Best Barnstormer Poems
While strolling through the graveyard the other day, I was drawn,
To a host of stones with creative and pithy epitaphs etched thereon!
Such flowing poetic verse is deemed worthy of recording for posterity,
Due to its peculiarity, sincerity, rarity and macabre hilarity!
"Here lies Gus riddled with lead! The high sheriff shot him dead!"
"He brewed the finest booze in the county! 'Til a G-man shot him for the bounty!"
"From his horse Red was throwed! He was the finest feller we ever knowed!"
"His jealous spouse cut short his life! With a twelve-inch butchering knife!"
"She slipped on a derelict banana peel! The bump on her noggin failed to heal!"
"He failed to slow down and swerve! Lost his nerve and missed the curve!"
"If you think this place has no appeal! How the heck do you think I feel?"
"Here lies the late bullfighter Umberto! He was fatally gored by el toro!"
"Clyde owns this piece of real estate! Or that's what he claims, at any rate!"
"Barnstormer Barney has flown the coop! He failed to negotiate an outside loop!"
"Cowpoke Pete has bit the dust! From his wild cayuse he was abruptly thrust!"
"A slug ended the career of gambler Steve! Seems he had some aces up his sleeve!"
"Too much cholesterol is how he met his fate! Docs warned him but 'twas too late!"
"She met her doom skating on the ice! Tried to do the triple axel thrice!"
"He always enjoyed a nickel cigar! Alas, his flame died out due to too much tar!"
"Upon my stone let no bird alight! Should that happen, please clean off the blight!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
The avalanche crashed an ax from nimbus peaks
these shrouds a pall a maul splitting my shield
this smur slurs my weakened war paint
my skin my beat my breath my breast
gray matter clouds —a pock-marked-psyche wears the ruse of ceruse
cosmos charity clouds once white like daylight once light as sea foam
blown and flown to the expanse of ether airy spirits afloat
now a iron-heart-anvil I’m horizontal
..an empty fossil-frame pressed into earth
these clouds these shrouds upon me
around me about me they cry
my lantern dampened they know why
cataract-clouds dimmed my gaze
they’ve simmered and condensed
they’ve become incensed
they drape me a caterwaul shawl
oh mamma sky your cirrus streams my suckle sweet
nourish my flourish rock me frock me your cumulus crib and fleece
from nest on high fledge me bluebird spry
freckle me starling’s starlight speckle
myself the Milky Way instead of ash-of-flame remains
constellated skin depicts our myth and marrow sagas
my mouth alive with words of the winds
iambic tranquilize of zephyrs sweeping wheat
and lyric wrath of gales aggrieved stripping leaves from trees
with barnstormer speech
cleanse my lens with see-through-rain till wet with reflection
that upends the blur and burr of clouds crashing down
— keep them mamma sky beyond where they belong
so I may return and re-emerge — reimagined
Over the horizon is heard the sputtering engine of an unusual bird.
Trailing a billowing plume of smoke, it looked so pathetically absurd!
Coming into view was an old Curtiss Jenny of World War One fame.
Used only as a trainer, faster, more stable planes put it to shame!
The dashing young pilot buzzed the field and waved to the crowd.
Distraught moms covered the ears of their kids to ease the din so loud!
He did a barrel roll and a loop and people thought the man insane!
He made a wobbly landing, alit, gazing about with haughty disdain!
Doffing his goggles, his oil-stained face looked like that of a raccoon.
The handsome interloper caused young ladies to gasp and swoon.
He smiled a smile that would light up the night and gallantly salutes!
He's so striking in his breeches, helmet, leather jacket and shiny boots!
He grandly announced, "For five bucks I'll take you for a ride,
In good old faithful Jenny here, my joy and my pride!
Now don't be shy, step right up! How about you there, Dad?
Let me give the thrill of a lifetime to that there young lad!"
The young fellow with his Ma and Pa did earnestly plead.
Ma and Pa argued about it and Ma tearfully agreed.
That flight sparked a burning flame in the soul of that young boy!
He became a World War Two fighter ace much to his parent's joy!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved