Best Thwack Poems
Today, meandering through the clutter of the local antique store,
I almost tripped and fell over an object partially hidden on the floor!
My hands came to rest on an old-fashioned school desk sitting there.
It reminded me of the one I occupied in my school days, I do declare!
My thoughts drifted back through the misty past to reminisce and ponder.
As I caressed its oaken surface with my fingers, I began to wonder.
Did it once grace a simple one-room prairie schoolhouse in Indiana?
Might it have come from a rustic schoolroom in the state of Montana?
The slanting top of the old desk was scratched and with ink was stained.
I saw faint initials carved by an idle lad whose attention span had waned!
The varnish was worn off the folding seat by many a squirming kid.
Wads of chewing gum still adorned the underside of the folding lid!
I recalled sitting at one of those uncomfortable desks trying to stay awake!
As Miss Ruth droned on and on, all I could think of was the recess break!
The room reeked of oranges and fried egg sandwiches we'd bring to munch.
Kids of means paid a dime to eat finer fare in the lunchroom for their lunch!
I recalled the thwack on my knuckles of Miss Ruth's ruler to get my attention,
And what awaited me at home for misbehavior with growing apprehension!
(A clerk noting my glazed eyes asked, "May I help you sir? Is anything amiss?"
"Nah", I replied. "If you please, I'd like to stand here awhile and reminisce!")
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
She's thrice now had a scarlet groom
Adorned in silk this dusty room
She sobbed away sorrows in black
When she discovered the knapsack
In gold and pearls, did sorely lack
And her head and palm greeted, smack!
Like his body met the floor, thwack!
The house empty, less her they track
Hardened heart, hollowed like a tomb
Was it lover's spat or planned doom?
------------
Duo-rhyme? Not quite got the iambic tetrameter down, but I tried.
a bee
invaded our car in
nineteen fifty four
while we were driving
to the jersey shore
flew in my open back window
of our two tone ford custom
pea green top black bottom
hurtling down the highway
four kids two adults
doing sixty
our kid arms outside the windows
flailing and pushing the wind
no cares
must have looked from above
like some giant green beetle
lotsa wiggly white legs
once the bee was inside
it was havoc
screaming and screeching
kids curled up in fear
in the rear
mom and dad barking out orders
we knew it had a stinger
it wanted to get us
stab us
never really saw its sticky spear
scary when needles are near
it buzzed all about
for a minute or two
up to the windshield
back near my ear
mom tried to thwack it
with her home journal
but missed
it disappeared
we all wanted to kill it
that is what you do with bees
waited and waited
no bee
then in a fury it came out
from under the front seat
hiding in a sea of springs
plotting for its moment
its chance to escape
we must have gone twenty miles
with it in our car
so out it came
buzzed a bit
then flew out my window
gone
we all took a sigh of relief
the villain excommunicated
after the yapping stopped
silence for a few miles
then i got a slow sadness
how will it find its home
it was very very far away
i thought if i was the bee
maybe i would feel lost
i remember when mom
found me in wanamakers
in toys
mom leaned over the front seat
and said
his home is everywhere
huh
that was enough for me
even though i had no clue
what it all meant what to do
my first lesson in empathy
taught by a teeny thing so wee
a bee
free verse 74 lines 326 words
Pen illustration G. Gaul
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
silence thick
smothers midnight’s breath
shapes shift slow, unseen
streetlight hums wordless bisque hymns
bus brakes sigh
bus halts, waits
exhaust fumes taste sharp
wipers thwick-thwack-thwoc
blades clearing what eyes can not
squeak. blink. gone.
To tennis
What a cracking sport
To play, to lose all worldly cares.
Returning
To the tennis court –
That small rectangle, out of time;
Win or lose
It doesn’t matter,
I’ll keep my focus on the game,
Satisfy
My ruthless nature
With tuneful thwack of gut on rubber.
One set all,
It’s forty-thirty:
A sizzling ace secures the game.
Up above
In beech tree grandstand,
A crowd of rooks croak their applause.
With topspin,
Drop-shot, forehand smash,
Exhausting rally,……. gasp for breath,
All too soon,
Game, set and match, then
It’s back to work, my lunchtime spent.
The archers’ line was straddled,
By many a shapely calf.
The Marshall called the nocking,
And winked at the pretty lass.
The Maiden drew the bowstring back,
To her ruddy cheek,
As she fired her fledgling flights;
They heard the fair Maid "Eek!"
Chorus
"Sing Hey Ho, best beware!
Hey Ho have a care,
If ye've any pretty parts,
Ye'll keep them out of there!"
The bowman smiled and nodded,
As the Maiden struck a pose.
"Try again M'Darlin' Dear,
"But watch out for y'er nose!"
The Maiden rubbed her forearm,
And looked back with a glare.
Nocked another arrow shaft,
And hit the bull's-eye square.
Gentles all they tipped their hats.
The Marshall cleared the field.
