British-born Kenyan
adventureress globe-trotter
one of the first bush pilots
aviatrix authoress game-spotter
a woman before her time
through and through
who had simultaneous affairs
with Prince Henry, Duke of Gloucester
(son of George V)
his older brother Edward, Prince of Wales
(later Edward VIII)
and Denys Finch Hatton too
the Kenya Derby a six-time winner
as an unrivaled thoroughbred racehorse trainer
whom my Dad at EAR&H well knew
as whenever she was able
it was he she would speak to
regarding rail transport of her stable
in 1936 she was the first female
to fly against the wind
let's set the record straight
to get it right
the Atlantic Ocean non-stop solo
from east to west with the night
4
Have gone so far
To be left behind
No longer longing for a reward
To set the record straight
I know I lived every day
But these thoughts are rearranged
Can’t remember and I forgot
What I was after in the first place
What I sought now I’m after
Is for someone to fill the part
This aching in my heart
To find someone
To play her part
To make me an honest man
Well, that is the plan
"Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers…"
Every time I hear a kid recite this twisted rhyme,
I'm 'minded how 'gainst Mother Nature it's a crime.
What that peck of peppers was no one can tell,
Perhaps banana, jalapeño, cherry, bell.
But whate'er they were, it's plain, at least to me,
That such a peck as that came off no bush nor tree.
For years this simple nursery flaw
Has scraped, and scoured, and rubbed me raw,
And in my very craw the thing's been sticking.
So to bring the problem up to date,
And to try and set the record straight,
I've checked with Vlasik, Clausen, Kraft,
And all agree the notion's daft
That peppers can be pickled prior to picking.
Author's note: Of course, there could have been a typo in the original manuscript, and Peter actually "packed a peck of pickled peppers", or maybe Peter, himself, was partially "pickled" when he picked 'em.
Entered in Tom Woody's Nursery Rhyme Wackiness Poetry Contest on July 16, 2024.
I hear, you ask about me?
I will tell you exactly.
All these years I was a fool.
In the kingdom of the blind,
You were the king with the one eye.
Everybody has to play by your rules.
Now it’s my time.
To set the record straight.
You are fake.
Pretend to be righteous,
And perfect.
I’m done covering up,
Your mistakes.
I made a clean slate.
I’ll let the world see for,
Who you are.
A shadow with an evil past.
I’m the one who is standing tall,
At last.
You cannot break me,
I am free.
Your castle is tumbling down.
I won.
You got served!
For my very last poem
I'd like you all to know
I used to live on wanderlust
Though now it doesn't show
For my very last poem
I'd like here to confess
That for too much of my too short life
I didn't try my best
For my very last poem
I'd like to set the record straight
The guy who sometimes made you smile
Didn't always treat his family great
For my very last poem
I'd like here to admit
I missed my share of deadlines
The final one ~ this 'last poem contest' is it
Yet for my very last poem
I still hope that you think
I'm the type of good-natured fellow
With whom you'd like to have a drink
Humpty Dumpty had no yolk
As oft implied to younger folk.
This hatched idea in oviform
Should never have become the norm.
And so, before it is too late
I mean to set the record straight.
For Humpty was a tortoise bold
With hankerings to break the mould.
‘Why should it be?’ he’d often sigh
‘That we chelonians cannot fly?’
With lofty thoughts, aerodynamic
He climbed the wall – no sign of panic.
His oak-leaf wings in ten-fold ply
Assured success in his mind’s eye
But birds in flight looked on in dread
Knowing too well what lay ahead!
It's great to hold high aspirations
But best to know one’s limitations!
Now Humpty is content to roam
At leisure in his mobile home.
THE MYSTERY OF HUMPTY DUMPTY CONTEST
05/07/18
I heard the tale of Humpty Dumpty who sat on a wall,
and how he managed to have a terrible and fatal fall.
But let me be the first to set the record straight,
everything that happened that day was not fate.
Humpty was a rising and upcoming gymnast,
that could do flips on the balance beam really fast.
He had enemies that hated him to the core,
they wanted to be Him,and so much more.
So one day they greased down the infamous wall,
Dumpty practiced there everyday, they knew he’d fall.
Until this day no one knows the true story,
It was the biggest lie told in modern history.
My father was a king's horseman and a gymnast,
and helped kill him and think of a lie that would last.
6-28-18
I've crossed over life's next great divide
Joining others from near as well as far and wide
A new world where memories are king
And one knows not what each day may bring
Seems only yesterday that I was young
Strong of heart and quick of tongue
Now I move more slowly down life's path
Stopping only now and then to look back and laugh
Eyes are dimmer now and view a different world
One that moves much too fast as events unfurl
Yesterdays are many, tomorrows are far too few
I don't rise each day and shout "there is work to do"
Where once there was energy now only fatigue remains
And I dream of a place blessed with soft summer rains
Life is full of pain and beauty beyond belief
Moments of extreme joy and overwhelming grief
To wonder "why" is to find that silence always prevails
Hidden deep in the heavens are the secrets of life's intricate details
So we find that we have no choice but to wonder and to wait
And hope that the next major "crossing over" will set the record straight
Today's racist is not your hate racist of the past.
