Best Droves Poems
Spring is back.
For hark!
The Eastern Bluebirds have returned,
Flying in droves from tree to tree,
Singing to their hearts’ delight.
No wonder they symbolise
The joy and happiness
Of gardens with fragrance love.
Yet I also admire The Swainson Thrush,
Aspiring grandeur with its fluting song.
A sure sign that Spring is back,
A choir of music mixed with skylarks,
Achieving a harmonious symphony,
A feeling that adds to the joy of bells.
Blades of grass, wet under foot, insect eyes
Dusk, offset by the cricket orchestra
Muted and receding into the trees and bushes,
Tickled by the wind, rattling snake tail wind
While we may be in the company of wolves,
A long legged friend is late for the party
Eyes, little iridescent stars
Attending to each one, and look there,
There she is, making the most beautiful geometry
Parallels within the octagons, pulling silks
An arm for every task, little perpetual motion machine
Is that the Queen of the Night under the rusted iron?
A forlorn lady, black patent leather, kill a man, maybe two
With her danger red symmetry, oozing with youth
And a penchant for paralysis, no one can resist her wine
Then there's the hall of cob webs, threadbare handkerchiefs
Left by ladies who exhausted all of their company
To be a spectacle under the moon, in the wood pile
Dressed up in the finest furs, all earth tones
Stepping out to introduce themselves in girlish droves
Venus of another sort, these little cursed jezebels
Hovering on the skin of the water, or on the red brick wall
Must frequent every happy corner, and slip away at a moment's notice
A real lady always knows when to say goodnight
Such graceful exits through cement cracks
Back to the parlor, to glow in the dark
And they become spiders again
at the break of dawn
a Hummingbird starts his rounds
Morning Glory sought
flaunting a red hue -
Mexican Sunflower tempts
looking hot, hot, hot
the Don Juan of birds
sucking nectar from Beardtongue. . .
drunk on French kisses
Goldenrod at noon. . .
Zephyr carries a sweet scent
beneath a gold sun
between Rose bushes
the Flower Kisser gets lost
in Blue Infinity
Sweet Pea and Bee Balm
entice with purple petals. . .
Bees join the orgy
Monarchs swarm in droves
when blue Hummingbird alights
on Butterfly Bush
Evening Primrose
waving in the dusk’s last breeze. . .
the proper lover
the Flower Kisser
leaves his harem sated as
white Moonflower glows
*The capitalized names for flowers
represent some of the most popular
flowers visited by hummingbirds.
For good, the Druid woods claimed this girl child for its own;
nymphs named the silk-skinned, raven-black of her, Fianna.
This night, she’s hurt hunting demons in her mother’s grove.
She recalls, her fright at five, abandoned in these woods alone.
Nymphs named the silk skinned, raven-black of her, Fianna,
by-blow of a Moor, left as dross in these weird weeping;
she recalls, her fright at five, abandoned in these woods alone.
An adept now, she aids the Weird in its fight with rising hell.
By-blow of a Moor, left as dross in these weird weeping,
raised by the fey, she was taught good from evil well.
An adept now, she aids the glade in its fight with rising hell;
her blessed-onyx points, caste blackhearts from the dell.
Raised by the fey, she was taught good from evil well.
The Blood moon’s rise brings hell’s minions out in droves;
her blessed-onyx points, caste blackhearts from the dell.
Defilers die by her hand and Druid bow bespelled.
The Blood moon’s rise brings hell's minions out in droves.
Rain caught in the leaves revives; moss clots her blood.
Defilers die by her hand and Druid bow bespelled,
as she protects the oak and ash from whispering hell.
Rain caught in the leaves revives; moss clots her blood.
This night, she’s hurt hunting demons in her mother’s grove
as she protects the oak and ash from whispering hell.
For good, the Druid woods claimed this girl child for its own.
First Published by After the Pause
Great King Solomon, wisest of the rulers of Israel,
The favored son of King David, who was beloved of our God,
Did fall from grace in his old age though God suffered him for years.
