Long Scare off Poems
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If only I could be five once more
With all the knowledge en wisdoms from distant shores
Oh what a time I would have
At only five, I would be a devilish lad
I would file tax returns just for fun
Only because I have no income
I would say five million I make
What do you think will be your take?
Let em collect from a five year old
The IRS would they be so bold?
Sure they would try, that I know
My name I would say is old Al Gore
I would eat ice cream all day
If mum said stop! Id say no way!!!!
I am only five once in a lifetime they say
So ice-cream is my right!!! For that I will fight!
I would eat cookies as meals
I am only five and not fat at all
I would eat all day and eat all night
Who the hell cares, I’ll be alright
I would fly to Las Vegas
And place bets on number five
I would date cocktail ladies
I show them five is alive
I would change my name
To Alice Cooper
And behead a few chickens
Just to be cool and scare off a few wiccans
I would buy me a bike a boat and a plane
So I could travel like Hefner and act insane
I'd have playboy bunnies, all wrapped in chocolate
Fantasies and dreams, I would swagger and strut
I would drink whiskey with cool aide cause I am only five
Happy hours I would have with hookers in dives
I would have a fake beard, so I appear six
I would listen to rock all night, ending with Styx
Donuts and Pizza, would be my daily fair
Hangovers and Playboy bunnies, why I know you’d all stare
Oh how evil I would be at this tender young age
Smoking cigars and playing the sage
Id rob me a bank for a million dollars
And spend it on Nintendo as I laugh and I holler
No way they would put a five year old in jail
Who cares anyways, you’d know I’d make bail!
Cause I would be only five
Summer spring bright colors, smells, flowers blooming welcome feast
Amongst these bees so irresistibly attracted to sugary nectar
A thought occurs to me, to see these little buzzing specters
What kind of journey , these perfect pollinators wander
Antennas smell and measuring flight, zipped away to honey
Bees bobbed among the blossoms, sip the rosy dew swoony
Blushing flowers shall rise upward towards the sky scents carried upon the lazy breeze
Pollen on their body, wings, and as they flit
Nestling inside blooms of fields, gardens, and budding trees
Fertilizing egg cells to make more seeds as they knit
Summer springs our new young queen bee that has been wooed
With winter reserve of honey and pollen she hibernates
As she emerges from her nest preened vibrating her flight muscles to generate heat
Her colony ready with food to rearing the rest of the brood
Worker bees huddled around her to protect and keep her warm
Like a golden yellow sea of brown bands wave their bodies to scare off rude predators
Visits of the bees help preserve and spread
Much of the existence to fields, gardens, and our natural forest
To detach the bees from the nature would mean
The demise of countless species of flowers and plants that we fail to appreciate
9/27/2016
Poetry Contest : Bees
Sponsored by: Shadow Hamilton
antenna, waves, sky, breeze, nectar, and pollen
A Nubian goat they called Split
Was rehabbing her front leg a bit.
She was having a blast,
And the time flew by fast,
But she wasn’t quite ready to quit.
She suddenly realized she’d dozed;
It was later than she had supposed.
She was out in the gloam
And a far piece from home;
Her position was fairly exposed.
A coyote was out on the prowl.
Bat and Gat heard its far-away howl.
They hopped on the double;
Their friend was in trouble
Because things could quickly go foul.
So they headed down to the gate
It looked like they might be too late.
That evil wolf-dog
Had moved to a jog;
Now Split had an uncertain fate.
Well, they knew they were doomed in a fight,
For fearful and big was his bite!
So they devised a plan;
To the culvert, they ran.
There's a coyote to scare off tonight!
With Split, they all hid in the ditch;
Hoped they’d pull off their plan sans a hitch.
Stuck their heads in the pipe
When the timing was ripe.
(This next part is rather a stitch!)
Well, they howled, and they screamed, and they spat!
You’d have thought it was a mountain cat.
With the amplified sound
Like a lion surround;
The coyote would have none of that!
Then he turned tail and soon disappeared.
