Best Last Hurrah Poems
A SOLDIER’S LAST HURRAH
By
Robert E. Welch, Sr.
November 7, 2020
He was sitting at the table,
His coffee in his hand.
Not caring where he was,
This sad and lonely man.
The years that he had lived
Totaled ninety-nine and one
His memory was going
Of days when he begun.
He fought the war in Germany
With medals on his chest.
Then came home to family
Who said he was the best.
Now he sits alone at home
With none to share his fame.
Often asking for his friends
Though none had ever came.
Then a young boy came along
To hear the tales of glory.
The old man closed his teary eyes
And began to tell his story.
He passed away that very day
To walk the streets of gold.
Saying “Thank you, Lord, this last hurrah,
My one last story told.”
Lots of little moths are flitting
Near the bushes and the trees,
Such a frenzied sort of flutter,
They might stir a little breeze.
Some are solo, but more likely,
Most are traveling in groups,
Do-si-do-ing through the flora,
Doing crazy loop-di-loops.
In some spots, they’re like confetti
Which the wind has set a’whirl.
Guess their instincts have informed them
They’ve just time for one more twirl.
pilfering raccoons
raiding cornfields and orchards
laughing at farmers
Indian summer picnicking
Last hurrah before winter
.
Woe is the me
if I without supplication
inflict mine want
Such hern easy lift
she is the petite figure
of
mine last hurrah
No petty kiss from
this secrete self
‘pon her thankful breast
only gasp as her press
found hern goal
I was smitten by her sudor
Like hot oil
hern did glaze the me
and I without the wavering
forgot
mine last hurrah
last hurrah
for the school of fish
a bowl for two
04.19.18
1st place
"Fish" themed
hosted by M. Talbot
Sunset on the beach
My shadow stretches out to
Grasp the last daylight
Pinch me,I do believe I'm in love
With the looker who's swaying up above
With his stuff up in the breeze
He does surely aim to please
As I look for another dollar to shove
My girlfriends are shouting and giggling away
We celebrate her upcoming wedding day
Lots of silliness abounds
As we take turns buying rounds
The dancers know what to do and say
Embarrassment's not an option at all
The bride-to-be feels ten feet tall
They show her lots of attention
When her wedding we mention
The party carries on till last call
So glad my birthday wasn't known
Or my cover would've been blown
And I'd the embarrassed one be
As those Chippendales danced for me
A few extra moves would be shown!
for contest"Burlesque Botique"
sponsored by Miranda Lambert
A worthy cause
‘gainst daunting odds
A chance to set the world aright
Truths to be told
With hero bold
To champion a noble fight
‘tis all I ask
A final task
And while I still have beating heart
For win or lose
To fight I choose
For then I’ll know … I did my part
I'M FEED UP FIGHTING BATTLES....
THEY HAPPEN EVERYDAY.....
THE WINNING'S TAKING ALL MY STRENGTH....
THE YEARS ARE SO UNBENDING....
MY NERVES ARE SHOT TO BITS....
THERE'S ALWAYS SOMEONE OUT THERE..
WHO WANT'S TO TAKE YOU ON...
I'M LIKE A VETERAN BOXER HANGING ON THE ROPES...
EVERY PUNCH IS TELLING...
MY BODIES BLACK AND BLUE....
I TELL MYSELF I HAVE TO STOP...
BUT DEEP INSIDE I CAN'T...
THE HEART IS STRONG THE BODY WEAK...
THE BLOWS HAVE BEEN SO HEAVY....
I'M OFF TO FIND A QUIET PLACE...
SOME REST..
SOME PEACE OF MIND....
TODAY I HAVE NO FIGHT THE TIME HAS
FINALLY COME...
I CLOSE MY EYES AND SAY GOODBYE...
Autumn brings colors to uplift "summer's soul"
"washing withered" greens with bright patina;
the eyesight delight which brightens and abets,
with "fiery fusion," new scenes old summer will accept-
highlights, imparted justly, as her season's last hurrah
while she leaves, bereaves her lost Xanadu,
in the brilliance of red/golds swirled with orange/amber,
crowning trees and carpeting sprawled bald lawns with cheer-
to "soften summer's" exit within "Autumn's arena"-
until she returns again- post next year's Spring Rebirth.
