Best Smokey Poems
In the dim-lit alley of the soul's bazaar,
Were jazz and jive spill from ajar,
We tap our feet, snap fingers, under stars,
And speak in verses, raw and without pause.
The city breathes, a living, pulsing beat,
Its heart a drum, its voice a saxophone,
We weave through streets, our words a rhythmic feat,
In its sync with life yet distinctly our own.
We are scribes of midnight's whispered tales,
Our ink, the dreams that dance in smokey air,
Each line is a track on which our spirit sails,
A journey deep, beyond the skin, we dare.
So let us write, with passion as our guide,
Some beat poems, where truths cannot slide.
Then we'll take a carpet ride,
Sail across space standing side by side.
My father was a preacher
stood for everything good,
took my mother’s virginity
I was born to the sisterhood.
They left me on a stairway
a ghostly place to be,
down some old back alley
near to a South Auckland quay.
Found I was in the morning
by someone going to work,
he decided to keep me
this understanding old Turk.
Owner of a coffee house
down town in Branston square,
grew up I guess lucky
by someone born to care.
He gave to me his name
that stands above the door,
a photo of me in a frame
in a basket full of straw.
So here I am heavenly blessed
all down to one lucid day,
with a name ne’er to rest
Smokey Joe’s Cafe!
© Harry J Horsman 2012
Once when I was just a kid,
My sister eight years older,
My sister's boyfriend came to call,
While we were playing soldier.
Stationed in the jungle we,
Cut off from our troop,
Surrounded by the enemy,
We must escape, regroup.
To do this we must make a stand,
Take out that one lone guard.
A local girl distracted him,
So we could hit him, hard.
My sister led him to the porch,
To kiss her friend goodnight.
Not suspecting they were watched,
Or what we planned that night.
They stood before the porch steps,
In young love's sweet embrace.
I'm sure the neighbor's heard his scream.
You should have seen his face.
The timing perfect as we leaped,
I yelled to him, ATTACK!!
And Smokey did as he was told,
He ran straight up his back.
The young boy screamed, jumped off the porch,
And made tracks for his car.
My sister cried to Mama,
"He'll probably have a scar!"
The young boy swore that he was bit.
Felt teeth in his behind.
I grinned and said, "But not the cat.
The teeth he felt were mine."
Mama laughed so hard at that,
That we did not get punished.
My sister went into her room,
Her reputation tarnished.
She felt no boy would date her now,
She had a rabid sister,
Who hung out with a feral cat,
No one could resist her.
So cute and sweet, she had it all,
You'd think she had it made;
But with me no one would call,
She'd die as an old maid.
A Haiku Trilogy
We found you dear cat.
Smokey, dead you,beauty you!
Our soul tears splash, splash.
~
Gone to Rainbow Bridge!
Playing with butterflies galore,
Milk in rainbow bowls!
~
No more fur to kiss.
Balls you chased such,feline grace!
Angel, ours,at Rainbow gates!
January 3, 2020
5:30am PST
Life with Smokey was never dull.
He was fun and adventure,
It never lulled.
So quiet and regal he seemed to be,
So dignified,
That you couldn't see,
The rascal there in the heart of that cat.
He seemed so gentle,
Who'd have guessed that,
He was king of the thieves with fresh seafood around;
A varlet, a knave,
His vices abound.
He climbed in the fridge for the fresh crab meat there;
And when one fell out,
It gave him a scare,
For it still was alive and it scurried away,
With Smokey behind it,
"Oh good! Now we'll play."
"I'll swat it about until it just dies."
But the crab grabbed his paw,
And we ran to his cries.
Dad grabbed up the crab and put it right back.
Then gave him a fish,
He'd remembered to pack,
So Smokey could have his treat as before.
Not caught this time,
But bought at the store.
