Feel as tho' I'm going to the dogs
it's almost time to pop my clogs
kick the bucket chuck it in
call it a day take a spin
and shuffle off this mortal coil
be released from worldly troubles and toil
buy the farm and bite the dust
or cash in my chips if I must
when D-Day dawns (it's not that far)
a big bang send-off will be my last hurrah
but it's no joke
as should I croak
who will miss me
when I'm long-gone
for no matter where on earth I am
I don't fit in I don't belong
oh well easy come easy go
whether up in smoke or down below
In my life I may as they say
have accomplished a thing or two
but I've not made the mark
I so dearly wished to do
altho' having trod the boards
where mighty giants once stood
the rug was always pulled out
in many a good neighbourhood
never had it made in the shade
fame and fortune eluded me
a one-man band on parade
anonymity included me
sailing off into the sunset
is not quite the right thing to do
nor is going down with the ship
in the yonder wild blue
and yet if my get up and go
has not got up and gone
I'd like once more to bring it on
before fading away into oblivion
a red-orange golden glow
covers faded summer leaves-
autumn's magic brush
autumn artistry
Monet landscapes every day-
last hurrah before snow falls
their bright shawls carpet the ground-
winter, standing by-
before long, tree limbs are bare
December 9, 2022
Contest: Triple New Charlieku Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Charles Messina
Non-Traditional Haiku
Syllables Used: 7-7-5, 5-7-7, 7-5-7
A SOLDIER’S LAST HURRAH
By
Robert E. Welch, Sr.
November 7, 2020
He was sitting at the table,
His coffee in his hand.
Not caring where he was,
This sad and lonely man.
The years that he had lived
Totaled ninety-nine and one
His memory was going
Of days when he begun.
He fought the war in Germany
With medals on his chest.
Then came home to family
Who said he was the best.
Now he sits alone at home
With none to share his fame.
Often asking for his friends
Though none had ever came.
Then a young boy came along
To hear the tales of glory.
The old man closed his teary eyes
And began to tell his story.
He passed away that very day
To walk the streets of gold.
Saying “Thank you, Lord, this last hurrah,
My one last story told.”
Like Ken, ever on his last sail -
a soul slipper asway on gales …
Some loves shall lead these ending days
Tapering the winding display ~
High mountain air before lungs crush
Umpteen stars to drink ‘fore eyes hush
Rivers cold to shiver the numb
Rivers bold will quiver to dumb
Away, away, this last hurray
Hie now to float the scented way ~
(8/29/20: '96 Sea Ray Express Cruiser 400; DMS)
Summer is ending; we can feel it
But we pretend we cannot
Slater our corn-on-the-cob with butter
Cutting generous slabs of watermelon
Ignoring the Back-to-School sales flyers stacking up in our box
July is the last hurrah.
The month we celebrate as wildly as we can
Knowing reality will soon set in
And school will begin
Because August is peeking her head in July's window.
A worthy cause
‘gainst daunting odds
A chance to set the world aright
Truths to be told
With hero bold
To champion a noble fight
‘tis all I ask
A final task
And while I still have beating heart
For win or lose
To fight I choose
For then I’ll know … I did my part
Cars line the curb - last hurrahs,
the last of pseudo praises,
or as Mom would say in the midst of a eulogy
"Do I know this person"?
Praises never thought of
while life strode so proudly blind.
As the bumble bounces on the hydrangea,
sadly, other blossoms are forgotten
while the most proud was overappreciated.
How many days/years until
my blossom is forgotten - left to pink
and wither in winter's shadow
then pale and blown away
before spring knows it's missing
...or even cares.
I'd much rather a fist raised in anger
and celebration "The bastard's finally dead!"
- Not a whisper when parting,
"You got a tee time for Monday?"
The cars line the curb, yet will they leave
simply thankful they came "for the family"
or will they give a damn … pause and say
"I will miss him".
last hurrah
for the school of fish
a bowl for two
04.19.18
1st place
"Fish" themed
hosted by M. Talbot
Lots of little moths are flitting
Near the bushes and the trees,
Such a frenzied sort of flutter,
They might stir a little breeze.
Some are solo, but more likely,
Most are traveling in groups,
Do-si-do-ing through the flora,
Doing crazy loop-di-loops.
In some spots, they’re like confetti
Which the wind has set a’whirl.
Guess their instincts have informed them
They’ve just time for one more twirl.
.
Woe is the me
if I without supplication
inflict mine want
Such hern easy lift
she is the petite figure
of
mine last hurrah
No petty kiss from
this secrete self
‘pon her thankful breast
only gasp as her press
found hern goal
I was smitten by her sudor
Like hot oil
hern did glaze the me
and I without the wavering
forgot
mine last hurrah
pilfering raccoons
raiding cornfields and orchards
laughing at farmers
Indian summer picnicking
Last hurrah before winter
Sunset on the beach
My shadow stretches out to
Grasp the last daylight
LAST HURRAH OF THE MELTING SNOWHEAPS
Glisten you snow heaps.
Coruscate your last
In this sun.
For listen - you show
Signs of fading fast.
The sun which now magnifies your import
Will tomorrow bleed you to nothing:
And you will be an ill-recalled memory
In the far off sunny days of spring
………………………………………………………………………………
NOTE
Ever watched a melting snow heap
draining its life in rivulets of jewels like liquid diamonds?
I'M FEED UP FIGHTING BATTLES....
THEY HAPPEN EVERYDAY.....
THE WINNING'S TAKING ALL MY STRENGTH....
THE YEARS ARE SO UNBENDING....
MY NERVES ARE SHOT TO BITS....
THERE'S ALWAYS SOMEONE OUT THERE..
WHO WANT'S TO TAKE YOU ON...
I'M LIKE A VETERAN BOXER HANGING ON THE ROPES...
EVERY PUNCH IS TELLING...
MY BODIES BLACK AND BLUE....
I TELL MYSELF I HAVE TO STOP...
BUT DEEP INSIDE I CAN'T...
THE HEART IS STRONG THE BODY WEAK...
THE BLOWS HAVE BEEN SO HEAVY....
I'M OFF TO FIND A QUIET PLACE...
SOME REST..
SOME PEACE OF MIND....
TODAY I HAVE NO FIGHT THE TIME HAS
FINALLY COME...
I CLOSE MY EYES AND SAY GOODBYE...
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