Long Hang around Poems
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I’m facing a challenge and I’m taking bets
That I can remember the names of my pets
There’s Tommy and Jonnie and Sally and Barry
The one over there I believe might be Harry
Tiddles and Wriggles and Bruno and Gerry
Never stray far from their bestest mate Terry
But Sue, Lou and Nancy, Alberto And Drew
Appear to be loners, a bit like Baloo
That crowd to one side hang around in a gang
But seem to be led by Mei Ling and Chang
Now, can I recall who the rest of them are
I’ll try but they all look the same from afar
Lee, James, Amanda, Frank, Annie and Les
Annabelle, Gilbert, Wilbert and Dez
Sonya, Sam, Lesley-Anne, Mary-Lou, Bess
Stephanie, Bethany, Cuthbert and Jess
Edward and Jedward, Samson and Ben
Zebedee, Gerry-Lee, Timothy, Jen
Josh, Tod and Spartacus, Abbie and Sid
Oliver, Gulliver, Billy the Kid
There’s Tyson and Dyson, and Eric and Jim
And Betty and Hetty, Jemima and Kim
I got them from someone who lives down the road
And carried them all to my humble abode
I needed no crate cos the breeder had bowls
He told me that’s how one should carry tadpoles
The time has come to end this life of mine,
The time has come to leave everything unimportant permanently behind.
All of my rescues will be cared for and comfortable, as promised to me,
by a true friend that I trust unquestionably.
The nest is now empty.
There is now only me.
"I can't believe that it's true," I thought in a state of disbelief.
"Have I died? Have I died finally?
Am I Now In Heaven?" I cried joyfully.
I left my apartment on the spot,
I didn't even bother to hang around and collect my deposit.
A friendly stranger approached me and engaged in superficial conversation,
and inevitably came to ask me, "Where are you from?"
"I have been waiting all of my life," I responded, "to say this to someone.
My place of residence is a box office where I receive all of my mail,
but my home is the endless wilderness trail,
awakening each morning to a brand new panoramic view,
observing all forms of foliage, landscapes and wildlife, both familiar and new,
falling asleep every evening under a galaxy of stars,
to the sounds of chirping crickets and croaking frogs,
and when the trail brings me close to a nearby town,
I might just step off the trail and hang around,
check into a motel, enjoy a restaurant meal,
resupply the next day, and then it's back into the field,
of rock climbs, stream crossings and finally, a decent camp site,
where once again under the stars I'll drift asleep for another night.
As the winter approaches my home in the northern region,
I'll hike my home trail south where the temperature is more comforting.
I am finally home everyone,
and from this day foward every day will be cause for celebration."
He looked at me as if confused,
not knowing how to respond or what to do,
then he looked away smiling,
muttering,
softly saying,
"Good for you."
He didn't understand, few often do,
nor do they understand such a nomadic lifestyle as one anyone would choose.
The only possible explanation,
that I could offer to anybody, is that I have none.
In order for you to understand this life choice of mine completely,
you would quite literally plain and simply have to be me.
How I pine for those carefree days when I was seventeen!
I weighed a mere hundred twenty pounds and was rather lean!
I thought I could mount an Arab steed and conquer the world!
Before me bold adventures beyond the horizon lay unfurled!
In my precarious youth I never dreamed of growing old.
I assumed I'd be seventeen forever, truth be told!
But suddenly in the blink of an eye I was thirty-five,
Then I reached fifty, so stealthily did it arrive!
I hardly turned around and suddenly I was sixty-five.
Grandson Zach exclaimed, "But Grandpa, you're still alive!"
A reward upon reaching that exalted rung of maturity,
Was that I became eligible for medicare and social security!
So quickly did I reach the age of seventy, a septuagenarian.
I might as well hang around and become an octogenarian!
Though I enjoy the privileges of the golden years, forsooth,
I'd much prefer the unpretentious days of my youth!
Oh, feckless youth, how hastily thou wast spent.
I clasped thee to my bosom and was so content.
But anon you abandoned me much too soon.
I really think that was so inopportune!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
It was nice to come in from the cold
I ordered my espresso
Sat in the corner by myself
Wanted to read and relax
A man then came and sat
At the table next to me
Uncomfortably close I thought
He took off some layers
Unpacked a bag
It crossed my mind
He may be homeless
He had that look about him
It’s not like I was about to ask
Or engage in conversation
I had not slept all night
Definitely not in any mood
To stir the morning air
It crossed my mind
That I could not imagine
With the oncoming of winter
Being without my home or family
I was no longer in the mood to
Leisurely hang around
I reached to put my coat on
And couldn’t help but notice
The big hole in his left boot
I gasped inside my head
As I nodded and
Gave him a warm smile
Too stunned to do or say anything
I think about him now and then
And how that hole is now
Imprinted in my heart
Read on air by invitation ~ July 7, 2021 'WORDS & MUSIC'
AP: Honorable Mention 2022, Honorable Mention 2021
Oh, I'm a Limmerjack and I'm okay
I sleep all night and I write all day
I write silly stuff, I fry my brain
I go to the lava-tree
On weekday's I get hammered
And write about thirty-three
I write pretty poems
I eat lotsa stuff
I goes to the lava-tree
On weekday's I get hammered
And write about thirty-three
CHORUS
I write silly stuff, I fry my brain
I like to pick wild flowers
I dress up in women's clothing
And hang around in showers
Oh, I'm a Limmerjack and I'm okay
I sleep all night and I write all day
© Jack Ellison 2015
(My apologies to Monty Python)
Form:
Pray For The Mistletoe
or
In My Church? Get “Outta” Here
By: Tom Wright
9/22/99
Some laity, crowd Churches,
affixing themselves to pews as Mistletoe to a tree.
