Long Old timers Poems
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The poker game wuz progressin' purty well 'til Iron Mike started a ruckus!
Seems he had some spare aces up his sleeve, that dirty, sneaky cuss!
One-Eyed Pete didn't cotton to them shenanigans and drew his forty-four!
Iron Mike jumped up, toppled chairs and tables a-skedaddlin' fer the door!
That started the biggest brawl that the town uv Buckskin Joe had ever seen!
The mob wuz yellin' fer Iron Mike's head but he had prudently fled the scene!
One-Eared Earl, the barkeep, fired his rods a-tryin' to restore some order.
Meanwhile, Iron Mike wuz racin' on a stolen hoss fer the Mexican border!
The pianner player kept playin', "A Hot Time In The Old Town Tonight!"
('Twas Three-Fingered Clyde who tickled the keys fer free booze ever' night!)
Big Nell, who belted out bawdy songs each night, wuz involved, fists a-flyin'!
She busted some noses and shattered some teeth, and I ain't a-lyin'!
A dozen er so uv Madam Rosita's soiled doves joined in the fray as well,
A-kickin' and a-scratchin' and pullin' hair and generally raisin' 'ell!
There wuz so many shots fired that night, it seemed like war had started.
Many drunks awoke the next day to find that thar hair had been parted!
Studs Flanigan, the bouncer, wuz trampled as the fight spilled out on the street.
This sensitive affair caused a deeper rift between the rabble and the town's elite!
So as not to hear the fussin' and cussin', moms covered their kids tender ears.
Old-timers claimed they hadn't enjoyed sech a show in Buckskin Joe fer years!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Yesterday, I happened upon a quaint, old-time country store.
I felt I was reliving my youth as I trod its squeaky wooden floor!
The sights and smells were familiar when I entered the door.
Memories flooded my soul as I gazed upon those things of yore!
A glowing pot-bellied stove provided an inviting place to sit and chat.
Upon a barrel of cheese snoozed an inscrutable tabby cat.
Old-timers were playing checkers hunkered over a pickle barrel.
'Mongst the clutter of merchandise you browsed at your peril!
Suspended from rafters were horse collars, lanterns and milking pails.
Boots, overalls and cured hams were hung with ten-penny nails.
Silverware and pocket watches were displayed in sturdy oak cases,
And others held buttons, thread, needles and rolls of fancy laces.
There were boxes of cigars, Mail Pouch tobacco and various tools,
Straw hats, aprons, bonnets, corsets and rolls of colorful tulles.
Stacked on shelves were galluses, overshoes and boys' caps,
Crockery, umbrellas, mantel clocks and several muskrat traps.
One wall was lined with churns, cream separators and kerosene stoves.
Wafting about the place was the pleasing scent of cinnamon and cloves.
There were bins of onions, taters, carrots and fresh roasting ears.
I sat by the stove a spell to absorb the flavor of yesteryears!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Rainy deluge
Wetness clouds;
Moody day
~~~~~~~~~
Sitting still
Thoughts subside;
Just being
~~~~~~~~~
Stray stopover
Fluffy white snow;
Harsh elements
~~~~~~~~~
Death configures
Body at rest;
Time cut short
~~~~~~~~~
Snowy cascade
Fluffy feel;
Freezing here
~~~~~~~~~
Old-timers
Strolling hand-in-hand;
Lifetime of love
~~~~~~~~~
Brisk snowfall
Wild swirls here;
White splashes
~~~~~~~~~
Wet departure
Goodbye kiss;
Sad glimpses
~~~~~~~~~
Cold winds blow
Misty wild;
Wintry beauty
~~~~~~~~~
Old hands clutch
Strolling together;
Fond memories
~~~~~~~~~~
Howling wind
Facial caress;
Abrupt moment
~~~~~~~~~
Wind howling
Passing my way;
Stillness loiters
~~~~~~~~~~
Angry hands
White walls echo;
Primal angst
~~~~~~~~~
Workday jigsaw
Frustration swells;
Angry climax
~~~~~~~~~
Hand-in-hand
Evening interlude;
Bliss sublime
~~~~~~~~~
Steep ascent
Happy surprise;
Wonder awaits
~~~~~~~~~~
Chinese tea
Yunnan glimpses;
Eight years since
~~~~~~~~~
Fragrant bite
Chocolate ganache cake;
Ecstasy sums
~~~~~~~~~
Silent stillness
Quiet contemplation;
Devotional
~~~~~~~~~
Joy wears well
Facial contours;
Happy eyes light
~~~~~~~~~
My darling sleeps
Speaks softly;
Pillow caress
~~~~~~~~~
Moments brief
Crystalline tears;
Grief saturates
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
25 April 2017
Singapore
Monday morning sneaks through shack and grime,
Bullets whirr where drug barons plot their trade,
Gatas tread gingerly.wasting hours and time.
