Best Fer Poems
Poor ol' boy Richard Odekirk,
Just couldn't get fired and hasta work.
It's unfair that he'll miss the enjoyment,
Of his 96 weeks of Unemployment!
Just for Caties contest!!!
Grandpa and his kin gathered at the mill,
“It’s n’uther thanksgiving, y’all! Eat yer fill!
Hey cuzz Joe Bob, what’s the deal?
Whose turkey did y’all steal?”
What turkey? Y’all be chompin on road kill!
Yes siree y’all might have to chaw some,
But this barbequed swill be awesome!
Be a shame for it to waste,
So salt and pepper to taste,
And feast on some almost fresh possum!
Inspired by :
my poetry friend Carolyn Devonshire. : )
I set out lookin' fer some way to scribe,
that wer' a different, en catch yarn ear
Well first I'd try, 'ee hollerin' a rhyme,
with all CAPS, this only brought er tear,
This started me a thinkin' too look
elce-where, excep', per'aps this prose
isn't fer me, many have written 'ay book'
I'll need my style, somethin' too share
Sure fer this, they will laugh till they pee,
wouldn't it be a blessin', in this puddle
of tryin', findin' a style suited, right fer me
per'aps I'll be better off, an only doodle
keepin' this in mind, I started, I writ'
writ', en rewrit', like ne're before,
poundin' on my KeyPad, till all fingers,
akein' back, big butt twer'z bone sore,
So, If only I could catch er great line
if it wer' different, silly, too catch one's eye
I'd show 'em, too smile, durin' my life time
attain fame, per'aps, er piece of 'ee pie
Roses is red; a dollar are green.
Dough wuz the grandest thang Bubba'd done seen.
He had a bad wreck and ruptured his spleen.
His surgery wuz in a room that tweren't clean!
He paid Doc with roses, and Doc got real mean.
So Bubba sent dough--biscuits in a can.
Doc planned to whup him, but Bubba he ran.
Then he sent greens--the kind cooked in a pan.
Doc wanted green MONEY. He wuz one angry man!
********************
The sponsor done asked for a hillbilly pome,
so I writ these purty lines here at my home
up in these hills from whur I seldom roam.
April 19, 2018
Where Lud gave wing, Blessed Bran doth sing
true oracle the visions bring,
from midnight’s land, bear burning brand
the Queens of old, gift Druid hand.
Shadow depth seek, sharp sable beak,
pierce psyche veils when prophets speak,
messenger calls through ancient halls
where Raven reigns the Tower walls.
Fey healer fly, the night-world sky
initiate Ovates nigh,
beckoning deep, iconic keep,
hark Raven calls to dreamless sleep.
Where Lud gave wing Blessed Bran doth sing
true oracle the visions bring,
from midnight’s land, bear burning brand
the Queens of old gift Druid hand,
the Queens of old gift Druid hand.
When a man's on his own, he's just dat.
He's dis an he's dat … jus dis an dat … an dat's dat.
But now let a good woman enter his life
Let a good woman become his sweet wife
Now he's inspired from dis and dat to this and that and more than that.
From seat left up to seat put down
To clothes picked up 'stead of lying around
From paper cups and plastic spoons
To silver and china with roses and moons
Yes, a good woman transforms his dis and dat to this and that and more than that.
She's a smiling light by which he sees
Yesterday's socks still below his knees.
Her delicate nose, bright eyes and charms
Reminds him to fumigate under his arms.
A man is a man fer all dat, but with a good woman life's this and that.
He wipes his feet as he comes in the door.
"Don't track that sawdust - not on MY floor!"
He hangs up his coat on the back of da chair.
Oh! That's right ... that's wrong ... it doesn't go there!
Well, he hangs it up somewhere, just where I forget
Not on the floor, 'cause the floor is all wet
From the mud on the boots which by the door should be set.
I’ll be getting that look again, that's a safe bet!
But instead she brings warmly a cup of hot tea
With smiles and kisses and m-m-m-m-m … biscotti.
I know there's a lot more dat a “THAT" man should do
Lots of rules about tea time and stuff called "foo-foo".
Yes, a man is a man for all that.
With sawdust and leaves on his old woolen hat,
On his own he's content as an ol’ alley cat, scruffy and scraggly as dis an dat.
But with a good woman like I'm blessed to call mine,
His life starts to mellow like aging fine wine.
His mind starts to think and his heart starts to care
For the spirit-filled treasure who's his lady fair.
So he opens her door, he puts down the seat,
He eats with a fork after cutting the meat.
With napkin in lap and armpits like cedar,
He thinks of his life and how much it is sweeter
Than when he was only and lonely and sad
And says, “Aye! Dis new life ain’t really half bad!”
What's an Easter twofer?
Rose and Ted celebrate
Jesus first, then bunnies.
Bible story done, then
read the Sunday funnies.
What's an Easter twofer?
fancy hat Rose will wear,
new clothes, they go to church.
Mid-afternoon, a feast,
as candy eggs they search.
What's an Easter twofer?
Rose's hat serves her well;
morning - it warms her head.
Better, this afternoon
hides her goodies from Ted.
April 19, 2022
Sponsor Andrea Dietrich
Contest Name ALL APRIL in MONCHIELLE
Theme: Anything to do with Easter
The Free Dictionary defines "twofer" as an offer or arrangement in which a single expense or amount of effort produces two returns.
"Howard woncha say a few wurds?
Cum on Howard like over tha bird."
Says Aunt Jen visitin' fer the holeeday.
Weuns are seated tha eight of us at this here sumpchus dinner table,
Lookin' at the damndest big brown poultry ya iver seen.
Howard ma Dad is jist liftin' a forkful a meat drippin' gravy an dressin'.
