Best In One Fell Swoop Poems
'Twas the night before Christmas and their pages were bare
Not one word could they write, not one verse to declare
The Grinch had snuck in, and in one fell swoop
Had stolen the muses from poets on the "Soup"!
It was the thing that all poets dread
As visions of emptiness swirled in their heads
No syllables floated to fill in the gap
Some poets decided their contest to scrap!
Then on the blog page there arose such a chatter
Poets rushed over to see what was the matter
The blogger's avatar was just a red sash
She said she could get back the muses, for a large sum of cash
Many of the poets thought this was a trick
It was just a scheme to make money real quick
But in the blink of an eye another blogger came
He said that St. Nicholas was his real name!
Now Heidi, now Anne-Lise, now Andrea and Jan
They told us that St. Nicholas had a plan
To the realm of the Grinch where green snowflakes fall
St Nicholas would go and retrieve the muses for all!
In no time at all he took to the sky
And to the realm of the Grinch on his sleigh he did fly
As the Grinch lay sleeping the muses he withdrew
And to the Soup, again he flew
He delivered the muses to all the poets around
Poets started writing their words did abound
They wrote of angels and bright stars, and things that uplift
St. Nick had given them the muse as their gift
Then St. Nick called for all his reindeer
And soon he took off and flew out of there
But they heard him say, before he left the site
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good write!!
Your words cut- like a woodcutters axe
chopping me down,
blood spills onto the pine strewn floor.
Exhaling words. Spoken without thought,
or love, trapped in an unbreakable bubble
that floats around my head.
Purple memories emanate from the centre,
rippling into infinity, becoming distant…
lost to the edge of life.
I thought love would save me, but
it too floats away on a starlit stream.
15/5/2013
Scrambling tooth and nail for a patterned fate
I approached the lofty mansion of Learning's Gate.
All cued up for a slip of paper - the one they call Degree,
halfway convinced that I hallucinated humanity.
For who under their own free will would venture
into this spiraling sameness:
this illustriously-in-debt, this Regal Club
of the Nameless?
I bellowed my voice into the air
(This great atrocity!).
But not a single student seemed to care:
So well fashioned they were,
adorned in their prized medals of mediocrity.
Along with their unwillingness to ever stray,
all too content to be but rainbows dreaming of gray.
I hung my head in such morose emptiness.
As I fashioned myself: the uniquely ubiquitous.
And what a fool I was to join the crowd - and yet so halfheartedly.
Striving for the cirrus clouds, the silver moon, and then the galaxy.
For my actions didn't match my cerebral creativity
I was statue still cursed with a meandering mind
(and other such extremities).
Exploding with hopes large enough for two
I sat clearly convinced languid leaps would do.
But one cannot daintily decide to dream the Dream
for it is merely the seed, another earthly deed.
You're not allowed to walk away, gandering as it grows,
for we are likened as the summer sun - keeping the rivers a'flow.
"Picturing profits in your hands
do not till the all too ready land"
explained the elderly gent with leathered palms,
"Someday soon you will understand."
And though we aim to be ourselves
gravity inevitably
brings us to the grid.
Imagination like a heavy rain;
we the paper people
so helplessly hid.
But fear not ye denizens
of the cherished cubbyhole:
where you keep under lock and key
your dust-laden soul.
If one burgeoning blunder
tore it all asunder
surely one single spirited spark
could heal even the most
dormant of hearts.
So fare thee well oh Cookie Cutter Coop -
Another day on that wretched plain, and I'd surely die.
I'm glad just to sever sameness in one fell swoop
by hanging on a star in the midnight sky.
NOTE: I always enjoyed using alliteration when I could... and with this particular one I went a little bit nutty... but I think it turned out okay.
Shame on those who malign the green bean casserole!
It gustatory delightfulness I shall e'er extol!
With 'fork in cheek' I'll take nonbelievers to task,
And their foibles and biases will strive to unmask!
Folks who disdain this dish ain't tellin' the truth.
