Long Good by Poems
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I remember when YOU were little
On the newspaper YOU did piddle
Puppy, Nicky-Nic could do it all
He would fetch a stick or catch a ball
I remember with a voice command
You would roll over, speak, sit or stand
YOU were by my side at work or play
My faithful companion, night and day
Swimming in the cool, clear mountain lakes
Romping through the snow, catching snowflakes
Springtime garden, Nick would till the ground
Jumping in the leave's multi-hued mound
My companion for eleven years
For my best friend, I shed many tears
Good-by Nicky-Nic Until again we meet
When I find solace, YOU laying at my feet
Dedicated To my Puppy " NICKY-NIC "
Author’s note : This is formatted from the Original POEM
NICKY-NIC For Danielle White’s Animal Companion Contest
December 24 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on 2John - Jude
Key Verse – 2John 1:3 Grace be with you, mercy, and peace, from God the Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of the Father, in truth and love.
PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR HIS GRACE
Praise be to God for His grace, indeed:
Giving us His goodness
Granting us His greeting’s glow
Guiding us by His grip of great gear
Guarding us against grievous greediness
Governing us toward growth along His grip
3John 1:11 Praise be to the Lord for
teaching us to do good by His:
Wisdom despite worrisome weakness
Word midst welcoming weariness
Work against worldliness’ wishes
Ways beyond willful wickedness
Will around worthy wellness
Jude 1:1 Praise be to the Saviour for
sanctifying us toward:
Dedicated discipleship through His doctrine
Directed dependence by His design
Determined diligence in His duty
Devoted desires by His driving
Delighted destination. Amen!
December 24, 2024
Well I sent off the money
Kissed those Presidents "Good BY"
With this poem I have penned
Hell Bent, to win the prize
They said it'd take some time
As far as judging goes
I needn't now reply
Cause they would let me know
I was quick to reach their deadline
Within a day or two
But as for getting back to me
There was nothing I could do
Now months have come, and slipped away
And nary not a word
Even if by chance 'I lost'
You think I would have heard
So now I sit and wonder
Just where'd my money go
Perhaps it's at a pristine beach
On the coast of Mexico
Or may it's in India
Buying Modak, that'd be funny
Or even in Nigeria
To purchase wine that made from honey
All I know, is what I've learn
That these Contest are a ruse
And never give-up Presidents
For the sacred right to lose
Tussled hair, bruised knees, toothless, lop-sided grin;
Ma is so thankful her dear little imp wasn't born a twin!
She likes things running smoothly, like a finely-tuned violin,
But her little boy marches to his own drum, much to her chagrin!
To begin the day he feeds his breakfast oatmeal to the dog.
Opening a drawer, Ma lets out a screech, finding a slimy frog!
He encourages a fight between Rusty the dog and Simba the cat,
And 'round and 'round they go, in raucous heated combat!
The preacher made his periodic call and settled in his seat.
A whoopee cushion made a lewd noise, startling him to his feet!
He mumbled a hasty good-by, and headed for the door,
As the little imp, choking with laughter, rolled upon the floor!
Ma made treats for her bridge club, saying they were not his fare,
But on bridge day, lo and behold, she found the cupboard bare!
He pestered his little sister unmercifully with never any slack!
"Mommy", she screamed, "he put a slimy worm down my back!"
Tho' he drives his long-suffering mother up the wall,
She wouldn't trade him for any other little boy at all.
After his prayers at bedtime and seeing his sweet, angelic smile,
Ma plops in her chair seeking repose from another daily trial!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
In my mind I knew that cool day in September you were torn.
When I saw you drive away I was shocked, not believing it.
I did not realize fully that this might be our last good by
In my heart I thought you’d be back, because of our love.
Were the tears in your eyes for what we once had?
Or for the forever after you had promised me at the altar?
Maybe you knew that leaving us for her was a mistake?
Were you feeling regret that you had ripped out my heart?
I cannot stop loving you; will not. Shall not. Will love you forever.
Like I promised.
Like I thought you had promised.
I am sending you love now.
I hope that you tell her every day that you love her,
I hope that you can you give her what you could not give me,
and that it can be forever.
For your sake.
Because I love you.
The 100 Year War
I rise
Mighty and strong
Armor plated and ready for battle
I shall behead the infidel
I shall conquer the evil doers
I am a warrior
Both great and bad
I am a warrior, and
I am sad
Tears fall upon my sword
I know not why
This great warrior why do I cry?
I can battle an army and rise the victor
Yet I can not rise out of me bed
I am sad and lethargic
I am weak in the knee
I am depressed
To much sadness in me
Lovers a plenty
Conquered lands and treasures
I have it all
Yet the sadness invades
The depths of me soul
I give my heart to all that I love
I feed the poor
From the spoils of my wars
Yet here I am, I think a kind soul
Burdened in darkness
Depression is my hole
My love I know this seems bizarre
You have all you wish, a rising star
A Black Knight with honors flying high
To you I say forgive me please
For battles you never shall see
I lie down
In our garden of roses
Thorns to make me feel more than I do
For the darkness robs us both
For me to feel you
Good by my love
Notes: Anyone for has suffered depression, knows that a 100 year war is nothing compared to battling depression.
