Long Wholesome Poems
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"Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words, after all,
but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as
necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry."
— Mary Oliver
Sacred poetry feeds the soul, like slow rhythms of ever green nature,
And the heartbeat's anticipation of sooner, finding satisfaction in later.
Anything is possible in verse, as it flows from fanciful, unbound mind,
Giving sublime inspiration and comfort, in vibrant styles, one of a kind.
Poetry is as vital to wholesome living, as is pursuing your rosy dream,
Though the sun reigns at lemon noonday, under thick clouds of cream!
When you find yourself wandering, poesy rhythm will guide your feet,
In the dance of self discovery and insight, which makes life complete.
Poetry warms eager hearts steadily, and adds pure romance to living,
Like gazing at the twinkling Milky Way, and stars which keep on giving.
Written on 11/24/2022
For: Poetry is a life-cherishing force
Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Big white clock is bored
With the uniformity of time
Flowing unnoticeably every day
Always the same tedious way
The clock has been sitting there
From the dawn of the time
Meticulously marking steps of
Hours minutes, and seconds
Till it could no longer bear
The meaningless existence
Of being a humdrum machine
One day the clock decided to try
Something a little bit different
A tiny experiment of stretching
Its' frame to right which resulted
In arrow of seconds slowing down
Then bending sharp to the left
The arrow of minutes jumped up
Clock excitedly slid down fast
Speeding up hourly flow of time
Then lazily went back to primal
Initial smooth fixed steady pace
Bringing time flow back to
Normal rhythm of the day
But now the clock felt inspired
So it tried to wrinkle the frame
Excitedly flipping upside down
Which resulted in unexpected flow
Of time acquiring velocity of its own
Detaching itself from the constant
Existence of space and swiftly
Rolling down the edge of a cliff
Clock fell into the dark precipice
Opening the heavy infinity doors
Where the clock hasn’t been before
In the pitch darkness it felt lost
Trying to catch the evading time
With the arrows arms like spread
Flapping through empty space
But time was evading the clock
Excited and free it mischievously
Played spellbound hide and seek
With the desperate clumsy clock
Which felt confused and scared
The world felt hopelessly lost
For the lonely terrified clock
The clock could no longer grasp
The wholesome consistency of time
Which was racing in its own speed
In infinite universe so the clock
Had to find out the way to catch
The time and make it uniform again
Feeling guilty of such a foolish attempt
To test things that should not have
Been controlled and questioned
Deeply repenting crooked clock
Tried to get back to its original form
Restoring smooth round shape
Straightening three bent black arrows
Tuning seconds minutes and hours
Recovering the consistency of time
That always flies by in the same
Monotonous predictable way
The clock swore never to
Experiment ever again
Being just a humble guardian
Of time instead of
Trying to manipulate it
I've traveled from the farm in Indiana, the place of my humble birth,
To places I never dreamed of seeing all around this earth!
On ships, trains and airplanes visiting fascinating ports of call,
And dining in hoity-toity eateries, more than I can ever recall!
I've dined on such exotic dishes as Beef Eterhazy and Athenian Moussaka,
Nasi Goreng, Halibut Cheeks, Paht Thai and Linguine Bugatta;
Linguine Primavera, Mahi Mahi, Lobster Thermidor and Cordon Blue,
Canard a L'Orange, Chateaubriand and savory Fillet of Wahoo!
I enjoyed those epicurean delights, but they'll never compare,
To the simple, wholesome dining on good old country fare!
I salivate thinking about a heaping plate of cornbread and beans,
With a salad on the side of fresh garden picked lettuce greens!
I drool just thinking about a hearty meal of meat and taters,
With stuff fresh from the garden like sweet peas and 'maters,
Home-made oven baked biscuits and heaps of fried chicken.
Ah, the very thought makes my old ticker begin to quicken!
Just to contemplate a repast of Bermuda onions and fried liver,
Gets my mouth watering and sets my old bones aquiver!
May you enjoy your Pate de Fois Gras at the country club;
I'll settle anytime for good old nourishing country grub!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Talent of gold
What with mights seem, do I know a speed of power
Like the back of my hand, a proper promise is coming for a universal soul
Am I a friend, lover, or foe of what was my gift of a flower?
Mystified?
The unknown is a patience of a levity to commit to sanity, a childhood
Chaste to me, a wholesome smiles season, is to witness the force of love to divine
The problems, the potential, and the passion to show the nothingness of good
Wink at how, a sublime conclusion of never happens, in the eye of the mind
Share the awe, or bespeak the devil's odd, my name for a sought have
Is to come in the voice of heed we know, has a moment to see the wishes of trying
Please sake the please I keep, the name I give is the hosting of a savior
Waiting on acts of a universe?
Save us the time to look beyond the aches, pains and death of many loves to live
With themselves and the notion of power to be a free gift, of better, normal, or worse
Faith, do I seem to be real enough to compose a shadow as a willing story of deeds to give?
Have a heart everyone knows is for a hidden chance of paradise to complete a world's stare
Misery before kindness, kisses of privilege before light's agony revealed, before's reality
As fate would have it, a truthful flower is my naked resolve to rely on senses of a quiet fare
Spit in the eye from a noble God, is hate coming of age as loves belief in health's surreality?
Remember me
Remember me, I'll remember you,
When life loses motility
Whilst stormy winds screech, disturbing peace
Across lakes of tranquility.
Reach out for me and I'll take your hand
When you’ve lost the will or the way
I am the candle that lights the dark
When’re demeanour goes astray.
