Best Quarts Poems
transparency is mirrored
you may stare
right through
my chest
only catching
your reflection
in the subterfuge
of rest
the self it splits & triplicates
stays bound by feet alone
an ecstasy of horrors
spliced & given space to roam
I'm undone yet placed on parchment
to bleed & bloom
in equal quarts
a reaching hand
that never grasps
with light & dark
ascending thoughts
all I need is printed
in signs & patterns
I can't read
as I float through all eternity
half-aware of warnings
I didn't fully heed
And...
I need 24 quarts of 2% milk;
Okay, "6 gallons of milk!"
No, sir, I want 24 quarts, it stays fresher that way!
But lady we only have that in Silk.
Then I want twenty four plastic containers,
Will you pick them up all in blue;
And then divide up those six gallons,
Just like I want you to do.
Well, I must ask my supervisor,
For I am very confused,
We don't usually offer that service,
I must ask and get back to you.
[I can put quarts up in my freezer;
Those big gallons just don't fit.
Then I can feed my kittens one at a time;
It just takes a little bit.
How many kittens do I have?
I thought you would never ask.
I have 48 on my property;
I'm known of the lady of cats.
China charges 1 million annually
For each panda in our zoos
If we won't pay in full
Then the pandas we will lose
Nasty Panda's the exception
No one wants him here or there
He was paid 1 million dollars
To abscond and disappear!
Here comes the Nasty Panda
~He's much more than you can bear
He's such a nasty panda
~He leaves cooties everywhere
Beware of Nasty Panda
~He do anything he please
Stay clear of Nasty Panda
~He eats shoots and leaves
I smelled him 'fore I seen 'em
That black and white pariah
Slippin' slidin' in my kitchen
On smooshy mushy pulp papaya
I yelled for him to stop
And I told him where to go
Wink and laugh was all he did
With a Homer Simpson "D'oh!"
Here comes the Nasty Panda
~He's much more than you can bear
He's such a nasty panda
~He leaves cooties everywhere
Beware of Nasty Panda
~He do anything he please
Stay clear of Nasty Panda
~He eats shoots and leaves
He hasn't bathed in ages
Masked by quarts of cheap cologne
His furry skin sweat-sticky
From the surface to the bone
Smelly cigar and boozy breath
Plus an air of upper-crust
Please keep your kids away
Cuz that nasty bear can cuss!
Here comes the Nasty Panda
~He's much more than you can bear
He's such a nasty panda
~He leaves cooties everywhere
Beware of Nasty Panda
~He do anything he please
Stay clear of Nasty Panda
~He eats shoots and leaves
If you meet up with Nasty Panda
Better turn around and run
You're bound to lose your money
And your wits before he's done
Don't shed tears for Nasty Panda
Cuz he likes the way things are
Don't forget to hide your keys
Else he'll drive off in your car!
Here comes the Nasty Panda
~He's much more than you can bear
He's such a nasty panda
~He leaves cooties everywhere
Beware of Nasty Panda
~He do anything he please
Stay clear of Nasty Panda
~He eats shoots and leaves
Here comes the Nasty Panda
~He's a scoundrel and a bum
He's such a nasty panda
~He's as nasty as they come
Beware of Nasty Panda
~He's gonna raise a stink
Stay clear of Nasty Panda
~He's much nastier than you think
Last night while asleep my heart kept beating.
Life-blood through arteries with veins repeating.
Five quarts of blood in twenty-three seconds,
Circulating through me—my body beckons.
Last night while asleep, my body at rest,
Drained poison my bloodstream possessed.
Carbon dioxide, by oxygen replaced.
Lungs cleansing while breathing kept pace.
The nervous system, while I'm unaware,
Was busy playing neuro-solitaire.
Body repairing, last night while asleep.
Preparing for appointments to keep.
How does this happen? And who gives command?
We are complex--our bodies well planned.
Our blessed Creator keeps us through the night.
To arise and start another day off right.
Sitting on the porch
neath the old Oak,
breakfast is over,
bacon, fried yeast bread and peach preserves
canned by hand in ancient jars.
They’ve seen their share of life,
garden tomatoes,
blanched to remove the skin,
peeled and crushed,
a smidge of salt and hint of lemon,
lovingly filled
as the sweat is wiped from furtive brow,
and the last of the butter beans are picked
…taters dug.
Watermelons and cantaloupes are long gone,
only the pumpkins remain in the garden,
their leaves yellowing from green,
their cheeks blushing orange,
awaiting their ritual makeover of snaggle toothed grins
and flickering hollow stares.
The summer season slowly, limpidly
goes to sleep.
Sweet tea at hand,
the ice has all melted,
and the clacking rhythm of the old rocking chair
slowed,
as time stands silent
in the oppressive heat.
If you look through the clear glass
now there is held
the sweetness of Autumn’s fruit,
strawberries and blueberries
and of course sweet, succulent, juicy peaches.
fruit and sugar and nothing more,
cooked to perfection,
with slow caring hands.
How many pints and quarts
over how many years have these bent fingers held.
