Best Hock Poems
The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.
Well, of course,
It was pretty hard when you refused to go to the funeral after my Father died,
And I’d hate for this relationship to end in a lie, so…
The second hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.
But, to come to think of it,
It was probably harder when I had to give Skippy away.
You know, when you made us move to Florida because you hated the cold,
I’ll never forget that day.
The third hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.
Well, not quite as hard as it was when I had that little operation,
And you decided still to take your vacation,
And left me alone in the hospital with no visitation.
That was hard.
The fourth hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.
You know, I did take it pretty hard when I proposed to you
And you said if I couldn’t buy you a bigger ring we’d be through
And I had to sell my car and hock my guitar
To get you a ring as big as a star.
That was pretty hard.
The fifth hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.
Well darn it, no!
It was hard going to school at nights and working all day
Because you didn’t want to get a job and wanted me to earn more pay.
What exactly did you do with yourself all day!?
The sixth hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.
No, its time to admit it,
I saw you with Tom that night,
And Bob the time before that,
And Tim and George, Harry and Frank.
That was hard on me and I’ve got you to thank.
The seventh hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.
Now just wait a minute!
This is not hard.
In fact this is rather easy.
The hard part was living with you,
Placating you,
Pretending to love you,
Pretending that you loved me,
Heck, this is easy!
The easiest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you!
Boy that was easy!
Now I feel much better.
The Anatomy of a Horse (written for children)
Horse's feet have a hoof, the hard part which he can pound,
back of this is his frog, bottom part that stays off the ground.
Between his hoof and his leg is a coronet, not like a crown
it blends into the pastern the start of his leg, now don’t frown.
Next is his fetlock, sort of an ankle, not a real lock.
Horse's rear ankle turns backwards and that it is called his hock.
His fetlock has a callous called an ergot, can you see?
Then comes his harmless cannon, just below his hock or knee.
On the front leg, it's a knee between forearm and cannon
His hind leg has a hock which joins gaskin to his cannon.
His elbow in the front and his stifle in the back, no fibs,
connect his upper legs to his barrel which is our horse's ribs.
Topside of the barrel, where a rider sits, twixt tail and head,
highest part of horse's rump is called a croup instead.
The dock is the soft part from which grows his tail, what the heck;
above his high shoulders are withers, right beneath his neck.
Behind his ears is a part called his poll, close to his brain?
From his poll, hair makes a forelock, back down his neck, a mane.
We’ve finally reached his head and the last part, called his muzzle,
his jaw, his nose and mouth. A horse can be quite a puzzle.
written October 28, 2016 for Shadow's contest, Horses
My uncle Dran was an odd sorta man
who never much cared for livestock.
But wouldn't you know he kept a pig he loved so,
and named the fat thing, Ham hock.
Of little he cared but for the pig's dinner fare
and a desire to keep him from block.
No butcher you'd see would stand a chance or a plea,
to separate Dran and Ham hock.
One day on a walk came a squeal and a squawk
as they passed a farmland flock.
As a sow named Bacon took to squalling and chasing,
to the delight of old Ham Hock.
Bacon was bought after a hard bargain fought,
she was Dran's hog for the takin.
And never could one part, the sow and the old fart,
know as Ham Hock and Bacon.
To this day down the lane, if you travel again.
there's a legend for books in the makin.
For the piglets o' plenty, of the pigs, Dran has many,
cause he won't eat Ham hock or Bacon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pink Domino Contest
Sponsored by: Sara Kendrick
7/29/2016
Placed 10th
A horse that runs wild and free
Enjoys freedom with each stride
No saddle on his withers be
No grazing muzzle as a guide
No headpiece on his poll abides
His fetlock and his coronet feel the tickle of the grass
As his forelock ruffles in the breeze
No horseshoe on his hoof amass
With the wind he trots with ease
His gaskin flexes to run at his decree
His frog feels the soft earth as he stands
his coat feels the soothing rain
Unbridled by the bit's demand
His neighs echo through the plains
Upon these green fields, he reigns
His stifle and his hock aches once in awhile
But a good gallop 'neath the dome
of sky, brings him back in form and style
No crupper on his croup as he roams
For this horse calls freedom home.
~~~
10/4/16
*The crupper is the strap that runs from the horse's dock, over the croup, to the saddle.
Carolyn Devonshire
Sunny day golden locks
Friends till the end or in hock
Cheery jewels and holly socks
Entertain us with your verse
Until they take us away in a hearse
Poetess the mostest and a lovely hostess
Holiday with a snowflake princess
Thank you for my lovely cheering wishes
Surprised me into a better day!!
Her tiny strands of forelock were as soft as silk,
resting gently between her poll and soft ears-
Her muzzle slightly wet as it began to wilt
For she was saddened and brought to tears.
She had been racing and fell hurting her back hock,
pulled the stifle muscle falling on her croup-
She already had a previous injury in her left fetlock,
now she was separated from her racing group.
