Best In And Around Poems
the clouds outside brought along the thunder
making the pillars of the courthouse want to fall
sitting at my desk I began to wonder
as the teacher spoke he faded into the wall
my mind drifted like a piece of wood
with my imagination running ahead
pulling my thoughts as far as they could
in and around like a needle and thread
forgetting the lesson for the day
and finding a hidden corner of my mind
I knew the path but not the way
as I sat there letting the trail unwind
I was lost by all my mind had to show
with no one but me to offer suggestions
the good the bad the high the low
like one answer to a thousand questions
fluttering around like a sparrow
I couldn’t find a ceiling or a floor
but the walls only seemed to narrow
as I reached for the only door
opening to misplaced dreams of the past
and memories that had long departed
hoping this place would forever last
but I began to float back to where I started
realizing I had landed from my mental flight
I looked about a class full of hollow aspirations
blindly nodding their heads whether wrong or right
without chasing their own imaginations
I saw magical faeries.
Tripping in and around
Sparkling wings shining
In the dazzling sunbeams
That transversally filtered
Through the mighty beeches
Of a Bavarian forest.
A royal feast proclaimed.
The mighty Queen arrived.
And took her place on a throne
In a prominent part of the glen.
Sumptuous abundant delicacies
Appeared out of nowhere,
Cheeses and pixie pears,
And saffron flavoured cakes,
Plus, milk laced with honey.
Enchanting lively music
Advanced towards the glen.
Happiness and Felicity
Thrilled the expectant audience.
Soon, darkness fell around,
But innumerable, bright glow worms
Lit up the secluded grassy glen.
Dancing thus began in earnest.
Until they tired out and all returned
To their cosy leaves to dream
About their lovely Fairy Queen.
I have a dear feathered friend who greets me each day at dawn!
He likes to dwell in and around the crab apple tree on my lawn!
From his perch he serenades me on wintry Colorado morns so drear,
Cheerily belting out trilling melodies that are so pleasing to my ear!
Oft I've wondered why Robbie Red Breast opts to winter here at all,
'Specially since all his friends flee these icy climes for Florida each fall!
While they bask in the warming sun enjoying cocktails of orange juice,
He prefers wintering here with me along with all its nippy abuse!
'Tis a wonder that the little creature can manage to survive,
Since there are no wiggly worms for him upon which to thrive!
Robbie doesn't worry - The Omnipotent Creator sees to his daily needs,
By providing an occasional hapless bug and a few wind-blown seeds!
I think that rascal relishes wakening me from my slumber each morn,
As he flexes his wings and sounds reveille to begin his daily bourne!
I'd rather be woken by him, tho', than the neighbor's yapping mutts!
'Tis certainly far more pleasant - of that there ain't no ifs, ands or buts!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
I sit at the table looking out the kitchen window
drinking the autumn warm golden shades
of red, brown, and orange leaves descending and walking through my yard.
My mind swims with thoughts of seventy autumns,
yearning to purge into words that storm within me.
This old encrusted frame kidnapped the child I once was,
in tears this heart thoughts flow reflecting on the past.
Unconsciously holding my breath,
my wizened hands shake slightly while I write.
Like the ocean at the mercy of the wind
sweeping away by the demands of everyday life,
I write pages and pages of weeping words.
Waves rush in and around, losing myself
in a wakeful dream as I hear the distant chants.
Love and be loved
a rhythm of my soul too still the storm within me.
With hope of once more, to be young in the embrace of my love,
for now I open the door of my heart and let him continue his journey.
10/5/2017
I sit under a large Nuttall oak
its leaves protect me from the sun.
Around me, lizards abound
as they scuttle in and around
the soap stones and other rocks.
Silence abounds except for the melodious
Singing of light brown Veery birds,
With their mysterious sweet voice,
While cicadas strum their mystic song.
Time for my solitude,
Away from disagreeable persons.
Not everyone loves to be alone.
In truth neither do I,
but occasionally it is a must.
I need to ponder my past in seclusion.
As evening approaches I wander
lonely among the lofty hills.
Below are verdant vales and winding rills
A pleasure to sore eyes.
Alas, my joy is ephemeral.
My time is up.
I betake myself back home
Where I know my love waits.
It does not feel right to be always alone.
The mistral cold wind blew incessantly wild,
Winding in the streets, its glacial currents in and around
The apartment blocks where all frosted windows
Were tightly secure. Still the bleak wintry chill entered
From tiny ruptured chinks and spread inside
Annihilating the miserly heat emitted
By old cranky air conditioners and gas heaters.
Occasional bursts of strong wind blew
Some soft snow up like winnowed chaff.
One hopes the homeless found some place to rest.
Melodies pour out from my soul.
They float up towards the stars,
swirl in and around clouds,
swerve, spiral and swoop like swallows
in search of their cozy homely branches
of the tall stately cedar trees.
Melodies of my passionate serenade,
a dulcet harmonious canticle of praise,
listen, they sing of my undying love
for you, just for you and none other than you.
For I was made for you as you were made for me.
What can come between us, my loved one?
Melodies of mine whirl glide and waltz,
like a breeze among the thick-leaved trees,
under the canopy of star-lit night sky and settle
upon your luscious lips in a long endearing kiss.
