Best Day Old Poems
It often trickles slowly, timid and shy
From the inner eyelid of a song
Or down the cheek of a distant mountain
A sunset rising beyond the hill, or moonlight on the window sill
A rose in bloom…a drop of dew…so tiny, sweet and beautiful
It fills a cup with voiceless wonder, and deep affection
It languishes softly…with wild abandonment
And will not be tamed
But, another kind is rooted deep
Buried where the light can’t reach
The anguish of the world falls on it’s cheek
It dwells beside the hopeless shore
Until thundering waves can't be ignored
The first single tear drifts down the walls
Into the shadowy tide of a river, longing
Bleeding old wounds, through all the old hurts
Looking for a place to hide
The sky above the earth will darken
Behind a leaden, lumpy cloud bank
Now the day has puckered up a bottom lip
Round spattering tears are warm
Prelude to the storm
The day will weep
Until it falls asleep
.....................
For the One Silver Tear Contest: 7/26/12
Categories:
day old, day, old, sad,
Form:
Free verse
Ronald was a tough old ram, the biggest of his breed
Daniel was a clipperman, renowned of shearing deed
Many sheep were sheared that day and woolless they had fled
Before those two met in affray and battled in the shed!
Ronald, he had seen old Wallace wrestled to the floor,
Mugged of his dignity and fleece, and knew that it was war
And seeing that his turn was nigh, his hooves he dug in deep
He'd fight and though perhaps he'd die, at least he'd die a sheep.
Daniel had no time to waste, he'd quotas set to keep
And unprepared, he reached in haste to take the waiting sheep
But Ronald steeled himself as Daniel took him by the horn
And, rearing, pulled himself away before he could be shorn.
Off-balance, Daniel stumbled, to Ronald's great delight
Onto his knees he tumbled as the shears flew out of sight
And Ronald now unhanded felt his victory increase
Protecting his sheep dignity and, likewise, his sheep fleece.
But Daniel was not beaten yet, he knew that he'd faced worse
His mind was still determined set, he rose up with a curse
But still he was unsteady and Ronald was a ram
His head was lowered ready and he charged the clipperman
Ronald's head met Daniel's side and toppled him again
This time headfirst and to collide his head against the grain.
Leaving, stunned, the clipperman upon the wooden floor
In final victory, the ram strolled out the open door.
But, alas, 'tis not the way that sheep triumph at last
And Daniel would not see the day that any sheep got past
Despite Ram Ronald's victor's pride, the shearer would not yield
So followed a less dignified pursuit around the field.
Ronald, he was fast and he had four legs matched to two
So Daniel was outclassed, if that was all that he could do,
But he also had a sheepdog and so Ronald was defeated
He would have had the victory, if Daniel hadn't cheated.
Categories:
day old, adventure, animals, funny, imaginationold,
Form:
Rhyme
Sat on top of High Lonesome Hill
It would scream, cry, lacked grease and oil
The lonely sound as the mountain wind would blow
Pumped ice cold water, thirsty cows would drink their fill
In the summer time, the Sun would boil
Still pumping even in the snow
Built out of oak timber
Many years ago, strong as the day was long
Storms come and go, still standing tall
Never missed a day of work since I can remember
And singing it's mournful song
For a bunch of thirsty cows, it was "Cattle Call"
The road there was an old dry creek bed
In the oak trees, the deer would hide
I would ride there on a buckskin bay
For hours of dreaming and resting my head
All that was yesterday
Windmill spin as you pump the cowboy's gold
With a piece of beef jerky, a no finer meal
If that could only happen again
Like the memory that only a cowboy can hold
That old spinning windmill wheel
It was Heaven without any sin
Categories:
day old, cowboy-westernold, day, old,
Form:
My heart was pumping hard that day I faced the maddening crowd,
Despite the spinning in my head I stood there mighty proud.
Though racked with pain my reddened hand acknowledged them a wave
And to this day I've ne'er forgot, the accolades they gave.
It was a dream come true you see to stand there in that ring,
For rodeo was in my blood and one day I'd be king.
The beast I drew was mean and lean ... no Chainsaw I admit,
But still if I could just ride time I'd show them I had grit.
I'd limbered up behind the chute preparing for the ride,
Well knowing what was just ahead, but took it in my stride.