You should see her withers on the bottom of her mane,
so strong and robust while she ran in the field-
She had such class, always winning almost every game,
but she also had a problem when it was time to yield.
See, she was born with Quiltor, an infection in the lower leg,
if drastically affected her frog just underside her left hoof-
Her leg would get tired and to her gaskin it had spread,
she was still determined to race, but at times very aloof.
Her coronet was meant for balance and steadiness,
and in her final race you could tell she was prepared-
she was excited and filled with eager readiness,
although she had some ailments, she was never scared.
Words Used: 1. muzzle 2. forelock 3. fetlock 4. hock
5. withers 6. stifle 7. poll 8. croup 9. gaskin 10. frog
11. hoof 12. coronet.
Horse Contest
Shadow Hamilton
October 28, 2016
Being Sold Down the River?
Near 80 years ago it has been
Another Jerk wanted to make his country great again
America first has been used before
It was a commie ploy to keep the U.S. out of the War
Over 6 million Jews were gassed or shot
Who’s going to end up in his burial plot?
Both started out with the same trend
Replace everyone with family and friend
They will do and say anything for power
This one wants to rule from his Ivory Tower
Don’t worry about fighting with the NRA
He will make sure there’s nothing to take away
We are being sold out by being in his trance
Wakeup or learn that funny little Russian dance
Take your money and buy Vodka stock
That way you might not be in hock
Learn to speak Russian and don’t fail
For I hear its cold in a Siberian jail
Keep your mouth shut and speak not
If you speak out, you could be shot
Elections will be no more
It doesn’t matter who you vote for.
2/28/2018
By: Sonny Roper a retired U.S. Navy military veteran
and moi (me)
Dear younger me,
There are some things that I would say
to help you out along the way:
mistakes I’ve made and deep regrets,
things I would change you’ve not seen yet.
Dear older me,
All that seems nice,
but let’s hold back on that advice.
It may be true,
but I’m not sure you’ve thought this through.
Dear younger me,
Are you for real? Surely you jest!
I’ve had more time, and I know best.
The cost was dear: real sweat and blood.
Why would you choose to traipse the mud?
Dear older me,
Wake up somehow!
I’m worried ‘bout my future now.
I’ve played this game to some degree;
did not see you in future me.
Dear younger me,
But I could share: go buy this stock,
lay off the booze, don’t go in hock.
Just stop and think of where you’d be;
The best part is, the lesson’s free.
Dear older me,
Great multiverse!
The situation’s getting worse!
Just hold your tongue and say no more
or I am headed out the door.
My future is not yours to share;
the way is fraught with danger there.
Dear younger me,
Now I’m confused; help an old man.
Explain this out; that’s if you can.
Dear older me,
I’ll do my best, but just so far,
for I’ll not go past where you are,
for much of what I know as true
might change if I change future you.
You hope to spare my heart the ache
and help me choose the path to take.
The problem is, when I arrive,
what you call you won’t be alive.
Decisions made all shape and mold
the man we are when we grow old.
Just think, if we had stayed in school
and not become a drunken fool,
would we have ever reached wit’s end
and learned the broken also mend?
Would we have met our lovely wife,
and settled in your present life?
Dear younger me,
Gouge out my eyes!
I’m blind and dumb and you are wise.
I had my doubt, but I can say
Let go, let God, we’ll be okay.
Beggars of California
With their tattoos and their piercings, I don’t give money to beggars in California. Up on the Haight with his honey, not really in need, this beggar of California.
At least in New York you get some song and dance, perhaps the tickle of a tenor sax ?and they’re out in the rain, not just when it’s sunny, like those beggars in California.
Near my apartment in Pacific Heights, know them by name. It’s funny; frown when they see me: two brothers, one on either side of the street, these yuppie beggars of California.
I offered to pay the pawn on Runny Nose’s instruments out of hock, but his sign was a true ploy. Another’s sign: “Sailor needs a ship”; it’s war time!? Beggar of California!
I offered one a berth and a meal of tunny. I still see him, but he begs no more.
I think he’s on the dole with a cot. His words were foggy, this beggar of California.
I begged Jackie Paper, since the eighth grade: run for California, head west young man.Education was free. Was I cunning or just another beggar in California?
My life seems to last forever now that I’ve start aging
The sudden onset aches and pains start engaging
My home is in a theme park petting zoo where other animals live and rest
Each day zoo attendants feed, water, and groom us to look our best for our guests
These little creatures called Children come into the petting zoo
With the sounds of ooohs, aaahs of surprise as they walk through
Sheep, goats, rabbits, to feed and interact physically with safety
Some of these little creatures try to chase me, some of us get shaky
A tall creature with a long mane and forelock yells, “Wait a minute baby!”
Is this tall creature going to save me?
