Best Lob Poems
Some folks smile when I say I’m a writer
Some smirk, suggesting I should get a job
My stories and poems make our days brighter
Fantasy often, and, occasionally macabre.
Some of my poems make your heart throb
They may elicit laughter when I am lighter,
Friends enjoy going out with me to hobnob
Some folks smile when I say I’m a writer.
Writing opinion, I can be a fierce fighter
A sarcastic line I have been known to lob
To meet a deadline, I’ve pulled an all-nighter
Some smirk, suggesting I should get a job.
My profession does not make me a snob
For I need your stories to write a nail-biter,
Just as history gave us Hugo’s Les Misérables,
My stories and poems make our days brighter.
I edit a great deal to make my writing tighter
Much time and effort’s required, I’m no slob.
I write a mixture of genre, I can be a compiler,
Fantasy, sometimes; occasionally macabre.
So, I pay little attention to the illiterate blob
To those who delight in being a backbiter,
Who are no more important than a watch fob
Spending their time in meaningless blighter,
When I say I’m a writer.
Written June 15, 2022
#33 on Best New Poems List
Poetry Soup
June 22, 2022
#36 on Best New Poems List
Poetry Soup
June 19, 2022
When winter’s end is imminent and springtime soon becoming
blackbird and thrush in noble song bumble bee busily humming.
Scent of air fondles the hazy morning scattered seed cultivates
memoirs of time, to ramble throughout lob wood and hear sweet
bluebells across the valley chime.
sweet song of nature
the sound of the butterfly
harmony at dawn
Hosts of yellow heads briskly swaying hillside meadows in unison
bloom, fussy rodents in jubilant paradise; Street House Farm in
nature’s plume. Pussy willow caresses the embankment; Ridding's
Farm basks in the heat of June, inspired scythe displays ancient skill
fragrant hedgerow sings dawn’s vibrant tune.
tears of dew sparkle
grassy stems in sunlight sway
a whisper of wind
Ocean of radical heather signify welcome waves of moorland mist, deluge of dewy tears fall on this place heavenly kissed. Wooden bench outside the old hay barn, where the sultry breeze in sugar hill dances, orchestrates the old folk with war-torn minds reminisce those given a life of second chances.
for to those this day
a touch upon rustic face
nature’s sweetest voice.
© Harry J Horsman 2019
White marble stones
Stand proud in the sun
To remember my colleagues
The heroic fallen ones
Many a battle
Many a campaign
Some did return
For some never the same
On the green grass I stand
Blue sky above
The souls of my comrade's
Like peaceful sitting doves
The name on this stone
Reminds me of the day
My best friend and brother
Was taken away
An offensive was launched
Brothers at war
Bunker to take
At the top of a tor
Smoke screen exhausts the view to the hill
As we wind our way through
Zipping bullets, blood spill
Noises of lead, as they rip through the flesh
As we hit the barbed wire
Now a scarlet stained mesh
Objective in sight as we approach our aim
As I hear the groan of the injured
Many dead, maimed
Grenade pin pulled
Bunker window we lob
Hands sweating
How many lives will we rob
Explosion flash, shouts of pain
As the smoke lifts on this bloody terrain
We enter the Bunker
To witness our task
The enemy lie distorted
Faces grimace, death mask
I turn to my brother to signal it's safe
As a shot rings out in this theatre place
He stands still for a moment
Eyes glazing and cold
The death of my sibling
At 19 years old
As I open my eyes and turn to my son
I see what I have as he holds my grandson
Family values, love and a bond
As I remember my brother
Of whom I was so fond
I proudly walk past, salute as I go
The white stones standing proud
Peaceful doves in a row
I find myself fortunate to stand here and tell
To talk of my brother, and the fallen as well
.
