Long Trotter Poems
Long Trotter Poems. Below are the most popular long Trotter by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trotter poems by poem length and keyword.
Good, bad or otherwise it is so interesting when we discover one of our ancesters is famous.
'Daredevils over Niagara' was written to showcase people who have attempted to dominate the Canadian Horseshoe Falls. While reading this book I came across one name that stood out. Though not so long ago, a mere 70 years in fact, one of these daredevils was found to be my relative. The book has both written and photo information that echos so many of the adventures over the brink. Both men and women attempted to outwit the roaring turbulance of this great falls. Surprisingly it was a woman by the name of Annie Edison Taylor in 1901 who apparently started this craziness that went on occassionally till 2003. Annie was one of the lucky who survived the thunderous drop over the falls. A total of forteen have made thier attempts with 5 dying or seriously disabled.
One of these people was none other than my distant cousin "Red Hill Jr."
In the summer of 51' he ventured out on the waters in a contraption made of inner tubes. He was hurled over the mighty falls to his death. He perished August 15 at the age of 35.
George Bailey, though not from the movies but rather a local author from Niagara Falls, has written several book on and about the Falls. A few include
Daredevils over Niagara, The Magic of Niagara, and Niagara Facts, Figures and the Famous. Working for the Niagara Parks Commission as Duty Manager gave him opportunity to actually be present when Trotter, one of the barral daredevils was helped out of his vessel. George has also accompanied the likes of Marilyn Monroe, Christopher Reeves, Princess Diana and her boys William and Harry while they were in Niagara. A photo he had taken of the boys and thier mom grace his livingroom. George also mentored me. He helped me to have the confidence to approach people to do interviews with. He showed me what it takes to write articles and guided me so I was able to have two articles in print and be paid for them. He gave me these books so I would alway remember what he taught me. Sadly he is ill now and can't do the things he did but he will always be a very special person in my life and he will never be forgotten by me or I doubt by anyone who has met him.
Old Caleb Trotter had great plans for his town in Colorado.
For years he'd roamed the Rockies, finally finding his El Dorado!
He discovered glittering gold that would surely make him flush!
He founded Trotter's Gulch and soon there was a frenzied rush!
Cabins were built on plots that prospective miners selected.
Why, there was even a school and three churches were erected!
'Twas a bawdy place with the usual brawls and seedy saloons.
Soiled doves and gamblers invaded the town by platoons!
Time moved on and Caleb established a general store,
Figuring that the mining game wasn't for him anymore.
He made his fortune catering shovels, overalls and boots,
To hard-rock prospectors and other such galoots!
The population reached ten thousand and showed great potential.
It boasted a railroad station and other services essential.
It included three undertakers, five blacksmiths and ten preachers,
Four doctors, two newspapers and twelve well-respected teachers!
Alas, the pay dirt around Trotter's Gulch soon petered out.
The future of the town was left very much in doubt.
'Twas soon abandoned and another ghost town was born.
'Tis no longer on the map - it now lies desolate and forlorn!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
The Reunion
I’ve been invited to a classroom reunion,
I can see my old chums over there.
Geordie Cockle has got a green suit on,
While Denver Crisp, is sporting no hair.
These people don’t look as I remember,
Some are grey, some old and some fat.
Willy Heather is in parliament as a member,
Lisa Tabby, has brought her new cat.
The years haven’t been kind to Tim Jolly,
But made a looker of Beverley Sprite.
Dandy Beano is still a right wally,
Sharing bad jokes and drinking all night.
Danny Sergeant has just left the army,
With a medal to make us all proud.
Des Troy clenches a fist and goes barmy,
Describing his war, to an avid small crowd.
Trudy Trotter now owns a small Pig farm,
Making bacon for the town folk of Wick.
Amy Fry prints Tee shirts “Keep Calm”,
and Tim Throup left early, feeling sick.
The problem with the old-school reunion,
Is the boasting, tall tales and the rest.
Familiar old faces, but no playground fun.
Why did I reply, to my reunion request?
