Long Yowling Poems
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7/14/2025
Oh, how could this have ever happened here?
A free naton with baseball, movies and beer?
Those days when other nations cry against the USA…….DIE?
I think on tha, when we turned far left… America’s very soul died.
Those who so loathe and hate our free nation.
Created conspiracy theories,like…boll weevils.
They would do anything to destroy this nation and make America evil?
None of us realizing, how this would divide all of us.
A necrotic snake filled some, like decaying green pus.
And the proof is in the yowling streets of PA is heard .
Of misled shouts of hate, like some insane, hysterical, mysteriuos birds.
Many people died but many unaware, people could care less!
They much prefer riotinh and lies and walk in a state of mental undress.
Our streets full of both USA and Israeli shrill haters.
In masks and flags,green flafs~ such insane, victim baiters.
That “religious” mantra shouted aboard the 9/11 plaines,
Rings in my tender ears, like an exploding, crashing train.
The car crashed with death.
The force of fate could not hold the wheels.
Our sky shattered to million pieces hither and thither...........
My wife died.
An ear splitting yowling reverberant sound silenced all.
A blue flash of lightning suddenly disappeared.
A curtain of pain fell upon our window panes,
and stumbling in darkness, we skittered on.
With crunched bones, calloused palms dazed in bloody horror,
our lurched heart rendered a numbing pain...
a pain that could be heard when my two year old asks, "Where's mummy gone?"
She had created our sky, lighted it with love
the moon turned black, blown off by a bomb.
I show my son, a star which is now his mom.
Dated 28th April 2019
Originally submitted to two contests where it was NA
But it was written with lot of emotions from my side and I expected that many people should be able to relate with the story of some friend or family where a small child is deprived love of a mother lost to cruel hands of destiny, accident or disease
RESUBMITTED to Contest --Applicable Not Applicable Contests
Sponsor Richard Lamoureux
Some cat entered my room one night
I thought it was a ghost
It smelled like something had just died
But I must oblige my guest as the host
I turned on the light and there it was
An obnoxious opossum at best!
Whoa! Forget my host duties, cous!
Take the room—I’m an unhappy guest!
I left the house with a shutter
Before I realized I was heavily surrounded
By cats on all sides, up and under
The house they had all just rounded!
In truth I was perturbed on all levels
That I began to realize in horror
That damn opossum had spawned these little devils!
And tonight I must end this terror!
I then ran straight to the kitchen
Aware of the opossum inside
If I give up the tuna and ditch um’
Perhaps I’ll escape this night alive
The persistent cats scratched at the holes
Those buggers—those meddlers!
They could have been thieves—if not trolls!
Their yowls would scare sumo wrestlers!
Worst of all in this dilemma
Tomorrow was grocery day
There were no more cans of tuna
All my fish had swam away!
Somehow one got in
And the rest came barreling through
I ran toward my room to him
The opossum looked so distressed and blue
The little beady eyes pierced my soul
And I knew from then on he was my friend
He only meant to hide from the furry little trolls
And escape a most pitiful end!
I made up my mind at last
And picked up my trusty broom
Come on in—I dare yah tah pass!
Ain’t no feline coming through this room!
Glowing eyes burned with intent
And the yowling grew loud as hell
The little bullies think they can take my guest!
They’ll fly like birds they will!
That night was a battle like none other
A battle I will proudly say I won
I gained the friend of my life—a brother
My pet’s a load of fun!
As much as I love a neighbor cat
They are a little scary as a race
Thankfully a broom will push them back
And put them in their place
My opossum is a sweet little thing
And I protect him with my life
I’ll never judge a critter again
Till actions bring it to light
I must say that in my four score years I've done it all and seen it all,
But in the autumn of my life, noxious noises drive me up the wall!
I like the soothing sound of most music and birds trilling in the trees,
But, Lord, spare me the wheezing of those bagpipes, if you please!
