Best Piston Poems
two boys racing
dash, dart, tear
airburst in a clearing punched open
arms of piston pumping disperse white funnels
dandelion fluff curling
scattering flowered stems
as water streaked, streams down joyful faces
clearing,
a clawed out seclusion
child claimed freedom unspooling in summer heat
pulling back its gauzy veil
pushed to disarray
in this seething space, holding promise
two boys, breath weary, tumble into the tall grass
laugh and roll,
confessions shared like wanting to drift somewhere
- imaginary to real
claiming turf needing no repair
stories whispered before they're pushed off the page
in a green clearing, its window-heavy future
till tall tales take a different slant
to rest like beaded sweat
upon lined brows
Poem composed February 21, 2023
Categories:
piston, childhood, environment, freedom, future,
Form:
Free verse
From Edinburgh’s Waverley to Kings Cross
At journey's rest before terminating chaos,
Winding through the serene countryside
Spying a glimpse of the North Sea tide,
Rolling along in my soul a rhythmic song
Dismissing the world and all that’s wrong,
At our head the streamline ‘Silver Link’
Amazing speed pressure gauge to the brink,
There I was with pad and my faithful pen
A number one hit it was way back then.
‘Mighty engine wayward theme
Piston rods ejecting steam
Vibrant alive this the motion
From city town to the ocean
Feeling now the huff and puff
Screaming whistle growls and guff
Enduring rhyme upon the track
Rhythm of the clickity clack.’
Flying Scotsman express service between
London and Edinburgh and vice versa,,
Silver Link one of the 32 A4 Pacific locomotives
that pulled the express the 396 miles non stop
at speeds of 110 to 120 mph and this the 1930's
© Harry J Horsman 2015
Categories:
piston, nostalgia,
Form:
Rhyme
Maybe it’s unacceptable
Live a life capable of a true fable
True friends never end
But take you back to where it all began
But hey misery gave us something to believe in
Stress became a greater award as we achieved sin
What could I say? Our savior died on a cross tough as pig skin
Never once cried over the loss
Forbidden fruit, Eden garden
Excuse me, my lord, I beg your pardon
And so what if these medics carry life in a carton
But I ain’t trippin
Simply because this is me until my dying day
Please stop crying, you know I can’t stay
I’m going to be the same until my dying day
Over in that casket is where I’m trying to lay
That’s right until my dying day
True lost souls from the dark side
Forever, we as mortals ride
Peace is nothing, I fend for quiet time
Rebels in riot lines
Previous high school graduates
Symbols of an adjective running toward fate
True personality suffer the privilege of inmates
How could you hesitate to ask
There’s no stranger under this mask
Lonely and unholy, who’s there to console me?
I want to get away, forever restless
You can see my similarities with the ocean
I’m stress less
Because this is me until my dying day
Please stop crying, you know I can’t stay
I’m going to be the same until my dying day
Over in that casket is where I’m trying to lay
My son, my friend
We are but pieces of eternity
Mesh on, mesh off
Even at our best times we’re soft
Who’s to say I’d regret my decision
To lead a sinners life without God’s supervision
On a one man mission
And I know I don’t come around much
Got my palms in reality
Searching for something softer to touch
Whisper in my ear, death makes me blush
And Hell only flatters me
One and one, through matter the winds scatter me
I ain’t trippin, baby girl get off your knees
You’re in the arms of a future me
And I can’t see heaven from a distance
Fire me over clouds like a piston
Marching through blood
But it’s all mud and water to Darkhouse
Stand still let me mark my spouse
Live my life as an outcast
How could you even picture me at my last?