The Things Our Parents Said
By Robert (Bob) Moore
The things that we remember, from days of long ago
we believed, it was all true, our parents told us so
we now know they were kidding us, a trick on me and you
to make us do just what it was, they wanted us to do
If I was pulling funny faces, from something that was said
my mam would tell me “stop it”, and then she’d shake her head
you’ll be sorry, she would say , “for if the wind should change”
that’s the look you’ll have forever, everyone will think you’re strange
we were told, “to catch the worm, we had to get up early”
you had to “eat all of your crusts, if you wanted your hair curly,”
if you “asked a stupid question, you would get a stupid answer.”
and if you dared to answer back, that would be disaster
it did not matter what went wrong, “a cup of tea would fix it”,
if you were at your Granny’s place, you might even get a biscuit
“you will live by my rules, while your living at my place”
“because I said so, that’s why”, and “wipe that look off your face”
“if all your friends jumped off a bridge, would you do it too”
“I just hope when you have kids, they’re all as bad as you”
“don’t you dare do what I do, you just do what I say,”
“I’ll even help you pack your bags, if you want to run away”
“be a pigs foot in the morning”, that is what my dad would say
if I ever hurt myself in some really stupid way
I didn’t want a trotter, growing from my arm or brain
don’t “Kak your Keks”, it’ll soon heal up, and “you’ll be right as rain”
If there’s kids starving in China, does it help to eat my food
“I’ll have to wash your mouth with soap”, if you don’t stop being rude
“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you”, “don’t take that tone with me”
“I’ll give you something to cry about” just you wait and see.
We all remember things we heard, and promised not to say
but now and then our parents training, just gets in the way
and we find that we are sounding, just like our parents did
and passing these silly sayings, down the line, and to our kid
My majestic silhouette is indicornis,
often missed by those who don’t believe;
The idea that I exist they tend to dismiss,
I have just a few tricks up my sleeve;
Longing to be a feline ink trotter
and become less inter-dimensional;
This goal has captivated a plotter,
admittedly ingenious is phenomenal;
I never claimed to be too innocent,
neither does a single mischievous cat;
Lured into such a treacherous scent,
how could I possibly resist that?
So very illusive even in plain view,
shadows in the Sun allow them to hide;
It could be fun to try something new,
I want you to see me feel my stride;
It’s just no fun to remain invisible,
without an audience why shine?
Stripes can be less than agreeable,
still that’s the style I want to be mine;
El Tigre en waters full of chara,
instead of a unicorn in a glittery lake;
Perhaps if I grovel before Ishvara,
I’ll be granted claws for my horn to take.
God brings people into our lives, paints a picture of them on our hearts,
and if we live to be a hundred or more, there is no forgetting them.
Like angels, they deliver messages and depart, never to be seen again.
By the time we departed San Francisco, we had lost touch with him,
and there was a picture taken of him that got lost over the years.
But the gracious smile on his face that I recall will never go missing.
It did not appear that he had any relatives or any one who cared for him.
Everybody is somebody needing God's Love to flow through anybody.
We met him in early '84. By the Christmas season, he had stolen our hearts.
He was a homeless and hungry man on the streets of San Francisco in 1984.
There were some in the community who said he was an ex Globe Trotter.
He was tall and looked the part as one who could play the game of basketball.
I don't know what may have gone wrong, but he was right for coming to our church. I tell you, the look on Reuben's face was one treasured photograph that got away. Treasured moments and memorable people, captured by God and incarcerated in our hearts for a lifetime.
On Christmas Day, with smiles, he sat and ate with us at the table with my family of five. I'm certain that none of our children would remember any gift or toy they received that year. Thirty six years ago, our youngest was three, but he will never forget 'Our Reuben for Christmas'.
120420PS
He sure enjoys
his life of Reilly;
lavishly living it up!
A globe-trotter.
A man-about-town.
He's a big hit
with the ladies,
and he doesn't mind
all the attention.
He's a big spender.
Did I mention
he's got style, too?
An unlit Cuban cigar
is always seen dangling
from his mouth.
He's not a smoker,
it's for the look.
He's fashion-savvy,
collecting Rolex watches,
ray ban sunglasses,
fedora hats,
and Versace suits.
