Long Saddle Poems
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There is a legend of a cowboy down in Texas
To whom they give the sobriquet of Pecos Bill.
It's said he rooted and he tooted
As across the plains he scooted,
Stetsoned, jeaned, bowlegged, and booted,
Pursuing cows and wooing gals
As was his skill.
The story goes one day while Bill was out romancing,
A cyclone came and rudely whisked the gal away.
He hopped atop the thing to ride it,
Quickly lassoed and hogtied it,
Then none the worse for wear and tear and rough foreplay,
Out stepped the gal,
And Pecos Bill had saved the day.
Now, legends often tend to get a bit inflated,
And this one here is no exception to the rule.
Some say it's too exaggerated,
I say it's well imaginated.
Like alimony oilmen often pay their exes,
Things are always so much bigger down in Texas.
Of course, it's hogwash, rubbish, bunk,
And yet how often have I thunk
That the tale of Pecos Bill is kinda cool.
Outside the walls stood a handmaiden gazing
Twisting her skirt between fingers so frail
Patches of burlap were sewn on the garment
Cut from a sack of a barley oat bale
Oh how she dreamed of the opulent palace
Silver and gold and the finest of lace
Gowns made of velvet with ribbons of satin
She spun around with a smile on her face
As if a princess, her blonde hair a flowing
Blue skies above now the tint of her eyes
Hearing a song on the early spring breezes
Never once noticed the coming surprise
Then saw him on horseback and blushed like a petal
Found on the reddest of roses that grew
Knee bent to curtsey, feeling embarrassed
Knowing this gesture is what she should do
“Good day my fair maiden, your dance was enchanting”
He said as he smiled, his kindness was felt
“So sorry my prince, I did not see you coming”
Again on the soil before him she knelt
“Rise up,” he said as he slid from the saddle
“There is no need for such formality,
for one of such beauty tis I who should bow”
Saying this he touched the earth with one knee
Once more she blushed like an apricot sunrise
Standing he reached out and taking her hand
Wondered, “What brings you by here on this morning,
adding such loveliness to our fine land?”
“Your majesty, I’m but a servant daydreaming,
Seeing myself quite the belle of the ball
Very much childish I know you are thinking
For I belong far outside this great wall”
He pondered a moment, his chin now he fondled
Suddenly grinned with the happiest glance
“Well now fair maiden, if thou would permit me
Please be my guest at this evening’s spring dance?”
“Oh handsome prince I could not even think it
Look at my dress, I have nothing to wear
Merely these rags and an old pair of high tops
Never to mention the state of my hair”
“Never you mind and I kind of like high tops
Maybe some jeans and a tank top in red
Pull your hair back and it will be perfect
Nothing you’ll need when we climb into bed”
“What’s that you say, you want sex after dancing
Beat it you creep, I’m abreast of your game
I’ll spread these legs not for anyone fancy
Damn it, you men, every one is the same”
As he departed, rejected and sneering
She stomped away feeling angry and mean
So here you find such an unhappy ending
The truth is she only had eyes for the queen
Amidst the tempestuous waters and dreams
Some argue we are all linked by similar streams
Yet, I disagree, as countless distinct ships,
Cross those raging waters, reaching for grips.
Attestive people travel on ocean vessels
In terms of style and ease, they settle
Unwinding in their balcony rooms
Relaxed, hands resting on glasses, and fumes.
Others travel aboard power yachts
As if all is fine in spikes and hot spots
With little regard for smaller crafts
That can hinder their gains and laughs.
Several are battling on warships
Nothing seems to be fitting their ships
Consistently getting ready for anything
For the close invincible battle, the bell rings.
Others are huddling in their life jackets
Pray for their rescue, ripped in dust packets
Waiting for the waves to subside
And dreading the incoming tide.
Many people dream of their paddle
They are clinging to life by a saddle
They are asking for a begrime of luck
And a chance to board a boat or a truck.
Some still don't cognize how to swim
And are scared by each wave and whim
They're trying to retain their balance
weighed out with nonchalance.
So, while you are on this way,
To a most secure and tranquil bay
Retain an eye out for other shipmates.
Who might look for some aid, or cates?
Who would bestow them a life belt?
Or perhaps an oar or paddle dwelt?
Maybe they can profit from your advice
Going around in loops and dreaming twice.
