Best Banjos Poems
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
What are these objects in your frames?
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
Why must they gotta be the same?
Cars and busses, traffic lights
Bicycles and motor bikes
Crosswalks, signs, and steps and stairs
Fire hydrants everywhere
Boats, planes and parking meters
Tickets, fines, misdemeanors
Why are you so fond of these?
Why are palms the only trees?
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
The pictures trapped inside of there
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
Depict a world so bleak and bare
Arid, bland, unaesthetic
Barren, drab, unpoetic
Sterile, cold, antiseptic
Unconcerned, apathetic
Somber, sad, and desolate
Woeful, bland, pedestrian
Weary, grim, dreary, hopeless
Grainy, gray, out of focus
It doesn’t need to be this way…
Many things could fill your squares
Why not fill these things in there?
Tambourines and castanets
Bass trombones and clarinets
English horns and piccolos
Harpsichords and xylophones
Fiddles high and Irish whistles
Jingle bells and finger cymbals
5-string banjos, mandolins
Saxophones, accordions
Desmond Tutu and Mandela
Cassius Clay, Cinderella
Charlemagne and Genghis Kahn
George and Ringo, Paul, and John
Twain and Edgar Allan Poe
Wayne and Brando and Monroe
Ida Wells, Frida Kahlo
Steinem, Parks, and Ferraro
River Thames and stormy seas
Winter wrens and bumble bees
Cyprus, ash, oak, fir, and pine
Sassafras, willow, and lime
Daffodils and magnolias
Marigolds and begonias
Cabbage, beets, and potatoes
Carrots, beans, and tomatoes
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
If your pictures must remain
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
How aboutcha change the frames?
Captcha circles, captcha suns
All the captcha olygons
Wiggly captcha twiggly lines
Twisty captcha twiny vines
Captcha diamonds, captcha hearts
Captcha clovers, moons, and stars
Captcha ribbons, Captcha lace
Captcha colored string bouquets
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
We understand you're here to stay.
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
Just be more creative, OK?
Categories:
banjos, funny, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
On a Sunday in the evening
The old barn becomes a hall
Social place where every weekend
The town folk go for a ball.
The inside is decorated
Lights are lit, the banners sway
By the walls barrels and cartwheels
Wooden stools and bales of hay.
Everybody loves a shindig
Where square dancing is the craze
Violins, guitars and banjos
Loud hillbilly music plays.
There’s a guy who’s always present
He’s the handsome Cowboy Kurt
On his head a leather Stetson
Dressed in jeans and chequered shirt.
Carol comes in golden pigtails
Gorgeous looking in flared skirt
She stands out; her smile is charming
She is hot and likes to flirt.
Cowboy Kurt looks quite appealing
He taps his feet to the beat
As other couples are reeling
Pretty Carol takes a seat.
Kurt decides to mosey on up
And lay his heart on the line
See if Carol would share some grub
Perhaps a swig of moonshine.
Tiny Carol surprises Kurt
Chugging down half a bottle
She eyes him coyly, looking pert
Then starts to jig full throttle.
Stunned Kurt is reeling to and fro
As wee Carol takes the lead
Dance floor clears; they put on a show
Kurt looks like a tumbleweed.
Music wouldn’t stop fast enough
For Kurt who couldn’t square dance
Carol is made of tougher stuff
And has high hopes for romance.
Totally lit and loving it
Carol trots to the outhouse
But when she returns, Kurt has split
“Where’s my man?” Carol does grouse
In his truck Kurt has hit the trail
Head still spinning from the dance
Carol sits upon a hay bale
Hoping he’ll return to prance
After the hoe down was over
Banjos and fiddles tucked away
Cowboy Kurt was still a rover
Out cold on the hay Carol lay.
------------------------------------------------------------
Written 6th October, 2014
A collaboration by Paul Callus and Carolyn Devonshire
Categories:
banjos, dance,
Form:
Rhyme
The moon is bright, and the chores are done
Tonight's the night to have some fun!
