Best Knowed Poems
The purple on his chin was tellin'
there was just no use to lie.
That pesky, good for nothin' goat
had eaten Mother's pie.
She had set it on the porch
jist to cool it down a bit,
and don't you know that goat had come
and calmly eaten it.
My little brother looked as if
he was inclined to cry.
They'd warned him things
would have to change
or Billy Goat would die.
I got a rag to help him scrub
that bright dye off his whisker.
He could appeal to Mom's good side,
but didn't want to risk her.
That goat had climbed on everythin'
from our new car to house.
He'd eaten nightshirts off the line.
No wonder Mom would grouse.
I'll kill that goat", our mother said
a dozen time or so.
Of course she didn't mean it but
our brother didn't know.
Now little brother'd come along
when most of us were growed.
He never seem to learn the ways
the rest of us all knowed.
He didn't learn to work around
our mama's laws and such.
He had no wiles to pertect him.
His goat was sure in dutch.
Bein' so much younger must be tough
and not too easy sailin'.
His best friend was this pesky goat
and that was fast a failin'.
He guessed the only way to go
was take his goat and run.
He didn't think to take a coat
and weinies and a bun.
The rest of us when we run off,
we knowed enough to take
some warm clothes and some
sandwitches 'n even choclit cake.
We were all scared when brother
didn't turn up for a meal
and we could see the worry our
mama began to feel.
So Daddy got his good horse Dan
and took the dogs along,
and said he'd just go scout him out;
be sure nothin' was wrong.
It seemed a good long time before
we saw Dad ridin' back
with somethin' on his saddle.
It looked much like a sack.
But it was our little brother
and he was sound asleep.
Dad found him in the orchard
with apples in a heap.
His cunnin' goat had climbed up
in the ole apple tree
and flung down the ripe apples,
as nimble as can be.
So brother wasn' hungry
but he was mighty weary.
Our mother grabbed him in her arms
and all of us were teary.
That wily goat was smart enough
to prove himself a winner.
He'd saved our brother and himself
from becoming our goat dinner.
By: Joyce Johnson
"My dear Hannah: We're camped nigh a town called Gettysburg tonight.
I take pen in hand to write to you, my love, by the flickerin' candlelight.
From afar I hear the beat of Rebel drums preparin' fer battle on the 'morrow.
Oh, my darlin' Hannah! I ain't never knowed such loneliness and sorrow!"
"How I long to be with you and the children 'round our family hearth.
Ya'all mean the world to me, more than anything else on God's earth!
I recall so many times biddin' a sad farewell at our humble cabin door,
And marchin' off with my home brigade as we faced the cruel war!"
"I'm a-thankin' ye fer the chicken and apple pie you sent last week.
I shared it with my friends - it brightened our day which elsewise was so bleak.
This evenin' I read from my tattered Bible the Twenty-third Psalm.
We shared it many times at our family altar - it gives me such great calm!"
"I 'spect to be comin' home to help bring in the crops later on this fall,
And sit 'round the board to enjoy a bountiful Thanksgivin' with ya'all!
So fatten up old Tom Turkey, make some dressin' and sweet pertaters,
A couple of yer famous punkin pies and serve some fresh termaters!"
"I reckon I'd better close this letter 'cause its a-gittin' purty late.
Pray fer me, Hannah! I'll leave ever'thing in God's hands as to my fate!
Hug and kiss the children fer me tonight as you tuck them in their bed.
I'll see you soon, dear one. 'Til then, I remain your lovin' husband, Jed."
Alas, the Scythe of Death reaped Jed's soul upon that ghastly field of strife.
The hopes expressed in his poignant letter would ne'er be shared with his wife..
It was found in his tunic pocket as he was lowered in his hallowed grave,
As his comrades honored him for his service and the life he freely gave.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
We gathered for our thirtieth class reunion at Lydia's Smorgasbord.
I'd avoided such past events since in school I was largely ignored!
But my spouse proclaimed we would attend, thus ending that debate!
The dreaded encounter is expressed in verse below that I will now relate!
A social hour preceded the buffet where the booze freely flowed!
I looked about the room to see if I could spot anyone that I knowed.
I hardly recognized the campus queen - she had acquired a heap of weight!
That once haughty snob now tipped the scales, I judged, at one ninety-eight!
I saw the big-man-on-campus who was named most apt to score success.
He had a dearth of hair, an ample gut and an astonishing lack of finesse!
Some gal with purple hair staggered up to me and planted a slobbering kiss!
Must've been one of my old flames as I mused, "Now, who in hell is this!"
