Best Shuck Poems
I was taking out my trash can
When I thought I saw a worm
But I realized it was a caterpillar
When the thing began to squirm
It crawled across the cobblestone
And made its way onto the grass
But when my puppy went to do his thing
It wound up on its a...
My puppy tried to get it off
By rolling in the dirt
He rolled so fast, came off his a...
And it landed on my shirt
It crawled onto my collar
Then, it crawled into my hair
So, I shuck my head and flung it off
And it flew into the air
A bird upon my roof-top
Caught the 'pillar in mid-flight
And fed it to his chickadees
Before they tweeted... a sweet Good Night!
Metrical Tale Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Hilo Poet
1/4/2023
Life was so carefree for me as a child, way back when
I was just a little girl who loved to dream and pretend
that I would grow up to be a doctor's nurse and mend
those who were hurt and sick. Their needs I would tend.
Way back then when I was ten, my world was small.
Dad was the man in my life. In my eyes he stood tall.
Working on our farm didn't seem like work at all
and when dinner was ready, we'd hear Mom's call.
My siblings and I had pets, but Bandi was my favorite one.
He'd wag his tail and run with me when my work was done.
He was a hunter and cocked his ears when Dad got the gun.
Way back then when I was ten, my life was filled with fun.
We didn't have a car, but on a farm we needed a truck.
When I honked the horn it made the silly chickens cluck.
It came in handy hauling our vegetables to earn a buck.
We sat in the flatbed when Dad said, "Corn to shuck."
I was a bit of a tom boy, never wanted to play with a doll.
My sister asked Santa for Barbie; my brother- a basketball.
All I wanted was a horse, but Mom was afraid I'd take a fall.
I heard a whinny in the morn; the tom boy began to bawl.
What few worries I had at ten, when life was so simplistic.
Too old to need a babysitter; too young to think of lipstick.
I chased lightning bugs at night, taught Bandi his new trick.
Those small parts of growing up are good memories that stick.
:.............................................................................:
January 24th, 2016 Way Back When I Was Ten Contest
Sponsored by Kelly Deschler
Tower, buzz and scurry
Oh great resilient city
Ahoy!
Alive. Scramble bustle earth's
ethnicities
On lurid quests--
A pendulum of tantric turmoil and
Blessed harmony
Quixotic city--brash,
Sangfroid merotomized and
Chrematistic--metro nonpareil.
See a myriad melange of
Tortured splenetic
Souls and great spirits
Noble and soothfast
Great city, your hecatombs
Of underground trains
Roar scream in
Hodge-podge graffiti attire
Fat fuming brattling buses
Grunt their huffpuffs,
And nervous cars scissorcut
Impatiently betwixt tarred and
Cemented streets
August and capacious
Ferruminated grey glass and steel
Towers--Aeeries in obeisance to the
Heavens, erupt in anabasis at the azure
Pearly welkin,
Humming diapasons of marvelous
Melismatic tunes
A gallimaufry of cacaphony and
Sweet sounds--the
Great Metropolis persistently
Thrives.
Streets adorned with sylph fashion
Models, conute churls, street
recrement--dazed and forgotten men,
Enticing shuck and jive
Blandishing street vendors,
Natty brujo business gentry
With their helotry on a
Ferris wheel of daily
Triumphs and defeats and
Cheeky mendicants
Shuffle along allegro vivace
Howling chorus songs amidst a
Torrent of raining dollars and
Coins floating in the skies over
The brazen metropolis.
Snuffling restaurants like hives
Humbuzz the grandiloquence,
Pithy slang and sententious
Persiflage of the day.
A truly syncratic parley
Of passions sentient
Of crimes basilic
Of arts sacerdotal and gratuitous
Of fashions arabesque and outre
Of plays frivolous and profound
Of music sericeous and truculent
Of money pursuits solonic
Of loves ascendant and descentdant
Of rejections mournful and joyous
An e'er persisting cha-cha-cha and
Boogie-woogie of the fierce
Bustling bubbling bold city,
Pendulumming pandaemoniums and
Resolutions, day
Upon pertinatious day.
David John Hart 2003 USA
Drought Riches in the Desert
my life is so dry
that I can fill the desert
lands fill the gulf and valleys
shuck pay dirt yet I'm
I am not rich yet so I
confess it's just grains of sand
11/01/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
“Pearl Diving” (Part 2)
Angel fish are pretty, but they’re boring that’s they’re lot
the Man O War is far too flashy, frivilous,
Octupi are too touchy feely always begging for the real thing way too early,
the Dolphins always laugh out loud, they’re overly boisterous show-offs
always trying to call the shots;
perhaps she’s best off lying in her Clamshell tight and small
for she is understanding now
the Clamshell has cast a spell o’er her
to stop all creatures in the deep from
hijacking her magic powers.
It’s comfortable and very warm, no need to leave her purse,
how could she leave what’s she’s only ever known behind;
better to sleep forever with the Clamshell as her nurse...
dream her dreams,
keep very still -
it couldn’t get much worse.
She’s shiny and she’s aged just right
the Clamshell protects her from the light,
she’s not a real jewel anymore
she’s a bottled up narcotic bright,
a little white pill zipped up in her hardened purse
to numb out all that sunken hurt.
