Best Couth Poems
Somewhere in youth I strayed from truth.
And grew up to not have much couth.
The door bell rang the onus chime.
Snuck out the back to bide some time.
I wandered streets in every bar.
It's not a wonder I didn't get far.
There's many phases to the light.
And many choices, wrong and right.
The path is never cut and dried.
The mirror can always tell who lied.
Windows, doors and walls and ceiling.
Can keep the shadow from revealing.
The best that one can hope to do.
Is to not know shame when they are through.
Mistakes we make can be forgiven.
But the one inside needs to start liven'.
Ludwig ii
A Bavarian King with no bone bad
A Bavarian King introverted not mad
A king who lived life by night
A king who stayed out of sight
The Swan king was his given name
from Bavarian bloodstock he came Maximilians Death took away his youth
On throne pomp splendoured and couth
Peer pressure never kneel
Twas Opera Ludwig did feel
Richard Wagner was his one true love
Ludwig fitted Wagner hand in glove
A queen, A queen the Bavarians did wish
Lovestruck Elsa dry eyes diminish
Conformity died during Ludwigs reign
His sexuality showed no shame
Lake Starnberg scene of demise
Mystery death .Murder or boat capsize
The King ,The King long live the King
Life lived how he chose leaving no offspring
thank you
Some say
they were pure white trash
and the rich took a glancing pass
as we walked the streets bared a....
But not one of us really cared
ignoring their well to do stares.
As kids, we all laughed and danced
annoying the better dismay glance.
Mama took us by the hand
and the teens acted as if they were part of a grunge band
and such disarray kept us always on display
as we happily danced away.
Some watcher bees said we must live in forest trees
having no iota of couth when we sneezed
but still, we were happily unawares and that's the truth
pure white trash never needed things for worth's proof.
When dinning out in a restaurant there are things you should not do!
Please use the napkins that have been provided not the edge of the table cloth
while pretending to be absentminded and leaning lopsided
If your roll flies of the table politely say whoops or even oops will do
as long as you pick it up so someone else doesn't ski doo
When your belly is a little larger and is sitting on your plate
as you try to investigate what happen to your plate
sit further back or bring your own crate
While eating your delicious dinner you proceed to pick your nose
explaining to your guest a fly flew up your hole
when you know this isn't so
Now as for gas goes you feel your stomach start to rumble and roll
seeking a way out below
whether it's loud, quite, or a little tweak it's definitely going to stink
If you feel a burp coming on leaving a taste in your mouth
like that of a derriere
keep your mouth closed so nobody else has to wave and swear
Now ladies with the bright red lip stick who feel you have to rub
your teeth with your fingers searching for those sneaky food invaders
do it in the bathroom and you can even use your tweezers
When dinning out without a doubt good hygiene is a must
please at stay home if your hair is so greasy it's started to gather dust
While slurping can be a sign of good taste
it's not if you are eating in haste and half of the food is on your face.
So please show some couth when dining out!
T Reams 4/4/2015
To you my precious Valentine,
I raise my glass of wine!
Tho' you have driven me to drink,
'Tis you I truly love (I think)!
You are so lovely to me my dear.
I shall always want you very near!
Tho' you have the couth of a battering ram,
You're still my darling Valentine, madame!
Happy Valentine's Day to you my sweet!
Ours is a romance with love replete.
But when whispering sweet nothings in my ear,
Please refrain from burping up your beer!
Happy Valentine's Day to you my beloved wife.
Without you 'twould be a very dismal life.
I'm looking forward to romantic years ahead,
Tho' the dye of your hair be purple, black or red!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Entry for Carol Eastman's "Humor Contest"
My long-sufferin' Mother tried to teach me the rudiments of social graces,
So as not to make a fool of myself at fancy affairs and such other places.
But even so, at the school prom I splattered sauce on the tux I had rented!
So much fer impressing my date who thought me somewhat demented!
I can still remember Mom's admonitions as if it were yesterday:
"Say please, thank you and pardon me to those you meet along the way."
"The napkin ain't used fer blowin' yer nose or as if washin' yer face."
"Keep it short and to the point should you be asked to say the grace."
"Keep yer elbows off the table, sit up straight with one hand on yer lap."
"Don't hog conversation and if you've nothin' sane to say, clam yer trap."
"Learn to use the silverware properly so as not to be disgraced."
"Tell the hostess what a fine meal it was (tho' not necessarily to yer taste)."