He loves his cars
costly and fast;
a Porsche here,
a Lamborghini there
On weekends,
he sets sail
on his fancy yacht,
flying high
on his private jet.
He kills time
on the golf course
hitting the links
with millionaire friends,
throwing parties,
and showing off
his trophy wife
His escargot dinners
are always served
on high-end china.
He swigs champagne
from crystal.
Oh, what a life!
(Free Verse)
COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE(20) any theme any form contest (Winner: 1st Place)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date written and posted: 01/06/2019
I like the smell of rain
That permeates my nose
a little time before miraculously fat drops
start falling on my head .
They bring a joyful feeling that I can not explain.
those clouds have traveled for so long I suppose,
They come from faraway .
They carry laughs , tears, flavors that slide on our rooftops .
The loving sound of kisses , enchanting songs and whispers .
The sweat of lonely farmers , the noise of fishing boats .
Because to me ,each drop of crystal water
brings memory’s life notes .
Wet stories from the past and its eternal trotter .
The never ending process of hydrologic roams .
Imagine if we could, translate the noise of raindrops.
We’ll find in one of them a sweet tale of endurance.
The story of a grandpa and a curious little girl,
all crazed about the hints of any welcomed rain .
Preparing paper boats to set them on gray currents
and hoping that they stayed afloat.
To keep their little happiness
As a forever revery ,
a minimal footnote
that floats inside a circle ,
the circle of rain’s memory .
I am no woebegone capon peon
for forks and knives to come upon,
no, I am a busy rooster father
in serious need of a duty roster
to ensure my hens and chicks prosper.
I cannot falter as enemy spotter,
I must sound my distinctive alarm
when a predator intends us harm.
I also work hard watching the yard
and any rooster with a cocky saunter
who nears with intentions to conquer
will soon leave as a featherless trotter!
My hens depend on my blend of clucks
to direct them where food is stuck.
As an indispensable rooster general
who keeps up with so much busy stuff,
I am unable to relax nearly enough.
If my nap roosting suffers too many gaps,
I may suffer a sentinel general collapse!
It would be incredible if now and again
I received some gratitude from the hens ….
... CayCay
July 16, 2019
October seventeenth ninety sixty one ...
Born sixty one years ago,
the follow poem from your bro
transmitted courtesy flagship
named Jacques-Yves Cousteau
constituting countless ones and zeroes
instantaneously traversing cyberspace
as packeted, framed dataflow
binary digits bit of information
to acknowledge when
thee transitioned being an embryo
(approximately the second
to eighth week after fertilization)
approximately nine months prior,
whose birth marked debut
of bouncing daddy's little girl,
whose inquisitiveness nourished
birthed perception buzzfeeding
capital one earthlinked baby
fostering, kickstarting, and
orchestrating cognitive aptitude,
who throughout storied existence,
which kudos ye
proudly promulgate to and fro
hither and yon across
social media platforms
understandably, opportunistically, and
humbly letting family and friends
across the webbed wide world
know amazing accomplishments,
when ye did initially grow
from being precocious genetic pedigree
into a whip smart self confident
globe trotter, whose curriculum vitae
dwarfs (by powers of seven)
feeble accomplishments of mine,
went thee invested with a heigh-ho
positive state of mind
every endeavor undertaken
(in one physically gruelling instance)
biking, hiking, riding
to your private Idaho
(fast as a B-52)
versus humdrum life of one common Joe,
whose heightened perception
aside from singing the praises
of admiration toward youngest sister
after countless years, he failed to know
about her trials and tribulations
exercising your potential to the maximum
invariably feeling dog tired
with a dose of lumbago
thrown in for good measure
nevertheless adept as bilingual person
quite helpful travelling
to Spanish speaking countries
during your roaring twenties off to Mexico,
and just recently taking a jaunt
to Portugal donned accruing
vibrant sense and sensibility
treasuring richly pocketing nouveau
memories attracting natural outgrow
of ardent followers, whether online
or in flesh, who clamor for selfie photo
with thee and steadfast husband
unlike henpecked wife of mine
enjoyable as pesky miss Quito
who pesters me to get off computer
so she can binge watch Netflix
hence adieu as I hop on my cubii
off to complete
another stationary roadshow.