Best Nattily Poems
I
An ode to the courageous hummingbird
The tiniest bird, but bravest of all
He flits about without saying a word,
When most unexpected he comes to call
Fluttering gossamer wings rapidly,
He graces the feeder in an instant
While hovering in usual fashion,
His colorful feathers preened nattily
The ruby at his throat most dominant
--Epitome of avian passion.
II
His coat glistens with iridescent hues
Most easily seen in the bright sunlight
He’s glaring at me from his fleeting views,
Interrupting his bold, erratic flight
I look back at him with determined poise
Enraptured by his slow backward retreat
With rare aplomb think him taken aback,
I hear his delightful low humming noise
As he refuses to admit defeat,
Comes quickly to my face, spiraling back.
III
Oh, sweet little fellow so loved and prized
Topic of bird-lovers conversation
Yet when you appear, I am so surprised
Enamored with your gay presentation,
Wanting to hold you to my gentle breast
To say I have made you my little friend
Your colorful beauty so astounds me,
So far surpassing Mother Nature’s best
Lovelier shades always make up your blend
Love you, hummingbird, my pleasure to see.
[NATURE]
Submitted to: "2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 2" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
June 15, 2022
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written April 28, 2022
Syllables check with HMS
written for "O Form - Ode - New Poems - Poetry Contest"
sponsored by Constance La France
#4 on BEST NEW POEMS LIST
Poetry Soup
May 27, 2022
...to Charlie Hebert, my father-in-law,
with respect and affection
Wind-swept and sun burnt alone on the fairway
he fusses and frets with his lie;
he's been here for ever commanding the course,
ever since you and I were knee high.
Golf is his passion, he lives and he breathes
for the chance to play just one more round,
replacing his divots, observing the rules
and keeping his feet on the ground.
Always nattily dressed he is ready
to tee up and go for the green;
the young guns are anxious to unseat old Chuck,
but he's crafty and wily and mean!
It's the day of the championship and he's all ready
to teach these young men how it's played;
at the turn he's ahead with a three under par,
he'll show them how great shots are made.
On the final hole two men are tied for the lead,
they are edgy as each eyes the pin;
Jim misses his putt, it goes wide to the left,
and Charlie makes par for the win!
CODA
In the clubhouse they congratulate the old boy on his score,
he thanks them from the bottom of his heart;
here's to Charlie then, to bunkers, to bad lies and to rain,
to another shot at glory when he climbs aboard the cart.
...to Charlie Hebert, with respect and affection
Wind-swept and sunburnt alone on the fairway
he fusses and frets with his lie;
he's been here for ever commanding the links
ever since you and I were knee high.
Golf is his passion, he lives and he breathes
for the chance to play just one more round,
replacing his divots, observing the rules
and keeping his feet on the ground.
Always nattily dressed he is ready
to tee up and go for the green;
the young guns are anxious to unseat old Chuck,
but he's crafty, and wily, and mean!
It's the day of the championship and he is ready
to teach these young men how it's played;
at the turn he's ahead with a three under par,
he will show them how great shots are made.
On the final hole two men are tied for the lead,
they are edgy as each eyes the pin;
Jim misses his putt, it goes wide to the left,
and Charlie makes par for the win!
CODA
In the clubhouse they congratulate the old boy on his score,
he thanks them from the bottom of his heart;
here's to Charlie then, to bunkers and to bad lies and to rain,
to another shot at glory when he climbs aboard the cart!
Wind-swept and sun burnt alone on the fairway
he fusses and frets with his lie;
he's been here for ever commanding the course,
ever since you and I were knee high.
Golf is his passion, he lives and he breathes
for the chance to play just one more round,
replacing his divots, observing the rules
and keeping his feet on the ground.
Always nattily dressed he is ready
to tee up and go for the green;
the young guns are anxious to unseat old Chuck,
but he's crafty and wily and mean!
It's the day of the championship and he's all ready
to teach these young men how it's played;
at the turn he's ahead with a three under par,
he'll show them how great shots are made.
On the final hole two men are tied for the lead,
they are edgy as each eyes the pin;
Jim misses his putt, it goes wide to the left,
and Charlie makes par for the win!
CODA
In the clubhouse they congratulate the old boy on his score,
he thanks them from the bottom of his heart;
here's to Charlie then, to bunkers, to bad lies and to rain,
to another shot at glory when he climbs aboard the cart.
Last Modified: September 03, 2015 at 09:06 am
© bickerstaffe - all rights reserved
Author Notes
...to Charles E. Hebert Jr, my father-in-law and patient golf instructor! May he Rest In Peace.
