Best Toted Poems
Above the pristine, blue lake mountains stand
Shrubs and yellow flowers surround on land
Could this be heaven? Garden of Eden?
Reflection in water is of God’s hand
I visit here to cast the world away
An inspiring way to spend the day
My pad and pen are toted to this site
Where I’ve time to think beyond society’s fray
For you will find no conflict at this site
And often I linger here through the night
Nary a creature has threatened me here
Nature in harmony, such a delight
Written for John Freeman’s Rubaiyat contest and based on his lovely photo of
nature’s beauty.
4/25/2011
Categories:
toted, faith, natureurdu,
Form:
Rubaiyat
When big rocks turned into tiny trees
Flocking gulls balanced atop laser beams.
Ginormous people, accompanied by humongous animals, toted big axes behind them.
All of this happened way back when . . .
Way, way back when kids were just plain kids.
4.21.2017
Categories:
toted, children, dream, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
I remember so well the calico aprons that my Mother wore.
She made them from feed sacks that Father needed no more.
She wore them mainly to keep her pretty dresses pristine,
But she found so many other uses for them in her daily routine.
She used them to gather eggs from the henhouse nests,
And to shoo from her garden, crows and other such pests.
Toted in an apron were apples plucked fresh from the trees.
They were used for collecting pods after shelling peas.
Flowers from her garden filled the apron for pretty bouquets.
It held clothes pins to hang clothes for drying on laundry days.
Aprons were used as a receptacle when snapping green beans,
And to gather a batch of lettuce for a salad of tasty greens.
Many times her apron wiped tears from a little boy's eyes,
And wiped her furrowed brow when baking cakes and pies.
They were dandy for last-minute dusting before company arrived.
Without her apron, I don't know how Mom would've survived!
It seems that ladies no longer need an apron to wear themselves,
Since food can be readily snatched from nearby grocery shelves.
An apron is seldom worn by domestic engineers nowadays,
Since tossing supper in a microwave to heat is now the craze!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
toted, nostalgiaclothes,
Form:
Rhyme
He plied the Mississippi River on the paddle wheeler 'Dandy Dame'.
Gamblin' was his profession and three-card monte was his game.
He became very creative at palmin' that elusive ace of spades.
Such dexterity and sleight of hand he had practiced for decades!
He embarked in Saint Louis for a cruise to the town of New Orleans.
On his arm hung one of his gaudily dressed bordello 'queens'!
He wore diamond rings on each finger and impeccably tailored suits,
A homburg hat, pearl studs, gold-tipped cane and alligator boots!
He toted a concealed derringer just in the event there was trouble,
And he took a table near the door so he could lam on the double!
He ordered Jack Daniels bourbon for the dudes he was soon to con,
And sized up the naive and hapless victims who dared to take him on!
The gambler let others win a hand or so to make them feel at ease.
His shill closely watched as the gambler, his moment was to seize!
His winnin's piled up as bettors tried to locate the shiftin' ace.
Losers dropped out of the game and other suckers took their place!
One astute monte player saw the scam and called the gambler's hand.
He drew his forty-fours, chairs toppled and folks fled to beat the band!
The gambler drew his rod but he met his God, blood oozin' on the floor!
His sobbin' 'queen' clasped him to her breast to know his love no more!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 2 in Paula Swanson's "Pick A Card, Any Card" Contest - Jun 2011
Categories:
toted, funny
Form:
Rhyme
tiny hands and huge heart spied this pattern of life
a flight to heaven forerun by sweet token words
you are what you read, but cherished for what you write
a nascent artist who could easily entice
a subtle rhyme from tears that strike the earth
tiny hands and huge heart spied this pattern of life
she toted pen, paper, and the need to recite
phrases that delivered so much more than self-worth
you are what you read, but cherished for what you write
deeply immersed in a literary device
her mind rode this wave like the skilled surfer
tiny hands and huge heart spied this pattern of life
this precocious gift came wrapped in a lavish smile
a child who saw tremendous joy in giving verse
you are what you read, but cherished for what you write
never to be forgotten a soul free of strife
her story tolls like the bells of wisdom and church
tiny hands and huge heart spied this pattern of life
you are what you read, but cherished for what you write
Categories:
toted, child, children, community, death,
Form:
Villanelle
Our earlier actions have bearing on tomorrow,
No matter how minuscule in persuasion they be.
Oft times some reaction toted with it, sorrows,
Undulating toward others who didn't agree.
At times when acting when void of thought,
Assuming our choices would affect just one.
Futile attempts to undo guided us to naught,
Because no action taken ever became undone.
Categories:
toted, abuse, words,
Form:
Lyric
Above my hearth rests a muzzle loader I know not how old.
Ah, could it speak, what adventurous tales to be told!
Oft I've caressed it and pondered time and again,
About where it was made and who its owners might have been!
Lewis and Clark may have used it in their daring odyssey,
To carry out Jefferson's dream and quest for Manifest Destiny!
