Best Souse Poems
Cook white rice with ochroe in
Coconut milk-----stew
Pigs-feet and pigs- tail seasoned
and spiced ------ain't that nice
Yummy Yummy -----now
set the table
Eat
Hot.
Dig in man
A caribbean feast
and juice of lemons
Cucumber, hot peppers, salt
pour into jar------- add
Boil pigs-feet, in iron pot
Our first lady Michelle from the white house.
Encourages healthy eating not souse.
Limbaugh cries idiot.
In the newspaper writ.
She was eating hamburgers with her spouse!
In Vale he said they were sking on snow.
Then eating ribs, he said on his show.
But how can he talk?
With his bulk hard to walk!
Having chest pains to the hospital did go!
"Food Nanny" Obama is saying,
Having barbeque won't be paying.
Have pie on Thanksgiving Day,
Said Michelle critics say,
Moderation?? To the dogs we're straying!
The town drunk felt a dire need to wee-wee!
In the park he found a sycamore tree.
As the cops led him away,
The old souse was heard to say,
"Where e'er you be, let yer water flow free!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
There’s a mouse in my house,
a greedy little souse
He’s clever for I never
eyewitness his endeavors,
But the cat sentinel sat,
and I know the little rat
is there.
There are holes in my rolls
and mouse turds in my bowls.
Though a lover, out of cover,
of all fauna I discover
This critter makes me twitter
at his presence as a sitter
in my kitchen,
So I’m bitchin’; but the mouse,
tail a-twitchin’,
scurries on.
Randolph
Tried golf
Paid fees
Bought tees
Teed off
Pals scoff
Drive ****
In rough
Balls lost
They cost!
Oh crap
Sand trap!
Putts bad
Gets mad!
More flubs
Breaks clubs!
So far
No par
Played poor
No more!
Club house
To souse!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
ANCESTORS
Lady Liberty
And the Lady cries:
"Bring me your lame, maime,
Your poor, your Refugees."
Came by the Mayflower
And others like her,
The first Settlers came
from near and far;
Men, women, children,
old and young.
Bellowing sails flapping
in tempestuous winds,
People courageously sailed,
Getting wet by the rough rolling
waves,
Going to America ahoy!
From these ones a great nation
arose
Hard work and toil, felling trees,
Planting crops, shearing sheep,
raising cattle,
On large expanses of land.
Now descendants benefit,
Flying a Star-spangled Banner.
Crying out with the Lady,
"God Bless America."
(Ellis Island is where the Statue of Liberty is. I was the harborr where persons disembarked from ships to pass through Customs before entering America.)
Land Of Six Peoples
"One People, one Nation with one Destiny";
The voices of six peoples ring out!
A heritage of great repute,
Customs, traditions and cultures so rich,
The Almighty allowed six peoples to evolve!
Six peoples evolved from a
Mixture of cultures enmeshing
The diverse traditions from the diaspora,
Across many seas.
Passed down from the hands of
The Spanish, French, Dutch and British,
The country's heritage is compacted
With lusty multi-ethnic views!
Put together over time, we get -
Art, craft, dance, music sculpting, basket
-weaving and more.
When meshed, these are all showy displays
Of inner passions, interwoven by an
ancestral mix.
Food umbrellas the crave for eating -
Aloo, buns, cassava bread, curry, dahl,
Dumplng, fishcake, foo foo, greens
(vegetables),
Garlic pork,homemade bread, kanki,
Methai, roti, sweetbread, souse,
Black and white pudding.
Music itself is a fanfare for creative artistry,
In dance, theatrical shows, lyrics
and composing songs.
These echo on mountains, bellow in valleys,
and cause feet to stamp
From the Pakarimas to the Rorrhimas.
(These are the mountain ranges of Guyana. The Palarimas is where the longest One Drop Falls the world can be found.)
Cowards die many times before their deaths…
Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene 2 ~William Shakespeare
spouse
a souse
classic grouse
a big girl's blouse
portent ominous
assertions blasphemous
obscure and anonymous
his skulking is nefarious
utterances acrimonious
and implicature often dubious
uxorious but still pusillanimous
**********************************
An example of a rhopalic verse.
Rhopalism: A rhopalic sentence is one in which each successive word is one letter longer than the previous one. In poetry: where each word is one syllable more, or it might increase each line in a stanza by one syllable (per my example), or a metric foot.
IN THE SAME CATEGORY OF CONSTRAINED WRITING
The Rhopalic Couplet, also called Wedge Verse, was first used by Homer in the Iliad (3.182). It is a poetic unit of 2 rhopalic lines where each word progresses adding one more syllable than the preceding word in the line, for example, 1, 2, 3, 4 … syllables. The sequence of the syllable count can be identical in the second line, or it may be reversed. The couplet does not need not rhyme.