Today's racist are just ignorant people, both good and bad.
Most see humanity,
as akin to the feline family.
There are lions and tigers, cougars and bobcats,
jaguars, leopards, cheetahs and house cats.
The cat family is an array of a great variety of sub species,
but a common ancestor among all can clearly be seen,
and that's how most see humanity.
All races are seen
as human sub species,
who all share a common ancestor that branched off into a great variety,
of "races", the human term for "sub species".
Let me set the record straight.
There Is No Such Thing As Race.
There is more genetic variation among a group of chimpanzees,
than there is in all of humanity.
All of us share the same common ancestor globally.
We are all directly connected genetically.
In truth we are one big worldwide dysfunctional family.
Race Does Not Exist, it is a falsity,
and this has been proved scientifically.
Today's racist is plain and simply this;
Today's racist is anyone who still believes that race does exist.
If I were an elephant:
I would set the record straight
And squash that big fat lie. I'm
not scared of an little ole mouse.
It's fleas that scare the HELL of me!
12-08-16
Contest: If I Were An Elephant
Sponsor: Mystic Rose
Horn Haiku Is All Great Horn Haiku
About my poem thought
If happens not to be hot
Sure won't hit the spot.
You will have to think
About this for a long while
Sure done in Horn style.
What may be the norm
They have for a haiku form
Mine could cause a storm.
Set the record straight
What I have heard as of late
Horn haiku (is) are great.
(Take your pick.)
James Interesting Easy Digesting Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
I watch the neighborhood light up their houses
in colorful displays
of white and multicolor marvels.
Decorations blink and glow
brightening the night
and illuminating the darkness.
For some, lights are not enough
and along the grass and walkways
are santas and snowmen and reindeer
elves and candy canes, to many more to name.
How easily we forget
the very cause of the season.
Just a few set the record straight
revealing a mother, father, and child in a manger
with shepherd and kings standing watch.
A child’s birth remembered this very day
celebrated with joy and gifts for all
save the child which made it possible.
Set the lights, wrap the packages,
decorate a tree with garlands and ornaments.
but pause a little while.
Remember for a moment
the birth and message of that child.
Puzzled are the recipients of a fruit cake from Santa Claus this year!
Seems that Yuletide ain't complete 'less you git one to bring you cheer!
Fruit cakes are much maligned and I'm here to set the record straight!
However, I must admit 'tis one of the most bizarre things I ever ate!
Even a mediocre chef can be very creative in concoctin' such confection,
Tossin' in all kinds of dubious stuff and whippin' it up to perfection!
Yule never know what Yule find when into a fruit cake you slice!
You just have to take yer chances! 'Tis a proverbial roll o' the dice!
Should you choose not to eat the thing for fear of breakin' a tooth,
There are numerous functional uses fer this lowly delicacy, forsooth!
They make a wonderful door stop, foot stool or a very formidable missile,
When hurled at yer neighbor's yappin' mutt, that ever makes you bristle!
This is a not so subtle reminder so as in your mind there'll be no doubt,
If you're givin' fruit cakes as gifts next year, please include me out!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
My name is heard in certain circles,
and its not the best of news;
There's tales of things I've never done,
even things I'd never choose.
But they like to paint their own picture,
of who I'm supposed to be;
Is their life so very empty,
that they have to pick on me?
I guess I'm the new kid on the block,
and I really didn't have a choice;
When I tried to set the record straight,
it was like I never had a voice.
They laugh and snicker at their own lies,
and the vicious circle grows;
They will believe what they want to anyway,
but the truth only God and I will know.
So I'll let them slander if they choose to,
but I'll hold my head up high;
For I know my conscience will be clear,
and never be a puppet to a lie.
WHAT’S IN A NAME
My Name?
I'll set the record straight, right now for what it's worth
Wordancer was not the name my mother gave me at my birth.
My avatar can be Emu, Fairy, Frog, or a dinner suited Wagtail
Like the one who tattles to the birds when a Cat is on their trail.
This Poetically Spirited Soup shows there’s a welcome at the door,
I don't know you; you don't know me, I'll see you on the dance floor
As I travel through this varied life other names I sometimes own,
Like, Eliza and Threadneedle, they're all part of me alone.
On the Southern Fleurieu Peninsula, on the South Australian coast
Near the town of Yankalilla, is the place that I haunt most,
And if you're ever down our way the door is left ajar
You'll be welcome whether travelling from close by or from afar.
Oh yes, I love to dance.
Wordancer
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