Best Bucked Poems
I’m sick of hearing from old Bill that I’m a whimpish sort of bloke,
Because I don’t care for rodeo’s and can’t relate to outback folk,
That I prefer to travel in a car, when I go from A to B,
When I should be riding horses like Billy does you see.
I’ve never been upon a horse; in fact I’ve never patted one,
But at times I’ve been a victim from the damage that they’ve done,
When they’ve thundered down a racetrack with double-digit odds,
To leave my pockets empty and the good luck with the Gods.
So it was just a whim and foolishness that struck me at a guess,
That could have left me comatosed and in an awful mess,
When in a flush of inspiration of adrenaline attack,
Without a lesson or experience, I climbed upon a horse’s back.
I threw one foot in the stirrup and threw the other one to straddle
The horse’s back now that I’m on, while sitting in the saddle,
But with the motion of a gallop at a steady rhythmic pace,
I started slipping from the saddle and I quickly lost me place.
In fear I’m grabbing for the mane, but I couldn’t get a grip,
So I threw me hands around its neck, but then began to slip,
And I could see the ground below me was aiming at me head,
So I grabbed its nose to stop it, but it bucked on me instead.
It was futile hanging on now so I made a desperate move to jump,
But instead of reaching safety, me body lurched and I went thump,
For me foot’s caught in the stirrup so I’m bouncing in the fray,
With the horses pounding hooves close to just a foot away.
Now limply hanging upside down from the battering I took,
In me haze of consciousness I saw a crowd had formed to look,
Then me missus ran to save me when she took off like a rocket,
Over there at K-mart where, she ripped the plug out of the socket.
One day I delivered a poem
one that seemed to be premature
so I swaddled her up
and set her aside
to grow 'til I felt reassured
How she yowled and howled for attention...
how she cried so piteously!
How she coughed and she sneezed
whimpered and wheezed
then threw up all over me!
Still I tenderly tended her bedside
and lovingly nursed her along
determined to sacrifice everything
to raise her up healthy and strong
As she grew and recovered, she wandered
and crawled over everything
and I found I had trouble containing
my rambling, unruly offspring
She became an inexcusable bounder
a wayward and bratty ingrate
who despite all my love and affection
refused to make sense or read straight
She dallied in questionable places
she idled and shiftlessly shirked
lazily lagging, ignoring my nagging
while I selflessly, endlessly worked
Firmly applied discipline to her
and structure, and meter, and rhyme
but she bucked, and rebelled, and bit me
and stayed up beyond her bedtime
We wrestled, and wrangled, and brawled,
bickered in bitter altercation
if I didn't do something quite soon
she would ruin my good reputation
At length, I decided I'd had it
we had reached the end of the road
and although she clung like a wet paper towel-
I flung her and flushed the commode!
I was a sitting duck when the tide came in.
No idea it would go past my chin.
I struggled and I flopped.
I bucked and I hopped.
It took me way out to sea.
I went under quickly, poor little me.
But a dolphin came along and gave me a push.
That old water threw me up in a whoosh.
I found myself all safe and sound.
To say thanks I looked all around.
But the dolphin was gone with a flip and a wink,
And I resumed washing dishes in our old kitchen sink.
papa said
son what you going to do
with your life
now that you have
no money job
or wife
he said papa
I'm going to
leave this town
think I'll
join up with the rodeo
and break them bulls down
Maybe even rope
me a stallion or
even a clown
Son you better
take another
look around
for theres no money
for bull riders
thrown to the ground
or being stepped on
by a horse or bull
weighing over eight hundred pounds
Papa I promise
Ill make you proud
of your rodeo cowboy when I'm done
And promise
not to be thrown or bucked off
to the ground
So papa please come
visit when our show's
in town
for I'll be
the one riding high on
the biggest bull that's found
hanging on for just
eight seconds while I'm
listening for that bells sound
just kicking those sides
of horses and bulls
jumping up and down
with coming out your
top rodeo champion and
bull rider found
Tribute To
The Rodeo Cowboys
and Cowgirls
Hang Tough
I was swimming in the ocean enjoying it so much
I back floated and relaxed with my cousins Mat and Hutch
All of a sudden Mat broke my dreamy thoughts with a scream
The water choppy, he was carried swiftly up stream
Two great whites were fighting over which would eat my poor Mat
So I chased after them and I smacked them with a big baseball bat
Is this human being serious? The biggest shark asked the other
I do not know the other shark replied but she looks like my mother
I am a grandma you dopes I said and I smacked each hard on the nose
This the smaller one said haughtily is not how this kind of shark story goes
So I jumped on his slick back. I bucked, screamed, jabbed, and I kicked
And I punched him and bit him, making him mad; his skin was quite thick
This land polluter is crazy the great whites agreed with some flair
So they gave me my cousin whom they had tossed in the air.
