Best Propane Poems
My driveway is packed with the cars
of friends and family,
chips put out, and the little ones
are running joyously.
A cooler filled up with bag ice
keeps cold soda and beer,
I think half the folks I know
were able to get here.
I stand over a charcoal grill,
today it is my thing,
propane may work in a pinch,
but briquettes remain king
Coals seer some discount longhorn steaks,
bought from a friend of mine,
will turn the meat ninety degrees,
get perfect grill-mark lines.
My vegan niece sits not far off,
always looks thin and ill,
ready to tell everybody:
“It’s not okay to kill!”
As if the plants she likes to eat
didn’t go to their death,
some day she might see how it is,
but she ain’t got there yet.
The youngsters go high on the swings,
I hear metal chains squeak,
one even gets up far enough
to brush against some leaves.
Every few moments one flies off,
and lands half-stumbling,
turns back to his cousins and cries:
“That jump was amazing!”
The older kids are further back,
shagging some fly-balls down,
they mix it up with fast bouncers,
racing across the ground.
Inside men sit and watch the game,
share opinions on sports,
each convinced they know the deal,
which players to exhort.
Not a word of work goes around,
and to me that’s just fine,
Boss-man gets five days of the week,
but these two? They are mine.
Wives and sisters sit on the deck,
indulging in girl-talk,
it may be a stereotype,
but lordy, how they squawk.
Then again, maybe it’s just me,
the introverted type,
gossiping in a big circle,
not something I would like…
Take off the ones medium rare,
three more minutes—well done,
plate them up, then give a shout:
“The steak’s on, everyone!”
Our Lovely Dog Snickers
I was directed today,
To a brand new web site.
It’s all about pets,
And some of their plights.
It got me to thinking,
Of a dog we once had.
She was part of the family;
I felt more like her dad.
When I was at work,
One thing I knew sure.
She was waiting for me,
Her heart was so pure.
When she knew it was time
For me to get home.
She’d wait by the door,
With a toy or a bone.
She’d have a smile on her face,
Her tail would be wagging.
Her affection for me
Never seemed lagging.
If I said, so she’d hear,
“I’m taken’ the truck.”
She always got excited;
She hoped she’s in luck.
If I went for a walk,
She was right by the door.
Looking at me,
With her leash on the floor.
Oh she was a shedder,
A hair-growing machine.
Our house always needed
A thorough vacuuming.
When it came time for bed,
She would stand at her cage.
She knew the routine,
was as smart as a sage.
Some time a while back,
I read of two men.
Who were speaking of Heaven,
But of course hadn’t been.
One fellow wondered,
Would they barbecue there?
Will they melt down smores?
Could the steaks be grilled rare?
Will they use charcoal briquettes?
Or does propane heat the air?
Would there be a choice of soft drinks
Or is it just water there?
Will the biscuits be golden?
Would they there use some leaven.
They were so filled with queries,
About life then in heaven.
Well one of the questions
I would ask of those two.
Will my Snickers be there?
On my slippers to chew?
Will Heaven be heaven?
If that really ain’t so.
Is it finally the place
Where I’ll want to go?
Is she still as anxious,
To run in the clouds?
Or are things there so different,
With men in white shrouds?
I’ll not forget how it ended.
Then came the conclusion.
Perfection in heaven
Is no foggy illusion.
For as my dog had her favorites,
Chew toys and a chair.
She’ll be as happy as ever
When her master gets there.
That seems now so clear,
That’s settled for me.
I have hope and joy,
As the end now will be.
If when at the gate,
I don’t my little dog see.
I’ll know I’m in heaven,
For my Master will be.
Written by oldbuck, after an afternoon of
Thinking about his little Snickers
And their possible “future” together.
AND SO THE SNOW
And so the snow
Continues to blow
The wind
It's driving force
The hills, once brown with sand
Took on a new face today
White until the barest rocks
Almost did not exhist
Then the sun did come out
The temp twenty at it's height
Nothing happened all was still
The mountain cold and white
Ten days went by, the Holidays passed
All was beautyful to behold
Ten inches of snow but it took help
Before I got to go
My readings done
My groceries bought
I breathed a sigh
And went back home
That night on the TV
The weather man did grin
Ducked his head, cleared his throat
And then he did begin
"An arctic front is coming in
Lots of snow and dangerous wind"
And so I ordered more propane, gritted my teeth
"Here we go again"
The build up of snow like last time
This time never came
The snow did come but before it built
The wind had then stepped in
The number of inches was hard to guess
But the drifts began to grow,
I watched the ghosts swirl and sway
And dance among the rocks all day
Day one, day two, the beginning of three
The sun does have a scheen
And as like the day before
It's the wind predicts the scene
As the sun begins to think of rest
It high lights the bare ridges
And the shadows of the drifts
Has not the ghosts hidden
I went to Church today
And had ease of mind
I no longer feared the ice and snow
I just sprinkled salt where I wanted to go
Cile Beer
Now that time is getting shorter for the arrival of my new home it has put quite a
stress on Shirlee and Fred. They have had to do rearranging out at their place in order to
accommodate my permanent cabin, besides working their full time jobs.
