Best Postage Stamp Poems
Feeling the desolation, of smothering air
Hemmed in by crowds; the obliqueness of fear
Throng of the city and no sight of the sun
Incessant noise and the desire to just run.
And I drive.
Arterial routes clogged by metal and wheels
Schizophrenic drivers living others ideals
Neon and lights sizzling the sides of the streets
Marketing signage, greed’s consumer receipts.
And I drive.
White picket fences, roses, and manicured lawns
Ridiculous box housing, erected for ludicrous pawns
Playgrounds, big supermarkets, cafes and parks
Sprawling suburbia with its pools built by sharks.
And I drive
Warehouses dispensing the needs of the hordes
Industrious factories like cash castles of lords.
Sawmills busily feeding more desecration of land
Refuse collection sites completely sterile and bland.
And I drive.
Ten-acre barons on frivolous bundles of dirt
Escaping urbanity in the unproductive outskirts.
Postage stamp fields supporting ponies and kids
While toffee nose parents sit in ultra posh digs.
And I drive
Paddocks of cattle dispersed through productive farmland
Shiny new tractors with men toughened and tanned
Marshmallow hay bales pimple the face of the ground
Irrigators urinate on earth until drowned.
And I drive.
Magnificent mountains covered in beckoning trees
Clear running streams and whispering breeze
Wild flowers gently waving as robins flit all around
Radiant true colours and smoothing calm sounds.
And yes I am home.
Categories:
postage stamp, change, conflict, nonsense,
Form:
Rhyme
I suppose I'm revealin' my age as I compose this little ditty,
But as I compare costs today with yesteryear I exclaim, "What a pity!"
Gas cost 30 cents per gallon and hamburger was 19 cents a pound,
And a buck would atone my sins when collection plates were passed around!
I remember when a haircut cost two-bits at Harry's Barbershop,
And a hotdog cost 15 cents and ya paid a nickel fer a Nehi pop.
A dollar twenty-five bought a lunch of meatloaf and mashed pertaters,
That included a slab of cherry pie and a side of salad with termaters!
It cost a quarter to see 'Gone With The Wind' at the movin' pitcher show,
And fer a tub of popcorn and a coke ya needn't spend a ton of dough!
Double scoop ice cream cones cost a dime and a nickel fer a candy bar.
I remember that a loaf of bread cost 12 cents and a nickel bought a fine cigar!
Ya could buy a suit of clothes and a pair of shoes fer twenty bucks er so,
And a dime would buy ya a couple of donuts to dunk in yer cuppa joe.
A postage stamp cost 3 cents and fer a nickel ya could guzzle a glass of beer,
And a college education cost about 300 smackaroos per academic year!
Fer about 4 bucks ya could treat yer date to a show and banana split,
And later steal a smooch which would cost ya not one whit!
Nowadays fer such necessaries ya must work yer fingers to the bone,
And to keep apace with inflation, find a friendly banker to float a loan!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Categories:
postage stamp, humorous, nostalgia,
Form:
Rhyme
I remember it very well.
It was before the birth of email.
It was a real 'show and tell, and
It rings in my heart like a bell.
Mankind has always found bigger
And better ways to communicate.
Over time and space, such avenues
Have been greatly excellerated.
In the early 70's, cell phones were large
and rare, but landline phones were everywhere.
Those landline phones helped to communicate
The love and romance that were in the air,
And to tell a lover how much you cared.
But for me, and much more importantly,
There was a US POSTAGE STAMP in 1972,
First issued in 1971. I used a few of them
To send love letters to my wife to be. Although
The price of the stamp was low, it was not free.
There are no proofs of the phone calls or the
Automobile drives from Chicago to Northern
Indiana, but thanks to the 8 cent Dwight
Eisenhower postage stamp, there are many
Love letters to prove how romance was kept alive
By the connection provided by a postal stamp.
Dwight D. Eisenhower's picture was on that stamp.
The pose was inspiring and a rather stately one,
I might add. That stately stamp helped to shine
Light upon our young lives like a lamp.
That Eisenhower stamp is a most memorable
And vital part of my life's story. Its been 50 plus
Years now, but my wife and I still have many
Of those love letters. And when we read them,
It always makes us feel so much better.