...to my grandfather, Charlie Hebert,
with respect and affection RIP
Wind-swept and sunburnt alone
on the course he fusses and frets
with his lie; he's been here for ever
commanding the links, ever since
you and I were knee high.
Golf is his passion, he lives and he
breathes for the chance to play just
one more round, replacing his divots,
observing the rules and keeping
his feet on the ground.
Always nattily dressed he is ready
to tee up and go for the green;
the young guns are anxious to unseat
old Charlie, but he's crafty
and wily and mean.
It's the day of the championship
and he's all set to teach those young men
how to play; at the turn he's ahead
with a three under par, he'll show them
how great shots are made.
On the final hole two men are tied
for the lead, they are edgy as each
eyes the pin; Jim misses his putt,
it goes wide to the left, and Charlie
makes par for the win.
In the clubhouse they congratulate
the old boy on his score, he thanks them
from the bottom of his heart;
here's to Charlie then, to bunkers,
to bad lies and to rain, to another shot at glory
when they climb aboard the cart!
Listlessly he feeds the pigeons,
strutting proudly in the park;
kicking at an empty coke can,
gravity has left its mark.
Nattily attired he's one of
many other CEOs
high atop the corporate ladder,
highly thought of, (what a pose!)
Tired of mergers, acquisitions,
weary of the daily stress;
where's the joy, the satisfaction,
where's the bliss of happiness?
Hamptons cottage never lived in,
cabin cruiser barely used;
his wife's begun divorce proceedings,
claims that she has been abused.
Son and daughter - Utah, Texas,
never sees them anymore;
dad's too busy making millions,
economics, what a bore!
Who'd have thought a Wharton graduate
with a double PhD
would spend his lunch hour feeding pigeons,
kicking coke cans listlessly.
In his three-room penthouse office
with a prospect of Times Square
he seals another hefty contract,
he has lost the will to care.
BLACK BEAUTY
One sunny afternoon
Mooching about the streets to kill time,
Lo and behold! What did I see?
A damsel
A very pretty damsel walking the streets alone.
She had dark oily skin which glittered conspicuously
Under the espy of the hot sun
Her skin was without blemish and
Was as smooth as the sands of the Sahara.
She was nattily dressed in a blue-black gown
And a necklace of pearls was dangling from her neck.
She walked daintily about like a springbok
And had long graceful legs
And very piercing eyes.
By Jove!
This pretty damsel was the cynosure of all eyes
Even a sightless man would have been thrilled by her beauty
A monk would have forgotten his monastic vows
And fall for her charm on sighting her
For her beauty was beyond words.
I was held spell-bound by her beauty
She put me in a state of perpetual delirium
And immediately I wished she was mine
But then she was somebody elses'.
Everything’s a little worn
a little tired like a well loved bunny.
Androgyny’s the norm
no one flaunts their money.
Gnarled trees leap toward
a brilliant white sun
Christmas lights trickle
from the branches of everyone.
On flecked granite doorsteps
workers, beggars, bikers sprawl
behind barred windows
in flamboyant flower stalls.
Fast fingers caress keyboards
of Apple’s laptop best
Google’s employees await buses
all nattily dressed.
And the nighttime, the nighttime
when neon like fireflies bloom
that’s when those who are anyone
hoist mugs and sing tunes…
...to Charlie Hebert, (RIP), my father-in-law,
with respect and affection
Wind-swept and sunburnt alone on the fairway
he fusses and frets with his lie;
he's been here for ever commanding the course,
ever since you and I were knee high.
Golf is his passion, he lives and he breathes
for the chance to play just one more round,
replacing his divots, observing the rules
and keeping his feet on the ground.
Always nattily dressed he is ready
to tee up and go for the green;
the young guns are anxious to unseat old Chuck,
but he's crafty and wily and mean!
It's the day of the championship and he's all ready
to teach these young men how to play;
at the turn he's ahead with a three under par,
he'll show them, he'll have the last say!
On the final hole two men are tied for the lead,
they are edgy as each eyes the pin;
Jim misses his putt, it goes wide to the left,
and Charlie makes par for the win!
CODA
In the clubhouse they congratulate the old boy on his score,
he thanks them from the bottom of his heart;
here's to Charlie then, to bunkers, to bad lies and to rain,
to another shot at glory when he climbs aboard the cart!
...to Charlie Hebert, my father-in-law,
with respect and affection
Wind-swept and sunburnt alone on the fairway
he fusses and frets with his lie;
he's been here for ever commanding the course,
ever since you and I were knee high.
Golf is his passion, he lives and he breathes
for the chance to play just one more round,
replacing his divots, observing the rules
and keeping his feet on the ground.
Always nattily dressed he is ready
to tee up and go for the green;
the young guns are anxious to unseat old Chuck,
but he's crafty and wily and mean!
