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.
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.
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
In November when frost was on the punkin and corn was stacked in shocks,
And the snows began to fall and geese flew southward in V-shaped flocks,
'Twas time to gather in the corn for a huskin' bee on the old barn floor,
Where neighbors gathered to have some fun and fulfill a vital chore!
Ma slaved over her wood-burnin' stove to provide fixin's for the event.
Pa and the boys squeezed apples makin' cider, hopin' it would soon ferment.
Lanterns were hung from beams and baled hay was there for seatin',
And Ma confiscated Pa's saw-horse table to spread the vittles for eatin'.
Folks arrived in scores by horse and buggy, some by open sleigh,
Tetherin' their steeds to hitchin' posts after feedin' them oats and hay.
The bee began with the belles and swains huskin' corn by the bushel.
Findin' a red ear of corn among the yellow was deemed so very crucial,
Since that person rated a kiss whether a lovely belle or the local cad!
The huskin' done and corn scooped away, there was more fun to be had.
The floor was swept for dancin' to the music of a fiddle and mandolin.
Good grub, fun and fellowship reigned til the wee hours of morn, therein!
Even grandpa and grandma were seen squar' dancin' which was neat.
The rafters of the old barn shook to the beat of dancin' and shufflin' feet!
Ain't no fun anymore since corn is husked and shelled in one fell-swoop,
By a dude and his corn-pickin' rig even without the aid of a scoop!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
A lot of fancy gizmos befuddle me in this technological age,
Where perplexing computers, texting and twittering are all the rage!
I can empathize with the feller who renounced horse and buggy days,
To subdue the baffling horseless carriage that became all the craze!
Clyde Schlunk reluctantly retired his faithful horse and buggy wheels.
He was the first in town to own one of those new fangled automobiles!
'Twas simple to harness a horse, feed him oats and shoe him all those years.
Now he must master complex clutches, cranks and shifting gears!
'Twas hard to break years of habits spent driving a buggy and horse.
He still had his buggy whip near at hand in the automobile of course!
When trying to stop the machine he'd yell, "Whoa! Nellie! Whoa!"
As he tried to avoid a tree or slid through slippery sleet and snow!
His erratic driving terrified chickens, horses and little old ladies,
As he whipped about that sedate little town like a bat out of Hades!
The only pain he suffered from his horse was a kick now and then.
But when cranking the carriage he busted his knuckles over and over again!
He still hollered "haw" to turn to the left and "gee" to turn to the right!
Did the town folks' ridicule bother him? Not by a blame sight!
Clyde never learned how to control those forty horses under the hood.
He couldn't rein 'em in causing all sorts of havoc in the neighborhood!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 2 in Joyce Johnson's "Your Very Best" Contest - February 2011
Ice say... water we dew wing to planet Earth?
Tis appalling *****sapiens legacy,
the future survival of species can ill afford
hence we must not dodge and dart away,
but heed urgent call to arms decree fiat,
lest vast gamut of flora and fauna
deprived their rightful respect
courtesy ewe buick wit us ram
me bipedal hominids wresting
driver's seat and steering fate
all species unfairly doomed
analogous to horse and buggy
only far worse, whereat naked ape
that nasty short tempered and brutish
beast finagled, hijacked, besotted,
usurped... sacred covenant taurus
once illustrious precious habitats
escorted to shreds
innocent plants and animals, we
signalled anonymous poetic mouthpiece,
cuz world wide webbed tapestry
irreparably tattered, thus swiftly tailored
measures beg critters to needle
arrogantly depraved, galling humans
violating, tormenting, ruining...
basket of deplorables mankind
violently, obnoxiously, indiscriminately...
destroying carte blanche - absolute
zero guilt whittling, vaporizing,
uglifying, trampling, slashing, razing,
quashing, paving, oppressing,
eradicating, devaluing, burning...