He warned him and He warned him that his actions would bring tears.
Solomon's wealth and power were known both far and wide,
And kings from other countries brought their daughters for his brides.,
But God said, 'Solomon be wise, send them away from you,
For they are vile before My eyes and all their daughters too.
If you accept them in My son their sins will be on you.'
But Solomon paid The Lord no mind, he welcomed those kings in,
Made pacts, alliances and deals ignoring grievous sins,
Committed by those kings and queens, acts that God abhorred,
And took unto him concubines and wives before The Lord.
Women that God told him were unclean before His eyes,
And that they'd bring their gods with them so strong would be their ties.
That Israel would follow them and he would fall from grace,
And that's just how it happened that Solomon lost face.
Seven hundred took he them and even their gods too.
He let them build their temples and went in with them too.
His heart was turned away from God by the company he kept.
He followed other gods with them and God, Himself, wept.
That's what's happening here today, they're coming here in droves.
Fleeing from oppression that their way of life enclosed.
They say our God offends them and we shouldn't honor Him.
Well their god offends me too so the same is just for them.
They wish to take away from us the very thing they seek.
Denying us our freedoms, our own laws have made us weak.
We are the pagans in their eyes and of little consequence.
They'll change our laws and change our God. I say it don't make sense.
We'll fall from grace like Solomon,
Lose all that we hold dear.
Our freedom gone we'll lose our land,
Then hide and quake in fear.
1Kings 10:11
The glamour of their squalor is found
in specular highlights of crisp brown eyes
peering through mud-matted hair, crying.
Weeks of eating an abundance of whatever,
which consisted of scarcely more than bugs
fished from non-potable cesspools.
A decade seems a long time, until singularly
it accounts for one’s whole life…and yet
we won’t home them, because they are a plague.
Self-righteousness cannot bear the reminder
that “refugees” might be people…children even;
running from nightmares that persist in daylight.
Ignorance is bliss, after all…
and who chooses to come down from a high?
We have full tables, full inns, and empty hearts.
Opportunistic politicians see a platform,
borne on the backs of the starving and desperate,
they manifest feigned outrage and farcical hand-wringing.
Droves follow droves out from the gloomy dread
greeted by cool apathy or worse; outright derision…
what more is to be expected of humanity?
The squalor of our glamour is found
in hopeless disconnection to what matters, or
to the reality that we could have been them.
11/18/15
A brilliant harvest moon hangs beneath the ebon Colorado sky.
Scudding clouds dare not darken its lustrous glow - tho' they often try!
Silhouetted against the moon are geese winging to warmer destinations,
Mysteriously guided by That Master Compass in perfect V formations!
The moon spreads a coat of silver on lakes and rushing streams below.
Yonder, majestic Pikes Peak gleams with a crown of freshly fallen snow!
White tail deer peer shyly from the shadows of golden aspen groves.
Magnificent elk graze in yon valley 'neath the harvest moon in droves!
Lovers, young and old are spellbound by the harvest moonlight's trance.
Mr. Moon has a special knack for setting the tone for love and romance!
They hold hands strolling along moonlit trails to reminisce and dream,
Their glowing faces brightened by the harvest moon's mellow beam!
Families bundle up against the chill to enjoy hay rides and wiener roasts,
And toast marshmallows over roaring fires, telling tales of scary ghosts!
Wizened "hooty" owls emit their throaty moans adding to the eerie scene!
The moon beams benignly o'er Colorful Colorado giving to all a sheen!
When autumn winds begin to blow and trees stand bare and so austere,
We welcome the warming glow of the harvest moon in our hemisphere!
Alas, tho' the harvest moon graces our skies only in the autumn of the year,
The Creator will delight us again come next October - that you need not fear!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
In my cluttered kitchen, I've mopped the floor,
This busy day, this task once more.
I've cooked a chicken a thousand ways,
The same old bird a thousand days.
