Long Straw hat Poems
Long Straw hat Poems. Below are the most popular long Straw hat by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Straw hat poems by poem length and keyword.
old slag value, as valuable as Value allows it
Then as a valuable secondary source,
the slag resulted from the gold-bearing
electrolytic mud smelting
contains up to 0.8–15 k g t-1
Au and 9–13 kg t-1 Ag, respectively
------------------------------------------------
Coal Ash experiments
sorted theories and Soughted formulas.
Coal ash pits using sewage,
sawdust, and other
dissuaded organics
to recreate renewable coal.
Leaves, shredded wood chipped
wood ash, tobacco stalks
straw hat manure compose
all will be mixed and allowed to
cure to recreate a renewable
source for energy.
Racheter l'ancien Walmart du comté de McDowell,
en Virginie-Occidentale, pour créer un nouveau
magasin et contribuer à la relance
de l'industrie charbonnière locale.
Musique pour basson et cor d'harmonie
Ce genre de musique « Ooh Baby »
our porch shows what hillbillies live like
because we might as well be from Arkansas or Tennessee
We are creekers – people who live in van down by the river
stepladder, two side tables, one long glass table
glider, barbeque grill, shovels, spades, garden gloves
straw hat, hoe, mud-caked wheeled cart
six twelve-packs of water
dog kennel for a nine- hundred -pound dog
(which we have never used)
mismatched lawn furniture
broken umbrella
refrigerator, full sized, not one of those pussy ones
two night stands
giant fan with dog hair stuck to it
fold up chairs that were dragged in mud
sign with two cartoon dogs
the sign says welcome to our home
Buddy and Beau
It should say Welcome to Hillbilly Heaven
You are an old soul in a fast paced world,
as time goes on your wisdom unfurls.
Each line on your face marks experiences gleaned,
your knowledge helps navigate futures unseen.
Your memories are golden and held in your mind,
with simple conversation a treasure to find.
Your crown a straw hat, your throne an old chair,
the Kingdom you rule is the time that we share.
The stories you tell are hard to believe,
born in the good old days, in values conceived.
Your life is a legend in a young boy's eyes,
the memories live on long after you die.
Advice to the young, don't pass up the chance,
to spend time with someone whose years are advanced.
10/17/18
I had never been in a house before but about a week ago I fell onto a straw hat, and rode her into the house. The straw hat was not edible, so I tried to get comfortable in a small sewing box, but I kept running into pointy things after I burrowed in, and they hurt. Ouch!
Next I climbed up a green wall and sat in a glow-bulb. This bulb went from cool, to warm, to hot, to unbearably hot in a short amount of time, so I climbed out of the glow fixture and made a slow methodical climb down onto a bed where sat a cloth doll. She looked nice and cozy, but on first bite I knew this was not something I could latch onto and enjoy.
I soon discovered a yipping thing. My cousin had told me about dogs. It looked promising, but I knew I would have to wait until the yipping thing was asleep. I salivated as I thought about how tasty a dog is reported to be. It seemed to take hours for the dog to go to sleep. Delightfully tasty my cousin had said, but have you ever tried to take a bite of curly thick fur? After six tries I gave up.
A large snoring giant was next to the yippy thing. I had heard about giants, but I had never burrowed into one. It took me almost all night to go from the feet to the head. Once at the giant’s scalp, I burrowed in, and it was delightful. A taste of paradise. Shangri-La!
Luckily, I was not discovered for three glorious days; best vacation I ever had. A feast for the gods, and I could eat whenever I wanted until a few minutes ago when the giant did a tick check, and found me. I was promptly put onto a soft white fluffy thing. I am right now taking a raft ride down a swirling river. A fabulous week! I would recommend this to everybody!
Packed up again,
Cedars and crescents in my carry-on,
A heart and soul in my suitcase…
The mattress on my bed is bare, save for a straw hat
Resting in the middle of it and a bottle of cologne
There are scrapes on the wall
And bits where the paint came off
The floor is littered with baggage, hardly a place to step
But the room feels empty… yet again
I’ll put my home under my hat
And take one last look at the faded curtains
Hanging over my windows
1:03 am
Last call on my cell phone: Grandpa
Last call on my cell phone: A leather pillow and apple vinegar
Last call on my cell phone: A school bus in the rain
Last call on my cell phone: A hug, a kiss and another suitcase
Last call for Mr. Bakhash… Please proceed to Gate 43…
Last call…
The airports are all the same
Frantic people, too busy to look back…
Confused children tailing their parents
Overpriced coffee, stale sandwiches… all too familiar
Heathrow, Starbucks…
Heathrow, Laptops…
Heathrow, iPods…
Heathrow, Crowds…
Heathrow, Empty
The airports are all the same…
Empty
Los Angeles, Frankfurt, Paris, Dubai, Beirut
Empty
I have many fond memories growin' up on the farm as a boy.
Such simple pleasures in times more sublime brought me great joy!
I knowed it was summer when in June Dad bought me a straw hat,
And in the pasture we'd form a diamond to swing ball and bat!
I knowed it was summer when I could go barefoot sheddin' my shoes,
And wade in the 'crick' and let the warm mud through my toes ooze!