Always there, but barely clinging to Spiritual life.
If fruit is borne, it is, as the Mistletoe's white berries --
small and poisonous.
As Mistletoe, they rely on others,
for the nourishment sought during this weekly feeding.
Let another preach, or teach, sing, and pray.
Being selfish, an appearance on their behalf,
is thought to be quite adequate.
During the week, as Mistletoe, they're content to "sort of hang around",
spiritually fasting until feeding time again.
While some, may quickly tire of the menu,
and feel "Led" to detach and find another Spiritual tree,
others remain, and watch their numbers grow.
Churches often become places for social gatherings,
and entertainment, rather than places to worship a risen Savior.
These churches become as Mistletoe inhabited trees in dead of winter,
cold, and frequently struggling to hold their own,
then later appearing void of any appreciable life.
Don't become a parasite in your Church,
stay active in your study, prayer, and stewardship.
Make daily quiet time to pray for your Pastor,
and oh yes, don't become as the Mistletoe!
There's no use in hanging on to something that's not yet real
So kiss me, baby, say goodbye; you know the way I feel
I'm not ready to settle down,but I know you'd like me to try
So don't keep clinging to me, girl, I'll only make you cry
It's true you have a heart of gold
And you'll give it to me, it would never be sold
That might be what I'm looking for
But just for now I need a whole lot more
Baby that's all I have to say
Except maybe I'll be back for you someday
But until that day don't hang your dreams on me
Some people would give their whole life to have what I've got with you
It may not be right but I'm leaving tonight, don't want to make you blue
Don't blame yourself, it's not your fault
You're everything a woman should be
But if I hang around, your world will fall
When the urge to leave starts pulling me.
When I was young, I heard my momma say,
come here my child and sit upon my knee.
This life is filled with many ups and downs,
but you can still be what you want to be.
I was just eighteen when my momma said,
son don’t you know you got to have a plan.
If you hang around this place all your life,
you will never grow up to be a man.
Don’t be afraid of what’s there in the end,
cause it’s the journey that’s worth living for.
The only way for you to get started,
is by taking that first step out the door.
She said, don’t you be uppity with folk,
but don’t let nobody push you around.
Best be humble when things are going good,
stay positive when things are looking down.
Don’t you be spreading hate and discontent,
among the naive and the innocent.
Never once have trust in the government,
because that’s the way evil always wins.
When a few good people band together,
lend a helping hand to one another.
Watching out for their sisters and brothers,
that’s how happy ever after begins.
I was thirty-five when my momma died,
they said that her illness could not be cured.
I was feeling as low as I could get,
and hated life and all that it stood for.
I had sunk down and was feeling sorry,
thinking that this life made no sense to me.
Until I recalled those words momma said,
while bouncing that baby boy on her knee.
I've got me a woman, a sweet lovin' woman
So, "Why", do you ask, "am I sayin' goodbye?"
A cowboy like me, has a hankerin' to be free..
Free to be roamin' under sweet prairie skies
every once in awhile,
Even tho' I'll be missin' her lovin' and kissin'
and the sight of her smile.
I saddled my horse, knowing of course
That she wants me to stay....
But I kissed her goodbye, saw the tears in her eyes
as I mounted my pony and trotted away
I knew she'd be grievin', because of my leavin'
But I gotta have space with walls closin' around me
I gotta get riding, where fences ain't binding.
As I ride dusty trails, I'll be hummin' a song
"The Red River Valley", or some others I've known
I'll play my guitar, harmonizing with birds
While the crickets at sundown, know all the words
Then night after night as I lay by my fire
After cooking up bacon, and some biscuits and beans
I'll think of my life, and my home and my woman
About my 'lil' darlin', and 'bout what love really means
I'll remember the good times, forgetting the bad times
I won't sleep 'cause the moonlight shines in my face
With coyotes a howlin', and the rocks in my bed roll
I'm tossin' and turnin', and for my woman I'm yearnin'
When I'm done with my roamin', ...well, then I'll be home bound
Back to my sweetheart, where you know I should be
I'll saddle my horse....knowing of course....
That I'll tell my sweet woman, I'll hang around this time....
Until that old fever gets me, and I'm scratchin' and itchin'
Then I'll catch up my pony, throw on my old bed roll
I'll head for the mountains, smell sage on the prairie
And I'll gallop through the valley of the thick chaparral
_________________________________________
Neverending street corner house behind the water hydrant,
hidden memories are long gone, few pictures around,
beautiful people, who has eaten their souls, the
house is lonely, but the dark mold still climbs its walls.
Turbulent past, many tried but they failed,
black mold comes back around, so little time.
Smell has overwhelmed the neighborhood,
hungry homeless dogs hang around, it's the feeding time.
Streetlights flicker as bugs feed non their dead family,
members, they only so the crimes committed here.
The truth hidden deep in the bug world,
one eye has seen it all,
find the eyes or settle with lie.