Best Horseshoes Poems
If I stare at the blank page long enough
Words will appear,
Words written in black ink, not mollified.
The words will grow together
Like grass forming a sod.
Then, as if on cue,
Spoons dance,
And horseshoes have wings.
A very short story would be the prime motive,
A murder of crows, perhaps.
And perhaps not.
Sometimes, the mud crawls together like glue.
It seals the burial of the crows.
It speaks in a slow language.
To interpret the hieroglyphs of the gods
Would be worthy.
The phone rings:
It is Kathmandu, dispirited.
Out of Montana a horn blows,
And the mountains sing.
The magpies are summoned to a conference
They will divide the spoils.
Their calls resound
On the north face of a mountain.
I remember reading a short story by Hitchcock. Three friends walk and converse as they make their trek home from work. Huddled in mind,
independently fearless, the cold air or hot night baring their souls.
crows on line watching
remembering silhouettes -
chalk line to be drawn
Three, two, one - for one must eventually walk alone. Walking the line, confident, aware of every shadow, lurking, stillness jumps out.
Hesperus midnight
moon scantily clothed in shroud
clicking of high heels
Let go the chain, the arm-in-arm armor. Pallor of countenance as pinking blush of rush hour fades into dusk. You can almost see fingertips reaching out, moving away.
vertiginous spin
heightened intensity fights
thundering heartbeats
One, why her? All alone. Path is familiar and unknown. She spots someone near her residence. She runs like a stallion. Her horseshoes clip clopping on cobblestone. Key shaking, cranking, releasing. Safe.
Safe in a prison, of sorts. Safe, wrapped in her place of warmth.
the rocking chair creeks
only for a little while -
shower curtain shrieks
Each lady found a friendly front door and the backside; that closed out the cold or was it warm air? The third lady, warming her tea, hears the clearing of a throat behind her…
the stories complete
but my imagination
runs away with me
Now, I’ve told this tense tale, as I remember it. Three, two, one,
the ladies parted ways. Two will meet again, but the last one, ripped from the pages of time, lingers.
suspension of peace -
invalid looks through window
placed there by Hitchcock
Church Folk
Church folk will hug you, love you
And throw a knife in that new coiffure
Church folk ain’t no joke.
They will definitely talk about
you when you are broke.
Some of them are dancing on Friday,
into Saturday night.
Getting to church on Sunday in the daylight.
Feet still stepping, pepping, body swaying to
music of their time, breath still
smelling like last night’s wine.
Sunday evening playing horseshoes
chugging down the home brews.
Church folk ain’t no joke.
They roll their eyes.
while they tell you lies.
Church folks shout, dance and stomp
to the ghost.
Seeing who can dance the most,
and gossiping while eating
that Sunday roast.
Church folk ain’t no joke
Polishing that door knob,
at the same time coveting your job
Twisting that knife
While lusting after your life.
Church folks ain’t no joke.
Many maidens have seen me rushing the gates of Paradise's pen,
I stomp and buck at all intruders of shallow flirt and short strident ride,
blue ribbons and sterling mouth bits interest me not,
no ordinary broad is going to braid my tail or crack my hide,
but only for you do I bang soft layered earth, chomp the fruit you convivially carry,
I'm a bona fide rodeo cheer and champion, the big ticket dangle,
they would pay high for the thump and pump of my dash and balls,
you I let service with original flavor, knees that were born to secure my ribs,
I like your saddle, firm oiled and supple, lets grip together off trails of tempered tourism,
love the way your voice tickles my plush fury ears,
I've got four horseshoes girl, ones gotta be lucky, lets leap and laugh,
escape the cattleman's dogs and outrun law & order,
touch and hug in brooks stiring sweet syrup,
have nipples hard like wine cork and thighs taut with tingle,
so get on babe, this Bronco is true to go, we're both gonna flow -
J.A.B.