Guys gravitated my way boasting about this and that bending my ear.
They bored me with nasty jokes and trivia that I really didn't want to hear!
Of course I told all how great they looked, staring them dead in the eye,
And asking the Lord's forgiveness and crossed my fingers for telling such a lie!
The jocks were trying to impress one and all with their waning capabilities.
Most were hobbling about with canes discreetly masking their disabilities!
'Twas an interesting eve and the grub was great, of that there is no doubt,
But for our fortieth, fiftieth and sixtieth reunions, please include me out!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
POST HALLOWEEN
I’m a talkin’ bout them trick-er-treeters last night!
Dang kids cum up on tha porch –
Cum by the bus-loads
Up on tha dang porch!
“Trick er treet!”
Them dang squealee little voices!
Don’t trust none on ‘em
While maw’s a passin’ out nuts ‘n apples ‘n candee ‘n
stuff
I’m ridin’ shotgun a sittin’ on tha porch swing
I’m talkin’ bout a genyouwine 12 gage babee!
Oh it’s not a couple extree candees i’m wurreed bout
It’s them dang Jones twins
Honriest kids ever
An ya caint tell ‘em with the masks ‘n all
Weel tha brats knowed some better ‘n ta come
beggin’ on our porch last night
but this mawrnin whin I waked up look out tha winder
At first I thunk it snowed durin’ tha night
Nope!
Twas a charmin sight
Bout fifty rolls
in the good
old days
when
audiences
would
throw
such things
as tomatoes
and eggs
at the stage
at the per
son pre
forming
a proper
starving artist
would
give his
worst when
his
belly
grumbled
Hank had cowboyed and rodeoed fer nigh on forty years,
Ridin' in sleet, rain and snow a-herdin' cantankerous steers.
His hide was tough as leather and his legs was slightly bowed,
But brandin' dogies and fixin' fences was all he ever knowed!
His gut was made of iron from a diet of taters, beans and bacon.
Many times he was throwed from his hoss but his will remained unshaken.
He'd been bit by rattlesnakes and scarred from many barroom brawls,
And kicked by many a skittish bronc while muckin' out their stalls!
When tryin' to halt stampedes, Hank was often gravely gored,
And was hoarse from yellin' and cussin' at that riotous horde.
When shoein' hosses they often left an imprint on his chest,
Where flyin' hoofs landed leavin' him angry and depressed!
He didn't git rich and couldn't hoard money fer a rainy day;
Not much chance of accumulatin' such on a cowpokes meager pay.
His bed was usually 'neath the stars with his saddle fer a pillow,
Sharin' space with his old dog Spike and an occasional armadillo!
One day he up and told the boss, "I've had my fill of a cowboy's life.
I'm a-quittin' as of now. My old bones is weary from all this strife.
I'm saddle sore and tired of bunkhouse livin' and all yer stingin' slurs.
You kin take this job and shove it 'cause I'm a-hangin' up my spurs!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
I once knowed a poet named Jerden
Who ain't atall stuck on his wordin'
If they judge 'em unsound
He may nudge 'em around
And don't atall find it a burden
February 24, 2016
I have many fond memories growin' up on the farm as a boy.
Such simple pleasures in times more sublime brought me great joy!
I knowed it was summer when in June Dad bought me a straw hat,
And in the pasture we'd form a diamond to swing ball and bat!
I knowed it was summer when I could go barefoot sheddin' my shoes,
And wade in the 'crick' and let the warm mud through my toes ooze!
I knowed it was summer 'cause I had to attend Vacation Bible School,
When I'd rather be feeshin' than learnin' to live by the Golden Rule!
My dog Spooks trailed me as I ambled to my favorite feeshin' hole,
With a can of worms, safety pin fer a hook and willow branch fer a pole!
I knowed it was summer when upon a lofty oak limb I'd stretch,
Gazin' at driftin' clouds and, Oh!, the many boyhood dreams I'd sketch!
I knowed it was summer when I saw the steam tractor comin' down the road,
With the threshin' machine in tow to reap the grains that my Father sowed!
I knowed it was summer when I picked wild blackberries as big as yer thumb,
And ate so much homemade ice cream until my poor brain was froze numb!
I knowed it was summer when in the gloamin' I'd catch fireflies in a jar,
And listen fer the hauntin' wail of freight trains travelin' from afar!
I knowed it was summer when relaxin' on the front porch at end of day,
Fightin' mus-skeeters, sippin' iced tea and savorin' scented new-mown hay!