It's the day of the championship and he's all ready
to teach these young men how it's played;
at the turn he's ahead with a three under par,
he'll show them how great shots are made.
On the final hole two men are tied for the lead,
they are edgy as each eyes the pin;
Jim misses his putt, it goes wide to the left,
and Charlie makes par for the win!
CODA
In the clubhouse they congratulate the old boy on his score,
he thanks them from the bottom of his heart;
here's to Charlie then, to bunkers, to bad lies and to rain,
to another shot at glory when they climb aboard the cart!
Listlessly he feeds the pigeons,
strutting proudly in the park;
kicking at an empty coke can,
gravity has left its mark.
Nattily attired he's one of
many other CEOs
high atop the corporate ladder,
highly thought of, such a pose.
Bored with mergers, acquisitions,
weary of the daily stress;
where's the joy, the satisfaction,
where's the bliss of happiness?
Hamptons cottage never lived in,
cabin cruiser barely used;
his wife's begun divorce proceedings,
claims that she has been misused.
Children living with no love,
he never sees them anymore;
he's too busy making millions,
economics is his score.
Who'd have thought a Wharton graduate
with a double PhD
would spend his lunch hour feeding pigeons,
kicking coke cans endlessly.
In his spacious penthouse office
with a prospect of Times Square
he seals another hefty contract,
he has lost the will to care.
The Price
Listlessly he feeds the pigeons,
strutting proudly in the park;
kicking at an empty coke can,
gravity has left its mark.
Nattily attired he's one of
many other CEOs
high atop the corporate ladder,
highly thought of, (what a pose!)
Tired of mergers, acquisitions,
weary of the daily stress;
where's the joy, the satisfaction,
where's the bliss of happiness?
Hamptons cottage never lived in,
cabin cruiser barely used;
his wife's begun divorce proceedings,
claims that she has been abused.
Son and daughter - Utah, Texas,
never sees them anymore;
dad's too busy making millions,
economics, what a bore!
Who'd have thought a Wharton graduate
with a double PhD
would spend his lunch hour feeding pigeons,
kicking coke cans listlessly.
In his three-room penthouse office
with a prospect of Times Square
he seals another hefty contract,
he has lost the will to care.
Here he comes
That little man
Nattily dressed
Spick and span
His funny accent
A dead giveaway
He won't get me
No, not today!
He's clever though
But not more than I
He does not know
How much I lie
I've tricked him well
For years and years
He thinks I'm thick
Wet 'tween the ears
It suits me well
To play the stooge
While on the side
My crimes are huge
Gold and jewels
My stock in trade
I'm light fingered
Fortunes I've made
So I play the game
A friend of Poirot
I am Hastings...
Poirots' my foe
Minnekhada .
My China Girl
-------------------
Yesterday
Brought to me an exquisite, exotic China Girl, from Beijing.
Yesterday an adventure in Minnekhada, - my spirit did sing
with joy at her kind,open heart - as her delightful soul did bring
into this beautiful B.C. day, a glimpse, as I watched her, in wonder
at Mother Nature, in all her fall splendor, Salmon spawning under
blue skies, a black Bear, and there I knew nothing could tear asunder
the moments shared, those Innocent looks, the holding of hands
as we explored - China Girl, for the first time - these tranquil lands
of Minnekhada, showing off all her natural beauty.
A moment in time with China Girl ( Nattily ) and all her, inner beauty.
Today
And I think of the Polish Princess, and all that was missed,
all she never gave, from her heart, not even, in passion, was I kissed.
And I now wonder ?, what China Girl, might have in store for me.
Will she be ?, - I am not so sure - as the Princess, ( easy to see ).
B. J. "A" 2
November 4th 2009
...to Charlie Hebert, my father-in-law,
with respect and affection
Wind-swept and sunburnt alone on the fairway
he fusses and frets with his lie;
he's been here for ever commanding the course,
ever since you and I were knee high.
Golf is his passion, he lives and he breathes
for the chance to play just one more round,
replacing his divots, observing the rules
and keeping his feet on the ground.
Always nattily dressed he is ready
to tee up and go for the green;
the young guns are anxious to unseat old Chuck,
but he's crafty and wily and mean!
It's the day of the championship and he's all ready
to teach these young men how it's played;
at the turn he's ahead with a three under par,
he'll show them how great shots are made.
On the final hole two men are tied for the lead,
they are edgy as each eyes the pin;
Jim misses his putt, it goes wide to the left,
and Charlie makes par for the win!
CODA
In the clubhouse they congratulate the old boy on his score,
he thanks them from the bottom of his heart;
here's to Charlie then, to bunkers, to bad lies and to rain,
to another shot at glory when they climb aboard the cart!