Best Winch Poems
With hands immersed in suds and water warm,
I stand before the sink, humbled vassal,
To plates and dishes, grease and grime the norm,
My task to cleanse this polychromed passel.
Each cup I cradle with a gentle pinch,
Their curves and corners, every angle blessed,
Rinse them speckless, my soapy palm a winch,
A chore completed, my service at rest.
For though this labor at face is mundane,
It's in the simple things we find our grace,
And so I wash each dish with grateful strain,
And let their gleaming surfaces erase
The chaos and the clutter of the day,
A small but satisfying task, I say.
CAR COURT
Enter, the older heavyweight steel giant,
The bailiff, a 1954 Hudson, reads unhesitant :
On the docket for this morning : guilty by implication - a Trabant,
In close custody with a Cutlass Supreme for supervision.
Next on the docket: a Pinto for likely gas-tank explosion.
Third on the docket: an English-made car (any marque) - body corrosion.
Lawyer for the prosecution, a pretentious character, a gas guzzler SUV
4x4 off-road with winch - for Saturday use on driveway only -
Hangs out with Vettes; and uses NO2 in fuel. Who?Drugs? Not me!
Downbeat guy as the defence counsel , a solid no nonsense Hummer,
A real enviro-bummer,
Klutzy ugly and personality like a mack truck in summer.
Trabant coughed its way to the stand.
Clerk of court Volkswagen, order in hand,
Read the indictment quietly, efficiently, bland.
Prosecution began with noisy opening musical-horn tunelets
The jury, all serious-minded stolid Volvos and Toyota Starlets
Were not impressed. Hummer clumsily interrupted with an objection, “Let’s
Stop, on the grounds of precedent,” but at this point Pinto reversed,
Crushed its trunk and its gas-tank exploded, and worst ,
Hit the the English car : and into flames they both burst.
Cutlass argued with the SUV, which was winched away pending sentence.
Case against the English car dismissed from lack of evidence.
Trabant was deported back to Germany: no import licence
Overseeing all these proceedings : the ever-reliable, I-won’t-budge,
The I-have-a-spotless-reputation, I-hold-no-grudge,
The mechanical virgin, the silent Rolls Royce as judge.
...........................................................................................................
I have some favorite tools I use,
Whenever I ply my trade,
From the hammer in my leather pouch,
To the retractable cutting blade.
I also love the spanners I have,
One metric, the other in inch,
When I use them to tighten to my car,
The small electric motor winch.
And the ratchet, socket and circular saw,
Displayed inside my shed,
I love these names said loud and proud,
From mallet to Phillips Head
And I use these tools every day,
I use the chisel, the grips, the wrench,
I love disappearing all the time,
By my old warn wood workbench.
Lobster Fishing
It was still dark when I arrived at five o’clock
I commenced the day by going to the wrong dock
I was a little concerned that I may be late
When I arrived they were still loading bait.
The boat started up with a thunderous sound
You must stay the channel so you don’t run a ground
Next you head into the safety of the bay
Everyone’s quiet with not much to say.
As we turn the corner the sun divides the sky and sea
A blend of orange, purple and blue explode in front of me
The sea starts to pick up and the boat gets tossed
A peace grows within all else is lost…
You pull the traps up in what’s called a set
You winch them on board to see what you get
My job was to restock the bait
It seemed kind of an ironic fate.
It was pretty hard work yet so much fun
Me, the boat, the sky and the sun
We had a pretty good catch and turned to go back
The auto pilot planned our course of attack
On the way in you wash down the boat
It cleaned up quite well with water and soap.
As I view around me as it was time to go
The sea put on its own picture show.
When we returned to the river the tide had come in
All of the lobsters had been placed into bins
The boat was too tall to fit under the bridge
Like smooth sailing and then hitting a ridge.
We had to unload the boat so the catch wouldn’t be lost
Our pride and a little work was all that it cost
When we had finished it was time to rest
Having comfort in knowing we did our best.
We cleaned up and had dinner to end the day
This is my lobster tale of today
Everyone found humor in what I had to say
Then we said goodbye and went on our way.
When I got home I fell fast asleep
I dreamed of a bottom far too deep
It was a long day and I needed to rest
The lobster became someone else’s dinner guest.
My wife went shopping yesterday
Posted missing what do the police say
Her weight color and eyes
Please tell me he cries
I need to know for the missing's display
Hey dude can you help me a little more
I know the more you tell hurts you sore
Was she slim was she fat
As a matter of fact
For this loss I'm feeling you adore
What kind of car was she in when she went
Did you own or was it a rent
C'mon, don't be a schmuck
She stole my lovely truck
Charge her for this felony dissent
Hey dude, we apologise for this run of luck
Describe her, for your so out of luck
"Brand new Stealth Black 2015 Ford F150 Raptor
4x4 with eco-boost 5.4L V8 engine special
ordered with manual transmission. Black ARC
bullbar with winch and LED driving lights.
Rock sliders and snorkel. It has custom matching
black canopy over the truck bed.
