our memory-bank entwined.
We adopted our dog Bess
Collie-cross,black & white,no less;
Perfect in temperament,ready to please
Walking her,my mind at ease.
Each night to her bean bag she crept
In the kitchen , cosy,she slept;
Welcomed all with wagging tail
Without faults,she could not fail.
A pet no one would ever trade
Her memory now in cross-stitch made;
Loyalty of the lasting,loving kind
No replacement,were we to find.
Queen Bess's Uniform
We didn’t want the frostbite
We didn’t want the burns
We didn’t want to leave our homes
And families far astern.
We didn’t like the future
As we grimly sailed away
But we wore Queen Bess’s Uniform
And did it anyway.
We didn’t want the battle
Or the bayonets at night
We didn’t want to lose our lives
In such a distant fight
We didn’t want the air raids
Every moment of the day.
But we wore Queen Bess’s Uniform
And did it anyway.
We didn’t want a medal
Or parades in front of crowds
We didn’t go there
Just because we wanted to look proud.
If we’d known then what we know now
We might have stayed away
But we wore Queen Bess’s Uniform
And did it anyway.
She lay, lonelier than a stone,
hoping for company, any
company, but the only
visitor was Father Time,
come to say Goodbye.
Nothing found
Nothing gained
Nothing verntured
Nothing sane
Nothing more
Nothing less
Nothing forming
Nothing Bess
Veiled from the world the Queen did keep
A 'bastard' girl who cost her sleep
Though tethered down and kept from sight
Still she shone forth as purest light
A brazen heart (to match her hair)
Beat in the breast of 'maiden fair'
She fuelled her lusts for life with love
Of country, and of God above
She sought no spouse to guide, for she
Was wise enough for her country
As fire and ferver burned within
Ne'er a fool charmed his way in
Her sister, on her ravaged throne
Felt only fire for her betrothed
Yet failed to birth a princely son
And ruled and died in fear, undone
And thus, Bess ruled as Princes do
Absolute, and mightily too
And whether truth, or rumour stark
Purity did become her mark
For she who held her own did learn
By passion, one could easily burn
And thus she led, her heart beholden
To England; and their reign was golden
Like quicksilver changing moods in a day
Cousin Bess defies norms, such freakish will;
A dazed mess about her I can’t even explain…
Whenever late, she blames the neighbor’s cat
For tearing the seams of her outlandish dress .
But we have no kitties along our street…
And she gives excuses, displaying waves of fur,
That are tangles from her soaked hair in bad dye
While she faces the mirror, “Yes, I’m the dame!
Until her face cracks , puffed with layered rouge.
Oh, more bedlam quakes when a grandchild asks
If dear cousin is a walking antique;
“ Don’t ever dare think I‘m that old,” vain Bess fumes…
Everyone giggles inside as chaos runs wild,
Upon hearing her sixty-five year old joints squeak!
To prove the household wrong, she rocks and rolls
Fluttering with a mop, the radio blasting on,
Her eyes crazed by an Elvis' bebop tune…
No, no, quirky Bess’ knees lock from asthma,
Into the hospital we race, forgetting her wig!
Brian Davey’s Contest: Cousin Chaos
6/10/2016
Husband Harry was well known for using earthy language now and then.
He used a not so nice word other than "crap" over and over again!
Bess heard that term so often that it became hard for her to endure.
Said she, "I'm trying to get him to clean up his act and use the term "manure!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
There once was a monster called Bess,
Who lived on the shores of Loch Ness.
She was wracked with sudden guilt,
After lifting someone’s kilt,
And said, ‘Hoots mon, what a mess!’
Harry Truman was renown for giving 'em hell
And in such matters he did excel
But he got himself in a terrible mess
When he tried such tactics on dear old Bess
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Entry for Catie Lindsey's "You who....Yo, Clerihew" Contest
"I have a sweet spider," Bess said.
"Don't fear it; just pet it instead!"
But just then "sweet" spider
proceeded to bite 'er.
She stomped on it till it was dead!
For Carolyn and John's Limericks Contest:
"Are You Bugged?"
Pain in the prophecy of wings through sultry sky
Orchestrating vision, love, destiny
Emancipating the tongue to tattle tales taloned with grief
Triumphing in truth to tumult another joy
Reel all poets in, glistening on a silver sliver of string
Yearning to for a final travail, immortality on wing.
Please God, tonight, dry her tears
Oyster her heart in your love
Eternal comforter of cares
Mystic center of the universe, a dove
Perpetual are music mustering our minds to sing
Overtones from the litany of emotions
Easeless wonder, sacrifice, oblation, offering
Tremulous thunder eastering devotions
Sweetly from the ragged anthems of our gift.
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