Best Slingshots Poems
Death whispered my name today,
a soft seductive coo in my ear.
Proceeding onward to invade my very soul;
And over my body,
I felt the creeping cold take hold.
I closed my eyes to join the dance,
the romance of the dead;
Leading me from what I used to be,
into where I'll spend eternity,
where waltzes will never end for me.
So Free.
The shout of loved ones slingshots me back.
Lying in a cold sweat,
awake and screaming,
perhaps I was just dreaming.
Perhaps if it were more than a whisper,
I would have answered deaths call,
after all.
Categories:
slingshots, death, me,
Form:
Free verse
A Dragon Squirrel Brigade
Dragon got home from the Army, wanting to be totally, in control.
He wanted to be a Drill Sergeant, to teach the recruits, to be bold.
He gave them all a blankie, and a binkie they could keep, I am told.
They’d throw a rock, and shoot in a blink, like the knight’s of old.
He’d practice the squirrels, now, waging a fight, in an old Hawk War.
A sling shot army, his name to fame, who could dare ask for more?
An army waiting, as they fly at our birds, yep, here’d come the corps.
The gumball tree is ready, yes, ammunition does abound, in galore!
Yep, they’re better than those darn possums, I say, sleeping in the day.
They’d Shoot, hanging upside down, slingshots and gumballs, into play.
Dragon marched them up and down, the trunk, and limbs, in the array.
They’d find the perfect spots, to shoot from, at their whim, in the foray.
Seems, they also learned to jump, into an amazing flying squirrel act.
The flying squirrel missed his target, got caught, in a boy’s hair, for a fact!
A kid then threw rocks at the troops, as the hawks were forgot, you think!
Unfortunately, they are squirrels, and some times, do some squirrelly things.
They closed the town down, with a hornet’s nest in every Road. That stings!
Nobody dared go down the streets, a curfew had been struck, in a blink.
Yep, at that moment, the Hawk decided to stealthfully, swoop in for a bird.
A gutter frog jumped on the hawk’s back, forcing him, to the ground, I heard.
At that, our first hero was made, as gutter frogs joined the squirrel brigade.
As the squirrel was removed from the boys’ hair, the barbershop became…
A place for squirrel nesting supplies, so the curfew was lifted, fast as it came.
A gutter frog offering this advice, became the new General, in this war game.
Squirrels, were tired of marching, and being yelled at by Dragon, that night.
They replaced him with the gutter frog, with less smoke and fire. Alright!
But Dragon’s work was done that day, as the troops were ready to fight.
Finally he was a Hero, for he had turned the tide… He was so very proud.
The moral to my story is:
The troops got a Drill Sergeant, but didn’t need him any more.
A General is enough to carry on, for a Generals’ planning is better…
Than a young Dragon’s power and fire… as, yes, Dragon went off to play.
Written by Carol Eastman 2-8-2015
Categories:
slingshots, fantasy, fun, funny, humor,
Form:
Light Verse
On one summer night’s boldest game
We hunted and attacked vicious pirates,
Riding on bubble rafts of spokes and rubber
Our young skin caressed by the velvet air;
This mission devoted for an honored Celtic God.
Yielding our mighty wooden swords,
We protected the river to save the children
From all the evil and greedy villains…
While enchanted minds conjured fierce tactics.
Across a tousled upland, then down again
Through muddy creeks and grass alike,
Slingshots whacked the likes of Captain Hook
Pausing only for a drink near the meadows.
As the four gang mates of the Lost Boys
'The Pan was with us', and Tiger Lily too ;
Embarking yet on another episode
Till my friends and I dared a shipwreck trap .
While moonlight peeped through a blue of cloud,
Suddenly, a yell halted our weary feet…
Mother's voice chimed, “Guys, time for dinner!”
Between reality and play… we still wandered!