"Don't start eatin' 'til the hostess begins and don't guzzle too much wine."
"Always help the lady on yer right to be seated before you begin to dine."
"Open yer car door and other doors fer ladies and they'll appreciate that."
"Rise when ladies or elders enter the room and remember to tip yer hat."
"Offer yer arm to sweet old ladies and assist them to cross the street."
"Tell moms their babes are cute (even if not) but be very discreet."
Mom's sage advice was well taken but today it seems that it was all for naught,
Since many folks ain't got no couth or respect nor behave as they ought!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
A destructive dance indeed,
betwixt the two we bleed.
A bellowing, bloody abate,
this stale, seductive state.
Simple, senseless steeds,
jealous fires feed.
Perjuring petty plights,
demons do delight.
A crimson, cheaters chair,
awful angers air.
No trust, truth or taste,
wallowed wantons waste.
Envious, eager eyes,
rejoicing a wrathful rise.
Coveting, careless couth,
yesteryear's eager youth.
All alone here I sit, in this hell I call home.
With no motivation to silence these moans.
There's junkies in the next room, and tweekers below,
outside on the street, a whore with no one to blow.
There's a crackhead with a pit-bull, and a toddler in tow
she's looking to score, but the gangster says "no".
She curses and shouts as she heads down skid row, to
the mark on the Drew, who's been known to hold blow.
Down the staircase I'm winding out and onto the street
with Cecillia as my anchor, we step to the beat.
I stagger or swagger,
it depends who I meet.
I'm off to see Mary, and the kids on King street.
When I get there it's early and the kids are asleep.
Their chemical consumption has altered their beat.
The street is deserted and I feel like a creep.
Ya, I'm fitting right in, in this hell I call home.
So I'm off to the station, with a head that can't think.
I curse the men with the money, and the ice in their drinks.
And the ones who reign judgment? I don't care what they think.
All I need is my escape from this hell I call home.
I arrive at the station and my mans at the booth.
I approach him and ask with the slang that is couth.
He fixes me up and I get high as the roof.
Another lost Thursday morning, in this hell I call home.
One of my boyhood dreams was to become a successful functionary,
With an office with a view, a fine oak desk and a pretty secretary!
To wear a suit and tie (to me) would be the pinnacle of success.
I was sick of wearin' brogans and overalls - I'd settle for nothin' less!
I suppose to a certain degree my youthful dreams came true.
For thirty years I wore a tie with the Air Force suit of blue.
Anon, the wearin' of a suit and tie had lost much of its appeal.
My discomfiture at wearin' a stranglin' tie became hard to conceal!
My spouse attributes my disdain for suits and ties as a lack of cultivation.
To not wear a suit and tie to church she considers an abomination!
I'll deign to wear such garb for a weddin' or funeral to be a tad more couth,
But I suffer thro' each excruciatin' minute of the ordeal to tell the truth!
Here in the wild west, a well-dressed dude wears scruffy boots and jeans.
Shucks, the feller could be a prosperous rancher and a man of means!
I'm in heavenly bliss wearin' my jeans sans a constrictin' suit and tie.
I feel as free as a golden eagle soarin' in the pristine Colorado sky!
I reckon that when I cease to function and bid my friends adieu,
That they'll insist on displayin' my mortal shell for everyone to view.
But if they dress me out in a daggone suit and especially a throttlin' tie,
There ain't no delicate way to express it - I'll just up and die!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Hold up the mirror and see who are
Your inflated ego an your sports car
How dare you take it out on us
Lash out in anger an make such a fuss
Face the truth and have some couth
Repent or the pain will not lesson
An stop this aggression
We will not be Threatened......
The Elephant Gift.
upon the elephant rode a boy prince,
his royal command, he was there to evince.
dark with grace and dripping with youth.
bringing his men, his crown and his couth.
town after town he strode fierce through the gates.
and any detractors were left to cruel fates.
and on one windy day, as they strode into town.
the faces where tenfold and a hush passed around
the grey of the creature with knowing black eyes
swayed left towards the crowd as if to capsize.
and the mass gasped in horror; bairns seized by their mam.
men flung at young ladies, babes pulled from the pram.
the bewildered and flustered
tired elephant sat.
in the center of all on the bald pastors hat.
the old pastor looked stunned to see such a disgrace.
until he remembered, and composed his face.
