Long Norman rockwell Poems
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While Shuttered Up Inside... ©ozy
Snug Air Conditioned Demesne...
Analogous to my boyhood
cosseted and bereft, I assay
to poetically elucidate how majority
of mine years found me
deft keeping danger at bay
only thru the pour substitute
of my imagination
remaining safe within the causeway
of a quasi Norman Rockwell picturesque
unblemished near utopian day,
where trumped up "FAKE" danger
stoked courtesy of
anticipatory anxiety didst essay
when pinhead size
pores faux stressed
every epidermal square inch
populating skin oozing perspiration
along I-59 pro Roman
lix spittle sweaty freeway
precipitated, via illusory mailer daemons
unavoidably pitching me
into an inescapable fray
unlike late twenty somethings
(Jay Austin and Lauren Geoghegan,
whose cruel fate
at the hands of Isis militants
published online by Irish Times),
evinced carpe diem
existential Great Gatsby
live life to the fullest
created an extraordinary journey
(now forever immortalized as
daring adventurist trekkers)
with ample horseplay
deliberately, egregiously, fanatically
and wantonly killed,
when purely exalting in zest
promulgated by indomitable spirit
found me choked up,
a baby boomer i.e. west
tern civilized married bloke,
who opted to die vest
away from blatant uncertainty
never daring to experience unrest
outside a severely circumscribed perimeter,
exempt from a life
and death litmus test,
where very little harm extant,
when taking repast or rest
only ushering, venturing,
and taking, sans
quotidian cerebral quest
ensconced within four walls
without nary a pest
except...pet peeves of mine
within psyche built a nest,
nonetheless hounded by many a vicious beast
whose predatory cannibalistic feast
comprises thine psychological state greased
with until mortality expires,
asper being temporarily lend leased.
Using the snow spade to once again clear out the driveway,
I couldn't help but notice the lights that shimmered all day,
twinkling at me from the sunlight playing off of the snow,
giving the silver sparkling look of the fresh snow a certain glow,
During my repetitive shoveling I caught a glimpse of,
the gold ornaments I had hung on the tree in my front yard,
with the shiny icicles hanging down from my quaint log cabin house,
causing my love of the beautiful scenery to become aroused,
Continual shoveling made me break out in a sweat,
I knew pretty soon I would need to get some rest,
the snow drifts by my house getting higher each day,
with my dog running around in it wanting to play,
At least the snow flakes had somewhat let up,
as I grabbed my thermos and drank some hot chocolate from my cup,
suddenly it felt like there was an earthquake like shaking again,
as I watched all the snow flakes fall down blizzard like with disdain,
Wanting to go in my warm house and lounge around in my bathrobe,
instead I had to put on a winter Christmas picturesque show,
with the giant lifting me and my property up in the air,
I grabbed my dog and held onto my front porch railing with a certain stunt woman flair,
Used to this topsy-turvey world my dog and I lived in,
I saw the giant look at me with a big wide toothy grin,
like two mannequins my dog and I quickly struck a Norman Rockwell pose,
while the giant grabbed the remote and gently put down the snow globe.
12-1-16
In these four walls I look, I see
I visualize dreaming in my head
I talk - I hold conversation - I wonder
Somehow I keep my sanity instead
Knowing you listen through these four walls
I hear voices - knowing thus it is true
That these four walls also tell on you
Silently you trespass on my mind
I sit - my eyes wander daydreaming
I am mesmerized by the gaze at my window
I twitch - I stare and still I know
You listen intently to invade my privacy
Knowing in my heart - I am clean
Keeping secrets in my place and my four walls
Does it make you wonder what's in theirs
When they put their ear to this the wall
I stand tall ! I conduct myself well
To go out in society knowing you pry
You seek attention - I strive in perfection
I see this in you - the Norman Rockwell gossip
Spreading my business - ear to ear - lip to lip
In these four walls it is this my home
I sit home at night waiting too for a call
Knowing you are listening through the wall
Can you relate? to your silent listener
Invading your time - I do declare
Your time is spent gazing at the four walls
Listening into me and all my calls
You are my neighbor an this you spy
Into my private life as if to pry
I'm sure you all relate to what we hate
The spy listening in to your own four walls
Knowing all your business and all your personal calls...