Their culinary tastes are so pitifully uncouth!
I'd like to meet the feller who began this unsavory fable,
To ask why he destined it for such an untimely label!
At the church potluck dinner on fellership night,
There's always a green bean casserole to my delight!
A holiday repast with bountiful board just ain't complete,
Unless there's the inevitable green bean casserole to eat!
'Tis such a scrumptious dish, yet so easy to prepare.
Even I could whip up a batch, I really do declare!
Mix some beans, some onion thingys and mushroom soup,
And there you have it folks, all in one fell swoop!
Ere I flee this realm I aim to found as one of my goals,
"The Society For The Propagation Of Green Bean Casseroles!"
Upon my stone you may etch when I end this life's pursuit:
"Many were the green bean casseroles consumed by this galoot!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
After the movie finished, the young couple,
kissed and said goodnight.
It looked like rain was approaching,
as grey clouds came into sight.
He had to look after his golden voice,
protect his cords from any harm.
A scarf was wrapped around his neck,
guarding his voice, his lucky charm.
Opening up above him, the grey clouds burst,
catching him completely by surprise.
Buckets of rain in one fell swoop collect,
in a pool at his feet, right before his eyes.
No way would he let troublesome rain,
destroy the happy thoughts he had tonight.
Starting to sing, his feet begin taking flight,
twirling his umbrella, he dances with delight.
Having a ball dancing in the unrelenting rain,
his clothes are soaked to the skin.
Waving his umbrella up towards the moon,
round and round he goes, his tail's in a spin.
Suddenly he stops, he's not singing any more,
someone is standing in front of him; oops it's the law.
Slowly he turns with his umbrella, after a brief warning,
and dances in the rain till the wee hours of morning.
Beside the bar I nursed my drink, depression was my food,
she entered like the World's first dawn and cut straight through my mood.
Her dress a silky vortex, skirt was flowing, bodice tight,
the flounce swayed with an ebb and flow like scarlet Northern lights.
Looks crafted to bewilder, eyes dishonest, smile was kind,
she knew that I was curious, and had somehow read my mind.
Cocktail cherry on her lips, a prop to tantalize,
I took the plunge, sat next to her and gazed into her eyes.
A deep breath, with my fingers crossed, I asked “Are you alone?”
Too late, I realised I'd stepped into her killing zone.
A brief appraisal, up and down, and then she laughed out loud,
which brought the curtain down on conversations in the crowd.
Head down, red faced, I turned and walked a dignified retreat,
to find a booth in shadow, where I meekly took a seat.
This dark art she must practise, as she'd pulled off quite a coup
to eviscerate my pride and ego, all in one fell swoop.
Fallacious my long held belief, now well and truly sunk
that I'm a real lady's man, but only when I'm drunk.
For contest 'eight word challenge', sponsor John Hamilton
28th June 2018
She was a star – I was a gazer
Imagine my surprise
when the stage door opened
and in walked a goddess
Dark hair, dark eyes,
a bounce in her step,
a leap in mine
Fiddling with the curtain cord,
I lost my balance
and my heart in one fell swoop
Spot lights focused,
igniting the stars in my eyes
which were still dim in her glow
Dressing rooms offered
champagne and cherries,
but she looked at me
Double checking the script,
it wasn’t a love story -
a poetic rewrite was in order
I handed it to her when I finished,
she tossed it aside
and kissed me
The curtain went up
and the audience applauded,
a standing ovation
She was a star
and I was a gazer -
now we shine together
Three fine fellows listening
to a concerto of cello
Dined at a picnic
under a weeping willow
While one turtle flew
over the chicken coop
Two ostriches looped
around on hula hoop
All got together
for a bowl of purple soup
Before digging into
a luscious cantaloupe
Stacking high a
mountain of marshmallow
They munched a bunch
of mellow yellow jello
With a big dessert spoon
in one fell swoop
While troubadours played
music for the dance troop
Read on air by invitation ~ March 2, 2021 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
AP: Honorable Mention 2021, Front Page Pick 2021
Submitted on March 6, 2019 for contest HONORING DR.SEUSS sponsored by MICHELLE FAULKNER - RANKED 3RD
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
Adam mused and stroked his beard saying, "I've really got it made!