Could it have been shouldered by Dan'l Boone, that hardy pioneer,
In his exploration of Kentucky to expand the western frontier?
Could it have reposed above the hearth of a humble cabin abode,
Ever ready to keep at bay whatever peril may have bode?
I'm sure it was used by a father with all his skill and ardor,
To provide provender for his family's ever scanty larder!
Perhaps it was fired by a Yank or Reb clashing upon the field of strife,
Brother against brother, bent on sending the other to eternal life!
Mayhaps a grizzled mountain man of the Rocky Mountain west,
Toted it in his quest for beaver fur of which he was obsessed!
Maybe it was aboard a Conestoga wagon pulled by plodding teams,
And carried by a man heading west to fulfill his family's dreams!
I suppose I could attach to it any fanciful tale I might choose,
But about its ancient and mysterious past I much prefer to muse!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
toted, historymay, , western,
Form:
Rhyme
Written: by Tom Wright
January 2015
The memory of a person is established
By the length of shadow cast on earth,
Some shadows remain long after departure,
While others seem to scamper into the grave;
Man is rarely commemorated for two things,
Those not yet started or those left un-finished.
He will be remembered far longer
For contributions made to life’s picnic,
Than for the Doggie bag he toted away.
Yesterday is a storage locker
Containing all of life’s previous endeavors
Tom
Categories:
toted, memory,
Form:
Free verse
I have seen men carved from stone
rising above the Black Hills,
I’ve seen ancient trees born back when
Ceaser still worked his will,
felt a thundering water pound down,
and from four Great Lakes drain,
I have known the prairie silence
that can mess up the brain,
I have seen a bright desert sun
that’s murder on the eyes,
I’ve seen so much in this great land,
but am not satisfied.
I have lain with Asian beauty,
traced touch along her curves,
and I have brawled with drunken foes
over something absurd,
I have toted nephews around
perched high upon my head,
with good friends I have painted towns,
they look better in red,
I’ve worked with people whom make sales
seem effortless, sublime,
learned much from all these folks I know,
yet I’m still not satisfied.
I’ve bashed-up on the broomball court
’till I can run on ice,
skied mountains faster than my car,
arced passage on the white,
ridden horses ten times my weight
and let them know who’s boss,
hiked along a thin cliff-edge path,
somehow made it across,
it seems that almost everything
I am willing to try,
but victory fades oh-so-quick
and I’m not satisfied.
I have read classics quiet profound,
Montaigne and Adam Smith,
earned myself an advanced degree
despite profs quite leftist,
in dorms I’ve stayed up half the night,
argued philosophy,
I’ve called out politicians’ crap
pretty much constantly,
critiqued the deep corrosiveness
of media and their lies,
I’ve read more books than I can count,
I’m still not satisfied.
Though more and more I realize
this might be a good thing,
if people ever were content
then they would stop pushing,
satisfied with just what they have,
their tech, their jobs, their mind,
they’d never trek that extra mile,
to discover and find,
that would just be a slow decay
until the day I died,
the truth of it, I’m glad to say:
I’ll never be satisfied.
We’re not meant to be satisfied.
…we’d just get bored of it anyway.
Categories:
toted, confusion, people, perspective, philosophy,
Form:
Rhyme
Dawn debuted stealthily,
as a breeze rustling through cat-tails;
But time, toted in its attache case,
the not-looked for;
Soon circumstances of the day
were screeching like a Red Tailed Hawk
with eyes set on a field mouse.
Categories:
toted, allegory,
Form:
Free verse
Skookum Jim wuz born the son uv a Chief uv the Tagish Injun tribe.
Ain't much known about his youth - ain't no totem left to describe.
'Tis known he wuz born in the Yukon where man struggles to survive;
Where a man must hunt and fish fer grub - 'tis a wonder he stays alive!
Fer years Skookum packed supplies frum Skagway up the Chilkoot Pass.
'Tis said he was as straight as a rifle barrel and strong as a barnyard ass!
'Tis alleged he toted 156 pounds uv bacon up the pass on one uv his trips,
Strugglin' through sleet, rain and streams - snow reachin' nigh his hips!
'Tis claimed that Skookum Jim discovered gold along ripplin' Rabbit 'Crick',
And started the frenzied Klondike Gold Rush wieldin' his spade and pick!
His sidekick, old George Carmack, who 'married' Jim's sister Kate,
Also takes credit fer the find leavin' the truth wide-open fer debate!
Skookum Jim worked frum dawn to dusk diggin' in the icy slime and muck,
He struck it rich, as the sayin' goes - the more he dug the more he struck!
Many's the night he spread spruce boughs fer his couch in the blowin' snow,
And feasted on beans and bacon fried on campfires at thirty-five below!
He showed up at Mulroney's Roadhouse in loud plaid shirts and gaudy ties.
Jim wuz treated as a white man now and could imbibe in beers and ryes!
As his end neared, Jim made final preparations includin' a coffin and stone.