He swims down to get a deeper look
the sunlight now dappling through the
hottest deepest lure of blue
thrashes his legs much harder now
to get the closest view.
He sees the sharks surrounding her
he checks his dorsal fin
he’s now become a predator
and she his treasure there within,
to somehow prize and shuck her
from her clammy milky mucous shell.
Such a beautiful sin he grinned and thought for a nano-second,
“Maybe I can win”.
Somewhere in the distance from the surface way up above,
he hears a mermaid call down to him, her silky voice enticing him,
her echolocation surrounding him,
through all those other fish making such a blasted bubbly din,
“It’s mine.” the voice whispers mysteriously in his ears, “ I’m playing this, it's mine, a life to win”.
(Lovejoy-Burton/ December 2017)
"Aqualung", Morcheeba
https://youtu.be/xxHL5szgThQ
palm
at jersalum he got crusified
last supper
man of god
sun of god diyed for us
univesul shuck red
nothing sceard him on that day
deturmanation of no man befor
and he is the son of god
your lord and savier if you let him
Aye did not heed the maxim be careful
what you wish for,
cuz now adversity not abate
perhaps helpful for thee reader
if this bard ****
did apprise present woe
by turning time machine backdate
asper how the fickle finger
of thine existence didst create,
a more agonizing situation discerning
scythe leant presaging grim reaper date
now welcomed with
opened arms to extricate
fools paradise by twist,
and shout of cruel fate
e'en locked up in a damp, dank,
and dark dungeon more grate
full, than full blown wraith zing hate
now lemme summarize
woe of this ingrate
where reprieve of death,
would be to good for me to jubilate
perhaps immolation, thence
at the stake burnt offerings
presented to the
"FAKE" trumpeting khanate
hence complete annihilation
the only way to liberate
a guilty conscious weighted down
by Sisyphean sized mill stones
now whit tis time mate
to acknowledge, and try to numerate
whereat one issue found me
reneging and being obdurate
on reimbursing me youngest daughter,
who could not pontificate
why she needed to fork
over monies in relation
to overpayment re
guarding social security,
essentially incumbent on me
on me eek quate
ting to a sizable tidy sum,
finding yours truly i rate
yet refund check she sent
over a year ago, and spate
of anger (born by eldest lass)
unforgivable egregious stonewalling
do to procrastination trait
this papa (rightfully my responsibility)
objects to bearing
brunt of arithmetical error
plus my own meager
very limited fiduciary reserves
induces anxiety to undulate
thus becoming fancy free
and foot loose bachelor
appears as emotionally
cannibalistic (ready
to jump off a bridge)
to shuck off this unbearable weight.
A farmer owned a farm in Iowa.
In vain, he toiled and labored every day.
He'd pick his corn and shuck it,
And pour it into buckets;
Then crows would steal the corn and fly away.
A slight tingle tickles my toes;
as I slip reality's grip.
And leaving behind all my woes,
I imagine a moonlight dip.
The gilded waves anoint my brow;
releasing untethered feelings.
And on leaving the here and now;
I achieve heights without ceilings.
Euphoric waters ebb and flow;
adrift on life's fast-flowing stream.
And as entanglements let go,
consciousness slips into a dream.
Like vapors wafting off the sea;
I shuck earthly shackles that bind.
And a wave washes over me;
as tranquility calms my mind.
When focused on meditation,
my heart and soul merge into one.
And approaching exaltation,
I see God's light, bright as the sun.
his eyelids conclude why bother
manacled they led him away
to the exact center of their city
they tried everything
cattle prod fire hose blow dryer
ineluctable forces of nature
now there are wires in his head
his neo-cubist portrait
ended up on bags of dog food
have you seen this child
we make too many monsters on this planet
a petting zoo of pretty spiders
eager to charm uneager to learn
ever-ready to change the subject
claiming that this is the normal milieu
leaping from euphemism to euphemism
preconceptions luridly arrayed
detour around the temple kids
there’s mobsters in heaven
they don't tell you that but it is true
they run the gambling arcade of faith
the will he or won’t he tables
it should be clear by now that
prayer does not ward off plague
even for the willfully superficial
should we all be capable of greatness
or blind credulity you decide
behold the universe in all its
partly comprehensible splendor
the design that stuns with perfection
and then kills you so slowly
that your DNA begins to tell you
how when and what to think
it couldn't be more or less blatant
drifting the eddies of a potential thing
in which the impossibility happened
at least we know how to know more
stray as you wish
into the arms of beauty
and rub against her silks and furs
make her moan the irony the irony
her paranoia may be an entrance
but live for today is a sham
and a shuck and a jive
because tomorrow always comes
this is a mathematical given
the human condition
used to be stated as lost
now at least it’s curious
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
The day is coming alas
A coming storm rolling in fast
Darker than any cloud over the cast
When day turns to everlasting night
Will we be forced into a blind fight?
Will we see clearly without light?