My unmet dream is to value all that I hold
All of the lovely people in my life are gold
The awe I deserve and am receiving
And the peace found with breathing.
3rd Place Contest Winner
Written: May 28, 2023
Dreaming Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
A plethora of attention
focused on twentieth anniversary
regarding terrorist attacks
upon American soil nine eleven
two thousand and one,
thus Schwenksville poet
opted for his best métier write.
While riding atop a yak
both feet went wickety wack
trudging beast of burden a throwback
to the brainchild
of John Mauchly and J. Presper Eckert
devised Electronic Numerical
Integrator and Computer
otherwise dubbed ENIAC
cumbersome invention
programing machine no easy knack
also impossible mission or fit in pocket
book versus handy to tote
laptop perfect fit inside day pack.
As an aging long haired
pencil neck geek baby boomer
who reckons himself
as schleppy (snoop doggy dog) self groomer
cannot escape scornful passersby
sneering, snickering and snorting
at me, an utter embarrassment to humanity,
who also sports sophomoric humor.
Unfair for yours truly
to saddle anonymous readers
which travails of mine
analogous overburdening
an old decrepit ass,
hence lumpenproletariat
marxist (brother) fellow,
whose insensitivity
could be interpreted as crass
subsequently aiming figurative sights
upon fresh fields,
where leaves of grass
harvested by me one
Norwegian bachelor farmer wannabe
ofttimes dashes off to Lake Woebegone
to escape madding crowds who harass
him, cuz he accentuates whole foods
with plenty of fiber to avoid
experiencing lower gastrointestinal impasse
acquiring moniker windbag
courtesy humongous formed rectal mass
necessitating the expertise of Nass
(another name for Nishga -
a member of a branch
of Tsimshian people
of British Columbia inhabiting Nass
River basin and/or dialect of Tsimshian
spoken by Nishga)
homeopathic remedies outclass
those of 21st century medicine,
said indigenous people
interpret objection toward their
age old medicinal practice as sass
even consider disagreement violation,
a figurative criminal mind to trespass
and the subject in question
a veritable, (albeit harmless) wiseass.
RITES OF PASSAGE
Each Christmas we all gathered there,
‘Aunt Clare, has more room ,after all’ with
her trestled tables and chair.
Grown-ups swigging their brown bottled ale,
young-uns, lemonade with paper straw,
VE style parties, once more.
Lunch over, the voice decibels rose,
raucus laughter oiled by the beer
brought forth more plates of festive cheer.
Cards slid noiselessly over the American
cloth, copper coins switching from pot to pot,
enthralled children watching on, ‘til
banished with a special treat, to the cold
stairs, or now bare front room, or to play
out in the deserted twilight street.
Every year the ritual was much the same,
a family ‘bring and share’ , long before
such gatherings were given this name.
FACES&PLACES
Alongside a Chiltern chalkstream
I lay me down to dream,
of country paths,stiles and steep slopes,
those days,long ago,filled with hope;
I dreamed of days of summer sun
when my life had just begun,
climbing trees,cricket on the green,
the first time I made the school team;
Football with coats and tennis ball,
bonfire night fireworks in the Fall,
carol singing through silent streets,
paper chains and Christmas treats.
Crystal clear,vision's backward gaze
brought forth from nostalgia's haze.
THE HACK
Out of the yard,my daughter and me,on a hot
summer day of Eighty-three.Hastoe to Cadsden,
there and back,eight hours in the saddle,for our
first all-day hack.Onto the canter path,down to
Paines End,through Fox Lane the route did wend.
Into a copse ,keeping the pace to an even flow.
Up to Dunsmore,past the Black Horse, we followed
the course.Chequers, Pondswood,down hill to the pub.
Horses tethered for a rest,we ate our ploughmans with
a pint of the landlord's best.Back in the into the saddle,
at the canter to retrace our steps and in Hastoe as the
clock struck four,to stack the tack on the stable door.