Alas, few have heard of Skookum Jim who died rich, yet all alone!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
toted, funny, history
Form:
Rhyme
Ralph the garbage rummaging raccoon, found Nipper the cat at Buttermilk Saloon,
he had been suddenly sadly jilted and bleeding heart was extremely wilted.
Decided to stay out with the toms all night, to avoid a cat lover’s feline fight,
she saw him with her cousin in the alley, witnessed them fondly dilly dally.
Ralph being the friend that he was stepped in to aid the love sick cat because,
he adopted Nipper at a very young age, found him under thick forest dry sage.
Ralph toted him to the beastly clinic; he was expiring mighty quick,
drank the house of buttermilk twice his size, he passed out, four paws to the skies.
His paunch was pumped of rotten stench, Ralph was sure his waist lost an inch;
from buttermilk he got really loaded, leaving his small belly hugely bloated.
Ralph was a big brother to Nipper that day, a definite superhero to his fiancé,
who came to her prompt female senses and apologized for her brash offenses.
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Categories:
toted, brother, cousin,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
Platos dualism…
Laertius' "magi”
The most noble say we are an extraordinary event
And I agree with their logic and sentiment
An opportunity occurrence heaven sent
We are an awesome manifestation
We clearly embody an abstract incarnation
In His image complete systems of software emulation
The source energy, burning light, heat, oxygen
A flame ignites testosterone in the equation, estrogen
Essence sparks imagination, particles in circuits charging
Our sensors switched on, physical phenomenon's
Immanuel Kant contrasted it with noumenon's
A thing that is in itself sensed by humans
That which cannot be a direct observation
A world with what might be a spatial dimension
Möbius noted it rotates onto its mirror-image realization
Ruling that it is a universal mind bend
Something unseen to us and a god send
A conscience is alive and will transcend
Grasp the form of order among us, become analytic
These the concepts of the transcendental aesthetic
Leaving what’s not genuine or natural, synthetic
From experience discussions well-reasoned
Born with a formula programed and seasoned
Encrypted to crack codes to play roles in treason
We very well maintain the skeptic stance
Jesus a glitch to some who have no acceptance
But when focused and in a meditative trance
We embrace what is a peaceful coexistence
Bursting when the cosmos quest exploded
Interrelated tech terms, intelligence encoded
Beliefs of the understanding Empiricus’s philosophy noted
Martin Luther's theses, religious revolution then toted
Over conclusions that are only opinion
A servile dependent or a minion
The results will send us into oblivion
Has shown us that by suspending judgment
And by refusing speculative argument
Estimating the quality of worth and engagement
One achieves the state of ataraxia
Good conduct and the practice of eupraxia
Generating good health and euphoria
And through research and great finds
What philosophers teach and is best for mankind
Suspend judgment and attain tranquility of mind
Categories:
toted, analogy,
Form:
Monorhyme
so much precious existence
found me rooted with mouth ajar
as sigh asper the dentin-cementum
so mud dear reader (with dem perfect
enameled pearly whites), aye har bar
envy for those with a complete set
of eight incisors, four cuspids (i.e. canines),
eight bicuspids, and twelve molars
(including four wisdom teeth) tabulating
many hours in the car (engendering
saddle sore bony tuckus)
plus regarding chunk whereat,
pernicious cementum funk
viz distraught psyche, when muss self as a lil monk
key decades after being examined
by family dentist Doctor Marcus (NOT WELBY),
excellent practitioner (button irate pulp pill
people ' especially children) eater – the grump,
whose private practice located
in Levittown, Pennsylvania,
and when prepubescent underwent
pertinent more explicit focused
intense noninvasive procedures
asper subsequent cause of speech impediment
determined why air didst jump
thru nostrils, (speech therapist at Henry Kline Boyer),
neither thin nor plump
informed parents
of Lancaster Cleft Palate Clinic –
fifty plus miles one direction),
where chief prosthodontist
Doctor Mohammad N. Mazaheri, DDS, an Iranian
whose expert reputation, sans strict manner didst trump
his aura, karma evincing clipped commands
forceful as a vocal whump
before launching into meat and potatoes
of crux comprising real aim
constituting modus operandi
(and cresting away from details indirectly tide
into main intent, nobody aye blame)
for thine dental debacle quandary
(managed by gumshun,
whereby eons hyperbolically toted beyond google),
and despite the optimistic stance
wool worth anesthetized numb skull claim
nascent malocclusion faintly affecting,
hinting, pointing toward Periodontitis
(despite diligence attending to oral hygiene frame)
the manifestation of major looming crisis compromising,
forgoing, instigating, et cetera loss of teeth,
this (after agony in league with separate occasions
twice wearing braces, concomitant Extractions
of wisdom and removal of crowdsourcing –
closeup toward the front of mouth teeth - game
Categories:
toted, body, depression, feelings, grief,
Form:
Imagism
A Fix Or Repair Daily was toted
Where Fix It Again Tony was noted
Trump's Tariff wars
Closed garage doors
So my Kick It Again got demoted.
Categories:
toted, business, car, discrimination, integrity,
Form:
Limerick