Best Bill Poems
If you ever drive through our small Oregon Town
You won't help but notice the house that's run down
A man called Bill Disney lived there for ten years
When we learnt of his story it brought many tears.
He was covered in burn scars and walked with a limp
As kids we knew no better and called him the gimp
He rarely went out, sometimes stood at his front door
The only one that spoke to him was a girl at the store.
When folks in town died we'd always show respect
What happened at Bills service we didn't expect
Ten Vietnamese women stood by a general’s side
When the general told his story many of them cried.
"It happened in Vietnam in the year sixty five
These women standing here are lucky to be alive
An orphanage was on fire when Bills platoon arrived
Thanks to Bills heroic action everyone in it survived.
He rushed towards the entrance kicking down the door
And he kept going back in and bringing out more
Went back in one last time to check all was clear
So full of determination and he showed no fear.
The heat was so intense and the building ablaze
You could just see the outline through smoky haze
He finally came out and collapsed on the ground
With third degree burns that's what the medics found.
An honourable discharge and then he came here
And a medal of honour for the man with no fear
That rescue changed Bill he was never the same
People avoided him they should bow down in shame.
He was born in New York city but didn't go back
And settled down here to get his life back on track
He'd been missing for a week so the police called around
And got in touch with us when his medal they found ".
The general then added" Bill was one of the best"
And asked for volunteers to carry him to his rest
I looked around the church at all the hands in the air
Felt sad that when he needed help it just wasn't there.
Never judge a book by its cover my mother told me
I wish I had listened to her and helped Bill Disney
At his graveside seven soldiers fired shots in the air
A great shame it took his death for people to care.
Written 12 August 2019.
For bring a character to life poetry contest
Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux.
R.I.P. William Dale Eubanks
d. July 1, 2012, aged 68 yrs., Tennessee Ridge, Tennessee
Death came as no surprise
the first Sunday in July;
it claimed you, on a ridge in Tennessee,
with kin who took you in and waited with you
through the last hard days.
You kept what fears you had well hid,
did not betray with loud complaint
the fate you could not but know awaited.
A smile, a joke, a hug – exotic meals –
And genuine interest greeted all you met.
And you were, certainly, never boring
but well-traveled and smart beyond the telling.
We’ll miss your wit, your bright demeanor,
and will remember all you freely gave ---
and what you took from us
with your passing.
Come by the Sword, Die by the Sword
They stood in ranks a thousand long
High upon the hill
The Roman legion, fierce and strong
With sword and lance and bill
The Briton hoards below them stare
With wild fanatic eyes
They jeer the foe and beg them dare
With anger and despise
Come and fight you cowardly foe
Come and meet your fate
We’ll cut you down, row by row
Send you to heavens gate
With scoff and scorn the Romans yawn
What empty threats you speak
We’ll rip you limb from limb this morn
You’re scrawny, thin and weak
Down below, laughter roars
Your bellies, we will slice
We’ll lay you dead, in your scores
Come prove your men not mice
We will arrive and make you pay
For indolence and taunt
You will eat every word you say
When they come back to haunt
It’s easy up on high to gloat
But everybody knows
It’s our intent to cut each throat
And leave you for the crows
But when we make our move towards
There’ll be no shy nor rests
We’ll plunge our sharp and bloody swords
Deep in those ragbag chests
Think of your girlfriends, mothers, wives
For them there’ll be no gains
Will be, as we, cut short their lives
When we spill out your brains
For one last time you’ll see the sky
Cause you’re not leaving whole
When heathen head is raised up high
On legion victory pole
Gasp deep upon your final breath
Invader of our land
Your destiny this day is death
By rude and brutish hand
With sword and lance and bill
All break into their stride
With voices booming still
Blood fills the wide divide
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March forward to today
Though forces re-arranged
And ask them in what way
Anything has changed
A sex mad codger named Bill
Swallowed a Viagra pill
His todger did rise -
You should see the size
It sure gave his wife a thrill
17th Feb 2015
That’s not my elephant, this here’s Ella my wife
She claims the extra pounds came with her change of life
She now takes ballet, but watching her dance in tights
Sends chills down my spine and gives second graders frights
Her plate’s piled high with lasagna and spaghetti
Chowing down on our drive to the Serengeti
I think every husband should have a bill of rights
“Euthanasia,” I’ll plead, when they read her last rites
Never hid in Jefferson Airplane
Never beat his wife
Never wept on the floor of jail
Never drank his life away
Never ranted on soldiers grave
Never changed his name
Never came back from the dead
In Memory of Jimmy Dale Still, Barrel horse rider, KIA, Song Be, Viet Nam, 1/1/70
Old Bill,
swaybacked, sand burrs in his mane.
