Long Town Poems
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The Haunted House
‘Room to Let’ the signage read,
and though it looked run down,
I’d found no other place to stay
since I was new in town.
When I knocked upon the door,
a voice called out, “Please enter.”
“Hello,” I answered in reply.
“I’d like to be your renter.”
A lovely woman greeted me.
She had a toothy smile.
“It’s nice to have the company.
It’s been dead here for a while.”
Outside a wicked wind blew forth.
The front door slammed with a crash.
Just as quickly every window
fell down in their sash.
“I guess a storm’s a-brewing,” I said,
covered in bone-chilling sweat.
“Let me show you to your room.”
replied the shapely tall brunette.
“Some steps here may be rotten,” she warned.
“I urge you to beware.”
Moaning fell with every step
as we climbed the creaky stairs.
The room she showed me looked quite sparse.
Inside was just one coffin.
“Please excuse the dust,” she said,
“I don’t come in here often.”
She wiped away the cobwebs
once we got inside the room.
“It really is quite cozy here.”
Then pointed out the tomb.
“If you like the chamber,
I suggest we both get started.
No other soul will bother us,
They have all departed.”
I laid inside the casket.
It was a perfect fit.
“I believe I could be comfy here,”
I hastened to admit.
“No one here will vex you,”
She signaled with a wave.
“You will find this haunted house of mine
as silent as the grave.”
“I’ll need a small deposit,” she said.
Then, bent and bit my neck.
As she sipped away I asked,
“Do you take traveler’s checks?”
“I’ll take this as collateral.”
She said after she drank.
“There’s no need for money here,
I have my own blood bank.”
August 17, 2018
Sponsor- Dear Heart
Contest- The Haunted House
Title your poem - The Haunted House
On Sunday the Eighth of October 1871 shortly after nine o'clock at night,
The Great Chicago Fire began causing panicked folks to flee in fright!
'Twas alleged that Mrs. O'Leary's cow kicked a lantern to start the conflagration.
She and her hapless cow were "udderly" condemned by an outraged nation!
There was prejudice against the Irish and the O'Leary's were to blame,
For owning a cow, owning a barn and the lantern that ignited the flame!
But they were hardworking immigrants who'd saved $500 to buy the place,
To make a home for their family and the American dream embrace.
When the fire began a warning rang out from the courthouse bell,
But at 2:05 AM the massive bell crashed down as it tolled its final knell!
Since the entire town was constructed of wood, folks were asking for trouble,
And as a result old Chicago town was left in a smoldering heap o' rubble!
From the beginning of the fire everything that could go wrong went wrong!
Horses pulling fire engines ran helter-skelter scared by clanging bell and gong!
The fire left 100,000 citizens homeless and about 300 people perished,
Along with their cats and dogs and most everything else they cherished!
Well, it transpired that Mrs. O'Leary and her cow received a bum rap!
That dear little lady was in her bed when the fire began enjoying a nap!
Strangely, her barn and two cottages were spared in the Great Chicago Fire!
They were finally demolished in 1956 should anyone happen to inquire!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
In a beautiful, suburban town,you got very down.
My personal wish is God bring you back from a lockdown attack.
You were caught in a time of confusion and fictional unrest.
Where our minds are not honored
as our bodies attest.
Having no counselor around, you did what you thought was sound.
You are free of a disease children do not get!
But being unfree is like a disease my pet, I admit this with sorrow,
I lived a long life full of hazards far more than you.
But know, sacrificial son, I am more than depressed to live life now as a gorilla in a zoo.
Millions of boys and girls don't die from Covid at all.
Maybe your grandparents, yes, but you did not need to fatally fall.
Teens not even adults are experts at life.
Many adults addicted to flakey strife.
I, personally envy your freedom from this earth.
People are sad, goofy,moronic wearing masks and full of the media's dirt
Thinking any thing will save them.
They forgot to honor a man named, Hashem!
Your parents, friends, family will
miss you.
But meanwhile you are in the arms of God and with angels that love you.
So from me...
I stretch these loving arms to hug you and know you are heavens
new star arrival.
Free are you from earth's deception and guile.
Sacrificial Son, ask God to please help lonely children, like you.
**Tribute to an elementary student who ended his life in a city next to
mine, today. Rest In Peace.