White marble stones
Stand proud in the sun
To remember my colleagues
The heroic fallen ones
Many a battle
Many a campaign
Some did return
For some never the same
On the green grass i stand
Blue sky above
The souls of my comrade's
Like peaceful sitting doves
The name on this stone
Reminds me of the day
My best friend and brother
Was taken away
An offensive was launched
Brothers at war
Bunker to take
At the top of a tor
Smoke screen exhausts the view to the hill
As we wind our way through
Zipping bullets, blood spill
Noises of lead, as they rip through the flesh
As we hit the barbed wire
Now a scarlet stained mesh
Objective in sight as we approach our aim
As i hear the groan of the injured
Many dead and maimed
Grenade pin pulled
Bunker window we lob
Hands sweating
How many lives will we rob
Explosion flash with shouts of pain
As the smoke lifts on this bloody terrain
We enter the Bunker
To witness our task
The enemy lie distorted
Faces grimace, death mask
I turn to my brother, to signal its safe
As a shot rings out, in this theatre place
He stands still for a moment
Eyes glazing and cold
The death of my sibling
At 19 years old
As i open my eyes, and turn to my son
I see what i had, as he holds my grandson
Family values, love and a bond
As i remember my brother
Of whom, i was so fond
I proudly walk past, salute as i go
The white stones standing proud
Peaceful doves in a row
I find my self fortunate to stand here and tell
To talk of my brother, and the fallen as well
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-2.php
Under a grin, redirected,
A sniff of grief claws
Through, revealing
A sad blue artery,
A pain 24-7.
Underscored with carefully
Emoted verbs,
And adjectives imbedded with
Mock sincerity,
A simple sentence: a right to be honest.
Beneath the pulse in heartbeats encephalo
A few tearful regrets
Lob empty phrases into
A field with no guilt, washed and dried,
And returned unlabeled.
FOB Echo Iraq was a forward operation base near the Babylon site in the city of Diwaniya, in fact the US military put security hesco and fencing around the ruins for protection from all of the goons in the region. This was a hot base and the hajis would lob at least 3 salvos of mortar on us each day. February 06 i was walking from my CHU to the DFAC for lunch and i heard a rocket scream over head at low altitude, sounded like a high performance jet, about the most startling sound I've ever heard.. a hot second later the KBR laundry facility went up in an incredibly loud boom, a huge ball of fire, smoke, dust and debris ...... was the first to the entrance, the place was in flames and lying about 20 feet in the inside the door was the body of this cute girl wearing a blue KBR t shirt, she was folded in half.. i don't believe or at least i tell myself she didn't suffer or felt stress. i still see her face, just a cute girl, kind of mulatto, pretty, just trying to make a living and support her family back in the islands. Shortly after the US brought in Strikers and they raged havoc on the area for several weeks. That was and remained a hot base. Never so glad when i was on Cat Fish Air out of that hole... occasionally like last night, she comes to visit me in my dreams
Pickleball – Part One
It’s eight o’clock, about any day
And it’s pickleball that I’ve come to play
I brought my paddle and I brought my drink
I’ll work on my drops and perfect my dinks
But sometimes my body just doesn’t obey
I tell my feet move but they tell me “stay”
When I need to bend over and I tell my back
It seems that bend over is a talent I lack
I’ll play any game, against any foe
And there one thing my partner should know
A ‘power’ game is just fine by me
So wish me good luck and sweet victory
Part Two
It’s yellow and plastic, and really acts spastic
Whenever the wind starts to gust
I line up a shot, it looks in then it’s not
In pickleball winds you can’t trust
So I serve and I volley, drop dinks and by golly
The points really start to add up
If I play the game so, then the wind it can blow
Those low shots it just can’t disrupt
I call out the score when I serve or before
First my point, then their points, one or two
No cussing, no in’, stay out of the kitchen
There’s really not much else to do
If they hit, hit it back, in defense or attack
Keeping the ball still in play
Do this time and again and you’ll earn a fine win
On any old kind of a day
But when the winds not in play on a hot summer day
I dink and I lob, wear them out
Hope they make a mistake so the point I can take
That’s what pickleball is all about
A man without a job
Had scarce to fill his gob
Scanning the press did See
Much work in jeopardy..'
So his pack; on back did lob.
He'd take train to short supply
Where time; was stacked up high.'
As a man of Limerick town
He was never feeling down
For t'was surely worth the try!
