Best Postmen Poems
My three girls
by Michael Hornschuch
With great fondness I write of my three girls,
They're always smiling throughout the day
Chasing cats, and the occasional squirrels
Searching the park, oh, how they play
But mornings are rough, as I walk out the door,
Their eyes all saddened as they wonder once more
Will he return at days end, or is this our last time
Since he’s gone, to the couch where we’ll climb
Guarding the house in my absence -- they watch
For burglars and thieves and postmen at four
This job they take seriously and never will botch
Militantly watching for a stranger at the door
But each night I return, same as the day before,
Ecstatic with joy, overwhelmed by my presence
As if they were saying “don’t leave us no more!!”
Each dog vying for attention at my sudden entrance
What an example of God’s loving grace
Suddenly playful, crazy and wild
Each taking their turn at licking my face
I spoil them rotten as each is my child
Categories:
postmen, petsday,
Form:
Ballad
Buy ink which remains indelible on the soul
Lick your stamps as they should never lick themselves
Keep envelopes open to suggestions and to be stretched
Hide them in a dry place or pine desk out of trouble
Hold pens gently into the wind or corresponding weather
Leave an impression on the world as you write
Use an eraser but only after midnight
Employ an umbrella over your story
Deploy it in the rain if you compose
Protect your notes while rushing to the mail post
Kill trees only when necessary
Pray they don’t take revenge
Keep rain in buckets one drop at a time
Keep sanity at bay and asteroids at large
Stamp high as bays get wet in rising tides
Write letters with pens untouched by men
Utilize paper snow white and pretty
Mail correspondences twice if suspicious
Use two stamps because you can
Deliver yourself from evil
Let postmen know you are on to them
Send one letter at a time as mail is heavy
Give it time because time is burdensome
Let letters drop while servers do the rest
Wait for a response but don’t hold your breath
Categories:
postmen, endurance, rain, tree, wisdom,
Form:
Didactic
In the eye of the hurricane, Translation of Carlos Bousono’s poem : En el ojo del hurracan
(Ninth in the collection : Metafora del Desafuero, published – according to the editor, Alejandro
Duque Amusco – not in 1988, but in 1989, was awarded the « Premio Nacional de Poésia »
for 1989, on May 28, 1990. Bousono, as in these later free verse compositions, shows how
well he manages the long-breathed line, a clear contrast to the compact and elliptical earlier
verse, say, of the collection : Subida al amor. T. Wignesan)
The creatures of plenitude situated themselves holding their silence, the thrones of
inexplicability, exactly, therefore, in the very centre of the eye of the hurricane :
that doors be blown asunder, that windows be blown away,
that agonizing bodies in makeshift beds be smothered into oblivion,
half-dead widows, postmen who half-way in the act of delivering
the love letter which would definitely render us joyful,
the seat where the poor old grandmother was in the act of sitting
while sewing
the newly-born baby’s pony-tailed bonnet which turned around half-
way in the gusts,
the hurricane which uplifted love and all that was left of love :
letters, papers, leaves
of music,
lovers in coitus at the orgiastic acmé and the light,
when it began to dawn,
when the saxophone cleared its throat and commenced the beat of the
dance,
when everything on the stage in its place awaited the raising of the
curtain,
when the wedding was at the point of being consecrated, and the
priest was ready to offer his benediction : « el ite misa est »,
when within the following few moments the inexorable
ceremonial of the written formalities was about to be concluded
then, as I said,
and only then,
the hurricane unleashed its violence with rage, the incomprehensible
hurricane, and there stood still only the immoveable lucid eye,
separate, eminent, complete in its entire being, that by force of its
profundity had ascended to the exact point where it could
redeem its guilt,
the eye of reconciliation,
the eye of wisdom and suave serenity,
where the intact and silenced world sang
adorable and yet so beautiful without us,
necessary pretexts, notwithstanding, of its musical nature.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Categories:
postmen, natural disasters, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Postmen are the unsung heroes
Rain or shine they’re here on time
Ten out of ten never zeros
Such respect for postman of mine
In summer shorts till winter’s clime
When at dawn my Postman arose
In snow or rain or warm sunshine
Strong and fit no red runny nose
Written 25th January 2020
ABABBABA
8 lines
8 syllables
Contest Oh-No a Twisted Char-Lay
Sponsor Charles Messina
2nd Place
Contest Strand Select F
Sponsor Brian Strand
HONORABLE MENTION
Categories:
postmen, hero, rain, weather,
Form:
Lay
The island is very small
With a small mountain
And a small lake
Some small towns
With small stores
Little houses with tiny balconies
And miniature beaches
Where winter and summer are blended
Exchanging their days and nights
Like the play of waves
You can ramble on it all in half a day
Only the setting sun is big
Like a giant bronze rooster
It doesn't want to leave
Even for a night
This island of only two postmen
Categories:
postmen, travel
Form:
The politically correct nonsense of today is so very absurd!
