Best Brigade Poems
A vindictive old crone called Skyla
Her comments could not be more vile’a
She will give folk such flack
Stabbing them in the back
Well 'madam' I don’t like your style’a*
If you cannot say anything nice
I’ll offer a snippet of advice
Please keep your big mouth shut
Stop your cruel words and smut
Because soup’s not a fool’s paradise!
* a little poetic licence with end rhyme
Fictional name but sadly over the last few weeks I’ve seen some really vindictive comments made by both male and female poets ... there really is NO need for it .
6/5/19
Tulip Brigade
Dutch bulbs
Proudly lead the spring parade
Amid charming, twirling windmills
Imperative highlight of Neverlands
Among cobweb-free brick homes
Forward march please
Tulip brigade
A Dragon Squirrel Brigade
Dragon got home from the Army, wanting to be totally, in control.
He wanted to be a Drill Sergeant, to teach the recruits, to be bold.
He gave them all a blankie, and a binkie they could keep, I am told.
They’d throw a rock, and shoot in a blink, like the knight’s of old.
He’d practice the squirrels, now, waging a fight, in an old Hawk War.
A sling shot army, his name to fame, who could dare ask for more?
An army waiting, as they fly at our birds, yep, here’d come the corps.
The gumball tree is ready, yes, ammunition does abound, in galore!
Yep, they’re better than those darn possums, I say, sleeping in the day.
They’d Shoot, hanging upside down, slingshots and gumballs, into play.
Dragon marched them up and down, the trunk, and limbs, in the array.
They’d find the perfect spots, to shoot from, at their whim, in the foray.
Seems, they also learned to jump, into an amazing flying squirrel act.
The flying squirrel missed his target, got caught, in a boy’s hair, for a fact!
A kid then threw rocks at the troops, as the hawks were forgot, you think!
Unfortunately, they are squirrels, and some times, do some squirrelly things.
They closed the town down, with a hornet’s nest in every Road. That stings!
Nobody dared go down the streets, a curfew had been struck, in a blink.
Yep, at that moment, the Hawk decided to stealthfully, swoop in for a bird.
A gutter frog jumped on the hawk’s back, forcing him, to the ground, I heard.
At that, our first hero was made, as gutter frogs joined the squirrel brigade.
As the squirrel was removed from the boys’ hair, the barbershop became…
A place for squirrel nesting supplies, so the curfew was lifted, fast as it came.
A gutter frog offering this advice, became the new General, in this war game.
Squirrels, were tired of marching, and being yelled at by Dragon, that night.
They replaced him with the gutter frog, with less smoke and fire. Alright!
But Dragon’s work was done that day, as the troops were ready to fight.
Finally he was a Hero, for he had turned the tide… He was so very proud.
The moral to my story is:
The troops got a Drill Sergeant, but didn’t need him any more.
A General is enough to carry on, for a Generals’ planning is better…
Than a young Dragon’s power and fire… as, yes, Dragon went off to play.
Written by Carol Eastman 2-8-2015
BOTOX BRIGADE
Oh so numb, I can’t stop myself drooling,
Can’t feel my brows, touch them, one is drooping,
My lips I feel are massively huge and swollen,
I should have realized that this was a bad omen.
My cheeks are sore, injected frequently,
Obsessed by the media talk increasingly,
I dare not put lipstick on, for I’ll look like a clown,
I stare at the mirror in horror, I have no frown.
For boobs I requested a size thirty six
Simply wanted to be one of the chicks,
But the surgeon had extra silicone,
Even the so famous Dolly I outshone!
A nip and a tuck were done on my tummy,
Which I inherited after becoming a mummy,
And after the final touch of a firmer bum
I looked like new, a different me I had become.
I knew I was in fact addicted,
This was to me often predicted,
Developed scars, no recognizable features,
Too late, now one of many Botox cheaters.