Contest: Jesse Day's Tell A Tall Tale
7/5/2016
Categories:
slingshots, adventure, games, imagination,
Form:
Narrative
"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
Categories:
slingshots, dark, i am, light,
Form:
Free verse
I was a prophet, wrapped in my mothers arms
brightest eyes that saw a darkened world
my brother was the halo figure, a golden arm for slingshots
a temper to smash his own fist against a brick wall
we wept in time with the funeral march
as our mother was buried in front of our eyes
misgivings and mass at midnight
praying to an empty alter
to save our grandfather, to spare him one more night
lying in bed a week later
I awoke to his voice telling me our prayers had done no good
It's easier to blame the empty bottles for my brothers death
easier to blame the teen years than the
push and pull of growing up an orphan
and on nights like this, more than a decade later
I can still recall that conversation when he told me
when he closed his eyes and spoke those words, barely above a whisper
that he wouldn't be around much longer
I was thirteen and still bright eyed
he was twenty three and weathered
I was a prophet, but even a blind man could see
the pain that was ingrained in his faintest smiles
the avalanche of emotions still hit and bury me deep
some nights i pray to let me reach safety
others I take solace in knowing that
the avalanche is holding me tight as I sleep
Categories:
slingshots, absence, age, brother, childhood,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Let me tell you a story about a dog named Sam
Sam was a basset hound of most dubious origins
He had a huge ugly wart on his back, not so glam,
A neighborhood dog, at supper he went about foragin’.
Everyone loved Sam with his happy-go-lucky demeanor
He always went about his business carefree and gay
We always thought no other dog around was keener,
Daily with all of us neighborhood kids Sam would play.
One day Semp and I were shooting with our slingshots
Like country boys then did frequently for fun,
But that day ended up with our stomachs in knots
So sorry that old Sam did not hear us, get up, and run.
We were shooting at crows that were sitting on a fence
Not realizing Sam was lying underneath in the shade,
And from that point, in my story, everything got tense
A stray rock hit Sam while under the fencerow he laid.
We heard Sam yelp, watched him draw his last breath,
Semp and I tried our best to revive him that afternoon
But the damage was done, and we experienced death
We buried Sam under the nettles in an old pine grove
Our tears flowed freely as we read his canine eulogy,
Everyone for miles around, well, Sam was known to love
Both Semp and I could never offer a suitable apology.
Afterwards, we gave up slingshots, any shooting event,
It was never much fun to do from that sad day forward
And this is, truthfully, how the tragic story of Sam went.
[PET/PETS]
FIRST PLACE WINNER
written April 16, 2022
for "Poetry Form - N - Narrative" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Constance La France
Categories:
slingshots, animal, death, death of
Form:
Narrative
--------------------------------------------------------
The Cinematic Film Treatment as poetic element
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Snickering Bastards
Two chattering ravens narrate a tale of blind revolution and seedy redemption, as we follow a Raisinseed V9.003, the latest hermaphrodite sex worker cyborg prototype grown by the Non Sequitur Corp from lawn cuttings, in her or his meandering narrative from birth to illumination, at the beginning of which we first see Raisinseed's body parts being vapor gun printed from lab rat DNA by Prof. "Bam Bam" Bernie Roundhole, who has secretly grown Raisinseed alongside an evil twin kidnapped with the Professor's connivance by gypsy low riders, deviously paid by the Bureau of Land Management, to detect clandestine ectoplasm at the FEMA Summer Camp Ouija Board séances held in a recently constructed chain link and razor wire facility in a devious scheme to harness the power of human gullibility, where the twins' only link to sanity and dietary sustenance was the giant artificial cow udder they both suckled with the help of a mysterious one eyed Hungarian ex-Tatar payroll robbing Romany Brigade railroad bandit turned private investigator (whence or hence the eye logo on his business card that read "DEEP, DEEPER, DEEPEST!"), the Sure Bet brand dowsing rod inventor, and his partner, the equally mysterious "Tubby" Tepys, who sells the secret Twin (named X for the purposes of this narrative) to the hunch backed majordomo of Castle Bathory, and who, over the span of two generations of political mud wrestling, reveals the key to the reuniting of the twins utilizing the tracking capabilities of a "Mark of the Beast" model branding iron and Homeland Security RFID laser detector which slingshots via the Einsteinian space time reversal dilemma in a mathematical simulation that employs the separated twins for an inter-departmental National Plasmatic Administration foundation grant fund raising public service announcement about the potential for life "out there", and they are reunited by men who shrink heads with the help of tungsten filament light bulbs.