Tisn't Fittin'
(Children's song music & lyrics by Joan Donnelly Ellis 1992)
Tisn't fittin for a kitten to wear a mitten
Tisn't fitten for a spider to terrify
Tisn't fittin for a doggy to wear cowboy boots
But it's OK for a Daddy to cry
Tisn't fittin for a turtle to use chop sticks
No sir, not even if he is Chinese, still tisn't fittin
Tisn't fittin for a worm to hook a walleye
Tisn't fittin for a bull frog to moo like a cow
But it's OK for a Daddy to cry
Tisn't fittin for grasshopper to play leap frog
Tisn't fittin for a pirate to shanghai
Tisn't fittin for a bunny to play hopscotch
No sir, not even if she's a champion hopper, still tisn't fittin
But it's OK for a Daddy to cry
Tisn't fittin for giraffe to tetter-totter
Tisn't fittin to lasso a butterfly
Tisn't fittin for a Stallion to play horseshoes
But it's OK for a Daddy to cry
Yes, it's OK for a Daddy to cry
Yes, it's OK for a Daddy to cry
David slings a rock
Cop holsters a glock, Lizzie Borden packs an axe
Mac he packs the knife, Billy battles with a club, Tommy’s gun is a sub
Kelly’s got one too, Bazooka Joe Is Gum, Peter Gunn isn't,Colt45not malt
Nor is it a horse, horseshoes & handgrenades, canons have big balls, Doc
Holiday had TB Rock Hudson had HIV, James Dean crashes his car,Hank Williams crashes a bar, Natalie Wood don’t float, Cain killed his brother, Juliette drank poison for her lover, Rev. Jim Jones killed with cool-aid, Whitey Bulger he got paid,dead man walking gets to eat Rodney King
got beat, Cupid’s arrow as Clyde Barrow, Mama Cass choked on ham
57,000 gone in Nam, Four dead in Ohio, Kamikazes fall 1941, again
they fall 2001Iraqi leader with a rope, John Belushi too much dope,
Charles Manson is alive MichaelJackson isn’t,Saturday night special
is very ordinary, Fast and furious is the crime, Dick Clark just his
time Pirate victims walk the plank, THINK,
Next I’ll come rolling in a tank
Hear the whistle of my missile
Dirty Harry had the biggest
The Derringer is small
Smokey Bear forest fire
Greek funeral is a pyre
Too many +’s or -’s
Is electric surges
Woman and child
sing the dirges
Walking dead
Are zombies
Fat man and
Little Boy
Are atom
Bombies
His young bride took the Twelve Days of Christmas to extremes it seems!
His true love kept piling on strange things well beyond his fairest dreams!
On the First Day of Christmas she gave him a shovel for shoveling snow.
On the Second Day of Christmas she gave him a fifty-cent jug of Red Bordeaux.
On the Third Day of Christmas he was presented with a scruffy mutt.
On the Fourth Day of Christmas he received a one-way ticket to Terre-Haute.
On the Fifth Day of Christmas she graced his skull with a silly beanie cap.
On the Sixth Day of Christmas she handed him an African contour map.
On the Seventh Day of Christmas he received a used Michelin radial tire.
On the Eighth Day of Christmas he was stunned to get a strand of barbed wire.
On the Ninth Day of Christmas he got a life-membership in the Red Hat Society.
On the Tenth Day of Christmas a collection of horseshoes, a most bizarre variety.
On the Eleventh Day of Christmas a parrot that spoke naughty words so gross.
On the Twelfth Day of Christmas he got the Visa Card bill leaving him morose.
He was underwhelmed by all this useless stuff and thought it mighty *****.
He was under the impression that Christmas came but once a year!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No.3 in PD'S "12 Days of X-Mass" Contest - December 2012
Soccer had a low priority at the
Annual Community Sports Recognition
Banquet and most of the other coaches
didn’t go so we always ended up
at a table with the Horseshoe Club.
Nice folk, but they were almost
as old then as we are now, and
we didn't have much in common
other than the old joke that
that close only counted in
horseshoes and nuclear bombs.
But on those warm summer evenings when I wasn’t coaching, I’d
say hello as I walked the dogs past the horseshoe pitch and it's
haze of cigarette smoke. These days. the pitch is neglected and
I can’t help wondering if they're still alive and where they've gone.
summer is coming
Schooldays are all but over
the bells will stop ringing soon.
the children will be yelling all day long as they play.
summer is coming
hot dogs and swimming
baseball and hamburgers
as the days get hotter.
summer is coming
fire up the RV for that camping trip.
to the water park we must go.
bike riding and horseshoes
bake bean and ice cream cones.
summer is coming
when will school start again??
