I am me
born in 1974
grew up in a small town
branched out into Big City Orlando
lived on the wild side
explored the Hoosier State
settled back into small town Ohio
lived, laughed loved my life
cherished times with family and friends
met some amazing people
who have been a big influence in my life
hoping to accomplish more
in this life
Categories:
hoosier, life,
Form: Free verse
A weird old woman loved cats
And outlandish broad-rimmed hats
Why should we think it odd
The old dame is quite mod,
Why she even dines with her bats.
written, Winter 1972
edited June 29, 2021
[first published in The Hoosier Challenger, 1972;
republished in By-Line, Summer, 1989]
Categories:
hoosier, humor,
Form: Limerick
Said a man returned from the moon
“I fear I have come back too soon,
For I left about seven
On my journey to heaven
And here it is now only noon.”
written, Winter 1972
edited June 29, 2021
[first published in The Hoosier Challenger, 1972;
republished in ByLine, Summer, 1989]
Categories:
hoosier, earth, moon, space, travel,
Form: Limerick
Unruly rabble demolished statues of General Robert Lee.
Now, the politically correct clique is a-comin' after me!
My name is Robert Lee as well and 'twas so inopportune,
That I be associated with the General, my name to so impugn!
The mob wants to eradicate anything to do with General Lee,
Includin' his namesake little old insignificant me!
Besides all of that I'm a Yankee born in the Hoosier state,
And had nothin' to do with the Rebel Cause I'm happy to relate!
So any of you fellers named Stonewall Jackson or John Bell Hood,
Hunker down 'cause a request to change yer name is a likelihood!
Robert Lee (Hinshaw)
Categories:
hoosier, humorous,
Form: Rhyme
Dark fingers rained a thousand captured chords
Ranging like restless fireflies under glass
Gathered notes in freakish trilling hordes
Offering the Danse Macabre pass.
Sensuous and delicate on the keys
Before the great unmoving cause
So arranged to haunt the sad demise
The pallor over pasted triplets falls.
Restive sighs are pierced by plunging swords
Of dissonance, the soul cannot appease
His thunderous triumph, ovation soon affords
The master well-deserved, if outlandish, fees.
["Rave Notice" first appeared in The Hoosier Challenger, 1968; written c. 1967, it was reprinted in The Lady in the Pink Hat, Candor Press, 1969.]
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Brian Strand's "All Yours" Contest
Poetry Soup - April 9, 2021
Categories:
hoosier, music, passion,
Form: Rhyme
Clyde Pucelli was known as The Rembrandt of The Great Midwest!
He was an itinerant painter, esteemed as one of the best!
With his brushes and well-blended oils he'd render a masterpiece;
His fame spread since he specialized in hues of white and cerise.
He traveled in an old shay with his faithful horse Dan at the helm,
Brightening the households of Hoosier Land, Clyde's singular realm.
It took a couple of days to complete a painting then he'd move on,
Leaving folks to marvel at his handiwork long after he was gone!
You'd be surprised to learn he didn't do oils to display on a wall;
No, he painted ramshackle barns, outhouses and sheds, that's all!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Categories:
hoosier, art, humorous,
Form: Rhyme
Many are the memories of Hoosier farm life as a lad that I recall.
One was what Dad called 'hog renderin' that occurred every fall.
When he proclaimed the old boar had reached his maximum weight,
That meant for sure that the old feller was soon to meet his fate!.
After Dad did him in, puttin' an end to his squeals,
He was hoisted by block and tackle and strung up by his heels.
Dad wielded his butchers' knife with the deftness of a surgeon's hand,
Carvin' out loins, hams and bacon from our late-departed friend!
Curin' bacon was Dad's specialty in which he took great pride.
He performed secret incantations which he never would confide.
Massagin', injectin' stuff and smokin' them again and again,
To ensure they were suitable for Mom's iron skillet fryin' pan!
After milkin' the cows and sloppin' the hogs at the break of dawn,
I could smell the bacon sizzlin' in the skillet as I walked across the lawn!
Enterin' the house the aroma of the bacon wafted about the place.
Even Dad was so anxious to dine that he waived the prayin' of grace!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Categories:
hoosier, dad, food, humorous,
Form: Rhyme
When I was just a wee farm lad growin' up in Hoosier land,
There were many things about farm life I didn't quite understand!
One day I saw a neighbor leadin' a big bull down the gravel road.
I asked my dear old Pa about that and this is what I was told.
"Son, he's takin' that mean old bull to "service" a neighbor's cow."
The implications of that went over my tousled head then, but now,
I associate it with the "service" we git when dealin' with the IRS!
(Don't you think I handled a very delicate matter with a modicum of finesse!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Categories:
hoosier, farm, humor,
Form: Couplet
Oft' my thoughts drift back through the mists of time,
To my childhood and my humble Indiana home,
Those blissful days of youth so carefree and sublime!
My memories of those blithesome days would fill a tome!
When I hear, "On the Banks of the Wabash, Far away",
Along its slopin' banks I can see the towerin' sycamores,
Dancin' in the breeze on a languid Hoosier summer's day,
And I see a boy with willow pole catchin' catfish by the scores!
The Wabash flows silently through the verdant Indiana plain,
Meanderin' through forests and many a sleepy Hoosier town.
How I pine to return to the soil of my birth once again,
To be that barefoot boy amblin' to the Wabash a-fishin' boun'!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. l in Barbara Gorelick's "A River Runs Through It" Contest - Jul 2011
Categories:
hoosier, childhood, places
Form: Quatrain