Smokey clouds stretch across the sun
A purple cast appears
An apricot color decorates
Silhouetted trees sear
A light show on the horizon
The sun seemed to reverse
Dark purple clouds wrap around
The roosters' song terse
Fog that filled the vale eight feet deep
Lifted without a sound
On the creek a honking bird
Sang a tune just one round
Only a tiny golden peek
From the now rising sun
Smokey gray and deep purple clouds
Dominate guess the sun's done
Out on the porch for a short while this morning..Sara
She’s part black panther
Who camouflages at night
With glowing green eyes
I want to find a Boo-Boo
for my Smokey Bear
So now that you’re aware
of this just stop your
staring at me
Please hear my plea
Next time you
talk to Yogi
ask him ‘bout a
Boo-Boo Bear for
Smokey
The forest fires burn
burn, burn, burn, burn
Keep tryin’ to contain them
but those whack-a-moles
yearn to be free
Please listen to me
Next time you
talk to Yogi
ask him ‘bout a
Boo-Boo Bear for
Smokey
Smokey needs a
Boo-Boo Bear so
when he retires
he’ll take over his work
preventing forest fires
Can’t you see?
Please hear my plea
Next time you
talk to Yogi
ask him ‘bout a
Boo-Boo Bear for
Smokey
Smokey was a funny cat,
Filled with fun and love;
Adventurous as all cats are,
And Master of the Hunt.
He stalked the house in search of that,
Which posed some kind of threat.
A bug, a mouse, a ball of yarn,
No pest escaped the net,
That he had formed around our home.
He took responsibility,
To protect us fro it all,
Because we were his family.
From babyhood he was my kin.
He always slept with me.
We played for hours in the yard,
Beneath the old Oak tree.
We climbed my swing set, climbed the tree,
Played in my sand box too.
Imagine my surprise to find,
He used it for a loo.
Kitty cat and little girl,
Fought jungle wars, climbed trees;
And then we sailed the seven seas,
Buccaneers were we.
We'd hide behind the sofa,
The curtains or in the hall,
And wait in ambush for our prey.
We really had a ball.
My sister's boyfriend happened by,
One night as we were hiding.
I yelled "Chaarge!" and Smokey leaped.
The boy knocked off the siding,
On the bookcase in the hall,
As Smokey climbed his leg,
And we were sent to bed that night,
T'hout supper though I begged.
Incarcerated pirates we,
The game continued on.
We'd wait until they were asleep,
Then eat till it was gone.
Then we'd escape into the night,
With valuables they cherished.
We'd be away by early light,
Leaving the guard embarrassed.
The Brooklyn Cyclones
now represent the borough
of Brooklyn
where I spent my
formative years
Memeories of the long - departed
Dogers
Linger over Keyspan park
like clouds
Duke Snyder, Jackie Robinson,
Sandy Koufax, Carl Furillo and
the rest
are engraved in the borough's heart
The Brooklyn Cyclones
now represent the borough of Brooklyn
I came into this world
during the legendary 1955 World Series
When the Dogers finally triumphed
Let's hope the Cyclones can
follow in theit footsteps
Bringing joy to
Brooklyn aka Kings County
Once when I was just a kid my mom thought t'would be nice,
If I'd invite some friends to play and we could swing outside.
I had a swing set in the yard where I would play for hours.
My daddy built it just for me away from Mommy's flowers.
It stood beneath a large Oak tree and even had a sand box.
We played and swung and had a ball, got sand in clothes and socks.
Our neighbors had a big red dog, a loyal, patient friend.
Prince often came to play with us, he wagged his tail and grinned.
Another dog came on the scene and Prince was not amused.
They postured and they sniffed each other, a dog fight soon ensued.
We screamed and cried and climbed the set as Prince and dog fought on.
Smokey heard our frantic cries and raced onto the lawn.
Prince was huge with big white teeth and muscles big and stocky;
But Smokey feared him not and leaped and rode him like a jockey.
Smokey sank his claws in deep with teeth he grabbed his neck.
The big dog took off down the street with Smokey firmly set,
Upon his back, he rode him well, they soon were out of sight.
We worried that he might get hurt in yet another fight;
But he came strolling home real soon the hero of the day.
"Don't worry kids', he seemed to say, 'he won't be back today."
Smokey was a funny cat.
You could see him think.
His place of choice to do this,
Was table or kitchen sink.
He'd loll about for hours,
In seemingly deep thought,
Musing o'er life's mysteries,
Or the mouse he never caught.
He looked so wise just sitting there,
Mysterious and ancient,
Never bothering anyone,
Complacent and so patient.
The only thing he didn't like,
Was being combed and groomed.
