Best Butting Poems
black and white landscape
a colony of penguins ~
standing and waddling
in the oceans depth
lives a black and white giant~
orca killer whale
seal on an ice flow
oblivious to danger ~
head butting whale strikes
egg laid by female
emperor penguin stands guard~
female goes hunting
not in Africa
elephant and leopard seals~
sea is their jungle
hourglass dolphins
smaller than a bottlenose~
keen bow wave riders
home is in the air
the wandering albatross~
a ten foot wingspan
in the frozen south
a species of royal bird~
the emperor penguin
the antarctic terns
fly over a silver dish~
krill is on the menu
thick and warm white coat
a camouflaged artic fox~
unseen in the snow
top of the food chain
carnivorous white giant~
fearsome polar bear
keeps butting her head against the same mirror
it cracks and breaks finally
so she finds another one as close to it as possible
Same scenario,
Same scripts
Same arguments.
This mirror leaves too
Why do all the mirrors leave me? She asks.
The cat has no answers. Just glad to get all the attention now.
I was there
There .... floating on a small fluffy cloud
Hovering over the sea
Watching the seals at play.
I could see on the horizon
The sighting of a whale
I knew the seals would be vulnerable
I tried to call out,
To wave my hands,
To warn them.
They ignored me,
The whale swam closer
Could see the mouth open.
Ready.....ready ...to swallow a few
My heart pounded
What could I do.
I jumped
Jumped from my fluffy cloud
Landed on the whales back
Not sure who was most surprised
The whale or me
Then he began to dive under the waves
Tossing me in the air
The seals seeing the commotion
Rapidly swam away
The last time he tossed me in the air
I landed on a small island
Badly battered and bruised
No food no water my fate was sealed
I lay down closed my eyes to sleep
I was awoken by a lollopy dog
Head butting me to wake up
My bed clothes were in a mess
Torn to shreds, I was sweating
Perspiration soaking through my nightclothes
Was such a real dream
What ....
who ...
was I trying to warn?
Will I ever know?
Penned 20 April 2015
Wicked wind I hate you so,
I’d rather sit in ice cold snow,
Your breath is cold and touch
So fraught, I think your soul from
Devil bought
A paragraph from weather’s
Tale, you’d think you were the
Holy Grail; speeding, pushing,
Blowing crush
None escapes your windy whoosh!
Cutty Sark or clothes on bush,
Strutting, cutting, butting breeze
Lifts old maids’ dress past their knees,
Blows the lash from pretty eyes,
Takes the thrush and clouds from
Skies; no escape from this cruel jape
Windy, weather, mistral‘s shape
He had earned a black belt in tae kwon do
Breaking slabs of concrete with his big toe
And butting planks with his head
Had left him nearly brain dead
Glazed eyes resulted from many a blow
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 7 in Linda-Marie's "Let's Limerick" Contest - October 2010
and smitten with her moist entwine,
he savoured like the red, red wine,
as passion engulfed the post,
she was the surely most,
till oblivion unwinds....
and he gave up his ghost,
and a sympathetic mine,
no lesbians this time,
but that gets on your Goat,
till next head butting time,
he kissed her subtle throat,
and it began to climb,
no not the Billy goat,
intercourse aint a crime,
chocolate covered cherries are the toast:}
the heat remained sublime,
dem cherries are the most!
Don re Debbie Duncan "chocolate covered cherries"
LIFE IS POETRY...POETRY IS…
Poetry wears the words of smiles and tears,
And speaks of stumbling through graveyards
And up the aisles to ancient altars;
Falling off of sidewalks and through the cracks of life
Then rising up to stargaze from thin lines;
Tripping over can’t and could have,
Butting heads with treasured idols;
Tracking sticky mud across the new waxed
Marble floor of the soul –
Scratching graffiti on the walls of the heart
Or gently laying kisses on fresh jagged wounds –
Carrying baggage filled with
Stones of calendar pages;
Chanting loudly of sunrise and sunset,
Blending crystal snow with newborn leaves;
Escaping clutches of midnight marauders
Embracing the fairness of rose and mauve;
Ignorance ignored screaming,
Scrapping tender knees and elbows on pebbled concrete,
Painting chaos – weaving breaths – unclogging drains –
Knitting together quietness in blooms of Claire de lune.
Poetry wears the words of frowns and grins
And tells of fat ducklings waddling through spring;
Wrapping scars in isolation,
Discarding blindness
In ancient hearts and newborn souls
And all the in between;
Cleaning closets stuffed to overflowing
With emptiness;
Running with ambivalence,
Looking into the eyes of the unresolved,
Fighting wrinkles or teetering on high heels –
Tuxedos rushing by the tattered,
Ragged holding hands with
Fire dancers balancing upon tight ropes –
Drinking fully from a trough
Of clearest spirits, giving up thirst,
Then wrestling with the fevers
Of inspiration through witness eyes,
Shouting across the centuries in baritone and soprano,
Reaching out and gathering in – juggling balls and overflowing plates.
The very marrow and the core.
The words of a poet yesterday – “Pretty, hell, poetry is life.”