Justice has failed many I know
For you and I there is little to show.
You see, figures are not made from these times
Government bodies care about the crimes
Promotion is made on ‘helping’ those who dare
Endless resources pumped in to show ‘we care’
Youth intervention, counselling and a final warning
All this goes on until the day is dawning
Higher salaries are not for helping the innocent
A quick call will do, doesn’t that seams a little bit bent?
We are the ones who have had the raw deal
We would never hurt, damage or steal
It seams to me the more honest you are
Justice cares less and I find that bizarre.
Governments look good by how many criminals they catch
Then they will always come out with out a scratch
As always there is no money to be made in the cure
Solving problems and reinventing new, that’s for sure
Moral obligations and responsibility dissolve like salt
Always someone else to blame, but never their fault.
To say crime never pays is a phrase I want to believe
I suppose its what the individual wants to perceive
Punishment to fit the crime, that would be nice
However, there is more logic in just rolling the dice.
Watching the world go through the motions
So many different notions
Running through the mind
So many of us feel left behind
Trying to survive on what we find
Which is not much
The leaders seem out of touch
Through the lips of a news host
Unsure on who to toast
Or maybe who should they roast
We all matter, they cry
We try
Kissing our money good by
Who are we to believe
We are looking for some relief
But all we can do is grieve
We the people of the real everyday
We are the ones that live in the political gray
Over looked by the blind eye
Struggling to get by
Searching for our own dream
So out of reach it does seem
Give us a break
So much of us the world does take
We spend our life
Held down by this strife
Trying so hard to fly
But barely getting by
Forgotten while you live
Asking for more than you can give
All designed to keep you down
It is in the paperwork we drown
Following some clown
Who does nothing for those in need
We are just here to breed
Giving them future voters to ignore
The zombies voting on the floor
Need tossed out the door
Give us a voice
Give us a choice
The a chance to live
A simple gift to give
I believe that when one does die
That if in life we really did try
Maybe then, we will finally get our chance to fly
Cherries are delish
On top of a Banana Split
Topping on a Sundae center of whipped cream
Straight from the jar a tasty treat
They are so good by the pound
Fresh from the grocer
Get a bowl and bite around the pit
Or made into a jam_lickety split
But all those cherries have their pit
A lot like life
There's lot of good
But always some strife
We learn the best lessons
When we're in the pits
Somewhat like we get bowl of cherries but soon only have pits
But wasn't the good part wonderful
(Thoughts came on this one after remembering the line
"If life is a bowl of cherries, why am I in the pits"..
I think that Erma Bombeck said that but not sure..
Just not my line orginally.)
Perhaps like a lightning
bolt of clear out of the blue
rigor mortis (tenon and
three decades hence)
two thousand fifty nine if you
count from January 13th 2019, adieu
attest that day 9 months I did brew
in wound (of the late Harriet Harris),
now finds me loved ones
crying boo hoo,
after this stiff mortal
Earthling bid toodle loo
with symbolic casket
(carrying cremated urn of ashes)
remembrance attended
by gentile and Jew
sharing positive memories purportedly
about this nondescript
fellow they knew
mainly indirectly, poignantly,
and wickedly shot thru
with his insightful humorous scribblings,
plus magnus opus titled
"How do ye do,"
an informal rambling missive bereft
of any subject and
devoid with little clue,
the purpose of said hefty tome
out weighing The Federalist circa: knew
lee after American independence
Papers, written by true
purrs under the pseudonym "Publius"
but great (as a great doorstop), or
alight as tinder for barbeque
since many admirers never
read his text written in Hebrew,
fluency acquired spending
final years he grew
old, since automatic citizenship
granted based on genetic goo
plus Mediterranean climate helped promote
longevity to century his health did hew
thus naturally pronounced philosophy,
where he drew
quite a wide web asper the many
claims Matthew Scott did eschew
to maintain longevity (more
quackery than science), but who
could dispute glorious
principles, not to poo poo
analogous to placebo effect
harmless fervent coping methods,
whether to cure ague
interestingly enough he cited ack hue
puncture for a gamut of physical ills
as well he did advocate chew
wing food (after taking small bites)
until mouthful became pulpy slew
(proponent of Fletcherism), this to
exercise dentures in addition
to maximize stew
pen diss experience of simple
routine eating view
wing thoroughly good (by George)
said quotidian activity grew
tubby spiritual, similarly basic
functions in general did get skew
ward whereby meditation on intrinsic,
metabolic and scholastic
processes to name a few
added a dimension of enhancement prior to
exiting life into frontier mortals can only rue.