Long Smarted Poems
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My thoughts drift back thro' the fleeting mists of time,
To my youth when life seemed somewhat more sublime.
Memories waft thro' my mind as tho' on gossamer wings,
Recalling uncommon folks, events and very special things!
I'll never forget the taste of Blackjack or Teaberry gum.
Being chosen last for the game and feeling so very glum.
Then we played the game without raging, meddlesome adults.
Kids handled things, albeit, at times with bruising results!
My friends nor I ever owned fancy pedigreed dogs.
We played with Erector Sets, Tinker Toys and Lincoln Logs.
A motorcycle sound was made by pasteboard flapping on bicycle spokes.
Eyes smarted from fizz in noses as we sipped our nickel cokes!
Teachers wore suits and ties; ladies wore dresses and high heels.
A bit of sass earned a session with one of the school's wheels!
They didn't abide chewing gum, caps or any other slovenly trait,
But worst of all was facing Mom at home and learning of your fate!
I recall Green Stamps, the Fuller Brush Man and Studebaker cars,
Candy cigarettes, Bit-O-Honey and Powerhouse candy bars.
How wealthy I felt upon receiving an allowance of a dime
Ah! Such simple joys! My! How things have changed over time!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Saturday afternoon
The wind blew hard this afternoon in Cascais
whirls of dry soil, the dust, smarted eyes
Not much fun walking around doing nothing
looking into shop windows of expensive dresses
A barber shop was still open, and a barber with
scissors in his hand looked haughty, challenging
me to enter, oh, no, my man, my wife cuts my hair
I hate having a haircut, a few strands of hair left
on my scalp, may not grow back.
Horses turn their back to the wind, and I had to
face the blast going home.
I sat on the terrace, looking at the sea that
was greenish today; I don’t look at the ocean
often having seen the sea until tedium
while waiting for the potatoes to boil.
But I do remember the Caribbean Sea, with
a dulcet smile.
Without Knowing Your Gender...,
(nonetheless ex post facto still flattered)
Bhutan names defy affiliating,
determining, identifying... gender,
and what a faux pas this dada admits,
when a blessed high school
student did league gully tender
benighted, gifted, ordained yours truly
with sobriquet "Guru"
alluded to in previous poem, render
ring this foolish hearty good fella (me)
falling prey to embarrassing situation,
(I did misrender
as would be expected
from this crash test dummy,
who dented his psychological fender),
vis virtual mind bender,
when an initial presumption
smarted Matthew Scott as offender,
asper online youth NO pretender
by him, aye mean the sender
communicated his admiration,
adoration, adulation for this big spender
of sincerity, viz singular poetic magi - (ha)
made presumption that
unknown messenger slender,
and female, and
upon enclosing appender
referencing person as "lovely princess"
did respondent clarify finding deface
of zee poet here -
logic chops went thru blender
as if slapped by a suspender
experiencing irrevocable shame
as though a contender
attempting to guide false supposition
playfully mistaking sexual
identity of male sender,
he (young kneeler)
bowed as winning scoring goaltender
down as mine professed
metrical feet, he who acquiesced
non Asian minor, friender
NOT seeking moneylender,
nor mistook my heart of gold),
mine apology I did obligingly surrender
and possibly chuckled to himself,
asper an uproarious hellbender
whereat my countenance turned
fifty plus shades of lavender.
Dumbfoundedness still prevails three weeks later...
when held spellbound courtesy grifter
Flim-flam man left lasting emotional whiplash
his derelict perfected artifice
to hijack every last cent
smarted me with indelible smash;
living daylight delivered I kidney you not
envious affliction affecting
last named member and founder of the Byrds
with crosby, stills, young and nash
entire corporeal being turned to hash
condemned state yours truly relegated,
cuz cremation unaffordable, though pulverized
and transformed into powdery ash;
Impossible mission to conceptualize
transmutation into cremains, the brain
lodged within me noggin
ill equipped to envision mine gray matter
even after asking mister Google to explain
that cremation takes place
in a specially designed furnace,
referred to as a cremation chamber or retort,
and exposed to extreme temperatures –
up to 1,800 degrees Fahrenheit–
leaving behind only ashes.
