Best Hauled Poems
One fine day I was fishing at sea
Two big blue whales swam up by me
They flicked their tails sent up a spray
All I could do was watch and pray
They kept flicking and sank my boat
I'm now in the water and here I float
If no one is around to save my life
Then a widow she'll be, my wife.
I'm not afraid of a big blue whale
I'll put a harpoon in its flickering tail
When seas get rough from a blowin' gale
Just pour me another swig of ale.
They kept flicking and sank my boat
I'm now in the water and here I float
If no one is around to save my life
Then a widow she'll be, my wife.
I'd cut my hand and the blood ran free
Three fins appeared ready for their tea
Then from nowhere I heard a shout
"Grab the rope we'll get you out".
They kept flicking and sank my boat
I'm now in the water and here I float
If no one is around to save my life
Then a widow she'll be, my wife.
They hauled me in and saved my neck
I was a soggy heap upon their deck
I was perished they gave me rum
Felt a warm glow in my tum.
They kept flicking and sank my boat
I'm now in the water and here I float
If no one is around to save my life
Then a widow she'll be, my wife.
The sails went up they made for shore
Made a vow to myself the sea no more
Now I'm a crofter working on dry land
And ne'er again see sea or sand.
They kept flicking and sank my boat
I'm now in the water and here I float
If no one is around to save my life
Then a widow she'll be, my wife.
After five months I was longing to be
Back in the boat fishing out at sea
A landlubbers life was not for me
On the water I was free.
They kept flicking and sank my boat
I'm now in the water and here I float
If no one is around to save my life
Then a widow she'll be, my wife.
The credit for the third verse goes to Jenna Logan.
Written 31st January 2021.
Poetry will not keep you warm
Not like a cat nestled between legs
But, it hunts down manic thoughts
Gnashes the static till the mind gives
Chases a thought till claws are bloody
Keeps you drenched in sweat
Yes, she mews for attention
Till its cries grate every nerve
Till I feed it words & want
Poetry keeps me squirming
Caught in a net skimming a deluge
Waiting for words to be hauled
The big catch ever escaping
Keeps me checking the line
Insisting I jump into cold waters
Foolishly like Ahab chasing a tail
Sadness is my white whale
Mad with promises holey
Poetry is a leaky bucket
Catching the rain of words
Within depression's storm
Coming like a cat with a pail
Impossible and torrential
Ensnaring me for an hour
Keeps me back for seconds
Promising an easy catch
Cold and slippery
Covered by cloud the out-of-sight tops of soaring towers,
Buckling under their own weight, beginning to topple from
Those airy heights;
The gaping breach - the once impregnable outer wall!
The inner keep ablaze with greedy, insatiable flame;
A thunderous cacophony of crashing cymbals and blaring
Horns;
Wide-eyed lurching panic desperately grasping at the fleeting
Moment...
And the whole World immersed into madness.
Hauled above the line of the high-water mark
The bleached, gnarly boards of the depleted Longships;
And when hurriedly stripped bare of brine-drenched hempen
Rope and torn white sail.
The golden sands burning with all the brilliant radiance of a
Million candle lights;
And below a shattered sky...an enormous, disintergrating Sun
Collapsing into a hissing sea!
And now you come to tell me that Agamemnon is dead.
Dead? Is that how you say it: "Great Agamemnon is...dead."
So..all is done then. But is one death nearly enough for the
Cruel and needless sacrifice of gentle Iphigenia?
Every remaining last God to be brought to this place...
Summoned together, here, today; and this in itself...
A dreadful thing.
For never can such be given up to us again.
They hung around the beer joint with the finest Western wear
with thumbs tucked in their belt loops and such a studly air.
But those boots weren't made for stirrups and were polished to a sheen,
and on those fancy cowboy hats not a sweat stain could be seen.
You could be sure they hadn't spent much time around a branding pot,
for the only brands they recognized were ones on stuff they bought.
And if they ever passed the time just musing 'bout their spread,
it'd be the one around their middle or the one they put on bread.
Just a bunch of cowboy wannabes in a modern masquerade,
but they drove the biggest pickup trucks that Detroit ever made.
The beds were big and beautiful without a scratch or scuff inside,
'cause the only thing they hauled around was a horse's big backside.