Listen to me read these poems on youtube under name ichthyschiro
They formed a posse and it was loaded
Three experienced at tracking
And their guide
He was a one-legged kangaroo
No one dared to waltz with him
Even Matilda kept clear
The heat was unbearable
Australia
And no one liked bank robbers
Crossing upstream the three rode through rapids
One horse was bitten by a bee
It startled him and reared
Throwing the third rider into the rapids
One scream and carried downstream
The other two rode the banks and the rapid
And their one legged kangaroo hopped
One hop forward but always angles
They came to a suddenly quiet pool
They saw a hat that was clear
The horse whinnied and a single tear
The kangaroo was exhausted and thought of a new line of work
His master lay face down and floated
The three horses gazed at the floater
And the two men followed their lead
And what about the bank robbers
They had a pint
A Lil' Bit of Aus... Free Poetry Contest
Sponsor Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver
Nice shoes
and a fancy saddle
a beautiful horse
a gorgeous, gorgeous horse!
Oh to be, love and excepted
a graduier way for me to feel
a gaudy way for self expression
the silk you see is for real
owning and caring for
the whole ordeal
shined my shoes
they shine like polished steel
people of this hemisphere
an earthy more healthy
way to play
to sing from such a position
all can hear what I say
every sorted gesture
ah rhmns for singing
not just any ole way
this one has meaning
Oh til then
on we go
if you need
I'll told you so
aint no love
like you and I
When the world
opened it's eyes
a covering of clouds
in the sky
fruits for us
portioned to be
the offering of
my love for thee
You must think I am crazy
lap steel guitars
string benders
Bassey Grooves
and drums
Two old cowpokes were reminiscing about the olden days,
Comparing thoughts about the way things are nowadays.
Spending the afternoon guzzling beer at the local saloon,
Chawing terbaccy aiming near misses at the brass spitoon!
"Well, they is even wimmin herdin' dogies in designer jeans.
Instead uv a horse, they is usin' fancy all-terrain machines!
Dudes wear alligator boots an' jeans with Calvin Klein labels.
Ya kin bet they won't curry a horse er muck th' stables!"
"Each mornin' th' boss has a tooth-grindin' decision to weigh;
Will it be th' helicopters er pick-ups fer th' roundup today?
It wuz no big decision whut we wuz to use, uv course,
We'd jes' saddle up an' ride th' trail on our faithful horse!"
"I've even heerd tell they now uses cell phones to keep in touch.
We wuz jes' outta luck if'n we got in a serious clutch.
Fer chuck we had beans, pertaters an' applesauce.
Nowadays, if'n they don't git fancy grub they gits mighty cross!"
"I reckon the things we is talkin' about ain't politically correct,
But I 'spose it's a good thing now an' agin to recollect,
On how us ol' fellers did th' job in good ol' yesteryear.
Ol' pard, let's mosey up to th' bar an' git another beer!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Twenty chains, 1320 ft.
660 ft..03125 or 1?640
30 rows of 80 plants
lavender the scent of Lovers
sweet senual labor
Oh she chorest me!
yes she chorest me!
$3000.00 per acre
Hectars 30.
Peak yeild about
$30,000 per acre!
Pretend to act
or pretend to react
wwhat ya'll talking about
The neatfoot oil!
oil my saddle that my
pants won't look aseat.
Pretend actions
the goal to encourage
what ya'll, like the smell
of success or sumthang?
Sweet thang I do!
yeah thats right I do!
Get the Sparwl workers
thinking.
get the old Bouis sangin'
What ya'll wanna mix ya'll oil wiff mine?
sweet profits and and co-mixasation?
in the mix!
Double you em Eye Loved?
Don't ya'll love me?
I look bass and say?
Look right bassoon you?
ya'll groovin?
right, right, ya'll alright!
sumthang like a groove!
get that thang ah workin!
dance yo' whey back to me!
I be Bach !
I bassoon you do!
I groove too !
ya'll love me?
Care I love you!
whiskey scented deoderant and lavender soap makes yo smell
like a drink!
twenty one and over baby!
Where have all the moments gone,
As fresh as a summer breeze!
That kissed newborn, fresh, emerald
leavees on Chicago’s trees.
Whatever became of my expansive,
Blond desk, that smelled of fresh wood?
Or, my white and black saddle shoes?
I’d wear them, ah, if only I could!
What about all my fun and convivial high
School fun, and class of friends?
I imagine them all, now grandmas on
Family-blessed, weekends!
What great satisfaction, to know that this,
My beautiful, bright, and so blessed progeny,
Will carry me with then in spirit and
Humble works, rest with them, so poetically!
4/26/2024