The language of my native land has become so terribly blurred,
By those who devote themselves to concocting such inane idiom.
Such prattle is as puzzling to me as is the element of iridium!
Now, it's chic to refer to postmen and befuddled college freshmen,
As postpersons and freshpersons whether they be woman or man!
Even folks with sticky fingers are given a title deemed more proper:
A shoplifter is delicately called a "non-traditional shopper!"
The wino in the gutter and the falling-down drunken driver,
Are each tenderly referred to as a "substance abuse survivor!"
Even the Father of Creation is no longer referred to as "He".
Monikers like "Daddy", "She" and "A Being" were created by the laity!
The so-called social engineers want to sink without a trace,
Cheery "Merry Christmas" with ill-chosen greetings in its place!
After all, 'tis Christ's glorious birth that we commemorate,'
Not the winter soltice or some pagan rite to perpetuate!
Seems 'tis normal nowadays to blame everyone but one's self,
For problems and predicaments in which one finds himself.
I could go on ad infinitum on this topic but space won't allow,
But I reckon the reader will have perceived how I feel by now!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
postmen, political
Form:
Rhyme
I'VE GOT NO POST TRAUMATIC STRESS SYNDROME
Oh dear what can the matter be
There’s a mail strike and I’m into philately
I’ve had no letters from Monday to Saturday
The postmen are really unfair
They promised last week that they would deliver
Some stamps from Hong Kong and box of chopped liver
But nothing’s arrived, oh how my lips quiver
My mailbox is terribly bare
Inspired by contest
**** Total Fiction write ****
2/03/18
Categories:
postmen, humorous, satire,
Form:
Rhyme
I’ve got to get away from here
And this time I do know why
My town is just changing way too fast
To the point where I’m about to cry
They’re shutting all my favorite stores
They’re building wider roads
The gin mills are charging more
The policemen have more codes
Other workers and I are impatient
Our pay hardly ever goes up
And bosses give us much more work
They drink from a silver cup
Our postmen are losing their positions
The mail is slow to get through
Summers are getting hotter
But we don’t think warming is true
And I’ve just made up my mind
I’m leaving my town for good
But where my spirit takes me
May never be understood.
Categories:
postmen, anxiety, change,
Form:
Lyric
As darkness covers our piece of the world what goes on that we cannot see,
A milkman delivering his milk for us to get out of bed and have a pot of tea,
A madman drunk stalks lone victims these people never heard nor seen again,
News papers printed and delivered with the yesterday's headlines despite heavy rain.
Thieves break into houses and the owners never feel safe in their homes no more
Fights outside clubs and pubs, drunken men brawl, fallen men are kicked on the floor,
In families the husband beats his wife and his children but is scared of strong men,
It makes him feel he is a god and has everything under control so he beats them up again
The nation’s letters are sorted by postmen getting the mail ready for this morning’s post,
A wife shouting for a husband to get up for work, drunk last night she gives up the ghost,
Two men staggering home drunk singing old songs that remind them of their youth
Dogs howl at shadows or somebody creeping around up to no good is nearer the truth,
A house with lights on spills screaming and shouting arguments out onto street,
Some lay in our beds our consciences takes away our tiredness and we cannot sleep,
A husband sneaks downstairs quiet as a door mouse to have a good drink plenty of liquor,
Swigs a bottle of whisky it’s strong and it burns he feels sick but he gets the hit quicker,
Alarms begin to sound as the country wakes up there are soft boiled eggs and toast,
Looking forward to the day sipping hot tea, it’s so quiet around here as we wait for the post.
Categories:
postmen, life, men, husband, wife,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Virus
No dining no cinema no going out
No football or festivals
No getting about
No meeting a colleague no hugging a friend
No pubs no clubs gatherings
When will we see the end?
This virus has us locked inside
Us over seventies
All have to hide
But its not all gloom it wont last forever
Being kept apart
Has brought us all together
We are Zooming and Skyping like never before
The community spirit
Is just like in the war
There have been front room festivals
And internet plays
Happy reminders of better days
So we wont give up we’ll stay in lock down
Until this damn virus
Is no longer around
If we believe in our hearts it wont be long
We will beat this pandemic
And see it gone
So lets drink a toast to the NHS crew
And to postmen and drivers
Who bring deliveries to you
To bus drivers and policemen and firemen too
Who all risk their lives
For me and for you
So lets all stand firm and never give in
Then the war on this virus
We will surely win
I know we can beat it if we stay strong
And we will see the day
When forever its gone
Categories:
postmen, hope, thank you,
Form:
Rhyme
Dream On!
