Best Slingshot Poems
Forgive intrusion in the fray
I'm making comments today
Tom's limericks, three
were cute as can be
But of Kim and Jack, I must say.....
We all know how well Kim can write
She graces each page of the site
But limerick queen
Jan is a machine
There's no cause to argue or fight (all done in fun)
Limerick's have a syllable count
Ya can't use just any ol amount
Jack uses too many
His words aplenty
It's a problem he must surmount
It's the same with Shakespeare's sonnet
No matter whose name is on it
There's one Scotland Yard
And only one Bard
No imitators, doggone it
Don't get stalled with rhyme and meter
Sometimes prose can read much sweeter
Write what's in your heart
Poetry is art
Pick up your pen and don't teeter
No showdowns here; we're having fun
Put away your slingshot and gun
Not calling the law
Just havin' a jaw
Don't run me out of town...I'm done
Armadilly came galloping into Troll Lake, bent on seeking a new life, to unwind.
He’d rode out of the Badlands, leaving only a trail of blowing dust and leaves, behind.
His steady stead Jalopy had been pounding feet, relentlessly with powerful strides.
Rearing up, Armadilly stopped before our Troll Bridge with his slingshot at his side.
I could see, he rode the sleekest mount, and the biggest tortoise, that I had ever seen.
Man that armadillo knew his tortoise flesh… this was the fastest one, ever been!
I would say: he truly looked, the devil’s mount… with glowing, fire stocked eyes.
The stranger named himself as Armadilly, but his true identity, could not be denied.
He was really Armadilly Billy, The Slingshot Kidster, as he bowed to us, so very low.
With a yes Ma'am, and a no Sir, he was smooth and could charm, near any old soul.
The Trolls loved him for the spell binding stories, that at the campfire, he gave away.
He never talked about his past, but we knew who he was, without being told, that day.
The rumor had it that Sheriff Bunny Garret had shot him dead, on one fateful day.
Another said he’d faked his death, heading south to Mexico, his life to live away.
But we knew better, for he was here with us, right now, on this illustrious day.
We knew he was a kind and misunderstood guy, because of what I’m about to say.
He saved our squirrel, Funkundilly, from a hawk diving straight for her, inward bound.
With his slingshot, like streaked lightening, he forced the hawk to spiral to the ground.
And we all applauded that Funkundilly was now, once again, so very safe and sound.
Then he strode, spurs a jangling, to dish out his own type of justice, so very renowned.
With a steely glint in his eye, he ordered the hawk away, or meet his end, he did convey.
And you can say that frightened bully hawk, really high tailed it, as he ran away.
Everyone celebrated that night, with Armadilly, all the way to dawn’s embrace.
Before he left, Armadilly knew from then on, he’d always have a home in this place.
But his mind was set on a wandering, more of this world’s adventures, to unweave.
So with a HiHo! Jalopy! He took off, leaving in another cloud of dust and leaves.
But I heard him shout that he’d be back again, soon…
And we were sure, that’s just what he would do!
Inspired by Silly Billy the Kidster's--- Billy the Kid Blog
An epic poem by Carol Eastman
I remember those days when just a kid,
the old ten shilling note, and the odd quid.*
Teddy boys in their drain pipes, fur collars
smelling of nicotine, street wise scholars.
Conkers,* glass alleys* and comics as well,
bow and arrows, gat* to ring the school bell.
Electric tram, trolley bus and steam train
holidays in Blackpool, not yet in Spain.
Left over stew, dripping dispersed on bread,
a choice of marg or jam, not both was spread.
Roly-poly pud with custard, oh yes
school dinners, oh the ridicule the stress.
Journey in to space radio drama,
while bathing in a tin bath pure karma.
Medicals at school and nit nurses too
combing for the eggs, washing with shampoo.
No drugs, only cigs in small packs of five,
fifty fifty dance halls, old and new thrive.
Outside loo, oh them freezing winter nights
oil lamps, a candle to enhance one’s lights.
High street fish and chip shop charging nine pence,
potato crisps, tab* of salt to dispense.
Tanners,* hape’ny’s* and those threp’ny* bits,
meccano sets, clockwork trains came in kits.
Motorbikes, British pride on just two wheels,
Triumph, BSA, a nation reveals.
Alas long gone these balmy days of laze,
happy to have played a part in this phase!
*Quid:::: A one pound note (UK)
*Conkers:;;; Game played with the fruit of the horse chest nut tree.
*Glass Alleys::::: A type of Marble for the game of marbles.
*Gat::::: A catapult, or slingshot..
