Best Cocking Poems
Oh if I were a true poet
one that could write a good rhyme
I would compose a few ones
and earn myself a dime.
Why, I'd write about man's folly,
as the robin said to the sparrow:
"Why are men so stupid
their minds so clouded and narrow?"
The sparrow cocking his head replied:
"They accumulate facts and lies,
Little caring about their true intent,
Alas, they are not really very wise."
The robin looked at his red breast,
remembering a Man on a cross,
how He bled, and sighed and suffered
all because of man's grace loss.
The sparrow nodded and smiled.
"Wisdom is not acquired by knowledge, my friend.
It comes when in our lives we've failed
and when we truly try to comprehend."
A bird is a wonder
flying in the air
hopping on the ground
or warbling a song
Pure entertainment all day long
A bird is a curiosity
cocking his head this way and that
sucking a worm from the ground
so juicy, so fat
An aerial and arboreal acrobat
A bird is a parent too
in the grand scheme of things
building a nest for babies
until they take wing
Gently nurturing, fiercely protecting
In the night movement there’s a wary crow
Straight up into the blue moon it flies high
Cocking its flight to avoid its cold rays
Each night in the moon brings a large crow’s sigh
Elbows of their feet bend throughout the air
As the bird sings, a gorgeous sound to me
I can sense its flight near me, overhead
He’s flapping near to me, but I can’t see
Only if the moon is shining greatly
Can I see, tonight it comes in and out
But sure when it comes out of the darkness
The moon only brings shades that are about
Circling there above me cawing with joy
Listening do I hear his great power
Appearing now within the little light
Dips down on me as I stand and cower
Conquering my fear I reach for him near
I hope that he comes onto my dark arm
He does just that, I look deep in his eyes
He swallows my heartbeats without alarm
Now I move to the nearest tree and caw
Allowing him to fly to high branches
Power envelopes me, I seem to float
I must leave him to the highest reaches
Russell Sivey
Far as my eyes can see, 'till lake touches sky,
Earth beats as one; Poplar, Jack Pine & Birch all
Sing with the White Throated Sparrow, our Planet's
Love songs.
Sloping (5'canopy) an ancient Deer trail along the
Baptism River (flowing into Lake Superior) I startle a
Buck during his midday Nap. Soundlessly lifting up,
He elegantly bounces away.
From above, a dark object swoops in, Brother
Raven is curious, (always a sentinel for Hawks
And Bald Eagles). I stand motionless, willing my
Neo-Cortex to flood my aura with peace; as I
Extend my arm and gently imitate the Raven's
Welcome call, a double-beat "Caw caw"...I am
Here Raven, I am me". My heart quickens as
He alights on my arm, talons gripping my
Forearm gently, but firmly. Cocking my head,
I look deeply into his obsidian eyes to his
Soul...he imitates me, tilting his head in unison,
letting my gaze enter. Images from high race
Thru my mind...the rushing river...undulating
Tree tops...in an instant, we have become
Brothers of the wild, as I softly shake my arm
To set him free.
"I am me, Brother Raven, I am me"
05/30/15
© All Rights Reserved
Bank robber Jim was one unlucky bloke
Went to draw his gun but the holster broke
It dropped on the bank floor
And went off with a roar
The shock was too much and he had a stroke...
Though he was unconscious he hadn't died
Woke in a coffin for his final ride
In a desparate bid
Banged on the coffin lid
But all he could hear was laughing outside...
Written 17th June 2021
Then someone shouted can you hear banging
It was quite faint because folks were singing
The sheriff prised off the lid
And he was so glad he did
Because he thought we'll have us a hanging...
Jim didn't know whether to laugh or cry
Resigned himself to the fact that he'd die
Saw sheriff holding a rope
Realised there was no hope
And for unlucky Jim the end was nigh...
He was taken to the gallows in town
Handcuffed and wearing nothing but a frown
Jim was then starting to choke
But with the drop the rope broke
The crowd screamed as poor Jim came tumbling down..