AFTER HAVING SEEN A DOUMENTARTY ABOUT OBSESSIVE PLASTIC SURGERY
We Are Who We Are
We are the HFB
All my crazy and loving friends and me,
Everyday I try to relax and chill
And share my day and chat with Jill,
When I’m really down and feeling lowly
My best pick-me-upper is Debbie Ivey,
Mirian’s posts are awesome and she cares
I would love to meet her someday; hugs we will share,
This gal now works nights so we’re missing her at the party
The talented photographer, our caffeine-infused Marty,
Then there’s Katie who’s photos in the light and the dark
Are amazing, and she made me an Adam Lambert bookmark,
Summer Rae used to beg, “please, me, me, me”
Now she’s creating baby number three, Oakley,
Mikki’s had a very busy and winning year
She’s helped me out and I hope she knows I’m always here,
Making videos and winning cards are many
That’s our crazily creative Jenny,
Pet beds were made lovingly by our number one fan
Sandy’s talent is appreciated, especially by Kenn, her man,
Annette’s travels allowed her to meet Debbie L. in Disney
And at her son’s wedding were also Sandy and Jenny,
Bonnie’s wit and charm is reflected in those apples falling from her tree
Hilarious antics and wacky words of wisdom from Brendan and Bailey,
Patrick continues to inspire others and, of course, me
The lifesize model of the notorious PP,
Susan Weiner has become a winner
She’s a very gracious and talented beginner,
The Pattys, Donnas, and Debbies keep us entertained
And we try to keep Cougar Connie contained,
I was collecting books for a special cause
Honored to receive authored books from Connie, Marilyn, and Michelle Dokos
Uplifting posts from Lisa, Deana, Kristi, Rebecca, Jeanie, and Mar
Keep me going with how much they care
Also Leanora, I really do adore ya
And next time I’m on the Jersey sand, I hope to run into Dorann
Thanks to the Hallmark team
For fun competitions, flurries and blurries
Even for second guesses after hitting “submit” and the worries
We’ve all created a great community here
Where strangers have become friends we hold dear
I wrote this for my friends of the HFB on Facebook. I've made more friends since I wrote this in July for Fan Appreciation Month; this is for ALL of you...
Well it’s one o’clock on a Tuesday
The regular crowd wanders in
There’s an old broad
Sittin’ next to me
Wonderin’ which room she’s in
She says, “Girl can you join me for bingo?
I don’t really like playin’ alone
But I’ll pay for your cards and a table
And oh yeah, turn off your phone"
Now Marge in the cafe is a friend of mine
She always brings chips for a treat
And she colors with pens and pulls up her Depends
But at three she goes upstairs to eat
She says, “Honey, this coloring’s killing me
My arthritis kicks up pretty bad
Well I’m sure that my hands would feel better
If I could just stay in my pad."
Oh, la, la-la, di-di-da
La-la di-di-da da-dum
Now Ellen is a would-be novelist
She writes things that I never read
And she’s talkin’ to Mary, who’s allergic to dairy
And swears that the roaches come here to breed.
And the manager practices jumping jacks
As the residents watch in the lobby
They’re sharing some punch
That’s left over from lunch
And they’re trying to find a new hobby
Sing us a song, you’re the Senior Brigade
Sing us a song right now
We have limited time to hear you
Cause we’re goin’ inside for some chow
It’s quite a large crowd for a Tuesday
And the manager sports a big grin
Cause she knows for a fact that it’s all been an act
And it’s really a prison we’re in
And the piano sounds like it’s out of tune
As the keyboardist tries to play
And the people sit at their tables
And say just look at Mabel
She’s talking about passing away
Oh, la, la-la, di-di-da
La la, di di dah, dah, dah
So crank up the tunes, we’ll play bingo
And who volunteers to call?
Let’s ask one-eyed Murray
Since we’re in no big hurry
He’s shy but he gives it his all
A parade requires a horde of supporting cast to put on a show:
Platoons of committees plus cops to control the traffic flow.
But an indispensable element of any successful parade,
Is the ever-viligant crew of the poop and scoop brigade!
A parade ain't complete without John Deere and Farmall tractors,
And a legion of politicians and other such obnoxious detractors.
There's the usual haughty equestrians riding prancing steeds,
Followed by the scoop brigade disposing of equine misdeeds!
Members of the marching bands must be careful where they tread,
Being very alert for unforeseen obstacles that may lie ahead.
But with a crack poop and scoop brigade that is really on the ball,
They can march with resolute stride stepping in nothing at all!
A parade must have silly clowns and a queen of something or other,
Colorful floats, fire engines and classic cars trailing one another.