Friday Shirlee was off and there were some fittings on the skelgas tank that had
to be replaced before it could be put to use. (Now my days on the Nebraska and South
Dakota plains I seem to remember our source of heat was called skelgas even though it was
actually propane. Well that was a day ago I think) We also had errands pertaining to the
mobile home so I went out and picked her up and we went from there. Actually she has just
started working 4 days a week, ten hours a hours a day with Friday's off so we usually have
this day together anyway.
I started the day with a light breakfast (so we could eat in town) and loaded the
things I needed to take along and pulled out of the driveway. As I reached the end of our
street and was gazing into the sun waiting for the cross traffic to pass I was startled by a
sight in the distance. Probably a quarter mile ahead of me was a lake and as a large truck
passed by on the interstate I was shocked to see... The Loch Ness Monster slowly working his
way horizontal with the lake shore. Totally stunned I was then confused as to which road I
should take out to Shirlee's. Finally I decided I would take the interstate. As I passed under
the interstate to reach my turn off I breathed a sigh of relief as the monster turned out to be
a tractor with double appendages raised in the air and a cab with a rounded top. I started
laughing so hard I almost missed the turn off and had barely gained control as I reached the
house. After greeting the dogs I proceeded to do a little chore as Shirlee went outside to do
some of her chores. When she returned I was all but rolling on the floor reliving the earlier
scene. I had shared it with the dog while she was out. After urging I finally told her of the
incident. Eye brows raised she said, " I wondered for a minute as I didn't realize they were
land animals too." With that we departed for town.
I came from a land of redneck drinkers, who mounted deer heads on walls without sheetrock. It was a simpler time. You shot or hooked what you ate. A wood stove heated the whole house. It ran on bottled propane when wood was scarce. I can still smell the blackening butter and hear the purple-red deer meat sizzling in Gram’s cast-iron fry pan on that day. I can see the knife gash in the imprint of flowers on the homemade butter. Its beauty marred to lather the pan as mine had been. Each day since then, as I knelt on the chair staring past the potted violets toward the house next door, I'd shiver.
whispers
breach the bedroom walls:
chain-locked door
I came from a land where, through a picture perfect window, a little girl could see rows of candy-colored gladiola’s growing beside the home of the neighbor boys. The boys whose Father liked to flash his private parts to little girls. No, this was not the end of the yellow brick road, but the land of bullies, beer, and ******** pedophiles, far from picture perfect.
My family is an old house:
Dad is the fireplace, which keeps us all warm.
Mom is the food, which keeps us all fed.
Paco, the Chihuahua is the television set, which provides us all with entertainment.
Kiki, the cat is the radio in the house, which makes a lot of noise.
My grandfather is the refrigerator, which stores all of our essential needs in life.
My uncle Joe is the propane tank of the house, which stores all the gas needed for the stove.
My Aunt Shana is the door of the house, which lets viewers in.
My uncle Larry is the propane tank filler which feeds the tank the gas needed for the stove.
Lulu, the pug is the carpet of the house, which keeps all of our feet warm
Sweetheart, the pug is the tile floor, which provides us something hard to walk on.
My cousin, Johnathan is the main bedroom, which people look at with awe.
My cousin Eric, is the insulation, which keeps any sound from escaping,
My grandma Eastridge is the walls of the house that keeps it warm.
My Grandpa Eastridge is the shape of the house, which people see first.
I am the foundation and the framework which keeps the house from crumbling
The storm was approaching, we thought... should we scramble?
To stay may be risky, should we take the gamble?
We had our provisions, and we thought "We're prepared".
We bought batteries, and candles, and in no way impaired.
The windows we shuttered, and we battened the hatches,
Stocked up on propane, canned goods, and more matches.
The skies rained down, oh the strong winds we heard,
Debris flying everywhere, the sight was absurd.
The weather channel, we watched with impending doom,
As the storm changed it's path, we now needed a safe room.
The eye passed over, and all was eerily silent,
Then the wind switched directions, becoming even more violent.
The roof held tight, but the shingles they flew,
We stayed huddled together, what else could we do?
The large palm trees blew over, and the windows they rattled.