The Maiden went to fetch her flights.
The men trod close at heel.
Returning with a manly stride,
Yet again, she took her stance.
The bowmen's eyes all glimmered,
With mischief far in advance.
Chorus
Pulling back her bow string,
To her crimson cheek so close,
She let another arrow fly free.
The string hit her in the nose!
Tears welled in the Maiden's eyes.
All the gentlemen rushed the Dear.
Wiping the pretty lassies face,
Of every single tear.
They brushed the few stray auburn locks
From before her green-brown eyes
Handed her the fine longbow,
And heard her sorrowful sighs,
"Do try again M'Dear Mistress,
But for your form we fear,
So, be very, very, careful Maid!
Keep those nipples out of there!"
Chorus
'Twas 'pon the final flurry,
As she drew string back to cheek;
"Thwack" went the taunting bowstring,
And again the Maiden "Eekked!"
Her cheeks they blanched a deathly white,
'Pon her brow there came a frown;
Still, when the Marshall called count;
She gamely shot the round.
"Sing Hey Ho, don't be scared,
Hey Ho just take a care,
'Tis simply a friendly warning
Not to put ye're pretty parts there!"
Wur in RE an the nuns are gien
oot sweeties, fur getting the kweschins right.
Three oota three, then she’s askin mae who Jesus’ mither is.
‘Ah doan’t know sista,’ ah tell hur.
She isnae happy an tells mae tae hink aboot it. So ah dae
an ah wurk oot Jesus wis god. It wis a trick kweschin,
‘he didnae hiv ah mither.’ Ma
sweet stoats aff the side ae ma heid.
She’s spittin in ma coupon fur a name, an
diggin hur digits in ma neck.
‘Ah doan’t know who Jesus’ friggin mither wis!’
Miraculously ah float tae the front ae the cless. Ma haun’s oot,
bit ah doan’t hink shill hit mae wae that big stick. Thwack!
Ah look doon it the bloody gash through ma puddlin
eyes, ‘yoo’ve broke ma haun’ ah croak,
then turn roon an boak.
Inspired by and dedicated to
Sara Kendrick and her poem "Chicken"
I once had a chicken
Came out of his egg kick-in'
He was the strangest thing , I've ever seen
This chicken had two necks but he only had one head
I'm guess-in' that's why he was so mean
I wasn't 'till much later
That a Chef asked the waiter
To go buy some chickens, at my farm
So I told him, as far as chickens
HE, should do the pick-in'
So he grabbed-up the fryer, in his arms
Although it was some trouble
He saw his profits double
Figure-in' to buy one and get one free
The Chef was really please
As he took that bird with ease
Then turned-up the stove a few degrees
He gave the bird a whack,
And there was a sudden thwack
As that little fryer's head, hit the floor
He thought he had struck gold
When he started to unfold
Seeing that the bird, had offered more
Two gizzards and three livers
Is what this bird delivered
And the Chef thought this made a darn good start
But further on inspection
There was a sad detection
The poor little Fryer had no heart
So I've learned, Not to be mean
Or you'll end up a cuisine
So, be nice and kind from the very start
Even if you're bless,
Having more than the all rest
Don't be a little Fryer with no heart
Gargle, glop, burble and glug,
The sauce in the bottle was glued.
It oozed so slow, not wanting to leave,
To cover all of my food.
A thump and a thud with a thwack on its base
Didn’t convince it to ooze any faster.
I guess it really didn’t want to cover the peas,
The chips, the mash or the pasta.
Then an idea popped into my head
To persuade it to flow like a stream.
I could gently warm it, with a little hot water,
Make it foam and simmer and steam.
Yes, it splashed, it flowed, I had broken its hold,
It would satisfy with a flavored up quench.
Then with one last wallop, the sauce flew from the bottle,
Far and wide, splashing all over the bench.
Hear O maiden, on whom desire springs forth
It brews mine soul, chiming taste after port
Have thou detour, pursuit never will cease
Inside dungeon, dwells memoirs begging peace.
Not once does sole eddy whispers’ depart
Birds dance at lightning’s amazing glory,
Nervy morose obeyed deadly loch art
Baffle tongue shields the shame of thath fury.
Autumn for willow vale, bright morning frost
Exalts unto thy blossom: chilled breeze toss.
Adieu for day, thwack wilt kindle cost,
Extreme snide flits; Dank! Flout insolent loss.
Once again, thorn manifest lover’s hope
Outre’ wish from her behest painful pop.
Sitting, watching my favorite fishing channel on TV,
Then I hear my wife screaming, calling out to me.
I run up the stairs, into the bathroom, a huge spider,
She stopped screaming and I saw what frightened her.
I was startled when I gawked at first glance,
Have you seen one this big? Don’t raise your hands all at once.
I took off my slipper and with a might thwack,
Hit the bugger right across its back.
It just stood there dazed; surely it must have felt pain,
I thought it had looked at me as if to say tickle me again.