_____________________________________________________________
In The Coward, stanzas are broken up along the syllables of the end rhymes: spouse, souse, grouse, blouse; om-i-nous, blas-phe-mous, a-non-y-mous; ne-far-i-ous, ac-ri-mo-ni-ous, du-bi-ous & pu-sil-lan-i-mous.
LEXICON
acrimonious: (adj) (typically of speech or discussion) angry and bitter.
a big girl’s blouse: British idiom, meaning someone is ineffectual or weak; someone failing to show masculine strength of determination
disposition: (n.) inherent characteristics.
grouse: (n.) one who complains constantly.
implicature: (n.)* the action of implying a meaning beyond the literal sense of what is explicitly stated, for example, saying the picture frame is nice and implying I don’t like the picture.
innate: (n.) inborn, natural
nefarious: (adj) (typically of an action or activity) wicked or criminal.
portent: (n.)
1. a sign or warning that a momentous or calamitous event is likely to happen, an omen.
2. (literary) an exceptional or wonderful person or thing. [‘What portent can be greater than a pious notary.’]
pusillanimous: (adj) showing a lack of courage or determination; timid.
souse: (n.) a drunkard.
I savor a hearty repast of meat and smashed pertaters,
And a salad liberally laced with fresh termaters,
But spare me anything slathered with anchovy paste!
('Tis just a matter of my discriminating taste!)
'Tis a gastronomic delight dining on Chinese cuisine,
But my appetite is dulled by things best left unseen,
Such as bird's nest soup and octopus when it is faced!
('Tis just a matter of my discriminating taste!)
How delectable are hams, bacon and sausages to eat,
But my stomach roils upon seeing a pigs pickled feet,
Or souse containing stuff that should be consigned to waste!
('Tis just a matter of my discriminating taste!)
Moroccan folks are wizards at brewing their tea,
But cous-cous with glazed sheep's eyes staring at me,
Is more than I care for when before me it is placed!
('Tis just a matter of my discriminating taste!)
I'm a glutton for cookies, puddings, pies and cakes,
But I'm repelled by the flesh of 'gators and rattlesnakes!
As can be seen, ordinary vittles I have embraced!
('Tis just a matter of my discriminating taste!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
A Very Merry Christmas
T’ was the night before Christmas
And all through the house
Spoons were stirring the drinks
Held by every souse
The shot glasses were filled
With three kinds of whiskey
Though were often spilled
When Myrna got frisky
The highballs were placed
On the chimney with care
Until Uncle Nicholas
Tripped over the chair
By chance no kids awoke
Because of that slouch
But Grandpa slid off
His warm comfy couch
“What was that,” He asked
“Was there a collision?”
Which in this case there was,
And not one of his visions
Yet, before lying back down
Gramps had one more night cap
Then slumped onto the couch
And squashed poor Nips the cat
While out at the bar
There arose such a noise
Because Myrna was flirting
With some of the boys
I sprung from the recliner
To help my dear cousin
And saw lads sucking shots
From her pierced belly button
Away to the window
I flew for my life
But when looking outside
There was my modest wife
Dancing in circles
Around the snowman
Though minus a coat
Being half in the can
When I hopped to the door
But who should appear?
My dear uncle George
With a cooler of beer
I had to think fast
For my wife and Nick
And for Myrna inside
Yes, I had to think quick
Then came inspiration
To set up the maneuver
Of thumbing my phone
For the app to Uber
I had fifteen minutes
Until the taxi’s came
So I shouted and called
Everyone by name
Now Nicholas, now Myrna
Now dear Grandpa G
Yo Uncle George
Climb in a taxi
I called to my cousins
In the midst of a brawl
It’s time to drive away
For Pete’s sake, drive away all!
And then in a twinkling
I saw on the roof
My wife of all things;
Still high on forty proof
I didn’t call out
Knowing she’d crash
Yet she jumped in the chimney
Landing on the heaped ash
She was dressed in a robe
That turned coal black
And I was surprised
Coz she clutched a small sack
Then my wife oddly asked
If I thought she looked chubby
But I knew that trap
Being her hubby
I spoke not a word
As she quickly rose
But when I picked her up
Tore her panty hose
I sprung to the bedroom
Flopped her on the bead
While the sack she held
Knocked me upside the head
But the bag just contained
A large carrot and stones
And ‘Merry Christmas To All’
Displayed on her phone.
It crept upon me,
From the age of eight,
Who knew the depths of hell,
That that first taste would lead?
The singing and jokes,
The dancing and shouts,
It all seemed grand to me.
It ate deep inside,
My nervous system,
Trapped by age twenty one,
The gates of hell opened,
For a ten year slog,
Jobs ended, friends left,
Caught in the jaws of death.
