Best Shoot The Breeze Poems
Paula parrot is my name. I'm from the wild, but now I'm tame
A chatterbox who likes to talk!
Have news to share? Let's take a walk!
Now tell me what's the latest scoop?
Oh! Watch your step! There's Dodo poop!
I often fly around the zoo, and likely make a friend or two
Some call it weird, or quite absurd, to chatter with the other birds
I like to share a joke or two, with Ollie Ostrich, and Ed Emu
I can't deny, I wouldn't lie, I look the Cuckoos in the eye
We shoot the breeze, and share some pie
and when I leave, with teary eyes, they flap their wings, and bid "Good Bye!"
I pass on by, then say "G'day", to Hoppy-Hobo Kangaroo
I greet Giraffe, we share a laugh, a "How are you??" to Mr. Gnu!
I chat while the Chimps, do acrobats, and say "Ell...o" to Elephants...
Poor Tiger's throat is very sore.......he's caught a bug, and cannot roar!
I offer honey for his grrrrrrrr.....so he can growl, just as before!!
For Penguins shivering on the ice,...I gave them boots, and sage advice
(They are rather bashful....but very nice!)
I'll take a swim with Dolphin friends, then saddle up, my pal, the Whale
He wants to know some shocking news, and promises he'll never tell.
Zack the Zebra can't decide, so dresses up in black and white
He's my friend! We never fight! Whether black or white, or fancy stripes!
They are all my friends and what's to lose? Lucky me, with friends to choose
It seems bizarre to talk to those, who live a life behind those loathsome bars...
So, if you like to talk a lot....give strolling through the zoo a shot!!
______________
For Contest sponsored by Constance La France ..."Z" 12/31/13
It seems like only yesterday
When memories flash through the mind
So near they seem, yet years away
As distant stars are so inclined
They live on in a photograph
It seems like only yesterday
We'd shoot the breeze and share a laugh
And party till the break of day
Memories orbit near they say
And time has left behind its scars
It seems like only yesterday
Destiny glimmered in the stars
We reminisce as years depart
As if to keep the time at bay
We keep memories close at heart
It seems like only yesterday
5-15-2021
[A poem to celebrate the 350th anniversary of Newton's discovery of gravity]
Sir Isaac Newton is my name;
I have a certain reputation,
Philosopher of great acclaim
Amongst the proud men of this nation.
With many problems I would grapple,
Not least of which concerned an apple.
I’d often laze beneath the trees
On long and balmy summer days,
And there with friends I’d shoot the breeze,
Expound ideas in many ways.
But then in lone activity
I framed the laws of gravity.
Studying mechanics, optics,
The bible and astronomy;
Also mathematics, physics,
The natural world and alchemy,
My jealous peers, they criticised
And often I was ostracized.
But I was knighted by the Queen
And my inventions gave men hope.
Stars and planets could be seen
With my reflecting telescope –
No rainbow colours to detract.
I’ve made my mark and that’s a fact !
Make Love Not War
I want to plant sugar-mines,
that blow on footfall’s touch,
they slap you on the calfs and
thighs and splash chocolate
on your crotch
then quickly I’ll plant cleavage
bombs, the things they do with
cream! And unexploded areola
squads, will lick the red parts clean
We’ll have such fun with pumpkin
gun, and quietly shoot the breeze,
while in the trees I’ll gently squeeze
your bum and stroke your knees
and when all our monkeys settle down,
and chickens from behind, without a
war we’ll live our lives …..why can’t we
just be kind?
So make love not war, it’s fun to score
and make the rafters shake, and in the night
between the two, a spicy cake to bake!
Old Friends
Come, sit with me and share some idle talk,
Of cabbages and kings, of life and death.
Or else, perhaps, opining as we walk,
We could discuss some current shibboleth.
We’ll wile away the day just as we please,
While deconstructing pop philosophy.
No topic is taboo, we’ll shoot the breeze
With politics mixed with theology.
Together we will save the planet Earth,
Preventing climate change from getting worse.
And when we’re done with that, for what it’s worth,
We’ll solve the riddles of the universe.
We’ll talk the talk and talk the walk and then
Tomorrow we will do it all again!
It's been 10 years today since you stood here with me.
Looking back now I realize I just couldn't see.
The pain and the torment you carried inside.
There was nowhere left to run and nowhere to hide.
Can we please spend sometime...just you and me
and try to recapture how things use to be.
We'd laugh till we cried...but it wasn't enough.
Sometimes looking back is more than just tough.