The harvest in, calls for a night's hell-raisin'
Take me out in the old hay wagon!
Not far to go, where the old dirt road ends
There on the left, where the oak branch bends
Let's hurry, Pa! ....Hitch the old grey mare!
We'll share with folks sorghum pies I've made
Stop la gaging, there's some moonshine waitin'
I'll wear my calico, with petticoats wavin'
Fiddles playin', and banjos are strummin'
Feet are flying, to some do-si-do-ing!
We'll kick up heels, with a still of whiskey
Come'on old man, while I'm feeling frisky!!!
___________________________________
For the Hoe Down Contest:
Categories:
banjos, funny, happiness, old,
Form:
Free verse
Sank that Annie Laurie, down beneath those waves,
Took with her such fine young crew and not a life she saves.
Left there on the mountain,
Just the wives, the gals, the slaves.
Ne'er hunt nor e'er sing shall these lads so lost,
To mountain folk only known that which had been cost.
Banjos ne'er plucked agin,
Danced their last these kin.
Guitar now does stand forlorn,
Futures so then thusly shorn.
Sank that Annie Laurie, down beneath those waves,
Took with her those mountain folk to coldest watery graves.
SeaWolf
©
Categories:
banjos, sea
Form:
Rhyme
"The Folk Dance"
On the backs of well formed muscular miners
Working hard in the trenches on a daily basis
For the men who need coal, fat cats and such
Dirty, sweaty and tireless toil try to wear them down
Dehydration and soot inhalation runs rampant
An epidemic throughout lower Appalachia
The jobs they need, for their survival indeed
Their meager paychecks insist they must do it for the love
Ten to fourteen hour shifts and then they collapse on the bed
Six days of the week it's merciless work to anybody
Sunday comes and they can take a day of rest
A certain buzz going around electrifies every last person
Timing is just right to surprise the deserving workers
Since people have prepared to throw down a hoe down!
The good old fashioned type with the elongated dresses
In classic style with seemingly everybody statewide participating
With a do-se-do and an allemande left good country spirits spin uproariously
Twisting and turning to chanted rhythms on a hard packed dirt floor
Inhibitions are nowhere to be found amongst these family friendly folk
Arm in arm with strangers they know each other wants a fair time
Soon the energy starts rocking to the extended company outside
The hootenanny has grown too big for just one barn, they are tireless
"Well Shucks." says the fat cat "I don't work them hard enough!"
Watching from afar he fumbles with his pocket watch just a little miffed
A raucous good time for a genuinely good people
The orchestrator slows it down some and pulls out his granddaddy's autoharp
Relaxing to an old fashioned twang, the couples do their thing
Getting closer to each other rocking calmly to and fro
Feeling four minutes of tenderness with filled loving concentration
Because those seconds are the fleeting ones
Then the banjos bring the pace back up to complement rowdy fiddles
Moving and twirling, elation fills the air for a chance at remembering
Why they are alive for each other, ingenious in its simplicity
While Merriness is their motto
And not even the coal mines can make them forget that
Categories:
banjos, happiness, life, old, work,
Form:
Free verse
Natures bugle call to action
Daffodils trumpeting springs arrival
Bluebells sprout from hidden tubas
Spring is playing us its symphony
Battling banjos played on sunny porches
as the sun sets you can imagine a cello recital
or guitars played by camp fires
summer times Renaissance
The years clock is beating out on a tin drum
Leaves falling softly making the sound of a tambourine
played softly by the ghost of Karen Carpenter
Autumn drops on us like a drum roll at the end of a song
Lift your voice at winters arrival
sing carols to your god and celebrate his son
a choral celebration of the years end
sing songs of the seasons
comp entry 03042016
Categories:
banjos, nature, daffodils,
Form:
Free verse
My prankster, older son, came home from college, just the other day.