When it was finally over, what a storm we had battled.
We walked outside, feeling like survivors of war,
But we had no idea, what was really in store.
There were houses destroyed, and dreams that were shattered,
Our car was still there, but it looked pretty battered.
The friends and neighbors they came, and we all worked together,
We would build all again, and hope it lasts forever.
-Mary Waldeck
Grace Harbour
First into Grace Harbour
Me in classic sailboat
At anchor alone
In Desolation Sound
Where silence reveals the place
And the world is bigger
Because I can hear its’ vastness
It’s Bioacoustic diversity
Seals surface, gulls dive, water ripples.
A breeze in a cedar whispers
The buzz of a bumblebee.
The distant whistle of an eagle trembles in air
And falling droplets of rain taste of spruce.
The very place sparkles in silent sound and my soul is still
No need to block out
The combat zone of flashing messages.
From CNN and Fox.
But stillness of silence
Is reflected in blue water
and framed by oyster encrusted rocks,
While green and orange algae talk
Tidal pools and purple sea stars walk
And I can hear the world as music.
--------------------------------------------
War, bombs and shrapnel.
Roaring yachts arrive like Hummers or tanks from Kandahar
Stacked high with gadgets, guns hanged,
Travelling as a pack of waking house-mobiles
To conquer wilderness with bars, showers, propane barbecues
Gas generators, deep freezers, and boom-boxes
All sorts of folks; models in bikinis with pedigree dogs.
Fashion ladies in silk that launch revving zodiacs
To carry standard poodles for an urgent pee.
Then ‘A Tea Cup Yorkshire terrier’ yelps
At a Jack Russell that barks at a Chihuahua
As a Dachshund and Afghan Hound take offense
In frenzied jealousy.
Big hipped humans scream ashore in tenders.
Acoustic awareness numbed
The get-away-from-it-allers that bring it all always, partied.
As night fell they turned the generators off
“I haven’t seen any wildlife”, said one,
“There was more to feed at the zoo”
Said the other boomer
“Yea, where’s the loon.”
Fixed ideas of progress consume.
Then our mother moon
In full dress exposed an array of limpets
Of many sizes and shapes all clinging to obvious rocks
Exchanging freedom for the security
Of a defensive shell of fixed ideas
And automated reflexes.
It is useless to talk kindly to a limpet
One must detach it by main force.
When Only Cash Would Do
Written: by Tom Wright
1/00
He decried to me, I'm hungry,
and have no funds for bread nor meat.
The fuel tank in my shack called home
has no propane to give it heat.
Again, he said I'm ailing,
with no one to pay me heed.
I know you have my needed cash,
will you do me just this one deed?
I thought a box of canned supplies,
and fuel tank filled would fit the bill.
At day I'd call the local druggist,
with instructions for his needs to fill.
But from his heart his anger shown,
though I thought my gesture was fine.
He then confessed that his need was cash,
for cigarettes and wine.
I said, such as I have I'll gladly give,
but cannot subsidize your needs of sin.
He failed to comprehend my reason,
when told that I'd been born again.
UNSUPPORTED CODE
Schwegmann, Winn Dixie, the Superstore and more
Customer service was instilled indeed in you for sure
You hungry so you pull up in the drive thru
Welcome to McDonald's, how may I help you?
Baskins Robbins, oh so sweet
Brownie sundaes I love to eat
Easy Serve turned into Quicky's
Sometimes soda cans are sticky
Working at Lowes after Hurricane Katrina, business was a lot
We sold paint, copper, propane, plywood, nails and sheetrock
Get the items off the shelf at night this had to be
Don't leave it on top stock cause you can't sell what you can't see
The Sky Room, Terminator, Charlie 15
If you ever worked for Delta, then you know just what I mean
Working with the schools were oh so cool and fun
Enjoyed working with the kids and playing in the sun
The job at the Convention Center was indeed a Hot Mess
And the management team, shh... I wasn't impressed
Wasted labor is when you pay desk boys $75,000 or more if you will
And you got spiders and cobwebs growing inside yo window sill
Even the HNIC act like he don't see
Bake me a potato cause this shh... ain't fly with me
This is unacceptable, the words that I would state
Feisty, fierce, dominant and confident, the one they love to hate
I never was a follower going along with the flow
Who the hell is Colette Dright?
They will all come to know
Stand out, even if you gotta stand alone
And if you don't wanta work, stay yo lazy self home
Afternoon Delight!
Lookin’ forward to a little afternoon delight
Turn! Turn! Turn!