Categories:
postage stamp, history,
Form:
Ekphrasis
Are we having fun yet?
I think I’m doing everything right.
The three-hour drive only took four hours.
My postage stamp of beach is
staked out and blanketed.
Soda and Kool-Aid float in
tepid water in the cooler.
Beach towels, bathing suits, balls,
umbrellas, goggles, fins, chips,
hats, sun block, sand toys, lawn chairs,
and Solarcaine are near at hand.
I know, you see, because I carried them
across every damn inch of a quarter mile
of burning sand while the kids chased
seagulls and picked Cheetos off the
ground.
Are we having fun yet?
Sand has invaded personal spaces
even my gynecologist hasn’t seen.
My hair has twisted itself into Rasta locks,
saltwater style, and I can actually
see the freckles exploding like popcorn.
I lie down. I open a book. I am promptly surrounded.
“Mommy, it’s hot. We want to go home.”
Are we having fun yet?
Categories:
postage stamp, beach, my children, summer,
Form:
Prose Poetry
When a ladder leaps like a lady bug
and the patterns turn away
Where the coffee needs an electric plug
now on any given day
Will the sun outlast it’s father
as the field comes round the bend
Till the winds forget to bother
and the season calls an end
Collected like a postage stamp
that's far too sharp to lick
Or a Sunday at a summer camp
just pulling off a tick
Found along some checkered highway
in a bag thrown in the air
Can you count the lonely buttons
that are tangled in your hair
Now I feel the lamp light burning
as the banjos start to wail
When the stars at night are churning
and a comet cuts its tail
Will you stand beside me waiting
for the promises I keep
In the land of old pajamas
that shall find us in our sleep
Categories:
postage stamp, fun,
Form:
Rhyme
Who, or what, do you think you are?
A Bollywood star
A Turkish bazaar
An iron crowbar
A permanent scar
A late-model NASCAR
An all-night Delhi darbar
A cowardly lion, ala Bert Lahr
A late-night replacement for Jack Paar
A postage stamp from the territory of Saar
A scene from MASH featuring Jamie Faar
An imported Swiss candy bar
A peripatetic avatar
A native of Madigascar
A powerful drug czar
A tractor-driver from Navistar
A pro golfer who can't even break par
An empty peanut butter jar
An unwritten memoir
A smelly, old cigar
A boring academic seminar
An unidentified flying object on radar
A diplomat from Myanmar
A fancy antique boudoir
A hardy-har-har-har!
Categories:
postage stamp, celebrity, silly, words,
Form:
Monorhyme
Being an early African American actress, included moments of outcries & burst
That ended with pride & joy, on being so many of our first
Like the first African to win an Oscar, for the movie Gone With the Wind
Opening doors ajar for minorities like there has never been
The first African woman, to sing on the radio
Showing we meant something then, still, a long way to go
Being the first African, to have a postage stamp
A shining African star, like a bright candle lamp
This strong woman of color, who struggled to live her life
Breaking through barriers, cutting them like a knife
Admiration for her, grows each and every year
To see how far we’ve come after hard fought tears
So Hattie McDaniel, is the actress I love most of all the famous names
This child born of slaves now with two stars on Hollywood’s Walk of Fame
Categories:
postage stamp, america, black african american,
Form:
Rhyme
The college town of Evanston was where we first met.
It was the summer of 1970, when Mr. Nixon was president.
It would be two years later before we’d be married;
And we were forced to be long distance lovers.
Before the internet and wide use of cell phones, we made expensive landline calls, or otherwise wrote letters.
Yes, we did ‘the otherwise’ and wrote letters between the lakes.
My lake? Lake Michigan in Chicago. And hers? Winona Lake, Indiana.
The letters are most revealing of two people engaged to be married.
They portray simple facts, figures, people, places, and things.
One of the envelopes reveals a postal date of March 8, 1972, and a .08 postage stamp with the face of President Eisenhower.
My future wife indicated that it arrived the very next day.
This was long before Fed Ex and US Postal Next Day Express.
It seems that some things, like mail, take longer now and rises in price;
But life and love were simple and beautiful then, as we read our letters.