Hard to Forget
Earie the mournin I had the cock screw
At the aftunun, I washed the sunnin gay
Im just wanderin ova evrytin
Evry momen we shed in our useful days
Refrain
Hoe kan I stop to lovin ye (no...w)
Hoe kan I cease to make ye hapi
Hoe kan I resixt ye in ma laive (that's why)
I'll holeways loaf ye delhi
Steel remembrin when we melt
Steel remembrin tins we shed 2 gender
Hoe suit those day we spent worse
Hoe wail down memo lane to bring on the murder...
Refrain
I kan't just forgate evrytin...
I steel rememba well we melt
I steel rememba the time we shed
I steel rememba... evrytin evrytin
Refrain
So is tru the world is mall
I kan't beliv I fall in lob
Yeah I fall in and fet no same
Is there any crown in being in lob?
Very hard, very very hard
Hard to forget
Very hard, very very hard
Hard to forget
For I'm in love ooooo
This is hard to forgo.
For: Roy Jerden's Malapropisms and Mondegreens Contest
I am me!
I am beautiful greediest me!
I'm quite simply gigantic, enormous, colossal- bigantic!
I'm huge I'm not small I could fill Albert hall -
What a beautiful thing to be me.
I can eat a cake shop in one sitting
Forty boxes of chocs without quitting,
If I had half a mind to-
I could well be inclined to
-Start over again, food permitting.
They say I've no stomach to diet.
'Lazy lummock!' they scream. 'You must try it!'
I just laugh from my belly
Till it wobbles like jelly,
'Come on then,' I say, 'come and fry it!'
It is said I'm too lazy to chew.
It's an art, It's not easy to do.
I just open my gob
And with a flick and a lob-
Down the hatch, tallyho, toodaloo!
(With apologies to Ernest Lawrence Thayer, author of "Casey at the Bat".)
The Mudville nine and Casey have their chance for sweet revenge;
They play today in Dirtburg, their misfortune to avenge.
Two mighty Casey homers have us leading, five to four.
The bottom of the ninth arrives: three cheers for three outs more!
The lead-off slugger, Bugsy, flies to right: out number one.
But Smith and Jones both single; now the worrying’s begun.
So when our pitcher, Nelly, loads the bases with a walk,
In shaken insecurity we hush our hopeful talk.
We badly need a strikeout—better yet, a double play.
But cleanup batter Brutus may have something more to say.
Old Nelly sure looks nervous as he winds up for the pitch,
And Brutus eyes him coolly, and we see his muscles twitch.
And now our hearts stop beating as we hear the bat’s report.
And ahh, relief—we breathe again; he’s grounded straight to short!
The shortstop throws to second for the force: out number two.
The easy lob to first will end this rematch, right on cue.
The Dirtbag Coliseum is erupting in a din:
Uproarious cheers reverberate as Smith and Jones jog in.
The joyful, jubilant half-gibes behind each haughty face
Proclaim our Casey still a bum; he’s overthrown first base.
Have you ever wondered?
Being in an adult blunder
A reason for going to class
Besides the well-known intellectual pass
Is it to learn the alphabet?
Addition subtraction you may get
Going to the swing set for fun
After morning school work is done
Lessons get tougher
Recesses physical education play is rougher
Dissect a frog
Read the Odyssey Greek log
Experience another language like English Shakespeare
Experimenting wiping your first ‘in love’ tear
Relationships come along
Figuring out who is really in the wrong
Respecting alternative lives
Not giving a bother to the neighbors who are two husbands or wives
Going off to a higher level
Where some are angels others are devils
Sharing dorm rooms
Walking back from the library under the moon
Having a serious set back
And a fraternity support with a paddy whack
Sorority sisters are all right
Waiting for a passionate slobbery bite
Four years later you turn your tassel
Return to Mom and Dad’s castle
Food on the table
Free cable
First job
Is an easy lob
Getting a start
Pushing the mail cart
Reality has no happy hour
Invited to the executive lounge to be introduced to power
Boss gets nailed
You end up in jail
Who pays the bail?
