Best Jowls Poems
I relate this story from my room in the Quiet Vale Giggling Academy
A reader might find my story hard to believe
BUT!
At one time in my life –
As a matter of fact quite recently –
I had just finished Dr. Doolittle’s great study
‘Talk to the Animals”
And after several months of following Doolittle’s observations
Found I could actually understand animal talk
Which was really just grunts growls and bodily motions –
Tail switches
Chop-licking
Lurches
Farts
Things such as that
Quite by accident
While walking in the woods one day
I happened on a scene
A robin told me was ‘animal court’
Resided over by Judge Grump
At once I noticed a huge lion
Seated on a stump
His heavy tail thumping the back of the stump
“When Grump thumps the stump court will come to order
And when Grump thumps the stump all better listen!” sang the robin
There were a number of spectators -
Squirrels
Possums
Raccoons
Deer
Birds
All chattering at once
So that Grump had to thump the stump many times
Growling horrendously till they stopped chattering
There was no jury
No lawyers
Just this marvelously striped tiger
Tail down
Standing in front of Grump seated on his stump
I assumed the tiger was the defendant
The lion judge began with a thump of the stump
“You are accused of eating your best friend
Is that correct?”
The tiger swished his tail
“Yes”
“A dachshund named Stretch
Is that correct?”
The tiger swished his tail
“Yes’
“Sad” the lion judge continued
“You were reported to have done everything together –
Touched noses
Sniffed out-holes
Even wrestled together
Such fine friends
What could have caused such an action on your part?”
At this point the attending group began chattering vigorously
The lion judge Grump thumped the stump
Thumped
And thumped
As thumping the stump wasn’t loud enough he growled
Finally the crowd quieted
“How could you do such a thing to your friend Stretch
I’m stumped.”
The tiger looked around
Eyes blazing
Jowls dripping
Gorgeous stripes undulating blazing in the sun
Tail swishing in manner of reply
“I was hungry” he said
“Case dismissed!” said Grump
With a thump of the stump!
Categories:
jowls, animals, funnytiger,
Form:
Grandpa
a kind face
skin leathery and creased from years of working in the sun
long jowls like a basset hounds
sad droplet eyes
always a slight aroma of beer
brown wrinkled callous palms
dirt-stained fingernails were evidence of an old man’s toil
a blue plaid shirt now ashen from wear
a tall man
always unshaven with scrapes of gray hair that would scratch you un-mercifully if he asked for a hug
he walked with shoulders hung and bowed over as if broken
that of a man who had known the burdens of inequality all his life
the kindness in his eyes reflected a graceful acceptance of his fate
his tears masked a rage and unforgiveness for the destiny of his children
late afternoons he would sit out yonder under a huge black gum tree
a blackened wood briar pipe a pack of red man chewing tobacco and a can of snuff beside him
one jaw always popped out as the tobacco had to sit just long enough before it was time to spit
he would sit in that shaded spot for hours on end
up till sunset most days
always staring intently at something out there
was it memories from his past
or perhaps the dreams of a past that someone stole
eventually, grandma would call out to him
Henry where you be?
he would always reply
after awhile
I’m just there…
I never understood what that meant before
Until now
Categories:
jowls, grandfather, grandmother, memory,
Form:
Free verse
A stealthy tiger stalks his prey
His eyes alight with cunning gleam;
And tho' the world may peaceful seem
The lissome springboks graze and play --
The danger lurks, not far away
He crouches low, his muscles taught
While calculations fill his mind
The perfect arc of force to find;
His quarry, still without a thought
Of what design the tiger sought
The tiger springs, the creatures flee
His mighty limbs with awesome force
Perform their planned and deadly course;
Now lies the springbok piteously
Forever torn from things that be
And o'er his corpse presides the prince
His solid jowls bespecked with blood
His razor claws in crimson flood;
He glories in these trickling glints
That show his skill in ruby tints
And when the prince has et his fill
The birds descend to eat the rest
To feed the young ones in the nest;
But on the tiger roams at will
He's free to wander, hunt, and kill
Written on the twenty-eighth of July, 2013
Categories:
jowls, animal, cat, death, power,
Form:
Quintilla
Your face and rotting teeth and heavy jowls
and sunken breasts with bulging waist and
wooden legs
betray
Your image of laughter, lovemaking, seeking
bourbon tweaked philosophies
of life begins
at forty.
The hands that tremble as you tilt
the glass that begins another
day of
Tirade thoughts, empty lies, money spent on
lipstick coated leeches who prey on
your diminishing
breath.
Through these wintry days pass faces long past
into what was then
while with the coming spring ...
at last! at last!
One can remember
and want no more
what could never be:
a Mother.