September 11, 2022
~1st Place~
Contest: The A's Have It
Sponsor: Joseph May
Judged: 10/02/2022
Theme/Title: Last Hurrah
Bold = Alphabetical order of 3 words
Quotes = Alliterations
Italics = Internal Rhyme
---------------------------------------------------------------
Contest Rules:
2 or more lines with 3 words in alphabetical order. It can be
more words but the minimum is 3 words.
3 or more lines with alliterations.
2 or more lines with internal rhymes (perfect rhymes)
Spell out a word with the last letters of each line,
That word is your Title and your Theme
a red-orange golden glow
covers faded summer leaves-
autumn's magic brush
autumn artistry
Monet landscapes every day-
last hurrah before snow falls
their bright shawls carpet the ground-
winter, standing by-
before long, tree limbs are bare
December 9, 2022
Contest: Triple New Charlieku Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Charles Messina
Non-Traditional Haiku
Syllables Used: 7-7-5, 5-7-7, 7-5-7
Like Ken, ever on his last sail -
a soul slipper asway on gales …
Some loves shall lead these ending days
Tapering the winding display ~
High mountain air before lungs crush
Umpteen stars to drink ‘fore eyes hush
Rivers cold to shiver the numb
Rivers bold will quiver to dumb
Away, away, this last hurray
Hie now to float the scented way ~
(8/29/20: '96 Sea Ray Express Cruiser 400; DMS)
Cars line the curb - last hurrahs,
the last of pseudo praises,
or as Mom would say in the midst of a eulogy
"Do I know this person"?
Praises never thought of
while life strode so proudly blind.
As the bumble bounces on the hydrangea,
sadly, other blossoms are forgotten
while the most proud was overappreciated.
How many days/years until
my blossom is forgotten - left to pink
and wither in winter's shadow
then pale and blown away
before spring knows it's missing
...or even cares.
I'd much rather a fist raised in anger
and celebration "The bastard's finally dead!"
- Not a whisper when parting,
"You got a tee time for Monday?"
The cars line the curb, yet will they leave
simply thankful they came "for the family"
or will they give a damn … pause and say
"I will miss him".
LAST HURRAH OF THE MELTING SNOWHEAPS
Glisten you snow heaps.
Coruscate your last
In this sun.
For listen - you show
Signs of fading fast.
The sun which now magnifies your import
Will tomorrow bleed you to nothing:
And you will be an ill-recalled memory
In the far off sunny days of spring
………………………………………………………………………………
NOTE
Ever watched a melting snow heap
draining its life in rivulets of jewels like liquid diamonds?
Call it a requiem, dirge or elegy,
Lament, funeral song of eulogy,
On failing, dying light and last hurrah,
Maybe the last polite vah vah!
Once, a focal point of a family,
A device that brought it close together,
That not ere long a radio used to be,
Family fulcrum, pivot or tether!
Ere, youngsters were hooked to open-air games,
Later on replaced by digital ones
That made the able-bodied walking lames,
Each hooked on to a personal brand of funs.
Time was when the centre of gravity
Was food and frolics on a dining table,
That the Idiot Box had usurped; pity
That meal was munched with the fair served on cable!
One would recall, when ads for condoms came,
When sanitary naps ads became bold
In front of whole family, shorn of shame,
Children looked down on food plates, feeling cold.
Later on when times changed, unlike the old,
Children would look like: we-know-it-all-cool,
You were the prime piece of estate to hold,
You made, TV, an incredible pull.
The changing times then took a giant’s stride
When entertainment was no more social,
But more and more individual, personal,
You no more were, well, a newly-wed bride.
No doubt you too tried to be somewhat smart,
Yet, failed to compete with PCs and phones
That grew smarter, closer to users’ heart,
What can be done when changing times change tunes?
Today you’re far from your olden glory,
You try your hard to imitate smart phones,
Follow trodden treads, eyes tired and bleary,
O social outcast that house-corners owns!
Just one tap ah varied channels to change,
Enlarge a visual, or volume in mind,
One can command things of a varied range,
Alas, future does not seem to you so kind.
O pale shadow of your olden grandeur,
You no more are than a mere magnifier.
__________________________________________
Requiem |01.11.2021| elegy
Poet’s note: It may still be rather too early, but good old Idiot Box is on the way out. Here’s a requiem, maybe writ rather too early.