Long Set the record straight Poems
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Puzzled are the recipients of a fruit cake from Santa Claus this year!
Seems that Yuletide ain't complete 'less you git one to bring you cheer!
Fruit cakes are much maligned and I'm here to set the record straight!
However, I must admit 'tis one of the most bizarre things I ever ate!
Even a mediocre chef can be very creative in concoctin' such confection,
Tossin' in all kinds of dubious stuff and whippin' it up to perfection!
Yule never know what Yule find when into a fruit cake you slice!
You just have to take yer chances! 'Tis a proverbial roll o' the dice!
Should you choose not to eat the thing for fear of breakin' a tooth,
There are numerous functional uses fer this lowly delicacy, forsooth!
They make a wonderful door stop, foot stool or a very formidable missile,
When hurled at yer neighbor's yappin' mutt, that ever makes you bristle!
This is a not so subtle reminder so as in your mind there'll be no doubt,
If you're givin' fruit cakes as gifts next year, please include me out!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Humpty Dumpty had no yolk
As oft implied to younger folk.
This hatched idea in oviform
Should never have become the norm.
And so, before it is too late
I mean to set the record straight.
For Humpty was a tortoise bold
With hankerings to break the mould.
‘Why should it be?’ he’d often sigh
‘That we chelonians cannot fly?’
With lofty thoughts, aerodynamic
He climbed the wall – no sign of panic.
His oak-leaf wings in ten-fold ply
Assured success in his mind’s eye
But birds in flight looked on in dread
Knowing too well what lay ahead!
It's great to hold high aspirations
But best to know one’s limitations!
Now Humpty is content to roam
At leisure in his mobile home.
THE MYSTERY OF HUMPTY DUMPTY CONTEST
05/07/18
I heard the tale of Humpty Dumpty who sat on a wall,
and how he managed to have a terrible and fatal fall.
But let me be the first to set the record straight,
everything that happened that day was not fate.
Humpty was a rising and upcoming gymnast,
that could do flips on the balance beam really fast.
He had enemies that hated him to the core,
they wanted to be Him,and so much more.
So one day they greased down the infamous wall,
Dumpty practiced there everyday, they knew he’d fall.
Until this day no one knows the true story,
It was the biggest lie told in modern history.
My father was a king's horseman and a gymnast,
and helped kill him and think of a lie that would last.
6-28-18
British-born Kenyan
adventureress globe-trotter
one of the first bush pilots
aviatrix authoress game-spotter
a woman before her time
through and through
who had simultaneous affairs
with Prince Henry, Duke of Gloucester
(son of George V)
his older brother Edward, Prince of Wales
(later Edward VIII)
and Denys Finch Hatton too
the Kenya Derby a six-time winner
as an unrivaled thoroughbred racehorse trainer
whom my Dad at EAR&H well knew
as whenever she was able
it was he she would speak to
regarding rail transport of her stable
in 1936 she was the first female
to fly against the wind
let's set the record straight
to get it right
the Atlantic Ocean non-stop solo
from east to west with the night
"He was a brave, resourceful and honest boy. He would have been a successful man under
other circumstances. I loved the youngster in the old days and can say now after the passing
fifty years that I still love his memory. He has gained an unfair and undeserved reputation.
Most of the stories told about him are simply not true at all. He was born into poor
circumstances and did what he did to get by. He was a thousand times better and braver
than any man hunting him." - George Coe, close friend
He was a remarkable boy. Far above the average of the young men of those times and he
undoubtedly had the making of a fine man in him." - Susan McSween, close friend
He had a great personality and could ingratiate himself in people's good graces very quickly.
He had laughing blue eyes, always smiling or laughing, very accommodating and good
hearted. He had an innocent timid look and all of this took with the girls at once."
- Lily Casey Klasner, resident
"All the wrongs have been charged to him, yet we who really knew him know that he was
good and had fine qualities. We have not put our impressions of him into print and our
silence has been the cause of great injustice to him." - Martin Chavez, close friend
"He (The one who killed him) was afraid to go back into the room to make sure of whom he
had shot. I went in and was the first to discover that they had killed my little boy. I hated
those men and I'm glad I've lived long enough to see them all dead and buried."
- Deluvina Maxwell, very close friend
"He has gained an undeserved and unfair reputation to this very day,
and so his truest to life story written poetically is my mission to set the record straight."
- William A Cleator, Me
****************************************************************************
That last quote of mine actually does rhyme poetically,
and so that justifies my posting all of these documented quotes from history
about this well known historical figure, but who is he?
****************************************************************************
To Continue Go To
2. "Quien es?" "Who is it?" Part 2
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=195856
For my very last poem
I'd like you all to know
I used to live on wanderlust
Though now it doesn't show
For my very last poem
I'd like here to confess
That for too much of my too short life
I didn't try my best
For my very last poem
I'd like to set the record straight
The guy who sometimes made you smile
Didn't always treat his family great
For my very last poem
I'd like here to admit
I missed my share of deadlines
The final one ~ this 'last poem contest' is it
Yet for my very last poem
I still hope that you think
I'm the type of good-natured fellow
With whom you'd like to have a drink
I ran out of words to say,
or the strength to shape them right.