He saw such great possibilities, in how, he, with the Trolls, could play.
Now, you must remember, my son, has always been, a tad bit wild.
But, he truly is a charmer, when he has a new brainchild, compiled.
The Postman had been so Leary of dropping off mail, with the Trolls about.
So daily, I would greet him, explaining, they were really harmless, big old louts.
And I complained a little, of the time spent, to convince him, back at the house.
So my son took up the cause, yes, he was actually going to try to help me out.
Each day, he got the mail, I was so proud that he was trying to solve my plight.
He said he had an idea, which he would try, the last day in town, to set it right.
Of course, I believed him, he was my son, and I felt such pride, as he drove away.
Then I waited for the surprise, he’d set with the Trolls, to make everything OK.
The postman made his rounds, as usual, until he came toward our house.
Then he shot off like a rocket, which was truly outward bound… the louse.
So I ran out to catch him, for in his hurry, he’d forgotten to drop off my mail…
But he was so fast that I missed him… so back to the house I did sail…
In front of the garage… sat 3 Trolls in bib overalls in their rocking chairs.
Across their laps lay shotguns, yes, the really heavily gauged ones…
And there before my eyes were crickets playing banjos all around…
With ‘Deliverance’, the song they’d used, to make that mailman bound…
But don’t worry; I got even with my prankster son… To end this tale…
The next time he ask for money… I said… the check is… in the mail.
1st place in the Contest: Smile Your on Candid Camera
Categories:
banjos, adventure, fantasy, funny, imagination,
Form:
Light Verse
On a Sunday in the evening
The old barn becomes a hall
Social place where every weekend
The town folk go for a ball.
The inside is decorated
Lights are lit, the banners sway
By the walls barrels and cartwheels
Wooden stools and bales of hay.
Everybody loves a shindig
Where square dancing is the craze
Violins, guitars and banjos
Hillybilly music plays.
There’s a guy who’s always present
He’s the handsome Cowboy Kurt
On his head a leather Stetson
Dressed in jeans and chequered shirt.
Carol comes in golden pigtails
Gorgeous looking in flared skirt
She stands out; her smile is charming
She is hot and likes to flirt.
Cowboy Kurt looks quite appealing
He taps his feet to the beat
As other couples are reeling
Pretty Carol takes a seat.
Kurt decides to mosey on up
And lay his heart on the line
See if Carol would share some grub
Perhaps a swig of moonshine.
Tiny Carol surprises Kurt
Chugging down half a bottle
She eyes him coyly, looking pert
Then starts to jig full throttle.
Stunned Kurt is reeling to and fro
As wee Carol takes the lead
Dance floor clears; they put on a show
Kurt looks like a tumbleweed.
Music wouldn’t stop fast enough
For Kurt who couldn’t square dance
Carol is made of tougher stuff
And has high hopes for romance.
Totally lit and loving it
Carol trots to the outhouse
But when she returns, Kurt has split
“Where’s my man?” Carol does grouse
In his truck Kurt has hit the trail
Head still spinning from the dance
Carol sits upon a hay bale
Hoping he’ll return to prance.
After the hoe down was over
Banjos and fiddles tucked away
Cowboy Kurt was still a rover
Out cold on the hay Carol lay.
