Best Maitre D Poems
Flight of stillness;
idle,
ditch-wise.
Ladders point up
but they say the ground is greater;
sunlight knitting to their brown feet green socks.
They crestfall and
buckle at the knee.
Hear guts clap thunder off somewhere else
but no storm in sight to maitre d' this mesa;
got to rot the mud lest
an urge to ripen ripens.
But hear now
the locusts flood this rut,
hunt for want,
impelled to eat each lunch of your decay.
Earth uncorks her pores.
you drift upon the grass, lift the damp from the sod
like a pillow of cloud sopping Earth's steam-
to be made the steward of this land;
lightning
flash! ladders
shatter!
Pay in full the cost of water,
less labors not yet lost.
We set sail as Reggae music played out on the Lido.
Our first night was casual; no need for tuxedo.
We could eat a pizza by the Windows On the Sea
or go beneath and dine on shrimp and meet the maitre d’
We could gamble, see a show, or just gaze at the ocean,
then in bed, relax the head and sense the soothing motion.
We woke up in Freeport where the ship would dock all day.
Folks could disembark, take tours, or on the ship just stay.
On board were people lounging or dancing to Calypso,
working out or shopping or even playing Bingo.
All day long you could find folks doing funny things
like contests for the men with hairy chests or knobby knees.
Day Two when we awoke, we were then in Nassau.
There was stuff for everyone, from your kiddies to your grandma!
Little ones could stay behind. The staff would entertain them,
or the kids could tag along with mom and dad. No problem!
Those who liked adventure could visit Blue Lagoon.
For snorkeling with sting rays, the boat left right at noon.
I got to pet a dolphin, but extra had to pay
to swim with one! That was sure an extra special day.
In town I got nabbed quickly by a plaza beautician.
Getting braids was all the rage, so people got their hair done.
We went to the gangway before the ship set sail.
Those not having fun by then were deader than a door nail.
“Day at Sea” arrived as the trip was winding down,
and the biggest night was coming; women wore a gown.
That final evening getting all dolled up to dine was when
I wished instead of ending, the trip would start again!
Gals and guys with braided hair; everyone looked nice.
Ah, the midnight feast with pretty sculptures carved in ice.
The ultimate for having fun unless you were just snoozing,
in the laid-back natives’ lingo, I say “Mon,” I sure loved that cruising.
(may not be following precise time line, but this was before year 2000 that I took my one and only cruise, so I'm a bit fuzzy on precise day by day details. it was a Carnival cruise only 3 to 4 days in Bahamas and back to Florida)
Feb. 1, 2022
for "My Favorite Vacation In Rhyme" Poetry Contest of L. Milton Hankins
Clyde found a fly floundering in his soup
This discovery threw him for a loop
He summoned the maitre d'
And that pompous ass, said he
"Don't worry! He'll die if he eats that goop!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
There are so many talented poetesses and poets
waiting patiently in the long PSoup line
Each got an able, ready pen in their hand,
and some expressive, creative thoughts in their head
It’s worth the wait to get some of that special poetry bread,
which is visually waiting to be eaten ...
exotic, existential food
that warms the heart before you go to bed
Mystic Rose and Broken Wings,
I love how their words dance and how their emotions sing
Connie and Eileen,
two strong women who knows how to make you come clamoring
to read their rich, satisfying musing
Daniel T. and Charlie,
two poet chefs with keen culinary skills,
they can cook up some savory prose meals
Probir and Chris G.,
two of the best PSoup romantic maitre d’
serving up delicious love poetry
Maria, Lisa and Nette,
a trio of talented poetesses who’ll get your appetite whet,
their introspective appetizers are the best
Lin, Cheryl and Sunshine Smile,
another trio set whose sweet poetry aromatic style
wafts on the wind for miles
Andrea, Catie and Janis,
do these triplet creative pens ever rest?
Phil C., Dean W., Akkina and Alexis Y.,
brothers and sisters whose poetic stars shine in the night sky
There are countless other pen bright stars whose auroras I see each day,
far too many for me to individually say
But when I read their poems ... the intimate thoughts they share,
I become more wiser in my heart and head
In fact it tastes so good, down to the last bite that’s read:
I always have to get back in the PSoup line
for another serving of that scrumptious poetry bread
All aboard the Fantasy M/S of Carnival
for half a week’s vacation time of fun and falderal.
Hear greetings from your captain, his director and the crew.
Ready, set, get going. The Bahamas wait for you.
Bon Voyage! There’s Reggae music playing on the Lido.
Dinner is at 6 or 8. Hold off on that tuxedo!
You could eat a pizza by the Windows On the Sea
or go beneath to dine on shrimp and meet the maitre d’.
Gamble or see comedy; reflect upon the ocean.
Late to bed; relax your head; sense the soothing motion.
Rise and shine in Freeport where the ship will dock all day.
