Of the many things that I like I could go on ad infinitum,
But it would take reams of paper should I list every item!
So I'll confine myself to ten or so things that I like best,
And at some other time I'll bore you with the rest!
I like inscrutable cats and crispy onion rings,
And light classical music featuring melodic strings.
Although some persnickety folks may have their doubts,
Fiddle faddle! I happen to like Brussels sprouts!
I like folks who practice The Golden Rule.
I just happen to like my spouse - she's a real jewel!
I like juicy beefsteak termaters fresh from the vine.
I savor Beringer's White Zinfandel for my taste in wine!
I like concocting poetry though a Shakespeare I'll never be.
I like autumn when crimson and gold cloak every tree!
I could write of pickles and Snickers Bars but I'm limited to ten,
So I must meticulously edit this "masterpiece" and set aside my pen!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 5 in Joe Flach's "Top Ten" Contest - July 2010
On an cool Autumn night,
Eerie and full of dread.
...not fear...but locks.
Darkness is embraced by light,
Peace stirs in the midnight wind,
...not a calm...but a gesture of his hand.
Simple and sweet...a mystery hides
Behind the pleasant mood.
...not a state of mind...but the smile on his face.
With a skull peering over his shoulder,
Silent growls begin to grrr.
...not growls of a wolf...but his hunger of sweets.
The mood begins to fade,
As a black bird paused in flight,
...not in the air...but on his shirt.
Sets the tone for the night,
As he dresses up for Halloween,
...he’s not Bob Marley...he’s Rasta Ruben.
__________________________________
For Carols Browns “Funny Spooks” contest
My reference material is in my blog photos...
Pastor Allbright
- a man the community knew as
a pious man
diddled his niece
under the Thanksgiving table
testing her leg with his
salad fork
and inching his
bulbous thumb
across her thigh.
Slipped out back
through the screened porch
out of sight of the family
lit a smoke
and stepped into the
starry, autumn night.
A sixty pound ball
of frozen waste
- a blue ball of doom
dislodged from the belly
of a passing airliner
struck the pastor square
in the center of his baldpate
killing him instantly
his cigarette still
burning in his mouth
as he lay across the
kid's red wagon,
not to be found
until everyone
had their pie
and
coffee.
The autumn leaves fell from amber skies
And the wind it blew from a mystical place.
But when I spit to the ground; the wind blew it around;
And now it hangs here in my face.
We walked through the garden of roses and daisies;
Reeling in the luster of loves after glow;
When she stooped down to smell; not everything went well;
The daisy smelled like dung but perhaps you know.
In a rainstorm together we walked; singing love songs to each other;
One day I confessed my love; she said I feel the same as you
But a car came along; now my baby’s gone;
And I wound up with the flue
We did everything right; she was my lover with exquisite green eyes;
The way I cared for her made me wonder if I ever knew love before
And now what ever I do; I can’t forget her eyes
And THAT’S poetic justice; and there seems to be nothing more.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.