Unlucky Jim jumped up quick as a flash
As he passed the bank ran in and grabbed cash
He stole the first horse he saw
Then let out a loud yee haw
And for sweet freedom he made a quick dash...
Written 19th June 2021
A bounty hunter called Nevada Slim
Went after bank robber Unlucky Jim
With tracker Spirit Bear
They discovered Jims lair
And Jim's future was now looking quite grim...
Slim called out "put your hands in the air"
Jim grabbed his gun, Slim said "don't you dare"
But Jim was too fast
And let off a blast
Slim fell dead then Jim shot Spirit Bear...
Jim quickly packed his things and rode away
Thankful that he'd survived another day
He decided to lie low
But what old Jim didn't know
Was that Pinkertons were heading his way...
Jim was sleeping in the afternoon sun
And didnt hear the cocking of a gun
He woke up with dread
Saw guns at his head
And a lawman said "Jim looks like your done"...
Jim was handcuffed and they rode back to town
There to meet them was Sheriff and Judge Brown
The charges were read
Jim nodded his head
Sheriff said " this time Jim you're going down" ...
For Jims last request he asked for a smoke
And noticed the hangman had a new rope
He put a hood on Jims head
Jim dangled then he was dead
An escape this time!, there wasn't a hope...
Written 1st July 2021
RIP UNLUCKY JIM
misbehaving on the floor
I tease you
but you beg for something more
rugged muscles
spinning you around on all fours
sexy voluptuous thick contours
hard convictions easing into her soft-core
marvelous perfection
naked splendor
creamy submissive skin
supple and tender
nice and warm
with curvaceous wonders
hands containing
sensuous healing powers
applying naughty sacred
foreplay thunder
dirty actions being cleansed by
early morning sun enriched ecstasy showers.....
panty dropping
body rocking
booty popping
heads bobbing
pistol cocking
parts interlocking
once I get started
there is no stopping
romantic aromatic candle lights
sweaty ravenous ravishing nights
lovers making all the wrong things right
tonight is all about getting freaky nasty
nothing polite
Intruding the evening and throbbing like pain
there's a gathering contusion of purple and blue
that fills the horizon, and rattles the plains
With a change in the air, and foreboding, it weighs
turning the sky into gun-metal gray
There are birds I can see, that have bent every limb,
hovering high in the cottonwoods, while cocking their heads..
A hawk circles low over fields growing grain,
scanning for shelter, sensing the rain
Bold, unafraid, something shatters the bones
of an earth that is weary, .. thirsty, and worn
It scatters the birds as we look up the road
where the sun has retreated and troops have composed
There is pathos, confusion, in wind driven clouds
swept in from the rim of darkness, and now
the tongue of a serpent has severed the sky
bleaching the landscape, and blinding the eye.
Earth trembles in pain, dueling swords will collide
Count to ten, as they say, sparks will fly once again
The war isn't over……… Take cover and run!
______________________________________________________
2/23/18
Contest: "Describe a thunder storm without the sense of sound"
Sponsor: Brenda Chiri
Behind, left in dust, of the old gravel road
is a faint trace of Marlboro and a soft summer wind
Skies burn orange and amber, and a blazing red sun,
that is filtered by a windshield, that's never been groomed
A radio station, has more static than tunes
and the song of the work day are tires, worn thin
The sun's going down, where the road never ends
There's a bend near the hill, where a windmill spins slow
and where dozens of blackbirds create ebb and flow
They dapple the rain clouds, like bats out of hell
then will perch pole to pole, plucking heartstrings, as well
Headin' home there are doves, that will bend every limb,
sittin' high in the cottonwoods, while cocking their heads...
Where a hawk circles low over fields, leveled plain
waiting for thunder to bring home the rain
She waits by the door, beneath light from the porch
It halos her hair, like a torch that she's carried
from the day they were married, in a little white church
that has baptized a newborn, asleep in the crib
He drives an old pickup, with a paycheck so slim
He has sweat on his brow, and grit on his chin
He is bringing home flowers, his heart and his grin
There is smoke in the horizon, from a fire within...
