Best Foppish Poems
"Hyar she comes! The weekly stagecoach is a-comin' to old Santa Fe!"
The driver cracked his whip and blowed his klaxon to herald the way!
The weekly arrival of the stagecoach was cause fer raucous celebration!
The town's ne'er-do-wells found another excuse fer excess inebriation!
The excited citizens one and all awaited its arrival with bated breath,
To see and greet the motley rogues brought to town by the driver, Seth!
Seth descended from his perch midst snarlin' curs and guttersnipes,
Gun-totin' hangers-on, genteel ladies, the sheriff and other sundry types.
Grizzled Seth cut loose a stream of cussin' and in a furious rage,
Yelled, "You'uns clear the way and let them people git off'n the stage!"
His bedraggled passengers set foot on the dusty streets of old Santa Fe,
Happy to be relieved of the stagecoach's nauseous lurch and sway!
The Baptist Ladies Guild gasped when down stepped a lady of the night,
But she was greeted by the fellers of Buster's Saloon with a cry of delight!
Next was a feller all dressed in black scannin' the crowd with a gloomy glower.
He was a preacher-man causin' fellers from Buster's Saloon to cringe and cower!
A steely-eyed dude with 44s on his hips viewed the mob with condescension,
But his shifty manner put the sheriff on alert and merited his attention!
Down stepped a foppish dandy wearin' diamonds and dressed in fine attire.
He was a gamblin' man aimin' to see how much town capital he might acquire!
Seth hollered, "All aboard! I gotta git to Albuquerq' by six tonight!"
He whipped his steeds to a gallop and soon old Santa Fe was outta sight!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Categories:
foppish, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Every time I read Pessoa I think
I'm better than he is
Salutations to Fernando Pessoa-Alan Ginsberg
Me, the monocled one, with my foppish belted waistcoat,
I'm not unworthy of you, Walt,
I'm not unworthy of you, my saluting you proves it . . .
Salute to Walt Whitman- Fernando Pessoa
Here from a place in my heart, I salute you,
Female as I am, and unknown,
Should I be praising Emily, Plath or Achmatova?
But you started it Pessoa! with your Alvaro comparing himself
to Whitman, not content to admit to a greatness of your own
and now I find dear Mr. Ginsberg confessing to his greatness in
epic manner, name dropping from Socrates to Michelangelo
admitting faults in the same breath-tracking his enlightenment
and if it was written tongue in cheek, I missed it.
How I admire the great poets that wade into the mainstream
appearing where the greatest wrongs appear, risking even
death for their beliefs, celebrated by those who embrace their
point of view, but what of the unknown poets in the world;
so many whose work is equally astounding, yet unexposed.
Musings on every subject known to man, set down in metaphor
and rhyme makes me wonder what brings immortal recognition
Is it from making a devoted study or from mixing in the right circles?
The hallowed halls of academia or is it some -one's tiny jounal
of handwritten poems waiting for discovery, the enlightenment
of the next century?
Poets, don't often, answer to their fame - writing what's inside of them
for those to come.
Thursday, 06 September, 2001
I wrote this poem one morning (Thursday, 06 September, 2001)after I had read a poem by Alan Ginsberg in the 1995 edition of The Best American Poetry.
I had never seen the poem he referred to "Salute to Whitman"by Fernando Pessoa
and today when I found it on the web Friday, March 01, 2002, I was suprised to see how similar our opening lines were.
Here are current links to the poems mentioned
https://issuu.com/hbarbas/docs/1997_salutations_to_pessoa_ginsberg_h_barbas
https://modpo2015.wordpress.com/poems-of-note/fernando-pessoa-alvaro-de-campos-salute-to-walt-whitman/
Categories:
foppish, appreciation, poetry, tribute, word
Form:
Free verse
Surrounded now by wreathes and satin sheets
awash in tears like crystal coursing down
your ivory visage stirs thoughts of Keats,
the onyx black of ringlets 'bout your brow
amen, but that was then, and this is now.
Tonight in forget-me-nots, you'll be crowned
with all the foppish roses thrown to ground.
Forget me now, adorned in widow's weeds
an angry form forlorn for you have gone;
recall me when your touch filled me with need
amongst blue flowers in a summer's field
as first love bloomed and passion was its yield.
Small tokens, these, the blue forget-me-not
to anchor you to me upon that spot.