Tha rest of us heseetate not knowin' what's a cumin.'
Our familee niver did give no thanks fer nuthin'.
Now dad lays down the heepin fork careful like chokes then beegins -
"Weeeellll Lord I chased ol' Mahitabel all roun' tha yard.
She knew what was a cumin' an' diseepeered inta the rushes by tha pond.
Couldn't see her nohow but put a barrel-full inta the weeds anyways
Heered this here squawk!
Looked all through tha stalks fer old Mahitabel,
Niver found her
But! Lord we do now thank ye most bounteefullee fer this here swan.
A men"
A properly equipped cowpoke is bound to impress the boss.
He'll need a mount of course and a silver-studded saddle fer his hoss.
He'll need some chaps to protect his jeans frum them pesky burrs,
And his outfit wouldn't be complete without a fancy pair of spurs!
A wide-brimmed Stetson is needed fer shelter frum the searin' sun.
It's also dandy fer feedin' oats to his hoss when their work is done.
He'll need a pair of Tony Lama boots with high heels and pointy toes,
And a bandana to keep the dust and bugs from a-pluggin' up his nose!
When on night patrol and the restless herd is spooked by lightnin' bright,
A harmonica is a handy gadget to soothe the herd frum takin' flight.
A coiled riata he'll need to corral them stampedin' wild cows.
He'll wear a pair of 44s to shoot rattlesnakes (if'n the boss allows)!
He'll need a couple of blankets fer sleepin' 'neath the canopy of stars,
And bags of Bull Durham fer roll-yer-owns and maybe a few cigars.
He'll need a heap of patience when gallopin' through the chaparral,
Roundin' up them frenzied dogies fer brandin' in the old corral!
He'll be a-chasin' cattle and a-fixin' fences thro' rain, sleet and snow.
He wonders sometimes why he cowboys - it sure ain't fer the dough!
He'll need lots of fortitude to abide "Cooky's" taters, bacon and beans,
But he'll keep at it 'til he's old and gray, 'cause cowboyin' is in his genes!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Placed No. 10 in Giddy up! Little Dogies! Contest May 2010
Each line is composed of two Anapaest metres and a final Spondee metre.
Come to me and put thine sweet eyes
on this note that thus came, e’en tries
to put slander within my mind
of the old and bad trite stale kind.
What false lines do impinge thy name
for such claims do, love, make thee blame
in the splitting of so great pair,
the well known Lord and Lady Blare.
Such words I will not yea believe
since without gens how they deceive.
The hot fire of this flame’s flambeau
will burn scurrilous page I know.
Then with glaive on this pole I’ll take
their head clean off for they name’s sake.
Built somewhere between 1887 and 1889
she became a spot
for lovers
who overlook the city
in amazement at the Seine
as it flows lazily through the bustling city
of narrow roadways
and glimmering lights
She rises from the ground
this immense metal structure that
speaks of man's ingenuity and imagination
coddling
those individuals who desire in their hearts to become one-
she is inspiration
both to civilians and those of artistic bent
lending her spirit
to the brush of an artist in pigment
oh my she is beautiful
as she graces the skies sublime
towering over any other building
she is truly so fine.
Let her rip, and take a dip in varied a color of blood
Special swindling snake they be, dancin in the mud
Watch yer backside though for when they go lancin
While yer back is turned and fancied for a strike
All the gold in the world you'll give for a pike
Demon eyes glaring beneath the leafs
If he sees ya now, trust me it'll be brief
He got the features of a shadow, just alike
So I warn ya not ta step o'er that hill my friend
He's waiting for ya, ole spear head, dead end
Then he got yer toe, so now that ya know
Fer De Lance come and took ya below
Can't believe how youse guys rallied around
When I said I was feeling a bit down
I'm blown away by your unbelievable friendship
You're the sweetest bunch of people around
Poets all seem to be warm and sensitive
Guess it's because we write about love
Reminding us about the true meaning of life
Tends to give our hearts a wee shove
I'm eternally grateful for the love you send me
Without it my days would just drag
With it, my days literally bounce along
If I had a tail, it would incessantly wag!
So all you sweet people, just want you to know
Love you all a whole great big bunch
I've never ever known so many sweet souls
Whatcha all doin' fer lunch?
© Jack Ellison 2013
Highbrow Singing Ain’t Fer Me
By Elton Camp
I heerd some guy’s the best singer who’s ever been
So I went t’ the theater and paid a bunch t’ git in
This ugly man come on the stage dressed t’ kill
The audience clapped so it must’ve gave ‘em a thrill
He started to breathe way down deep in his chest
For sure, he wasn’t using his ribs like all of the rest
Then he throwed his head back and belted hit out
But not in a normal voice there weren’t no doubt
But it weren’t no song that I ever heered before
And I shore don’t care if I never heer hit no more
A whole bunch more he sung and they’d clap
I didn’t and wished he would just shut his yap
When he finished they stood and clapped fer more
But I slipped out and made a quick dart fer th’ door
Seemed t’ me he wuz a whole bunch over rated
Next singing I want t’ heer is when Dolly is slated
'Twas a cold cold day o'tune,
Fer those pickers down in Boone.
Fiddles brought so had they'd ought,
Newest feathers just store bought,
'Twas a cold cold day a'tune.
Fer those pickers down in Boone,
That wind she whistled well.
A'high up steeple rung that bell,
As sun did set upon those met,
'Twas a cold cold day a'tune.
Those fiddles danced as songs were sung,
Among those there abandon flung.
On a cold cold day a'tune,
Fer those pickers down in Boone.
Oh now banshee wailed her greatest plea,
On that cold cold day a'tune.
While nighthawk sailed his flight o'free,
Fer those pickers down in Boone.
SeaWolf
©