*Tab::: One brand of crisps in the UK, place a small blue pack of salt in each packet
*Tanners:::: A sixpenny coin
*Hape’ny’s::: A halfpenny coin
*Threp’ny bit::::: A Threepenny 12 sided coin, also called Thrupence depending where one resided in the North of England
.
© Harry J Horsman 2012
Once upon a time, Prunella
dwelt amid a magic wood
a dainty pixie most rare
whose temperament wasn't good
Last one of her purple line
in that dreary, dreaded glen
where beasts ever feared to tread
and mankind had never been
For purple pixies were known
to be devilishly mean
they'd terrified the kingdom
wherever they had been seen
So Prunella lived alone
and pouted, skulked and scowled
and dark nights when coyotes called
she piteously howled
Until one day she found them
some children lost in the wood
and scared the daylights from them
just because she knew she could
The children fawned and pleaded
to appease her rotten mood
this only made her madder
so she copped more attitude
But she'd miscalculated
when she made the last one mad
and felt the ammunition
from that slingshot-wielding cad
Wee bits of sweets kept flying
so like pebbles at her wings
until he ran out of those
then he chucked most anything
Around the wood she darted
avoiding him at some length
until at last she gave out
having used up all her strength
He plucked her from where she fell
and plopped her into a jar
then she began to bargain
as the village wasn't far
But Fred, both shrewd and clever
vowed to keep her locked up tight
'til they all were safely home
and ev'rything was made right...
So she charmed the fireflies out
to show them all safely home
bossily shouting orders
from within the jars glass dome
But once they were safely back
the boy quickly changed his mind
decided to keep Ol' Prune'
(as pixies were hard to find)
And 'though she was mad as hell
and her wings pulsed fiery red
she couldn't help but admire
this precocious, wily Fred
'Though he never let her loose
they became the best of friends
laughing with glee as they kept
his parents at their wits-ends
“What's with these wild ideas?”
They would grouse, and groan, and moan
unknowing those mischief-plans
were a pixie's- not his own!
Being who I am
It appears that I am ...
A thinker cogito ergo sum
A Feeler therefore I am more
A searcher carpe diem
A collector of oriental carpets
A bookworm devouring pages
A listener ready to hear
Father of five
Husband once more
Lover of one
Soulmate of the same
Jokester and jester
Serious clown
A crazy insane one
A depressed patient
An impatient sufferer
A healer retired
A doctor of mind
A lost one found again
Of harmony
In peace
Doubting
Full of faith
Introvert hermit
Extrovert human
I am all in one I am all in one I am all in one
Body Mind Soul Soul Mind Body Mind Body Soul
Don’t fit in a box
Jo-Jo out of control
Slingshot on target
An outcome detached
A promise fulfilled
Destiny in the making
I am addicted to life as it comes
Used to imbibe
Cleaned up my act
One step at a time
My life is no race
Its progress beats perfection
I know that I know nothing fully
Of that I am sure and thus safe
A philosopher of sort
Traveling gypsy on a road
To somewhere
To nowhere
With my attributes on a button I’m crowded
Never alone
Blissfully loved
Embraced for ever
A companion
A poet tree in motion
There are too many people walking around every single day
And if you ask them who they are most don't know what to say
You need to know who you are and how you came to be
And if you are a child of God you are royalty
We are all descendants of the most high God
children of the King
But if you don't have a relationship with Him
That concept doesn't mean a thing
But God says we're all royalty so we need to comprehend
That it's not our culture, it's not our race it's being creations of Him
Now the enemy is on the prowl working day and night
Trying to deter our youth from acknowledging God's light
Too much social media with Twitter, Facebook and Skype
So caught up in their Cel phones and every technological hype
But God looks at our hearts, He discerns what's inside
He's not concerned about hair color, tattoos or exposed backsides
God says we're royalty, He says we're His chosen offspring
And He called a young David to come forth and do a new thing
Now David was not a fighter he was a tender of sheep
But God can flip the script and with faith make you take the leap
God can use anyone when it comes to accomplishing His goals
He can call on the most unlikely person
and infuse him with power and control
God says we're royalty with power, majesty and might
He will bless and anoint us with grace, mercy and light
God says we're royalty and when He calls us to serve
Don't second guess His actions this appointment you deserve
To be a vessel that God will use, a means to an anointed end
To change the course of history to benefit all men
Now David was to battle but not King Saul's way
David had a god-given talent to be put on display
David was a projectile warrior a master of the slingshot
So he picked up 5 smooth stones and proceeded towards his lot
Only one stone was needed to take Golieth down
It hit that giant in the forehead
and immediately knocked him to the ground
David's actions changed the course of history
It also came to affect his entire family
Eventually David became a king
and because of his faith and behavior
His descendants became the line that produced
Jesus the Christ Our Savior
And like David I know who I am
And from Whom I came to be
And like David I'm a child of God
And God says I'm royalty
“ragazzino salta”
face to the wall
reading poetry
slingshot spitballs
little jack horner
sat in his quiet corner
once upon a time
ragazzino salta
your sorry muse, old ‘been,
your lawless circus,
never mine.