You can disembark to take a tour, or you can stay.
On board the ship, take a dip; lounge or dance Calypso.
Get yourself massaged; work out, shop or play some bingo.
All day long, you can find folks doing funny things
like contests for the men with hairy chests or knobby knees.
Day two when you waken, you will be in Nassau.
There’s stuff for everyone, from your kiddies to your grandma!
Little ones may stay behind. Folks will entertain them,
or the kids can tag along with the adults. No problem!
If you like adventure, visit lovely Blue Lagoon.
For snorkeling with sting rays, the boat leaves right at noon.
You can pet some dolphins, but extra you should pay
if you want to swim with them. That’s one special day.
In town you might be nabbed by a plaza beautician.
Getting braids is all the rage, so people get their hair done.
Get back to the gangway before the ship sets sail.
If you‘re still not having fun, you must be a door nail!
“Day at Sea” arrives as your trip is winding down,
And the biggest night is coming; women wear a gown!
That final evening dining perhaps with a new friend,
you’ll wish instead of ending, it were starting all again.
Gals and guys with braided scalps; everyone looks nice.
Ah, that midnight feast with pretty sculptures carved in ice.
The ultimate for leisure if you’re after more than snoozing’.
In the laid-back natives lingo: “Mon, you best be cruising!”
NOTE: (this describes a vacation I took about 12 years ago, my first
and probably last cruise ever, unless I come into money. haha.
I'd seen Europe in my youth but as vacations go,this truly was
the best one.)
For Carol Brown's Contest: "It's Time for a Vacation"
Gardens – After Dark
Buddha sits stoically observing his garden.
The Gnomes snore as the Fairies toss and turn
asleep on the soft petals of flowers. The impish
Pixies party with the flashy fireflies.
Nocturnal seekers. Mice, forever paranoid,
scurry to and fro in a break even carbohydrate burn.
The raccoons, mask-wearing felons, are more direct.
They have already “cased the joint” and are sure of their objective.
Le Skunk, “but of course”, Pepe LePew, he fears no one,
boldly waves his white stripe, slowly peruses the menu.
Monsieur Owl, something of a Maitre d’, oversees the
dining arrangements - while planning his own.
The first hint of sunshine will trigger “last call,
dew will form on the flower petals awakening the Fairies.
Fireflies will drop the pixies at their three story walk-ups.
Gnomes will snort, stretch, and scratch themselves.
A gentle breeze will cue the wind chime.
The Buddha yawns, the birds sing morning prayers.
6/20/2016
submitted to – Little People – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Shadow Hamilton
At precisely 6:45 each morning
the house, it starts to shake
I don't need a clock
Oh no, for godness sake...
Big Ol' Redneck Piggly Wiggly
goes roaring off to war
I thing I'd rather listen
To seven people snore
His truck must use a jet-engine
And top grade jet fuel too
Just where he works I wonder
But i think I have a clue
When he comes home I
go just as insane...
He roars in like a 747
Landing on that tiny landing lane
Lumberjack? Hunter on attack?
Construction worker who needs no tool.
I'm sure he could lift a jetliner
Or maybe I'm again the fool
I'm rather sure, I swear
I'd bet my derriere
No Maitre' D is he...
No Physicist do I there see
Not an MD, mailman, or
salesman...unless he sells
chopped wood...
Maybe a Moonshiner perhaps,
Now that'd be oh so good
I'm ashamed to talk this way
Cause I'm no dandy either
Imagine what he'll say
Of me, no I can't either...
Don't judge a TV show
By critics who critique
They often don't really know
And I guess that's not unique
They've never watched I know
Just ad-lib it as they go...
I think I'd better end
this silly, silly rhyme
I don't know why I do it
I just do it all the time
I hope you're not too mad
If I seem to have a cause,..mm...mm
And that I didn't show myself
to be one with adnauseam...
We ascertain pleasure in reliving our past,
Though lurking matters often bankrupt our day;
For that portion of living in chronicles is cast,
This content can't change much to our dismay.
We justify retrieve as value to years emerging,
That beyond this day's history we will refrain.
Our subconscious is active with incessant urging,
For it realizes we shan't pass this way again.
Life, like a Maitre d', usually delivers what we order;
But unlike the meal we pay for life after we exit.
