Best Bourne Poems


Premium Member A Journey Bourne

Ah war out a walkin
Ut war a Sunday morn
Mah chores war all did
Warn't no need fer me et home

Ah walks along tha river
What does goes by er place
Hearin tha crickets singin
Un watchin dragonflies un tha chase

Tha rivers a little lively
Fer tha rain done brung er up
Un stead uve a little girgle
Ut souns more like "sup"

Ah war almost ta mah favor ite log 
Wen ah does sees a dog
He jist stans un looks et me
N ah's goes walkin up

Then ah' see's uh movement
Un ut war a horse 
He sniffs tha air un stares et me
Un never makes a noise

Over thar un mah log
Un much ta mah surprise
 War un ol' man sittin 
Un never even blinks un eye

Ah jist kinda moz ies over
Un sits down un tha end
Tryin hard not ta bothers um
Cause he war a snorin

Then thar war a little sound
Frum a rock across tha way
We's both looks ovar thar
Ta see's what tha frog has ta say

As he war a sayin his piece
The dog cumed right up
He war gonna catch tha guy
But he has ta swims tha river first

Than tha horse done gived a whinney
Un walks up ta tha man
Nuzzlin tha fellers cheek
An pawin tha white san'

Ah sez "I's sorry 
If'n I's buttin un"
Tha ol' man done shakes his head
Tilts his hat un sez "No mam"

"We's jist un a journey
Un sides ta takes a break
Ut war kinda perty here
So we's jist sits here un tha shade"

"Horse youse jist stops ut
Her ain't did nothin wrong
Her jist likes ta listen ta 
Tha little feller's song"

"Dog youse cumes back here
Youse don't likes ta swim
If'n youse two don't calms down
We'll be's un er way again

"Well ah's sorry mam
Ut's still perty early un tha morn
But ah guesses Wild Lighten un Duke
Er ready ta goes un with er journey bourne"


Cile Beer



Thanks Bob Hinshaw for the idea

Food Bourne Illness

Resting stop-atop docile table;
it is cold inside of this garage.
Loneliness is my plague that stalks me as if predator.
Collection builds up, forming microscopic mountains; silica dusting this deserted land.
The cat's meow buzzes by (like) bee's knees.
Littered boxes spread throughout this eternity.
Pest crop dust; Lenting out its withdrawn hand-
Fast becomes famine, as fly begins to take on a grotesque new liking.
Feasting on the very own discreet of our misunderstanding.
One foot steps in front of the other.
Two closed mouths’ match locked by four open hands.
Shoe!
Shoe you!
Shoe, you shoe less fast crop dust pest!
Mad brother cows’ bully posted mothers'.
Eyes lose color as lifeless humanities’ remains…,
fluorescent.
Antique actions result in this defaulted character.
Litter shoe box, deserted by its own shoe.
Shoe you.
Shoe you, shoeless litter box of dust crop mad cow pest.
Shoe-You-Shoe!
Moo...

5-18-15

The Bourne Identity

State terrorism still exists with Gestapo police invading our privacy. 
The state of fear and spying defies the constitution. 
What is the resolution?
Immunity for all?
Stand up with this revolution.
Find a solution to their illegitimate proceedings.
While they drink from their chalice with greed in power of religious abuse.
Grinning with malice.
Discriminatory misuse.
Condemnation, of this complication.
Leaves everyone with inflammation from your infiltration.


Bourne On the Wind

From afar both night and morning
On the four winded sky,
The stuff of life that made me
Blew here, so here am I.

Now for a breath I tarry
Not yet to blow apart,
So take my hand and tell me
The feelings in your heart.

Speak now and I will answer
How shall I help, now say
'Fore to the winds four corners
I go my endless way.

Premium Member My Vagabond Bourne

The brilliant sun 'wakens me and heralds another glorious dawn!
I rub the sleep from my eyes, stretch my bones and stifle a yawn!
The diamond-filled sky was my roof, the soft grass was my bed.
The dew was my blanket - my saddle, the pillow for my head!

My dog Duke races about and faithful Wild Lightnin' grazes nearby.
I'm suddenly transfixed watchin' a magnificent eagle transit the sky!
I've had my bacon, now with a cup o' joe, I savor His Creation!
Each day of my vagabond bourne is filled with so much elation!

I sit on a log and watch rainbow trout leap from the lake.
They put on a dazzlin' acrobatic show just for my sake!
White tail deer and antelope graze in the vale 'cross the way.
With such beauty and serenity, 'tis hard to keep emotions at bay!

I fill my tin cup again and watch the embers of my fire ease.
I ain't "saddled" with schedules - I have only myself to please!
So I reckon I'll tarry a spell and gaze on the mountains o'er yonder,
Relax, scratch old Duke's ears while we both muse and ponder.

Old Duke nuzzles my face and swishes his tail to and fro.
It's time to saddle up - I sense Wild Lightnin' is also anxious to go.
I anticipate bein' 'wakened by Old Sol early each morn,
So Wild Lightnin', Duke and I can continue our vagabond bourne!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)

Bourne Free

Too wise for anything 
but faith…
to be carried by angels
in love’s holy grail

The light in her eyes
to reign majestic
illumined by heavens
flowering dale

(Dreamsleep: December, 2021)


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