Categories:
jowls, childhood, hope, life, loss,
Form:
Narrative
Corsican sand
on the Rio Grande
Simon Bolivar weeps
the night asleep
Renegade cycles
hogs gone mild
Gehinnom's Mayor
Timothy Leary's child
Zebras abound
in Peppermint Land
Alan Ginsberg howls
from primal jowls
Leopold Bloom
did not predict ZOOM
Cosmic collisions silent
without Daniel Boone
Country music
Mix in Ragtime
from Alexander's Band
to Motown Rhyme
Andy Warhol's mind
spilled out in soup cans
Campbell's pork and beans
Welsh Rarebit also-ran
When free association
Met psychic gestalt
The resultant metastasis
Petered out beneath salt
Stream of Consciousness is out
New Age Meaninglessness is sin
Wherever Narcissism reigns
Foot Worship rushes in
The best poems at night
often come unbidden
J. Cricket fervently wished
This one hadn't been written
Categories:
jowls, angst, confusion, crazy, howl,
Form:
Rhyme
I can’t rid of the bags under my eyes
The crowfeet despise, all were lies,
Conjured was an illusion of you
Throughout my groping confusion
evasive, flimsy
A-m-o-r-p-h-i-c, innuendos
I was subjected to your derision
dissing me relentlessly
deriding my appearance,
disparaging my intellect
as I stumbled and fell into the abyss
Mocking doesn’t suit my countenance
My lips desert dry, thirsty, parched
An amazon no longer beats its drum
My buoyant nature now laden with coarsened shroud
Leaving a cardboard moon deprived of its shine
Stars like candles blown out one by one
No use waiting for the rising Sun
The end of world does come,
stopped spinning neath heavy ebon clouds
Expectations unreal
All zeal gone, listless is my spirit
along with my illumination
Now you see me
unmasked in raw anguish
I d
r
o
o
p
jowls hang from endless
torment endured
like the drenched and cold, wounded hawk
taken flight, eagle-eyed, a warrioress
more determined and bold, traveling on
with unlimited range
and self-esteemed
This bird,
you
c
a
n
n
o
t c h a n g e
Categories:
jowls, love hurts,
Form:
Free verse
I welcome 2019, I'm glad it's here.
I hope it will be an excellent year.
Many years ago on every New Year's Day, Mom cooked hog jowls and black eyed peas.
But I didn't like those meals very much, I wasn't pleased.
Sadly, I now spend New Year days alone because Mom is deceased.
I certainly hope that the year 2019 will be a year of prosperity and peace.
God has given me another year to live and for that, he deserves my praise.
I will love, praise and worship The Lord for the remainder of my days.
I hope that 2019 will be a good year for others and myself.
And I wish everybody a year of happiness and good health.
Categories:
jowls, god, mom, new year,
Form:
Rhyme
I’m Virgo, playing music tranquilly
in this self-portrait. The clavichord I chose.
It denotes fine education; the black clothes
I'm wearing prove I value chastity.
Dark as a shadow, to the left of me
is the face of my governess, which shows
I am dutiful. My face fairly glows -
lit with love for the arts and poetry!
See me in this latter portrait, still in black,
a high collar at my neck. A strange disguise
my face is now; I'm nearly taken aback
to see my sagging jowls! How dim my eyes,
and how thin my lips! But never did I lack
for love! I have lived long and have grown wise.
*Sofonisba Anguissola, who called herself Virgo, lived
from 1532 to 1625. She was a female artist known
for her great grace and modesty. I chose to write of
her using the Petrarchan Sonnet to honor her Italian heritage.
The two self-portraits described are from when she
was both young and old. I thought it interesting to
see how she changed with the years. If you copy and
paste my link, you will see several self portraits from
her youth and the two on the bottom are probably
close to when she was in her 90’s!
Please see http://bjws.blogspot.com/2013/01/1500s-woman-artist-sofonisba-anguissola.html
Categories:
jowls, art, woman,
Form:
Italian Sonnet
Black-Eyed Peas for New Year’s Meal
Black-Eyed Peas
Black-Eyed Peas
I’m going to freeze
If I don’t eat Black-eyed peas
On New Year’s Day
Black-Eyed Peas
Black-Eyed Peas
Gee Whiz please!
Gotta have those Black-eyed peas
Mammy and Pappy always
Said, “Eat Black-eyed peas
And you will have plenty of monies
The rest of the year and live in ease.”
Black-Eyed Peas
Black-Eyed Peas
Play a little ditty while cooking those
Black-eyed peas
Cook them with bacon, or ham bones
Fatback or hog jowls
Serve with a
Side of collard, turnip, or mustard greens
And golden brown sweet cornbread please
Black-Eyed Peas
Black-Eyed Peas
Mammy and Pappy always
Said, “You can live with a little passing gas
On New Year’s Day
To enjoy having plenty of monies
The rest of the year and live in ease.”
Black-Eyed Peas
Black-Eyed Peas
I’m going to freeze
If I don’t eat Black-eyed peas
On New Year’s Day
12/29/2016
Categories:
jowls, food, money, new year,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh, finely feathered fellow
with plumage of green and yellow,
your Houdini-esque abilities
and astounding circus-like agilities
make my flabby jowls drop with surprise
at how easily your hooked beak can prise
any dwarf-sized opening in your cage,
to open so easily, under your gauge.