If you picked up his comb and brush,
He'd quickly leave the room.
I swear sometimes he read our minds,
Knew what we were about.
He understood our every word,
Of that there was no doubt.
He was my friend from babyhood.
We were babes together.
He taught me climbing, stealth and patience.
Our bond could not be severed.
He taught me to look nonchalant,
And even innocent,
If by chance I should get caught,
Whene'er house rules were bent.
Whenever Mom and Dad were cross,
He taught me how to blend,
Into the background or become,
So cute they had to grin.
My memories of him are fond.
I thought he'd live forever.
He taught me fun and love and loyalty.
He won't die, not ever.
Through all his years he was such fun,
Companion, friend and more;
Adventure was his middle name,
And I was never bored.
As long as Smokey was around,
He'd brighten up my day.
He'd snuggle, cuddle, kiss and swat,
And say,"Come on, let's play."
I had some turtles in a bowl,
As cute as they could be.
They disappeared while I was out,
Found under the settee.
I had my suspicions,
About how they got there;
So I watched my little buddy,
But he never moved a hair.
Then one day he strolled by me,
With something in his mouth.
I followed him to the living room.
He crawled beneath the couch.
He placed a turtle on the floor,
And gently lay beside it.
Just watching it so patiently,
Not hurting it a bit.
Slowly it stuck out it's head,
Then it began to move.
Curiously he watched it go,
Thought Smokey, "He's got groove."
"I like this tiny little guy.
I wonder what it is."
I reached in and picked it up,
"Busted, here's the miz."
"These guys will die without their bowl.
Smokey don't do that."
But I still love you best you know.
You are the best of cats."
SMOKEY AND THE GOLDEN RETRIEVER
Once when I was just a kid,
My mom thought 'twould be nice,
If I'd invite some friends to play,
And we could swing outside.
I had a swing set in the yard,
Where I would play for hours.
My daddy built it just for me,
Away from Mommy's flowers.
It stood beneath a large Oak tree,
And even had a sand box.
We played and swung and had a ball,
Got sand in clothes and socks.
Our neighbors had a big red dog,
A loyal, patient friend,
Prince often came to play with us,
He wagged his tale and grinned.
Another dog came on the scene,
And Prince was not amused,
They postured and they sniffed each other,
A dog fight soon ensued.
We screamed and cried and climbed the set,
As Prince and dog fought on,
Smokey heard our frantic cries,
And raced across the lawn.
Prince was huge with big white teeth,
And muscles big and stocky,
But Smokey feared him not and leaped,
And rode him like a jockey.
Smokey sank his claws in deep,
With teeth he grabbed his neck,
The big dog took off down the street,
With Smokey firmly set,
Upon his back, he rode him well,
They soon were out of sight,
We worried that he might get hurt,
In yet another fight;
But he came strolling home real soon,
The hero of the day.
"Don't worry kids', he seemed to say,
He won't be back today."
Judy Ball
For Fraqncine Roberts Pick A Pet Contest - July4,2011
HOW MUCH FISH CAN SMOKEY EAT
All cats like fish as we all know,
But Smokey just loved it,
It made quite a show.
My dad went fishing most every week,
And Smokey would wait,
By the door for his treat.
Dad always saved Smokey a nice big fish,
But Smokey kept begging,
To refill his dish.
One day Dad asked him,"How much can you eat?"
And gave him another,
Just for a treat.
Soon it was gone and the cat was back,
Begging and pleading,
For the fish in Dad's sack.
Time and again Dad gave him another,
And finally asked Mom,
"Has he got a brother?"
"Am I feeding two cats? Where does he put it?
I can't give him more,
He'll make himself sick!"
So Daddy refused after five or six fish,
And Smokey decided,
To fill his own dish.
While Dad was busy, quick as a flash,
He snatched up a filet,
And made a mad dash;
But Daddy was quick as the cat it would seem,
And grabbed back the fish,
As the cat made a scream.
Round and around each tugged at his end,
Till at last that poor fish,
In the middle was rend.
The cat ran away with a piece in his mouth,
To hide with his fish,
Somewhere in the house.
Dad had great fun retelling this tale,
Of the great tug of war,
With the cat and fish tail.
Judy Ball