Following the procedure,
a cooling period required
before the remains can be handled.
Yours truly can best attest,
when succumbing as victim to virtual heist
I most likely flip flopped
into one percent atavistic Neanderthal state;
a surprising revelation
23andme genotyping results
yielded said presence of proto human
after analyzing DNA
courtesy saliva sample from eldest sister.
No other logical satisfactory explanation doth chime
lapsed consciousness, hence reasonable rhyme
whereat one twenty first century mortal man
virtually travelled in time
cast into nasty, shortish brute
obliging deft inducement
outsourcing valuable dough.
Though aforementioned far-fetched notion
smacks of high skepticism,
yet no more ridiculous than
hominids over bajillion years springing forth
from flotsam and jetsam in the ocean
I may as well broach another theory of creation
(just came to my mind),
that divine omnipotent wizard
sprinkled magic potion
across primordial sea
after watching an advertisement promotion
claiming said product
contained the seeds of life and white lily.
Convinced that snake oil salesman
wrought deleterious influence
triggering a debacle that rocked
the financial market,
(albeit constituting one singular naked ape),
an attorney general based in Philadelphia
believes I presented a convincing case,
which hopefully witnesses
recouping all or most of my funds.
I sweat when I’m nervous,
Its my trait,
Not by choice,
Anxious,
My fate.
When I’m first to show,
Last or out smarted,
Just the thought of being anxious,
Means that it’s started
Sweats come,
Mouth drys,
Run away,
Want to cry,
Mop my brow,
How,
No tissue,
Big issue,
Some one speaks so I have to react,
Retract,
Will they see me sweat,
Think I’m weird,
It’s everything I’ve ever feared.
Deep breaths,
Need to stop muttering,
Eyes wide,
Don’t start stuttering,
Sweaty pits,
Can you see,
Please no,
Why me,
Wrong colour shirt,
Feel hurt.
Make an excuse,
Need to leave,
Reprieve,
Could say somethings happened,
Terribly bad,
Play the part,
Look sad.
Say I’m unwell,
They’ll think I’m mad,
They don’t know me,
My bad,
My life
My struggle
Too many feelings to juggle.
Moan,
Feel so alone - in this crowd
Why am I here,
Fear
Maybe it’s too soon
Too loud.
Deep breath - stay calm,
Happy thoughts,
Sweaty palms,
Run away,
I must not,
...............
I’m only at the bus stop.
Ill-tempered Elfin Queen, would bully
and demean everyone she'd see
an unruly brat
nasty tricks thought daily that
when on her throne she sat sadly
She had to force her head in a sack
precaution she must engage to hold back
to gaze in a looking glass
so she could surpass
or the magical mirror would crack
Casting curses became her fame
enticing elf’s was her daily game
maidens that were shrouded
and barren were allowed
in her kingdom was her aim
But to her shocking surprise
all of their bellies begin to rise
the Elfin Queen was livid
she had been smarted
was blinded and they criticize
For she hadn’t for saw that right
when the sun goes down and the lights
go out humans are smart
love comes only from the heart
beauty is only skin deep, that brings sight
© 4/29/2015
She was first to the top of the hill,
He was close behind.
A stranger and yet there was recognition of something familiar
By both parties as their eyes met as he appeared above the crest of the hill.
Maybe it was it was the inner strength on the part of them both,
Against all odds they had stayed firm and not climbed a board the ship of state,
Rejecting the offer of happy pills
To get them out of the doldrums both.
No they still felt the need to keep their eyes open and their minds free
Preferring the view from the top of the hill,
Not caring if the wind smarted their cheeks
As it served to remind them that they were alive and free.
The pain that should have been there as they looked down
On the ship of state as it pulled up anchor and sailed out of the doldrums,
With those on board, unaware of the choppy seas ahead,
Bereft of any thought that they might drown.
