Best Horse And Buggy Poems
When grandpa was courtin' grandma, in those sweet days that are long past..
There were no automobiles to drive them, transportation wasn't very fast.
They had to make do with what they had, which was usually a horse and buggy.
And on those summer nights there was no air conditioning, and it could be most muggy.
They had no airplanes, no fancy restuarants, no laptops or PC's.
But they had a big full moon in a starry sky, and stole kisses in the night breeze.
They had no television or movie shows to depend on for a date.
But they did have imaginations to help them find a mate.
Grandpa would ask grandma very shyly if he could have a kiss.
And she'd say no and turn her head and pucker, grandpa would never miss.
And she'd say, "Golly gee, oh my!" And he'd say, "Wow! Oh me, oh my!"
And then his arm would slip around her, while they were looking in the sky!
And Christmas time was especially nice because there was usually snow.
They'd hitch the horse up to a sleigh and off they both would go.
Sliding on the snow so white and slick, they always had such fun.
Even when the sleigh got stuck and they got out to run.
Yes when grandpa courted grandma, in those lovely days of yore,
The clothes back in that day, were different that they wore.
Grandpas knickers were the height of fashion and grandmas long dresses were divine.
And it really didn't matter much because it was that time.
But wouldn't you dear hearts agree, if we could just go back.
And visit in that time again how much we'd like to pack.
Of grandpa's strong convictions and grandma's virtues fine.
And bring a little back with us, yes, to this day and time.
Autumn's Arrival
Leaves radiate vivid colors beautifying elms mesmerizing dubious eyes
Seized out of wooden closets woolen sweaters and scarfs would suffice
Warm breezes bade goodbye to an impending avalanche of glacial chill
Nights endure longer as stars paint panoramic scenes in silken vermeil
Stoking tinder in campfires country bumpkins imbibe whiskey and rum
Driver sporting Victorian gear embark on a horse and buggy tryout run
City dwellers undermine tourists upending stores plowing for a bargain
Autumn awaiting raindrops summon the skies to rain upon a mountain
01/17/2018
12:21 A.M.
West Palm Beach
Florida
in the church of the latter day pipe dream
the jungle heartbeat settles with the sleeping sun,
the hightone choir kicks up a midnite melody filled with street bead jubilee
in the chiily frost a houndrel skidmark queen skates circles
around the thatched hut of eternity
holding burning rites reaching back through catacomb starlights
marriage a forgotten horse and buggy seventy six trombone dream routine left in the blue sky cornfield tractor breeze
sex evaporates like a withered tiger eye in a jejune july wind
satisfaction’s red lip lightning bolt sparks green exit goddess dressing golden imprimatura in the fog lifting drift
teenage trollers leave their uneasy dancing slipknot slippers at the doorstep of juicy blended upended black currant roll fiestas
Hearts hear happiness breathing
Heavenly hope free of grieving
Hesitating a healing hearth leading
Home that happens to be heaving
Harm that has heard the pleading
Haunting hastening toward the meaning
Horse and buggy that hauls a load
Handles the hollow form of the code
Heartened heart who has always rode
Hoarded heavily inside their abode
Hoping to heal the heartiest ode
Having hopefulness which has flowed
Hallucinating a haven that might explode
Horseplay which leaves all of creation
Hope of a second chance to avoid temptation
Heaven happens to heal every relation
Hastening us all to last through the duration
Hues of angelic halos remind us of salvation
Alliteration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
December 6, 2020
Mildest autumn on record up here
What will become of us in future years
Will we all melt away
No more rides on a sleigh
Just a horse and buggy, no muffs on our ears
© Jack Ellison 2015
The bridge was built in 1892 across the gorge of Deer Lick Creek.
Many eerie things have happened since that time adding to its mystique.
'Twas built when men took pride in their guild of yesteryear.
Built of sturdy oak, it will stand for many years, that is very clear!
Eerie clip-clop of horses' hooves can be heard on moonless nights.
'Tis reported that darting to and fro are mysterious lantern lights!