Because I liked it I gave them another bat smack across their noses
She is horrible! The great whites said as I hit them with hoses
Sure I got Matt back but due to those shark bullies he now he had PSTD
His swimming suit was gone, so he was sheepish being nude in front of me
So Hutch and I threw off our clothes and we all swam in birthday suits
But those sharks never came back, so glad they were finally loose
Born in 1921, somewhere in Wyoming, born to ride wild stock
Started at sixteen, hung up his spurs at 53
Thirty Seven years of riding broncs and bulls
Made his home aboard outlawed livestock
Riding with broken bones and paying his fees
Night after night, on them old bone breaking bulls
December 1, 1967, was Freckle's biggest night of all
National Finals Rodeo, Oklahoma City, on a bull, Tornado
No ordinary bull, no ordinary cowboy
The two were the best in the world, who would take the fall
The test between Freckles and Tornado
Who would win, beast or cowboy
Tornado, 1850 pound Braford stick of dynamite
Never had been rode in 220 times bucked out
He was out of World Champion Jim Shoulder's bucking string
Brown was forty seven at the time, was in the spot light
Had a broken neck the year before, he had little doubt
He wanted the eight second bell to ring
A full house that night, waiting for the cream of the crop
Then the explosion out of Chute # 2, Tornado came out high and wide
Into a spin and wrapped it up tight, trying to loose his load
Freckles riding the horrible hurricane, was still on top
One of Rodeo's most famous bull ride
Tornado knew that he had been rode
Spurs dug into the rope, toes turned out, free hand in the air
Victory was his at the eight second bell, life was never so sweet
Freckles rode the baddest of them all
That night Tornado never really had a prayer
The King of Rodeo rode him to defeat
Freckles Brown was to rodeo as Babe Ruth was to baseball
Walk along the leafy paths dappled with shade
turn over a rock or two and watch the scurrying
as little insects scatter looking for some covering
finding it underneath some sticks and a grass blade
Sit quietly and just listen to the song birds singing
with music and beauty they fill the forest glade
then walk down to the gurgling stream and wade
cooling feet in its crystal water with lots of splashing
Turn over the leaf of a fern and see the spores clinging
watch the leaves waving in the breeze as they are frayed
then some red deer fawns bucked, frolicked and played
not seeming to care who was there, jumping and springing
Squirrels chattering angrily as they send nuts down in a cascade
bombarding all who pass by, they seem to lie, hidden and waiting
to catch unsuspecting walkers as they explore without disturbing
taking care to preserve the wafts of bluebells and deadly nightshade
Wandering onwards seeing the silky cocoon of a future butterfly cacheted
and mushroom rings surround the tall trees mystical and captivating
some plain, many with multi-coloured spots in sunshine glittering
old oak trees stand in splendour with leafs of emerald, turquoise and jade
Arriving at the banks of the lake surrounded by the forest glade
this place of mystery and tranquillity, no need of further searching
all one could ask for, spread out in glorious array that is so fitting
walking home I am content that into the magical forest today I strayed
written 03/13/2014
contest: The Magical Forest
My thumbs pressed on the trigger.
The M-2 bucked its load.
I squinted down the barrel
And watched his head explode.
An early morning ambush,
A steaming Luzon hell,
For Ferdi and Imelda,
Our Cold War clientele.
The mission was generic:
Suppress the NPA*.
It didn't really matter
Just who got in the way.
I carried out my orders
And did what I was told,
But Christ, the kid I wasted
Was only twelve years old.
*New People’s Army – a Maoist insurgency
On life’s rebound mere months ago
caught head to toe in throes of woe
the youngest in my fam’ly crew
with insight to my rescue flew
she wrote me in, the caring mite
as member of a friendship site
From every place under the sun
new friends I gathered by the ton
the world itself got shrunk in size
merged lands and seas and mounts and skies
awed by the vast, new cyberspace
my throes of woe took second place
Good friends I raked in by tenfold
discarded some, if truth be told
a few I merely string along
the rest held dear in friendship strong
a wholesome blended potpourri
my cyber-spatial fam'ly tree
My best friend must remain unnamed
in his own world a man of fame
with ease he glided into mine
this angel of the human kind
who decades long has shared his life
with one he proudly calls “my wife”
Then Cyber-Cupid after drinks
with glint in eye played me a jinx
it hiccuped once, aimed arrow straight
I stepped aside but way too late
the arrow struck with practiced ease
pierced center-heart and bucked my knees
My cyber-love slid in my heart
distance despite, no inch apart
through emails sweet, fine poetry
we formed a bond unholy be
by gentle eyes, soft hazel-brown
turned inside-out and upside-down
The pastime which had woe replaced
ate hours at unwieldy pace
once-daily chats became our creed
though soon to two, then three increased
my loved one’s with me of like mind
(quite oft in chats we pen same lines)
My conscience pricks: he can’t be mine
though fine he’s loved by one as fine
in tri-love games there’s naught to gain
except but cause the good wife pain
in state of flux I chant my plight:
succumb or let my love take flight?