A young pony, a true friend is 7 hands at the wither not as tall as me
Wearing a blanket and saddle for a rider to sit, and bridle to guide in safety
Zoo attendants teach the proper ways to handle animals
while brushing my forelock, poll, croup, and withers
They lift my gaskin the area behind my leg between the stifle and hock pointing to my fetlock explaining that is actually more like the ball of the foot on a human
Naming my coronet where it meets my hoof down to my frog; a highly elastic wedge-shaped mass on the underside of the hoof and supports both locomotion and circulation
When all is done the attendant extending a hand placing a treat close to my muzzle treating us with love and kindness, as we bubble full of admiration
10/20/2016
Horses - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Shadow Hamilton
use the following words
Muzzle, forelock, fetlock, hock, withers, stifle, poll, croup, gaskin, frog, hoof and coronet.
Gonna take my comb outa my pocket,
May as well kiss it goodby and hock it.
This is much less trying,
although close to frying.
Just stick my tongue in the light socket.
Limerick crochetés: Portrait of a Dead Brit Nazi, Lord of the Lollypoppians
Part One
Once an uppity man from Poland
Wed a stumpy wench from High Golan
Result: mangy mongrel
Was no way you could tell
His front from his toady tail-end
In Broughton raised as Mancunian
For his stature was Lilliputian
Sent up to hot Eton
To become smooth Briton
Of hoi polloi he nursed low opinion
There at the clubby institution
Three thorough-breds of noble distinction
Chased him in quadrangle
Stuck dildos up sockle
In his hock-filled mouth sans elocution
Lacking shining past in his pedigree
Made him mug up facts in history
Shot up into Oxford
Father grandeur afford
Marks and shillings through frilly lingérie
At New College what spoke most was money
Free drinks all around and clothes so horney
So things ran with his ilk
Reeking of mothers’ milk
Ere going down he rode high and pretty
Once down he was not down and out either
With free hand in till of his step-mother
In book trade old mongrel
The art of the scoundrel
He made much of his blithering litter
Dreamed day and night of the House of Lords
To rub knees with the Chancellor of Boards
Stuffed Labour coffers cash
Stood for Commons: whiplash
Injury by hoi polloi on records
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
I'll be happy to be a leprechaun
That silly green hat will be worn.
If ye share yer pot of gold with me
A leprechaun I'll be happy to be.
I'll buy ye a pint of the black stuff
More if that's not enough
If ye give me a gold coin or three
A pint of the black stuff I'll buy ye.
I'll swear an oath on me shamrock
Put all I own in hock
If only ye will give me a share
On me shamrock an oath I'll swear.
I am Irish and from the emerald isle
That's a guarantee to make ye smile
Leprechaun grant me this one wish
From the emerald isle and I am Irish.
I'll drive you to Dublin's fair city
Where the girls are so pretty
You can have colcannon and stew
To Dublin's fair city i'll drive you.
Come home with me and vent yer spleen
Upon me very sweet Colleen
Then i'll escort ye to the infirmary
Vent yer spleen and come home with me.
Swap quantrains. Lets see what you've got.
Contest of Andrea Dietrich .
Listed as quantrain form.
Crisp January morning stillness
holds dampness in the air.
Mistletoe still hanging in the trees
and everywhere.
I inhale deeply to rejuvenate my
sleeping senses.
The fresh smell of winter, my soul
it truly refreshes.
Red berries hanging on the Holly
Hock trees.
Alive with color and bursting into the
morning breeze.
Poinsettia flowers in its chilled loveliness
so vast.
Upon my heart its beauty, it so
gracefully cast.
A new year and with it, it brings
new hopes and beautiful dreams.
At the foot of the mountain lies a wide verdant plain
With rich flowing breasts tend its enchanting brethren
A cuddly care that nature does, in collaboration with men
Catered to those gallant souls, nurturing the best it can
Every morning, when sunshine unfolds its resounding grace
Charming horses in auspicious race, dock their tails, all in graze
Glorious creatures they are when viewed near and afar
Precious stone-like muzzles adorned, each shines like ritzy car
Glossy fur is prominent, from withers, poll to forelock crane
The sophisticated look they have while galloping in any range
When the sun grows brighter in the middle of the day
Cowboys with their hats and chaps shout, hurray!
They run to check their rides before they saddle with glee
Patting stifle, gaskin, hock down to fetlock ‘though they’re jerky
Thorough inspection of hoof, coronet and frog they do and peek
And see if shoes are fixed, they’re good luck charms, shown in kicks
Stallions or mares, palomino, topaz… horses in any color and kind
Riding like a roller-coaster on their withers to their croup is so fine!
How I wish I can go with those cowboys in their pony-trekking
I want to be their horsewoman as they’ll be all my prince charming.
Oct. 17, 2016 1.40pm
Copyright2016Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
Ninth Place
Contest: Horses
Judged: 10/30/2016
Sponsor: Poet Shadow Hamilton