Long Inoculation Poems
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To take the vaccine
That is the decision
People must make
On Covid nineteen
A choice to decide
by the close of day
I have just reached that crossroads
knowing that the conspiracy theorists
warn people not to have it. Some deny
the existence of Covid, and claim it is no
worse than just a common cold, but I have
decided I'll receive
the first inoculation
It's an easy decision
A no-brainer for me
Although inoculated
sadly my poor Mum
has caught the virus
I can't visit with her
It's so heartbreaking
because she lives in
a facility that I can't
visit as long as there
is a quarantine edict
CROSSROADS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Kim Rodrigues
09/26/21
Sixty-Six years ago today a very naïve farm-boy left the Hoosier farm,
To seek adventure beyond the horizon since farming had lost its charm.
He enlisted in the Air Force, a knight in blue to keep the nation free.
My gosh! Come to think about it, that unsophisticated lad was me!
Since I was only seventeen, I had to get my reluctant Ma to sign for me.
She came from a Quaker background and abhorred all strife, you see.
Pa was ambivalent about the matter - just one less mouth to feed, said he.
I marched off to face the future, another warrior for our family tree!
Harassment began once I arrived at the inhospitable induction station.
Docs had me bend over, then stand, turn my head and cough for observation.
They probed and prodded and stuck needles in my arms for inoculation.
Oh! The abject misery and humiliation of it all just to serve my nation!
Next came the swearing-in where I vowed to uphold the Constitution.
A fiendish sarge then assumed command and began his nasty persecution.
"Fergit yer Mom, Dad and Maggie Mae" said he, "Yer butt belongs to me!"
Just hours on duty and I was homesick for the farm, pining to be free!
They put me on a choo-choo to Lackland AFB, Texas, for my basic training.
I was shorn of all hair - by now my enthusiasm and patriotism was waning.
Ah! But when I donned that Air Force suit of blue, I stood proud and tall!
If my pals behind a plow and mule could see me now! I was having a ball!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
That naïve farm boy went on to serve 30 years in the Air Force, retiring
1 August 1978.
You speak into your child's life in whispers
With the strength of the four winds
No need for yelling
For your child has expectant ears
Wisdom
A fathered gift
Born out of pained understanding
Mistakes not needed to be repeated
Your love an inoculation to failure
Resilience will permeate a new generation
You smile with furrowed brow
For time passes much to quickly
There is fear there is some lesson you have forgotten
Not what you want for your begotten
Still you see this precious ones progression
He possess strength laughter and compassion
Humored moments and strong funny bones
Will insure this child will never be alone
A tender heart and a will like a stone
One day
You will have to let go
Time progresses it never slows
Deep inside your heart grows because you know
You have given your all
This child will rise up tall
Won't be afraid to fall
He heeds your Father's call
For he has learned at your loving feet
Wisdom has been his bountiful feast
Some day he'll be a father too
He'll bring blessings back to you
For you have been faithful
and a father true
Inspired by Funom's poem, "Words of Wisdom to My Child".
Today, our cat spent some time with the vet for his prognostication.
It had been a couple of years or so since Simba's last examination.
Simba had no say in the matter due to our paucity of conversation.
As I coaxed him into his carrying cage, he howled in desperation!
The vet and staff look forward to Simba's visit with little anticipation!
He gets rather grumpy at the vets, exhibiting aggressive agitation!
Hence, for examinations he must be placed under very heavy sedation;
Only then can the veterinarian proceed to practice his vocation!
His eyes, ears, nose and throat were fine including his respiration.
There was no evidence of fleas or any problems with his urination.
The old fella has only 16 of 28 teeth due to a previous operation,
But no matter, he eats like an army mule in handling mastication!
For his arthritis the vet prescribed a bottle of medication,
And for good measure he was given a rabies inoculation.
I'm aware that "cat-scans" are used in treating the human population.
By Jove! Simba received a true "cat"-scan as a part of his observation!
I anticipated receipt of the bill for the tests with some trepidation!
To pay for all of this, need I present an arm or leg for amputation?
After all, we'd do anything for our old pal, 'tis our obligation.
We want to keep him around for nine more lives for our delectation!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
THANK YOU
FOR YOUR SERVICE.
THANK YOU
FRONT LINE WORKERS..
FOR PUTTING YOUR ASS
ON THE FRONT LINE
TO PROTECT ME
FROM THE ENEMIES
FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC.