I knowed it was summer when hoein' taters 'neath the hot Hoosier sun,
And pitchin' hay and swattin' sweatbees, neither of which was fun!
I knowed it was summer when lightnin' lit the sky like the Fourth of July,
Followed by rollin' thunder and rain as 'neath covers in terror I'd lie!
I knowed it was summer when Mom made preserves, jams and jellies,
That along with her homemade breads and biscuits would sate our bellies!
I have many fond memories growin' up on the farm as a boy!
Such simple pleasures in times more sublime brought me great joy!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
What do you do when you walk into a Pizza Place? You order, wait at least 30 minutes,
right? Yes, and then the only other option is to listen, never dreaming you can also learn.
The delivery lady, a young, black who is exhausted bolts through the door carrying the same
large pizza warmers that she left with an hour ago. Bedragled and void of smile, she stops at
the counter saying, "Whew,what a night I done had!"
"Girl, what chew doin back here? You still got dem pizzas? What happened"?
"It wuzn't on the boulevard. It was down dis gravel road and my car bumped all over all dem
holes. Dey ain't on the boulevard, dey ain't! Aint no people dere"!
"Girl, Waz da matter wit you? I gave yew a map"!
"Yeah, I knowed but dey didn't have no money to pay me wit"
"Girl, dey done paid by credit card. You gotta go back dere now!"
An older delivery man is sitting at a table waiting to pick up his order to deliver
it "somewhere" and he shouts loud, "Girl, Welcome to my world!" then he adds
"I gotta go pick up my daughter but if I can work an extra hour, I'll get a friend to pick her
up."
OMG, I can feel their pain but do they really have any pain? This is a normal work week for
them and they are grateful for that extra hour of work to get that pay.
This is the real world. I don't live in the real world and I don't think that I ever did.
Talk to me..
The ol' saddle warn't much to look at but it was all Buck could afford.
He paid Billy five bucks fer it when Billy died and loped to his eternal reward!
The saddle fit his hoss Dan like an ol' shoe and sat Buck's buttocks mighty well!
Fer twenty bucks a month and found, Buck cowboy'd fer an outfit called Ruby Bell.
The saddle was scratched and gouged from chasin' steers through salt pine brush,
And stained here 'n' there with terbaccy chaw and splotches of muddy slush!
The other fellers made sport of Bucks well-worn saddle but he cared nary a tittle.
He'd jes' grin his boyish grin and loose a well-aimed stream of terbaccy spittle!
He rode many a mile astraddle fixin' bobbed war fences and corallin' stray cattle,
On night herd duty or on the trail in snow, rain and dust but he allus won the battle!
He rode the ol' saddle herdin' longhorns on the Chisholm Trail up t'ward Abilene,
Abidin' cantankerous trail bosses, rushin' rivers and many a perilous ravine!
He and Dan tried their luck calf ropin' at the annual rodeo down the road a piece,
But a wily calf busted the horn off'n the saddle, bringin' his rodeo career to a cease!
Buck found comfort usin' the saddle as his piller 'round the campfar at night.
He'd cuddle it like a dance hall queen he knowed 'til dawn's blindin' light!
Buck was as bow-legged as a pair of pliers from sittin' saddle fer many a decade.
He and Dan and the saddle had become mighty weary and somewhat frayed!
"Boys" he said, pointin' to a knoll, "When I come to the end of the trail and I'm dead,
Bury me beneath that pine yonder along with my saddle as a piller fer my head!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Well they done took away ma pension
whilst I waren’t payin no tention.
Never thought thet thar could happen,
Seems ma face they keep a slappin'.
Ah trusted all them folk thet said ah could,
ah took their word like they sed ah should,
but now ah see they jest a bunch a thieves,
Take all ya got and knock ya to yer knees.
Use ta was be you could tell a liar,
plain’s ya could the town crier,
Now they got sneakier ways,
from lots a practice these days.
Them banks and the government’s in cahoots.
Reckon they standin’ in each others boots.
Whisht ah’d a knowed they wuz gonna play those games
Ah’d a set much lower aims.. maybe like …Jesse James.
Done asked a lawyer onced bout business and ethics.
He laughed and said “Bob, business and ethics don’t mix!”
Never heered anybody say that right out loud…
Still laughin’ at me,.. he walked away proud.
Yep, maybe I’d a set much lower aims…
Reckon I’d a understood… Jesse James.
Hank lounged on his porch watchin' the sun slowly sinkin' in the west.
He'd cowboyed for nigh on sixty years and figgered he'd done his best.
