This is the story of Norm and Nate,
And Hank Williams, the great balladeer,
And what was to be their horrible fate
As they spun on this rotating sphere.
Nate the needle played hits on a platter,
Spinning the sad songs Norm had made him.
Norm, as they’d say, was mad as a hatter,
But Nate the needle meekly obeyed him.
In a circle, the platter would revolve
As Nate would sing sad sounds he found there,
While Norm, crying bitter tears, would dissolve,
As Hank’s words and voice, he couldn’t bear.
Hank’s million-dollar voice came from on high,
But the Lord gave him a 10-cent head.
He wrote the song, “So Lonesome I Could Cry”
Lamenting leaves that would soon be dead.
On New Year’s, ‘53, Hank Williams died;
Norm could play only that song and not move.
Hank saw the light, while Norm cried and cried,
And Nate was buried in a watery groove.
A Poem For Kristen and Nate
The boys they all loved her
A real Southern Peach.
They wined her and dined her
But she was out of their reach
Ambitious and pretty
She reached for the stars.
But deep in her psyche
She carried some scars.
Life's full of surprises
It's part of the plan.
Her heart was won over,
By a red-headed man.
What was that huge thing leaping over the gate?
My eyes did not lie; it was a gargoyle named Nate.
I had not seen him since my birthday when I was eight.
I asked where he had been, and he showed me a skate.
I have been winning contests around the world now.
The spectators are amazed, and all say, “oh wow!”
I skate with only one skate in Sweden and Glasgow.
I asked him if he still tormented my grandpa’s cow.
Bessie is dead, but there are others I bother.
Last Wednesday I annoyed dreams of your father.
He was always a jokester, my gargoyle named Nate.
I was glad that he had stopped by my garden gate.
I once dated a suave pirate named Nate
He said his dates never had a complaint
Asked me if he could
Show his treasured goods
But seeing more than his gold made me faint
2/22/23
Contest: Put your Best Limerick forward, be like Rico Leffanta Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
( Checked with howmanysyllables)
This was an older one I posted a while back and removed due to work but wanted to post it again for the contest.
Nate Love
After being freed from slavery,
Became the most famous black cowboy in history.
But the cause of his death stayed a mystery.
SPONTANEOUS TATE AND PROCRASTINATE
Spontaneous Tate and Procrastin Nate,
brothers getting ready for a special date.
Tate said “Nate, there's lots to do.”
Nate said, “Yes, I know! Just worry about you!”
Tate said “Nate, oh my, just look at the time.”
Nate said “Hey man, it's on my mind!”
Tate said, “I fear we'll meet our doom,
if we're not ready by a quarter of noon.”
Finally Nate looked up, just minutes before the hour,
Tate was already groomed, when Nate hit the shower,
Nate's chance was missed, he was left behind,
Tate made the date, forever danced and dined.
The lesson to learn, taught to us by Tate,
Be spontaneous to the call of Christ, never ever procrastinate.
Thomas Nate Turner only knew gloom
For "TNT" there was not much room
If one mistake
He was to make
Then he just might fall down and go BOOM!
There once was a man named Nate
Not usually known for being late
But he drank too much egg nog
Ended up in a fog
And never showed up for his date
Heidi Sands
12/8/17
Hurricane Harvey landed his punches to the left of me
Irma struck with fierce winds and rain; havoc on my right
I escaped the wrath of those hellions ~ now there's Nate.
Nate formed in an unusual area, not known for brutal storms,
but he's coming for a visit soon. I hope he doesn't stay around
very long. I didn't invite him to my city, so he's being rude
by showing up this weekend and ruining everyone's plans.
I pray he's not as devastating as the evil two he follows,
but hurricanes do as they please. Wham! Bam! What a mess...
putting us all under stress.
He'll huff and puff and try to blow my house down.
He seems to be in a hurry cuz he's moving with some speed.
I'll be glad to see the tail end of him. A one-eyed cyclops,
a meanie and a fiend, who'll probably rob me of my power.
If you don't see me around, you know where I can be found...
sweltering in New Orleans heat because Nate visited my town.
10/6/17
Torrential rain
stabs at the ground as
I stand here still wearing shock
like a soldier in
war torn uniform
So recent was
the surgery that
removed
your lifeless body from mine
leaving me newly
without you
My wound fresh
my mind dazed
from blood soaking battle
I hear the Rabbi speaking
and see your
little
pine
coffin
as it is lowered
into the dirt
I know
so
well
your soul
that left
and
your
body
within it
wearing a tiny shirt
an embroidered teddy bear
sewn on the front
I dig the silver shovel
into the earth and lift
it toward
your resting place
I toss
the cold
damp
earth
gently
and as it lands
I lean forward
for a last
sight of you
though you can never again be seen
and suddenly my
words of my love of you
become louder than the
deafening rain,
my silence shattered
by my tormented
shout
beneath our
green tented covering
flapping in the wind
under the
sobbing skies
Nate; Poetry by
Susan M. Walker, 2014
I do not understand just how it could be wrong,
for Americans to have Health Care in order to be strong?
To assure each one of us "You'll receive a decent wage"
work hard, save money eradicate inner rage
We've come so far, ignoring the threats of war
but admit, we're divided, more than ever before
I know that we will "get there" it's in the hand of fate
The only thing that scares me are the eyes on the face of Nate
There once was a lad named Nate
Who in the spelling bee did participate
But the audience did blush
As poor Nate got flush
After failing to spell constipate
Singing
With tears
In your eyes
As you stared at me
With the most caring gaze.
Your childhood
Sung in sweet lyrics,
They lingered in my ears
As my throat began to tighten
With sadness.
What's that, dear?
Your parents beat you?
Never a word spoken
To anyone?
It made you a better man?
No dear,
It caused horrid memories.
Your father
Brought you to a bar
And let his friends beat you
With bottles?
My dear
Sweet Nate,
Keep singing.
Your mother
Was addicted to drugs
And violence?
What ever happened
To her?
She's buried six feet under?
What about your father?
Prison
With the other abusive men?
Scars
Dug deep
In your skin
Jump to my sight
As I quietly whimper
With your soft voice.