Best Grizzled Poems
Thankless job, I think watching
as Thurman tries to teach the young man
The lad sitting up
on the tractor
like a proud young pup
is full of piss and vinegar
half the time not listening
and half the time telling Thurman
how much he already knows...
As Thurman patiently slumps
his still-sturdy but ungainly frame
against the tractor
fingers strumming his red suspenders
a good-natured grin
slowly spreading
across his grizzled face
gleaming behind think glasses
I see a glint of soft amusement
at this grandiose greenhorn
Thurman has lived through
the Great Depression, and then
the horror of hand-combat
in World War II
one of three from his unit
to make it through-
so there is nothing this little ingrate
can possibly do or say
to break Thurman's composure today
he remains uncommonly calm
and utterly unflappable
a small chuckle slipping out
every now and then
And while the young man boasts
and blusters on about
his plans for next week
Thurman is mostly quiet, until
at length, asked about his plans
“Lord willing-
and the creek don't rise...”
he begins, knowing how
much could change by then
He pulled up to the Triple "T" Ranch in a shiny Cadillac.
In his trailer was an Arabian steed with the finest tack.
He wore Tony Lama alligator boots and Calvin Klein jeans,
And a stylish Stetson hat - he looked like a man of means!
He strode to the corral where grizzled cowpokes lazed.
They chortled at the greenhorn, each of them amazed!
"Where's the boss?" he asked, "I'm seeking a position!"
"Over yonder" said they. (The boss eyed him with great suspicion!)
The boss sauntered over to see what the hullabaloo was all about.
"I'll handle this! You fellers git back to work!" he said with a shout!
He sized up the lad saying, "Son, I ain't impressed with them fancy labels!
But you're hired! Here's a shovel! Ya kin start by muckin' out them stables!"
Entry for Carolyn Devonshire's "Green Humor Rhymes" Contest
Clear the track, here comes Jack
Or Johnny Canuck to some
To a bunch of friends on Poetry Soup
He's that Wacko Jacko bum!
He's Canadian eh! From way up north
From the land of ice and snow
He eats bowls of nails for breakfast
Wearing manly lumberjack clothes
“Good day eh! How's it goin' eh?”
Are two of his favourite greets
As he polishes off his morning brew
With a slab of uncooked meat
He's a tough old dude, that's for sure
With mush instead of brains
A grizzled good natured son of a gun
With love running through his veins
He'd give you the shirt right off his back
But it's too damn cold up here
For fear of freezing his nipples off
Instead he's just say, “Wanna beer?”
Clear the track, here comes Jack
Or Johnny Canuck to some
To a bunch of friends on Poetry Soup
He's that Wacko Jacko bum!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Before the lovely heat of an old stove,
a recluse sat; outside, a whining wind
had now begun to bluster as it wove
itself among the trees. Undisciplined,
it ripped remaining leaves from every limb
which trembled helplessly along its path.
It twisted through the woods with wicked vim,
upturned soft, quiet snowfall in its wrath,
unfurled snow’s swirling flecks upon a pond
of porcelain nearby a little shack
wherein one warmed himself as morning dawned.
As wind blew on, the grizzled lumberjack
sat whistling to its icy tone. . . . steadfast.
The madness of December cannot last.
There was once an old man from Altoona
Who decided to cast for some tuna
'Twas a mermaid he landed
He sighed saying off-handed
"How I wish I had caught her much soona!"
Oh! How I would love to make her my bride
But I'm old, grizzled and gray and, beside
'Twould be my usual luck
She'd take up with some young buck,
So I will release her at next high tide
Entry for Tania Kitchin's "Two Sea Themed Limerick" Contest
(27 July 2019)
TOOK 3D PLACE IN THE CONTEST
I see you bent low
Your head in your hands
Tears dropping on the table cloth
The heavy sighs that no one can hear
Fill my ear
Even past the wall
Between eternity and finite time
I hear
I see
Your guardian angel is near
My orders from the throne
To protect you from harm
Physical….spiritual
To guard your steps
Yet...I see you have not walked
For many an hour
You have been glued to that spot
Unmoving
Only knowing that your universe
Is caving in
Forming a black hole
That is sucking in your soul
The decision is mine to make
I have no time to hesitate…
Overstep my bounds?
Or just hover and watch you drown?