Between weekends; between two lakes; and between two states;
Love and romance were sweet, even though separated by some 90 miles.
Long before Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, there was love and romance.
Long before the instant gratification of email, there was long distant love.
Yes. The love was tried, but it thrived. The time and space were long.
Moreover, the love not only survived, but has lasted more than 40 years.
10122016 PS Contest, Long Distant Love, Nicola Byrne. 5P
Categories:
postage stamp, chicago, husband, love, marriage,
Form:
Narrative
I have traveled the world
Across the oceans and great lands
I have seen this earth from high above
A majestic orb in clouded beauty
From afar the pain of man, unseen
I have exposed myself
Like a naked Rembrandt on display
I was seen in the museum of the common man
As I journeyed far and wide
No one took any notice, of my quiet observations
All my voyages have ended
So now I sit tranquil in the corner
One day, someone will discover me
And see, the stories I have to tell
Of kings and Queens, and lovers lost
I may even tell a tale of woe
A sad story, buried in old archives
Of a love that was both great and sad
For those in love who never knew
The love letter lost, postage due
Categories:
postage stamp, philosophy, poetry, travel, voyage,
Form:
Light Verse
Oh, Ravi Varma, you are a legend!
When I look at this Indian postage stamp
(brought out in your honour),
a miniature of your self-portrait
with the inset of your painting
of the legendary Damayanti
with the mystic swan,
I am of course reminded
of the well-known little narrative,
the episode from the grand epic—the Mahabharata:
Princess Damayanti interacting with
the soothsayer-swan, which,
at the moment, is suggesting to her
to take King Dushyanta as her spouse—
in the ensuing swayamvara, the moment of choice
(of a husband from among the suitors),
and Damayanti listening,
with bated breath, to the mystic bird.
My stream of consciousness takes me
to the originals—oil on canvas:
the strikingly common feature in both the portraits,
I must observe, are the observant eyes—
Your bright, beady, artistic eyes
And Damayanti’s glittering eyes
that nearly give away the excitement
surging in her, the bhava;
and her bhava, too, her posture.
My thought stream takes me further
to the other eyes in your enchanting array of portraits—
of the celestial Mohini with her bewitching eyes
And the legendary Shakuntala with her alluring, lovelorn eyes—
to mention just two.
Your artistic mind visualized the scenes
and your eyes didn’t fail to capture the bhavas,
and the bhavas, that is, the feelings
together with the complementary postures.
Oh legend, you have had your accolades—
national as well as international;
You also had to face turbulent criticism;
you still face it.
But, as we know, it’s not the grounded aircraft,
but the flying plane that faces turbulence!
***
Categories:
postage stamp, art,
Form:
Free verse
Tranquil day, Spring on the flood,
birds busy with their careworn caution
just see how their skills unite to feed
and stay the course of life as plants
via for so successful photosynthesis
as we garden out of delightful duty,
amateur to our joy in the carefree sun
and quiet times in mid week as even
the traffic is sunny side up as most
neighbours at work and children at
school, so a rare tranquil state to dig
delightfully the postage stamp kitchen
garden and mow the lawn post noon
as the dew departs and the sward though
winning no awards except mine for not being
too wet or too dry, just right to walk, run, sit
on with the curtain wall of beach with barbican
trees of defence to keep us safe from cars and trucks
and soak any surface water underneath this green
copper beauty beach hedge, the envy of the neighbours.
Cutting out dead plants in serious style and pleasantly potting
assorted plants for a bounty of baskets that defy weeds to do
their worst as ours is a garden of England, so weeds warn that
flowers, vegetables and fruit will fructify successfully if we do not
take it too seriously for you know what they say, a perfect garden
predicates a lack of a love life, but she or he who loves a garden
cannot surely be loveless in their own life now that Spring has sprung.
Categories:
postage stamp, garden,
Form:
Free verse
It was Clark Gable, who posed the question,
“Oh, Mr., Faulkner…do you write?”