According to local lore a lady in white emits a sepulchral scream,
As she leaps from the bridge with a babe in arms into the rushing stream!
On certain moonlit nights a specter is seen dangling from its beams.
He was caught in the act of fornication by an angry spouse, it seems!
Even to this day, horses are spooked as they skittishly cross the span,
And libidinous lovers avoid it as a trysting place when they can.
The old bridge has weathered many seasons with dignity and grace.
Once, horse and buggy crossed its oaken floor at a much slower pace.
'Tis pleasurable to stroll across its creaking planks and muse upon its past,
But best you do so during the light of day or the stroll may be your last!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
they till the soil
with a simple plow
pulled by a horse
they've weaned
no electric
nor vast education
only hard work
religious dedication
a simple people
of limited skill
yet a divine community
of love thy neighbor
you see them
on horse and buggy
a painful sight
for speedy drivers
who live life too fast
to notice a smiling beard
we buy their products
because they produce quality
quilts, baked goods, furniture
made with hours of personal touch
such a wonderful community
once distant from the world
now tragedy has found them
the price paid for trying to belong......
Bob Shank-Oct. 4th, 2006
yesterday a nut went into an amish school and killed 5 little girls, while wounding
others. Every year I go to Lancaster, Pa. to get 10 shoo-fly pies from a barn
(store) near dutch wonderland. I love the pies, but the people even more so, such
a quality of life they lead, and yet they are slowly buying into society's material
ways and they don't realize the price is far to heavy to pay. Somethings are better
off left alone, like the molasses used in the shoo-fly pie, change it to syrup and
the taste is bitter.........
He died so many years from old Blue Ridge
That all we knew of roots were faded names
Renewed in happy tales and banjo songs
He carried with him through the narrowing plots.
His vision went from horse and buggy youth,
Brush harbored preachers and a one room school,
From hard work started early on the farm
To satellites and men upon the moon.
He ran away, a boy to be a clown
And brought a ready humor down to us.
He was proud and self-sufficient man
Who loved to fish and caught a host of friends.
Five generations, father down to son,
A ministry had gone; he was its last.
He claimed a pact with God had made him preach
And proved it living purer than his words.
We watched the vacant temple through our tears
Because there is no place to place a love
That final, and because we cannot know
The secret dreams denied to let us dream.
Nana told me once how she and Pop-pop
went courting in a horse-and-buggy.
How quaint I thought, and was a bit amazed
how far we humans have gone:
from smelly, plodding horse
to crossing an ocean in an afternoon
while six miles high....
Then Grandma told me something shocking:
she said they went out in that carriage--
to make love! Nana! I gasped silently,
until I saw she meant the words literally:
my grandparents went courting!
Months of courting to make the love
that would hold them together for over
sixty-three years...and I am only here because
two young people took long, long
buggy rides behind a tired, smelly horse.
[rec'd n/a/ on 8/1/21 in a ***** ******your choice' contest]
Time running, flowing
away
where are the treasures
of yesterday
so many things gone, vanished
obsolete
the horse and buggy
the rumble seat
but more than that
as time goes by
the young don’t even seem to try
to embrace the things that we hold dear
like morals and values
it’s all to clear
the things we embraced in our youth
time took it’s toll
and no longer plays a roll
but with help and patience
kind and true
we might just see this generation
through.
Upon the freshly fallen snow
Outside a church a horse and buggy
Waits for the owner to arrive
They are going for a ride
To a farm that has a sleigh ride
In the farmer's field close by
Enjoying the sleigh ride
Hot chocolate is served
After the sleigh ride
The children will have coca
With a tasty snack to enjoy
A lot of fancy gizmos befuddle me in this technological age,
Where perplexing computers, texting and twittering are all the rage!
I can empathize with the feller who renounced horse and buggy days,
To subdue the baffling horseless carriage that became all the craze!
Clyde Schlunk reluctantly retired his faithful horse and buggy wheels.
He was the first in town to own one of those new fangled automobiles!
'Twas simple to harness a horse, feed him oats and shoe him all those years.
Now he must master complex clutches, cranks and shifting gears!
