Long Horse and buggy Poems
Long Horse and buggy Poems. Below are the most popular long Horse and buggy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Horse and buggy poems by poem length and keyword.
Hearts hear happiness breathing
Heavenly hope free of grieving
Hesitating a healing hearth leading
Home that happens to be heaving
Harm that has heard the pleading
Haunting hastening toward the meaning
Horse and buggy that hauls a load
Handles the hollow form of the code
Heartened heart who has always rode
Hoarded heavily inside their abode
Hoping to heal the heartiest ode
Having hopefulness which has flowed
Hallucinating a haven that might explode
Horseplay which leaves all of creation
Hope of a second chance to avoid temptation
Heaven happens to heal every relation
Hastening us all to last through the duration
Hues of angelic halos remind us of salvation
Alliteration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
December 6, 2020
Regarding yours truly
he experienced setback
amplified by Luddite propensity
nostalgic longing for simpler age
bring back horse and buggy
better yet find me a mancave
and/or apprise me
ideally via email
Flintstone web page modality
allowing, enabling, and providing
excellent linkedin access
whereby augmented
and/or augmented reality
telecommunication simulation
delivers, exports, and ferries lame poetaster
to small town America
a place that time forgot and
the decades cannot improve
within which dwell
strong women, good-looking men
and above average children
Wobegon place name
preserving lifestyle
exhibiting voluntary simplicity
though aforementioned fictitious locale
fires up imagination as does
a place called Willoughby
flourishing along outer limits
of twilight zone
buzzfeeding outlier zee
crème de la crème confabulist
this side of Schwenksville
hankering towards... nebulous
body, mind and spirit synchronicity
courtesy sweat of mine brow equity
acquiring alliance, cognizance, existence,
guidance, intelligence...
think Dick Proenneke
alone in the wilderness survivalist
jack of all trades
I would live free,
yet nevertheless die
ill equipped to captcha victuals
and/or drink
to stave off hunger
and/or thirst respectively
one twenty first century beastie boy
heavily dependent upon
urbanization, mechanization,
industrialization, civilization
to savor creature comforts
climate controlled environment(s)
courtesy finite fossil fuel extraction
*****sapiens scourge upon planet Earth
me metaphorically on par
one more human parasite
zapping nonrenewable resources
thus desirous (yet helpless)
to forsake consumerist lifestyle
yet lack ways and means
to toil physically
to wrest good n plenti
juicy fruits of labor,
which initial premise
as iterated with poem title
dramatically off tangent, yes?
The bridge was built in 1892 across the gorge of Deer Lick Creek.
Many eerie things have happened since that time adding to its mystique.
'Twas built when men took pride in their guild of yesteryear.
Built of sturdy oak, it will stand for many years, that is very clear!
Eerie clip-clop of horses' hooves can be heard on moonless nights.
'Tis reported that darting to and fro are mysterious lantern lights!
According to local lore a lady in white emits a sepulchral scream,
As she leaps from the bridge with a babe in arms into the rushing stream!
On certain moonlit nights a specter is seen dangling from its beams.
He was caught in the act of fornication by an angry spouse, it seems!
Even to this day, horses are spooked as they skittishly cross the span,
And libidinous lovers avoid it as a trysting place when they can.
The old bridge has weathered many seasons with dignity and grace.
Once, horse and buggy crossed its oaken floor at a much slower pace.
'Tis pleasurable to stroll across its creaking planks and muse upon its past,
But best you do so during the light of day or the stroll may be your last!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Acres and acres of barren land.
The dried tumbleweeds roll across the open field,
their roots dry and uprooted.
The quiet cotton field where slavery once beckoned,
the sounds of voices chanting,
the saloon where the taps flowed like blood through their veins,
the missuses with long skirts and huge hats—
a young miss sitting on the knee of some foolhardy lass.
The sheriff across the way,
a hand on his hip, meaning business.
The smell of warm bread lingers in the air from the bakery,
the blacksmith, hammer in hand,
striking the hot iron on the wood stove.
Memories of ancestors and fool’s gold remain in the dark.
The fine line that was drawn is still visible in the sand,
along with the bloodstain, now a faint shade of pink,
telling a story of the law against the outlaws.
The onslaught that ensued had turned the town into a war zone,
makeshift graves and wooden crosses everywhere,
a place where man no longer exists.
A battle of wills with no surrenders,
the legacy now silence,
marked in stones scribbled in red.
Years of neglect; now it feels like a ghost town,
the empty years and the signs that are left are part of the history.
In the distance, the sound of life; there’s the silhouette of a horse and buggy.
Inside, a little family—the new settlers.
The father jumps down at the line in the sand.
A boy of six, with dirty suspenders, squeals with delight
as his father, with sweat running down his face,
hammers the sign in the ground.
The hope of a new beginning is felt in the air.
You hear the faint sound of a baby crying,
the mother shushing
as she reads the simple wording:
In Marked Territory
1889
Population: 9
I suppose since time immemorial - Dads have provided tutorial,
Doing their best to strive - To teach their kids how to drive.
Though Dads were never all that keen - Kids pestered him once a teen,
To drive the old family sedan - To get a license as soon as they can!
Noah no doubt taught son Ham - To steer the Ark for his driver's exam.
Even with practice in this and that - He managed to bump into Mount Ararat!