Remember me when you cannot sleep
And dreams begin to fade away
When you feel you cannot make it through
I’m right beside you, night or day.
Reach for me when in need of a hug
Tired of being on your lonesome
My arms will hold you in tenderness
Till once more life becomes wholesome.
Remember me when you need a friend
Reach me somewhere o'er rainbows end.
4th January 2021
The sun burns bright over Summer seen.
Couture-rays of extended happiness shed
no grateful rain in perfect paradise.
Flight of pumping legs and catching scent—
uncontainable rush of God’s perfume.
Honeysuckle’d kids wholesome delight
in the oxygenated swinging space
where red and blue,
and holy wings glide through
to glimpse of heaven and Summer’s wane.
Soon snow must surely fall from the sun
in dark and ice cold rays.
In Summer seen
and Summer’s wane,
let’s nudge each chin
left and right,
down and up.
Let green eyes
know of paradise.
9/22/2021
Radical sounds like those 60’s kids
Who wanted to end the war or inequality
And used bombs to do it
Or at least used bombs to express their earnestness.
So in the context of the Right
Maybe a radical would sit
Outside or in an abortion clinic
And pray really hard.
Somehow it just doesn’t sound the same,
But both kinds of radicals
Are trying to change the world.
The far-right on the other hand,
As the far end of the political spectrum
Which has total government at one end
And zero government the other,
Is the side that values freedom
In the pursuit of Life, Liberty and Happiness
As long as no one is harmed in this individual pursuit.
To do this, traditional values
Like faith, family and country are prized.
And they are done by simply living naturally
Not trying to change anything or anyone.
Now if this sounds radical,
Something has gone wrong, radically wrong.
And yet “far-right” is often used disparagingly
When what it is is good old wholesome values,
You know, ones that far-right revolutionary
Thomas Jefferson proudly proclaimed.
And the beauty of his proclamation
Is that it included all of US.
What are the alternatives to far right or left?
I know people who say a middle of the road position
Is the political sweet spot,
The natural position of the smart and sane.
But what does this middle ground mean?
Does it mean a little socialism with a little capitalism,
A little nation building with a little isolationism
A little gun control with a limited range of guns
A little censorship with a little free speech
A lot of taxes with a little fiscal restraint
A lot of tyranny with a little freedom
A lot of crime with a little support for the rule of law
A lot of anti-Americanism with a little patriotic celebration?
Somehow a middle position just sounds like a comprise
Designed to keep everyone happy
Which of course in the real world
Is just another pipe dream.
I think in the real world
There will always be winners and losers
And there is nothing wrong
With having your favorites in this contest.
I know I’d rather support the law over criminals
The individual over the collective
Sound money over debt
Peace over war
And freedom over slavery,
Any day, but hey,
I guess that makes me of the far-right.
(10/10/25)
Prayed & prayed
Years of misery
Each day of agony
Yearning for a woman
Come into my world
Ask God to send me a
Angel,
Wholesome submissive
Respectful nurturing
Loving kind hearted
Cause 2-1=1 all by myself
Committed to hell
Suffering in silence
best ain’t good enough
Love hard not good enough
Vindictiveness subdue my pride
Manipulation got my mental in a gridlock
Illusion flake my reality
Lord please help
Weak flesh tied me to wickedness
Sociopath ascending on Vernon
Poison my thrill
The thrill is gone
At the lowest
Looking outside myself
My covenant
Spirit check out
Searching for connect
Connect with my true half
Starving for newness
Wishing on a star
When a change to come
Ahhh... close my eyes
Visualize her
Pecan smooth skin
Angelic smile
Crying inside
She out there somewhere
Lord guide me
Blessed the day
She my world
Thrilled my soul at peace
Reset on happiness
Pause on misery
New faze begun
Heartthrobs like king
Solomon’s
Some people frankly write about their quirks.
If I had any, I would tell you so.
Though no outlandish trait within me lurks,
some folks think I’m a nut. What do they know?
Why do they criticize when I engage
in conversations with myself. What’s wrong
with them? Also, they frequently enrage
me, looking shocked when I burst into song
while jogging through the neighborhood at night
clad in my red muu-muu and army boots.
I overhear them saying, “What a sight!”
I live around mean-spirited old coots!
My grandkids, too, think my behavior strange.
because I check the stove repeatedly
(I must be SURE it’s off!) and rearrange
my papers fifteen times. They’re irked at me
when I repeat myself five times a day.
I do this for THEIR benefit! They just
do not appreciate wise things I say.
One learns by repetition; it’s a MUST.
I surely hope I’ve made this crystal clear:
I have no oddball quirks; I’m truly blessed
with wholesome traits that, I feel, should endear
me to all those who criticize and jest!
FICTIONAL (well--some of it))
Date written and posted: February 6, 2018
Contest Title: Quirks Placed 5th (of ten)
Sponsor: Madison Demetros
April 10, 2019, entered in Richard Lamoureau's Poem of the Day Contest
When I received this honor--POTD February 8, 2018--I was over the MOON!
Have you kept who you are?
Do I know your name?
Never too near… never too far
Nothing ever stays the same
I want to know who I am
Do you know enough to tell me?
If you have a way… I have a plan
Will you not know me to make me see?
Perhaps I rather be unknown
A restless stranger in wholesome intimacy
A someone with no one home
A naturalist in every expectancy
Do you know that someone?
With that certainty and that confusion?
A somewhere with nowhere to run
A someone formed from that one implosion
Do you dare to know who you are?
Do you know my name?
Ever too near… never too far
Everything never stays the same