Clouds hang low today covering the ridge,
if I drive up there on my bike I can hide in
a steel blue cloud and people will say:
where is he? Him! He is trying to find
the milky way where postmen wear red
uniforms and say good morning sir before
handing you the gas bill.
Sigh, here back on earth the post has been
privatized low status, casual work, they
wear jeans and anorak and have no time for
a chat, their route is long and a man with
a timepiece follows them around.
When coming down from the ridge I will not
carry tablets, stay silent drive home and
make a cup of coffee.
Categories:
postmen, fantasy, parody,
Form:
Blank verse
who did not sit beside me
but stood in
the side view of me
just to start
with her sad
story of a
husband that pass away
(sorry for your loss, i said )
only to let her ask many
thousands of questions
about me and where i live
saying she knew
the landlord
lisa
(more like, she will say something about her self)
(so you will speak the things, she wants to know)
she said she was on the bus
but i did not see her
she said her backpack
was heavy
but later said it was light!
first the words were of
health
then of crime
who did i tell
if it was a woman
who hurt me?
and the more i talked
the more i knew
she had done this
many times before
she played me
like
the music she talked about
but for who
and the why
my slavery has been
over 30 years
and no one ever
care before
but i have watch
as teachers, doctors, bus drivers, postmen, cops, landlords, Maintenance-men, cashiers and family
do things, i could not
understand
and, Then it hit me
""THE MUSIC'"
it stocks
and bonds, Pay checks for a entertainment community
I am a living free bank...
of slavery
they come in my home
with keys
when ever they need
why would the gov.
stop the gravy train!!??
© 2022 lyricvixen
4-7-2022
Ogden-Utah, Slavery, disfigurement,Library-of-Congress, © a month ago '-pumping-someone-for-information • little-old-lady • red-car • liver-landlord • asking-who-you-told-about-face-attack • how-many-kids
Categories:
postmen, anger, betrayal, evil, gospel,
Form:
Ultimate wish with the great thoughts,
No one knows today is my birthday.
Knowing you is my hardest task of the day,
Never thought one will wish me like this,
Off course, it is not for me, I am mistaken.
Words are pointing me, how it is possible!?
Nice emotions these are, the person may be a writer.
Postmen surely help me to find the stranger,
Envelope is fully blank, how can he find?
Remembering every second of mine, this is only the way.
Surrounding is in silence, but, I am totally disturbed,.
Obviously, the person observed me for a long time,
None of the people disturbed me like this, then, who is this?!
4/2/2018
Contest :Anonymous angel
Categories:
postmen, birthday, confusion, words, writing,
Form:
Acrostic
stepping out of the post office, I turned towards sounds of loud
crashing glass and shredding metal. Through the bright summer morning I
can see what just happened, two cars (actually, a guy in a pickup truck and
a lady in a car) tried to challenge amber lights, and upon seeing another
vehicle competing for the same amber, both sped-up to beat the other at the
last second. Well, it didn't work out real good, see'ins how they both
were thinkin' alike. At mach-speed, they veered away from each other at the
last second, the pickup slipped by (and kept on goin) but the car with the
lady crashed into the barbershop on the corner (that's what I heard) throngs
of onlookers converged on the scene. The lady sprawled halfway out of her
car, with her lower half wedged under the steering wheel, staring lifeless at
the sky. Joking to the crowd, one of the Postmen standing around shouted
"she musta wanted a haircut" I heard laughter echoing around me. Anger
filled me, I wanted to shout "what about her family? they don't know how
much their lives just changed! how can you laugh?" ....... the Postman went
back inside to sell stamps ...... I went home ......... she went to the morgue for
identification.
Categories:
postmen, death
Form:
Prose Poetry
Sophie Helen is our beyond protective black cocker spaniel.
She races out to meet the rapists and murders
They come in the form of Amazon deliveries.
Postmen and house painters, she previews them all.
Expecting their intentions are notoriously diabolical.
To her they are killers carrying hidden axes and daggers.
Untrustworthy, menacing, lecherous liars and thieves.
She barks elongated warnings.
Frantic, angry, howling, fierce barks.
Until the evil ones sit down and give her a treat or a pat.
Within seconds becoming their new best friend.
It is now she and them against us.
Categories:
postmen, dog,
Form:
Personification