And, when I close my eyes in daily prayer
an image comes of life and loving days;
smiling, but blue, I'll dream and you'll be there;
touching my cheeks, kissing my eyes ablaze,
and death's cold hand will vanish in the haze.
In ecstasy not angst will we sojourn
as from the gates of heaven you look on.
Categories:
foppish, death, eulogy, funeral, lost
Form:
Rhyme Royal
Wear no long face
When storms rage in your space
Flying and crying you out of place
If you do
Like a cow you’ll moo
Shooting and hooting at the crew
You claim to train
With foibles you can’t restrain
With lower standards you strain
In muscles, corpuscles and bustles
Indulging in hustles
Egging you to tussles
You hardly believe worthwhile
Embracing a foppish lifestyle
As you claim to care for the poor for a while
Sneaking a surprise or a dose of gloom
When for the sake of the lake of doom
You elevate and fete misfortune in the room
That denies you peace of mind
When pride drives you blind
To become and grow unkind
Until an invisible hand
Teaches you to take an accommodating stand
In circumstances denying your pride the grandstand
That sinks the last nail
To administer a master class manicure the fingernail
Shining and gliding far better than the snail
You’d rather blessed and caressed humility
Stretching and fetching from your life adaptability
As you strive to promote amiability and its agility.
Categories:
foppish, poems,
Form:
Free verse
Today’s poem is a juicy pork chop
The next one that skates by is a foppish cod fish
Each delicacy and dessert separate in their own way
Living their own truths.
Yesterday’s poems were chocked with
Faeries and dainty crisp white daisies
I have less control of this than of myself
They prance to their own harps
All I know is if I do not capture it
When it flits by in its gliding pretty pattern
it has no motivation to return.
I have yet to retrieve a wild missive
Which I neglected to pay attention to yesterday
Categories:
foppish, poems, poetess, poetry, poets,
Form:
Free verse
Fruitful faeries flying freshly frightenly faraway
Flashing flea-bitten furry fireflies fantasy fey,
Faux flash-dancing flowery figs flowing flippantly free,
Ferocious fierce foursome fruit-flies flying fantasy’s flea.
Fast-fingered flicker formidably frugally fit flexible.
Frosting frilly flounder’s fluorescent fetish fully fixable.
Fanciful freckled fathomably frosted filly fibs flitting,
Fashionable forcefully fanatical farmhand fuzzily fretting.
Fun-loving, flippant foolhardy fivefold finger’s foghorn.
Fooled fellow’s fervent fleecy foppish fire fuzzily forlorn.
Fantastical fanged frolicking fishy fuzzy fickle frills.
Fixes froggy’s fanciful fanned fox figs from freezing Frankfort.
Categories:
foppish, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Alliteration
Drown not in yummy yesterdays, seize the breeze of today
While intuitive initiatives aplenty beg to be taken
Into your stride if only ears and eyes should every Saturday
Strive to debunk myths of dependency on mistaken
Opinions on dominions of double tongues that drag
A train of ambiguity in an ambience meant to weaken
The resolution wrapped in rapid reflections to brag
Flagging fortunes, sagging sagacity and overt
Vanity and inanity driven beyond conjecture to mug
Denial of pain, create a drought from a flood to assert
Infatuation in a situation where habituation lives
In cycles of woes and wonders interwoven to insert
A full stop at the commencement of a move that gives
Death to joy, fill moments with frowns that down
The motive to live, elevate the motive that forgives
Risible reasons why we play the corny clown
Defend duplicity, caress cash and crash a crown
On limbs of love, cut off our noses, bruise faith
Feel foppish and seal deals that steal our last breath.
Categories:
foppish, poems,
Form:
Terzanelle
...or Yipes! Stripes!
The zebra lives in Africa
On the plains of the Serengeti.
Though often foppish and vain,
He doesn't complain
'bout his place in the alphabet.
He leads a fairly innocuous life
With few, very minor, distractions,
And when tourists come to "ooh" and "aah",
He's one of the major attractions.
There is one vexing question, though,
That keeps him up at night:
Those stripes of his, are they white on black,
Or are they black on white?
Categories:
foppish, animal, humor,
Form:
Light Verse
Thirst for shadow in the scorching summer
Ripe palm fruit calling new foppish eater
Crows flying and sitting,
Making nest in twig's bin
Passing by this tree, bald man in full fear!