Parents docking from a vacation sail
Life is cruel
Is the golden rule
Stay independent
Avoid resentment
Enjoy the short time here
By passing another six pack of Corona Beer
Spirit of the night
Spirit of the night soil man
Spirit of the night soil man is awake
Spirit of the night soil man is abroad,
Here, the emerging mystery, more a sinister from a
dungeon,
When twilight sat on sad rooftops,
Lurking eyes, creeping limbs in the damp backyards,
To Loo looking gunt in the gloomy moonlight
Where broiling broths in chamberpots and bedpans are
emptied.
A structure of planks led upstairs
Ushering to crouch in a crouching mode,
Over hot hole on the pedestial,
Displaying buttocks lob over poe
Began the winced and windy screeching sirocco,
Screaming complaining bass and solo guitars,
Can be irksome when catch unawares
Of habitual sacrificial ritual of defecating,
On other hand, when afflicted in fora,
Go gawky limping along all the way
Any convenience found,
Unleashed mixed vortex of dark diarrhoea,
Ascendancy of curl buxom python laid,
Windy circular terra-cotta thin rope
And from top, short brief beef cake grenade drop,
After, some bruisers clean with dry cardboard
Or old newspapers that headline "Hard Times"
All add up sure riches to wealth,
Well soughted out after in heap chest.
Shush Sushobhan,
she’s pushing her hand to my rock hard in the back of reception
your girl wowing at my fat long perfection,
I guess she thinks of you as rejection
after you spent a fortune forging affection,
less valued than my shlong.
Meanwhile slow and little brains porky pig
my circuit short twig tool of a boss is on an investigation
overpowered by resentment she gets my attention,
such minute intelligence reveals her intentions so evident,
I could read signs and tell of pending events,
whilst she's happy to believe I was unaware and dense.
I've cotton on to your rotten pong wanting me gone
and plotting for so long, me out witting miss puppet for the job,
accusations she'd lob
ridiculously smitten with my downfall,
now for your downfool…..
Think you’ve done better cus you ass lick more,
you’re brainy like a fruit basket whore,
That Greek bloke dumped you and not one man showed interest
it's because you’re a character men detest,
ugly with clothes on, mental scars undressed,
personality like a side dresser past it’s best,
beast and the beast misses fungal yeast,
walking around in a black suit putting yourself on the radar
put a helmet on your ugly face you’d be like Darth Vader,
no I mean,
a daft failure,
you think you're important
cus you're mentally dormant,
job performance level of slumber
dumb and dumbers dumb dumbster,
means, you are the dumbs dumped dumb stuff,
moustache and bum fluff, dog bark rough.
Let’s meet up again and see if you play those games,
now you’ve no title, see who reigns falls, up yours.
Dom and Georgia caught the bus,
And boarded it without a fuss.
Although the bus was bound for school
They found the journey rather cool.
Dom leapt on and found a seat.
He opened up a pack of sweets
And turning on his MP3
Yelled “Frasier, come and sit with me!”
Georgia, being more sedate
Settled down by her best mate
And chatted as the bus drove on,
Of last night’s homework and so on.
Dom and Frasier, being boys,
Were now creating quite noise.
And as the journey seemed quite slow,
They looked around for stuff to throw.
Tutting, Georgia shook her head
Wishing she was still in bed.
She wondered should she tell her mother
All about her naughty brother.
“Lob this at Tom!” and Frasier brandished
What looked like half a moldy sandwich.
I bet you a strawberry lace
That you can’t land it on his face.
“I’ll take that bet mate!” Dom said grinning
(Through the air the bread went spinning).
“I bet you a further fiver
You’ll never throw it at the driver!”
From the back there came a shout,
As Andy gave Marie a clout.
Responding to a double dare
Jack put gum in Mary’s hair.
While tony tried to count his feet
Alice pushed him from his seat,
And as she didn’t like his look
She also ate his science book.
The driver pulled the handbrake on
And shouted to the boisterous throng
“We’re here you lot, leave me alone!
I’ll see you on the way back home.”