Candide Diderot. ‘25
Armadilly Billy the Sling Shot Kidster, was the Sheriff of our town.
When mangy rustlers went into action, he was wont to hunt them down.
‘The Buzzard’ and his surly gang of rustlers of epically, bad renown…
Had picked Texas and other states clean, and were on the move, NOW!
A terrible dust storm, dumped them smack dab, into our piece of territory.
The evil buzzard leader sat, now contemplating, upon the hangman’s tree.
His gang was ready to rustle, as he sat scoping out, many a nefarious deed.
Their base camp was an Old Box canyon, not far, and full of tumbleweeds.
Now, snail rustling’s a crime, so word got out, of where they’d be found.
As they’d gleaned, every single snail, grazing in all the creeks, all around.
The outlaws were expecting soon, to get away quite clean, with them all.
But the sheriff of our town, Billy was steamed, and he was standing tall.
Billy went on the move, and he meant business, if you know, what I mean.
Yep! He’s tough! He’s mean! He’s focused! His eyes were hard and lean!
While ‘The Buzzard’s’ head was bald, eyes cruel, his stance was cold as ice.
In the box canyon they’d be snail kabobs, by sundown, if Billy didn’t strike.
The snails were easy to follow, just had to follow their trail of yucky slime.
With Billy’s trusty stead Jalopy, they were at the boxed canyon by noontime.
Now, No One, and I mean NO ONE, steals, while Billy’s Sheriff in any town.
That no good, low down, Buzzard better watch out, for he’d now been found.
When Billy arrived they were loading snails into a boxcar to ship for Escargot.
The French black market in Quebec would offer a price, beyond compare so…
To bring them buzzards down, Billy’s slingshot clipped each wing and tail.
Without their feathers they couldn’t fly so they couldn’t remotely prevail.
But not without looking each one in the eye, for he was the good guy, after all.
There was neigh a feather left, as they were buzzard bait, way before nightfall.
But who can tell on a buzzard, for they don’t have much to start with, anyway.
Now they were the one’s loaded on a train set to Yuma, to prison all the way.
The moral to my story is that: Crime never EVER pays. Besides…
Snail rustling is just plain dumb! They’re so slow, that it's a pain!
To the music: The Good The Bad and the Ugly.
An inspiration surges through your brain.
If only you can organize, maintain
Your poignant words, a slingshot to release,
With measured aim, this writer's block defeat.
You tally once, then twice and start again
With phrasing even you don't understand.
You feel your venture crash against a wall
And watch your efforts shatter, as they fall.
Another golden moment from your past,
On stanza two, You read your lines, aghast.
You have no weapon strong enough to wield,
The composition slows, then limps and yields.
The message, once so clear, has left your mind.
The task you started, now you leave behind.
Your head, still full of thoughts, but none engage.
You grant a rest to your exhausted page.
Gene Bourne.
06-12-14
.
DEAR SANTA, LET ME EXPLAIN
Dear Santa Claus, way up in the North Pole
Please, at least give me a chance to explain!
How was I supposed to know Dad’s remote control
Would get crushed when run over by a toy train?
I am not as naughty a boy as you might think,
I’m not a bad kid, I am not as bad as all that,
Who knew paint should not be poured down the sink?
Or that you should never try to shave the cat.
No matter what stories you might have heard,
I can be pretty darn good when I give it a try.
The cat will never again be stuffed in the cage with the bird,
Or slingshot to see if he can be taught how to fly.
I eat all of mom’s cooking, no matter how bad
I do my best to clean up my plate.
Only once did I hide the car keys in the freezer on Dad
The line I walk is narrow and straight.
I am sorry about the window, it was an accident
I was just playing ball with my friends.
I will pay for the glass, one hundred percent
And do whatever I can to make amends.
I am sure that Grandma has forgotten about those plates
She has forgotten about almost every other thing.
And I never bring her frogs or the snakes she hates
I have not muddied her carpets since Spring.
And about my kid sister, her hair will grow back,
Dad said she looked cuter than cute.