Your stuffed, fat, feathered body can
fit through anything. Yes, I'm a fan.
Your squeaky, squawky, shrill talking
lets me know my efforts you're mocking
as I try to burglar proof your cage
as you shriek at me in indignant rage.
You really should hope that I succeed
because if I don't, the cat you'll feed.
04/04/2013
~~~ for Suzanne's Synathroesmic Cat contest ~~~
Categories:
jowls, humorous, pets, cat, me,
Form:
Couplet
I've given the plight of kids crossing our border thoughtful consideration.
I would like to propose a panacea that might ease this critical situation.
I recommend that pilots flying kids to the USA make a flight deviation,
And drop kids off at airports in DC while the Obamas' are on vacation!
I know they'd be delighted to share the White House food and recreation.
After all, the grounds are fenced so kids could be kept under observation.
Unload kids at the Capitol for distribution to each Congressional delegation.
I bet they'd take speedy action to secure the border as well as deportation!
I sent my idea to Washington but as yet have received no firm confirmation.
I can only assume they'll set Congressional hearings for serious evaluation.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Written with considerable tongue in jowls!
Categories:
jowls, humorous, political,
Form:
Couplet
Poverty Slop and
jowls of ground beef.
Saliva to corn
that's creamed to belief.
Mashed silk potatoes
spread over the tongue
sealing meat in
to covered and mung.
Tin pan the Shepherd.
A pie sitting heavy.
A feast for a King
and the bowels of a levy.
Full potted tummy.
A growling way down.
Back taste of kernels.
A hunger been drown.
Baked Shepherd's Pie
asleep in the oven.
Morning to eyes
like those of the sloven.
Categories:
jowls, food,
Form:
Couplet
Since time immemorial, or so I've heared,
Mankind has struggled to tame his beard.
Was it Adam who imposed upon us this atrocious curse?
(I reckon I could sport a beard but to that I am averse.)
I've scraped and nicked my mug fer nigh on four-score years,
So I will share my shaving experience to educate my peers.
First, splash a generous supply of soapy water on yer kisser,
So as to arouse the attention of each and every whisker.
Apply a liberal amount of Burma Shave to ease the stress,
When with that wicked razor blade yer jowls you do caress.
Twist yer schnoz at an acute angle in order to shave below the nose,
Taking care not to nick yer double chins and any problems that may pose.
Once this onerous task is done, use toilet tissue to heal the bloody nicks,
Then apply a liberal amount of Old Spice to really impress the chicks!
(I must confess that I use an electric shaver to mow my intractable stubble.
'Tis so much smoother on my leathery hide and sure is a lot less trouble!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Categories:
jowls, humorous, , memorial, ,
Form:
Rhyme
Two Dogs at the Gateway
By Sy Roth
They slurped their saliva,
huge globs,
big, barking mouthfuls
dripping from their jowls like milky icicles
Teeth-bared lips,
They guarded the gateway.
Pleased by their vacated spittle,
their noses now sniffed the air, and
like a marching band of electric ants
they ogled the nearing invader.
Anew, the soppy, conglomeration of spittle
wells at their muzzles
forming a frothy milkshake
determined to expel the approaching trespasser.
His hands stretched out flat in peaceful kindness,
prophylactic, heavy-breathing
moseying him to the gateway
wraps him in a pulsing eagerness.
A satyr’s blessing upon him as he approaches
Where the two dogs growled ominous presentiments--
Twin Cerberuses,
Headache kin of dashed wishes.
Evening shadows stifle all desires.
Lips part in anticlimax.
He rolls to the other side
away from the yapping hounds,
away from the uncomfortable pauses,
away from the anticipation
onto a sterile, flattened field
where done yet reeks of a flaccid fantasy.
A grotesquery of mordant imagination
content to sleep on the other side of the booming roar
away from the slurping beasts,
he drops hands down to his side.
Tomorrows march on and the gateway,
a finale wrapped in the twins’ slurping,
slams shut.
Categories:
jowls, anxiety, death,
Form:
Free verse
A devil in three-piece polyester
Sweaty jowls hanging over starched collar
Worker’s bane, savings account molester
Stalking your front door, try not to holler
Huntin’ for your cash; not all he will do
Piles of workers’ scalps under his front seat
Lambs to the slaughter for our Darthie-poo
Laundering funds for government elites
Business buys Washington, who buys the vote
Our tax dollars, the machine’s power source
IRS laws cut the middle class’ throat
Wall Street’s equal opportunity whores
Puts the “fun” in “fundraising” for the Man
Darthie’s knocking and he’s not here to beg
One measly pound of flesh, that’s not his plan
By law, he’s due at least one arm and leg
4/20/16
Categories:
jowls, america, money, society,
Form:
Quatrain