They could finally signal All Clear.
With Split in between
They soon split the scene
And let out a Hero Cat cheer!
----------
For those who have been breathlessly awaiting the second installment of Bat and Gat: Hero Cats!
I heard tell some folks think cowboys built the West.
The only thing I know for sure is I always did my best
to give a man a good days work for an honest wage
ridin' among tumbleweeds and dried brush of sage.
I wear a Colt 45 to scare off rustlers and killin' snakes
and I don't play cutthroat poker with tinhorns or rakes.
It ain't never been an easy job, the life of a ranch hand,
herdin' cattle near the flowin waters of the Rio Grande,
but it's the only way I always wanted to spend my days,
beddin' down under the stars, watching the herd graze.
I'm keepin' one eye open for those wanderin' lil dogies,
chewin' on the end of what's left of smokin' my stogies.
I lassoed a proud stallion, and gentled that big paint.
He's been a good trail horse, so I got no complaint.
I was in love with a rodeo gal, a pretty lil' barrel rider
but she told me a cowboy wouldn't be a good provider.
So I strum my guitar, singing a lonesome cowboy song
about findin' a good woman who won't do me wrong.
One day I'll be an old cowpoke, lying up on that hill,
but not 'til my last roundup, and my body's had its fill
of ridin' the range, mendin' fences, ropin' mustangs,
and eatin' chuck wagon beans when the bell clangs.
I've been thrown off a bad bronc, name of Buckin' Jet,
but don't put my name on that tombstone; not just yet.
January 26, 2021
Cowboy Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
We’ve got a border to secure
To keep bad folks out I’m sure
But a fence it must endure repeated breechings
And every him and her
In Congress with a cure
Says our plans are immature and keep on screeching
A 10 foot fence is no deterrent
Sixteen’s the thinking current
But bring a ladder and that’s all she wrote
So maybe alligators
Water too high for hip-waders
We’re thinking maybe we should build a moat
So let’s just build the fence in pairs
In between we’ll stuff with bears
Who’ll scare off most and eat up all the rest
And electrify the wire
Turn the power each day higher
Survival of the fittest at its best
So what’s each mile going to cost?
The calculations all been lost
But they say they’re going to figure out the bill
It started out at three
But grew from there you see
The latest number’s something like 6 Mil
And 6 million for each mile
Will add up after while
I mean the border’s 700 miles long
But that’s just the Southern fence line
We’ve a North one to build in kind
Can’t we see that something has gone wrong?
Just what are we protecting?
What lose are we projecting
And every day the cost just seems to double
No matter what we do or say
They’ll get across them anyway
Why should we even go to all this trouble?
Form:
The realisation that this violent red came up in me, that it had put
itself out there, against a peaceful blue
hidden underneath my skin I thought, but once this disconnection
came up, an unsafety, the red escaped
and in an instant, alien became less distant, fluid in my daily
countenance. How I’ve always assumed you
were the rock and I the water, how it turned out to be all the same.
Me fully capable of standing on stones
in the fluidity of waves, in this distractive life. And even while
I peak over the cliff edge, with the wind
in my face, drawn into depth & distance - I know the cracks of then
and the hills of now will become a passage,
a progress, through the fragments I breathe, for the joy I feel. You
went along with a trust to my inner world while
you wouldn’t anyway. So I decided to wend my place, to dream up
a furnishing and survive nonetheless. Once
your heart has jumped out of your body, the rivers & tides will
smooth over. Structured daydreaming will
bring out the bright, fresh morning I need, to scare off the ghosts of
my lost night, a subverted realism to coast through
a clear consciousness over the guilt and some uneasy providence. What's
done, is done. True. Time well spent.
Scarecrow
You'll find me
in paddy fields and gardens;
even on front porches.
I'm a decoy, as lonely as can be.
I look frozen in time,
mimicking Jesus
crucified on the cross,
but I swear I mean no disrespect,
you religious zealots!
Blame farmers and gardeners!