(to be continued)
From "Theater of Utter Charm"
Available on Amazon
Categories:
slingshots, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
Evil is incremental
One bullet after another
And after another
And after another
Until there’s a blister
On my trigger finger
Where there used to be a wet print
Of a little kiss
Transplanted to my little girl’s cheek
Before I left for work
This morning,
She’s sound asleep in bed
With the spring birds singing
Through her window.
All day
I do
The best I can
To shoot low,
To spare the gut,
To leave the heart within its chest,
I merely shred knee caps and groins
With shrapnel
From the cannon in my hand,
To buckle those distant shapes
Of brown people,
To see them writhe in the dirt
On their asses,
Legs and arms pumping into the air
Like half-squished spiders
On top of a table,
Hauled away in spoonfulls of wheelbarrows
My God
My God
Please stop
This prophecy
Of slingshots
And firebombing kites.
I know most of my bullets
Have slipped into the gaseous abyss
With their own orders
And less discipline
Into a handshake of fate
Until I reckon
With the end of time
I am doing this
Me
All day
At work
Shooting
Across a field
Over a fence erected by men
Because this is heaven, and that is hell
And they all want in,
Millions of them,
Wanting to kill me
And my little girl
Asleep in her bed.
I’ve never heard or seen
Of anything
More irrelevant
Than having a choice.
Did I say that, or did they?
We all follow our orders.
Categories:
slingshots, angst, conflict, death, horror,
Form:
Free verse
Belle, so starry; a growing mystery but you always meant love to me
a butterfly, please remain but I'll let you fly away when you're ready
It's suddenly slipped my mind what I'm supposed to say
this life is a roller coaster, an unpredictable disaster
but that's irrelevant to me
I'm more concerned with how much you mean to me
My words are absent sense
Our sun has set; will it ever rise again
my head is raised high with the hopes I've created
but it appears to just be the same as the lion upon its prey
Ended...ended...does it really have to be this way
the rain has yet to befall this day
but still a stinging, worried tear slingshots through my mind
I may feel the swift outcome of emptiness of again
tasteless, better, dull, ageless, without warmth
may you desire to disappear
Selfish, I realize how deep my thoughts persist
but two years time has intertwined my path with you
the reason I dare not question or you will vanish from me
I am aware of the flaws in my design
and I've come to terms with that I'm useless
a useless anchor in your path, but you're an anchor in mine
How long will this hold, I'm begging longer than it's meant to
I've savored every moment, making it a permanent memory
a butterfly eclipsing a rose petal, simply breathtaking
and breathtaking has it been to spend every moment with you
and remaining in my mind are the words of goodbye
in case I need them
but I refuse to say them
just let me hold your hand one more time
and feel your warmth against my stilled beating heart
Categories:
slingshots, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
Playing hopscotch upon the stars
Planets stare in awe at the child
Capturing the universe in a jar
Lassoing moonbeams, future rays of hope
To illuminate all dark and dreary nights
So his creation finds a way to cope
With Pluto in his slingshots aim
He slams it into Mars
Mixes dust in cosmic rain
Atoms collide from a sonic blast
The embryo shivers into a life
That will be destined to forever last
A spiralling meteor is defleted
A crater forms deep and wide
And a vast sea is ressurected
He strips Orion of his belt
And bands it round the atmosphere
Until gravity is felt
Breath of life
A second chance
Will they get it right this time?
Categories:
slingshots, beautiful, universe,
Form:
Terzanelle
The brotherhood of man
When he came into the hall, his brother came down
the stairs, he had forgotten to buy milk
Outside, guns blasted his brother fragmented to
a hail of noise and blood on splattered asphalt.
The soldiers, in a killing mood, shot into the hall
he ran up to the third-floor flat where his sons sat
told them to flee to the roof of opposite buildings
They refused and had slingshots to defend themselves
he didn’t try to persuade the boys, undid a window
and jumped on the next roof as bullets of ill will
hissed past like angry wasps on an August afternoon.