I like the sound of thunder and the rain falling softly on my roof,
But I could strangle the neighbor for letting his mutt yap and woof!
I can tolerate classical music until the prima donna Madame Zaria,
Begins to belt out her raucous contralto in an intolerable aria!
A most trying nuisance and I suppose one of my biggest gripes,
Are kids with boom boxes and their jalopies with those roaring pipes!
I don't mind the occasional rumbling of a train or the screaming jets,
But when dining I suffer acid reflux hearing inane cell phone vignettes!
I've got a bone to pick with the inventor of the wailing saxaphone!
That and the squeaking of a clarinet are more than I can condone!
I like western musical harmony sung by "The Sons Of The Pioneers."
But spare me those "She Done Me Wrong Songs" - they aggravate my ears!
Why can't folks keep their cats inside so they aren't yowling on my lawn,
And a hex on the dude revving his Harley Davidson waking me at dawn!
I reckon before I blow a gasket or worse yet lose my poise,
I'd better rush out and buy some ear plugs to stifle that noxious noise!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
It was a howling kind of day
I felt it in my bones.
A wolf like yip would not wake it up
It was an azure Monday
Pure but not simple
She looked at me with her baby blues
A fresh start, a new day, a new week!
Enthusiasm coursed through me.
I felt renewed, refreshed.
A yowling day, one designed by the gods
Or goddess, in my case.
A warrior woman who sheared the rest of the days
Out of the way swiftly with her lance.
Scooping the heads of the other days into the sea
So we could begin anew
Wolf man and I howled into the day
Her face broke across the horizon in a wide smile
Sun light flooded the meadow.
Monday at last!
Part 3
9th Delerium: Emptyness
Water wheels in wastelands... turning,
drowning relics in the slum
Rumpled rags of fashioned burlap... burning,
lit by bandits blind and dumb
Pastured prisons, ponies bridled ... yearning,
forest fairies under thumb
Sounds inside of cauldrons coughing... churning,
blaring bugles, tattooed drum
10th Delirium: Alienation
Rain unravelling, wistfully weeping... falling,
treacle trickling, fickle sky
Mushrooms sprinkled, visions sprouting... sprawling,
seagulls drowning, dolphins die
Rabble gasping, spirits broken... crawling,
lonely lonesome swallows cry
Babbling brooks and breakers ebbing... bawling
puppies paddle, puppets sigh
People passing ripple past me... calling,
rainbow colours, collars high
Chaos seething, lepers looting... stalling,
stealing stallions on the sly
Pencils pausing, scholars scrambling... scrawling,
scratching scribbles, asking why
11th Delirium: Jetsam
Silver sails sway pallid pirates... prowling,
Jolly Rogers, wind and sound
Parrots perching, tattered feathers... fouling,
tethered talons, tied and bound
Shipwrecked foghorns, trumpets stranded... howling,
spiral springs of time unwound
Magic moonlight, shimmers shaking... scowling,
burnt out matchsticks washed aground
Prairie wolfs, coyotes calling... yowling,
witching hours, midnight hounds
Tightrope walkers, grizzlies grunting... growling,
seeking islands, lost and found
12th Delirium: Relief
Slumber shattered, vapours captive... haunting,
chained in mirrors, breaking free
Scarlet skylines, daylight dawning... daunting,
rivers rushing to the sea
Silence softens, sandmen whisper... wanting,
piercing rafters, turning keys
Shadows shudder, notions fluster... flaunting,
moonbeam bullets meant for me
Mind in migraine, meadows trembling... taunting,
sparrows speak in harmony
REAWAKENING
Pitter patter, teardrops paling... pearling,
salting scarves in secret drawers
Mist amongst us, smoke rings rising... curling,
climbing from the ocean floors
See-saw circles, senses swerving... swirling,
swept away with silver oars
Courtyard jesters, sceptres twisting... twirling,
push the past to foreign shores
Passing pangs of passions heaving... hurling,
burning bridges, closing doors
Roses wither, icons waning... whirling,
time decays and time restores
End
Some people don’t hike through the wood,
especially on All Hallows Eve.