I know I shouldn't once complain,
"Routine", I moan, "is always the same."
But when it comes as one more chore,
My daily grind seems such a bore.
I glance up, weary, at my task,
And then, through freshly, sparkling window glass
Suddenly, what I've taken for granted,
Becomes, in fact, to be enchanted...
This view of lawn, an acre green,
Fruit trees swaying, in a peaceful scene,
Rolling hills, and oaks in groves,
Sky is blue, and birds in droves.
Our house sits high, where we can see,
The hills in golden symmetry
In all it's glory, with snow-capped peaks.
How could one have such thoughts so bleak?
No buildings, or high-rise blocks the view.
Just nature's wonders, as if the world is new!
Mountains and valleys capture my eyes.
The joy of living, a wonderful life!
God help me never to take for granted
This wondrous vision that I've been handed.
Carrie Richards 11/6/11
Are Lawyers needed? I put to you
to begin our little tale.
Besides the time you smoked that pot
and ended up in jail.
Was justice blind? The scales clogged
yearning to be free.
He saved your butt when danger called
for a modest fee.
They've gone to school and put in their time,
no Medicine or Arts.
To take the Law so the dark side calls
and they put away their hearts.
They get a job and begin their practice,
start working for a firm.
With no beaming parents or loving spouse,
they're a waste of decent sperm.
Your sidewalk's old and the cracks now show,
someone takes a fall.
They're gonna' sue and you're gonna' lose,
a Lawyer you must call.
You take the time as the clock unwinds,
you offer him your case.
No problem there he will take the job,
just mortgage up your place.
He starts to work, takes down the facts
and tells you not to fear.
He'll do his best and conquer all.
You know your check has cleared.
The time arrives and to court you go,
the victim's in a cast.
Your Lawyer smiles, 'Don't feel too bad,
the fella' has a past.'
He tells the judge the guy's not hurt,
he simply has the gall.
To come to court a hundred times
for minor slips and falls.
The Judge agrees and the case is won,
you're happy with his skill.
You're thankful now and free to rest
until you get his bill.
They play the villain and accept our scorn,
this seems to be their fate.
But people flock as they come in droves
with charges to negate.
I ask again are Lawyers needed?
To those of you who care.
When you're alone in Court and try your best,
you haven't got a prayer.
So give them credit as their time has value,
just hang on to your purse.
There is no deed or human plan...
a Lawyer can't make worse.
The End
Black hands and blacker hearts,
Isn't that always how the trouble starts,
When the few above,
Govern the many below,
And olive branch toting doves,
Flee in droves,
Silence the mind,
The heart is talking,
Logic's lagging behind,
Because the fanatics are gawking,
At the fire on his tongue,
That dances as he speaks,
Flint striking the lungs,
Against the matches in his teeth,
"Die a lonely death",
All who pray,
Your faith reeks of Macbeth,
So easy to betray,
Caution with your fever,
You're likely to burn up,
With your flammable cadaver,
And the pitch lining your gut,
My disjointed sense of anger,
At all who oppose,
The fragile sense of order,
That no one seems to know.
Long before the ships arrived
Bringing European man,
America’s native people
Dwelt here and loved this land.
Great Spirit was the name they had
For the God that nurtured them,
They asked his blessings invoked his name
And sent their dead to him.
They organized in time of need
To give them strength of numbers,
Co-operation between the tribes
Often numbered in the hundreds.
The concept of nations was known to them
And today you can see it still,
As the bundle of arrows in the Eagle’s claw
On our country's dollar bills.
Their numbers greatly were reduced
By foreign plagues they couldn’t fight.
Then they got a bitter taste
Of the white man’s technical might.
Tribes died in droves as they fiercely strove
To hold on to their land,
But courage and pride could not decide
The battle for the doomed red man.
Exile or slaughter was their only choice
In this unequal test of wills,
Lush river camp and forest home
Became rocky barren hills.
Today they languish on reservations
Where life is often bleak,
But some do not accept despair
Their pride they vow to keep.