Hayman Reece towing package. I added a 4"
lift kit with stealth black special alloy wheels and 3.5"
off-road Mickey Thompsons. Custom leather seats
and RM Williams floor mats. DVD with HEMA
navigation system, 21 channel CB Radio,
six cup holders and four power outlets.
She even scratched the door, as he fills up,,,,
Don't worry buddy, we'll soon find your truck
.
Another request to Limerick another Joke.
A little different from the norm, but who gives a truck ;-)
Dame Judy Dench
Loves to fish for Tench
When she fixes her motor
She uses a wrench
If she’s feeling tired she sits down on a bench,
DJD is polylingual;
Her favourite language is French,
When she has a pooh in the morning
It causes a stench
DJD is a strong woman,
When Germans talk about her they call her ‘mensch’,
If she gets excited
Her buttocks they clench
When DJD gets dehydrated
Her thirst she will quench,
She is a fine looking woman,
But never call her a wench,
DJD did military service
She learnt to dig a slit trench,
She's into prehistory
And loves to visit Stonehenge,
DJD don't take no -
If she is dissed she'll get her revenge
She is super organised
When she does her filing she uses a big hole punch
If she gets hungry mid morning
She pauses for brunch,
If Helen Mirren calls round they go out for lunch,
DJD is very intuitive
and likes to follow a hunch,
Her off shore investments
Protected her from the credit crunch,
She's a feisty lady -
A reporter asked if 'she had a carer'
Well he got a bunch
Of fives from this diva
But to her friends she is staunch,
Even Harvey Weinstein - DJD protected his paunch,
Said she had a tat of his name on her bum
Cos her career he relaunched
With Victoria and Albert -
She never gives an inch
If Bond is stuck in a ditch
She pulls him out with a winch,
She takes on all the bad guys,
You never see her flinch,
When delivering a soliloquy
She makes it look like a cinch
She should be world president,
Donald J Trump would be the first one she would lynch!
(Any resemblance between said title,
as told tummy by ya finch,
and commander in chief,...
not accidental, nor a cinch
buttock hum posed on behalf
of these bottom ming out
fifty states, plus Puerto Rico inch
ching, donning, and clamoring
desperately for fluffin snuff pinch)
hitter to aright "FAKE"
government even a cameo by David Lynch,
would pilot ship of state with nary a flinch
bucking creative enterprise winch
cha ya know
as writ by this average Joe
brainstorms offbeat ideas
caw king like a black crow
boot probably relegated
to same fate as dodo
bird long extinct,
asper could also be woe
full destiny of this poe
whit (wannabe), plus aspirant
aiming, mulling, vying,
et cetera tubby
next presidential bozo
and thwart further ruses to hoodwink
by subterfuge, treachery, unethical...brink
man ship, Capital One citizen bankers
to re: captcha how to MAGA,
and avoid pitching country
slipping into behavioral sink,
which White House bumstead "FAKE"
golden blond dee antics even entice pink
panther to coon sitter entering 2020 elections
amidst what promises tubby hang nail biting,
knuckle cracking, hair pulling - each kink
Putin on brakes against
collusion, sans frightful - link
king voter bribery, disenfranchisement, fraud...
calling joint efforts of Captain Nemo,
Captain Kangaroo, Captain America...ink
kin, a pact (minus any imp) potent fink
power hungry, money grubbing, apprenticed
tan hatt man spinning wheel of misfortune
beady barren eyes that never blink
immodest, impertinent, impudent,
et cetera hyperlink
to flesh eating, debauchery,
bacchanalian web pages
kickstarting naked lunch high jink.
Why, does existing have to be
burdensome. My mortal thoughts flee
like rain drumming at my window,
then trickles releasing a dam
leaving me brittle to exam
my own conscious; what do I know.
Surpassing life hopes as I winch
loneliness devours inch by inch.
My lips quake and swell at my low
detaching my dying cinder.
I can't take another winter
confronted with the ebb and flow,
not being able to foresee
mental skills decline as I grow
old and suppose to comfort me.
6/12/2018
The wind faces us down, a bitter housemaster
seeing our tricks, he raises his willowy cane,
jealous of our freedom and wings
Then pitiless comes the mighty blow,rips the
boys hand from the sea/a thousand lines
I must drive my cutter to the wind
I must drive my cutter to the wind
And planets hidden by the clouds, jostle
for place so that a man might see, and
take to their contrary taste, while
The briny rope on brass lugs and
staysail winch and flapping watery
forehatch, scream for solace in the
Brassy ferment; and in the heavens, a
widow’s veil contains the sludge-black
clouds above, where seagulls and pitiless
puffins, with filled-bills, carry their fishy
death to nest.
And on the shore perfidious, dread-filled
processions of daughters and wiry sons,
keep the vigil by the hearth; where wild
wive's wombs, upset by thunder’s booms,
wade their watery tombs.
Shiver me timbers
What's going on
I was dressed as a pirate
When I woke up this morn
I looked in the mirror
And let out an Arrrr....