WESSON
GIVES A LESSON
WITH A .357
DAVID SLINGS A ROCK
COP HOLSTERS A GLOCK
LIZZY BORDEN PACKS AN AXE
MAC HE PACKS THE KNIFE
BILLY BATTLES WITH A CLUB
TOMMY’S GUN IS A SUB
KELLY’S GOT ONE TOO
BAZOOKA JOE IS GUM
PETER GUNN IS NOT
COLT .45 IS NOT MALT
NOR IS IT A HORSE
HORSESHOES AND
HAND GRENADES
CANONS HAVE BIG BALLS
DOC HOLIDAY HAD TB
ROCK HUDSON HAD HIV
NATILIE WOOD DON’T FLOAT
NATILIE HOLLAWAY DON'T FLOAT
THE TITANIC BOAT DON'T FLOAT
JAMES DEAN CRASHED HIS CAR
HANK WILLIAMS CRASHED HIS BAR
DIRTY HARRY HAD THE BIGGEST
THE DERRINGER IS SMALLEST
CAIN MURDERED HIS BROTHER
JULIETTE DRANK POISON FOR HER LOVER
JIM JONES KILLED WITH COOL-AID
SLASHING WRISTS WITH A BLADE
BOW AND ARROW KILLS THE SAME
AS BONNIE OR CLYDE BARROW
CHARLES MANSON IS ALIVE
MICHAEL JACKSON IS NOT
IRAQI RULER WITH A ROPE
JOHN BELUSHI TOO MUCH DOPE
SATURDAY NIGHT SPECIAL IS ORDINARY
FAST AND FURIOUS IS THE CRIME
PIRATE VICTIMS WALK THE PLANK
THINK! NEXT TIME I”LL BRING A TANK
HEAR THE WHISTLE OF MY MISSILE?
AFTER THAT WHAT DO YOU BET?
I’LL COME FLYING IN A FIGHTER JET
SMOKEY BEAR’S RIGHT TO “BEAR” ARMS
OR DID WE JUST ARM BEARS?
NEVER STIFLE MY RIFLE
THIS IS MY RIFLE THIS IS MY GUN
ONE FOR FIGHTING ONE FOR FUN
CADENCE…
BANG - BANG - BANG - BANG - BANG - BANG
RELOAD
MOLON LABE
COME AND TAKE THEM
THE ONLY WAY FREEDOM OF SPEECH WORKS
IS BECAUSE THE 1st AMENDMENT
IS BACKED BY THE 2nd AMENDMENT
Fashion shoe treads imprinted on the bisque beach
global longtitude/latitude design airborne print in flight
Honeycomb print slowly pacing synchronising footsteps
Concentric wave prints grouping Fine detail pattern soul
beside clearly printed diamond fishbone sports design
Heavily studded trail souls tread along large paw prints
Simply dotted aerobic shoeprint next to little dog paws
A new soft pink fluffy seaweed floats in lacy ocean foam
Large horseshoe prints clomp digging deeply in the sand
Smaller horseshoes gather meeting near a water trough
Fresh green seagrass clumped like freshly cut long lawn
cradles long ball strands of yellow ochre squirting beads
Bare feet touching soft sticky sand immersed wet in water
Naked footprints side by side breathing beach vibrations
Two lovehearts drawn in the light brown sand interlocked.
Sandcastles decorated with shells sit sturdily on the shore.