He stands no longer hopefull by the fence up near the house,
but follows the shade around the shed,
switching flys.
Nearby the dented barrels
rust rank and file akimbo,
no longer equadistant prey
of steed and gladiator.
Hay in a self feeder.
The last time Jimmy came to break a bale,
carrot in his pocket, bridle in hand,
they were both young,
impetuous,
fearless,
bullet proof.
Bill's walked a trail, deep,
along the fence to the old arena.
Quiet now; full of weeds.
A place for breaking horses.
Hydro bill
Visa bill
Food bill
Toilet paper bill
Heating bill
Wine bill
Car bill
Phone bill
Clothing bill
Duck bill
Buffalo bill
Entertainment bill
Anti acids tablets bill
Insurance bill
Bar bill
House bill
Weed bill
Bakery bill
Starbucks bill
Medical bill
Psychotic drugs bill
Dental bill
Legal bill
( for murdering dentist)
Lawn bill
Maid bill
Sexy maid bill
Super sexy maid bill
Misc hookers bill
Feminists lawsuit bill
Internet bill
Cable bill
Speeding ticket bill
Second speeding ticket bill
(to pay first bill)
Drivers license bill
Tic-Tac bill
Kidney replacement bill
Second wine bill
Netflix bill
Barber bill
Uber bill
Russian translation bill
Predator Bill
Y-Bush bill
Donald Trump
Assassination bill
Legal bill
Alimony bill
Stormy bill
Wild Bill Bailey loved his liquor
far too much for his own good-
Spent his days in smokey taverns
draining far more than he should.
Adeline had long suspected
as he rode off into town
that he'd rather wet his whistle
than get wed and settle down.
So she gave an ultimatum:
'Quit the booze or say goodbye
to my cherry lips and dumplings
chili beans and pumpkin pie'.
Bill no longer wastes his wages
swigging at the ol' saloon
Adeline cajoled her cowboy ;
rumour is they'll marry soon.
27.01.21
Cowboy Poetry Poetry Contest
Sponsor : Line Gauthier
SONNET FOR BILL
He told me of a driving force within
That urged in every game where he took part
An undiminished thrust to always win
Impelled him then to play with all his heart
Thus images of my own recollection
School player and athlete of high prowess
Yet he recalled one minor sport connection
When I, a duffer shared with him success
Though decades would diverge the lives we’d known
Later meetings were with friendliness and grace
Now in this life’s game a final whistle’s blown
It’s time for him to plan next match or race
In a new great game he enters as beginner
Will he yet take part in full, and be a winner
In a little West Texas cow town years ago
There was an old doctor by the name of Hill
Little man, mild mannered, cheerful until made mad
He doctored old cowboys and drunks when things got slow
His usual cure was a kick in the butt and a pill
He had some regular people that weren't to bad
Doctor Hill had some that lived far out of town
On ranches and God awful places Doc was carried
There was one family that lived on a ranch way far out
There name was Brown
An old mother and two daughters not married
The old mother complained to hurt everywhere about
She claimed to be bed ridden, could walk as good as you and me
She fell out of bed one night, the sister did not know what to do
So the called Dr. Hill at ten
So late at night the got in his car to go see
He had been there five times before, he knew what to do
Laying there on the floor, she had done it again
Doc told them to get a blanket and a pillow and put them on the floor
He made a pallet for her and ten he said
"Let's roll her over on to the mat
Put the pillow under her head , then headed for the door
His little round face was turning blood red
Then he said, "Now damn it fall off of that"
To speak for those, who no longer have a voice,
were I to get it wrong, would they really have a choice?
No.., they didn't choose me as spokesperson, why would they?
I am not clairvoyant.
But they haunt my dreams still...cause me to rise, plead me to look back.
They won't let me alone, point in fact.