Yes indeed the silent listener, I proclaim
Is the worst nightmare problem, yet We stay sane........
Ma decreed they needed some culture to enhance their sedentary existence.
Pa wasn't all that enthusiastic and offered some very stiff resistance!
Especially when Ma steered him to the city modern art museum.
He would just as soon visit the parish graveyard mausoleum!
Pa was reared a country boy and for cultural matters had very little zest,
But on this occasion he pampered Ma - he knew better than to protest!
Pa's appreciation for art was confined to barns with a Mail Pouch Tobacco ad,
Or gazing at a painting in the local saloon of some woman scantily clad!
His ear for music was satisfied by the honky-tonk gal at the local bar.
He was a poetry aficionado, reading Burma Shave rhymes from his car!
Ma once told him to wear a suit and escort her to her literary club,
But he preferred beer and banter with his pals at the local pub!
He could appreciate Saturday Evening Post covers by Norman Rockwell,
And Grandma Moses' nostalgic and simple scenes he recalled so well,
But the ghastly art he viewed in the modern art museum that day,
Seemed to him to have been crafted by chimpanzees from Mandalay!
The visit to the museum left Ma and Pa extremely cross.
Her attempts to refine him, she admitted, were a total loss.
She beseeched, "At least I wish you'd drink your beer from a glass!
I give up! I do declare Pa! You just ain't got no class!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
1930
It started snowing during the night of Thanksgiving and until the next day.
The afternoon sky was a sullen bluish-gray.
The delicate white crystals touched down on top of the smooth skin of my nose.
It kissed my forehead and turn my black hair to the sameness of mama's straight tresses.
I stuck out my tongue and swallowed the very delicate crystals along with the crisp cold air.
My cousin and I were captured by such superior rapture as we admired a wonderous scene that could inspire Norman Rockwell.
It made things the purest white.
It blanketed the rundown barn and our ancient farmhouse.
It weighs down the limbs of our fig trees.
Its beauty covered Uncle Dexter's new Chevrolet, which perpetrated a force of fantasy for us.
I lost my legs and feet in the white crystals' great depth.
It was a glorious day.
A day that was promised to tradition.
Along with papa and mama, my cousins and I packed snugly into papa's old jalopy.
The spirit of the snow chased after us as we glided down hidden roads to the cinema
.Before reaching the town the sky had exchanged its gray hue to onyx.
Descending heavily and slowly from heaven the snowflakes were like white polka dots.
Oh, how spellbinding the effect.
Oh, how it impinged my brain.
copyright January 21, 2017 Looking At The Light From The Bottom Of The Lake. Short Story Penstripe Suit.
The kindly old lamplighter ambled about the village green,
Lighting lamps to add a glow to that Norman Rockwell scene!
Sitting on a bench in the shadows to reminisce for awhile,
He recalled many by-gone scenes that evoked a wistful smile!
At Yuletide, carolers stood 'neath the lamps singing joyful songs,
To herald the birth of The Savior to the happy, strolling throngs.
Huge, feathery snowflakes drifted gently to the earth.
The lamps' mellow glow brightening faces adding to the mirth!
Young lovers stood 'neath secluded lamps in passionate embrace.
Recalling his youthful days, a knowing smile creased his weathered face.
Silver-crowned sweethearts paused 'neath lamps to reminisce.
She'd give him a playful slap should he try to steal a kiss!
Watching kids playing marbles 'neath a lamp was a delight.
How he longed to join them, but they'd think him an awful fright!
Lamp poles were a refuge to which clung the town ne'er-do-well.
On Saturday nights the constable escorted him to his usual cell!
For nigh on fifty years he'd tended the lamps on the village square.
He'd seen just about everything 'neath the lamps' revealing glare.
Now, his soul refreshed with memories, he slowly trudged away,
To return on the 'morrow to dim the lamps at dawn of a new-born day!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
As she was walking to a brand new school,
four strange men walked
with just her.
She didn't
know
why;
but she
had to be
so brave; showing
much courage, with one step after the next.