Dear lord show some mercy on my followers
Bless those that swallow dust to follow us
No need to borrow sympathy
Unforgiving sorrow made my enemies envy me
Categories:
piston, death, family, friendship, lost
Form:
Free verse
Sticking your key in me
Goes straight to my battery
Then my starter starts spinning
Sending sparks to my ignition
Your gas goes into my carburetor
Causing an explosion in my piston well
When you press on my accelerator
That makes me move faster
When you turn me over in the morning
You always signal first
You make my eyes bright with delight
But when it rains
You wipe my tears away
You make me sing when you play with my CD
Please don't STOP
My check engine light needs turning on
My engine isn't HOT! enough
(Making it clear this is a girl car, lol)
Categories:
piston, metaphor, sensual,
Form:
Free verse
Once upon a time I could change the oil and give the car a lube,
Tune the timing, change the plugs and patch an inner tube.
In days of yore I'd do simple jobs beneath the old elm tree.
Nowadays, I daren't twist a wrench without an engineer's degree!
In olden days things were simple to work on beneath the hood.
Stuff crammed under the hoods today is not at all understood!
Why! You must pull the doggone engine to fix a simple leak,
And everything is diagnosed by a smart-alecky computer geek!
Now I can't even locate the spark plugs, I must humbly confess,
And where the life-sustaining battery reposes is anybody's guess!
I must even contact the local garage to get the radiator filled.
'Tis plain to see that all is governed by the national mechanic's guild!
In simpler times the way to detect an errant rod and piston knock,
Was to put a screwdriver to your ear and listen through the block.
Nowadays, technicians lounge about with computers in their paws,
And in a trice can flesh out your automobile's ailing flaws!
Back then, I could replace brake linings and distributor caps,
Change a fan belt or replace a gasket or two perhaps.
But all these fancy gadgets are beyond me - I can't figure them out.
So I'll gnash my teeth and sit beneath the spreading elm and pout!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
piston, funnychange,
Form:
Rhyme
hell fire desires running wild
like a passion driven hot rod with burning tires
scorching licks of frenzied lust
whip raw touches that spontaneously self combust
pressurized slowness yielding euphoric smoke with every thrust
finger flicking flickery teasing and pleasing pink pleasures
peeping erotic natures in search of lost wet treasures
hardy hints of intense mixed sexual scents
resurrects the untamed within to go instinctively hell bent
standing tall like a hairy savage walking erect
smooth cruise control piston pumping action
X-rated planet transmitting listen to deep space orgasmic satisfaction
naughty nude bodies being slapped by massive tide waves of ecstasy
forever love fantasies pulverized into countless particles
and scattered across the endless galaxies
extreme tenderness under a ripe mythological moon
indulge on each others spirits using a soul stealing spoon
Categories:
piston, desire, food, love, lust,
Form:
Rhyme
Adieu the king,
Long live the king:
The crown was in the grove
Where his forebears dwell
In their majestic transfiguration;
There he would inherit the fiat,
The power to say and to be;
In the grove of royal tutorial
Where prince became king
Where ancient secrets were learnt
The tryst of the dead and the living
Forest of rite of accession.
There fortune anointed me,
Made venus’s heart my portion:
The royal heiress smiled at me,
Her eyelids blinked and blinked,
Like fire fighters’ ambluance,
Her boby moving ups and downs
Like a piston of new brand auto
As she nailed her eyes on me
She made my spot her path
By my side she offered me wine
In a royal calabash of symbol
And laid her hand on me
Like a bed spread on yielding matress
Instantly I woke from my slumber
Like a chameleon rewinding back its tongue
And she piloted me to the chamber
In the interior of the royal
Where many games were offered;
Ludo and chess I did not play,
But played love with my princess;
Sure the gods are wise:
A night in the royal grove,
Remains love of my life.
