Long Milt Poems

The sun was rising high in the east over the town of Milton creek
It was the eighteenth day of December, the start of Christmas week
All the store fronts were decorated; it was a colourful sight...

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          Johnny and Amber

To get my mind off war and inflation
I’ve watched the trial for defamation.
  But from what I’ve heard
  that scorned Amber...

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*** Notice to the residents of Milton Creek ***

Tom serves as mayor. never complaining, so he gets what he requests 
No blood in his steak, apple pie with sweet cream. Aces cooks that meal
to perfection...

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If you would like to have your limerick(s) posted, soup mail them to me.

Ms. Rude is still writing her snide remarks
She sounds like a mad dog who barks and barks
Geeze, lady, give it a rest
Your...

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Their human ma and pa were spark out in reclining chairs
But Rum and Raisin watched the TV with enraptured stares
The western had just ended with the credits rolling past
And Raisin said, “That gunslinger was super...

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Harry Horsman's treatment was withdrawn over a week ago and they are making him comfortable, he is now in Hospice care.

Susan Ashly…we can only hope that Hospice care can keep Harry comfortable. May comfort be...

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As morning glowed pale light over the town of Soup Creek,
Jenna woke with a start when she heard a floorboard squeak.
She raised her gun and took aim at a shadow near the door,
"Hold it right...

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A Tribute to Jan Allison, I miss her on PS!


There's a sweet woman I know as Jan,
a valued member of the soup clan.
Her limericks are the best,
Poop humor above the rest!
Her long absence has been...

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Milton was a person you couldn't help but like.
Almost every  time I wrote a Triolet
He'd stop by and visit and once said,
 "You know how I love the triolets!"
A gentle soul,  shared gentle...

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In Soup Creek saloon behind Jenna’s bar
Milt’s holsters and belt and a posthumous star
Are fixed to a plaque to remember him best
There’s a custom made bracket where Milton’s guns rest

The gun barrels cross over Milt’s...

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It was the day after the new year and there wasn't a peep
The folks of Soup Creek were hungover and in a deep sleep
The mayors annual meeting was to be held that afternoon
And the venue...

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It was coming up for Christmas in the town of Soup Creek
Everyone was in good spirits and they had been all week
Jenna's saloon was very busy and Tania was about to sing
Folks had to stand...

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I've dreamed of something special for quite some time,
a vacation I've envisioned that would be simply sublime.
I'll be leaving from Miami on a round-the-world cruise
and I reserved a balcony room to enjoy the scenic views.

I'll...

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Another showdown in Soup Creek, I s'pose
Someone's got a wedgie in her pantyhose
It's another outcast
who likes to lambast
A bad attitude she chose to expose

Folks in the Creek asked why she was a crank.
What she has...

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It's time to get the stockings out of storage
before those who are nosey, begin to forage,
in my saloon, lookin' for their Christmas gift.
I know if I catch em' they'll plead the fifth!

In these parts, there's...

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 " . . . I experience the ultimate thrill.
When all the noises around me are still." 

                 ...

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SKYLARK

Tenderness in the cotton powder skies above, fly little skylark
Within these clouds milky white, soaring through the veils of 
Nirvana, sing tiny song bird with graces flight of beauty beneath,
Sway against the canvas clarity, blanketed...

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A Date with Milton

Written by Harry Horsman, 01/06/2023 
A Premiere Contest Trophy Winner

Death comes to all like a great shadow,
servant of reality when the truth of it sinks
in leaving the experience embedded on
one’s...

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I grew up on granddaddy's ranch 
There wasn’t a bull I couldn’t conquer
My cowboy boots only came off
When I changed my clothes for soccer
I love the smell of fresh green grass
The sound of the ball...

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Leading his horse in the heat of the day
Been gone a long time but he still knows the way
Just a few shacks when he went for the gold
He’d found a few nuggets but now he’s...

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In Honor of Milt - An Un-contest Poetry Contest

I love the way Milton’s poem begins. It draws my attention immediately. Line 10 jolts me with Jacobs and Jacob-ites.I’m still quite interested! Line 3 of verse...

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Worshipping in Nature's Sanctuary
by L. Milton Hankins

Johnny-Jump-Ups nestle into the forest floor mosses,
Along with dainty Jack-in-the-Pulpits hiding beneath
The larger fronds of swampy ferns soaking up moisture
From the dew-laden flowering branches of laurel
Where I find myself...

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Dear Poets, 

I know for certain that I can never thank all of you enough for the supportive comments and messages you've written over the last 16 days. Each one represented a 'Get Out of...

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As Mad Dog Milt wanders back into the town
Caressing his trigger, his face wears a frown
Six months in the hills but it’s time to return
And somebody somewhere is going to burn

Six months of life as...

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It innocently started with that libation:
that tingling, inebrious, joyful sensation.
My foolish heart acquiesced to the temptation.
An allergy or a genetic mutation
awakened my foolish heart.

I frequently fancied more fluid flirtations,
enjoying elixirs, expressing elation,
investing immensely in intoxication,
thus,...

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