The room fills with light
As I materialize
Hiding my wings
Not wanting to shock you
Not in your present state...
But you are too far gone to see
The gun on the table…ready
So, with one hand I touch your face
With the other under your grizzled chin
I make you look up at me….
Your eyes fill with wonder
You blink away the tears
Trying to focus
Trying to grasp the reality of me
Before you have time to question
I close my lips on yours
And breathe into your mouth
The eternal qualities of heaven
Peace, joy, love and light….
A lingering kiss of life
The moment where heaven and earth collide
And I unfold my wings and envelope you
In a cocoon of heavenly wonder
I enfold you
I feel your strength returning
I will not let you fall
I have heard the unspoken call
Of your bleeding heart…
And as you reach your arms around me…
In that moment…I’m gone
Clothing myself with invisibility
Yet…. just as near
Unseen to your mortal eyes
But as real
As the erratic beating of your heart
I hover near
You exhale slowly
Your breath is on my cheek
The light dims
And you open your eyes
Wondering what delirium
Has come over you
Yet there….there in your hand
A token of the encounter
A white feather
That glimmers in the night
Against orders….
I will stand before the throne
And try to find the words to explain
This strange act...
I could not keep back
I had to guard your life
In the only way I knew how
In that unearthly moment in time
I will find the grace to answer
My reward… the look in your eyes
The radiance of your face
The knowing smile that reveals
You are worthy enough
On a dark and hopeless night
To be kissed….
By the lips of an angel
A guardian angel of light
For Skat's Angel Contest
If you should hear him coming, fear his roar
His grizzled warnings, you should not ignore
A formidable champion is Ursus, a carnivore
His claws protects those he loves with vigour
He confidently stands on two powerful legs
to liberate the world from its deviant dregs
Quite beastly is his gnarly savoir-faire attitude
when in combat with the insolent and the rude
He'd prefer to live in harmony with c'est la vie,
thinking, That's life and what will be will be
But he will fight when needed... c'est la guerre
Off to war with courage, strides the Great Bear
With one arm held in check, he'll not be denied
the voice to rebuke those who abuse and deride
If blinded in one eye, he would never hold back
To defend those in need he would bravely attack
Sadly I am still here but you are gone,
so all things must pass my loyal friend -
true the proud breast filled and white coat shone
from youthful bedmate to old grizzled end.
I remember that day you followed me home
and wishful begged my heart that you stay,
but you belonged to a family of your own
until they gave you up and moved away.
I think of old times over hill and dale
and how fate or chance drew us together.
In my love for you in this a dog’s tale
you will, old friend, in my heart roam forever.
A scout, a hunter, and a rover cast -
the car chasing fool in outrageous youth,
yet in his lazy dotage I looked past
an endeared mischief too long in the tooth.
That you bettered me I do freely boast
and made less joyless this world unto me -
a playful spirit I remember most
and a tail and heart for dogwaggery.
I think of old times over hill and dale
and how fate or chance drew us together.
In my love for you in this a dog’s tale
you will, old friend, in my heart roam forever.
Written: May 1990
"People will forget what you said, forget what you did,
but will never forget how you made them feel."
~ Maya Angelou
I woke with twisted thoughts, coiling in my mind
like a trellised vine, weaving through my head
Gnarled bits of thread stitched me to my bed
and both my eyes were sewn shut til I was blind
I heard the sound of my notebook pages turning
by one whose mind was gnarled and full of hate
I could not see to stop him. I was much too late
to save my poetry. They'd been set afire, burning
A grizzled hand ripped the stitches from my eyes
A man with bony knees, bulbous nose, nubby toes,
said, "I am an ugly thorn, and you a beautiful rose."
He cursed at me with a snarl, "It's you I despise!"
Tears bled from the gnarly bloke. One fell on my cheek
I asked him to please free me from the tangled thread
He released me, and then I stood before him and said,
"When a rose needs protection, it's a thorn it will seek."
He stood to full height. The scorning frown disappeared
A smile curved his lips and he flexed each fingertip.
He shook my hand as if we'd just signed a partnership
His life had meaning, for he felt esteemed and revered
I visit them in silent repose,
their memories float on whispered breath.
Bringing the delight of days now gone,
I do not feel the sorrow of death.
Here I can still see his loving smile,
feel his spirit fill my heart again.