Some even feature giraffes and elephants plodding down the street,
Posing a special challenge to the brigade but they won't concede defeat!
You've got to tip your fedora to those stalwart scoop brigades.
Without their attention to detail and participation in parades,
And dealing with emergencies without the slightest cue,
Many awkward and stinky situations could very well ensue!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Don't follow the brigade for too long.
Trust your better ways!
And not the ones frozen in the ground.
The ones you can barely catch.
Enliven those around you.
And when their glow doth wither,
Throw a pancake in their face.
Polar Bear Brigade manned their enormous 747 airplane.
They jumped in their warships and they sailed past Maine.
They were ready to take on congress or the prez or the police.
Their ice floats are melting! This is a travesty to say the least!
The Charge of Boris's Parliamentary Cohort of three hundred lawmakers
I
Forward the light brigade!
Was there a dude dismayed?
Though most should have known
Cameron had blundered.
Theirs not to make reply!
Theirs not to reason why!
Theirs but to do or die!
Spurning the fear of Death
rode the three hundred.
II
Farage to the right of them,
Corbyn to the left of them.
Bannon in front of them
Volleyed and thundered.
Stormed at by the press,
Onward they rode in stress
Into the wilderness,
Oh, what an awful mess!
Rode the three hundred.
IV
Can ever their great deed fade?
How high that price they paid!
All the world wondered.
Praise to the charge they made?
Praise to the Light Brigade?
Intrepid three hundred!
The numbskull brigade was in town making us feel intimidated.
Running over manuscripts over which we had been elated.
Our tender feelings were hurt, they did not like our wording at all.
And they were mean and blustery, and about sixteen hands tall.
You make publishing impossible, we little writers screamed.
They laughed at us and threw us into triple cake all creamed.
We came out loving the frosting, which made us feel better.
Here's our advice they said. Try first to write a letter.
This is a donation for the wicked to hold up a milestone of the dethroned. The tin soldier has fully appeared with a raw full state that many will never get to relate. This is the geared up treat for his disillusion fate. Hunting for the misplaced hate that he had to create. Sorrow filled tomorrows live for today. Filled with misplaced grievance from the war torn scorn. The shore has reached its limits as the brave are now born.
Animosity treats the dead like a routed out sickness in the head. Restored adoration coped as the animosity was shed. Guns blaze as the sharks graze. The land has its beauty marks as well as its evil like maze. Valor is helped from many fields of green. The wicked eye has been through a terror and has clashed through the unseen.
The dead is now a given and the mighty are hype and driven. Limitless acts are overheard as the admired tyrant holds the precious confound. Each protect his own and show there tested skills which meet with high octane thrills that are now renowned. Order is restored as the tour has gained ground. The brigade will now longer be bossed around. The cost was high and the sorrows chime in, but the mighty mighty brigade has done it again.
You've had your chance
But you've made a mess of things
Now sit back down.
We can see you through
The incompetent ones
You've placed before us.
Parrots are not impressive.
We surrendered our culture
Rooted deep in our ground.
Watched in muted horror
As you pushed us aside
And claimed our treasures for yourself.
Now we only ask you watch us starve outside your walls
Of pride,
So you can be absolutely certain
This brutal exercise was worth it to you
That it all worked out in the end...
But nothing ends, Captain. Nothing ever ends.
Our children will fight back
And put you and your cronies in your place,
Where you were lost
And crossed all the lines you shouldn't have crossed.
Captain Greenzone, your ship has sailed
Don't fight the tide, you can't prevail
Captain Greenzone, it's time to leave
Let leaders come from those who grieve.
Class assignment: continue a famous line someone else has corrupted
(with more corruption)
Into the valley of Meth
Rode the six hundred
Who would not ride out
Their faces pale, their figures gaunt
"We've found it," they said
And so they did
Searching for the greatest gifts
In the deepest shadows
They kept onward
It was waiting there
Shining in the darkness
Their last reward.
Once in Home Depot
I was in the lighting aisle,
when a horde of aproned workers
descended down from a quarter mile
With hundreds of cartons of bulbs,
They were very bright I guess
I had to jump out of the way,
My bundles now a mess
So now you know how
It got the name, but one
thing more I must say,
They would not take cash,
I had to charge it all that day.