We laud the sports G. O. A. T. ‘s,
the “Greatest of all Time” who please
us fans with their skills.
We crave those great thrills.
Each chance to support them, we seize.
Of special goats, you might have heard,
deemed royal by King Charles the III.
This rare golden breed
is regal indeed.
Last month this bestowal occurred.
the press of the crowd
reset trouser creases
glad-handing, back slaps
he almost kissed a baby!
compared to a county fair
guernsey cows, who cares…
cloth diapers attack the nose
NYC’s homeless, anything goes
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, 2008, Mary Ann Shaffer
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society
Letters, like potato peel pies, feed souls through wartime's occupation ~
Off to Starbucks for my spot of Teavana Earl Grey Tea
I am Blessed! Princess Rebecca this morning, I do see
A quick gaze at her, oh my she looks even more sexy
In The Kingdom By The Sea, My Pretty Becky
I dream of sailing with her off the Shore of Jersey
We cruising with no destination, maybe Guernsey
We live a life of no worries and all carefree
In The Kingdom By The Sea, My Pretty Becky
I sit inside and sip my spot of tea
Reading the Times, thinking of My Becky
She too busy this morning to even gaze back at me
In The Kingdom By The Sea, My Pretty Becky
I dream one day we meet, I do foresee
I hope all goes well, a heavenly wish for me
A six foot tall Slavic princess, oh so slender and pretty
In The Kingdom By The Sea, My Pretty Becky
I still too nervous to say hello, I am so nerdy
Should I stop dreaming of what may be too good for me
Almost done sipping my daily Teavana Tea
In The Kingdom By The Sea, My Pretty Becky
I go back to street to jog back home, so fit is me
I feel sad lacking My Destiny Girl; feel so empty
I dream New Year's Eve with her at NYC's Marriott Marquis
In The Kingdom By The Sea, My Pretty Becky
Three times a day
a train roars through
a field a farm away
booming like an Angus bull
looking for companionship.
Nearby in Henson's field
Guernsey cows eat their grass
behind a redwood fence
and moo in blissful peace.
They’ve heard this bull before.
No need to raise their heads.
He can’t come through that fence.
Donal Mahoney
Ever Since
Forever, I loved my mother and father
They never complained or tried to bother
But soon found out I was spoiled rotten
So they stuffed each ear with cotton.
Even though she truly was a terrible three
My sister had always been as bad as me
We would pick a daisy and were lazy
And did drive our patient parents crazy.
Somehow we had raised so much static
Hair stood on end and we became erratic
Like loser poets thinking that they can
Give poem brush off then use dust pan.
After each perturbing poem was collected
And like a puzzle pieces tightly connected
Results had become a horrible aftermath
Poets poured water then they took a bath.
Each poem was brainwashed from his mind
Had a great, bright idea and he bee-lined
To you and up poems made others tense
And Soup hasn't heard from me ever since.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran and Poet
We leave at eight PM tonight from Raleigh for
London. Can hardly wait. We are sure that the
Royal Princess cruise will be something else out
of South Hampton to Guernsey, Ireland, Scotland
and Normandy and return. This might be one of
my last poems for a while.
Lost Helicopter Finally Found
There is this so sad thing we must admit
One of our helicopters into hillside had hit
And all lost their lives who were within
We pray this will never happen again.
Many emotions are at an all-time low
As all of our tears started to overflow
For pilot and passengers no longer here
We held in our arms and to us were dear.
God keep them safe and secure in heaven above
Also give each precious one all of our love
And even though this happened still yet
Regret this happened and will never forget.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran and Poet
Leaving this Sunday for London and a cruise
on Royal Princess out of South Hampton to
Guernsey, Ireland, Scotland, Normandy and
return. Forgive me for not writing more poems.
Someday Soon I Hope
Seems like so often I am in doubt
Where should story start and be about
After having been in a state of depression
I honestly want to hear your suggestion.
Should a trip to Guernsey to try to take
Where a Potato Peel Pie they often back
Have done it for everyone and society
And are known for all of their notoriety.
Permission to write this I now ask
So someday soon can complete the task
To Guernsey will go on a sailing ship
Arriving there requires a long trip.
From America is where we will first start
Later on Princess Lines from port will part
Every British Isle by us, we will visit
Guernsey's the one that is very exquisite.
On Cruise Critic many people we will contact
To draw from them their opinion and each fact
Where best places will be to take a tour
Being they're great cruisers and know for sure.
How happy my wife and me will be
As soon as we set sail out to sea
In each day a delight we are sure to find
And so look forward to all the peace of mind.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran
Our Each Cat
After having gone on a great journey
And then eventually would return we
Wanted to return to Guernsey again
Which is what we always did intend.
Everything was beautiful as can be
With cliffs in background began to see
While we looked at a four leaf clover
Had hoped no one would push us over.
With next door neighbors wished we could go
But to there budget would be a big blow
Into comfortable clothes we soon did slip
And by ourselves had to go on the trip.
Many memories there had been made
And into past all have started to fade
What we would wish now is only that
With us, we had brought our each cat.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran
Book About Guernsey Isle
She was an excellent editor and explorer
Which is why we always will adore her
Going through books and then editing
After that to all authors properly crediting.
She had gone to Guernsey Isle one day
To see all of the many books on display
Several were about historical events
And German Occupation making no sense.
It was a lost cause from the beginning
Being so boisterous and always sinning
Each party continues on and never stops
Drinking much beer made out of hops.
Only thing considered to be contagious
Was Guernsey people being courageous
Putting up with each and every party
And Germans being healthy and hardy.
All the days are now over and done
Glad by Germans war was not won
Last thing they did was to rehearse
What must be done when you disperse.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran
Inspired by reading the book
"The Guernsey Literary and
Potato Peel Pie Society" by
Mary Ann Shaffer and
Annie Barrows.
I can't believe what I heard on the automobile radio the other day!
'Tis further proof that nuts are on the loose and the world is in disarray!
European environmentalists, among others, who, mighty weird things espouse,
Are proposing, and I kid you not, a flatulence tax on every farmer's cows!
They claim flatulence by those innocent creatures pollute the air we breathe!
I don't know whether to laugh or cry, but this I know, it makes me seethe!
Imagine if you will the reams of records that over-burdened farmers must keep,
On each Black Angus, Jersey and Guernsey cow as well as goats and sheep!
Humankind is also prone to this curse, a subject upon which I dare not dwell,
But I really fear that politicians may impose a flatulence tax on us as well!
Lord have mercy! Let's hope and pray that the IRS doesn't get "wind" of this!
You could be jailed for not paying such a tax if they would find that you're remiss!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
The Old Man and the Seine
For the legendary George Whitman
(1912 – December 13, 2011)
King George peered out of the oval of the hollow mile
And caught the Hunchback ogling Gina Lollobrigida;
Victor Hugo sat engrossed in his séance at Guernsey Isle
Feigning he would hold back the Cervantes Armada;
So witty Ol’ Walt sat on the lip of Notre Dame bridge
Scuffing overgrown grass with his heels in the Seine
But his beard got caught in Quijote’s wordy porridge:
That’s why they say he set up shop in Butcher’s Lane.
The Master of Ol’ Vic took exception to this affront
And shook his spear such that it stirred a tsunami
From the Thames down the Chunnel to the front
Of Tumbleweed Hotel’s Shakespeare & Company.
Now you know why King George kept his window shut
All through the century keeping no eye even half shut.
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris. From the collection: Poems Omega Plus, 2005; rev. 2012.