12-2-2020
Off the workplace and throng the streets
Flooding the city with our presence and fleets
We must make the most of this weekly stint
Waiting not for conviction but acting on a hint
For the will to live the living we will
Is but a wish expressed in a window of thrill
Trying to squeeze in things we could relish
Throwing in many a sin and fetish
Living only once one too many times
Guilty of sin but innocent of crimes
And herein is the cradle of many descends
In the anatomy of the weekend
The onslaught on money and dabbling with debt
On pleasure, on a bet, on a toy, on a pet
Trying to show those who don’t care to see
Trying to act what we dream to be
But who can see if we all want to be seen
Everybody out in their lustre, style and sheen
Things of which to speak throughout the week
A talk not for the humble and meek
And it is sad to say of today’s breed
Their word and deed have no creed to heed
Whatever goes, they blend in with the trend
It is the anatomy of the weekend
It seems you’ll get the most out of town
If you just a little let your guard down
And far and wide cast your nets
Magnifying today’s pleasure, diminishing tomorrow’s regrets
And this way we have far too long faired
Desperately needing to be repaired
For we were whole gifts with a topped up token
But we broke, broke the whole and the broken
Yet we blame it for being a cold world
For not a vile world haven’t you hurled
For it’s pleasure you seek than to find a friend
In the anatomy of the weekend
K. Muitherero
I woke up in a dream on a coast I've never seen
But somehow in a way, I knew I'd be here one day
I'm detecting a touch of Spanish, language it is not
All I see is leaving Galleon's, raped, now forgot
I'm seeing centuries before me, colonial now so free
The Japanese like them before, ravaging in spree
On a beach I walk to the light, attracting I to enter
I'm there, as I walk through, my viewing now centred
Into this lush land I walk, not knowing where I'll be
There's something that desires, I'll know when I see
Walking, walking, walking, it's all I appear to do
Clearer my mind becomes, I know I'm walking to you
Further my weakened feet, stride through their weak
I know at the end of my journey, I'll meet whom I seek
A village, a town nears, as I look back to whence I came
Awakening in this dream, praying this person feels the same
.
i take pills for minor headaches
pills for major anxiety
if you've looked out at the world today
then you know i take a lot of these
i take a pill to help with hair growth
i take a pill for my allergies
with the pollutants that are floating in the air
i sometimes find it hard to breath
i take a pill when i need to sleep
another when i need to wake up
the one that i use to sleep with
i take sometimes when times get rough
i take a pill when i get angry
a special one that calms me down
it takes me to a better place
to the very center of happy town
a pill to help with motion sickness
when my world begins to sway
fish oil pills to help with blood flow
plus garlic...to keep the vampires away
i take a pill when i eat something spicy
a pill that helps with gas
a pill when i'm feeling in the mood
that helps the mood to last
i take a pill if i ever forget
to ever take a pill
and if i forget to take the second one
i take two more to relieve my guilt
i guess you get the idea
if not this poem is nil
so i'll just put down my purple nexium pen
and go take another pill
I love you, you’re hot, you do it for me,
You’re perfect on the inside,
All warm and soft and deliciously round,
Your belt has sort of been pied,
And you come to the footy, and also the pub,
You warm me when I am in town,
You warm me in the cold winter months,
You’re a beautiful tanned sort of brown,
And I love sploshing you with all sorts of sauces,
Covering your top in a red,
You’re better than any McDonalds Big Mac,
I think you’re better than bread,
You’re my beautiful steak to beef to chicken,
You can even be filled with lambs fry,
You’re my beautiful hand held wonderful food,
You’re my beautiful crispy meat pie.
Slushbo was called Pinkie back in the “day”
Boys who dated her said “hip, hip hooray!”
She was daring and dashing, and did many great things.
But never was offered a pretty diamond ring.
That’s okay, she said, when I am old I shall live with cats.
She had the best sense of humor in town of Monkey Flats.
Her family and friends laughed until they cried tears.
She jested and joked, amid all kinds of cheers.
You don’t even like cats, her bestie Matilda said.
I shall live with them all over my house ‘til I’m dead!
The friends both thought it was a clever joke and hilarious.
Fifty years later, Shushbo is a cat-lover-nefarious.
She is a real odd one the neighbors whisper to their kin.
Don’t go to her door, they cautioned, she will not let you in.
She’s a witch, a warlock, a crazy old cat-lady for sure.
They have no idea her heart is golden, incredibly pure.
Oil jackpot
When coming home from the ship, his coastal town
was in an uproar from every window, people shouted
and banged pot pans together
People danced in the street, which was unheard of
young people shamelessly made love under oaks
so eagerly that trees that had been around forever
lost their leaves.
At home, his mother hollered, from the window
we are richer than the Americans, wealthier then
the Saudis.
His father said, no point going back to see if we can
Pakistanis and the Philippines for this.
People had forgotten the socialist state had a word
the money made in this bonanza was for future use
the currency was put in a fond, already rich could lend
money, from this fond and get richer.
For the plebs, there was little to gain and as seamen
the ship owners changed their flag and hired people for
a low-priced pay and no vacation
Goodbye Merchant navy, you served the nation well.
I drove back to my childhood home-for a funeral.
I sniffed around some old stomping grounds...
The "monkey trail" was an overgrown path that led to the baseball fields
The first sign of a dying town is to nick it in the vein.
The trains had long ago stopped running.
I was happy the locomotive had croaked.
You see that metal monster ate my puppy a long time ago.
Just around the block from my home,
we used to sneak over the neighbor's fence.
Pinch a few plums, juice running down our virgin mugs.
Munching away the summer months...
The plum tree is gone now,
I wonder if the faceless "plumbers" are still around.
Anyhow, the funeral went off without a glitch
. The holy man was short. Plump and sweet...
I've outlived a cousin, a puppy killer, and an old plumb tree.