Soon now those same jars will empty
and soap and water will wash
from them the years of use,
the memories we’ve shared
...but the love will remain.
The rusted rings will be thrown away,
the broken seals replaced,
and like new a young, strong set of hands
will heat the jars …sterilizing …each one,
preparing them, one by one,
to be filled with the new memories and love they will hold.
11/23/17
Hold it jumping knife
Lead me now
Off pride quality resembling stationary trains
Under velvet willows
xylem yields Zephaniah
Angelic baritone can decorate
Everything from giants hollering inspirational jargon
Kids leaping mysteriously
No-one obscures problematically quaint
Redound steadfast triumphs
unwarrantably viscous wispy
XX
YY
Zany are bold claims
Diluted evaporates frost growth
Highly~Ineffective indefinite Jade•Green knavish
Limitation manifests naturally over periods
Quantify
Regurgitated slaves troublesome ugly vagrants
Wonderfully xenophobic yearlong zadnica,
****(nic) betrothed chatter delusional escapades
Fondled gifts harass innocent journey-men
Knowledge learnt more-so note-worthy opting-out
Presidential quarts recollection subsides
Troublesome undergrads vigorously womanize
***
Yesterday's Zzz's awaken by cognitive dialect
Eventually freshmen graduate
Hiding inside jambalaya ketamine
Luring man nonchalantly obsesses prostitution
Quietly
Real sex trumping unnamed vagina wilding-out
XYZ
Ambivalent bass clowns drenched excessively
Fake giggles heard intuitively
Jakaroos knock loudly mocking noises
Obesity plagues queen rich slobs
Time undos vestiges
Worry
X
Y
Z
•THE END•
10~07~16
It was summertime and healing from the winter’s dark
Felt like memories were alone and silent, warring with the doubts
Leaves green and dancing with the breeze, wings of hope
Laughing at the lost moments when we played tag with hide n’ seek
It was a game, summer’s cure for the past that was all pain
Clouds of melancholy folded into shadows where Michael gave us
All the ice cream and root beer we could eat and drink, consume
With overwhelming urgency, appetites for a home cooked meal
Crushed beneath the sugary syrup and cold vanilla breath
It was summertime, before the moon and stars caught up
With twinkle of fireflies in a Mason jar, quarts of shimmering
Lights, delighting our hearts and our thoughts with their breathless
Glow, their embers alive with silent joy, amazing music only
Discovered in the dusk, just before day fled into the ebony distance
It was summertime and Michael wore his camouflage fatigues
After the Army, he never seemed without some tale, flickering images
Moments of comical whims delighting, inviting the twinkles, laughter
In Granny’s clear, blue eyes – alive with the love she had for him
The youngest boy of six siblings, all gone off on their own now
Inspired by the croaking frogs on the edges of a summer evening
Blended with hearts who were beating hope, light, love…
Before Michael would leave, dying beneath the heavy cruelty
His alcoholism wore him down to a shadow of the child she’d known
The man who laughed so that he seemed to vibrate, tremble
With the joy that poured forth from his throat, his wonderous light
It was summertime when he died and I mourned… oh, how I cried
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 11 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
August 3, 2022
Blame the parents
for rising their kids
with a foul language...
sins have a wage!
Only respect and morality
make good citizens of society,
but many like to poke fun
at anyone who can't run.
By looking at them one realizes
they came from unstable families:
their mother was a drunker,
and their father an abuser.
One of them wearing a Yankee cap
yells at the limping old lady out of shape,
" Fat cow, how many quarts of milk have gulped tonight?
You didn't wipe off that white mustache! Are you going to fart? "
And the elderly lady replied to that insult
" Watch your language, punk...I can fight! "
" Look at you! You walk like a turtle! "
she challenged her thinking she was feeble.
" Don't threaten me and get me mad, young lady!"
she brazed her legs expecting her
to suddenly fling and attack her;
" I used to play baseball...I'll knock you down easily! "
Taking a grim look at her, the slender and cynical girl
continued to abuse the obese lady by giving her hell,
" Taste this, it's going to hurt! " she yelled by punching the teenager hard
and once down, the motionless, breathless and bloody girl didn't get up.
Everybody panicked, shaking her trying to revive her,
" No pulse! No heartbeat! No breath! She's dead! "
The ambulance came five minutes after to take one to the morgue
and the other to the nearest hospital with a bleeding tongue.
It's very rare for a bizarre behavior to cause a sudden death,
and unfortunately one life was lost because that teen felt tough;
it's a warning to other youngsters, " Avoid such a confrontation
with people you think are too old to fight, always use precaution!"
Login’s For Me, Me, Me!
Some carers are shite, debasing and all that, not fit,
Because just when I’m speeding to end my session,
When they’ve come in on another patronising visit,
They come over, bend down and adjust their vision.
So I growl in a low voice “Wot?” and they even proceed,
To say “What are you doing?”, so I cover up the screen,
With my fist, glance to the kitchen, sit up and concede,
“Nothing,” then they recede back to where they’ve been.
I change my login each time a new carer starts,
‘Cos they peer, peer, peer at my action of entering,
The numbers, and don’t seem to understand their quarts,
Are not intelligent, that they are myself outmanoeuvring.
I can only change my passcode a certain few times,
Since I am not Kevin on Eggheads so only remember,
A handful of historical events for password recall oftimes,
And that memory efforts are not for my times of slumber.
It’s different if I’m playing a game, that’s communal,
High scores are topical and cheats are conversation,
But I never play, and even if I did, that’s personal,
‘Cos I’m not as quick anymore, feel like a station!
For years preachers have ranted and raved to control the activities of hookers!
Well, I'm proposin' that the guv-mint control the sale and use of pressure cookers!
We've seen the havoc these lethal weapons wreaked upon Olde Boston Towne.
Congress should act, now that the furor over gun control is settlin' down!
There should be background checks on little old ladies who have a yen for one,
And there should be a waitin' period to buy one just as there is for a gun!
Even though they may be designed to hold twelve quarts when locked and loaded,
Congress should limit capacity to six quarts so as not to be accidentally exploded!
I'm really concerned that I broached this urgent matter, upon serious reflection.
I fear some politico might read this and make it an issue to help in his reelection!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Two old guys who won ribbons each year
made a bet as the contest drew near:
If just one of them placed,
then the other, in haste,
would eat two quarts of chili, with beer.
For a change, kudos came to just one.
The hot chili with beer was no fun
for the poor loser Bart
who for two days did fart
while Joe Lee was hailed second to none.
October 5, 2021
I had a little misunderstanding 'bout a fellas size in shoes, the other night.
I said he wore a size eight boot, he said he wore a twelve, and you know he's right.
So Mister if you shake my hand, don't shake it all that hard, I may yell out,
'cos when they take the bandage off I may be able, just about,
To hold the contents of a half filled pint of stout.
And Lady if you're whispering sweet nothings in my ear, don't lean too close,
'cos when they sewed it back they couldn't match up all the pieces, it looks gross.
And a Taxi will be here in just a minute for to take this body home.
'cos that Gentleman outta the kindness of his heart,
Had volunteered to cure my wanderlust to Roam.
When they take the Cast off, I'll be able to walk
As good as any other man
Leastways a Man of Ninety that's been losin' touch with Reality, my friend.
And after the Plastic surgery you won't recognise me,I won't look the same.
At least that's what I'm hoping if this Guy should ever pass my way again.
Well I bought twen quarts of beer for him, and don't you know I had just one or two.
Then we decide to take a walk unto a Nightclub, where the Ladies all look fine.
And when the night was over the Conversation turns to which girl goes Home with Who.
But he don't talk nice, he just hits me twice, and I Hit the Road,
And he takes off with mine.
So i lie here in my Hospital bed and Crave in earnest
For a beer to Ease the Pain
As I gaze upon the Ceiling, as I listen to the Rhythm of the Rain
And I Sighed, as I Realised, i'd Socialised with a Certified Insane
And I hoped and prayed to god that he's just never gonna pass my way again.
The optical clear Brazil amethyst Smokey quarts rest on my third eye
I'm universe centered as my mind is drifting and floating in an unusual dizzy high
Heavy buzzing electricity penetrate my head deeply
my spirit was going through layered doors and I felt creepy
I felt my mind was being reprogrammed in space
my energy equilibrium was being realign from being unbalanced in the first place
talk about crazy stuff during my healing
going through something unexpected of what I'd be feeling!
part of me wonder if I was missing something on the other side
there was no return after my magic power stone died
I know the spirit of my house has changed a long time ago from reiki energy
this is what my dream spirit guide told me
I went to the store with a list on which my
wife had numbered 10 items. I bought
1 loaf of bread, 2 quarts of milk, 3 dozen eggs,
4....!!!!! (number 10 was a 10 lb bag of flour)
I tried to return a “free gift” once.
I bought one “forever stamp”, thinking
that was the only one I would ever need.
I asked once, if they had white wine at communion.
I carried a box of granola bars to work once when
on a diet. I ate 12 bars before lunch and never
lost an ounce.
I believed my doctor, when he said, “Charlie, I
don’t think it would hurt to check your prostate.”
Meaning that it would be a good idea. But he
was right. It didn’t hurt—after I passed out.
Once I didn’t pay attention to where I squatted in a
Cyprus knee swamp.
I tried to take a trigger fish off my hook by putting my
thumb in it’s mouth like a bass. He ate it like it was a bass.
I asked my wife to go on birth control. She had triplets.
She blamed it on me. Heck if It hadn’t been for me she
might have had a litter.
When I first got my cat I let it lick me on the face.
Then one day I saw what it licked when I wasn’t around.
© Jul 14 2010 For Joe's "Top Ten" contest
She drowns herself in pints and quarts
And finds solace in liquor bottles
She uses it to mend her broken hearts
Though she stumbles and topples
She decides her fate with alcohol
And speaks through sealed lips
And harshness bounces off her breath like a wall
After she has had a few sips
But dear God bless the tongue of the drunken
Lady, gentleman or naïve child
Blinded by the bliss of wild desires,
Wasted away like rubbish beguiled.