Best Yawl Poems
Devotional devotees dazzlingly delight
At an amazing aurora’s star of abiding light;
You’re yawl-like year-round of Yahweh’s areole-sight,
Starlight of sunshine, starlight in splendid night,
Twinkling tirelessly ‘til the thickest tip of twilight;
Ardent acclamations in our hearts arise…alight,
Reuniting us in rejoicing with reverence in thy rite!
Dawn sighs a crimson vapor
along a beach of trolls
(pretending to be plastic things)
fond of gleaning the mind
leaving a trail of seaweed and grit behind
that stays with you till the ends
meet time....
The yawl is beached
skin blistered blue till white
listen to wind stories whispering
truth always lies somewhere between
pulp and rind-piper and gull
solitude and scream.
Take a picture of the sunrise
through the foggy lens of
a been there- done that life
but there are new things to see
yes, worthwhile things- aren't there?
Just pan offal from pristine.
and when you've reached
what you've had all along,
hide your disappointment cleverly
wear its flaw on your ringing finger.
I'm heading for unspoiled terrain
{hopefully sooner than later}
rescued from the hearth of a deepening canyon, called uncaring.
A one-way cool air balloon ride
into the lattice of heaven.
I am looking for a way out.
I have been on the battlefield for too long now.
To see what my efforts are worth,
I escalate to seek progress profound.
However, I have gain insight along with a philosophical mind that is overpowering.
Therefore, I must reflect to share with others that may be in the same aura.
A tenet that is intense is that I must procrastinate fate -
Take my time to prefect a greater way.
Walk in stride of belief that
Let the people see
That the cause has evolve
To a grandeur source.
I am looking for a way out.
I want to embrace the knowledge found.
A new world discovered
New ideas uncovered
Treading in confidence because I have earn this self-image.
Therefore, I can see my own reflection.
A precept that has formed is that creation is done through acumen.
Dictum and aphorism are the rules of thumb.
Augmentation lambastes to strengthen the home front.
My eyes are in the sky!
When are yawl going to start partying in the streets -
When I am homeless on a bench or when I am no longer here?
Peace be unto you!
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Scribe July 25, 2015!
Patrick Ewing is Neanderthal, but his wife is pretty yawl.
Neil Cannon face is comical, but Mariah Carey loved him so.
Michael Jordan is crooked teeth and Juanita is petite.
Donald Trump is running for President and so funny in what he represents.
Jeb Bush is so political savvy his teeth sashays.
Mark Anthony and Jay-Lo is an epitome of ethnicity and now divorcees.
Just a critic here trying to make a living.
Tamela Mann king is David Mann, but why is he so weak and his humor never
entertains me.
The Steve Harvey Show on radio is nothing though.
Reverend Marvin Winan got car jacked in Detroit and now he is trying to
revitalize youth to be attack some more.
Hillary Rodham-Clinton fell and knock her brain to a southern hemisphere
thereby becoming cognitive impaired.
Barack Obama states he is not athletic at all, but why is he a cycling kangaroo
–does anyone know?
Dr. Oz is not a wizard a tall.
Just a critic telling the score.
Supreme Court Justice Ginsberg is another political Queen Elizabeth and this is
not a compliment.
Justice Young of Michigan Supreme Court looks like dummy.
Mary J. Blige and Taylor Swift are haters of reality.
Dr. Dre is a Putin made.
Michelle Obama journey will soon sojourn.
Maria Shriver is still in love with Arnold.
A critic that knows from observation.
Lame Jokes!
_______________________________________________|
Written August 28, 2015!
Don't know 'bout you, but I'm in a stew
that Rice ain't nice and the NFL smells.
Seems a shame, just 2 games
suspension for sending fiancé to unconscious dimension
but 5 games in the pink for some "illegal" ink
and a season on the rope for smokin a little dope.
Too bad, violence gainst women so sad
but these are men in a violent pen
NFL pretzel logical?