All I do is eat and sleep and lie beneath The Tree Of Life for shade!
That is until a couple of weeks ago when God put me in a trance!"
He sayeth, "Loan me a rib to create a wife, your love life to enhance!"
"In one fell swoop unto me He created a lovely lady named Eve!"
I asked, "Why is thy physique so different than mine? - I was so naive!"
"Come hither, big fella" said Eve, "I think we can figure it out!"
That's how the "genesis" of Cain, Abel and Enoch came about!"
"With a wife and kids to support, my problems now began.
I regret to say that is what brought about the eventual fall of man!"
"A sneaky snake talked Eve into eating fruit from The Tree Of Life.
Since that little dido, I and humankind have known nothing but strife!"
"Heretofore, we could romp, play and roam about Eden undressed.
Now, I have to wear scratchy fig leaves that really leave me stressed!"
"Cain is in the hoosegow for a fit of rage and the slaying of his brother.
Why me Lord? Why this onerous scourge upon me and his mother?"
"On top of all of this, I now have to labor for my daily chow.
Alas, all of mankind must now toil by the sweat of their brow!"
"Folks, I'm sorry for perpetrating such terrible misery in your life.
Truth be told, you can blame that wily snake and my wayward wife!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Placed 4th in Linda-Marie's "Adam In Eden" Contest
The moon seems somehow hollow tonight;
It’s light ghostly and intangible –
It peers at me like a baleful eye, marking me out
Spotlighting my sad state of solitude
‘Look at you, all alone,’ it mocks, in clangorous tones,
‘See how he has deserted you – the one who ruled your world.’
Oh yes…see how he has abandoned me,
The brash and beautiful traitor; Satan-snake in the grass…
Furious, my shoulders stiffen, the muscles in my back twinge;
Outrage boils in my guts, a seething whirlpool of bile and venom
And as I remember your face, your haughty stare, it hits -
I am overtaken by the nausea of wounded pride
And the worse – oh so much worse – pain of a freshly massacred heart
It is so powerful that tears of agony sting my eyes
I am forced to bow my head so my hair falls forward,
Curtains my face so the cruel moon won’t see me cry…
You know, beautiful brute, I think you’ve killed me this time
I can even feel the hole you left…the one you gouged in my heart
My probing fingers can detect it, leaching misery into my blood,
Spouting black despair like desert oil…
And as for my trust, well, that’s all in tattered shreds;
A bloodied battlefield banner, lying crumpled on an airless day
I can imagine, sweet, that wherever you are you’re gloating
In one fell swoop you annihilated my heart and soul
You put me through the agony of sleepless nights,
And endless days unable to eat for wishing you were here
And at the end of it all, when you did appear, all you did was stab;
Was plunge your knife into my exposed and fragile spine –
And twist…and twist…and twist…
Until I slumped, weeping and worshipful, onto the glistening moon-washed floor…
(alternately titled: tongue in cheek humor
cuz the following hyperbole
from this pencil necked baby boomer
without intent to badmouth,
nor start unfounded rumor,
who chalks, i.e. attributes gobbledygook
to funny bone tumor).
Impossible mission maneuvering around
soiled clothes pile
floor to ceiling humongous mound
terse reply hopefully adequately sound
to convincingly doth explain
absent poet buried alive underground,
perhaps never heard and/or found
till 1-800 GOT JUNK uncovered
emaciated (lovely bones)
formerly Matthew Scott Harris
his remnants discovered
visa vis mastercard bloodhound.
No need to fret
(while guitar gently weeps),
just talk to who barkeeps
works long late hours, he oversleeps
thus best track him down,
without uttering peeps
please find out if he knows
anybody reliably housekeeps
maybe lady luck will
thru think magical realism
deliver sophisticated robot
harkening within outer limits
from twilight zone
hookin get the job done
in one fell swoop sweeps.