As they stood around outside the joint, in a smart-ass state of mind,
in pulled an ancient pickup with an old horse trailer hitched behind.
The truck an old green Chevy, year 'bout nineteen fifty-nine,
with two high wooden sideboards stacked with hay bales bound with twine.
Out stepped a skinny hombre, with steel-blue eyes and bandy legs,
but he had a rippling six-pack while all the boozers sported kegs.
His cowboy hat was sweat-stained; high-heeled boots were dusty gray;
he kicked off a chunk of cow pie, then he grabbed a bale of hay.
He was mighty parched and dusty, but he wouldn't quench his thirst
'cause you're not an honest cowboy unless you water horses first.
The pack of fools gave out a hoot, yelled "Hey there, Texas Pete!
Get yourself a man-sized truck and take that geezer off the street!"
As he finished with the horses, up walked two ladies smokin' hot.
The cowboy promptly doffed his hat, while the posers there did not.
The cowboy got a long admiring look and the rounders just a sneer,
as the sham was so apparent when a real cowboy was near
They flashed the dusty cowboy a big ol' smile 'bout ten miles wide...
Said "Honey, would a gent like you care to escort us gals inside?"
He winked, then gave the trucks a look and spat a stream of juice.
Said, "Boys, y'all's might be bigger, but mine gets a sight more use."
Here’s a bold tale it will have you in titters
It’s about poor Sheila who lost her knickers
She went for a cruise upon the great ocean
Fell in the water with the boats sudden motion.
She swallowed some water and began to cough
A big wave engulfed her and tore her knickers off
A passing gull dived and took them in its beak
Poor Sheila cried out, “Oh what a damn cheek”.
The fog horn sounded and the ship it slowed down
Everyone was worried that poor Sheila would drown
Someone said “It’s a shame for the poor young lass”
Sheila was more worried that they’d see her bare ass
A lifeboat was launched to rescue poor Sheila
But as she was hauled in they could see her posterior
Cameras were clicking aimed at her anatomy
Soon would be online for the entire world to see.
Always make sure your elastic is tight
Or like poor Sheila, lose them you might
Poor Sheila is still struggling to live it down
Still gets wolf whistled when she goes into town.
“I will not be cruising for quite a long while
I’ve bought some new knickers” she said with a smile.
On the side of a cliff there is a gull’s nest
That is lined with silk knickers of quality the best.
Written 25th March 2018.
Author: Joseph Osita
From the swamp
Haunts me the tears of my blood
Stripped of all hope-the soil to shelter
And banished to swim in oil-poisoned sea
Do they know
Ghost of revenge haunts the weeping soul?
From the swamp
All sorrow-veiled mourners gather
To unfold reaper's choice of the day
As muscles are crushed by soldiers’ bullet fury
Poised by Hobson's choice
Young men breed strength for crime
For ghost of revenge is haunting the weeping soul
From the swamp
Haunts me the stammering musket of angry souls
Where owners beg stealers the share of oil
And the dead man’s amnesty is of twilight solution
For ghost of revenge will forever haunt the weeping soul
On the oil rich people of Niger Delta who are given peanuts by Nigeria government, despite oil companies’ excessive spillage in the region.
The people hauled their anger against the government but were apprehended by Nigerian Army.
For Michael J Faloticho's 'Sounds of a cry'
contest
03/08/2011
I was sleepwalking down the street, when I stumbled over a stool
standing there. "Watch your feet", the stool yelled, offended. "I am
sorry, but I am sleepwalking, so I can't watch my feet. In fact, I can't
watch anything, I am dreaming", I replied. The stool then made me
fall flat on my face, and yelled hard. At that point the dog appeared,
utterly annoyed by the rude awakening. And he bit the stool hard
in one of its legs. All the noise apparently woke my neigbour, who
angrily threw down a bucket of water. The water hit me, the bucket
hit the street with an enormous ruckus. I woke up startled, ran after
the dog, but tripped over my pajama pants water-soaked and heavy.
I hit my head against the stool, and, dizzy, stayed down there,
heavily bleeding. The neighbour called 911, a little later a deafening
noise filled the street, the ambulance hauled me inside and drove
off again. The stool misses one leg, The bucket has a number of
dents extra, the dog sits shivering in an alley. The neighbour went
back to sleep. My front door is still unlocked, because in a state of
sleepwalking one doesn't remember to lock the lot and subsequently
bringing one's keys.