Ghosts of boys and girls of good
float at the campfire, if you believe.
Elves and pixies dance through the trees,
with taunting, mocking, and leering.
They swing and sway in the brash breeze,
their faces frighteningly jeering.
What was that? The crack in the wind
unleashes demons and banshees!
Their hideous yowling will send
even the bravest to their knees.
Ghosts and goblins arise from their graves,
harmonize in a cacophonous chant.
Don’t try to hide in the darkened caves.
They’ll find you in their raucous rant.
They’ll steal your bones with giggling glee
and make toothpicks with your ribs.
Quickly now, turn. Run, and flee
before they find you and call out “Dibs!”
Birthstones and horoscopes over a chi-square
Months with periscopes everywhere
Moon and Sun in shaded segments
Boon and pun in braided alignments
Spells and pleas yowling in the wilderness
Wells or seas swigging in emptiness
Thoughts wandering around
Droughts and dryness seething in a playground
Warmth or heat you nestled from scorching daylight
Cold air or dew drop sighed by moonlight
Wall clock that restricts your borrowed time
Or unseen counter that predicts your stolen dime
Each day that passes by
All day you ask without a bye
Each night that crawls in the dark
All your might you grope behind a scalded bark
Shadows that follow you
Wedge pillows you never had that haunt you
Tales in dreams that smother you
Puzzles in reams that harrow you...
Why bother when there's none to fear?
Fear only God who's able to hear
Your qualms will never leave you
Only until you believe they're never yours that weave you!
A bad winter
the worst since the last one.
The camp had lost its children and horses
now the owl sees her last step.
Separated, not expelled in disgrace,
but her tribe disenthralled,
deprived of care
by deaths unremitting cull.
She, the last to stumble away
from the brow-beaten village
knowing there were no more paths
for her in this bleak land.
Only the moon was not cruel,
its wane glow
lit her up like its own shadow
in the yowling dark.
Now only the owl does not hunt her.
She knows that if she ever saw herself,
so weary and close to the bone,
she would think of herself as prey,
She would let fly one last arrow
for a piercing end, and
let the owl see what it may.
Soldier,
age 23,
interest in veterinary science.
Shot
back of the head.
Political affiliation
never mattered.
Lies still in an open casket,
draped over with an American flag.
How patriotic.
How patronizing.
Lover,
left of mother, right of father.
Me, observer,
bearing flowers.
Priest, front and center,
babbling on, reading
the same old retired lines,
dust to dust,
ash to ash,
and the like.
Bagpipes play.
Twenty-one gun salute rings out,
echoing in the hollow hearts
of family members.
I drop the newspaper containing
the boy’s obituary.
Can’t remember why I came,
wanted to pay respects.
The best thing a brother can do
is leave roses,
wilting like the paper beneath
my feet,
crumpling like his mother
on her knees now, crying.
I begin to cry, too.
Not for the boy,
more for the people who knew him.
Good man.
Too young.
Wanted to help animals.
Animals are probably locked in a cage
somewhere, yowling the same way
the ravens perched and pecking
at the ground are.
They are hungry for flesh,
the same way the dirt is,
the same way old men
who start wars are.
Nobody needs to die,
foolish, worthless, unnecessary.
The reward for a life well lived
seems to be a gravestone
with your name written on it
in a margin far too small
to capture the complexity
of what you stood
and now lie for.
What will they do
when there is nobody left to kill?
Weep?
As if they could.
The next time God floods the world,
it will be with the tears of the lonely,
and the vermin who made them feel
that way in the first place
will drown.
Angel flies overhead,
wearing uniform.
Hope lives on
even when the goodness
cannot.
Hope lives on
even when the goodness
cannot.
Believe that.
Please.
I know I will,
at least I will after I’ve finished
crying.