The spaza hums,mugs chime,Rooibos Tea in the lane,
Bambinos sidestep shadows,mae geri into dustty tins,
Old timers murmur incantations under the day's first pain.
Smog sprinkles from braai stands where mamtanies fry,
Pirated Kalashnikovs twinkle in the sun's first glare,
Yet souls beat steady,declining lies.
Klevahs shuffle,wallets empty,agrrements whispered fast,
Tiny tots peep through windows,hearts throbbing loud,
Even in agony,a tenacious hope holds steady steadfast.
Through shacks,mirth trembles,sharp but bright,
The day starts with grit,with pain,with dreams,
In this dream struggle, the spirit fights for light.
I met a woman, fell in love
She was a gift from above
Soon she became my spouse
We gathered things and set up house.
Some things were new without a flaw
Some were hand me downs from Ma and Paw
For some we saved nickels in a can
Some were bought on the installment plan.
Children came – a total of four
Two boys – two girls- no need for more
We managed to provide room and board
Did the best we could afford.
We moved around from house to house
On an adventure – me and my spouse
Gathering things to which we would cling
But we rarely got rid of anything.
Tables, chairs, couches, and beds
Cabinets and shelves taller than our heads
Mugs, pictures, and bells we did collect
Mementoes and heirlooms on which to reflect.
A man gathers a lot in over fifty years
And remembers many of them with tears
Many a thing still fills my house
But it’s not a home without my spouse.
She has a room in a retirement home
Care is provided and she cannot roam
I dreamed one day we would be old timers
But I never figured on Alzheimer’s.
Now I have a house full of stuff
Too many things - more than enough
The time has come to downsize
To an apartment in the high rise.
My children came one by one
Went through my stuff until they were done
One takes this and another takes that
And managed to do so without a spat.
Giving things away is a lonely task
My irritability I cannot mask
Gathering things with my spouse
Was more fun than cleaning out house.
My muse stopped by today
He knew he’d find me home
With this current virus
I seldom outside roam
The Governor’s making changes
Things are freeing up a bit
I sense with all this “freedom
Corona deaths may take a hit.
So many resist face covering
It seems an overbearing task
To slip behind that silly thing
When in public: Wear a mask
When I’m out & about
I see a “no mask” comin’
I step off to the curb
I don’t care to see’em grinnin’
I’ve seen some blow their snot
On the grass & on the walk
Where little neighbor kids
Draw pictures there with chalk
Folks think it’s only grey hairs
Daily dying from this stuff
But a growing number of kids
Are having it awfully ruff
Some may think the “old timers”
Are all ‘huddled’ in care-centers
So they can’t get it from others
Unless someone, outside enters.
Essential workers & suppliers
Must come and go each day
If one of them gets it from you
It spreads so easily that way.
I wear a mask for many reasons
Fear may head that list
But care and respect for others
I might offer here as a gift
Do I think they do much good?
That’s questionable as best
I believe they offer folks comfort
That’s enough to pass my test
For years there have been signs
On doors you enter by
No shirt, no shoes, no service
Today I wonder why?
Many claim "so loudly” today
Their ‘rights’ are being taken
As though “Basic Freedoms”
Have suddenly been shaken
This temporary bother
Of putting on a mask
Will surely not be extended
To an every lasting task
“They can’t tell us what to do!”
“We citizens have our rights!”
Although we can’t run naked
We have to wear our tights ;o)
We’re told to walk & don’t walk
With the blinking of a sign
Your dog poops in a park thicket
You will get the ticket. :o)
Next time you’re in a theatre
The crowd is still and quiet
Don’t stand and yell out FIRE
You might surely start a riot.
So you selfish “no mask” champs
Just go along your way
My only hope is, if there’s harm
It’s you that has to pay. ;o(
Written by oldbuck 5/24/2020
In the midst of the pandemic.
Jelly bean warships judiciously cheering for the enemy?
The old timers do not understand this unnaturalness.
“It is an inescapable truth today,” Sgt. Mars Bar told them.
“We are all about preserving the rights of everyone else.”
Some tittering twits known as Smarties marched by at that second.
Several poked fun at the old-timers, calling them names like
“Crappy, Tired, Worn-out and Needs Energy.”
“What about our rights?” Captain Seniors asked him.
“What rights?” Sgt. Mars Bar asked. “You are invisible.
I thought you knew that. Didn’t anyone tell you?”