It was out in Venezuela when I ran into this sailor
He was sitting at the bar, right next to me
He was rugged he was mean and he wasn’t very clean
But I listened when he spoke about the sea
There were stories there were tales, of the hunt for killer whales
When his leg was bitten off below the knee
How en route to Senegal they were shipwrecked in squall
He survived for sixteen weeks, tied to a tree
Came the time in Kathmandu, him the captain and the crew
Were becalmed for seven days, and in a stew
So they hauled him up the mast, where they tied him good and fast
Then they fed him with baked beans, until he blew
After that there came the beast and the native king and priest
It was really getting far too much to bear
As the yarns grew more far fetched, with my patience sorely stretched
I decided that I really didn’t care
So I bought him one more rum and I said, “the time has come”
That I needed to go out, to use the loo
So he said “young man be fast, for you haven’t heard the last,
Like, when I first met your mother, in Peru
VAROOOM!! Listen to my honey purr.
Better to me than being wrapped in fur.
Come take a look at my 77' Corvette,
worth every penny tho' now I'm in debt.
She sits on a very sturdy C-2 chassis.
I love the way she makes me feel classy.
Brand new rims made of finest chrome,
staying clean, kept in my garage at home.
She gets attention from the opposite sex.
Here's my cute neighbor. "Hi there, Dex.
Take a look at what's under her hood."
"Whew," he whistled. "Sure lookin' good."
I didn't know if he meant the vette or me
with her 350 engine, I couldn't disagree.
Maybe it was her paint job he liked best,
Black Rose Metallic, he'd already guessed.
Dex told me he had one, an exact match.
I smiled knowing I'd hauled in my catch.
He asked if he could take us for a drive.
"Buckle up, Baby, I wanna keep you alive."
We slid across her seats of black leather,
Lookin' so fine, cruisin' 'round together.
My sweet vette was worth all the money.
Got Dex to notice me. Now he's my honey.
December 4th 2015
For Women Only~Car Contest
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer
A tall giraffe at our local zoo
Got neck ache, (as giraffes often do)
With his neck being so long
The pain was terribly strong
That he couldn’t reach the leaves to chew
The giraffe doctor was quickly called
At the condition he was appalled
He told the staff not to laugh -
Just get giraffe in the bath
So to the bath the giraffe was hauled
Well you can just imagine the sight
The poor staff the giraffe tried to bite!
They got him in the tub
Gave his neck a good rub
Then they tucked him in bed for the night
They were told they must keep his neck warm …
To this order the staff must conform
Staff decided to knit
A long scarf that would fit
It’s now part of giraffe’s uniform!
Animal Antics Contest
Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
09~05~16
N B The title will be amended after the contest to - 'You're having a Giraffe'
which in rhyming slang means you are having a laugh.
When you are in trouble
and start seeing double
you might as well have a good laugh
Cause sorrow and crying
and excessive sighing
can shorten your lifespan by half
If buried in debt
why brood in regret
when smiles are just what you need?
Don't worry or panic
no need to be manic
far better to chuckle, indeed
Has your tire lost air?
Don't give it a care
just change it and be on your way
If right after that
another goes flat
then dial up your triple A
If someone does hurt you
and then they desert you
just let it roll right off your back
Let out a guffaw
for there is no law
requiring you to attack
If hauled into court
then be a good sport
and burst forth in squeals of delight
They may think you mad
but you will be glad
as they drag you off into the night
No more bills to pay
nor dragons to slay
committed for standing the gaff
In your padded cell
your own private hell
you might as well have a good laugh
A din ensued
my imaginary brood
with a good dose of misapprehension
hauled out their toys
and with a deafening noise
held band practice to demand my attention
My head resounded
I was astounded
as my voices insisted space be freed
then took up position
for a spit competition
unless their demand I would heed
"Spit all you may
I refuse to be swayed
back to your cupboard, skeleton folk
all was well hitherto
with my self-made crew
till my head friends you chose to provoke."
"Dear host, you're unfeeling
to your good sense we're appealing
repeal the bones' non grata status
or your imaginary crew
will hold a coup
assisted by our posse comitatus."
