Long Single handed Poems
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Pocomoto was a cowboy who inspired dreams galore
With adventures and heroics that lit up my days of yore.
He survived the cruel killing of a ravaged wagon train
Was adopted by ‘old-timers’; lived in camps across the plain.
He rode fast across the prairie pushing forward on his steed;
Bronco Buster, Buff’lo Hunter, helped the Rangers when in need.
Pocomoto the Li’l Fella went in search of desert gold
Single-handed fought the bandits, constant evil, heat and cold.
Independence, resolution were the traits that showed his best,
Self-reliant, conquered hardships in the wild and famous West.
There are plenty years behind me but I often tend to find
Pocomoto’s recollection in the corners of my mind.
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6th May 2014
Contest: Howdy Pard
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Placing: 2nd
9-10-2025:
It’s like the scripture says,
First comes the fire,
Here to burn away the plagues.
Then comes the rapture,
Incoming,
Is this really the end of days?
By the blood of the sire,
Resurrection of the dead,
Never were you laid to waste.
Like a seed the sun inspired,
And despite treading through the mire,
I’ve been growing myself through your grace.
I’m a single handed choir,
Singing through the wire,
Belly aching and without breathing,
Red in the face.
Feet buried in my ways,
The mud reaching up to my waist,
I try not to dig myself out in haste.
9-10-2025 (2):
The vista cries,
But the views’ still beautiful,
Just watch as the paint falls.
Every artist knows that the strive always dies,
But we do what we gotta do while it lasts,
I know when I’m done,
That’s because the words will make me emotional.
When the vista cries,
A little inspiration dies.
The hues are off,
The grounds’ a little blue,
There’s no more hiding from the rainfall.
Happy accidents are just unintentional lies,
But the painting in the end is still beautiful,
Feels like all the efforts really paid off.
Another day I’ve smiled,
Feels like the efforts really paid off.
4-9-2025:
The darker days aren’t as gloomy,
But they still exist.
I’ve just been waiting on some thanks to give,
Something to be grateful for,
Praise is all I have left to give.
1-9-2025:
Tell them that you need them.
Tell them how you love them.
Tell them how every time you see them,
Your heart runs,
You smile so much among them.
Tell them you never want to leave them.
Haven’t smiled so much,
And I’ve smiled less from then.
The sober nights are gone,
But despite the drunk ones,
I haven’t really forgotten them.
THIS POETRY IS WRITTEN IN 3 HAIKU/2 TANKA FORM, AND NOTES REFER TO SENSES.
I'm fairy nature,
come to collect fall's leaf wares
to help make a coat.
A coat of sunsets,
a last breath of summer's glow
to wrap up autumn.
I disguise myself
living amongst the woodlands,
squirrels, bugs, birds, bees.
Slowly with magic
I single handed turn
the seasons over.
Sweeping winds and driving rains,
giving nature rest till spring.
I nourish the land.
Autumn's blanket becomes crisp,
stark, white, purity.
I contrast, redecorate
new, sleek, sexy, wavy tones.
AUTHOR NOTES
All 5 senses are expressed within this write, looking at touch, taste, sight, sound and smell.
'make a coat','wrap up' all indicate being touched or enfolded for warmth/protection...as does
winter's 'blanket'
sounds - could be taken from the animals, and weather...'crisp' evokes sound also. 'rest'-
evokes quieter times...
smell - comes from earthy woodlands and fallen leaves, contrasted with freshness of icy or
snowy air...
taste - evoked from 'nourish', 'last breath' of Autumn and new breath of winter air.
sight- comes from the autumn colours evoked from the 'sunset' and greens and browns
of 'woodlands', 'sexy', purity of ice and snow, 'falls leaf wares' - reds, oranges, yellows and
browns...
Did Robert Browning say it best when he
wrote, “winter takes the old ones”? Possibly.
Bronchitis, pthisis, whooping cough, T.B. –
they ran amock in 1863.
I trust it’s not too jarring if I jump
from modern miseries (ecoli, Trump)
to mid-Victorian London’s social rump,
and John Snow (doctor), and the Broad Street Pump.
The City Hall had never heard of germs.
They dealt with filth and foliage and firms,
and knew that there were parasites called worms.
But cholera? They couldn’t come to terms.
The water pump in Broad Street was infected.
Bacteria, back then, went undetected.
“Miasma” and “air pressure” were suspected:
how could the population be protected?
Oh lucky London! By sheer happenstance,
within the metropolitan expanse
young Doctor Snow was working, and by chance
had learned of recent studies made in France.
“They’re tiny animals, too small to see.
I’ll prove it, if you trust the Pump to me.”
Officials sneered with incredulity:
but, faced with daily deaths, gave him the key.
He knocked on every window in the quarter,
and showed (despite initial mayoral hauteur)
that cholera was carried in the water.
And, single-handed, John Snow stopped the slaughter!
Julius Caesar hastened a decline in liberty
Roman rights abridged, from a partial democracy.
A leader can come in, and single handed attack
The freedoms people had, not easy to get back.
Germany was a democracy under Weimar
Then Hitler came in, they followed his star
Mussolini dismantled freedoms Italy had
Democracy is easy to lose, and that's sad.
Nicaragua was a democracy, then voted in Ortega
He said no more voting until we reach the planet Vega.
Venezuela voted in a populist red:
Now people shiver when secret police tread.
Turkey was free until Erdogan moved.
He jailed journalists, judges too.
It is like roach motel, no doubt.
You can check in to dictatorship, but you can't check out.
Some leaders won just enough of the vote
Some took a while to don the dictator coat.
But freedom is apparently not immune
to a strong leader sweeping it off with a broom.
Churchill was on Democracy's side
But said it's the worst system except for all that were tried.
We have trillions in debt, as far as the eye can see
And immigrants who don't all accept liberty.
So there's pressure to enter Roach Motel
Can we avoid it? Too early to tell.