Tom
the noose around my neck only a little colorful scarf on my last day as a slave
to the chefs always screaming their short comings as it's never the fault of the pressure cooker of the kitchen
to managers revolving the doors and telling you are call waiter as you have to wait for the couple that forgot to get a room as they gross you out with their display
an hour or more for the worst tip of the night as they are here to push your buttons
the maitre D as I told them to change their tune if to collect a percentage of your earning and to be sued ask you to finish his job as he is leaving to catch his train on clockwork schedule every night
the next day the computer was fixed with a new tittle and not a thanks from general management to save their ass from a lawsuit as I heard rumors of protest
the bartender an other story as drug dealers you have to bow to them or they will make your life difficult and suck as otherwise your customers will have to wait for their needs
the owners mostly absent only showing their faces to collect do not know the ordeal
as in the past they forgot to declare you and their earnings everything under the table but them protected you are the one suffering the consequence of retirement as you show zero on your social security number for years and never paid hourly toil dusting the chairs and the what not if only mouse **** I though I had a deal with them to pay my taxes and I will be all right
took me two years to amend their lies as they though I was a wet back with fake identity
but still those years show as zero as they didn't pay their due to the government for the welfare of old age but their own
to the clients as they are the redemption of many fun night
with the exchange of words to make a meal memorable
that is what made my job worthwhile as I had a chance to meet many stars enjoying my back serve
black pants white shirt I could tell you so many stories of encounter
You know him
This man you never met
You know him
You've seen that walk before,
the cool, confident stride
You've seen that smile before,
perfect white teeth
with a grin a mile wide
You know him
This man you never met
You know him
You've heard that voice before,
the ultra-cool smooth cadence
You've seen those clothes before,
gator shoes, leather pants
and a silk shirt diamond laden
Oh, you know him,
you know him for sure
This man you never met
has you checking your memory once more
You've witnessed this entrance before,
fur coat draped over a chiseled arm
You saw this kind of heads turning before,
maitre d' running like he heard a fire alarm
Yes, you know him
This man you never met
What you don't understand
is how you could ever forget
The mouse lives a simple life
Eating out for free
'The a la carte menu please'
He tells the maitre d
He orders chocolate biscuits
Some tasty dried fruit too
And you know when he's about
By the little pile of poo
He sleeps where it is cosy
And ventures out at night
He sniffs his way to food
And keeps hidden out of sight
But mice should live in gardens
Not behind skirting boards
They live in huge great families
Like little warrior hordes.
So if you see a mousey
Make sure he goes outside
All he wants is warmth and food
And a quiet place to hide
My spouse and I were ushered to our table by the Maitre d'.
We noticed right off that it was strangely quiet as could be!
Zombies sat at their tables, heads bowed as if in meditation.
Many with glazed eyes as if in la la land under sedation!
I noticed that each held a small gadget in hand,
And deft thumbs clicked away to beat the band!
Each was 'texting' oblivious to family and friends.
Concentrating only on their 'receivings' and 'sends'!
Conversation was limited to an occasional, "Pass the salt, please!"
I was fearful of being tossed out of the place should I dare sneeze!
I mused, "Will future generations learn to text before they can walk?
Lord have mercy! Will kids in the future even know how to talk!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
The Pilgrim told the Maitre d
I’ve had too much, no more for me
The food was great, the fruit was ripe
I’ll take a hit off of that pipe
“I’d like to dance”, said the Indian girl
The lad was shy and white as pearl
The fire lit the forest floor
The drums played late, they yelled for more
The elder pilgrim told the Chief
We love your land beyond belief
We mean well now and wish you health
But those that follow may want your wealth
The Chief sat back, eyes to the night
We know they’re coming but we are tight
Feast with us now, enjoy the living
This party will be known as the “First Thanksgiving”
They partied on like family close
The elders rose to give a toast
We thank you Lord for this fine day
We know tomorrow will be what may
You incite me
You're exciting
Are you providing a sheltered love?
No objection
I need your thoughtful care
I enjoy you more and more each day
Delicious affection a heavenly constellation
Confetti ready
Drowning in celebration
Raw winged spell bound
Roaring anticipation
Michel Angelo Sistine
The ceiling how appealing
Becoming undone at the seams
I'm straightening when ever I
Lean in to hear you whisper
Intensifying breaths of roses
I am pouring this love out to you
In desperation, episodes of heart
Pounding contemplation
Fluttering hearts contagion
Of sonnet say it seductively
Am I your royal joy?
I will not faulter in this
Honor I am your Roy Roy
You are the maitre d' of me.
Enjoy be clever and thinly coy
Diligently love me free.
Coiffed petals glad tidings tell
Vintage red cup raised to the sun
Whose heat mellows hearth's veil
Enticing host signals feast hath begun
Aromatic vial with sweet scents stew
Hypnotizing fumes already suitors cue
Maitre d' winged banqueters will review
Whizzing minstrels waft toward rendezvous
Arriving guests with sweet libations do woo
Neon-draped Bumble bees enter flickering buzzing strobes
Metallic Green bees browse corridor; each succulent scent probes
Ebony-caped, Wasp beetle antenna fondles light, delicate lobes
Orange, sequined Monarch butterflies prate in paper machete robes
Salivating, virile male patrons imbibe freely from nectar fount
Nubile, female matrons nibble heartier fair; pollen from stamen mount