"Skeletons and friends
your logic transcends
admittedly you've much courage and clout
I'll have to engage
with our very own sage
the inimitable Shadow of Doubt.
"After due consultation
and much deliberation
Shadow and I decision had reached
you may rant; you may rave
do the Mexican wave
yet still be punished for my rules you have breached.
"The imagineries and Hubbard
to inhabit the cupboard
access to my head is forever denied
you skeletons will hoard
keep my secrets well-stored
in my head where you henceforth will reside."
There's no happy ever after
my world is now dafter
cramped, the skeletons keep knotting their chains
with more space at hand
my imaginary band
multiplied. I'm now doubly insane
***************************************
(7/5 Trochee Poem)
Chicken Little, thinking that
sky was soon to fall,
saw a mortuary and
crawled beneath a pall.
He was in a strange dark box
where a dead man lay.
Then before he knew it, they
hauled that box away!
He was moved, but that poor bird
couldn’t get a look,
for they’d closed the wooden lid,
Chicken Little shook.
When the casket got dropped down
in the ground so deep,
Chicken Little, very scared,
still made not one peep!
He was sure the sky fell down
when he heard the dirt
being shoveled over him.
This was gonna hurt!
Nothing happened, but he could
barely take in air.
Am I dying? Little thought:
Is the sky still there?
No more would the animals
hear poor “Little’s” call
warning them of tragedy
if the sky should fall.
Chicken Little never guessed
he was murdered by
that same earth he‘d walked upon,
and not by the sky!
Moral: Fear can sometimes lead you into something far worse than you ever imagined, so be careful not to fear things too greatly!
An oldie for Joseph May's Fabled Musings Poetry Contest
Folks avoid that spooky place 'specially on dark and stormy nights!
Heard are eerie moans and shrieks and seen are mysterious lights!
A driftin' hoss thief by the unlikely name of One-Eyed Buck LaHore,
Was strung up on the 'hangin' tree' way back in '72, accordin' to local lore!
Now, ol' Jedge Stern, renowned as the 'hangin' jedge' in them there parts,
Owned the hoss that Buck stole, showin' no respect and lack of smarts!
Buck vanished in the night a-high-tailin' it fer the Mexican border,
Trailed by a posse to bring 'im back dead er alive upon the jedge's order!
He was found carousin' in an El Paso cantina havin' a grand ol' spree!
The sheriff said, "Son, come with me! You've got a date with the 'hangin' tree'!"
There was little Buck could do with a dozen forty-fours starin' 'im in the face!
"Boys, you got me! Don't make a scene! Let's git outta this here place!"
Hauled before the jedge, Buck admitted he'd been a hell-raiser all his life.
"But, jedge" he pled, "I didn't cause no harm like molestin' a feller's wife!"
Judge Stern saw things diff'runt 'specially since 'twas his hoss he stole!
"Son, you're to be strung up on a tree and may God save yer rotten soul!"
To this very day on moonlit nights Buck can be seen swingin' in the breeze,
Clawin' at the noose about his neck yellin', "Jedge, have mercy on me please!"
That stern ol' jedge has shown no mercy as is evident from all indications.
Alas, the ghost of that wily thief will haunt local folks for many generations!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
"God sends pets without wings so no one will suspect they are angels ..." Unkown
Pets are Angels in disguise
Endearing was my canine companion
There was no other pet in my life dearer than my dog
Seated close, sometimes he would curl up at my side.
Amiably he would lay his head in my lap and sleep,
Ready to wake up at the slightest sound,
Ever alert guarding our home from rodents and rowdies.
A wild roamer was my cute tawny dachshund.
Never was he in chains to be hauled like cattle.
Gave us company as we took our evening rounds.
Endearingly he would rub his body on our knees,
Licking our feet and arms in deep affection.
So full of mischief, playfully he capered and hopped.
I have never felt a love so deep to any other as to him.
Nor had a bereavement more intense than the one at his departure.
Death claimed him before we could anticipate.
Inseparable was he from our home and our children.
Speechless I stand when memories churn within
Grew up as a member of the family and an abiding companion.
Unable to break the bond, he clings to our hearts.
In haunting thoughts of him, we still get choked.
Sacred memories of him are forever enshrined within.
Eternal bliss and sweet rest be granted unto him!