Long Sporadically Poems
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Too long have I been staring at this cruel blank page before me,
My crazed, hysteric mind screaming and imploring
I know there is a message that's dying to come out—
I need to fill this confounded page without the slightest doubt!
It's a simple predicament to manipulate,
Into a mass of thought
A futile attempt to insinuate,
Weak hints are left with naught
I sit here in silent desperation,
What can fill this page?
I slap myself in indignation,
My eagerness becoming rage!
Like roaches sporadically running from light
My thoughts are but a haze
The words I write just don't seem right,
On this cruel blank page!
The cuts are clean
They will heal nicely
The wounds are bound up tightly
Cannot see nothing unsightly
Silver strands lay across the skin when seen
Sporadically laid across the legs
Can be passed off as rough play
True knew either way
If others knew
They never said
Probably too afraid to find us dead
With razor blades in hand or blood already shed
We didn't do it for the fear of dying
We did it because we were tired of lying
To ourselves about how we feel
Never properly taught how to deal
For the pain we felt inside
We were told to always hide
Made it seem like it was our fault
For never wanting to talk
When we were ready and mentally steady
We would come to find we would be dismissed
Stating it was part of the teenage bliss
Never truly knowing if we gained death kiss
Things That Should Grow on Trees
Things that should grow on trees include:
big sea birds with
extremely long wings, old-fashioned shoe
horns, tape recorders who
play sporadically cries of
grief, blank
photographs, stamps with
printed eyeballs, people with
colourless or
very nearly colourless hair and
skin and
pinkish eyes, the word
unfortunately, the word
regrettably, the word
even though, miniature
pianos, vampire
teeth, leaf
blowers, False
IDs, illuminated loyalty
cards, the watchful and
attentive, damp
clothes, pom
poms, glass
shards, pack of
cards, rope knot
balls, plastic
trinket boxes, ashtrays (glass only), lips (too
animal lips), spines (too
animal spines), toast, headache
tablets, running
shoes, and
whores.
The younger crowd will not believe this bit of lore I fear,
But operating vehicles was more complicated in yesteryear!
For example, to signal turns you hung your arm out the door,
And to dim the lights there was a dimmer switch mounted on the floor!
If, alas, you punctured a tire, you repaired it with an inner tube.
You parked your car over a pit at the garage for an oil change and lube.
The gearshift lever was on the floor and it was always in the way,
'Specially when with your sweetie you tried to make a little hay!
To start the engine on some cars you used a knuckle bustin' crank!
To open a convertible top, you had to give it a humongous yank!
Heaters operated sporadically and in the winter you froze your tush!
Air conditioning was the passing breeze sans cooler buttons to push!
Dogs and chickens were shooed away with an oogah-oogah horn.
Shock absorbers were rare - jouncing, squeaky springs kept cars airborne
Lots of chrome and rumble seats were available for the more audacious.
Folks huddled close together since seating wasn't all that spacious!
There was a clutch to fool with and you depended on mechanical brakes.
A long trip over two-lane roads was certain to give you pains and aches!
About the only good thing about cars back then is when you filled the tank.
You needn't seek a usurious loan (as you do today) from the local bank!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
With tender heart we live alone
Void of noise and stress
Two miles each day we walk for health
My doctor seems impressed
Sporadically we change our view
And travel to the park
To watch the timid critters play
Stirring my listless heart
When one day, along the way
We startled a feeding hare
The frightened bunny jumped to run
Which caught us unprepared
My tender heart began to bark
Excited and alert
He caught that bunny awkwardly
To steal a dance in the dirt
The accosted bunny kicked and screamed
Sounding like a child
My tender heart let it go
Wagged his tail and smiled
Daniel Turner
The wine taste on his lips
effects my brain fibers,
transmitting unclear to messages
my heart.
My body captivated without resisting
I surrender like a rolling locomotive
switching to a safer track
My soul drifted slowly.
Beautify this solace feeling
sometimes a kiss is not just a kiss
my heart beat so fast, enticing the moment
I knew would not last forever,
A testimonial of confession,
my sporadically heart endures,
Merely a test, it fades
leaving the soul confused
with extremed rage.
To give, however never to keep
only and sweet and sour
was his gift of love,
The wine taste still linger
This year autumn is the bugs busying the undergrowth hiding under sodden leaves. It is children playing with and collecting acorns that have scattered the ground sporadically as squirrel’s nourishment for the day. It is the rain that drenches the plants once dried up and wilting in the summer sun. It is the showers that leave the glimpse of a rainbow as if in a distant land. It is the rotting of apples unchosen for apple-pie that blustery night where the log-fire is once again alive.
I’m reminded that now it is autumn as I step into that muddy woodland. It is though someone has shaken the trees of their leaves, the earth an array of colours, nut brown, oranges and golden yellows. Yet, soon the season will pass just as a storm leaves just a breeze and we are left nostalgic for the time we spent in these nature-nurturing months.
I think one day
I will eventually retire
And take up new residence
In the countryside somewhere
Hopefully without a care
In order to surround myself
With it's intrinsic aesthetic pretty
To awaken me afresh cometh each
Freshly new dawning of day
And return only to visit the city
And it's quickening pace
And droves of pale despondent soulless faces
And darker seedier side
Once sporadically in a while
From time to time
In order to get the balance right
And what is the difference
Between what is in fact pretty
And on the other hand
That which is pretty grim
Blessed by Jupiter adorned by Saturn,
reckless and just a bit larger than life;
For desire and a little fire we yearn;
So much of the Universe left to learn
cutting through time with a celestial knife;
Blessed by Jupiter adorned by Saturn;
Locked in a galactic waltz at each turn
she’d gladly stay with all that joy so rife;
For desire and a little fire we yearn;
Solar winds can sporadically downturn,
among a supernova there’s no strife;
Blessed by Jupiter adorned by Saturn;
The need for absolute freedom is stern,
led by the sweet rebellion of a fife;
For desire and a little fire we yearn;
Venus armed with a path of no return
amorous blues always chase the good life;
Blessed by Jupiter adorned by Saturn,
for desire and a little fire we yearn.
Some promptly left and didn't return,
Some chose to stay with concern showing.
For a finer life perhaps the first did yearn,
All building lives as families were growing.
While additional left and later moved back,
Renewing friendships, letting memories churn.
Having tasted life the other side of the track,
Sporadically, for School Reunions, others return.
We've now grown older and some have passed,
We now have fewer possessive things to crave.
Our hair is graying and our eyes are glassed,
As our steps grow slower this side of the grave.
But we've lived life by no means just half way,
Wherever we've been we remained in God's sight.
For without His grace what would we be today,
Just old Haskell Haymakers but still in the fight.