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Best Poems Written by Bob Shank

Below are the all-time best Bob Shank poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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You Can'T Hurt Me

Resounding echoes awaken the child
demons in the attic beckon unto him
stark fear grips his Vick's laden chest
shivers vibrate rusty springs of down

footsteps creak closer upon loose floorboards
while steamed filled pipes play taps
a somber teddybear snarls
causing the world to be still

foolish nuns, God doesn't want to "get me"

the sting of a ruler splinters a left hand
blood spurts upon faces of laughter
evil little boy too wicked for a mother
affliction runs in the family

Florence became flop because she always fell
polio never whipped her ass
just abused her now and then
she healed with a smile

Even humility has its price

Jimmy Dean wore sunglasses
maybe his eyes were bloodshot
or maybe he was a child of an alcoholic
and they became part of his attire

degenerate eye disease, masturbation
spattering or battering
does it really matter when you can't see
or understand the difference between ADD and ADHD

Psych 101: Crack can be Prozac

Iron gates surround a new residence
protecting the innocent who peer from outside
rehabilitation means refining bad habits
like those on the outside who have mastered them

twelve years of bars and games people play
provide an education unto itself
seclusion can be the deciding factor
between murder or suicide

self righteous judges choose life

recidivism is a revolving door
of vicious cycles with no engines
only propellers called co-dependants
or co-defendants, take your pick

life repeats itself over and over
only the circumstances change
yet the merry-go-round stops
when the flowers are arranged

Why are most tombstones gray

scared, afraid to die
are you saved?
from what, ourselves
you can't hurt me

Bob Shank-Nov. 30th, 2006

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Night Rider

Slowly she climbs aboard
through darkness of shadows cast
her noble steed awaits
anticipating the joy of being ridden 

through valleys and mountains
full moons glaring upon howling wolves
through waterfalls of sensual pureness
one can hear the breath of hoofbeats

always she rides at night
afraid of false impurities
never understanding
she glows in the dark.......

when you love somebody, nothing should ever be hidden, especially that which 
you give unto each other....Peace

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Clear As Day

Love hath tasted of arsenic lips
ground thy soul upon treacherous hips
opened vessels with anemic blood
bathed in a teared river of mud

yet loneliness fills a desires plate
tis the companion of Poe's fate
lips sparkled of potent ale
lovely neck a shade too pale

empty bottles of friendship lied
drunken souls hang head to side
looking for sadness as their pride
lest the poet's pen be his bride

etched in darkness, the devil's queen
horrid tragedy with beauty unseen
liquid scents perfume thy mind
splashing eyes tearfully blind...

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Where Have We Gone

where we strived for peace and harmony 
cared about one another 
instead of grabbing guns from the armory 
shouldn't we love thy brother 
where children no longer respect 
parents, guardians that now neglect 
education is at an all time low 
attention disorders, I don't think so 
religious people, they claim to be 
believe different, then you'll see 
murder and homelessness at an alarming rate 
oh well, that's their fate 
liberty for all, was the idea 
poverty has many searching for a meal 
leaders and politicians can't be trusted 
the wheels of justice leave one disgusted 
seniors dying from lack of healthcare 
whatever happened to "I'll be there" 
for you and I, life goes on 
but tell me, where have we gone. 


DEDICATED TO THOSE WHO STILL TRULY CARE

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History's Sad Song

History's Sad Song (Revised)

throughout my life
I've heard many a sad song
relating to the lyrics
that seemed to play too long

way back during the Crusade
where religious debt was paid
by the bloodlust of so many
could not ye God spare any
as hundreds of thousands died
over manmade religious pride
these wars continue today
justified by words we pray

Oh, when the saints go marching in
....(Sang by the Kingston Trio)

they hailed from every nation
to defy the written proclamation
prohibiting ownership of God's creation
many fought with such bravery
to continue the practice of slavery
another man's misery
has always been the key
for the powers that be
and who cares about equality
when Kingdoms can be built for free

A Change Is Gonna Come 
........(Sam Cooke) 

but as I study history
one thing has occurred to me
there really isn't any change
Hitlers, just go by different names
as we remember the Holocaust
Sodom and Gomorrah was never lost
but found within the soul of man
burnt crisp, the devil's plan

Momma's Don't Let Your Babies Grow up to be Cowboys - Waylon Jennings 

everybody's got a gun
buying ammo by the ton
myths of old western days
seem like broadway plays
acted out in the streets
a daily performance society repeats
gunsmoke, and the ponderosa
replaced by La Costra Nostra

"Wake Up Everybody"
by Harold Melvin and The Bluenotes

John F. Kennedy died 
a shocked nation cried
what many could never figure
is if Oswald pulled the trigger
while Marilyn slept in the grave
Martin fought for the slave
yes even hate was still around
as Eldridge went underground
Malcolm X was gunned down
with bullets from the nation
to ease Elijah's aggravation

and the temptations sang "Cloud Nine"

another Kennedy has died
Ted needs a place to hide
only not within the bottle
nor behind the throttle
congress opens its doors
to pageboys and lobbyist whores
but they did put a man on the moon
right before Joplin sang her last tune
who would have thought "me and bobby magee"
would be over shadowed by the Manson Family
the blind leading the blind, neither could see
Jim Jones and the Guyana tragedy