*Written October 6, 2014
by Paul Callus and Carolyn Devonshire
Categories:
banjos, dance, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
When a ladder leaps like a lady bug
and the patterns turn away
Where the coffee needs an electric plug
now on any given day
Will the sun outlast it’s father
as the field comes round the bend
Till the winds forget to bother
and the season calls an end
Collected like a postage stamp
that's far too sharp to lick
Or a Sunday at a summer camp
just pulling off a tick
Found along some checkered highway
in a bag thrown in the air
Can you count the lonely buttons
that are tangled in your hair
Now I feel the lamp light burning
as the banjos start to wail
When the stars at night are churning
and a comet cuts its tail
Will you stand beside me waiting
for the promises I keep
In the land of old pajamas
that shall find us in our sleep
Categories:
banjos, fun,
Form:
Rhyme
Hare Krishna's
In their Pickups
Depressed Comics
Down on their Luck
Teenage Girls
Screaming Meme's
Commie Pinko's
Leftward Leaning
Vincent Price
Flo and Eddie
Rodger Rabbit
Priscilla Presley
Nuns in Habits
Dwarf's in Ponchos
Deadbeat Dads
Munching Nachos
Right-Wing Nut Jobs
Trading Slogans
A few Hero's
Including Hogan
Are just a few of the sights you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Buddhist Monks
With Electric Banjos
Holding Signs Up
Of Marlon Brando
Taxi Cabs
Blaring Show Tunes
Pregnant Women
Down-loading Soon
Derby Jockeys
Flying Monkeys
Kool-Aidholics
Skittle Junkies
Bozo The Clown
Bumper Stickers
Psychedelic
Crazed Toad Lickers
Rhinestone Cowboys
In their Skivvies
Gothic Girls
Heebie Jeebies
Are just a few of the sights you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Blue Haired Granny's
In pink Moo Moos
Ballerina's In
Tattered Tutus
Mathematician's
Number Crunchers
Even have Some
Out to Lunchers
Model 50's
Do Wop Daddies
One More Round Of
Flo and Eddie
People Sneaking
Across the Border
Lonely Fry Cooks
Taking Orders
A Few Wannabes
Not Saying Much
Will The Real Elvis
Please Stand Up
Are just a few of the sights you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Thank you...Thank you very Much
Ladies and Gentlemen
Elvis...Has Left The Building
Categories:
banjos, funny, humor,
Form:
Free verse
This free love session
has made a man out of me
barefoot girls dancing everywhere!
beards and banjos
the young hippie chick
with the flowers in her hair
I'd love to go on a trip myself, amen
said the old man selling brownies
and then the band
fires up and I hear an
overwhelming roar
and I gravitate
to the music
Categories:
banjos, celebration, dance, happiness, sunshine,
Form:
Prose
Scott Joplin, Paul Simon and the Beatles pop,
The Stones, Dire Straits and, Yes & ZZ Top.
Bob Dylan plays his heart out, Northern Soul,
Rod Stewart, The Traveling Wilburys do their stuff,
And as if that isn't enough, there's Jeff Wayne,
With his War of the Worlds in a musical vein.
Cajun, Bluegrass and Dueling Banjos to boot.
I got Spike Jones & his city slickers, what a hoot.
Bill Haley, Leo Sayer, and some Monkeys abound,
Each one giving out their awesome own sound.
Now Meatloaf is a band I love to hear.
Coming close behind is the great Chris Rea.
Eric Clapton always stops me in my tracks,
Charlie Parker and Stan Getz on their Sax,
Some great big band sounds at their backs.
All this and more on my headphones tonight,
Just listening to music has been my delight.
I have cleared all the shelves, nothing is left,
All on my spare hard drive, I'll not be bereft.
I hope the charity shop this stuff can sell,
So more folk can enjoy this music as well.
© Dave Timperley 25/10/2018
Categories:
banjos, music,
Form:
Rhyme
D Daisy plays, and Violet bathes in a sudden evening rain
A Anointed too, is Rosie's face, with every gentle drop
N Narcissus squeals with laughter, too, and sings a sweet refrain
C Crickets dance, wear plaid berets, and do a Celtic hop!
I In the mud we’ll find two weeds, they flop about a lot!
N Nanny Mum, and Granny Plum , play banjos in the band
G Gardenia's cheeks are white and sleek, she scrubs from end to end
R Rabbits hear the jubilee, and from their holes they pop
A A squirrel or two, come down the tree, where all the fuss began
I In spite of fear, the little mouse, looks out to see what’s up
N Nearby, the cat, just waves his hat, allows the mice some fun!