'your highness' he bowed. his manners restored.
but the poor prince was toppled his mighty seat floored.
they gasped for the prince, just really a child
dressed in fine silks on this elephant wild.
pastor said, 'here now' extending an arm
hand wrinkled and gnarled from the land that he farmed.
then the guards sprung to life as if sudden awake
guns point to the man of whose life they would take.
and just as they squinted their eye for the aim
a boy sang out sweetly, 'sire he's not to blame!'
and the prince from street where he lay in pool
held up his hand and recovered his rule.
he looked at the crowd and he said 'boy now speak'
the boy said, 'prince it is the prayers that you seek.
the prayers that you'd visit. the prayers that you'd stay.
lord must of heard them and granted this way.'
his eyes wide with truth and the love of his church
the prince laughed a beautiful belly filled lurch.
the carriage was called as the prince shared a feast.
and even some water was splashed on the beast.
such a good time as he danced and he spun
till the horses arrived in the dust of a run.
to thank the town and the lovely haired boy
the young prince gave up his own precious toy.
the beast stays quite put in the center of town...
but prayers? Say no more...
so the prince won't fall down.
Good morning mister, of thy kindness to receive,
All groans of yester, thou does seem to reprieve,
With a promise to stir, tinges optimiste do contrive,
Pain’s sphincter lets laughter, it’s another reason to live.
Swaying pyjamas on sling, the autopsy right begins,
Stayed on the bed is a rolling, whom my kitchen concerns,
“Who took that mine bedding, and Ngwaci scantily obtains?
Wanna see me cast the ring, that thine blossom returns?”
The morning prescription taken, I am innocuously abased daily,
To equate with all good men, whose wives possess jealously,
For what woman with a noble token, shirks to lose recklessly?
Taught in the womb that lesson, it break suspicious smiles secretly.
So a frowned fellow I am, and not alone in this generation,
Often silent kicks boom, where behind the driver I myself resign,
Mister, let the news come, you know, cowboys pay to listen,
Devising to forget the theme, but slaughters make to mourn.
A day received with glory, all mine suffer classic deplores,
My stem with a rigorous forgery, in front of the boss affords strange chores,
The cold of June here has a story, then an undeliberate sudden Salsa implores,
My acquittal is my worry, nobody cares to hear the weather course.
Soon ‘t’s time the cycle to restart, wishing a fair friend had that control
remote,
All these woes at will to alleviate, yet as I am, they incur not the respite,
With some spreed daily to hurt, alone I remain, a man of living heart,
I choose to live life when I find it, even if minutes thirty like a concert.
I rise with and as clear as the sun, I return crumbled like muddy earth,
This manner of men taught me none, but the proverbial sways of youth,
What shall I do but a resolve one, tonight, where else to go but Unguth!
Limited of option, I have all mornings mine, even if not couth.
Grace is the right balance
of humor, tact, and wit.
Touting propriety,
couth, and civility.
Innocence, with a tinge
of righteous arrogance.
Genteel fluidity,
in dress and decorum.
And the epitome,
of femininity.
Do you know what really burns my ass
A flame about ass high, now that's quite crass
Have you no couth?
Not a bit, that's the truth
Something's burning, TOO LATE... my ass is now ash
© Jack Ellison 2015
HER:
I'm on this blind date.
HIM:
(Baby, it's cold outside).
HER:
This date AIN'T so great!
HIM:
(Baby, it's cold outside).
HER:
I'd rather be home...
and watch paint dry!
It takes me five hours to get ready!
My Dior dress looks sexy and chic!
This half-wit is dressed in a teddy -
my best friend set me up with a freak!
HER:
We sit down to eat.
HIM:
(Baby, you look so fine).
HER:
His breath smells like feet!
HIM:
(Wishing that you were mine).
HER:
If I pass some gas -
will this jerk leave?
His manners and looks are atrocious -
and broccoli is caught in his tooth!
I'm sorry if I sound precocious:
but he makes a wild warthog seem couth!
HER:
I've got to get home.
HIM:
(Baby, it's cold out there).
HER: (thinking)
You short, KNOCK-KNEED gnome!
HIM:
(Oh, the scent of your hair...).
HER:
I really do think...
this night is done!
You may be a nice beast for someone?
But I'm not the Shrek-ess whom you seek.
My "best friend" will surely adore you -
and entertain you into next week!
HER & HIM:
Baby, it's cold outside!
Sung to the tune of: Baby, it's cold outside!