I think the rug in my room looks better in black
And Grandpa already replaced his gray suit.
So give me a break, Santa, I’m trying real hard,
It’s not easy keeping grownups happy, you see.
Maybe pirates really did bury treasure in our yard,
If I had found it, they would be happy, I guarantee.
So maybe sometimes I get in trouble when I get into a fight
Maybe sometimes I have to clap erasers after school,
I’m just full of energy, holding me down is not right
So what if I don’t follow their stupid rules
That rat Benny B., he had it coming, St. Nick,
He has been giving me guff for a week
He is a bully and a punk and he just makes me sick
With his nonstop tormentor’s mean streak.
You are Santa, you know the truth, I am really OK
I’m not a bad kid all of the time,
Just please bring me Christmas, I’ll do whatever you say,
I will even stop writing in rhyme.
Just one more thing Santa, and I hope you don’t mind
I really want to spread holiday cheer,
So if your list falls a little bit behind,
Please cut me a little slack for next year.
Viewing life through a lens,
My mind shot like a bullet going 100
miles a minute,
Then the journey begins,
I see the beauty in life,
Things I would miss if God would
end it,
Things the naked eye may never
understand,
The blissful moments in life,
I see the kindness in a lion,
The warm heart of a butterfly,
Shattered dreams that never flew to
the sky,
Like a slingshot trying to shoot a
razor blade,
Piercing the rubber band,
Like a cracked glass shattering in my
hand,
I see the maze of life,
Ways to heal the world,
I see the truth of love,
The reason to appreciate every girl,
The things to make a better world
begin,
Is hidden on the Earth as it spins,
Hidden by a higher class hoping we
will never know,
But I see the truth,
Viewing life through a lens,
By:Anthony Scandrick II
There's a moose a loose with a duck on his back!
If you see them stop dead in your tracks.
Do not engage, for they will fight back.
The moose made a slingshot out of his rack.
If you are naive and turn your back;
Moose will sling duck hard and fast.
Popping your butt with a very loud crack.
Leaving you with a duck stuck in your quack.
"Slingshot"
two morning stars
watch the world
of man collide
two lions roar
one paints the sky
with tears
the other
thinks it reigns
winning wars
immersed in blood
winning souls, covenant
two morning stars
one bright
the other
feels no shame
both roar
with open jaw
there is life to gain
hearing
man’s fall
answering bad dreams
waiting for
mercy to call
in kaleidoscope sky
shot apart
and butchered
storms begin
clashing
in the cloudy eyes
of dead lives and broken hearts
Aslan watches
morning star
feeding death its lies
colours in the coat
of small dreamers
become large life
borne to kill Nephilim
with faith and
slingshots
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"Waiting for the Rain"/ Mark Lanegan, Unkle
https://youtu.be/Zl3Y5-Qrbk8
“There's a wraith-like shadow appearing
And though my eyes are veiled
I'm looking for the rain to fall”
“Army's down to defeat
All the dogs in the street
are seeking shelter before a storm
I'm looking for the rain to fall”
Ezekiel 32:26-28
Ezekiel 38
Ezekiel 39
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goliath
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nephilim
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coat_of_many_colors
https://andrewpgsweeny.medium.com/joseph-and-the-coat-of-many-colours-98388f98fdee
Morning Star/Lion
https://www.gotquestions.org/morning-star.html
LYRICS/ “Looking for the Rain “, Mark Lanegan/Unkle
https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/unkle/lookingfortherain.html
Written March 29, 2013
mother. father. always you wrestle inside me
When I was 8 years old
I got a model train set for Christmas
Not a slingshot or BB gun
Instead of going around in circles
I moved it right off the tracks
How it crashed and burned
When I was 12 years old
My father told me "son,
Don't you lose my best rod and reel
Or bend the strings that I strung"
So I jumped in the ocean
Setting these wheels in motion
This could be such a simple song
But how we were wrong
When I hit the big 2-0
I found a delicate flower
In the old junkyard field
I thought I'd give it to momma
But when I brought home that flower
The petals fell off in the shower
Adam's tale ended tragic
And so does this song
When I breathed in the chemicals
And felt so alone
Such a precious regret that they own
That I never had friends in my own home
Life is a horror story
Without a plot twist
My life was a mystery
Where everyone did it
Now were stuck on the precipice
Without a third wish
This could be such a simple song
But how we were wrong
Titan Goliath challenged young David to a floggin'
But David with his slingshot beaned him on the noggin!
Dave viewed the carcass and was heard to say, "Nothin' to it!"
His envious brethren said, "Yeah! 'Twas just a lucky hit!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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