Even Earth, Wind, and Fire, "kept their head to the sky"

praying for an end to a senseless war
that no one knew what they were fighting for
our "vietnam" seems up to date
while nixon got caught up in watergate
whitehouse rose "bushes"we love to hate
Lennon left the beatles ill-willed
never to "imagine" he'd be shot and killed

and War Sang, "slipping into darkness",
followed by "the world is a ghetto"

Even "the greatest" shall soon fall 
but in defeat they stand tall
unlike the berlin wall
the thriller in manilla
refused to be a killa
as rap became the new wave
and crack became the new crave
along with video games
just another war, with different names

Teena Marie sang "Deja' Vu"

Nerd Gates becomes the new Donald Trump
while history gets taught by Forrest Gump
a great poet died at the age of twenty-five
though many claim Tupac is still alive
and I saw Elvis and Bruce Lee too
singing the blues with you know who
then came the white bronco on the loose
nobody could manuever like the Juice
except maybe Bill when he said please
a simple word that brought Monica to her knees

and Snoop Doggy Dog sang, "Ain't nuttin' but a "G" thang baby

Beepers became replaced by the cell phone
on 9/11 no one could call home
as war and mother nature ripped us a new ass
even Martha joined the inmate class
now she's out, but Oprah's still the queen
sorry Latifah, you know what I mean
the mother drowned her five children in a tub
she got sent to a Psychiatric health club
the ruling was it's a new sickness
my head screws off from such thickness
so many changes and hypocrisy
I guess that's what they call democracy

and Queen sang, "We are the Champions, 
of the World"

throughout my life
I've heard many a sad song
relating to the lyrics
that seemed to play too long

Bob Shank

Details | Bob Shank Poem

The Ole' Ballfield

patented genuine leather gloves 
captivating our boyhood heroes
those same gloves flailing about
towards fly's we were supposed to catch

a glowing white ball with red thread
that begged to be rocketed into orbit
we dreamed of such heroics
pleaded to the God's for the power
most times we flailed there too

it was a tiny aspirin
that evaded mammoth sticks
eagle-eyed trembling lads tried and tried
at least three consecutive times
before retreating with lowered heads
and yet we swore we'd return
with vengeance upon our hearts

there were parents, encouraging
some hopelessly, others with zest
each and every ball pitched
held a lifetime of recollection to come
hopes that immortality would strike
inhale, swing....exhale, next

one by one we took our turn
learning life, the struggles, the joys
suckling each moment with precious breath
tomorrow didn't matter, this was the day
contact, wood upon a now scuffed ball
foulball the ump screamed!
a delightful sound
for it meant success
no matter how miniscule
clapping, smiles broad as the horizon
shoulder slaps, that a boy!

proud parents boasted
picnics were planned
even the diamond itself sparkled
it lived for moments such as these
ah the stories held within those fences

Part 2

thirty five years have gone by
our "field of dreams" now a grave site
ironic that coach Lou resides at homeplate
his stone reads "We lent him boys,
He returned young men"
a great tribute to his dedication
and love for the game

the grave yard littered with former players
however the mound lies bare
no hill, nor stone
only my own precious memories
one day, I shall play again.............

Details | Bob Shank Poem

Can I Ever Return

Reborn, a Christian fallacy
dreams that have haunted me
left handed, what a shame
someone has to bear the blame

a teddy bear that never speaks
guards the child from attic squeaks
goulish figures of a mothers glow
a fallen angel I never did know

applesauce and mustard bread
free cheese, the government said
mice dined, making it swiss
tasty morsels of sweet bliss

the susquehanna, we dove in
reliving Huckleberry Finn
pirates of pennies, poor as hell
rich in imagination, an everflowing well

milk crated wagons, with skate wheels
coats of reds, and hubbed teals
discarded paint, the color of choice
a smooth ride with a rugged voice

raiding gardens, tomato fights
the guilty exposed, under the lights
pasted innocent faces shook with fear
only to plot again the following year

camping trips in mountains so vast
became tented bedrooms shadows cast
but the stories told, will remain history
because for many of us, that was family

and those were the days...............

Details | Bob Shank Poem

Turn the Page

Turn the page

history repeats itself
like worn pages upon a shelf
read, used and discarded
author's left brokenhearted

the will to believe, to follow
mirrored faces hollow
from the politicians lips
to child pornography hips

leaders of the new world
educating the little girls
onto the path to success
keys hidden beneath the dress

when will we turn the page
and voice our outrage
or just accept it as law
democracy's fatal flaw.....

Bob Shank-Oct. 8th, 2006
the hell with a vote, grab a rope

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Nurturing Nature (Hybrid Haiku)

Nurturing Nature (Hybrid Haiku)

Children are always 
gentle flowers growing wild 
nurture them softly..... 

Bob Shank

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If I Had Breastices

If I had breastices
I'd want me some thirty eights
or maybe forty-four magnums
to impress all my mates

I'd want them to be soft
and a little bouncy too
but only for my pleasure
not to share with you

for if I had breastices
I'd be happy as a lark
smiling all during the day
and panting after dark