I thought lets go fishing
fancying a fish pie
or maybe fish and chips
that would do the trick
I set off, rod and bucket
full of worms in my hands
found a good spot to fish
by the rocks on the beach
Patiently I waited for a bite
then my rod dipped and bucked
soon I had four nice whoppers
flapping around in my bucket
Needing to answer call of nature
I slipped in between the trees
alas when I returned I found
one happy pelican looking full
An empty bucket he'd scoffed the lot
I sighed as I chucked a stone
it missed him by a country mile
no fish for supper I had no more worms
written 06/17/2013
contest Gone Fishing
sponsor Caleb Smith
What a mess
I must confess
I made of my own life
Immaturity can be
A dull and painful knife
Advice was given readily
Wisdom came like tides
Warned of dangers far and near
That trap young hearts like mine
Stubborn as a mule can be
I scoffed and bucked
So foolishly
Looking back
I made a fuss
Over things now
Old like dust
If I'd listened
If I heard
Words of love
I thought absurd
The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Three
Note: I do hope it’s clear to readers by now that – strictly speaking – in these ruba’iyat, I deviate from the original Persian medieval model, introduced by Rudaki in Ghazna, in that I do away with the 7-syllable hemistich and even the 14-syllable line of the couplet in order to create a longer more breathless ruba’i of my own. I adhere only to the intent and the tone at large. Apologies to Master Khayyam and his ilk.
Then as the dawn comes creeping through the dull cold listless haze
Shattered by nitpicking crows still in their tuxedo craze
Raucous squawks remind her to take that woollen mantle off
And stretch her legs just where her feet splintered the brittle glaze
Yet no one had ever seen her curious darling eyes
Her fronds of glaucous eye-lashes lie under thin ice
On some frosty winter morn gusts shake her locks threadbare loose
While some Himalayan pine bucked her will long bent with vice
No frog croaks nor cicadas cut into eerie silence
And the vapours of sticky unkempt limbs hang low and dense
The forsaken dame dreams on as on every December morn
No carbide stench of Bastille Day fireworks will choke her sense
On such lone nights when joggers dare not dig into her sides
She’d unclasp her python coils to search through shopping guides
For sherwanis and sarees to rouse Khayyam from his cup
While the svelte lass from Lahore wanders in her coils besides
Come winter! Come shine! This life’s nothing but a longing grind
Each in his own way dying to find his own special kind
If that happens, will this world be bereft of its only quest
For never does the search bring together two of the right kind!
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
The course was very narrow,
the trail, straight and long -
I moseyed on that perfect path
where I could do no wrong.
I kicked my big, white stallion,
up rocky slopes one day -
and when I made this clearing,
I knew I'd found the way.
And while I sat there on my faith,
atop the highest hill -
and as I peered on valley low,
I judged folks all until -
I found great fault in everyone
no matter, great or small -
so I could sit up highest on
my saddle, straight and tall.
I prayed; "Oh, those pathetic souls
are hardly good for thee -
for never are they good enough,
unless they're just like me.
Just look at their bad habits,
just look at all their stuff,
and why don't they attend my church?
They are not good enough!
They sin in many different ways,
they fall in numbers too.
They just don't understand that they -
are not like me and You."
Now after seeing others
had wandered way off course -
t'was then that I was bucked right off
my high and mighty horse.
©2010 louis gander / www.ganderpoems.org
Mule kicked and bucked so high, its
hind legs seemed to reach the sky...
Suffering from many a thing, but vowed
to suffer war no more,
Soldiers differing with the stubborn
beast, learned to sit in peace...
The origin of the unicorn begin's in
A time and habitat where we did not live in
In Another Galaxy it could have been in
Or in an unexplored magical dimension
It was a land overflowing with milk and honey
Pure and abundant was it's skillful offspring
Enchanted with a forest that lulls you to sleep
With it's down reaching hum stemming from the trees
The little creatures were cordial and could speak
The streams of life were the preachers of the peace
The fireflies dancing a mild ballet at night
Would arouse even the most dormant soul to sing
But it was unicorns that governed the land
and so to say put everything under one's wing
A unicorn was considered the horse of the God's
It had the chiseled structure of a steeled spartan
It's horn holstered the power of a lighting rod
Sporting a mane as majestic as a mountain and
When it bucked on its hoofs the earth stood still in awe
They spent years on this planet protecting our spot
Behind the scenes in old men's wars they fought
But it was in the hidden rainbows with gold pots
Where their undisturbed and placid image was copped
Now its unfortunate we do not seem them nowadays
mainly because they did not embark on noah's ark
and all the CO-2 in the atmosphere we sprayed
means their world no longer remains and
Now their remains are just horses with no horns
and no potential to fly, so all they do is eat hay, ride and race
and when they die we just assume to make them into glue
JK! Happy Birthday!
* P.D. Unicorn Poem contest