Long Howe Poems
Long Howe Poems. Below are the most popular long Howe by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Howe poems by poem length and keyword.
"Steeped" in resentment at usurious taxes, a Revolution was "brewing!"
History records that the Boston Tea Party was to be the Brits undoing!
An anguished groan was heard as barrels of tea were hurled into the sea!
Their grog of rum they might forego, but never their tot of tea!
Every pupil has read Longfellow's, "Midnight Ride Of Paul Revere!"
And his lantern signals to be hung in the belfry on that midnight clear.
"One, if the Brits approach by land - two, if they approach by sea!
We'll catch 'em by surprise, 'cause they'll be sipping oolong tea!"
A decisive battle was fought to a standstill at Bunker Hill.
Although the rag-tag Yankee militia lacked in military skill,
They fought like tigers, Sir William Howe could readily see,
As he pondered his next move eating his scones and slurping tea!
On a dreary Christmas Eve, Washington crossed the Delaware.
The Brits were celebrating and were taken completely unaware!
Caught by surprise in Trenton, they were unable to flee,
All because they had to have that inviolable break for tea!
According to historians and such like who like to keep score,
They found that the Brits won many battles but they lost the war!
Though the point is debatable and the Brits might disagree,
Would we be speaking Cockney, had they not paused for a cup o' tea?
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Jordan was born with mild Cerebral Palsy,
But took part in the 2012 Paras at just 16,
Because he was born on 12th of October,
1996, and Rio was is second Paralympics.
“Even if you don’t like school, I would [def]
encourage everyone to take part [and] enjoy
sport, be it badminton, swimming, athletics
…ask others…don’t be shy, just go for it.”
Jordan made the London Paralympic finals,
But he remembers the Swansea Europeans
With great pride, because his birthplace is
Cardiff, even tho’ he trains at Loughborough.
In 2014 in Swansea he won a shining bronze,
For both his sprints - he runs in the T35 class.
In the 100 and 200 he did pride by speeding,
To the line by much strength, determination.
He says about sacrifices “I have a 300-mile
round trip from home in Cardiff to my training
camp at Loughborough twice a week, so
again, that takes some determination.” Fixity.
He feared he’d miss out on Rio’s Paralympics,
Because his groin hurt him so much, exercising,
Such that he thought he’d have to miss, bypass
The Euros in July in Italy, the entrance to Rio.
But a doctor at Nuffield Health’s Vale Hospital
Inserted a nylon mesh in Jordan’s week groin,
To reinforce it, but it is a partially dissolvable
Mesh so that he doesn’t feel it when running.
Jordan won two more bronzes in Grosseto,
In Italy in his skills, the 100 and 200 metres,
And so competed in Rio de Janeiro gallantly,
But sadly did not strike gold to top the charts.
The skirmish at Bunker Hill almost became a British scandal,
Since the Yanks gave the Brits almost more than they could handle!
General Howe expected the Yanks to toss their muskets and flee,
But the Yankee rabble fought to keep the colonists free!
Things looked mighty bleak during the winter at Valley Forge,
Where the ragtag troops regrouped to nettle old King George!
Starving and freezing, stalwart men suffered the winter through,
To show the Brits that they had bit off more than they could chew!
Lord Cornwallis' troops wore uniforms of bright, flaming red,
Making east targets for the Yanks, leaving many of them dead.
The bobtail mob wore tattered home-spun clothes of gray,
That blended in with tree and bush much to the Brit's dismay!
The canny Yanks hid behind tree, rock and craggy rise,
And were told, "Don't shoot 'til you see the whites of their eyes!"
The Brits marched in tight file to the beat of a rolling drum,
All to flaunt their strength and bravado, which was kinda dumb!
Brits had never fought such a war before and hollered "foul!"
Lord Cornwallis finally conceded defeat and tossed in the towel.
Thankfully, the colonists' dream of independence came true.
Just shows what Yankee common-sense and ingenuity can do!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Duncan was a young British soldier,
new recruit at fifteen years of age,
a good lad who followed his orders,
he was a fifer who liked to play,
his tunes directed men in the field,
the Blackwatch soldiers who didn’t yield,
deployed in 1758
to America, to wilds great.