A storm heavy in mass
A catastrophic event may be our last
Darkness looms, growing vast
Signs of a apocalypse
Still we're blinded by trivial events
Final hours of our days, nearing eclipse
The coming storm forewarns
Awaiting to shuck us like corn
A harvest accompanies the final horn
What say you when a pig bathe in a muddy muck?
When he rolls merrily like 'tis panacea to his strain?
Don't you gawk at the amazing shuck
Could be to you 'tis a flaunt to his inert brain.
But how honey he embraces the muck-
When the sizzling lust for food slaps!
'Tis where he tanks up the lack
'Tis a divan for his daily naps
He rolls in it with sheer fun and joy,
Swaps spit with inner pathogens
To him's as sweet as the delicacy of soy
And dirt seems excite no antigens
But fools we the lookers
Who hate the act but love the actor
We're the daytime chaplains an' night's hookers
Musing the worthier and fudging the obvious factor
Don't we rear 'em and keep them?
And butcher 'em for pork?
And for sale don't we adulate 'em like gem?
Then why dub 'em berk?
With us is the knowledge and power-
To keep and care for these pigs
We can give 'em genial scour
And see 'em as moral prigs
NB: Exclusively for pig lovers.
Try to understand the natural meaning of this poem
Nile spreads through the valley like a snake
Pyramids look awesome in rays of sun about to wake
Pyramids are strong constructions can even take small earthquake
They are made of limestone granite or bricks that in sun would bake
It is a grand ancient tomb
But for pharaohs’ soul it is a womb
The place where spirit will bloom
So gate to heaven is the tomb
There are pyramids in many places
But England is more famous for stone filling round spaces
Main stone sun at time of equinox and solstice faces
Is there a distant correlation between those two add places
If one researches them it will be found
They were both used as burial ground
One being a great mound
The other circle with stones when hit emitting clear sound
But perhaps there is something that left no physical clue
But that predates the two
And I believe it to be true
That black shuck to its existence last remaining clue
I don’t know wheatear it was actually build cubit by cubit
Or does it exist only in spirit
But if it would be build it would be round pyramid with a summit
Cone, round like Stonehenge lines meeting in pyramid like summit
The lines depict all the dimensions of vortex that mixes time
And the summit is place most prime
Most sublime
This is where lines of destiny growth intersect growth of divine at top of the climb
And black shuck with its Cyclops like eye
Looking at the midnight sky
It is a guardian of that structure that reaches the sky
Where some people go after they die
Like a pyramid it is a tomb
But like it is also a womb
Where greatest of spirits bloom
And the fearsome black dog is guardian of that sacred room
Unfaithful marital transgressions
self admitted indictment,
crime and punishment,
no longer think high lee
entailing no mister re: demeanors,
I searingly weathered
(George by bushed, albeit thankfully,
no unwanted child left behind),
nonetheless one unforgettable
indelible, execrable, and abominable
professedly owned his
civil warring battle of life
transgressions undeservedly heaped
(Uriah hit about that)
(carnal feral hormonally seething
gone astray nightwalks)
woven by basket of deplorable
emotionally painful selfish object lesson
forever etched upon mine psyche
(left by one bobbing sponge -
cheeses crust station of his life
within sea of human life now
affixes moniker re: mister crabs)
inflicted courtesy yours truly
said marital indiscretion (philandering)
one among many issues discussed,
during treatment plan earlier today
February eighteenth 2020
concerning complex edifice
regarding mein kampf
existential bleak house
(figuratively crowded cheek to jowl)
with and hard times
fraught with many
unattained great expectations
unwittingly accepts psychological fallout
(among kissing kith and kin,
a shellfish chicken and hen thing for sure),
despite years elapsed ex post facto
deploying, incorporating, narrating, signifying...
narcissistic, opportunistic, and phlegmatic
self incriminating doom
visualize deus ex machina
betrayal rendered adopted smugness
invariably set in motion domino effect,
whereby emotional alienation
devastation, humiliation, maturation, suppuration
(yoking impossible mission
to shuck off penitence, the price to pay),
thus rightfully, truthfully, and veritably...
ably, readily, and willingly
allowing, enabling, and providing
incomplete resolution, (hence iresolution)
thwarting rancor thy deux daughters
(livingsocial many time zones distant)
embark quest to guide their own
metaphorical maiden voyaging ships of state
countless transpired hours
at counseling facility, where poetic papa
aired and mulled over bothersome
anguish to complete requisite treatment plan
to receive psychiatric appointment
next (and last) Tuesday of February 2020.
ON BARR TRAIL
the going is steep –
twenty-five percent grade –
twelve miles to the top
legs tire already
we plan to go half way up
to where the trees stop
from there only rock
and no beauty in the climb
we brought a feast
some four miles along
we happen on a meadow,
all nature at peace,
and this silver stream
directly across the path
glistening the rocks
wonderful to be
on this perfect forest glade
we shuck shoes and sox,
roll the pebbles round
wash our aching arms and legs
and luxuriate
then we see a fawn
standing by the wooded edge
feasting without fear
in such surroundings –
this hidden mountain haven –
we sense god is near
no continuing
timberline will have to wait
other time and date
...........................................
From Manitou Springs
Barr Trail goes to the top of Pike's Peak