Guinness, Jack Daniels,
A Stella Artois,
Ten pints of Heineken,
Two bottles of strong gin,
Brandy, Vodka, wine,
Amazing amounts,
And then came the extras,
Speed, coke, weed, crack, meth
All leveled by booze,
I couldn't leave the house,
Without inebriation,
It soon gets lonely,
When you're a soaked souse,
Even dealers hate drunks.
Deep in the gutter,
Too bruised and battered,
The world keeps spiraling,
Choose terror or madness,
An endless nightmare’
Of fear and denial,
That severs brain from heart
To go into hell,
Is to find yourself,
Ironic: loss is gain,
Who knew that addiction,
Was a path to truth,
You stand face to face,
With the cruel facts of death.
I can’t believe I’m out,
that colossal maze,
Of grave embarrassment,
You must lose everything,
Not least dignity,
Alone, naked, raw,
Stood on a precipice.
Hard to make it out,
Make it out alive,
It’s hard to make it out,
Your face in the mirror,
Stripped bare and empty
It feels like the end,
But a crossroads appears.
Try until you die,
Fight against this curse,
It’s inherited,
And ingrained in culture,
Anyone can fall,
And it’s amazing,
You may seem to fall far,
But it’s never too late.
I
When a spat leaves you blue-faced and chokin'
This advice may keep love's bond unbroken:
Don't go angry to bed,
Listen to what's being said
And not merely to what's being spoken.
II
A man marries then struggles the rest of his life
Trying to keep his home free from all worry and strife.
It won't enter his head
'til long after he's dead,
That he might should have wed a less extravagant wife.
III
A new wife was installed as the queen of her house,
And for a while quite content with no reason to grouse.
T'was a cruel trick of fate
When she found out, too late,
That her mate was a souse and a louse of a spouse.
IV
A husband, fed up with his wife's constant yammer,
Went ballistic and bashed out her brains with a hammer.
At his trial her removal
Won the jury's approval,
And his (suspended) sentence, six months in the slammer.
Clyde Rolf
Played golf
First nine
Went fine
Next nine
Not fine
He muffs
In roughs
Sand trap
Oh crap
Tough break
In lake
Bad hook
In brook
Blew putts
Some klutz
Hurled putter
In gutter
O'er par
By far
Disgust
He cussed
Clubhouse
To souse
A Villanelle by Jelsr
Junebug couldn't stop thinking about the hood the house
It was just so slumming and urban
Never had he known anything so robust
That morning, Junebug was shocked by loss
He had to calm himself with a cross
Andy couldn't stop thinking about the house
Later, Taten was spooked by a townhouse
He tried to focus on a herein
Never had he known anything so in-house
Junebug tried to distract him with a penthouse
Said his mind had become too interurban
Taten couldn't stop thinking about the pit-bull eating rotten souse
Hood rats playN dominos
Wild cats in the trash cans crunching Doritos
Come to find out they were both under the influence
Homeless living in a crack-house
2/10/2023
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
Clyde Clark
In park
Was boozy
Real doozy
Did pee
On tree
Broke law
Cop saw
Tied hands
With bands
To jail
Sans bail
Called spouse
"You souse"
Said she
To he
"Stay there
Don't care"
(Later before the judge)
"Where ere you be let your water flow free", was Clyde's creative defense.
Ha! Ha! grinned the judge! "Thirty days in the slammer for this offense!"
Gratitude attitude grow
Peacock attitude away throw
Though temptations line up in a row
Pointless, heartless any soul you to hurt
Under no circumstances invective blurt
Because so doing grows you curt
Achieving trinkets, reaping limpets
As you blow trivial trumpets
Deriding, riding, restless strumpets
In your city where contempt
Fashionable in an objectional attempt
To parade low grade hair unkempt
For aeons under neon lights
Illuminating prudish, brutish fights
Meant to ignore the snore of plights
Street kids endure under the watch
You observe at close quarters to catch
Miscreants and recidivists who latch
Onto corruption
To catalyze the eruption
So blatantly witnessed in the disruption
Probity suffers as wafers
Vanish into thin air when quaffers
Poke fun at a senile souse who suffers
Ravages of loneliness
You regret in the context of silliness
Egrets and open secrets endure as holiness
Suffers its biggest reverse
To learn men of the collar deemed so averse
To child molestation in vows so diverse
Embarrass your church
Leaving doubting Thomases in the lurch
As for meaning and direction they search
Wondering if hypocrisy in this crisis
Should call and recall paralysis
To promote or demote dialysis
As a cure for the malaise
Believers suffer in the craze
That undermines set standards in a maze
In which a plethora of anguish
You bear as you strive to distinguish
Reality from fiction. Your faith don’t extinguish
Or else you throw baby together with bath water
In the church and in your quarter
To deny you opportunities for malfeasance to alter.