Whatever the reason, dirty laundry in preseason
washed clean yawl, if Ray take us to the Super Bawl.
Tennis anyone?
https://ca.sports.yahoo.com/news/here-s-how-badly-the-nfl-did-in-its-punishment-of-ravens-rb-ray-rice-200513481-nfl.html
I suppose struggling bards (such as I) are wont to muse
Upon profound or inane topics to propound our views.
So, it occured to me how baffling the English language could be,
To new arrivals to our shores from international potpourri.
Will he ever master the usage of to, two, tutu and too?
Should he order "coal" or "cole" slaw at his favorite rendevous?
Plane could be a woodworking tool or is it that thing in the sky,
Or something plain and simple or a plain of undulating rye?
He tries to sort out the subtleties of yawl and ya'll,
And the nuances of aunt, ant and if that ain't all,
How can he figure out the use of maul, moll and mall?
Is it a golf ball or a formal ball? 'Tis enough to make him bawl!
He must ever ponder if a yard is three feat or three feet,
And is addled about the use of peek, peak and pique.
Is a pupil a kid in class or something to do with the eye?
Buy, bi, by and bye, now what does each of those imply?
His fear is that he'll never get it write or is it rite or right?
He preys (or prays?) for deliverance from his fearful plight.
Momma mia! He's bewildered and just wants to return home,
To that Eternal City in Italy called Rome (or is it Roam?)!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Though Nervous...
Yours truly, quite dissimilar
to a woodlark,
nonetheless, this human
i(r)onically positively charged
to forge covalent bond,
hence this stranger
axon impulse to generate,
modulate, and spark...
assimilate virtual digital connection
with mine quark
key aura, charisma,
and karma acquired,
sans "FAKE" trumpeting
assertion tubby Ozark
Mountain Daredevil, I feign
boasting as true mark
Putin on Ritz storyteller wannabe,
incorporated with hallmark
card writer, and thus
feeble attempt to embark
upon eurythmic quest
to facilitate online journey,
wherever the whim
of reciprocity, spontaneity,
and transparency doth
deem reasonable benchmark.
Blatant camaraderie desire
explains rhyme and reason,
(and collusion) if such tactic appealed
within scrunched, highbrowed, and furrowed
forehead this whim congealed,
eyebrows raised with elan to field
said poetic laced metrical pursuit
(grammatically well healed)
unsure what outcome,
(perhaps duff feeted endeavor)
might be revealed!
At deux score away from
attaining Sant Henny yawl
whirl wide aging cobwebs
glom rusty cogs and wheels
of me noggin pine to flip
(the hands of time)
growing old steals
often playing back gauzy past,
where silently musty
Old Virginny hoary memory reels
squeakily turn, yet revisiting,
painful remembrance of things past
only reminds me how this Scottish Matt
got stepped on by many heels.
Numerous unpleasant vivid bro
kin recollections of doomed,
foregone smitten loves flit to and fro
many awkward boyhood infatuations never
broached to secret paramour,
asper this common Joe
forever embossed pretty thang,
penniless and dolorous 1959 minted
baby boomer lass ne'er did know,
probably snickered (out of mine earshot),
a painfully shy lad, who stood
(rather small) apart from status quo
sported nerdy skinny as toothpick physique
encompassing scared kid accumulating woe.
Even at this instant forlorn romantic
notions finds this papa craze
zilly wished courage existed to
whisper "hello" during prepubescent days
for one gull in particular engendered
unstoppable fervent gaze
especially within cat's whisker
visiting her hypnotic gaze
leaving suppressed, locked, and bottled
languishing testosterone
squelched in confusing maze.