I came equipped an eye patch
And a swash buckling scar
I felt the strong urge
For grog, meat, and cheese
Went into the kitchen
Told the winch who lives with me
It's my new pirate attitude
That I have to thank
For the look that I got
And why I'm now walking the plank
When I arrived at the office
It wasn't the ship I'd hoped for
And security at the front desk
Barred me from bringing my saber to work
With all these modern day regulations
How's a pirate to get a break
When the only body of water nearby
Is a drainage ditch and man made lake
And the only pirate booty
That I'd hoped to see
Is right now swapping the kitchen deck
While talking mutiny
Still the days barnacle adventures
Had a lot going on
As my head hits the pillow
I wonder what I'll wake up as tomorrow morn
I am so enthralled by a verse
an impressive and virile style conquered
quenching one’s thirst seems hardly emerge
however; all songs, stories and ideas being shared
are gems and have secrets unparalleled when compared
some of the lines titillate the many of my senses
some are like music being played in syncopated rhythm
words paints the images either in abstruse or in complex pieces
undulating emotions rock most of my system
torch of learning is a winch to my fervid will power’s stem
dazzled by highly metaphorical words as if vitreous rocks radiate
like tales of unprecedented events trying to amuse me under the rain
viewing it with fire of ceaseless aims through words that substantiate
analyzing processes be done like sifting and winnowing of grains
a triumph of a glorious scene, a clear topography reigns
Written: March 13, 2013
By Leonora Galinta
(for occlusion contest)
Second Place
Contest: Occlusion
Judged: 3/18/2013
Sponsor: Poet Joe Maverick
Shiver me timbers
What's going on
I was dressed as a pirate
When I woke up this morn
I looked in the mirror
And let out an Arrrr....
I came equipped an eye patch
And a swash buckling Scar
I felt the strong urge
For grog, meat, and cheese
Went into the kitchen
Told the winch who lives with me
It's my new pirate attitude
That I have to thank
For the look that I got
And why I'm now walking the plank
When I arrived at the office
It wasn't the ship I'd hoped for
And security at the front desk
Barred me from bringing my saber to work
With all these modern day regulations
How's a pirate to get a break
When the only body of water nearby
Is a drainage ditch and man made lake
And the only pirate booty
That I'd hoped to see
Is right now swabbing the kitchen deck
While talking mutiny
Still the days barnacle adventures
Had a lot going on
As my head hits the pillow
I wonder what I'll wake up as tomorrow morn
Dawn breaks ruby red, windy day in sight.
Sailors scorning its warning, grab a bite
Pack their gear, rush to yacht, hoist sails upright.
Sea weathered mates, love to join the fight
Against wind and waves to drive yachts to flight.
Discomfort ignored, sailing sheer delight
For salted down folk, which fair winds ignite,
To crew on helm, winch, fore and aft alike.
Lovely folk for which the tussle and fight,
Fosters heavenly help when woeful plight
Strands boaties in trouble, with fear and fright.
Nothing too much trouble - seafarer rite.
A nice conversation within the twin and me:-
Twin: can you see our faces?
Me: yeah, sure;it looks like matured poop.
Twin: do you want us to honest with you?
Me: No, I want both of you to keep bullshiting
around; till I grab your necks and strangle
continuously, till your skulls squash.
Twin: ok; that's very respectful and fearful. Don't
you have respect for us; almighty king fear and
death?
Me: *hissing* what ever! For all I care; you both
could go drink a full bottle of acid, and knock
yourselves out; while you die of cancer, with all
due respect, idiots!.
Twin: ok, I see this our friendly conversation is
leading to no where, I guess; we will try another
fellow, that is not Nigerian, maybe someone from
Tokyo or Syria.
Me: good you know; at least both of you are
foolish enough to park up your poop faces, and try
another native dustbin bird, you could scold and
steal away so easily. It was nice meeting and
charting with you two retards. For you both; act
like illiterate witches and wizards, preaching the
word of God in hell, and selling holy water, to
winch and quench the burning fire of hell.
Twin: we like you; because you fire up our
curiosity. Can we be your friends?
Me: yeah, sure; you've just found the right hell, to
make you burn successfully.
Me: It was nice melting both of you. Baboons!
_________________________________________
I wrote this poem,because I noticed; the less one
fears,is the more the person achieves and makes
it. So I decided to express my own way of showing
the manner in which, I fear nothing; but only God,
and I respect all whom respect is due to. So this
has made me kill the week reflex in me, and
become wildly flexible to life's abilities. I have
simply become a lability to disability.
I should've learned french before going to a restaurant.
What I ordered there was food that I sure didn't want.
I made the mistake of ordering cerveau and escargot.
When I learned that it was brains and snails, I said that it had to go.
When I refused to eat it, the chef threw me out a window and I got a shard of it in my ass.
I went to a proctologist and he asked me five hundred bucks to remove that piece of glass.
I refused to pay it and I got thrown through a window again.
Now I have two shards of glass in my butt, I can never win.
I can no longer sit down, I have to be suspended by a winch.
If you decide to eat at that restaurant, you'd better learn french.
(This is a fictional poem.)