The chute boss called, "You've drawn chute five, get down and make it quick."
Then as I eyed the beast below ... I suddenly felt sick.
That brute it tried to climb the gate and bellowed cries of fear,
While chute hands fought to organise the necessary gear.
I felt the violent quiver of the hide between my chaps,
The smell of sweat, the cry of men ... a change of mind perhaps?
Too late I felt the rope pulled taut and shoved within my glove,
I thought it's now or never mate and sent a prayer above.
Then as I pulled my Colly down I yelled out, "Let him go!"
The gate flew open ... it was on ... 'twas time to rodeo.
With whites of eyes all full of hate that beast did twist and turn,
'Twas obvious my frame aboard was something he did spurn.
Eight seconds on this beast from hell seemed like eternity,
For ev'ry muscle which I owned screamed out in agony.
Between the jars and twists and turns I heard the crowd all cheer,
Then at long last that blessed sound of hooter in my ear.
The pick up man then pulled me clear and was I proud ... not half!
I'll ne'er forget that day old mate I rode that poddy calf.
Categories:
day old, funny, day, prayer, day,
Form:
Rhyme
He was out of Woodie Wonder by the stallion Sunset Hue,
A freak thought breeding purists, who would surely end up glue.
For greys were so unfashionable he'd never get a start,
But this colt was a fighter with a truly valiant heart.
His origins were New South Wales, but sold up Queensland way,
'Twas Pippos, Coorey, Bishop and McMicking bought the grey.
A Goondiwindi syndicate, who gave the colt his name;
Gunsynd ... the punter's darling ... who raced his way to fame.
He'd never be a Peter Pan, a Carbine or Phar Lap,
No Tullock or a Galilee, but still a gallant chap.
Bill Whelow was his trainer and John Edmonds rode The Grey,
Till finally at Eagle Farm this colt was on his way.
It was the Hopeful Stakes that day in nineteen sixty-nine,
Young Gunsynd flashed from thirteenth place to cross the winner's line.
His trademark was his courage, his will to want to win
And how he made the crowds all stand to cheer the grey horse in.
They loved The Grey's performances; a showman through and through
And though he never always won they saw him as true blue.
Before and after races, he would play the press and crowd
By standing to attention while they clapped and cheered aloud.
With twelve wins to his credit Tommy Smith was now the chap,
Who trained Gunsynd while Langby won the Epsom Handicap.
He was the punter's darling, for he never squibbed a race,
That's why the folk all loved him, for he never did lose face.
The white and purple colours were well known at ev'ry track,
Australia's best known jockeys sat astride old Gunsynd's back.
The likes of Olsen, Higgins and young Langby rode The Grey
And flashed to blist'ring finishes, he raced no other way.
In over fifty starts Gunsynd had twenty-nine great wins;
Some eight point five times second placed, but took it on the chin.
Six thirds and unplaced in ten starts throughout those grand five years,
His name was up there with the best who'd raced to great careers.
Though sold to stud in New South Wales, Kia Ora down near Scone,
Queenslanders all adopted him and saw him as their own.
He'd put old Gundy on the map and right down to this day
Gunsynd is still remembered as The Goondiwindi Grey.
Categories:
day old, animals, history, sports, old,
Form:
Ballad
With each clenched fist that you punch me
One step closer to hell you get
For I will not always be ten years old
And each beating you will live to regret
With each open hand that you slap my face
Your coffin you’re starting to build
You may think its instilling discipline
But I’m plotting a vengeance that I will fulfill
If I were you I would begin to wonder
Why my ten year old son, for years, hasn’t cried
Don’t believe that you have turned me into a man
Just because my childhood has given up and died
One day soon I will be stronger than you
And that is when I am planning to strike
That day soon will be upon us two
And the outcome you are not going to like
A murder sentence is not a deterrent for me
Because I will be free of your tyranny
I need not plan the perfect crime
For I’ll gladly serve the prison time
Be wary, old man
Your end is near!
Your journey to hell
Is almost here!
NOTE: This poem is in no way, shape or form an autobiographical write. It is simply the product of an active imagination that also watches the evening news.
Categories:
day old, life, old, day, old,
Form:
Rhyme
poor Walter Jacobs, a wretched soul was he
one day he said he had enough, then hung himself from a tree!
the tree was old and brittle, its branches gloomy and dead,
which snapped like a fragile twig, as Walter fell on top of his head!
from the tallest building in town, he decided to make a jump,
he landed on a construction scaffold, which made a loud..."KA-THUMP!!"
he grabbed an old revolver, one that he swiped from his mother,
the bullet passed through his empty skull, one ear and out the other!
he laid across some railroad tracks, silent as an unspeakable mime,
wouldn't you know that train had stopped, just in the nick of time!
a bottle of sleeping pills didn't do the trick!
he barfed like a volcano, they only made him sick!
he drove his car off a bridge, such a stupid plan he hatched,
he walked away unscathed, without a single scratch!
he set himself on fire, but the flames quickly died
all he lost were the hairs on his butt, which badly singed his pride!
one day Walter said to himself,..."life ain't so bad, what the heck!"
just then he tripped over his sleeping cat, and broke his freakin' neck!
a moral behind this writing? i knew you'd quickly ask!
no one said life was easy, each day's a difficult task!
death's beyond the horizon, time passes all too fast,
life's with us for only a moment, slow down and make it last!...
Categories:
day old, life, time, upliftingold, day,
Form:
Rhyme
Once upon a time a little bunny was grazing
Totally innocent that something amazing
Was about to happen in an interesting way
As she was eating in the field that day
As you all must know and are very aware
That a bunny is tiny just from being a hare
Dinosaurs are old and of a mammoth size
Them being friends one can hardly surmise
Imagine this bunny with her long pretty ears
Meeting a dino of a million years
Him a Kentrosaurus with a big long tail
Her a rabbit and so delicately frail
One noticed the other eating clover too
So dino said to her how do you do
I am a dino and what is your name
Lets dine together for we eat the same
This bunny was cute and dino was shy
He liked her a lot but didn’t say why
This dino so big and terribly tall
This rabbit so cute and terribly small
One day it rained was a really big storm
He kept her dry and that kept her warm
So they became closer day after day
They wanted it always to be that way
Then one bright and sunny morning
Came some men without any warning
And they said this old dinosaur
Escaped out through our back door
In case you think that’s a mystery
Was the museum of natural history
So this is the end, the story is through
Could be more funny if it were true
Categories:
day old, funny, old, day, old,
Form:
Free verse
I remember the old rustic barn
Long ago in the sweet month of May
My sister Louise and her newly found squeeze
Were having a roll in the hay
She'd sneak to the neighborhood bar
And drink with young Larry and Chuck
She'd dance on a table, all willing and able
And take off her clothes for a buck
They'd pay just one dollar for a whoop and a holler
And an evening of boisterous play
Then they'd head for the barn, for some fun and a yarn
And dance til the sunrise broke day
At four in the morning, when day was a dawning
Old Pappy had gone for his gun
He crept up the ladder to the boys who had "had" her
And shouted they all better run
"I'll bring in the law to those lads in the straw
So, come outta your hiding place please!'
The boys did appear, each clutching a beer
And jumped from the loft to the floor
As naked as jays they ran separate ways
Trying to make for the door
With a shriek of denial
Louise ran for a mile
Dressed in her silk pantaloons
And I think of that day
As I chuckle away
At those bare bottomed
Chaps of eighteen
And Louise met a farmer who tried hard to calm her
And keep her away from the skids
She cooked and she sewed and kept the grass mowed
And bore the old geezer six kids
Categories:
day old, funny, dance, old, dance,
Form:
Limerick
In-laws
And their flaws
Sisters and brothers
Ma’s and Pa’s
Some are sweet
Some are cold
Some are young
Some are old
They’re short
They’re tall
They talk too much
But they never call
Some will drink a coke
Others will have a beer
I hear someone saying “I’m thirsty”
Here’s a class of water my dear
“I like rib eye steak; I like roasted chicken”
“I like baked salmon; the food is in the kitchen”
“Is there anything that I’m missing?”
“Naugh Bob keep looking at Miss, I think he’s smitten”
We ate
We talked
We danced
We all had a good time
Family, friends and in-laws
People are cool no matter what their titles
When it’s all summed up
The day was delightful
Categories:
day old, day, old, sweet,
Form:
Rhyme
I reckon you could rightly say that I am from the old school,
But some of the politically correct stuff today, as a general rule,
Leaves me scratching my skull, baffled and so incredulous,
Groping for the proper words as I try to be cautious and sedulous!
When I was growing up many years ago, people were "happy and gay!"
I know I step on sensitive toes but that term would offend some today!
When you were "happy and gay" it meant that you were jolly and elated,
But "gay" has a different connotation today, completely unrelated!
When you "made love" in my day it usually meant you were "necking",
Parked in your old jalopy, music playing, smooching and pecking!
Nowadays, "making love" has a different connotation, but I'll keep it clean!
I shouldn't have to draw a picture - I think you'll figure out what I mean!
Families were disgraced in my day when young Susie was found with child.
She was scorned and sent to "visit Aunt Gladys" out of state, to put it mild!
Seems it's a badge of honor today and is something to be glorified!
Well, whatever, but if it were my kid I would be sorely mortified!
Gossip would run amok when a couple "shacked up" in my old hometown!
Today, "living together" is the politically correct term for settling down!
This was written with lingua in cheek but freedom of tongue guarantees,
That this four score old coot can write anything that he dang well please!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
day old, funny, old, day, old,
Form:
Rhyme
If it's just the organ grinder
with his little pet monkey
give him a penny
and send him on.
If it's just the organ grinder
coming around to tell me
what time it is,
tell him I bought a clock.
I had a tolerance for the old man
and his little dressed up monkey,
but day after day the same old tune,
I grow bored. He was quaint once
but now I'm seated comfortably.
If it's just the organ grinder,
give him a penny, or two cents,
send him on to the next house.
Categories:
day old, allegory, angst, imagination, lost
Form:
Free verse
Buy one, get one free!
Waste no time, come and see!
If you are looking for a metaphor
please check the green box at the front door.
Similes are in a stack, take all you want
Hiding under the wizard's hat.
Acrostic words, there are very few
But there are many old and new haiku.
Love phrases are stacked sky high
Wasted tears stacked up to the sky.
Woeful plea's, some old some new
Pick the one best suited for you.
Quatrains in piles are in rows of four
Couplets in twos sit by the back door.
Pantoun, sonnets, odes of love
Are on ladders reaching the heavens above.
Take your time for For verses of rhyme,
Some are borrowed from old father time.
This sale will be held just for a day
I have things to do, happiness is on the way.
Buy any one with a kiss, two of any thing with a hug
Three by standing on your head, , four with a tug...
On my day dreams ready to go out and play
Recycled heart strings are free...molded in clay.
The sale ends at midnight on the day after forever!
No returns accepted, take every purchase and do something clever!
Sunday. September 30, 2012
For SKAT"s Contest
Categories:
day old, happiness, old, day, old,
Form:
Couplet
father's day is near
what to buy for dear old dad
cologne tools or clothes
maybe will just suprise him
with a nice father's day cake
Tho Dear Old Dad is gone
He Loved Suprises For Father's Day
Happy Father's Day
To All Poetry Soup Dads
RIP Daddy { 1925-1981}
Categories:
day old, death, dedication, father, imagination,
Form:
Tanka
A day of sadness a day of upset
My son another job, he did not get
Useless I felt there was nothing I could do
Impotent in all I could say and do.
My heart wrung for this son of mine
He had been used and abused in work for sometime
Now finding it hard to get new employ
I didn’t know what else to do for my boy.
In impotency I searched the web sites once more
The lies the deceits there no jobs through their door
In anger and frustration I sat down and cried
But to help my boy, I continued, I tried.
After more searches it was the old fashioned way
A phone call to someone there’s no more to say
He managed to get a job right there and then
It was that day that I took up my trusty old pen.
My first poem left my pen at speed with no effort
It was called something like, ‘I do want to work’
I posted it out to a local magazine
They published it, my first poem was seen.
I found that it relieved some pent up stress
And it hurt no one there is no duress
So I came to poetry to learn to express
Hope and good feelings and try not to depress.
Poetry is now a part of my life
If I were a man it would be my wife
Words of love and of hope they do abound
Since this wonderful world of poetry I found.
©~GG~ 18/03/2013
Contest Entry
Categories:
day old, introspection, day, son, old,
Form:
Rhyme