Roman lads were shown how to steer - By Papa the fearless charioteer.
How Papa cried, "Oh, mama mia!" - As son raced up and down the via!
When the horse and buggy became the rage - Junior was quick to engage,
Pa into showing him all the glitches - To avoid upsetting in the ditches!
Then along came the Model-T Ford - With all the latest gadgets aboard.
Son crowed that he could drive - He hit a sturdy oak - he's lucky to be alive!
Today with more stringent rules - Driver's education is offered in schools.
But to ensure they're taught the rudiments - And other basic elements,
Dads with tight jaws drive around town - Trying to get their kid to slow down,
Dads suffer through driving sessions - Trying to stifle their kid's agressions!
Pa looses lots of colorful speech - As Junior brakes to a smoking screech.
His head meets the windshield - Thinking his fate is surely sealed!
Dad tries to regain his composure - He's had enough of this exposure!
But he recalls with a grim smile - "As a kid neither was I all that versatile!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Placed No. 4 in Debbie Guzzi's "The Rhyme Inside" Contest - March 2011
A winter's horse and buggy ride
Despite the chill I'm warm inside
Hot cocoa and a quilted seat
A blanket and our body heat
A frosty night that's crisp and clear
There's no one else but us right here
The snow is falling, ever slight
Lit up by flame and lantern light
And if you're cold then I propose
You snuggle up to me real close
I'll open up my coat for you
Wrap yourself inside it too
Put your head upon my chest
Nap now Bluebird, take a rest
I'll let you know when we arrive
Hold me, hug me while I drive
I can't believe I'm here with you
A long awaited dream come true
Hold me, hug me all the more
My love on you I'll pour and pour
But not right now, to sleep you go
Pleasant dreams my love, you know?
A little kiss, now close your eyes
I'll watch over you my prize
Contrasting and full of range.
He featured styles that were
in tuned to her octaves.
She wished him to shine to
show a world her discussion making
abilities. She knew that her range
her assignment would be to
convince him to agree to a point
in the song where
her low range would be answered with
his higher range
her low ooh would be answered
with her higher ooh
until they reached the section of
the piece where the tempo of the
song changed. Octaves to
describe rallentando to
accelerando or vice versa. He would
have to understand and
agree:
to make the rendesion the best
interpretation of a rendering of
the piece. They would talk it over
in a horse and buggy to assure the
gentlemen that she was honest and
sincere. The virtuosity of the man
is all she demands.
To There Own Ambition
Black salsa with garlic and cilantro
with charred green onions
and Ribeye steaks
Sourdough yeast rolls
Garlic parmesan and cream rice pilaf
w/ toasted pine nuts and pancetta
Blackberry and Molten Chocolate souffle'
w/ vanilla ice-cream
with Muscat de-Beaurmes de Venise
A smile might began the evening.
Nana told me once how she and Pop-pop
went courting in a horse-and-buggy.
How quaint I thought, and was a bit amazed
how far we humans have gone:
from smelly, plodding horse
to crossing an ocean in an afternoon
while six miles high....
Then Grandma told me something shocking:
she said they went out in that carriage--
to make love! Nana! I gasped silently,
until I saw she meant the words literally:
my grandparents went courting!
Months of courting to make the love
that would hold them together for over
sixty-three years...and I am only here because
two young people took long, long
buggy rides behind a tired, smelly horse.
[rec'd n/a/ on 8/1/21 in a ***** ******your choice' contest]
Pick a place you want to go
The answer never will be no
How about a rustic inn?
One where we have never been
With cottages on private coves
Overlooking lilac groves
Horse and buggy romance rides
Snow capped, pine tree mountainsides
Cozy, warm, big fireplace
Reflecting, glowing off your face
Nooks and crannies, old heirlooms
Like corn cob pipes and horsehair brooms
Mornings, evenings, crisp and cool
There's only one unbending rule
You have to let me do it all
Breakfast, lunch, and dinner call
Clean up after, make the bed
Wake up early, plan ahead
Have your coffee, fresh and hot
Waiting for you on the spot
Bring it to you where you are
Serenade you on guitar
Songs of love I wrote for you
Other playlist favorites too
Solely you for company
I only want you there with me
They who claim to have seen or been abducted by space aliens
are either very delusional or are just plain and simply lying
or they may have been deceived by others most conniving.
These aliens possess a torso, four limbs and a head for a body
and these are traits that have evolved here on planet earth only.
Every specie here on earth that displays a face
all have the same ancient common ancestor from whom they evolved that trait.
The odds of such similarities occurring in outer space beyond our reach
are profoundly astronomical at the very least.
I do however have one other theory
that may shed some light on this space alien query.
They are not space aliens at all. They are the future of humanity
who have traveled back in time to study their evolutionary history.
We now travel in automobiles where we once used horse and buggy.
We've created trains and airplanes so as to travel more quickly.
We now have the Internet whereupon we once depended on libraries only.
Our advancement is evolving exponentially.
So I ask you; Is time travel so inconceivable to be attained eventually?
Every so called alien looks like a clone to me.
Perhaps they are all fading out very slowly
and can no longer procreate as do we.
Cloning a clone is like making a photo copy of a photo copy.
The image through many generations begins to fade eventually.
So maybe they're abducting us to extract our DNA to preserve their specie.
As far fetched as this may sound, it makes scientific sense to me.