Short Souse Poems

Clyde Rolf
Played golf

First nine
Went fine

Next nine
Not fine

He muffs
In roughs

Sand trap
Oh crap

Tough break
In lake

Bad hook
In brook

Blew putts
Some klutz

Hurled putter
In gutter

O'er par
By far

Disgust
He cussed

Clubhouse
To souse...

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The town drunk felt a dire need to wee-wee!

     In the park he found a sycamore tree.

          As the cops led him away,

               The old souse was heard to say,

                    "Where e'er you be, let yer water flow free!" 

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved...

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Randolph
Tried golf

Paid fees
Bought tees

Teed off
Pals scoff

Drive muff
In rough

Balls lost
They cost!

Oh crap
Sand trap!

Putts bad
Gets mad!

More flubs
Breaks clubs!

So far
No par

Played poor
No more!

Club house
To souse!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired...

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How can stars be there?
I am blind in slush,flinched
From the vagrant wind
Wafting the fog's kiss
To wiz tree down the ravine
Tucked in by the fells
Where kinda moon drops
Souse eerie pebbledashed face
Of me to recoup.
  


Compose a Choka - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Janis Thompson
07/22/2016...

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Boats lost at sea,,
Earth’s grief
Tell me:
Why do breathless waves
Fall down on your eyes?
 
Night’s tale,,
That adores my death
I am but a twirl
In your surroundings.
 
Behold..
I launch my heart
Up and far.
 
Beyond the wing of Eagle.
 
I launch my poem..
Without sin, though
Life’s mirror laughs.
 
You still souse my moans....

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Clyde Clark
In park

Was boozy
Real doozy

Did pee
On tree

Broke law
Cop saw

Tied hands
With bands

To jail
Sans bail

Called spouse
"You souse"

Said she
To he

"Stay there
Don't care"

(Later before the judge)
"Where ere you be let your water flow free", was Clyde's creative defense.
Ha! Ha! grinned the judge! "Thirty days in the slammer for this offense!"...

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There’s a mouse in my house,
     a greedy little souse
He’s clever for I never
     eyewitness his endeavors,
But the cat sentinel sat,
      and I know the little rat
             is there.
There are holes in my rolls
     and mouse turds in my bowls.
Though a lover, out of cover,
     of all fauna I discover
This critter makes me twitter
     at his presence as a sitter
           in my kitchen,

So I’m bitchin’; but the mouse,
     tail a-twitchin’,
           scurries on....

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