Back when sex was dirty
and the water was clean
Two plus two equaled four
and things were what they seemed
Back when men were men
and women would swoon
Each day a new promise
— fulfilled at high noon
(The New Room: August, 2026)
Do or die got to perform in the eye of the storm
Noise from the boys remember we did deport
Another loss 3 nought a new boss will be sought
The depravity of gravity the reality of this sport
Big Ben’s men finally hold court our Last Resort
Insult beaten twice has the Bazball loon cult lost its spice
Starc’s legend hewn from chumps stumps in clumps strewn
Shredded in the dreaded Ashes vice Last Throw of the Dice
Bogged down in a twit pit will be flogged if we just slog
Stokes spoke about going for broke showing a bit of dog
Aussie boon.. Over the Moon In the Clover lagoon
The Barmy Army will still croon their afternoon tune
As another buffoon’s marooned OZ media swoon
Sucking on their silver spoon our Last Chance Saloon
Last ditch on the pitch must bewitch this is High Noon
.
it rain'd last night
wet
soak'd
this a.m.
thuh mist
ankle thick
in thuh
diaphanous frock
she picks pine needles
from mine toddler spruce
for
tea
for
me
see
Scrambling through gritstone and shale,
pushing up out of myself
to where wind-tusked moors
trowel the sky.
Tall limestone stones,
rounded by the wheels of the wind,
pile atop each other into a curved nudity.
Nothing else here
but the low brow beating wind
where the plateau ends in a stark
nakedness.
I cannot stay, scoured to the bone
pinned down as I am.
I must return to tell someone
that when we have crossed a line
we did not see,
or yesterday knew nothing of,
then we should bite our tongue,
and silently appreciate
the plump village barmaid
who now serves
a warm beer.
So
soothing,
the moisture;
Cooling my core
I’m in a state of
bright ataraxia;
A barricade for brittle,
fragile skin is now protected;
If only your touch contained aloe,
instead of the high noon rays that fry me.
Palindrome Limerick:
High "Noon"
A gun duel set for high "noon"
A noisy crowd gathers round soon
See Dead-"Eye" "level" his gun
Against the quick, evil "Nun"
Then the "pop" gun went, Ka-boom!
It’s high noon in Armadillo Texas Sheriff cat announced in her way.
Her sidekick, Deputy Mouse Whiskers smiled and decided to stay.
They strapped on cowboy hats, holsters, belt buckles and a gun.
It was 1959, when outlaws were arrested, and TV westerns were fun.
This classic Western, stars Gary Cooper as Will Kane, a newly married man whose wife is a Quaker pacifist. The murderer-outlaw is coming into town at noon to kill his nemesis.
High Noon
/////ll\\\\\\
The whistle of the train, threats coming soon.
Kane’s courage off the track on honeymoon.
The church, filled with chickens.
Kane’s alone - plot thickens.
Outlaw avoided noose, now dies, at noon.
5/7/2022
High Noon
Sponsor: Joseph May
10/10/6/6/10
HMS and Rhymezone
Which Cowboy bites dust tomorrow at noon,
Fighting duel to end, to death the tune,
The sun at noon shows no glare,
Bystanders, time of day fair,
Outside the saloon, a hot day in June.
Poetry Competition Entry: HIGH NOON POETRY CONTEST
Sponsor: Joseph May
Date: 07/05/2022
There was an old cowboy named Stumpy
Who's laugh sounded just like a donkey
He smelled like a skunk
High noon he'd get drunk
And then with the ladies got frisky
Cowboys facing off, feet spread wide
One thing in mind, shoot his raw hide
Blast rips, so it seems
Oh no ! freakin' beans
Now all showdowns, are aired outside
High Noon Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
How many syllables 8/8/5/5/8
04/05/22
A washed-up Bank robber named Big Dale
Tried to rob bank, near county of vale
He didn’t move as quick
Got hit with a stick
Lawman got word, closed fast on his trail
05/03/2022
Contest: High Noon
Sponsor: Joseph May
Gary Cooper cocked his gun
And pointed it at everyone
He aimed to shoot Frank Miller
A cowboy and a would-be killer
Of Amy, Gary Cooper's loved one.
3 May 2022
The western days said hang them at noon Why not morning or night by the moon Did wrong you were put in jail You had no e-mail Jail life was bad~you wanted out soon.
Date Written: 5/2/0222
A town marshal at high noon, a sinner,
Sat alone for a spaghetti dinner.
Gang of outlaws' rode to town,
Marshal, they want to gun down.
Bullets don't bicker, wind up a winner.
5/1/2022
High Noon Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Sub Categories
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