The building he escaped to had once been a clinic
for those who hated their faces and wanted a change
This war had descended into brutal self-delusion
where the news shouted slogans of hatred, beating
People to mass hysteria, blindly killing anyone that
resembled the foe, not seeing the enemy was them
committing fratricide.
When the blood lust of ammo suppliers was sated
a nervous calm until a flash of light lit up the sky
there was no one left to tell why the war had started.
Categories:
slingshots, abuse, anger, angst, brother,
Form:
Free verse
why yellow flowers
Are so afraid of the wind...?
And the ripe fruits
so afraid of slingshots... ?
why flowers don't
fear nudity so much and
why are they handsome
when naked ?
where is your azimuth,
here, there or the sky...?
why is the sun stays this
so solo... ?
The moon is a chaperone,
or is it without company...!?
Does short rain
fear storm...?
There is something most dangerous
than no flight plane?
why loneliness doesn't
search company for
not being so alone...?
why do dreams reach
its final when we wake up...?
Categories:
slingshots, allegory, allusion, appreciation, creation,
Form:
Free verse
I had fun brushing the sky, with its impeccable blue,
then a sweep here and there of cloud’s silvery lining.
A few waffled spots amplified the intensity of hue.
Screws lightly driven at the base, release grassy knots.
A verdant green tenderly arcs toward the florid intimacy.
The blades of Spring, frothing, wild, free, like slingshots.
A xanthous sun surmised in the center-peak, brightening
the early american-orange blend that postulates a fence.
All before the placement of strong, sturdy, heightening.
Panels contain state-of-the-art gray-green stems and leaves.
Within the folds of the sun, magenta-pink petals. On left,
yellow and purple blossoms. On right, red and white cleaves.
Multi-hues spell out Love Blooms. Letters hidden in the grass.
It is Spring, a time to revive. It is April - my heart grieves, but
it is also alive with forty-four companion years for a lad & lass.
Categories:
slingshots, art,
Form:
Ekphrasis
The inmates
The young prisoners with slingshots
fight an army that shoots back with sharp bullets
The young keep on fighting
An enemy the knows no mercy, control the water
supply and electricity.
How many young men and women must die?
Is the enemy willing to commit mass murder?
to eradicate a race of people?
The world looks but says little and some elderly
ask: why can`t the young prisoners behave.
Categories:
slingshots, anger, assonance, betrayal,
Form:
Blank verse
Roll up to the amusement arcade.
Behold all the video games you can play -
Dodgem car driving games, smash-'em-up derbies.
Claw-crane lunge-and-snag-a-toy games,
Pop-a-shot in basketball hoops,
Pac-Man, Mario, Galaga, Street Fighter.
Way-back in the far shadowy back corner is the
Old ‘Pinball-For-Poesy’ Machine,
with lights blazing like a disco-machine.
“5 Stanzas Fires for a Buck,” reads the sign.
Come on, Come on, give it a go,
you might spark a thought or two!
So I pay my coin!
Down drops the first shiny metal shot.
I pull back the plunger thing, and let it fly!
Off it goes, ricochets off the bumpers.
Careens off the slingshots and rings.
Blasting up and down ramps, snakes and ladders.
Bells ring, lights flash, up goes the score!
Then—look out!
Just when the ball is about to go down the rabbit hole,
I flip the paddle at the bottom, timed with every twitch of nerve,
up goes the ball into the next phrase.
Up it soars, triggering flashes of memory and firecracker thoughts,
thumps, bumps and clangor in my brain.
The bells and whistles ring -
It’s a riot of sparks and sound.
Sadly then, it ends, when my time and luck runs out.
After the fifth ball drops down the abyss,
I’m out!
The poet is thrilled that someone paid to play the game.
Grateful that the reader shared their pinball plunge,
with all its bumps, thrills, bells and whistles.
Following the orbit of words and sparks,
written with the intention of meaning,
hidden between the lines, in the magician’s puzzle of suggestion.
The poet is happy for the reader to
see what they see, hear what they hear,
feel every pulse and flash inside themselves.
Without the poet casting a spell, or implying meaning,
in the telling.
Categories:
slingshots, poems, poetry, poets,
Form:
Free verse