My focus back then was a yard of perfection.
It's funny how events can cause a correction.
The yard that I then took so much pride in,
I now find that I frequently hide in.
Can we please spend sometime...just you and me
and try to recapture how things use to be.
We'd laugh till we cried...but it wasn't enough.
Sometimes looking back is more than just tough.
The hours went by...he was so calm and patient
Tomorrow would be his birthday celebration.
He gave me a hug...just out of the blue.
I was caught so off guard I didn't know what to do.
Can we please spend sometime...just you and me
and try to recapture how things use to be.
We'd laugh till we cried...but it wasn't enough.
Sometimes looking back is more than just tough.
We had his 27th birthday at our house that year.
When it was over, he asked me quite clear. Would you want to
come over to spend time with me...
we could watch movies, eat, or just shoot the breeze.
I said not today, they'll be plenty more chances.
I felt sorta bad as I saw his sad glances.
Can we please spend sometime...just you and me
and try to recapture how things use to be.
We'd laugh till we cried...but it wasn't enough.
Sometimes looking back is more than just tough.
The next day the world stopped as our son passed away.
What went through his mind is so hard to say.
His voice it rings out everyday of the year...give your love first
and you may never hear...
Can we please spend sometime...just you and me
and try to recapture how things use to be.
We'd laugh till we cried...but it wasn't enough.
Sometimes looking back is more than just tough.
P.R.Deremer
Sixty-four Forevermore
By Franklin Price
6/4/2018
Sixty-four forevermore
This month it has been fifty-four
In cap and gown walked down the aisle
The memories still make me smile
Many together all the years
From one through twelve from milk to beers
Sometimes bad but mostly good
Day to day lived as we should
No air condition in the school
To skip a day was sometimes cool
The beach was calling out our name
To not be caught part of the game
On week-end nights a drive-in show
To watch or not you never know
With luck a date to share the scene
Sometimes distracted from the screen
We also met at the tastee-freeze
Or the A&W to shoot the breeze
To see each other and be seen
The dining drive-in had no screen
Spoke to each other face to face
While snacking at a drive-in place
No cell phones then to help our fate
We did not text to find a date
Those were the days at least I think
To friends from then I raise my drink
I toast you all to end this rhyme
Those days I think a better time
A red planet of cheese…wow!..
we could shoot the breeze together,
while sinking to our knees, in the red
sand dune brie, or interstellar camembert
It’s all the same if you please, a moon of
Sleaze and a Mars made of cheese:
Tease!!??.. me never..let’s take the space
elevator at four..pack your things…off we
shoot! Gruyere and cheddar what a hoot!
It sheer is nice to munch all night
and all day, too, with Byron’s crew
of sheep, that is, that wander ‘neath
his walnut grove, that’s old and true.
Hey, baa baa Babe, don’t you run away
you’re missing tons of fresh, green hay
meanwhile baa baa Bob, whose teeth are long
wanders in circles ‘cuz he has brain fog.
Poor baa baa Ben is growing rather bored
he nibbles walnut shells for show and tell
‘cuz he wants the lady sheep to know
he’s available to frolic for a spell.
Yep, it’s real nice to meet and greet
at this sheep convention across the street
to congregate and shoot the breeze
until they get hay fever and suddenly sneeze…
…achoo, baa, baa, achoo!
Love
When it hits you like a ton of bricks
Wham!
You're down for the count
1.2.3...
You're up!
Your eyes rise to the sky
only to catch a falling star
for a split second
Whoosh!
Then it's gone
You walk away
beat
then you see your old buddy Jack
"Jack!"
you shout out
and he shouts back too
You go to the local coffee shop
only to find what you ran away
from
You look to your left
and in the corner
with his sometimes girlfriend
is a young punk
all dressed in black
They sit and shoot the breeze
about nothing at all
or even in particular
You walk further
and chat with the owner
about old times and good coffee
You proceed to sit
on the ragged and torn old couch
that reminds you of a couch
your parents once had back when
Kool & The Gang were cool
and whenever you heard
Earth, Wind, & Fire
it really was a celebration
Your old buddy Jack
sits along side of you
and you talk of good times
and lost loves
you'll never see again
Then all of a sudden
Whoosh!!!!
It hits your ear like a frieght train
The cool sounds of Miles Davis
trump-trump-trumpeting
like no one else can
and then you think
"You know Jack, he sounds like I feel"
and you move on to talk about
the emotion and soul of jazz
As you sip your last sip of
coffee you remember what you
were looking for
Love
That funny and mysterious thing
that everyone longs for but
few truly have
So you hit the back streets
that are all but unfamiliar to
you as a kid
and you keep searching....