once upon a time edenic oblate spheroid
now crowded house overpopulated
teeming billions wantonly annihilate
at expense of avast extinction
to sustain global industrialization
kickstarting lamentable machinations
spindling, fondling, mutilating
permanently desecrating scarring
wreaking havoc rendering uber
terrestrial plain untenable
massacring, incapacitating Gaia,
she unable to shuck off yoked aggressive
lymphatic, metastatic, narcissistic...
asphyxiation, choking, eradication
biological diversity flummoxed
hounded, jackknifed, liquidated
promulgating me, no matter futile
effort to appeal against doom
fervent clemency against
effrontery, queasy temerity...
mercilessly rained down pell mell
upon inimitable mother nature
unspeakable, unpardonable, unforgivable...
despicable, horrible, ineradicable... demise
affecting every living organism.
Just on the cusp of experiencing joie de vivre,
the triumvirate of Crooks and Quade
figuratively swoop down
to announce re: inspection
of apartment unit B44
whenever they deem appropriate.
Thus series of unfortunate events
(linkedin with bull limey
Lemony Snicket bro)
got sidelined nsync with
contracting a minor bout
with deadly Amish Flu
symptoms found garden variety reasonable rhymer
bedridden feeling a little horse and buggy (ha),
incapacitated to craft signature poetry writing.
An honest to dog confession
regarding hiatus spewing forth
vociferous versatile vocabulary
mine words - worth their weight in gold
(told woofer I do not know), nevertheless
included perusing a gamut of reading material.
The passion to engross intellect
witnessed courtesy immersing
attention, concentration, excitation
gratification, intoxication;
knowledge prized more precious
than fine spun gold.
Likewise crafting (albeit painstakingly)
elusive notions that flit
to and fro hither and yon
(analogous to ping pong ball)
within parameters of
microscopically crenellated
sixty plus shades of gray matter
also constitutes fervent interest.
Automobile prohibitive maintenance costs
pitches me pitifully begging for alms
lamenting dog forsaken
melon collie unpleasant circumstances
pleading with outstretched palms
disgraced to beg, perhaps donate
major organ and/or entire body
to ease vehicular qualms
aha... methinks the missus could pose
as ventriloquist after mortician embalms
these lovely bones, but, hmm...
even then post mortem
agitation most likely becalms...
Straitjacketed impasse finds
yours truly going for broke
to nurse our 2009 Hyundai Sonata,
which monetary outlay doth yoke
mine fate heading, née accelerating
at ever increasing speed
emitting plume of smoke
which thick noxious exhaust
would immediately choke
any innocent wheel chaired,
or ambulatory pedestrian,
bicyclist (think Chernobyl),
a nightmare that did woke.
Mein kampf reduced between
a rock and hard place
analogous to trapped betwixt
Scylla and Charybdis
inadequate funds to purchase
newer preowned car,
nor paltry monies to erase
utter nightmare, yes
father did spring me
unexpected mullah, yet
the near future will menace
this dirt poor aging baby boomer,
and his moderately significant other,
she too needs more than solace
lacking gainful employment and
financial resources, maybe brazen
to broadcast such
amidst digital populace
such tsuris (Yiddish meaning
trouble or woe; aggravation)...
Just letting of figurative steam
emblematic of this easily
intimidated fellow with decent
original (long "e") meme
all throughout his life shouldered,
or voluntarily stationed to sidelines
courtesy crème de la crème
topnotch competitors within
human race attain the
supposed "American dream"
or similar facsimile thereof
finding one fool on the hill
gagging at extreme
pauperism, yes mainly linkedin
to series of unfortunate events
(Lemony Snicket would ogle,
envy chiefly hanker ring)
hashtagging me more supreme
regarding amassing adversity.
Thank you stranger near or afar
understanding how or why
Sylvia Plath crafted The Bell Jar
a cult classic, I would never
attempt to duplicate, my par
for the course literary contribution
might... humph earn me one lone star
if ever dabblings in scratching
out feeble efforts courtesy this word Tsar.
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
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
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