Not far, there is heaven where all reason begins
______________________________________________
"Sing Me A Country Song" Contest:
Resubmitted for Skat's Contest: Premiere Contest: #9
Written : 10/12/13
____________________________________________________________
Stuck at the bottom with no view of the top
My people are killing each other while other races come together
Loyalty lighter than the slightest feather
Casualty after casualty, so many getting blown away
Checking the staggering statistics has me lost for words
Arch rivals in this war of color
These hues lead to feuds
The cries of the oppressed cannot be ignored
The bell has been rung and the conversation vibrates
Battle is infinite and the war has just begun
Reaching, cocking, and pulling---
Don't assist them in their massive slaughter
And they tell us to forget the constant tragedies
How can we?
When the news carries disease filled words
Justice was a false allegation that lead to racial penetration
Burning Bullet
As a aromatic substance,
burning like a coolwater incense.
Keeping them in suspense.
I'm a queen I come with my own swarm of bees.
From throwing rocks to carring glocks.
I'm cocking my clip for the new verse that I spit.
Tearing them apart, ripping hearts.
Spilting heads laying them to bed.
My mouth is like a pistol, it shoots pitiless missile's.
You must not know about me.
I bring the heat any where I be.
To the left, to the left, a bullet staright to the chest.
This is my profession, I'm the one who professes!
Burning Bullet...
To true to the game, my style burning like a flame.
Keeping it gully from beginning to the end.
I love being empty within.
Drop the act, you'll stay a hood rat!
Why are you going through my fam like a photographic cam.
I'm a burning bullet...
Just to fantastic, personalitiy is magnetic.
Life style is justifiable justice,
to a journey to how I live this!
Coming up poor, to getting rich making them feel foolish.
A long lived existence....
a burning bullet!
He moves quickly through the underbrush
I follow close behind, pushing
Briars cautiously with a hand prepared
To let go hastily and a throat
Holding onto a shudder in response
To the graze of the briar against
Soft, naked skin
He pulls bare branches back,
Threading his way through the pines,
Oaks, birch and different trees
Who sit waiting the first sunlight beam
Of a morning breaking through the night
Delighting in the flickers of life
Birds chirping, honeybees buzzing,
Deer and rabbit scurrying back toward
Their havens, dens awaiting
Leaves crunch softly beneath our feet
In the heart of the forest where
Silence is never as silent as it seems
He keeps moving and I keep following
Listening to the soft whisper
Of a mountain wood coming alive
I break free from his heavy step
Begin to follow the trail of a doe who must
Be going back to her fawn
And look closely for the signs of life
That cling to the dew covered vines and wild flowers
As they grace the edge of the woods
With lavender breath and a crimson caress
Creating beauty amid the jungle of emerald sighing
Softly, like a trace of joy embracing
The colorful nirvana of a realm that relieves
Hearts of their suffering and minds
Of their anxieties, creates a sphere of bliss
Where only God has the ability to grace its perimeters
With gentle hope that warms the heart
And soothes the spirit
He is with me, but up ahead of me
Where I have yet to see
And I hear it – the lifting of the gun
The cocking is quick and it remains to be seen
If it was my step or the raising of the barrel
That caused the stag to lunge forward
Free from the freezer
Free from death
Free for now
Hunting brings me the assurance
That there are still treasures untold
Within the heart of these mountain trails
Where God’s creatures remind us all
God blesses each one
With a purpose
A function
A aim
We lay watch dogs down into
The center of society
Anticipating explosions in the horizon
Refusing to acknowledge the bomb
Clutched firmly in our sweaty hands
We
We
We
Are so busy focusing
Outside of the looking glass
Preening our feathers and cocking our guns
What exactly are we looking for?