You keep searching
for that crazy thing
called love
But the question remains
"Did you find it Jack?"
Wherever they gather, on the porch or nigh a glowin' flame,
The conversation of older folks is just about the same.
Invariably, they'll discuss their aches, pains and weather,
Anytime two or more of them chance to git together!
Oh, they may git around to addressin' crops and the lack of rain,
Or discuss politics and religion or somethin' along that vein.
Perhaps they'll grouch about taxes or politicians' inane blather,
Or talk about their aches, pains and weather when they gits together!
The healing powers of fish oil with omega three they might compare,
Or the behavior of kids nowadays, "its a sight", they do declare,
Wonderin' why folks don't rein 'em in and keep 'em on a tether.
And they'll talk aches, pains and weather when they gits together!
Older folks may reminisce about the simpler days of yore,
And the flagrant lack of respect and courtesy anymore,
Or they may opt to sit in stoic silence or elect whether,
To discuss their aches, pains and weather when they gits together!
When a clutch of older folks gits together to shoot the breeze,
They've earned the right to talk about anything they please!
But you'll likely find that they chat about their aches, pains and weather,
Most everytime several of them choose to git together!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
When they draped the flag on your coffin mate
I was dumb, dead with it-
they ought to at least give you one last chance
to dance the dance of life-
you were the grass growing and the earth
firm beneath our feet,
you were the cotton on our backs the day
we sweated for glory on the pitch man!
The ball sailed right through every eye in the stadium
shot like a bolt straight into your hands,
feet that float and fly away, man what a sight!
You were there the day we found the champagne
in Searge's knapsack, we were soused,
so soused we just made it to parade with the west wind in our eyes
pulling the tears onto our faces, the day we went away-
the day we went to the desert
the day they took us in the Humvee
the day the Humvee bucked high like a grasshopper
leapin’ straight up
straight up-
the day we looked and you were a man with two arms and
we cried to see the legs gone, the legs you sent
like two pistons of dynamite
across the pitch like a piece of high-octane rocket-maniac
after that beaut of a ball,
the day we swore we'd come and drink your health,
stack the cans out back the way we used to
and shoot the breeze, bring it all on, let it all out-
we cried, Paul and Johnny- you remember?
Don't know if we cried
the day Crazy Connie died-
So it all comes down
to a flag here on the coffin and the guns
that they shoot to salute when you leave-
Donnie you were gentle and you shook our world.
Never had such a dear friend as John John
Sure like to meet him one day before I'm gone gone
Over a cuppa or three
We could shoot the breeze
Hey I could wear my pretty sarong, is that wrong wrong
© Jack Ellison 2015
They want to tax our axes
Then, take away our trees.
They impose cell phone taxes.
Then, laugh and shoot the breeze.
Lodges, matches, bridges, britches,
Dresses, dishes, finches, fishes.
Hinges, hitches, hedges, hearses,
Lenses, lynxes, luscious lashes…
They dip their hands in every pot.
Spreading wealth around they say…
Big Business taxes are a lot…not!
The newfangled economic way –
The middle class will love to pay!
© January 29, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen
Am I not exactly what you wanted to believe in.
You move through thoughts as smoke through the air invasive and sticky sticking to the conscious a millisecond per nanosecond hovering just there just long enough to register… the register your chemicals pattern know their way and flood and flow just enough to not let you know of what your unscious plans are for you,
And many have told you your profile is becoming and now you only speak to people with head turned and your eyes askew,
Hardwired into your physiology, your superior rectus and medial rectus on overtime,
Should you have the time to shoot the breeze…
You left me standing in Mont Martre dealing solo with the street vendors, who wanted the Euro and a peek up my skirt all the while trying to rip me off
Their invasive eyes spying at my legs…their psyches at full mast attempting to tempt me to part with currency. I am fluent in foolish.
Am I not exactly what you wanted me to believe in?
You are lost at sea, damaged and wave-weary desiring so much to reach a shore,
To hear a voice, hold a hand, human connection. You intentionally albeit unknowingly keep your self at sea, professing the need for solid earth under your feet
while all the while you wile-
away your time
upon salted, foam-crested waves you keep your mast full -- wind behind you directing you maintain your aqueous journey…It is the longing and pain you keep close to your breast. The longing is what you don’t profess: The longing is what you live for.
Are you not exactly what I wanted to believe in?