D Dogs join in, start chasing cats, they splash, and play like kids
R Rainbows fill the evening sky, where now the sun peeks in
O Overhead, the clouds are tinged, in greens, and blues and reds
P Pretty is the world tonight, refreshed, and smelling good
S Softly now the pitter-pat upon on the evening’s hood
________________________
Submitted for PD's Acrostic Contest:7/3/14
Categories:
banjos, animal, rain,
Form:
Acrostic
Saturday Farmers’ Market
Here’s how it goes at our Farmers’ Market:
shoppers all ages, clothing, and races,
parents push bundled babies in strollers,
children dash eagerly through the crowd.
Others meander to and fro, seeking
new food and old faces they know.
At the top are the hucksters and politicians
handing out stickers, buttons, petitions.
There’s music: guitars, banjos, accordions,
fiddlers, and a guy playing a digeridoo.
There’s lines for coffee, authentic Peruvian;
for fresh-baked bread: ciabatta, focaccia;
for pasta: fettuccini, tagliatelle, agnolotti, maccheroni,
chitarra; for cheese: Locarno, cheddar, gouda, and brie.
There’s heirloom tomatoes, bok choy, lettuce, kale,
Swiss chard, Satsuma mandarins, Fuyu persimmons,
just-ripened peaches, nectarines, pears,
fresh strawberries, blueberries, plums,
just-caught mackerel, salmon, sole,
a homeless guy peddling his Sparechanger rag.
There’s just-caught mackerel, salmon, sole,
fresh strawberries, blueberries, plums,
just-ripened peaches, nectarines, pears,
Swiss chard, satsuma oranges, and fuyu persimmons.
There’s heirloom tomatoes, bok choy, lettuce, kale;
cheese: locarno, cheddar, gouda, brie;
pasta: fettuccini, tagliatelle, agnolotti, maccheroni, chitarra;
and fresh-baked bread: ciabatta, focaccia.
There’s lines for coffee, authentic Peruvian,
and music: fiddlers, a guy playing a digeridoo,
guitar, banjo, and accordion players.
At the top, handing out stickers, buttons,
petitions are hucksters and politicians.
Seeking new food and old faces they know
are others meandering to and fro.
Children dash eagerly through the crowd, their
parents push bundled babies in strollers.
With shoppers all ages, clothing, and races,
that’s how it goes at our Farmers’ Market.
Categories:
banjos, children, community, confusion, family,
Form:
Our family got the news today
Our bubba's gettin' hitched
Young Daisy Mae, she's near fourteen
Got our boy bewitched
He's sayin' that he loves her
He's making her his bride
She's the first to get him this close
Though not too many tried
We've got to get things ready
Send invitations and make candles
We've got to get the good jars out
The one's that still have handles
The minister is on alert
We've got to make some shine
Grandpa says he'll make some up
But, it will not all be mine
Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash
With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash
The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow
The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow
This time there'll be no shotgun
Like the last time for old Ben
This time the guns are empty
Not the way they were back then
The banjos will be tuned up
There'll be music in the air
The cops won't try to stop it
I think most will all be there
The ladies will be planning
Just how to serve up all the grub
While Bubba has to find a suit
And therein lies the rub
He's never worn a suit at all
Not even for a day
He's only dressed in coveralls
And that's how he's gonna stay
Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash
With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash
The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow
The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow
It'll be a wang dang doodle
A hell of a good time
It'll only be completed
When they run out of the shine
there'll be singing and some dancing
Underneath the harvest moon
We can't wait for it to happen
It cannot come too soon
There'll be readings from the bible
Which the minister will read
And as good holy Christians
Everyone will heed
There's sure to be some fighting
Before the couple say "I do"
I mean, they are both cousins
I'm gonna go...aren't you?
Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash
With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash
The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow
The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow
Categories:
banjos, america, funny, humor, love,
Form:
Rhyme