Peering past the homeless, the children
Illiterate people squinting past the stop signs
The hustlers, babies in gangster uniforms
Beaches receding like the hairline on the Statue of Liberty
Our way of thinking
Is getting old
Textbooks used as decorations
Knowledge chokes on itself
Masters dripping profanity
From the urban streets
College board refuses to look past
Test scores and Congress
Denies
The abilities to suspend
Disbelief
Ghetto
Stereos blast unseemly
Prophecies
That we are clamoring to fulfill
America invented the business of
Selling and buying souls
Creating a Monster
The country of vanity and self-inflated egos
Unable to stop ourselves
From creating our own
Tragedies
A CHRISTMAS ARRAIGNMENT
Late one December evening
A sound woke me from my bed,
I grabbed a baseball bat for safety
And crept downstairs full of dread.
I must admit I was not fit
For foiling midnight burglaries.
My cousin had kept pouring eggnog,
I kept on saying, “Yes, please.”
I slunk down the stairs, bat in hand,
Jumping at yet another sound.
But never in my wildest dreams
Did I realize what I had found.
Someone was in my living room!
I could hear them moving around.
So I jumped into the darkened room
And bonked him upon his crown!
He fell face first upon my rug
As you maybe have suspected,
But when I turned on the table lamp
What I saw was quite unexpected.
Santa Claus himself lay unconscious,
My heart filled with a child’s worst fear.
I had gone ahead and clobbered
The source of all Christmas Cheer!
I had to hide the evidence
Or suffer a Christmas curse!
I could not guess how my holidays
Could possibly get any worse.
I dragged that fat elf out into the snow
And began to dig a hole.
I hoped to hide the evidence
Lest I be doomed to a lifetime of coal.
But then he awoke, and began to yell
And my neighbors began prying
To spy the source of all the noise,
The screaming, yelling and crying.
The cops showed up, and saved St. Nick
Before hauling me off to the station.
They said they hoped the judge threw the book
Like I was some inhuman abomination.
Not long after I stood up in court
While the victim showed his bruises.
I tried to tell of eggnog-induced haze
But the judge was hearing no excuses.
I hung my head in utmost shame
While the verdict was entered and read.
I got twenty long years in a state prison cell
For cold-cocking the man in red.
Then Santa’s elvish lawyers worked,
And a fireplace was magically erected,
Santa winked and vanished with a finger on his nose
Although not the one I expected.
Now when Christmas time rolls around this year
And you all have fun with your celebrations,
I sit in my gray ten-by-ten room
Fulfilling my legal obligations.
So take my advice this holiday season
As you fire up the traditional Yule log,
If your cousin is anything at all like mine
Say “No thanks” to a sixth eggnog.
Poor Fido is last in the queue
For cocking his leg on the yew
He hopes the other dogs
Don’t produce poopy logs
He’s bursting to pee and then poo!
Slim is lean, tall, muscled and an inarticulate mass
Of loyalty, independence, pride and downright Western class
Cocking his hat just so he lets loose with his infectious grin
Testosterone overflowing, he’s masculine up to the brim
Mumbling "Shucks" he’ll duck his head and charm the ladies
Saddle-born, he loves the horse he calls "Lazy, Nuts, and Crazy"
Slim kin drink, git drunk, cuss and dance a mean square
He kin hunt, trap, fish and if put to it outrun a riled-up bear
Slim spits, chaws, farts, smokes hand-rolled and sings off-key
He shoots, ropes, hogties, brands and whistles at cows in high C
He’s an introverted soul, painfully shy and awkward in society
The ranch boss’ only daughter says she wants to marry him
Slim and her did hanky and panky after drinking some gin
Slim’s face reddens up to his hair from his chin
Thinking it’s about time to ride out on the wind
Riding tall into the sunset he canters without a backward glance
Looking for the next ranch on open range to give him a chance
To punch a few cows, work a round-up, find a new gal to romance
A Cowboy Is, Why Bless My Soul, It's Slim.