Most everything written
(and learned ya in school)
Yukon coon sitter, (and bet
your bottom dollar) tibia bunch
of contrived information
all details bu...bu...bull...low knee
within this poetic missive
after spending a lifetime crunch
ching numbers, the following
singularly just my hunch,
but despite minuscule
approximate i.e. kid size lunch
meal, (sans two clenched fists,
and weighing about 1.5 kilograms),
not much to munch,
yet if smacked in the kisser
by a pugilist visited
square in the jaw deadly (Judy hush
hiss) sucker punch
whereby the unlucky
recipient may see "unlucky stars"
after brows severely scrunched,
thee above poppycock, and potentially
"FAKE" though (Ripley deed lee)
believe able to ye,
nonetheless behooves me
to segue-way (by Segway) to pre
sent a "TRUE" revelation see
(gnome hatter, aye
cheese silly contradict
mice elf alias Stuart Little) prithee
please just accept what I write
with a grain of salt
(from the Sultan Sea),
cuz yawl do yarself grave
injury and lodge a gree
vance against this harmless
right ham handed cree
chore from the outer limits
of the twilight zone, thus
I STRONGLY ADVISE thee,
NOT to stake eh knee
un mensch chin hubble cogitation,
and figuratively swallow,
hook, conga line
and sinker thine highly suspect re
dunk yule us gobbledygook mee
cully (meekly) reed this
more so asthma
childish entertainment, hence oak key
jist put aside any urgent task
to revel as sigh bee
devil logical syntax
with sum man tricks
playfully wasting yar
precious time free
cully (freakily) inventing outlandish nee
incoherent yawping, towering,
and brutally butchering,
Brooklyn speak (homer over
mayor later mother), she
nearly always... er added
letters "er" at'er the ender
her sentences - er stain?
Alas oh how grave and horrendous misfortune...
Relapse written all over whole
fudge besmirched countenance
American as apple pie garden variety troll
tell tale evidence eats away
at me heart and soul
argh so much for new year's resolution
straight and true healthy eating goal.
Lofty ambition to attain once upon time
coveted, prized, and
treasured toothpick physique,
no not necessarily becoming
thin as anorexic pencil necked geek
scores of years ago,
when yours truly resembled
quiet as mouse phantasmagorical
disembodied prepubescent freak
surreally bobbing long Battle Creek.
Morphological body distortion bid me
to allow, enable, and provide suicidal
grimly reaped tally ho
with feebly uttered see yawl
back in the day circa approximately
my thirteenth circuit round the sun,
I sought to disappear into cellular vacuole
formerly carefree boy
his loose higglety-pigglety
hogtied psyche psychological,
(not in yeast wryly bred) did unroll
severely psychological afflicted son
taxed his mama and papa where
somber appalling death knell
deathly silent lugubriously reverberated
figurative emotional bell toll,
Matthew Scott starved yet hungered
for sustenance of body, mind and soul.
Pact nearly signed, sealed,
and delivered signaling demise
(mine) unwittingly inflicting horrific guise
kickstarting pinteresting repercussions no lies
lifetime developmental delay no surprize
even now this aging baby boomer tries
to shake off pervasive thought process unwise
fending off punishing
self destructive reflexive urge
after experiencing wages
of culinary sin where surge
impossible mission just desserts to purge
thus sink dentures into sweet treat
taste buds relishing joie de vivre emerge
(think chocolate fudge) flashes me memory
prior lovely skull and crossbones
nearly acknowledged funereal dirge.
What to do, when you don’t know what to do?
Here I am between Sunrise and Sunset. All alone in my quite zone, far away from home. Head hung low, wondering how and why it all happen.
Talking to myself, but not listening to myself. Looking at myself, but not seeing myself. Listening, but not hearing myself. Walking, but not moving. Self is in motion, but also out of motion.
Looking up, I asked for help. And they said not yet. Looking down and all around, I felt ashamed. Because there was no one to blame.
I couldn’t cry, it was my fault. So much pain, so much shame. Sorry yawl! Life is not a game. At last, I know what to do. Seek Who? Na!
I’m back in control. On the defining path at last. No more left turns, without first, making the right turn. Now I know what to do.