Riveting Thread
Riveting
designs of antiquitity
Recovered ruins of the distant past
Mix and match with modern taste
Adaptations and variations
Cropped tops
High waisted pants
Shoulder pads
Corsets
Tie dye tee shirts
And acid jeans
Fringe Flapper strings and beads
Sequins
Earnings
And head bands or ornaments
Of the 1920s
Vintage
Classic, unique pieces
Collecting dust in the mere hour
Porcelain doll
Annabelle,
Her pout lips
And rosy, droopy cheeks
Find her chin
Her aquamarine eyes
Complimentary of the green olive of her puffy sleeved dress
Her head
Of strawberry blond tresses
Her cream, lace ribbon
Tied upon her curly strands
Embellished Elizabethan
Glossy polyester
In turtleneck
Two bronze bows tied upon her chest
Adorned with faded yellow wallpaper and synthetic flower ,
Golden and peachy hues
Masked by charcoal grime
Some two fingers chipped as tooth
Laced up brown cowgirl boots
Flat heel
Clicking horseshoes
Beguiled is the eye that dismisses
her rough countenance
Her owner knew not of her quality
Her value
Her brevity
A knowing eye prizes such finds
Collectables in his treasure box
Marckincia Jean
Free verse
09/03/19
People come and people go.
Here and there, to and fro,
High above and down below.
Why on earth did you have to go?
What did the angels say,
When you flew up there on that snowy day?
I bet they cried and welcomed you home,
And it proved to you,
You were never alone.
And then you grew wings,
Like an eagle in flight,
And you're seen in the stars,
Every single night.
I saw dark, and you saw the light,
And since that day,
I've lost my sight.
But for once in my life,
I can see so clear,
No matter what I know,
You've always been near,
Even though you're not with me,
It's ok, I have a little less fear.
Because your fear,
Was finally dismissed,
If I had just one wish,
It's to hear your voice,
And give you one last kiss,
And it's your laughter that I miss.
Somewhere out there,
In the star lit night,
I need to tell you something,
It's ok, I'm alright.
I'm better than yesterday,
And will be better tomorrow,
And of course I'll always have some sorrow,
And my strength I wished you had borrowed.
Whispered sweet secrets,
I'll always hold in my soul,
Like you are happy now,
You are finally whole.
You're no longer out of control,
Up and up away so high,
And no longer down here below.
Cuz' I know you're feeding,
The itty bitty birds,
And you don't need to say any words.
It would be so absurd,
To think you're lost and unheard.
I bet you're playing football,
With all the little tikes,
Tossing bean bags,
and riding bikes.
Maybe horseshoes,
Or maybe even cards,
Remember you taught me chess?
I gave up and said it was too hard.
Yesterday I found a card,
And it made me smile,
And only after a little while,
You asked “Why are you so tired?”
I heard you say,
You love me so,
And I whispered back
“I'll never let you go.”
You inspire me to do better,
To be seen and always heard,
And to ignore all the terrible things,
That are going on in the world.
I was always there for you,
As you were always for me,
And I am a little grateful,
You are now happy and so free.
You'd hear them every morning
Like a band of baritones
The echoes of the horseshoes
Clacking, on the cobblestones
Each huckster with a wagon
Pulled behind a blindered roan
Parading back and forth between
The rows of old brownstones
One would have fresh vegetables
And one would have fresh fruits
Another might have leather goods
Like saddles, shoes or boots
From furniture to pots and pans
Each peddler resolute
But if you looked then walked away
They'd follow in pursuit
Some just made deliveries
Likes eggs, or milk, or ice
Regardless of their service
Each one friendly, each one nice
Though some might have a gimmick
Like a special, to entice
If you had bought from them before
They might just drop their price.
By Daniel Turner
Summer’s seasoned lacings, all fetching,
uplift timid heartbeats with etchings.
Sunshine warmly touches me sky brushed.
Languid summer holds playtime sketching.
Touching water’s velvet soft richness,
sensuously tender in thickness,
captivates my deepest of senses.
Water must thrill summer as mistress.
Delight I hold when my garden shines
with produce sun thriving on green vines.
Sorrow stirs when garden grows dirt-dim
from Autumns push upon summer lines.
No coat, no sweater – summer bare feet –
dressing is a bit of style pieced sweet.
Summer freedom within her Eden
lifts my joy on high inside complete.
Horseshoes, croquet, hiking on park trails,
fishing, crabbing, grilling lobster tails -
all eases for adult stressed creases,
all pieces of summer’s bright details.
In summertime, I am a thrilled child
innocently day tripping beguiled
thru exciting treasures season swayed
until autumn shades persuade sun’s exile.