From a tortured past they have emerged,
And are proud to teach their young
Who they are and what it’s like
To speak their native tongue.
They haven’t lost all their history
Enough survives today
To see themselves as a people again,
And put their culture on display.
A nation healing and on the ascent
With reason to be proud,
As they don their dancing finery
And show it to the crowd
Then you should see them dance !
My stars it’s quite a sight,
When they start to whoop and holler
Your hair stands up in fright.
Yes the tribes are back and I am glad
We didn’t wipe them out,
These original Americans
Still have much to be proud about.
Las Vegas nights
Bright flashing lights
Guests arrive in droves
To visit gamble and let loose
Their private jets and stretch limos
Hollywood royalty on tour
Dressed for a neverending gala
The glamour and the pomp
Living it up at The Sahara
Exclusive parties in penthouse suites
Cocktail waitresses in skimpy outfits
Pouring lavish drinks as you desire
High on oxygen pumped through the air
A different era of glitz and glamour
Has less than everything really changed
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~RANDOM MUSINGS VOL.2~ 2020
AP: 1st place 2020, Honorable Mention 2020
Posted on February 19, 2020
Originally posted on January 20, 2020
Solomon wouldn't listen,
Though God suffered him for years.
He warned him and He warned him,
That his actions would bring tears.
Solomon's wealth and power,
Were known both far and wide,
And kings from other countries,
Brought their daughters for his brides;
But God said Solomon be wise,
Send them away from you;
For they are vile before My eyes,
And all their daughters too.
If you accept them in, My Son,
Their sins will be on you.
But Solomon paid The Lord no mind,
He welcomed those kings in;
Made pacts, alliances and deals,
Ignoring grievous sins,
Committed by these kings and queens,
Acts that God abhorred,
And took unto him concubines,
And wives before The Lord.
Women that God told him,
Were unclean before His eyes,
And that they'd bring their gods with them,
So strong would be their ties;
That Israel would follow them,
And he would fall from grace,
And that's just how it happened,
And Solomon lost face.
Seven hundred took he them,
And even their gods too.
He let them build their temples,
And went in with them too.
His heart was turned away from God,
By the company he kept.
He followed other gods with them,
And God, Himself, wept.
That's what's happening here today.
They're coming here in droves'
Fleeing from oppression,
That their way of life enclosed.
They say our God offends them,
And we shouldn't honor Him;
Well, their god offends me too,
So the same is just for them.
They wish to take away from us,
The very thing they seek,
Denying us our freedoms,
Our own laws have made us weak.
We are infidels to them,
And of little consequence.
They'll change our laws and change our God.
I say it don't make sense.
We'll fall from grace like Solomon.
Lose all that we hold dear.
Our freedom gone, we'll lose our land,
Then hide and quake in fear.
So it had come to this
Death, at a bullets hiss
Hot shrapnel from o'er head
More brave boys joined the dead.
Eager, so full of pride
On the barbed wire they died
In their droves young men fell
Damn the cause... war is hell.
Entry for
Alexandrine - Modified Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart
11/3/2020. Placed =1st.
The Poetry Contest
I'll tell you a tale, I'm sure you'll agree
It'll interest those who write poetry
A poets contest
To find one who's best
To go down in historic anthology.
For the contest a massive hall was found
Poets arrived in droves from miles around
Some flew in by plane
By boat others came
With great expectations of being crowned.
The first prize was a case of finest wine
Poets revised their work so they'd sound fine
Some went weak and freaked
Others loudly shrieked
All coveting the prize - juice of the vine.
First up was a Scot with the name of McNee
He'd supped too much beer 'cos it was cost free
Then his beer he spilt
Wind blew off his kilt
Thus his ‘endowment' the whole world could see.
Next came Pam, like a glam model she dressed
She breathed deeply and out popped her huge breast
With thunderous roar
Guys yelled out for more
With an eyewink she said 'I am the best'.
28th December 2020