I knowed it was summer 'cause I had to attend Vacation Bible School,
When I'd rather be feeshin' than learnin' to live by the Golden Rule!
My dog Spooks trailed me as I ambled to my favorite feeshin' hole,
With a can of worms, safety pin fer a hook and willow branch fer a pole!
I knowed it was summer when upon a lofty oak limb I'd stretch,
Gazin' at driftin' clouds and, Oh!, the many boyhood dreams I'd sketch!
I knowed it was summer when I saw the steam tractor comin' down the road,
With the threshin' machine in tow to reap the grains that my Father sowed!
I knowed it was summer when I picked wild blackberries as big as yer thumb,
And ate so much homemade ice cream until my poor brain was froze numb!
I knowed it was summer when in the gloamin' I'd catch fireflies in a jar,
And listen fer the hauntin' wail of freight trains travelin' from afar!
I knowed it was summer when relaxin' on the front porch at end of day,
Fightin' mus-skeeters, sippin' iced tea and savorin' scented new-mown hay!
I knowed it was summer when hoein' taters 'neath the hot Hoosier sun,
And pitchin' hay and swattin' sweatbees, neither of which was fun!
I knowed it was summer when lightnin' lit the sky like the Fourth of July,
Followed by rollin' thunder and rain as 'neath covers in terror I'd lie!
I knowed it was summer when Mom made preserves, jams and jellies,
That along with her homemade breads and biscuits would sate our bellies!
I have many fond memories growin' up on the farm as a boy!
Such simple pleasures in times more sublime brought me great joy!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
His mom always yelled at him,
" Get up, Jed and get to work;
move your lazy butt, sitting duck
and stop hanging out with Kim! "
" Wait, until I finish my gin, mom! " "
He sarcastically replied with a grim.
These silly words were shouted with contempt
by Jed, as he watched Kim play with reddish loam;
yuck! his lips smelled of Gordon's alcoholic drops!
" Let the horses get hungry and thirsty,
I need a minute to get up until dizziness stops,
I'll feed them hay, but they should roam
and eat pasture grass ..that's more healthy!"
" Do as I say, or your salary will be less than you expect! "
His angry mom brandishing a wood rolling pin,
" Get up and tend to the horses! " She ordered with disdain.
And stumbling on logs and branches
Jed complied by sticking out his moist tongue,
" I am as stubborn as a spoiled brat...
nobody can change me with tools and threats:
a cowboy's habits are hard to break like his image,
I comply and put on this straw hat! "
Flip flops and straw hat adorn him, beach wear suits him nicely
Kind is he to her as he scoops into a bucket measuring precisely
Casted are his piteous passions in sunstruck warm sands
Gently shaping and capturing her likeness, she is in skilled hands
Stooping over chin to knee he bares bronze shoulders glimmering
Her features delicate, her hair etched in his mind flowing, shimmering
An energy is sensed as sand and water caress through his fingers
Behold if only Aphrodite answers his prayer, he pauses and lingers
Recollection clears a birth, breath of life be given this inanimate object
A saintly face faintly appears, he’s fallen in love with his imminent project
Sculpting feminine curves slowly surfacing, an hourglass figure shaped
An alluring amazon controls his very soul, an apotheosis angel draped
Belief in a statue which comes to life, vehemently pangs the phenomenon
Alas the last touches fini, fervently he unveils his seaside Pygmalion
And without further ado, emerging from the ivory sand, he prizes
An obsession his idée fixe at the edge of the pier, a sand goddess arises
A rush of gentle breeze, the palm trees wave
Verdant flutters tickle my ears
A greeting as kind as a Key West morn
As shadows lace my corn straw hat
I welcome another brilliant day
The warmth of early spring consoles
My thoughts begin to drift
I’m carried away, no worries
I tip my hat to life
Illness and death seem far away
I see only thriving bloom
A rainbow assortment, infused with grace
I walk the familiar path, sugared by Honeysuckle sweet
It comforts me, its composure pleases
It feels safe, it feels like home
Like his fathers before him, he was a tiller of the soil.
He loved the old farmstead that was built with sweat and toil.
He farmed with Clydesdale horse and cantankerous mules,
A sickle bladed mower, sulky plows and other John Deere tools.
He rose before the sun was up to milk his Jersey cows,
To feed the fowl, his cattle and the Poland China sows.
This was a way of life for him, never taking any vacations.
He cherished the farming life despite its many frustrations.
Tho' he'd seen unprofitable years, floods, hail and drought,
With indomitable courage, he chose to press on and see it out.
He knew the successful fruition of crops was a roll of the dice,
But he steadfastly labored on taking his chances at any price.
His fields of corn, wheat and oats were a beauty to behold.
He prayed he'd get top price when his various crops were sold.
At harvest, his mows were overflowing, his bins flush with grain.
Come next Spring he and his horses would begin the cycle again.
In overalls and an old straw hat, he toiled 'neath the Hoosier sun,
Laboring from dawn to dusk - it seemed his work was never done.
He clad his little son in overalls and assigned him simple chores,
Saying, "Work hard my boy - someday this will all be yours!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)