'Twas hard to break years of habits spent driving a buggy and horse.
He still had his buggy whip near at hand in the automobile of course!
When trying to stop the machine he'd yell, "Whoa! Nellie! Whoa!"
As he tried to avoid a tree or slid through slippery sleet and snow!
His erratic driving terrified chickens, horses and little old ladies,
As he whipped about that sedate little town like a bat out of Hades!
The only pain he suffered from his horse was a kick now and then.
But when cranking the carriage he busted his knuckles over and over again!
He still hollered "haw" to turn to the left and "gee" to turn to the right!
Did the town folks' ridicule bother him? Not by a blame sight!
Clyde never learned how to control those forty horses under the hood.
He couldn't rein 'em in causing all sorts of havoc in the neighborhood!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 2 in Joyce Johnson's "Your Very Best" Contest - February 2011
As we traveled along in our horse and buggy
The air smelled heavy with dew
Our horses were tired and hungry
And most of us were too
We only have a days travel at least
we might as well rest for a bit
So I set up camp by this covered bridge
and decided to have a sit
My bread and dried meat tasted bland
so I washed it down with some mead
Set up my bed, and unpacked my things
fell asleep in the summer heat
I awoke to some movement off in the woods
was my mind just playing games
i heard nothing more, so I laid my head
fell asleep to the crackling flames
The fog became dense, much too thick to see
A scream shattered through the night
i grabbed my things, pulled sword to hand
running, ready for a fight
I heard the clash of steel ring through the air
the smell of battle on the rise
I met the enemy head on
screaming bloody battle cries
Casting soldier after soldier down to the ground
I heard their grunts and moans
Taking them down quickly
Before their brothers hear their groans
But there were just too many to hold off
The bodies were starting to pile
So I grabbed a few guys
and got every women and child
We ran down the road to the Covered Bridge
and hid down in the ravine
We heard the horses hoofs overhead
and we were never seen
WAFTING through the open window
A DULCET floral FRAGRANCE
Adds to the TRANQUILITY
Bubbles in her BLISSFUL bath dance
An old screen door creaks open
He approaches, WHISPERS, “My queen,
Your royal carriage awaits.”
She emerges and dons her jeans
“My lord,” she replies ELOQUENTLY,
A LILTING quality in her tone,
“’Tis our picnic basket you desire most."
She laughs, emits a subtle groan.
Indeed, the old farm horse and buggy
Are prepared for the couple's ride
Through spring fields in LAVENDER SPLENDOR
So they open the trailer door, step outside
Tenderly she reaches up, takes his hand
He gently pulls her onto the carriage
This lord and his loving queen know
True wealth is found in their marriage
*For Andrea's "Beautiful Words" challenge.
In November when frost was on the punkin and corn was stacked in shocks,
And the snows began to fall and geese flew southward in V-shaped flocks,
'Twas time to gather in the corn for a huskin' bee on the old barn floor,
Where neighbors gathered to have some fun and fulfill a vital chore!
Ma slaved over her wood-burnin' stove to provide fixin's for the event.
Pa and the boys squeezed apples makin' cider, hopin' it would soon ferment.
Lanterns were hung from beams and baled hay was there for seatin',
And Ma confiscated Pa's saw-horse table to spread the vittles for eatin'.
Folks arrived in scores by horse and buggy, some by open sleigh,
Tetherin' their steeds to hitchin' posts after feedin' them oats and hay.
The bee began with the belles and swains huskin' corn by the bushel.
Findin' a red ear of corn among the yellow was deemed so very crucial,
Since that person rated a kiss whether a lovely belle or the local cad!
The huskin' done and corn scooped away, there was more fun to be had.
The floor was swept for dancin' to the music of a fiddle and mandolin.
Good grub, fun and fellowship reigned til the wee hours of morn, therein!
Even grandpa and grandma were seen squar' dancin' which was neat.
The rafters of the old barn shook to the beat of dancin' and shufflin' feet!
Ain't no fun anymore since corn is husked and shelled in one fell-swoop,
By a dude and his corn-pickin' rig even without the aid of a scoop!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired