Best Races Poems
On the starting grid for the zimmer frame races
Ready to put themselves through their paces
No cheating girls - don’t go tying shoelaces
Or there will be embarrassed red faces
Lined up on the starting grid
Prize is a cuppa and a quid
ON YOUR MARKS..
GET SET
GO SLOWWWWWWWWWW
But off like rockets charge Ethel and Flo
Wheel to wheel at the very first corner
Ethel cuts in - she should have warned her
Flo gives her a knowing look
No cheating Ethel – you’ll get a right hook
They cross the line together - I’m glad I didn’t bet
Sandwiches, cake and tea is all ready and set
Best of friends they sit and enjoy a chatter
Who’s first past the winning post – it really doesn’t matter!
16TH April 2015
At the firefly races,
where the viewing is good:
the magical places
near the edge of the wood
and wide open spaces.
At the firefly races,
adrenaline flowing;
they're fearless, courageous.
Their engines are glowing;
excitement: contagious.
At the firefly races,
their course is uncertain.
For near half an hour,
they're fast and they're flirtin',
displaying their power.
At the firefly races,
don't let this be over;
feels like we just got here.
Traipse home through the clover;
it's the best time of year.
Horses stand waiting
Some face the wrong way
Jockey's with colours
Astride are they
They await the starter
Who runs up the tape
Equine line up
Await their fate
Sixteen fences
Two circuits ahead
Once your over
The fence you have read
The crowd cheers
As they are on their way
Notorious fences
Between them and their day
Beecher's Brook, The Chair to name
A challenge at best
Bring both
Horse racing fame
Horse and rider
Now ride as one
To finish first
The winning one
To join the elite
The likes of the past
Red Rum three times
That record will last
Animal and man
United so
Now the fences are toned down
Watch them go
Aintree, Liverpool
On this joyous day
Equine and human
Share this sporting display
Jumping Jim just loved his sack,
Two feet in he'd jump up and back,
He went in sack races every time
He and his sack had a chance to shine,
Just a shame it's not an event on the track.
While all parked in their separate places
Couples were watching the Submarine Races
Trying hard not to show their faces
The chicks with all of their graces
Put their tops back on - their Chantilly Laces!
"Camptown Races sing this song, Do Dah! Do Dah!"
( sung incessantly by a certain, unique rooster.)
Henry Hawke: ( Sung to Holly Jolly Christmas:)
" I'll be there and back by sunset.
There's a chicken there for me!
Mom and Dad will be proud, you bet!
when a chicken, they'll see!"
Henry: ( Sung to Arkansas Traveler:)
" I think that there's a chicken, yes, indeed!
No need to check, that's a chicken, yes, siree!
I know that that's a chicken , yes, indeed!
Even though he has a snout for pecking at the seed!"
POW! ( cue woozy music.)
Barnyard Dog:
Hey, wait a minute, kid!
Have you flipped your lid!"
Henry:
" I hit you a good one and I'm the winner!
Now come along with me! You're what's for dinner!"
Barnyard Dog:
" Eh, kid.. I'm a dog, don't you get it!
Now, scram! Before I make you regret it!"
" Camptown races, sing this song..
I say , I say.. it's not the words,
son, it's the song
It kind of.. eh, moves me along, err.."
Henry:
" Oh, the shame!
The family name!
Life for me will never be the same!"
Barnyard Dog:
" Someone's given you the bum steer!"
He looks at Henry crying.
" Kind of gets you right here..
Tell ya, what, kid!
I'll give you a real clucker with all the feathers!
Now listen to me, the sooner the better.." Pss. psst. pss..
"Camptown Races, Uhh, oh, I say, I say..
What do we have here?!
An unholy alli, alli alli, joining together.
and the word is ..Beware!"
I say, son!
What are, what are you doing here
in my little slice of paradise?!"
Henry:
"Ehh, Mister Cock-a-Doodle Doo..
I'd turn around if I were you!"
"Heh, heh heh..
Obviously, this boy believes
that I was born yesterday
if not the day before!
Let me lead him on a little more.."
"Just what am I supposed to see, there, ehh, son?
The rising moon? The setting sun? Heh, Heh, Heh.."
BAM!
"I, I, I think I've been way layed.
I, I, better look for some shade.."
PLOP!
"That boy's got more nerve than a bum tooth!
ehh, that's a joke, son!
Miss Prissy! My my time has come too soon!"
Eeee, THUD!
Henry and Barnyard Dog( together.):
"Geez, What a maroon!"
Cue the Looney Tunes end music.
(" Eer.. That's your cue, son!")
" Can't find no good cartoon help these days!" THUD!
THAT'S ALL FOLKS!
I love the clean air, breathe the clean air,
I hunt the clean air in the race,
I want that distance between me and the field,
When they are all up for the chase,
Around the hairpin, through the chicane,
Stuck in the smallest tight fight in the groove,
And we all hop the kerb as we smoke up the tyres,
And we spin, twist and slide on the move,
Trying not to T-bone, not throw a belt,
Threading the car like a pin in top gear,
All cherishing the roar going down the main straight,
As the crowd all let out a cheer.
I love the power of the drums as cylinders dance,
I love the explosion of the wheel on the tar,
I love the thrill of the moment winning the race,
When I race everyone else in my car.
AN UGLY VISITOR, CORONA VIRUS
We have an ugly visitor;
Corona Virus is his name.
He's prowling like a predator
With an aim to devour or maim.
He disregards every convention.
Schools, airlines,... he shuts down;
Doctors are in his line of elimination
As he locks down town after town!
Countries are wearied from burying people.
Caterpillars are full time grave diggers.
Coffins in a grave are multiple.
Little attention is paid to mourners!
He's the newsmaker of the year,
If there is still such a thing!
For indeed different times are here;
It's a new world of Corona's making!
He found people living in peace,
At least peace as we' had come to know it.
Being, as he is, a life changing disease,
He despoiled in a manner rabied!
"Everyone has to stay at home,
Then the virus will not travel!
No spectators for any sort of game
Or sitting at a bar with a liquor bottle!"
He cares little about national pride.
He looks down upon local wars
Or the special day of a bride!
He shuts down both bank and bourse!
Corona has eclipsed every concern:
Major issues are whitewashed!
How food for your children you will earn
Is rendered insignificant and quashed!
"Call the intelligent men of the land!
Let them cast their lots and tell
When this distress is going to end!
Bring all tools this curse to quell!"
It's been ten months and there's still no cure
Except the recommended hygiene methods.
Governments and institutions must procure
Personal protection and nutrition needs.
The world is hoping for a vaccine,...
Earnestly hoping for a miracle:
That the journey to a medicine
May indeed prove a shorter cycle!
Maybe Corona will make us one:
Oriental, Caucasian, African, all one race,
And all the living under the sun,
Might learn to have a little more grace!
There's an excercycle race on
Down at the local gymn
One guy's clearly out in front
But others closing in
All are pedalling frantically
They like to win these races
Each one with a determined look
As sweat pours down their faces
There's an exercycle race on
Down at the local Gym
This one's for ladies only
It's part of keeping trim
Each one of them has extra fat
A reservoir in case
Additional energy's required
To make the finals race
There's an exercycle race on
Down at the local gym
Vast calories are burning off
A race for life and limb
The mirrors on the wall will show
A worthy use of time
As most entrants likely should admit
They're more than past their prime
In the exercycle races
Down at the local gymn
At least one person's thinking on
What it is that's asked of him
All this time and money spent
Just maybe could be making power
To put on to the national grid
Then charged out by the hour
If we could store this energy
For use in something good
Like the greening of the planet
Then we probabubbly should
In some big battery somewhere
Or tank or holding pond
And draw on it when lakes are dry
Next summer and beyond
(Note: This poem was written shortly after the 2022 Olympics and after Richard Branson and Jeff Bezos rode their rockets in a new space race for billionaires.)
Races
By Mark D. Stucky
Our country had a Space race
to beat Russians to the moon.
Decades ago, we left lunar footprints
and brought back rocks and selfies.
Rival billionaires build rockets now
for suborbital joyrides above.
We periodically join Olympic races
to go fractionally faster than others
for prestige and multi-metal medals.
Hosting countries spend billions
to applaud athletic bodies.
But for all that cash and hype,
we get no cure-for-cancer hope,
but viral spread and doping.
Our world needs better races
toward things that truly matter.
We require a Race race
to travel much faster
toward equity and healing
than ever gone before.
While we wish for a quick sprint,
a marathon is what we’re running.
Ending slavery long ago,
this race’s qualifying heat,
was just one stride
beyond the starting line.
Jim Crow still taints the track.
Systems still are prejudicial.
Supremacists still conspire.
Voting rights still are suppressed.
Vigilantes still chase and shoot.
Police still harm the unarmed.
This crucial marathon
has many miles to go,
but if we struggle to the end,
contenders might all be winners.
(Originally published in Small Town Anthology VIII: Entries from the Eighth Annual Tournament of Writers, Vicksburg Cultural Arts Center, 2022. See also my poems "Closed Community Prejudice (an Alphabetized Memoir)," "Weapons of Wonder," and "Hate Vacuuming?")
(Image by Braden Collum on Unsplash.com.)
One night way out by the Old Beach
I started out being a leech.
While watching the Submarine Races
I almost made it to all of her bases
Till she moved back just out of my reach.
She cried ,"Tomorrow you won't respect me!"
I pleaded, "Why do you now reject me?"
Then my next line worked all of its charm:
"You know I would never do you any harm."
And my passionate plea did protect me.
But the time had gone by way too fast
And the rendezvous wasn't to last;
It started to drizzle,
The mood did a fizzle
And the magic spell suddenly passed.
Yet, on the way home she told me
She wanted to kiss and to hold me.
So, what else could I do?
I hugged her, kissed her, too;
Again and again she consoled me!
“Jesus loves the little children
All the children of the world:
Red and yellow, black and white
They are precious in God’s sight…
Jesus loves the little children of the world.”
Our kids’ Sunday School chorus
reverberates with this simple message:
love of God for and to all He created
anchoring equality’s verity
defying racial discrimination-attitude
springing from vain arrogance
over “my color is better than yours.”
Having exactly the same Source of breath
designed to bear the Sovereign’s image
we are encouraged to optimize
granted grace and blessings
since we are on equal footing, enjoying free oxygen
wafting freedom toward functional progress
bestowed by the Creator of heaven and the earth.
Being vessels of love
endowed with hope’s gladness
we children can fulfill varied roles with utmost best
midst faith that propels assigned tasks and chores
never affected, not even afflicted by races’ distinctive traits
since we complement every one
for great global blending.
We are the next generation
taught to respect one another
starting from our family’s legacy
of good partnership sealed by kindness
treating brothers and sisters with care
marked by sharing and helping
since all of us belong to one human race.
“Jesus loves the little children
All the children of the world:
Red and yellow, black and white
They are precious in God’s sight…
Jesus loves the little children of the world.”
*Genesis 1:27 So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.
June 24, 2021
7th place, "Critical Race Theory" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Anthony Biaanco; judged on 7/21/2021.
THE DOGSLED RACES
Restless yaps
Teams of champion hearts
Race the dark
Victoria Anderson -Throop
12/27/12
Home: Valdez, Alaska
All The World Races Away , While I Pause
I will write yet again this sweet night,
cows need milking , the barn cleaning.
Sunny morn but this place is a sore sight,
critters need feeding, fence is leaning!
I will hold my thoughts until sunset,
a chore that allows me to still give.
Sure life is a gamble, a very sad bet
yet we must learn to love and let live!
Do not sorrow for my poor saddened cause,
there is gold in the clouds, a kiss awaits.
All the world races away , while I pause
to tempt her and curse the darker fates!
Standing on the precipice to now decide.
Does one rage on to live or race away to hide?
Robert J. Lindley, 07-16-2015
Well the morons are in the race
A little behind but their keeping pace
Running at a close last
I see its the idiots they finally passed
don’t pull your bets: its not over yet
I see the imbeciles sneaking up on the left
Well the out comes unsure of a race finally won
But of the five judges only three have their thumbs
We look to the other judges in the show
Both of them quibbling so I don’t think they know
Now to the contestants to get their thoughts
Who really won and what was the cost?
The moron explains that the sweat their eyes
Prevented them from seeing, but know the judges don’t lie
While the idiot is sprawled-out on the ground
Their # 1 finger never went down
The imbeciles eyes were lit by his grin
Their only comment was “so I really did win”