-May 15, 2019 Chattogram
////palm = Asian Palmyra palm fruit////
Categories:
foppish, fun,
Form:
Limerick
Me for you, your foppish dandy,
And me to listen, as you talk.
But I do doubt, I’ll be handy,
Even to take you, for a walk.
Why love for me, you say you’ll give,
But mine for you, is still wary.
And I’ve learned, that love is to live,
Yet live I won’t, for ‘tis scary.
Even now you don’t understand.
How I could leave with an empty hand.
Categories:
foppish, feelings, life, nonsense, simple,
Form:
Rhyme
Come the foppish, come the fine.
Come the fancy drinking wine.
Come the lowly, come the poor.
Come the beggars beg for more.
Come the crooks, come the thieves.
Come the lurkers under eves.
Come the kings, come the queens.
Come the royal finer beings.
Come them one, come them all.
Come the masses held in thrall.
Come to the circus, the young and old.
Come to enjoy since time untold.
Come the dogs, come the cats.
Come the high flying acrobats.
Come the jokers, come the clowns.
Come the painted smiles and frowns.
Come the strange, come the freaks.
Come the things which no one speaks.
Come the daring, come the brave.
Come the feats the people crave.
Come them large, come them small.
Come the performers one and all.
Come to the circus, the women and men.
Come to amaze time and again.
Categories:
foppish, family, imagination, nostalgia, people,
Form:
A summer’s morn, dark skies, forlorn.
Burning, smoking, California cities, this August morn,
Our state with illegal, infected people overrun.
We think the virus is just plain fun?
Mad as a hatter, Governor Newsom calls now
for Afghan refugees?
And what.......to live in beauteous tent cities. where
crime lurks.....what a pity!
Hope Californians recall this madman and foppish
immoral jerk!
With greaseball hair and his insidious,eternal
brainless, eternal smirk!
8/18/2021
10am PST
Categories:
foppish, feelings,
Form:
Rhyme
I forgot I belonged to God.
He is my only Master, not worldly
foppish clowns.
My allegiance, to no human is owed.
Just to Him, who gave me life and an
eternal soul.
Can people harm me, oh yes, indeed.
But I can overcome anything with heed.
Do not kiss feet of humanity, they are
not gods.
Yet you continue to adore, cynical, vicious clods.
The human body by him was made.
Not by humans, lying in the shade.
He chose you to beautify this earth.
With His words,not being avoided in
your verse.
The human body deserves respect!
On Hollywood's list or Netflix, of this,
They reject?
Times can be sane again!
If you do not support them..I ask each
of you, when?
Vindictiveness, in blogs here do fly.
Arrogance, darkening poetic skies.
We can be better than this.
Uplifting others, instead of killing them
with words by our poetic wrists.
1/14/2021
~6-
Categories:
foppish, god,
Form:
Rhyme
Nectared graces overwhelming must
Underline your pulse-halting charms;
Utopian opal spelt by honeyed terms,
Resistless pearl cased in mortal dust.
Fair-miened nymphs kings did melt;
But such sly vixens, like old Phoenix
Acing artful Death's ambrosial tricks,
Would find your rig a conundrum yet.
Dead fancy's fairy in gowns of wool,
Would vote this trim flawless figure
Finer than fiction's gildings meager;
Nature’s art unsullied by apish tool.
Nor would pageant-lauded beauties,
Though posh their foppish styles be;
With roses laureled in limitless glee,
Dim this time's own queen of cuties.
Where lurks this sure paragon high,
Beauty-capped acme of poets' tales;
Yet glamorous and unbeaten in vales
Of breath and death where jewels lie?
Categories:
foppish, 11th grade, 12th grade,
Form:
Rhyme
in love
the foamy wave kisses
the wide breast of beach
for the wave of extreme youth,
ravenous crow is a beauty
for the rainy season
rivers walk showing her virginity
a lie is a truthful message
if the liar has sovereign power
ignorant is a wise man
if he has money and power of govt.
foppish writer I'm the wonderful
in the scarcity of wisdom
in me
hardship begets the ease
true hate begets the love
love is the name of change the self
true love is the knowledge of self
-December 01,2019 Chattogram
Categories:
foppish, introspection, love, self,
Form:
Free verse