Categories:
piston, love, spiritual,
Form:
Verse
on behalf of the little guy
deep behind enemy territory
welcome to the nameless republic
all good capitalists want a monopoly
all good physicians need you sick
the National Antidote Party broke down the door
I told them everything I know
so they let me off the meat hook
loosened my bindings and necktie
hammered nails in my head instead
powerful radio transmitter nails
don't get too close I'll bend your spoon
gimme a shot of Moonbeam barkeep
and a round for my ill-bandaged crew
we'll drink to the muse Pandemonia
don't get too close she’ll bend yer crank
with another specious spectacle
not necessarily Beauty's anointed
but a piston riding party girl nonetheless
I let you touch happy place
and now my theory on the blinding of Oedipus
which first off requires a family unit
for the inherent predispositions of childbirth
they made me walk upon magic carpet tacks
so me and my echo are here a little late
and a little paraplegic and screaming headaches
this is after all a holy epic of pilgrimage
from the sands of Delirium to the banks of Delusia
a simultaneous ambiance one for each eye
an ancient art form somewhat updated
coordinating the cascades of impulses
yet still black as the inside of a cow I mean crow
this epic deals with a touchy subject
intercession of the gods
grab your hat mister
we're going for a little joy ride
where anything including countries
can be bought sold and stolen
by the mutilators of comparison
hardwired and proud of it the fools
built for Survival the TV show
but times change and
survival meant finding parking
where one can escalate from emaciation
to farting obesity overnight
unrecognized even when brightly illuminated
we know only one thing for certain
that the Universe is knowable
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
Categories:
piston, how i feel, universe,
Form:
Free verse
Rednecks make parts in the basement
They've mastered piston emplacement
They'll bore out a block
To be bigger than stock
Displacement has no replacement
Author's note. A really great guy in the office has a classic '67 Firebird
that will go really fast and has fun taking it to car shows in the area.
This is part of American culture. Yahoooo!
Categories:
piston, home, house, humor, identity,
Form:
Limerick
Face fractured with fear
As the Taxi drew near
The building was in the next street
" I'll drop you off here"
Said Steve full of cheer
(Annoyingly rather upbeat.)
As you pushed on the door
It's sticky hinge hissed
And you drew in your breath
At the scent of 'dentist'
"Youre a little late" the lady said
Do you live somewhere rural ?
You swigged on your hip flask
Looked her right in the eye, saying
"Just get me an epidural."
"Now now Mrs Phillips
You'll be just fine "
Said the lady so white and starched
And into the chamber of old magazines,
You were unceremoniously marched.
With Your heart like a piston
And blood pressure soaring
(Even " Horse and Hound" seemed
Tired and boring )
Lulled by a clock counting out every second,
Till you started with fright
As a dental nurse beckoned ...
"Please don't worry, don't be so tense "
Said Helga ( on work experience )
And then with sinister gravity
Said "We'll take care of that cavity "
"Hello" boomed a voice from the back of the room,
I'm here to do your extraction. I've done them before so no need to shake,
Look at me if you need a distraction "
"This won't take a second, it's all pretty simple
Just a couple of jabs and we're there "
So first with your right fist and then with your left,
He was out cold, on the floor, by your chair.
You ripped off your bib, took a swig of the pink
And suddenly feeling much better,
You lunged for the door and ran down the stairs
As fast as a sprightly red setter.
You ran to a sweet shop and asked for some toffee
"Give me the chewiest stuff that you've got"
"Sure said the assistant , this one's from Yorkshire
And here, you can have the lot "
You took of the wrappers and stuffed it all in
Then chewed like a donkey on acid
And in a few seconds, the tooth that was hurting
Left a hole as big as Lake Placid.
So what is the moral
I hear you all ask
Of this tale both of triumph and sorrow ?
Well forget your insurance, leave your cheque book at home,
Just unwrap and chew on a toffo
Categories:
piston, health, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
The Perfect Circle Plant was where most kids went to work as a general rule,
To begin a life of donkeywork upon graduation from the local school.
I dreamed of things far beyond the horizon like visitin' Rome or Istanbul,
Not a life of drudgery in the plant or plowin' corn behind a ploddin' mule!
I suppose I could've gone to work there, married and had a flock of kids,
But such a mundane life would've driven me to booze, landin' me on the skids!
They made expansion rings and such for airplanes, ships and tanks.
Not for me! I chose the Air Force! For that I've always given thanks!
While I enjoyed the beauty of Bermuda (where I 'fought' the Korean War),
My peers were waitin' for quittin' time, performin' their borin' chore!
I reckon they made about five bucks an hour turnin' out expansion rings.