The youth kept screaming mean things to them,
making them realize some people could see them.
“So everyone has rights but us,” Major Oldster said slowly.
Sgt. Mars Bar nodded.
“Because we are invisible?”
“Exactly!” This was the last military exercise most of them attended.
"At the Third Stroke.
It will be four, four, and 40 seconds, precisely."
"At the Third Stroke.
It will be four, four, and 55 seconds, precisely."
Old timers like me can remember
when time was voiced on the telephone when you dialed '1984'.
To get the 'Speaking Clock'!
or were told the time in tolls of local church bells.
or the number of gongs of town hall clocks like 'Big Ben',
chimes on the hour, half or quarter.
When you could ring up on 'me old telephone' at
some ungodly hour in day or night,
and hear the recorded time precisely there and then.
When your grandfather's job
was to chime the time in the hall.
When God told you the time
with church bell gongs and rings.
Can you remember when you lost track of the
time, when you lost track of the count of number
of the chimes or of tolls of bells?
Less important perhaps
at midnight than midday,
but this had you reaching
for the 'Bakelite'
black telephone to
hear the time precisely,
"At the third stroke".
Or you could wait for the 'pips' on the hour,
the six short sounds on the radio,
still going strong after 90 long years.
pip, pip, pip, pip, pip, pip!
There 'tis some ungodly hour precisely!
Silicon city
That pulsates,
Both day and night,
The Tech Capital
And the sky, veiled
With urban haze
And dense, sprawling cityscape.
Grey city of its
Gridlocked roads
Surrounded by
Towering skyscrapers
Inspiring
The coder
And the entrepreneur.
Glass city
Of its
Modern offices
And its apartments
Compact and sleek,
New and bold,
A striking, sure testament
Of the presence
Of the FUTURE.
Neon and chrome city
To reinvent
The bustling rhythm
Of its progress
And yet retains
Echoes of the past.
City of early mornings
When the techie
Leaves his flat
And in the busy metro
Taps his laptop
The commuter,
Eyes on screens,
In air-conditioned cars,
Mimics and rushes
To connect
With the world
That fuels their DREAMS
As a true Bengalurean.
City of endless startups
That illuminates the path
Of the innovator
And the visionary
Who disrupts
Tradition,
Complacency,
And long
Established norms.
Green-grey city
A mixture and contrast
That modernises,
Reshapes the landscape
Of time accelerating
That unleashes
And propels,
Surges swiftly
Unstoppable
And holds in
The tech parks,
By the malls
And facing the
Global IT hub
These dreamers
With cutting-edge ideas
Sitting at the edge
Of this vast
Transforming metropolis,
Creating
The digital future
That captivates and challenges.
City of diversity
Of heaped-up talents
With global backgrounds
Who meet online,
Collaborate,
Innovate,
Connect, Expand.
Disrupt,
Complement,
Enrich,
Express themselves,
Coming just
From every corner
Of India and the world
To the heart
Of Bengaluru
And the epicentre
Of South India's
Tech revolution.
And nostalgic old-timers?
The ambitious Newcomers?
All together
They coexist
And merge
Their traditions and
Their aspirations
In progress
And innovation
But New Bengaluru
Carves out for itself, indeed,
The future's share.
A dynamic and complex present
Whose energy
Excites and overwhelms
Leaving digital footprints
In cyberspace
And experiences
Virtual,
And actual,
Fast-paced
And relentless.
The Cider Gum (Eucalyptus Gunnii)
By
Kevin L Fairbrother
The full Moon ablaze in the night sky
Beams down on the dead and dying Cider Gums
Their ghostly silhouettes, so white and stark
Now just a reminder of the past
…
The Central Plateau, the High Country of Tasmania
Is or was home to these magnificent trees
Now there bleached skeletons tell the story
That the environment in which they flourished has changed
…
Grazed extensively by native and domestic animals
Used by the aboriginals, settlers and trappers
The Cider Gum leaf, was used to make cider
And the sweet scent used to freshen homes
…
Eucalypts Gunnii (Cider Gum) unique to Tasmania
Once so prevalent and used in a variety of ways
Now standing forlorn, dead and slowly dying
Their limbs and branches bleached white by the sun
…
Many attempts have been made to re-introduce the gums
But the changing environment and pressure from the wildlife
Has meant that the Cider Gum is facing a loosing battle
For the seasons have changed, not enough rainfall and hot summers
And the snow no longer on the ground for weeks on end
…
Such a unique and magnificent shade tree, stepped in history
Will soon be a distant memory and extinct
Will be left to the old timers to tell about the Cider Gums
For I have doubts that mother nature can revitalize Eucalyptus Gunnii