Meanwhile yours truly
tries to remain upbeat
despite being royally tricked
upon pledging his troth
haint cool wedded bliss
heavily perspiring courtesy ultraheat
smellbound by malodorous laundry
necessitating heavy amount
of clorox to pretreat
which I rather drink,
(and thank president Trump)
for sakes Pete!
Though the misses upholds
voluntarily cooking as wifely role indeed
worth commendable attention,
I do concede
and doth adequately buzzfeed
her hubby lest he
wither away to lovely bones
(well past due date
late to avoid
above mentioned outcome,
his (mine) corporeal
being well nigh freed,
thus complaint regarding
spindleshanks solved no knead
to strain skinny ankle muscles
and maintain self promise
holy matrimony, cuz
aye know weed
never remain married forever
as initially agreed.
Fickle finger of fate
hath spoken thru smelly
potential Superfund site
perhaps... not amazing how heaping pile
of unwashed laundry can create
ecological hazard, that warrants B44
one bedroom apartment condemned
management understandably irate
to withhold security deposit
nearly four years at Highland Manor
now ready for model
domestic counterpart to debate
with her better angels where to relocate.
night fell
and engulfed us all
in one fell swoop
cold came and it was fall
AP: 3rd place 2022, Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted on April 8, 2019 for contest APRIL 2019 PREMIER 2 sponsored by BRIAN STRAND
Originally posted on October 12, 2018
Dear Folks: Just a few lines from your homesick army draftee.
Just twenty-four hours in the army and if it was left up to me,
I'd just as soon go home and forget the whole blamed thing.
I feel I've been sentenced to life in the barren walls of Sing Sing.
My first train ride was exciting for this old country boy,
But beyond that the day has brought me very little joy.
I reckon I'll never get used to their regulations and rules.
The army is run by silly manuals written by asinine fools!
I was stripped naked for dozens of very minute inspections.
My arms are sore and swollen from numerous injections.
Remember those wavy locks of hair that I pampered for years?
In one fell swoop I was bald, almost driving me to tears!
They prepared reams of paperwork and advised me of my pay.
Wow! Twenty-one bucks a month, that's seventy cents a day!
I hoped to be an air corps pilot but the tests just didn't agree,
So I ended up as a buck private in the good old infantry!
The captain swore me in - it's for the duration plus six,
So there's no hope of getting out of this miserable fix.
It's time to hit the sack, soon "Taps" will start to blow.
Pray for me, write when you can, Your loving son, Roscoe.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
If you feel we evolve by chance,
here’s something that you must decide:
the type of steps that you will dance
explaining how blood cells divide.
Now only mammals do this split
which seems odd on the face of it.
For surely wings need oxygen
in the same way; where to begin?
See, mammals have erythrocytes
That have to squeeze in places tight.
Apparently, they found it scary
traveling the capillaries.
And so, it’s said, mutation error
found a way to meet this terror:
eject the red cell nucleus
and slide on through without the fuss.
Capillaries in a mammal:
needle’s eye through which a camel
passes, so the logic jumps:
just remove those great big humps!
And so is formed an apparatus
in an instant, all for gratis.
But wait! No, Darwin’s change evolves
through incremental change, resolves.
First the stem cells must divide
since capillaries are too wide.
Then, as we’ve discussed,
they must pinch off the nucleus.
To do this, cells must build a ring
That somehow pushes everything
within the cell all to one side,
constricting forces, slow applied.
A soft spot in the wall then sprouts;
the nucleus gets pushed right out.
Pinched out just like a bit of dough:
it takes ten minutes, rather slow.
From here, it seems, we pick the best:
enucleated blood cell test.
There cannot be an in-between,
emerging slowly on the scene.
It must appear in one fell swoop
for Darwin filters out the soup,
discarding any useless bits,
unfinished intermediates.
The magnitude of change required:
too great for chance; time has expired.
This leads some learned folk to say
it must have been designed this way.