“I am waiting patiently. Goodbye my darlings"
Bill didn't have enough water to write much more than this.
Born on Valentine's day, with his heart set on Chubby,
eight days to dwell on a love that almost was, now missed.
Mia was a sad-eyed beauty, there's no denying that.,
she never got free the shadow cast, Ernie's early demise.
Though a mother's love, given and reciprocated,
found a fondness binding, throughout her short life.
Marty made the day special for friends and family,
never thinking of himself, a miracle and twin borne.
Forsaken in life's wishes, called only for justice seen,
lived life fitting of a brother they'll always mourn.
Save up the coins for the ferryman while you still can,
the days will bring swift recounting.
Leave lasting memory for love's empty hand,
and debts of the heart ever surmounting.
“Happy Birthday to Bill Baker for February the 10th”
A poet friend held in such high esteem
A man of wisdom and positivity
Who shines as brightly as a beacons beam
A kind, respectful man
A poet extraordinaire
Abundant with understanding and compassion
His good humour he is now beginning to share
So, to you my Texan buddy
I wish you a wonderful day
Enjoy, relax and put your feet up
While we all at P.S sing Hip Hip Hooray!!
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVELY FRIEND”!!
Bill Bulldog was our gorgeous British Bull Dog. We were so lucky to have Bill in our lives for eleven wonderful years. Bill was like no other dog we ever had before. A gentle boy ~ a character! My granddaughter was always scared of dogs, but adored Bill, for to her he wasn’t a dog ~ he was a ‘Bill’.
A face only his Mother could love and she did
Bill bulldog was his name
Bill was a character
Bill was adorable
Bill knew it ~ he was such a Diva
Bill had so many facial expressions
blinking his eyes rapidly – Bill’s pathetic look
jutting his jaw forward – Bill’s naughty look
tossing his head in disdain – Bill’s diva look
bounding toward you whilst running sideways ~
Bill’s ‘get out of my way look ~ I don’t think I can stop’
Bill on rising would roll on his back ~ legs in the air ~ rocking from side to side
as if welcoming a new day ~ you could almost hear him shrieking with glee
Bill loved all homosapiens for what they might have in their pockets
Bill was always on the lookout for treats
Bill ignored other dogs – never thinking he was one
Bill’s snoring kept me awake – stereophonic sounds with hubby joining in too
as he aged Bill became a late riser
needing gentle persuasion to go for a pee
aghast that we had woken him at such an unearthly hour
Bill’s fierce demeanor was a mask he wore
to hide his loving character
Bill would lick you to death
Bill loved to lick
but licking his food was not something Bill did
Bill would gulp it down at the speed of light
Bill was our handsome Boy
Bill was a ‘one off’ – for when they made Bill they broke the mould
Bill was unique
Bill was our Boy
Bill brought us so much laughter and tears
Bill I miss you so…
Written 30th July 2019
3rd PLACE
Contest: Writing Challenge 3, July 2019 – List
Sponsor: Dear Heart
Contest Strand Pick 5
Sponsor Brian Strand
N/A
You have a right to speak your mind freely,
and express what’s important to you,
you have a duty to make your words sincere,
and do what you must to speak the truth.
Also to protect those who would speak out,
even if with them you do not agree,
because if you try to silence them
then you’re a hand-maiden of tyranny.
You have a right to worship what you will,
to believe the dictates of your conscience,
and not to let this be taken by folks
who claim that your morals only offend.
To never spread what you are thinking
by resorting to harsh methods of force,
and to resist those who would do it to you,
live-and-let-live, as a matter of course.
You have a right to assemble, protest,
to demand redress for the powerful,
to remember no right is optional,
but those in government do wish to full,
and that your protest must respect others,
since they also have a claim to this right,
and should the oppression continue on,
you may have a duty to go and fight.
You have a right to keep and bear weapons,
to defend your life with great lethality,
you have a duty to own a weapon,
to understand it’s use in entirety,
to never us it unless there is no choice,
since a weapon only has one purpose,
to know when to use it, and if that time comes
to understand what happens when you miss.
You have a right to possess property,
to control all the fruits of your labor,
and a duty to respect the hard work
shown by the property of your neighbor.
To not let the success others have earned
drive you to a covetous jealousy,
to understand that all civilization
is based on people using their property...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.