It was enough for them both,
To no longer have to hear their warnings falling on deaf ears
Or be tempted to give up all feeling and be blissfully ignorant,
Under the ship of state sail cloth.
Only after the ship of state had disappeared from view
Did they feel the need to speak,
Unashamedly guilt free
As they sat holding hands seeing no ship to spoil the view.
Oh, the things we give of ourselves, as each day we live,
not much left of us, each day for us to give.
The heart aches and the betrayals, that we face,
makes it hard to walk therefore in His Grace.
To feel loved and needed, and appreciated you see,
all these things, are desired by you and me.
We struggle and fight, just to make it through our day,
all the things, that gets throwed our way.
Stumbling blocks, stepping stones, it’s the way we see,
our perceptions, are as different, as they can be.
We are equal, yet we are not the same,
this world of difference, leaves everyone to blame.
So be careful, what you put yourself into, you see,
something’s are not mean’t for you and me.
For if they bring you trouble, you find it at your door,
those thing’s we don’t need, has a whole lot more.
Complication, no dedication, frustration to the heart,
we might not want these things, as we give them part.
Confusion, dis-array, all jumbled in the box,
that’s where we are out-smarted, by the fox.
Keep it simple, simplicity at its best,
a place where you can truly, find your peace of rest.
Without knowing your gender...,
(nevertheless ex post facto still flattered
genuine heartfelt kinship mattered,
hence the reasonable rhyme
across the webbed wide world
I subsequently scattered).
Linkedin to the previous poem,
(similarly written scant few years ago.
I also codified, glorified, and lamented
an unexpected cessation of communication
with he/him who affixed yours truly
appellation of wise man, which modesty
of mine gently downplays.
Bhutan names defy affiliating,
determining, identifying... gender,
and what a faux pas this dada admits,
when a blessed high school
student did league gully tender
benighted, gifted, ordained yours truly
with sobriquet "Guru"
alluded to in previous poem, render
ring this foolish hearty good fella (me)
falling prey to embarrassing situation,
(I did miss render
as would be expected
from this crash test dummy,
who dented his psychological fender),
vis virtual mind bender,
when an initial presumption
smarted Matthew Scott as offender,
asper online youth NO pretender
by him, aye mean the sender
communicated his admiration,
adoration, adulation for this big spender
of sincerity, viz singular poetic magi - (ha)
made presumption that
unknown messenger slender,
and female, and
upon enclosing appender
referencing person as "lovely princess"
did respondent clarify finding deface
of zee poet here -
logic chops went thru blender
as if slapped by a suspender
experiencing irrevocable shame
as though a contender
attempting to guide false supposition
playfully mistaking sexual
identity of male sender,
he (young kneeler)
bowed as winning scoring goaltender
down as mine professed
metrical feet, he who acquiesced
non Asian minor, friender
NOT seeking moneylender,
nor mistook my heart of gold,
mine apology I did obligingly surrender
and possibly chuckled to himself,
asper an uproarious hellbender
whereat my countenance turned
sixty plus four shades of lavender.
I don’t think I’ll ever see
a POTUS as stupid as Trump can be
Recently he had Iran on the ropes
Iran’s beleaguered citizenry flush with hope
Cheering a President who seemed to mean what he said
that he’d leave Iran’s oppressive government for dead
But he stopped abruptly, he pulled the plug
let Iran’s maniacal thugs out of the hole he’d dug
Why didn’t Trump finish what he’d started
As things stand now, he got out-smarted
For all his boasting and blither-blather
I imagine most everyone would rather
Not see him give the Ayatollah hundreds of billions in alms
with zero progress on nuclear arms
Or let Iran control the Hormuz straits in 60 days
when pre-Trump it was always a free international waterway
And at the G7 conference, he defended permitting Iran to keep her ballistic missiles
confounding America's generals and top-drawer military officials...
The ‘deal’ Trump's ‘negotiated’ lacks any reason
~ except as ‘Exhibit A’ for an indictment of treason