THANK YOU
SERVICE MEMBERS,
MILITARY VETERANS
WHO SACRIFICED
YOUR LIMBS AND LIVES
PROTECTING OUR CONSTITUTION,
FREEDOMS AND LIBERTIES.
CAN WE THE PEOPLE,
COUNT ON YOU,
TO PROTECT,
WE THE PEOPLE
OF THE UNITED STATES
OF AMERICA
AGAINST ALL ENEMIES
FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC.
WILL YOU
PUT YOUR LIFE
AND LIMB
ON THE LINE
TO PROTECT
WE THE PEOPLE
OF THE UNITED STATES
OF AMERICA
AGAINST
FORCED DEPOPULATION,
FORCED VACCINATIONS.
INVASION
FROM UNITED NATIONS.
WILL YOU
SACRIFICE YOUR LIFE
TO PROTECT
OUR AMERICAN SOVEREIGNTY
CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHTS
FREEDOMS AND LIBERTIES.
WILL YOU PROTECT
OUR GOD GIVEN RIGHT
TO THINK FOR
OURSELVES.
AND REJECT
INOCULATION OF LIVE VIRUSES.
SLAVERY TO DEBT.
INDOCTRINATION
OF HATRED.
THERE HAVE BEEN MANY
THROUGHOUT OUR HISTORY
OF THIS GREAT NATION
WHO PUT THEIR ASS
ON THE LINE.
SACRIFICED THEIR FUTURE.
LOST THEIR LIMBS AND LIVES.
TO PROTECT
WE THE PEOPLE
OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.
THANK YOU
FOR YOUR HEROIC EFFORTS
ACTIONS
AND SERVICE
AGAINST ALL ENEMIES.
THE SEEN.
THE UNSEEN.
THE FOREIGN
AND
THE DOMESTIC.
MAY THE LORD
ALWAYS BE BY YOUR SIDE
GOING FORWARD.
AND PROTECT YOU.
FROM THE HATRED OF EVIL.
05132020
Bring back, oh do bring back, those peaceful summer nights!
When the world was not dark, but ever so still and twinkling bright.
Where eating foods of choice, was not a politically offensive sin.
Nor was any color of skin evil,determined by politically, biased spin.
Those days when we feared no dastardly disease.
Nor faces, mask covered, to make us all feel so ill at ease.
Not one human would ever dare say..that you be killed?
Simply because you chose no inoculation at personal will.
Bring back, oh do bring back, the blessings of motherhood!
The family picnic,on a plaid blanket in the emerald,shaded wood.
Where there were no cell phones,distracting us from each other.
And we were smiling, learning mankind are all sisters and brothers.
Our children are ours, to no government will they ever belong!
They are our boys or girls, how simple a message,and a soul song?
Bring us back to our senses, where we know the climate we cannot control.
Best we control ourselves,and our children in freedom’s glorious glow!!
7/28/2023
LIFE IN A SUITCASE
Crawling in the loft today, I found the suitcase.
Through a cobweb curtain, beneath a patina of dust
It lay.
Just where it’s lain for twenty years, full of memories of early days.
The suitcase.
The rusting lock resisted but eventually succumbed.
I tentatively raised the led..
And there, on top, the baby book, pages edged in blue,
Lovingly recording every detail as I grew.
Birth weight 6 pounds ten.
First tooth, first word (real or imagination?)
First step, first use of potty? Please Mum, too much information.
First inoculation.
First day at school. Is that a tear stain on the page?
Underneath, a folder full of dreaded school reports;
Teachers choosing from a list of typical retorts,
Cliché after cliché.
Progress satisfactory, written work untidy; English good.
In geography he’s lost his way; must try harder,
And now a sheaf of cuttings, yellowing as cuttings do.
A public record of my passage through
Those early days.
My parents proudly announce my birth in nineteen- thirty-eight.
My coming of age in ‘fifty-nine..
The engagement, the wedding, the first-born son;
The second, the third – where did he come from?
An afterthought.
But here’s a form, in legalese beyond dispute;
The parting of the ways is absolute.
That wasn’t part of the plan.
The story in the suitcase ends just there;
There’s no more room for records telling where
Life took me next.
Somewhere up there, another suitcase houses volume two.
But that’s for another day.
Today I have too much to do.
1st August 2020
Dusty Old Memories poetry contest
Sponsor Constance La France