Yes! I was lost without a boss. Wondering in the desert without H20, and was afraid to let go. So! What To Do, When You Don’t Know What To Do? Do What You Did Not Do. The answer was in front, behind, and beside me.
My eyes did not see it was me. My heart wouldn’t let go, when I asked for more. Finally, after taking intoxicating breaths, analyzing and realizing. Was I able to do, what I had to do.
"Dr. G"
Turn around.. twist.. skip.. jump up .. jump down.. stand on one foot.. hop left.. hop
right.. ok.. blink.. dance.. wave and nod...
Reuben you are out.. yes out.. you know you are out.. you nodded.. I know I said
nod.. but you weren't supposed to nod..
Alright.. is everybody ready.. turn around three times then spit.. yes I said
spit..clap.. raise your hands in the air and clap..
David you're out too.. you clapped.. even if you didn't mean to you did clap.. you
raised your hands right up in the air and clapped..
It's hot out here..holler if you're hot.. sit down.. stand up.. run in place.. hold
hands.. take three steps forward..
Tyler and Tana both of you are out.. I saw you both stepping.. stepping gets most
people so don't be ashamed.. yep you stepped..
It's time to pick up the pace now yawl..laugh.. sing.. shout.. skip.. look up.. look
down.. put your hands in the air.. pull your ear.. pick your nose.. let your left eye
open.. then close..
Oh NO! Kirstin .. I saw your eye.. it closed.. then opened.. then closed.. bad as I
hate to say it.. you are out.. Lizzy don't look so smug.. your eye winked and blinked
and rolled around.. see .. there it goes again.. that sad little eye rolling in your
head.. you're still out..
Now we are ready.. I am ready for fun.. every body stretch.. stretch left.. reach..
reach and stretch right.. lift your left knee up.. squat.. kick.. Dance.. dance.. dance..
Silly me..it's no wonder no one danced.. Sometimes I almost catch myself being
silly.. what I should have said was.. Simon Says Dance!
I was in a bad place
Felt no reason to give thanks
In past years
And as I reminisce, my best memories
I had here
As I let go of the pain from last year
I know I have cried my last tear
No longer afraid of my reflex ion
I have conquered my last fear
I’m thankful that the journey I started led me here
Allow me a moment to catch my breath
Because I am so thankful for this air
That expands my lungs
And turns these flow of words into songs
As these thoughts dance off my tongue
And my hand, this pad, this pen blends into one
I am thankful to reach this state of clarity
And apparently
Even when I was cold, and alone I had this security
Purity
The heavenly father stayed there with me
But as I sit amongst you all
Most of all
I’m thankful yawl chose to share this meal with me
The Stray Cats
They come every morning,
And wait by the kitchen door.
When I walk past them to the boutique,
They follow me down the road.
When they brush their tails
Against my foot,
I carry them into my house.
They like the way I give them food:
One for each in five little bowls!
And they love me: I know for sure
But if they come in the night
To sit under my window and yawl;
I just pick up my broom
And shoo them off.
08/10/2018 (MM/DD/YYYY)
I love the sound of it;
whether near enough to rattle
bones or far and faint,
my ears billow as chill bumps
staccato dance down my spine.
At the lonely yawl, imagination stirs,
emotions flood, surroundings shift.
In an instant, I am transported
into an unknown zone.
Though we travel far above it
on silver wings
or beside it on rubber wheels,
my heart races as hot metal
glides over iron rails
and the train whistle blows.
It speaks to my deepest longings.
i don't mean to come hard, but that's my dog, last night-drunk as a skunk at the local bar, they hollered, let's take him home he live right down the street..um like oh no yawl, where's my dog, at the house my dog is looking at me like, take yo drunk self to bed . that morning i am awakened by a loud woof-woof at my door and a loud ka-plunk of his dog pan dropping on the floor and i know what this is for.. i want some mo sleep, but that's mah dawg yawl.