There is a season turn, turn, turn
A time to every purpose under heaven
A time for neck rub, a time for kiss, a time to unfold 70’s clock radio music
Peter, Paul and Mary
88.7
Bob Dylan, Donovan, Neil Young
A time to borrow propane tank next door
A time to swim in ocean of stars
A time to Yale at Jose – the gardener
A time to country
two left feet who never promise a rose garden
A time for Chopin piano concerto along with a time for COVID models
A time for Mahjong and Gin rummy
Without winning or losing
Whopping Leap of faith: A time of homemade haircut
A time for Prosecco and strawberries; a time for Instacart
A time to Mystic Hills; a time to Top of the World
Oh, my beloved lemon thief
A time to dream –
grateful dreams – tasty dreams – To Have and Have Not dreams
Today and always
The greatest radio station in the world!!
Wisdom from up above?
No it is down below
Alien’s live down below
In the surface of the earth
Taking the dead
Psychedelic tremors
Weird fantasy
Hammered propane
Circular visuals
I can’t stand and cannot write anymore
The pain is too immense
Feel the fire!
I warn you now
The aliens will come from below
Make their planets from out of space
They are the visionary
Propane
Nitrogen
Sodium
Potassium
Alien contact through an aerial
Their speaking is like absolute confusion
Not music
Not pain
An absolute chemistry fantasy
No-one can understand this lonely dweller
I see the invisible
Brain working at 101%
Increased productivity
Increased power
Increased Intelligence
Aerial contact
Beeps of fantasy
Icega
Cats purr
I fear the final outcome
I feel the pain in my head shrink
Loneliness is just a name
I created loneliness
I am Lord Lonely
Rage
Char rage
Charade
Darn you!!
Darn you AND
Your I need money so darn you attitude
How bout someone take your life out of your hands
Forget oxygen,
Money is THE ESSENTIAL key building block of life
Black, Mexican
Marijuana, Opium
Stir Fry, Burritos
Propane, Gas
Whatever
For everything else money can't buy
There's stress.
Keeps people on drugs
Possessed
Common gentlemen
Lets give it a rest
Warp minds
Fiddle the strings
That green overrides the fact
We are all human beings
We've never cared about your health
Play with rattles while we stack wealth
hahahaa, fools. Works every time
You'd think they'd learn,
but at the drop of a dime......
CORRUPTION!
Full moon tempted by the calling of the night
Shines brighter than glass on fire
Invisible flames, such a sight
Cover my eyes, colours me insane
Bring your honour
Not your pain
Too young to look, too blind to see
You smile with sins
The lord said to me
Must I live in good despair? I shot back
He’s gone
But Limbos walls begin to crack
The lightening bugs glow through the sky
Before the blackness comes
With a heavy sigh
Wake me up, not from sleep you once said
Id scratch your surface
Till my fingers have all bled
Sing not of virtues of what reflections show
Daisies live in hot days
But will they last all through the snow?
I WISHED MY PEOPLE KNEW THIS!
MY PEOPLE COMPLAIN LIKE THEY WERE FED WITH CONSTRAINS
SO MANY CORRUPT LEADERS DECEIVING THE YOUTH WITH THEIR WORDS LIKE PROPANE
THE YOUTH SNIFF THEM AND GET ADDICTED LIKE COCAINE
SO NURTURED WITH THEIR DOGMATIC MENTAL SLAVERY THEY WILL KEEP DESTROYING THE FUTURE THAT WE CAN’T CONTAIN
I BELIEVE THE YOUTH WILL RISE UP ONE DAY AND FIGHT EVERY CORRUPT HEART WITH MUCH PAIN
I WISHED BOB WAS ALIVE TO REWRITE HIS “REDEMPTION SONG” BECAUSE I WOULD HAVE USE IT FOR MY CAMPAIGN
ON ALL LIGHTS AND LET’S SEARCH FOR THE TRUTH BECAUSE THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR US TO POP CHAMPAGNE
LAST NIGHT I HAD A DREAM WHERE NKRUMAH TOLD ME THAT WHEN HE TOOK A LOOK AT AFRICA NOW, HE GOT SAD BUT WITH MY WORDS HE WILL SUSTAIN
EVEN AFTER MISUSING OUR TAXES, THEY FORGET TO FEED THE CHILDREN IN SOMALIA BUT I WILL CUT DOWN MY LAST PLANT AND FEED THEM WITH PLANTAIN
WHEN WE MAKE EVERY VISION AT NIGHT AND DRAMATIZE EVERY REALITY IN THE MORNING
WE MAKE FOOLS OUT OF FOOLS WHO WILL BRING NO FOOD FOR THE FOLD
THEY CAN SPIT ON MY GRAVE BUT THE TRUTH WILL BURN THEM DOWN EVEN IN THE COLD