Indeed, Mr. Gable, Faulkner wrote…
About that postage stamp of native soil
In many books and stories did his typewriter toil
regaling about that mythical place he called Yoknapatawpha County
somewhere in the rolling hills of north Mississippi
he penned a tale about Colonel John Sartoris
of Boon Hogganbeck and Lucius McCaslin
taking a trip to Memphis, Tennessee
in “Boss” Priest’s Wynton Flyer
they were “The Reivers”—footloose and fancy free
Yes, Mr. Gable, Faulkner wrote…
of Quentin Compson—“The Sound and the Fury”
the perils of the Bundren family—“As I Lay Dying”
Vardaman said, “My mother is a fish”
Indeed, Mr. Gable, “Mr. Bill” Faulkner did write
about Emily Grierson, her male admirers in “A Rose for Emily”
the trilogy of the Snopes family, such a literary tapestry
Oh, heavens, Mr. Gable, Mr. Faulkner did write
In every novel, every story, all about his native Mississippi
his works a marvelous contribution to America’s rich literary history
--Allen Baswell
© 02-25-22
Categories:
postage stamp, appreciation, celebrity, film, literature,
Form:
Free verse
1.
observing the ardent eagerness of the wind
it is clearly understood
that nascent pollens are overflowing
the niche of her heart
in response to the signals of the river
she keeps on ringing
all long the month of earth-quakes
the bench of the rail-station
wants to hug her
the medicine-counter of the ***-end of the day
beckons her with the hand to come nearer
in the assembly-hall for musical demonstration
adorned with ash-trays
going on the rehearsal of her dancing and singing
she also distributes some life
to the meticulous dressing
of the magnolia
2.
let the swimming pool be fully absorbed
with its dark-room
when the feather of your fore-finger
becomes green
the merchant of venice
will leave his business of photo-coping machine
to start walking directly
in search of new earnings
evening sets in
on the boiler of the delta
putting on yellow-dress comes
the water-vessel of the paper-balloon
there is no singing bird
shivering with cold
in the fold of the dear bed-sheet
it is possible that the boldness of the metro-railway
may give some wood of tamarisk
on the expanded palms
yet oh the western page of night
do tell today
why so much tamed polythene
are here in our cohabitation
3.
after so many days
published in the wind
painted in wings
the recent heart’s desire
of the doors and windows
they have rolled up their fairy-tales
from the ignorant drawing-room that wanted
to set her mind to the hill slanting downward
they did not want to know
how much rheumatism is there
in the hands and legs of the bark
to whom is delegated
the control of the mason-made bus-journey
sleep hugs the eye-lids of the rivers
though there is no postage-stamp
within the reaching-point
then what magic is there
in the hill slanting downward
why the wall does not learn
how to swim like a fish
truly it is he from whom
those negligible moments of man-ism
itch for blue candle-stand
Categories:
postage stamp, fantasy
Form:
Prose Poetry
You
Travel
Far across
Waters and lands
Remaining in place
In one corner
You move on
To reach
Me
5-24-2020
Ninette Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Categories:
postage stamp, allegory, irony, journey, riddle,
Form:
Ninette
Tranquil day, Spring on the flood,
birds busy with their careworn caution
just see how their skills unite to feed
and stay the course of life as plants
via for so successful photosynthesis
as we garden out of delightful duty,
amateur to our joy in the carefree sun
and quiet times in mid week as even
the traffic is sunny side up as most
neighbours at work and children at
school, so a rare tranquil state to dig
delightfully the postage stamp kitchen
garden and mow the lawn post noon
as the dew departs and the sward though
winning no awards except mine for not being
too wet or too dry, just right to walk, run, sit
on with the curtain wall of beach with barbican
trees of defence to keep us safe from cars and trucks
and soak any surface water underneath this green
copper beauty beach hedge, the envy of the neighbours.
Cutting out dead plants in serious style and pleasantly potting
assorted plants for a bounty of baskets that defy weeds to do
their worst as ours is a garden of England, so weeds warn that
flowers, vegetables and fruit will fructify successfully if we do not
take it too seriously for you know what they say, a perfect garden
predicates a lack of a love life, but she or he who loves a garden
cannot surely be loveless in their own life now that Spring has sprung.
Categories:
postage stamp, garden,
Form:
Free verse