I put on my thick rubber gloves and gave it another whack,
Quickly picked it up wrapped it in tissue, flushed it and that was that.
My wife was all over me, hey to nights the night,
I actually did something for once that was right.
She took her shower and beckoned me to the room,
I felt the same way as if I were a newly wed groom.
So I took my shower tarted myself up for the kill,
Killing that spider earned me brownie points, a good deal.
I put on my gown and looked in the mirror, combed the eye brows,
Then I saw it, bigger than one I killed the size of a turd from a cow.
It covered my head and it began to hiss,
This spider was a mother of a size and it was pissed.
I screamed not a the sight of it but what was to happen,
My wife had a 2x4 aiming for it, ready to clap him.
I moved forward toward the mirror, the spider saw itself and jumped to attack,
The 2x4 came down with force and hit me on the head and the back.
I fell toward the spider and screamed, it jumped in my mouth,
I passed out but before I did I felt it trying to head south.
I fell on the wash basin, my teeth scraped the bowl chopping it in two,
In my unconscious state my mouth began to chew
The ambulance driver thought the foam in my mouth was due to a cardiac arrest
So they gave me two thousand volts on the chest
I got up with a scream, spat the **** end of the spider that made me choke
It stuck to the ambulance driver’s nose which I then broke
This happened at such a fast pace
Now I had my head stitched up and I’ve been done for GBH
Ps. I am still waiting to get some Love
© 2000
One cold November, in the not-too-distant soon
the echoes of these shores will ever silent be
as fewer come each year to where their pals were strewn;
on Omaha, among the rest of war’s debris.
Fewer again will hear cannons roar, a rifle’s snap,
a bullet’s thwack, the screams of pain, the corpsman call.
And yet they come, the few, in regimental cap
across from far and wide, to stand, salute, recall.
One cold November, when the last of them has gone
will we still hear the echoes of the silent shore?
Will we remember what it is for us they won?
Or is it just the closing of another door?
New horizon never done this before
new landscape
running out of time running out of space out of ink
the only reminder of this reality
pack it up, the thwack thwack of this machine is pulsing
a mind of its own
mechanical brain
mechanical body
keys striking like a viper against the page
a row of steel teeth lashing out against imagination
a row of Buddhist Monks
a row of Muslims
all bowing towards this essence of creation
going in and out of this world
riding the wave of unseen spring time rain
spring time water gushing forth
shared by all
territory mused by all
drink from this chalice, this jug my friends
come join us in this moment
this beautiful sunrise
even the sunset is nice
as the moon waxes
pours out like the candle stick
melting and running down too the floor of the psyche
recall this moment when the light dimmed
shadows all staring in calm desperation
waiting for the sun to rise again
gripping my cold embrace
we hugged
kissed
cried
as the animals howled
and so did we
our perfect random chaos
Twas accursed destiny
since birth alack
nascent emasculation abominable barrack
emergent deus ex machina,
viz zit ting older sibling counterattack
thirteen plus chronological gap
eldest sister struck like diamondback
surrogate "mother" role
assumed tubby exact
protectorate pseudo fullback
against cruel beastie boys
bullying barbs
comeuppance giveback
pummeling spongiform
gray matter (yours truly)
fisticuffs she didst highjack
proxy mothering
kept corporeal essence intact
jilting nefarious nemesis aligned
(maligning) and stalking,
this fee-fi-fo-fum
ordinary bean sized Jack
are runt (arrant) cowardly
(non lion) nerdy lad owning a knack
courage lack this glum
older married chap doth adumbrate
satisfactory accomplishments lack
king, where crazy quilt aimless wandering
described purposeless multitrack
thus, sympathetic
to hue men/women nonblack
or decimated aborigines
once populating Australian outback
existential nihilism would,
undergirding hypothetical
unwritten paperback
with little need to prevaricate,
nor appear as quack
pot, one measly *****sapiens,
who accrued millennial palimpsest zeitgeist
where, punctured
disequilibreated psyche dust rack
asper protean (in utero)
multitudinous setback
soundlessly resonating
with concussive thwack
as this rickety ship of state
(a haunted junk ket)
unwanted emotional ballast to unpack
asseveration, asper assiduously
preferably welcoming
dry suction no vac
jar this pawn (knight wannabe
in his bishop rick) torrid
me psychological wrack
king within (castle keep)
complex edifice shackled
in dungeon with repast constituting.
Acacia tree satel’ the prairie land
townsfolk gather the witnessing stand
music man muster the rhythm band...
a waltz they played,
gravedigger prep a solo grave,
shackles jingle limbs accursed...
hands, feet,
each thwack step... weak, weak, weak,
hidden from popular sight
a woman, Abigail, weep
latched onto mercy’s flee.
hers the lie condemned the meek,
hangman readies the gallows floor
spring-door springs, dangling legs swings,
neck snaps a hoarsen gasp,
buckeyes bleed,