I see his eyes dance as laughter spills,
and tobacco stains his grizzled chin.
I’m with him once more in darkened woods,
as favored dogs run o’er creek and hill.
The taste of port wine upon our lips,
we’ll drink until we have had our fill.
I return to her comforting arms,
upon my brow I can feel her kiss.
I let all my troubles fade away,
to be replaced with a peaceful bliss.
They’re nothing more than two simple graves,
no different from any other.
But these two hold all the memories,
of my cherished father and mother.
My soul filled with pride and my eyes misted as the parade passed in review.
'Twas the annual hometown Veterans Day Parade that I was privileged to view.
Veterans, young and old marched behind the flag that they vowed to defend.
They sacrificed so much to uphold the liberties we enjoy in this land!
A Medal of Honor recipient served as Marshal for the parade.
Lively music provided by the local high school band was played.
An honor guard led the procession with Old Glory held high.
Old veterans along the street saluted with a proud tear in their eye!
There were survivors from the December 1941 Pearl Harbor Affair.
No doubt this day recalled memories of comrades who yet lie sleeping there.
Grizzled heroes of The Battle of the Bulge marched proudly with resolute stride.
Wearers of the Purple Heart rode aboard a float with heads held high with pride!
A company of Korean War vets marched representing the war in which they served.
Viet Nam vets received long overdue plaudits from the crowd they so well deserved.
Young men and women still on active duty, some barely out of their teens,
Represented the Army, Navy, Coast Guard, Air Force and United States Marines!
Those gnarled hands that once held the terrible weapons of war,
Now beckoned for peace that we shall know war no more.
The hardships they suffered for liberty's sake we shall never know.
So much, so very much to each of these brave men and women we owe!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Hank was a hard workin' cowpoke who really earned his meager pay.
He rode his ass Old Red from early dawn 'til at night he hit the hay,
Fixin' fences, ropin' steers and brandin' dogies in the old corral,
But he had an odd addiction that gnawed on his pard's morale!
He was a happy yodler which is alright fer a wrangler I suppose,
But his irritatin' warblin' caused him to nearly come to blows!
At night in the bunkhouse he would even yodel in his sleep,
Addin' to the din of his pals who were known fer snorin' deep!
His yodelin' caused cattle to stampede and hosses to buck and neigh.
Caused chickens to cease layin' aigs and cantankerous mules to bray!
Porkers squealed in their sty and the hounds barked and howled,
His comrades raged and cussed and the cats all hissed and yowled!
Even rattlesnakes were flustered and slithered to hide in dens,
And bands of coyotes skulked to seek cover in the nearby fens.
Frenzied birds vacated their cozy nests and fled to distant climes,
And Cookie got upset since the guys couldn't hear his supper chimes!
The grizzled old ranch boss called Hank aside fer a serious session,
Sayin', "Son, you're creatin' havoc 'round hyar with yer damn obsession!
Take yer ass and yodler to swoon the gals at the Dry Gulch Saloon,
'Cause if'n you keep it up 'round hyar, you'll hit the road and soon!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Forth he went upon the sea
grizzled and tough as he could be.
But when the old salt came to shore
he'd look for Jenny Lynn some more.
She was lost from him for years;
he'd shed a bucket of bitter tears.
Dreaming of the day they'd meet
the old man had a heart so sweet.
Someday he would find his daughter.
Till then he'd spend life on the water.
for "Sweet and Salty" contest
"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
Chewing garlic in the evening
helps a sore throat.
Garlic will not kill a rat.
The sun kills,
shining against the eye;
it is both enemy and friend.
There is enmity between
the sun and man.
Beams dance by the window sill
and sparkle like rain
against old wood.
The old man leaves the house
to visit the grave
of his late wife.
His grizzled hair and foul breath
blows like a trumpet.
He prays to the sun god,
but receives no answer,
only a bitter taste
of resignation.
A rat crosses his path like some demon.
He throws a front kick,
then totters,
tripping on a vine
as he moves along.
The vine is a snake of green and brown,
twisted, gnarled
like a calloused palm.
Soon he must head home.
It is evening and the day is dimming
like a short wick.
The old man is dim of mind and feeble.
His limbs carry many wounds
like thorns.
Surely sleep will restore his memory.
Surely he will find his way home.