Grief settled in and took its place,
and dimmed my will to fight.
I found a kind of solace
in the silence left behind,
Though others moved to fill it
with stories to malign.
They shaped it into something else,
something that I’m not
turned absence into evidence,
and truth to what they thought.
And still there was a pull in me
to set the record straight,
to step back in and say my piece,
but I could not bear the weight.
Would they hear me differently,
or turn it once again?
Or would I stand there, just as before,
and lose myself in them?
Because what I lost is already gone,
no words could bring it back,
no perfect phrasing strong enough
could change a thing like that.
I learned to live with what they said,
with no one who'd defend.
Silence, reshaped and interpreted
by those who need to win.
I took my worn and battered frame
and chose at last to leave,
For there are no winners in a war
that no one can concede.
Because there are no victors here,
not in battles fought like these
just the slow, hard work of finding peace
and learning how to breathe.
And the quiet kind of courage
no one else may choose to see
the kind it takes to walk away
and keep what’s left of me.
I'm at work in the village market, sky of lapis, lawn of jade,
Near the stump of the ancient chestnut where my grandpa learned his trade.
I could close my eyes and still enjoy the view
With a friend like you.
Gotta say I'm uncertain whether there should be an empty space.
If the pieces won't fit together, should I force them into place?
I've been burning for the puzzle's missing clue
And a friend like you.
With a friend like you I can plainly see
All this heat and smoke only adds to the mystery.
Sit and stay awhile. Take your blessed time.
I'll be here all day. To be a working man ain't a crime.
Think I need a strong cup of coffee and a chance to just sit down.
Take this old leather apron off me. Drop my hammer to the ground.
Still, I swear there ain't a horse I wouldn't shoe
For a friend like you.
Muscles ache; that's to be expected. It's the unseen threat I fear.
Seems the minute I've got my back turned, some mule kicks me in the rear.
But I'll never hear a word that makes me blue
From a friend like you.
From a friend like you I get truth instead.
It's an honest job and I'm just earning my daily bread
As the bellows blows till the forge gives light
And the iron glows so I can't tell if it's day or night.
For a friend like you I could bend the bar,
Set the record straight and rest content with a cheap cigar.
I could mend these chains; make them fit like new.
What a man won't do for a friend like you.
my grandmother’s name is Verna
some look at her and see section 8, welfare checks, abuse and neglect
they see insufficiency, ignorant independency, a trench-condemned wreck
no collegiate education, no high-school diploma, they see a lack of dedication
they look in my grandmother’s eyes and with the snap of their fingers subject her to poverty, they banish her to being a pawn in their monopoly
they gratuitously perpetuate their hate and generously project their mental state
and to this? my grandmother smiles, she says Ladybug, don’t worry about me, they don’t know
They don’t know that my grandmother has built diamonds of men in the rough
she has made roses of women out of concrete
mountains move at the sound of her step
she makes even what is long lost feel kept
her smile could make a fish breathe out of water
i could posses no humanly title more noble than her granddaughter
there is no greater honor that I am allowed
no duer justice of mine than to make her proud
my grandmother sculpted my spirit with calloused hands and a heart overflowing, imbuing me with a strength born not of privilege, but of fiercely earned knowing
they don’t know about the lullabies she’s sung through thin walls, how many time she’s picked me up from my falls, and more importantly how she doesn’t keep count
her motherhood, a tapestry woven with threads of sacrifice and strands of grace, a masterpiece unseen by eyes that only value pedigree and place
my grandmother has raised generations of excellence. don’t believe me? just open your eyes-you never met a woman so sagacious-so wise-so gracious-even with my words you couldn’t surmise
I’m talking about a charisma you wouldn’t believe, a resilience you couldn’t conceive, a wit you could never deceive, a love you wouldn’t know how to receive,
if i died and said I never knew unconditional love, I would be a bold-faced lie
i think my grandma would raise up out her grave and set the record straight with a fire burning in her eye
hell, call it blasphemy but I think my grandmother’s touch could make a blind man see
her soul breaking chains and setting lives free
my grandmother’s name is Verna
and if God was a woman on earth, then I’ve been a disciple since birth
"Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers…"
Every time I hear a kid recite this twisted rhyme,
I'm 'minded how 'gainst Mother Nature it's a crime.
What that peck of peppers was no one can tell,
Perhaps banana, jalapeño, cherry, bell.
But whate'er they were, it's plain, at least to me,
That such a peck as that came off no bush nor tree.
For years this simple nursery flaw
Has scraped, and scoured, and rubbed me raw,
And in my very craw the thing's been sticking.
So to bring the problem up to date,
And to try and set the record straight,
I've checked with Vlasik, Clausen, Kraft,
And all agree the notion's daft
That peppers can be pickled prior to picking.
Author's note: Of course, there could have been a typo in the original manuscript, and Peter actually "packed a peck of pickled peppers", or maybe Peter, himself, was partially "pickled" when he picked 'em.
Entered in Tom Woody's Nursery Rhyme Wackiness Poetry Contest on July 16, 2024.