Robert Penn Warren – June 1986
As answers deceive
The questions stand
And dancers leave
To track the sand
Round robin conspiracy
Threatening us all
The letters all lower case
Their finality tall
Butting my head
Inside of the line
“When does it end Father,
Maybe this time”
The black and the white of it
The tall and the short
The poisons the same
One knife for a fork
New action will free
What inaction restrains
To once again, once again
Once again drain
So back to the future
Back to the past
Choose not your weapon
You’ve had your last laugh
The wind’s in the vestibule
New breath in the hymn
Your darkness reveals
What the light needs to win
With seven unsavory
And eight left to roast
The turkey unstuffed
Leaving room for the ghost
So ride away, ride away
Ride away all
The damage inflicted
This hammer a maul
The blood’s in the alleyway
Life beckons on
Death has been slaughtered
—as begins the new song
(Rosemont Pennsylvania: August, 2014)
Today is the day my heart has to take a stand
Against the agony and anguish of being alone.
Hopefully today, my head can make it understand
That it has unequivocally had the upper hand.
It’s a prudent proposition, the evidence has shown;
Today is the day my heart has to take a stand.
How can you hold on to this hollow strand
Holding this overly oppressive weight of stone?
Hopefully today, my head can make it understand
That forever is but a forgotten fire never fanned
By the fervor of two fevered souls never grown.
Today is the day my heart has to take a stand.
Hasn’t the bullying, bullfighting, butting and
Beating been enough to burst every single bone?
Hopefully today, my head can make it understand
That war is definitely warranted and I command!
Love has become loathsome liar we must disown!
Today is the day my heart has to take a stand,
Today, my head will make it understand.
Fawning and falling, there goes your heart butting
in again. faded careworn jean jacket's pockets frayed
no longer the deep indigo to match her eyes,
daring me to swing higher than she rocketing skyward
instinct failing me., how I want it to kick in..
nothing left to say, as the day wore thin, only she knew why..
go away with me in her eyes, please stay with me in mine.
Cunning cheeks proud, tho' gaunt.., how poor she must be.
asked her when she last had something to eat
restless heart hers.., so different than any I'd ever known
only a small handbag that looked once to've been mauve
lean lesson in friendship's hardest won friend..
'cause I need her to know someone cares if only this once,
so sad to see society steal her smile away.
She'll find it again, I always hoped this for Carol..
messy bun lip glossed lips whistle at a plateless car
in yet another restless turn of the sun..
lovely loveless one that learned so much from the street
endless search for you, virtue's never ending trap for me..
the lonely prey swam for his life
Now alone with so much strife,
teeth bared in a snarl of fear I dove for cover
Past Neptune and Apollo and their dead lovers ,
hoping to lose them in the forest of kelp
Knowing in my heart I needed help
The whites lazily swam over head ,
Waiting, patiently waiting for their chance
Feeling all might be lost I prayed to their mighty host ,
Neptune deliver me from your guardians
And I will toast your name whenever you claim
Quick as summer lightning the dolphins came
bringing joy of heart and hope to my lonely plight
The battle raged , the dolphins darted amidst the whites
sleek and quick , nudging and butting they picked their prey apart
The whites parted allowing me to pass,
and to the surface as I started
these words echoed in my brain
Don’t come back ,my servants still wait ,
you got your prize but my secrets and jewels remain
I guard this place and I wont answer again
your pleas for help to stake your claim
HAPPY BIRTHDAY NANNA!!!
A day in the year assigned to her
Possibly an early start with a smooth breakfast
Perhaps just a lie in
Yawn
Boldly presented presents, all chosen by her
Idiosyncratic things:
Rotating-head electric toothbrush
The new, modern updated mobile phone
Her personal choice of fine wines
Dinner is taking place with the family
A chance for her to misbehave:
“You remember – its Nanna’s birthday!
Nanna is given a cuddle by her grandson
A kiss (well, him cheek-butting her lips)
Naughty grins from both parties
Now it is time to let Nanna go wild on her day
Awesome
Trump On A Funny Farm
Trump's lips do look like Donald Duck
Sad imitating palsied person when he does cluck
Like a cruddy chicken carries on and on
Sure hope pretty soon he will be gone.
Down people he will cut and criticize
Has short stubby hands and sleazy eyes
Then he really tries to put you to the test
When he starts a head-butting contest.
To keep up with Trump we simply refuse
Way people does mishandle and will misuse
Thought of him as President surely alarms
He belongs on either an animal or funny farm.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Where I got the name Holy06 does not matter but the origin of name is signification
I have experience online game play maybe a few times but I must say when I join
MLG PRO It was pros that already claim me in there clans “The Ghost Was Here”
See each console has a generation live span see when you get older you have responsibility
But who would not want to be around when the global tournament is in Japan happens
Where they are build a Billion dollar tournament I hear that is a tournament already build
In France Bigger then the Super Bowl our culture is different in America
One time we had a discussion on MLG PRO that PC or Console game it last it the entire
NCAA College basketball tournament game I watch and now University is think about
Video game as a scholarship
The question is why do gamers get into it about names that is to answer the originally question
But theory has it if you can do it in a video game you can do it in real life that is
Killer Instinct or know
As the Warrior G and if not true why is the military butting training mix in with video games in
There Institution
Holy06 Next Level Gamer!
My Little Miss does not do 'aloof'
One kitty dash as I sit, and poof!
Lap kneading, too greedy
Head butting, so needy
I declare love, but she demands proof-
No Sunday sleep-ins will she allow
Every 6 a.m. is time for chow!
Pawing, purring alarm
Furry butt on my arm
No snooze button shuts off her meow-
4/21/20
For Janice Canerdy's "Limerick" contest
The syllable count was confirmed on howmanysyllables.com