Sent to take the fight there to the French,
in New York’s rugged northern mountains,
from long Lake George the march would begin,
a desire for vengeance to quench,
after what happened the year before
at William Henry, the blood and gore…
Abercrombie was put in command,
but left many duties to George Howe,
a young officer, and steadfast man,
lots of leeway to chap was allowed.
So out would row 18, 000 men,
excited Duncan plunked amongst them,
largest force seen on Yankee shores,
compared to the French, near five times more.
All of the men’s spirits running high,
highlanders, militia, native scouts,
the outcome didn’t seem much in doubt
when the lake’s northern end they espied,
the French had all fled that patch of earth,
Howe’s forward columns got to their work.
Duncan was not part of this advance,
his unit was unloading behind,
ahead Howe encountered men from France
trying to retreat behind their lines.
Loud gunshots echoed back through the woods,
young Duncan, then, did not feel so good,
went about unloading with frayed nerves,
after some hours, then men returned.
They spoke of a skirmish amongst trees,
how the noble Lord Howe was shot dead
in the fighting, before the French fled,
after suffering casualties.
Now Abercrombie alone took charge,
which didn’t help to lift people’s hearts.
The next day Colonel John Bradstreet went
with men to reconnoiter the scene,
up Rattlesnake hill his troop was sent,
saw the fort, information was gleaned;
Fort Carillon looked in bad repair,
and they could see no forward lines there,
with a charge they thought the French would break,
but they didn’t see their great mistake:
Trees and shrubs shielded breastworks from view,
and branches formed into abatis,
through which no marching line could persist,
none of these things Abercrombie knew,
and fearing reinforcements in time,
he chose to strike, left big guns behind.
CONTINUES IN PART II.
Nothing that God created is dull...
harmony is found in clouds, in immense space,
in earthly landscapes, in sunrises that blaze;
if nothing stupefies us, these will!
Every sunset is splendor to believer's eyes,
happy is the mother that holds her small child;
she shows the same wonder and prays aloud:
letting everybody know He controls the Heavens!
Can we despise steady rainfall that makes flowers grow
and not notice how they beautify emerald meadows?
We miss the wandering firebugs in thickening shadows,
along the kids' shrilling voices that scared away a crow!
A disbeliever can doubt His creations and still be amazed
at how perfect they align in the celestial, infinite spheres;
No sunset is similar to the previous one, it has uniqueness
in its stunning display of blazing colors that thrill the mind!
Denying truth is debating the evidence of a Superior Being,
and while defiance controls minds, a few admit He's the Creator,
the Eternal one presiding above everyone and everything;
not all act by reason, they won't admit that their denial is fear!
Evey sunset is splendor to believer's eyes,
howe hard is to surrender and be humble as Christ?
does vanity defy obedience, or makes them feel lost?
Stay firm in faith, be stirred by starry nights!
Written: January 22, 2024
_________________________________________
I hear the wild cry as I sleep,
no roaming goats or gulls or sheep.
Tire them out, no trace of dread sweep,
seamless grass is combed by reap.
I heard the humpback cry whale site,
before the day turned into night.
Hunt for krill, girls, and young scouts fight,
boys, singing, as one, of raw dight.
Meadowlarks wave wings in the breeze,
hunt flies in the sun, fly with bees.
Breathe fresh air as lowly birds tease,
tweet, and perch on red tussock trees.
Meadow wrens chirp as streams dry out,
fly high to low till storms cross route.
It's the Motor City
Motor Capital of the World
Fordtown
Motown
Hockeytown
It's lying in shards
Like olden Rome
Love among the ruins
With an abrasive outside layer
Of exhaust looks and horrendous faces
It's Rock City
Automobile City
Arsenal of Democracy
Big D
City of Straits
It's a rough, tumble, sports purgatory
Joe Louis pondering
Gordie Howe wondering
Ty Cobb mad as hell
Joe Schmidt praying
What are they yet
Lords of dust
And their inscriptions
However characters
Written in the clean
Desolated by time
Ambushed by flicker
And apparitions of the past
What was at one time, a magnificent sanctuary
Standing glad and solid
Detroit, Detroit
Yesterday is still today
And it's tomorrow, as of now
I adore you still, hi and farewell
The Lords of Detroit, looking down