They make me look this way!
They live to humiliate me;
dressing me up like a ragamuffin,
stuffing straw inside my coveralls,
placing a dumb-looking hat
atop my head; you name it!
Yes, I know I look ridiculous.
I wish I'd put
my perennially outstretched arms down.
Don't be scared of me, kids,
I speak no evil
I don't speak at all,
and I do not harm anything
that breathes air
Yet you humans choose to avoid me
like the plague
but come Halloween,
you all love me for just a day!
Go figure.
Yeah, I see some of you
staring at me, chuckling;
whispering amongst yourselves
about me having no brain
in the "Wizard of Oz" movie.
In my defense,
It was a misrepresentation!
I don't speak, but I'm not that dumb!
I know how to do my thankless job
and do it well.
I scare off all the birds
that peck at newly cast
seeds of growing crops, don't I?
Not so brainless now, am I?
Date written: 05/15/2020
“Daddy!” the young boy screamed one night,
his voice was filled with dread
When his dad arrived his son cried out,
“There’s a monster beneath my bed!”
His father touched his son’s cheek and smiled,
“Let me have a look.” he said
Then clutching his son’s hand
he peered beneath his bed.
“Be careful Daddy! Be careful.” was all his son could say.
“I think we scared him off.” Dad said, “Looks like he’s run away.”
‘“You see monsters are good as scaring but it’s courage that they lack.
I have just the thing you need to insure that monster won’t come back.”
It guarantees there will never again be a monster beneath your bed.
Then he put something in his son’s hands…”It’s a dreamcatcher.” He said
This will only let your good dreams in…it filters out the bad.
It will scare off any future monsters…no matter how big or ugly…or mad.
And from that day forward throughout the years
the dreamcatcher worked just like his dad said
and never again did he awaken to find
any monsters beneath his bed.
And many a morning we would awake and wonder…
since he only had good dreams…never bad.
if the magic was in his dreamcatcher…
or the magic was in his dad.
In the darkest and coldest world
one can find a flickering flame,
never allowed to shine brightly and widely
and break the macabre darkness;
nothing could escape from here,
from its torturous and squalid abyss...
where each demon has a frown of austerity:
ah, in this obscure confinement, I'd be afraid!
In the darkest and coldest world
the isolation is unbearably horrid;
bats constantly squeak to scare off owls that coo,
hunters hear their scary sound and speedily shoot;
nobody shows compassion for the ugly creatures
that only seek warm blood to feed their bellies!
In the darkest and coldest world
demons obey their master Lucifer,
he controls them with his menacing looks
and they dare not speak a rebellious word;
this Fallen Angel with extreme handsomeness
was thrown down to beautiful Earth
from Heaven until he would complete his wrath:
don't be prey to this vicious captor!
In the darkest and coldest world
nobody is free to breathe air and to rebel,
to plot and seek revenge in unescapable Hell;
and being doomed to obedience, there's no will
to compromise, any disorder is harshly punished
by a thousand lashes that make the flesh bleed!
Often times when we glance at the mirror
Staring through its lens in powdered face.
We marvel, we wonder and ponder
Over the physical flesh.
O! Do you sometimes cry
Wishing you were carved from the finest of marble,
Or you smile when showers of compliment flood your being?
If only beauty was an antidote to death,
What would have been the faith of an ugly lass who walked the street?
So we eat to keep fit
And swallow pints of pill
To keep the body,
And care not of the withering soul.
If only the sight of a man's muscle
Who has made a home of the gym could scare off death
What would have become of a man who is as lean as a broom?
So here I sit
In this dark night
Staring at the candle light,
Listening to my thumping heart
Linking mortality to futility.
I can only reach you through words
I can only implore your mind
To trace back its step to reality.
All the clamouring,
And all the grumbling
Of being ugly or beautiful
Bothers not the treacherous death.
When the body remains still
And there seems to be no air in your lung's fill,
Then you realise that this body is meant for the maggot's fun,
When interred to mother earth.