* The Problem We All Live With is a 1964 painting by Norman Rockwell. It is considered an iconic image of the Civil Rights Movement in the United States.It depicts Ruby Bridges, a six-year-old African-American girl, on her way to William Frantz Elementary School, an all-white public school, on November 14, 1960, during the New Orleans school desegregation crisis. Because of threats of violence against her, she is escorted by four deputy U.S. marshals; the painting is framed so that the marshals' heads are cropped at the shoulders.On the wall behind her are written the racial slur "" and the letters "KKK"; a smashed and splattered tomato thrown against the wall is also visible. The white protesters are not visible, as the viewer is looking at the scene from their point of view. The painting is oil on canvas and measures 36 inches (91 cm) high by 58 inches (150 cm) wide.
02/10/2021
Contest:Double Tetractys 7
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Picture #1
It has been a long time since I asked you to share my name,
Thirty seven years from a glowing ember to a bright burning flame.
I can remember seeing you back then,
How you’d just sit and practice writing your new name over and over again.
No one thought our love could ever grow,
Most gave us only a year but they didn’t know.
They didn’t know our hearts or the love that caused this burning desire.
They didn’t know that one little spark could kindle such a warm burning fire.
And now when we speak it’s two voices as one.
And always wanting what’s best for the other is how this is done.
Compassion and pain are the things that make a love grow.
Loving someone is compassion and feeling their pain is letting them know.
Like any marriage we’ve had dark clouds that loomed up above.
But they weren’t strong enough to diminish our forever love.
A Norman Rockwell painting we were not and that is for sure.
Family Circle cartoon would better depict us and the life we’ve had to endure.
But looking back brings a smile and that’s what it’s all about.
And would I do it over again in a heartbeat without hesitation or doubt.
Happy Anniversary to you, my Darling, the Love Of My Life.
With gratitude and love I thank you for being my lady, for being my wife.
I Love You
Connie was a cheerleader
bright white toothed smile
bouncing boobs
short skirt legs running long
through school boy fantasies
friday nights her stage
crisp November air her makeup
Robert was a loner
a stoner
bad clear down to the core
shriveled up inside
Salvation Army furniture
Batman comics
bologna sandwich supper
Connie was manicured lawns
gardens of flowers
white picket fences and stone pathways
Norman Rockwell dinners
lavender bath soap
silk pajamas
pink bed spread
Robert was a rundown trailer
on a filthy back lot
goddamn you f*****g punk
get the hell out morning breakfast
garage sale coffee table
stacked with beer cans and ash trays
overflowing with death
Connie had a secret
hidden touches
fatherly lust
make up hiding
violent bruises
don't tell your mother
if you want her safe
I can hurt her too
Robert had a secret
18 hour days
two jobs at garages
straight A's
never give up
never give in
blue eyes and crooked smile
whispering to the world to kiss his ass
Connie was the sharp
razor's edge that gleamed
like the holy grail
in her bathroom drawer
Robert was the strong will
the hard desire
the drive to move on
to something more
Connie was a cheerleader
Robert was not a quarterback
but they were each other's
Salvation
Feeling inside soul of time and weather change
Colder weather arriving and autumn harvest,
Full natural growth and the autumnal equinox glows
Wonderful time for a football game, hometown competitions are best.
Gnomon of the sundial projects a shadow, Harvest Days are here
Garden full of ripe fruit, colors red, rust, orange, and yellow,
Autumn crops sun ripened grateful feelings, gratitude and thanks
Raised to Heaven where the LORD of the Harvest reigns with love mellow.
Thanksgiving Day family gathers together, golden baked turkey
Aroma fills the home, Norman Rockwell nostalgic real view,
American life fourth Thursday in November true, autumn foliage and maturity
Fall September, October, November, rich and soft dew.
Fully grown hemisphere, earth giving all fully developed,
State Fair displays 1,007 pound orange pumpkin brings
Great Pumpkin to new life, candy and chocolate bars to munch,
Rodeo cowboy ropes the calf in 5.9 seconds flat, hearing the banjo band strings.
Fully grown hemisphere, earth giving all fully developed,
Remembering State Fair, glib gladness now 31st October jack-o’-lantern fun,
Corn shocks in the field and candy in the pocket sweet flavor
Rodeo time, cowboy ropes calf quickly, hands in air and won!