Hank and his faithful hoss Old Dan was now enjoyin' their leisure years,
And he had time to recall his ranchin' days while tossin' back some beers!
He was so bow-legged from ridin' saddle he looked like a pair of pliers!
His hands was stained and gnarled from roll-yer-owns and mendin' wires.
He'd hung up his spurs, chaps and well-worn saddle without regret,
But he wore his scruffy boots, leather vest, jeans and sombrero yet.
He shuddered recalling stormy nights that spooked the wild-eyed steers,
Causin' hell-raisin' stampedes that endangered him and his peers.
He remembered more peaceful times ridin' herd with cattle happily grazin',
And a time or two chasin' cussed' rustlers with his .44 guns a-blazin'!
He swore he'd never eat another bean, tater or bacon in his life,
Since that's all Cooky knowed how to fix, a subject of constant strife!
He recalled how he stammered when meetin' ladies in many a saloon,
Which left him pawin' the floor with his pointy boots, feelin' like a goon!
Hank remembered cattle drives and in Abilene drawin' his meager pay,
Spendin' it on rot-gut whiskey and schemin' wimmin, blowin' it all away.
Hank peered into the distance and gazed at a lone pine tree in the vale,
Thinkin', "I want to be planted there when I've reached the end of the trail!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
A blue whale's tongue weighs more than an elephant
Now aren't you really glad you tuned in?
There are two hundred million insects for every human
Wouldn't have gone camping if I knowed that!
We weigh slightly less when the moon is directly overhead
Due to the gravitational effect
Too bad the moon isn't shining all day long
100 lightning strikes occur worldwide every second
Stay indoors!!!
Humans grow about 8mm every night while asleep
But revert back to their normal height the next day
Oh so glad, otherwise we'd spend a fortune on new clothes
250 people have fallen off the Leaning Tower of Pisa
Guess they leaned a little bit too much
1 in 28 American school-aged children
Have a parent in either state or federal prison
Holy crap! A really great example to follow
A single healthy human male produces enough sperm
In two weeks to impregnate every fertile woman on the planet
Uh! I volunteer my services... no charge!
Although gold is a heavy dense metal
It is generally considered non-toxic
Gold flakes may even be ingested in foods or drinks
No wonder restaurant meals are so high
Pope Francis once worked as a bouncer in a Buenos Aires bar
“Doing God's work?”
Mozart wrote a canon entitled “Leck mich im Arsch”
Which literally translated means “Lick me in the ****”
Nuff said!!!
© Jack Ellison 2014
While strolling through the graveyard the other day, I was drawn,
To a host of stones with creative and pithy epitaphs etched thereon!
Such flowing poetic verse is deemed worthy of recording for posterity,
Due to its peculiarity, sincerity, rarity and macabre hilarity!
"Here lies Gus riddled with lead! The high sheriff shot him dead!"
"He brewed the finest booze in the county! 'Til a G-man shot him for the bounty!"
"From his horse Red was throwed! He was the finest feller we ever knowed!"
"His jealous spouse cut short his life! With a twelve-inch butchering knife!"
"She slipped on a derelict banana peel! The bump on her noggin failed to heal!"
"He failed to slow down and swerve! Lost his nerve and missed the curve!"
"If you think this place has no appeal! How the heck do you think I feel?"
"Here lies the late bullfighter Umberto! He was fatally gored by el toro!"
"Clyde owns this piece of real estate! Or that's what he claims, at any rate!"
"Barnstormer Barney has flown the coop! He failed to negotiate an outside loop!"
"Cowpoke Pete has bit the dust! From his wild cayuse he was abruptly thrust!"
"A slug ended the career of gambler Steve! Seems he had some aces up his sleeve!"
"Too much cholesterol is how he met his fate! Docs warned him but 'twas too late!"
"She met her doom skating on the ice! Tried to do the triple axel thrice!"
"He always enjoyed a nickel cigar! Alas, his flame died out due to too much tar!"
"Upon my stone let no bird alight! Should that happen, please clean off the blight!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
If there's one thing
my parents knowed:
It was we had
a moral code.
Though mighty poor,
we behaved rich.
With manners taught
o'er a hickory switch.
At the table,
or sittin' on pews,
We sure as heck
knowed t'follow the rules.
Stealin ' and lyin'
just weren't a choice.
Nor cheatin' and fightin'
or raisin' our voice.
The children today're
no better or worse.
Though they might shout
And they might curse.
And though they might
have gone out and lied.
Fact is folks,
morals never have died.
Thankfully...
morals
never have
died.