I only made a hundred bucks a month, but it paid for my youthful flings!
I just couldn't see myself turnin' nuts and bolts and payin' union dues,
Or catchin' hell from the ol' lady for stoppin' by the pub for some brews!
While I was dinin' on steak and sippin' Tom Collins' at the Plantation House,
My pals back home were eatin' meatloaf and listenin' to their spouse's grouse!
I hasten to say that the Perfect Circle Plant provided my friends with needed work,
But operatin' a planer or lathe eight hours a day would've driven me berserk!
Should I have taken Dad's advice and hired on at the plant had I to do it over?
Nah! I wanted to get off the farm and leave the county 'cause I'm an avid rover!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
piston, funny, work, life, me,
Form:
Rhyme
As you cruise along the interstate in your ultra-sleek sedan,
You should ever keep in mind a little-known engineering man.
His name is Ralph Teetor, inventor of a device called cruise control.
Perfecting the auto for the comfort of the public was his lifetime goal!
At the tender age of twelve, the budding genius built a full-sized car!
He graduated from the University of Pennsylvania as an engineering star!
He moved to Hagerstown, Indiana, which is my old hometown as well.
There, he founded Perfect Circle Piston Ring Company for many years to dwell.
Ralph was annoyed by the auto's lurching, gas guzzling driving habits.
It reminded him of the hopping, loping attributes of irrational rabbits!
In the basement of his home he spent hours tinkering with his invention.
Cadillac first installed cruise control when it was brought to their attention!
He received numerous honors and patents during his creative lifetime,
Making driving for the traveling public more pleasurable and sublime.
'Twas truly remarkable the many accomplishments he was to contrive,
Since he was blinded due to an unfortunate accident at the age of five!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Received
Categories:
piston, car,
Form:
Rhyme
Halo of Life
My existence in a hollow core values seething the gear tastes like salt water pool table and chairs for your hand. Take me off for a half did not receive any such nails straight in my coffin. Boards down the sewers grime low level life never seems like the cols.
Open pages of my heart is a loyal type of friend. I grew up in filters and filth. Smothered my head in the pillows to get the hell out of the day but I wasn’t alone. You were there to hold me back into my back. Come hither Green Piston ring you when I wake up.
Categories:
piston, assonance, august, beautiful, best
Form:
Free verse
How can ducks look so serene,
gliding swiftly 'cross the pond?
While just below the water's surface,
frenzied churning's going on.
Webbed-feet are all in action,
like old piston-pumping wells,
Not a feather -none is ruffled,
not a splash of wetness swells.
If ducks are left to just be ducks,
they sashay 'cross the pond.
They're never out of character,
just ducks -that swim around.
But if they see the breadcrumbs,
duck-watchers love to throw.
It's then they agitate the pond,
And it's a tsunami water show.
Intrusion -that's the fowlest rub,
ducks lose their duck resolve.
And in a hyper-state of quack,
ducks tranquil ways dissolve.
Do the moving ducks remind you,
of some folks you meet each day?
The quiet ones that seem so calm,
in their sad and empty way!
A few of them will slip through life,
as though it's just a tranquil ride.
But deep below their psychic surface,
Tsunami thoughts there-in reside.
Do not intrude as 'watchers' will,
Least you're ready to release.
A deeper -darker part of them,
what their minds let them unleash.
Categories:
piston, allegory, animal, bird, imagery,
Form:
Ballad
I was the throne at a King’s coronation
I was the cross at Christ’s crucifixion
I grew the apple for Adam and Eve
I was the first piston, would you believe!
I was the arrow that killed poor King Harold
I was the boat that discovered a new world
I was the horse that defeated the Trojans
I am the pulpit for all theologians
I am the school desk that bore your carved name
I am the kindling that starts a warm flame
I am the stake where they tied Joan of Arc
I am the beacon that brings light to the dark
I am mahogany, willow and poplar
I am sapele, cedar and alder
I am the paper that recorded your birth
I am the coffin that returns you to earth!
Categories:
piston, history, nature
Form:
Rhyme