We arrived with expectations of triumph
There were agonies, desperations and tears
Coloring the hills with melancholy shades
Erasing the imaginings of soldier’s anguish
Embracing loss from the heights of passion
Where worries win and misery invites pain
To grasp the soul with a sense of forbode
Whispering despair through breaths of air
Filled with black dread and amber silence
Created in the hearts of those who shall kill
The sons of chaos who reach for a chance
To divide and conquer – defeat the wretched
Wickedness of those who long to succeed
Reach victory along the front lines where
Gettysburg soldiers are drifting along paths
Of loss and sorrow, fears of all that has past
And the tomorrows that are filled with knowing
Death is a friend to those who defy it with
Mercies murmuring and sighing, silencing
Each breath of hope that finds its way to the
Surface where there are only defeated desires
Drenching the spirit with gloom that comes
From losing every battle to the one who will
Finally overthrow the light with darkest night
The Battle of Gettysburg was fought July 1-3, 1863 in and around Gettysburg, Pennsylvania by Union and Confederate Soldiers during the American Civil War. This battle involved the largest number of deaths during the war and is often described as the war's turning point. The North won this battle with General Lee's forces.
A Historic Event Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
September 18, 2020
A cat sat on a buckaroo hat
A hat that was not a hat
but a Flying Fox bat,
A bat like a hat
that was not a bat
but a Spacecraft
from the planet Cobalt…
Can you just picture that?
This story is as simple as that,
A Spacecraft like a bat
Slick, smooth and flat
with a cockpit and all that
and a cat from the planet cobalt
in an outer space, as far as that…
There’s more to it than that.
While chasing an alien Rogue Rat
in and around the galaxy and all that,
Cat Cobalt in the outer space got lost
in the rat’s extraterrestrial habitat…
Now, what’s up with that?
Here and there, with this and that
From beyond yonder just like that
Poor Cat Cobalt on our Earth fell flat,
No ceremony and no welcoming mat…
Oh, who would ever want that?
To get back home this resilient cat
with one purpose alone and that’s that
He rebuilds the broken Spacecraft
with the help of one domestic cat
and goes back home to Planet Cobalt
Now no one knows where it’s at…
This ends the tale of the Cobalt cat!
~08/01/18
~"Cat Poems" contest by Tania Kitchin
“I don’t know.
It’s been just one of those itchy
dry skin days
where you know somethin’ has to happen
but it ain’t;
at least not chet.
I was expecting a call but
it hatn’t come either.
The ‘wild willies’ were settlin’
in somethin’ fierce
an my stomach was feelin’
somethin’ awful.
It was like- -um, uh
taste of bad whiskey
on molded bread
that was tryin’
to be fresh,
but there just weren’t no way.
Even if it could, what
difference would it make?
Not a dab!
So I just sat and stared- -
at the coals,
that used to be lit,
and still could be if I was a mind to,
but I ain’t .
Shore is cold though.”
as the last thought
he ever had, passed
through his head.
I wrote this in a semi-light hearted motif to take some
of the edge off of a sensitive subject.
Do you know someone who feels alone. They are just
as alone as anyone you will ever meet, Loneliness is an
acquired perception, often a gift of good people, though
not habitually or intentionally thoughtless or self-centered, they
“just do not have the time”, They “do not want to get involved”,
or “just do not like someone’s looks”
Go visit an old age home this next week. Sit in the lobby and strike
up a conversation with any old person not interested in the TV.
See how good you feel when you leave, even though you may
have dampness in and around your eyes.
children parents pets
noise in and around the house
lovely atmosphere
Rusted golden knob,on the left of a parched
and partially painted door.
Turn clockwise,close my eyes and push
Screeching,squeaking keeping eyes closed no peeking
Dust,musk and dander fill my nasal passages.(sneeze)
Open my eyes low and behold images flash through my mind.
Hastily and apace my recollections reappear,
While witnessing a single spider falling slowly to the floor.
As I step into this great empty space-just past way of the door.
Looking,seeing a gander rising my eyes to head level,
Piercing airborne gilings and dancing soot,
Flickering rays from the sun infuriate my sight like I am a midnight devil.
Light roaming in and around from a dingy sliding glass window,
A vignette emerges of the old wooden fence in the backyard.
This is where we lived-And that's where we played hard.
One reads about the famous ones, them
that live a life of stress, about taking
all sorts of pick-me-up-pills
then downers, so they can rest.
Well I’m just an ordinary guy with nothing
to call my own, but life to me is still up
and down without the use
of any poison of a sort.
The movie stars worry about their movies,
the recording artists just the same, big
Businessman thinking of his next
contract, the player of his next game.
Some days I’m on top of the world
the next deep in its abyss, so I just
sit and write poetry that gathers
in and around my head.
(Then just worry about them that worry.)
© Harry J Horsman 1988
***************
From out...
Of the Cookie Cutter
My love for Christ
Shall always be
-----
When I think of His Love
It brings' things' back to me
In and around Eternity
------
I simply must reply with-in
I know that their is a reason
Why thing's shouldn't have been
Let Thy Will be done'
------
Why Gods' only Son
Had to die on the 'CROSS'
That day, to revive the people
To make them Pray!
------
And surely did they Pray!
------
Yet, by no stretch
Of the imagination...
Was the title lost?
------
But for the price of freedom
Jesus paid the COST
Poet Author
Gary Fields
Mountains with vibrant floras
Led down to fruit laden orchards
In the verdant vales below.
I heard her then, a syrupy song
Of tender love and feats of old.
I stood beneath an apple tree
As her song wafted on the breeze,
Sliding in and around the fruit trees,
Scattering aromatic fragrance around.
Serendipitously I came onto a small farm.
A small river wended its tortuous way.
A small bridge took me to several patches
Where vegetation grew. I could live there forever.
All around I enjoyed the serenity
That I had craved for but rarely found.
Swiftly night descended as the moon
Rose from beyond the low hills.
How I enjoyed the evening farm food
Where I was invited and then
A good night sleep in their spare bedroom.
But morn came, and grudgingly had to leave.
Back into the heart of the city,
Large edifices, black with age.
Everywhere the smell of stale food, burning oil,
And a hint of smoked marijuana.
O to be rich and escape forever
To my lovely vale, now so far away.