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Best Poems Written by Richard Manly

Below are the all-time best Richard Manly poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Epitaph To a Happy Mosquito

T'was a warm summer's day, when I took to the trail,
to cruise that old black spruce, way down in the swale.

A gallon of bug dope was strapped on my hip,
which I figured would last me for most of the trip.

Down through the sphagnum I plowed like a moose,
a huffin' and puffin' and spittin' my snoose.

Then off in the distance, I heard a faint roar,
like B-29's coming home from the war.

The sky clouded over, so you barely could see,
"They're mosquitoes! "I cried, and they're coming for me.

They flew by me once and past me again,
a-flexing their stingers, before they moved in.

I grabbed for my bug dope and spread it on thick,
just hopin' and prayin', it would do the trick.

They came at me fiercely and punctured my hide,
But before they could drink much, they dropped off and died.

I thought to myself, "What type of bug dope is this?"
The mosquitoes all had smiles on, as they lay there in bliss.

After checking the label, I saw my mistake,
t'was the 100 proof whiskey, that Uncle Jake makes.

Details | Richard Manly Poem

I Took Myself Walking

I took myself walking the other day,
not far from the city's decay

A small patch of solitude beckoned to me,
'til I came to take rest,by the old stump of a tree.

Sure I took myself walking and alone here I sit,
disgusted with life and close to a fit.

With face cupped in hands and eyes a-staring out straight,
I thought to myself, "What will be my fate?"

Self-pity had just about taken it's toll,
when that old stump piped up, with the voice of my soul.

"Look here young fella,what's got you so low?"
"Life's got me defeated', I said kinda slow.

"Life's got you defeated--just look what I've got,
a face charred by fire and a heart full of rot.

I've got critters chewing me inside and out,
and I'm darned close to dying,there is little doubt.


But am I discouraged?--not on your life.
I've served a good purpose, with my offspring and wife".

And looking around, what should I see,
but hundreds of saplings and another old tree.

"We've given the earth much more than we've taken,
if you do the same, you won't be forsaken.

Just go back and face life with it's ups and it's downs.
Back to your life in cities and towns.

But come back again, if you feel yourself slippin',
If more people went walking, there'd be less of them flippin'.

I

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A Deer Hunter's Prayer

I am at once pleased and saddened that I have taken your life,oh great creature 
of the forest.

I am pleased because I have invested many years honing my woods lore and 
shooting skills for this final result.

I am saddened because I have killed one of God's most beautiful creatures for 
uncertain reasons.

I don't need your flesh to sustain my family nor your hide to clothe them.  

I question myself constantly because I seem to focus an inordinate amount of 
time day-dreaming about forthcoming hunts and re-enacting old hunts in my 
head.

I question why I am obsessed with checking and re-checking my hunting 
equipment as the fall days shorten.

I question why I expose myself to the abuse of the natural elements--drenching 
rain, freezing snow and biting winds, waiting for you to materialize.

I especially question this hidden force of ancient origins that drives me to take 
your life.

I am satisfied that I have not killed just for the sake of killing--that there is 
something deeper, more spiritural at stake.  Perhaps I'm attempting to capture a 
modicum of your nobility, your sheer beauty and ability to live free, for myself.

Regardless of the answers to these probing questions and as I kneel next to 
your lifeless body, I do ask for your forgiveness and promise that your mortal 
remains will not be wasted and that the cherished memories of this hunt will 
remain with me for the balance of my life.

Details | Richard Manly Poem

Beagle Ears Or a Baby's Bottom

What do you think of, when you hear the word SOFT?
Is it gossamer spider webs, lining an old barn's loft?

Could it be the fluff, from the dandelion seed?
Or the down from a bird, whose been recently freed?

Would you describe SOFT, in musical terms?
Like Pachelbel's Canon in D, or the songs of terns?

Is it possible to picture SOFT, as a pastel scene?
Or maybe the vagueness, of a old fading dream.

Might the caress of an eyelash, on the tip of your nose,
Rival the feel and subtle smell, of an opening rose?

SOFT could be a gentle breeze, in late afternoon.
Or the muted chortle, of a parenting loon.

Then there's the softness, of an old man's earlobe.
And Cumulus clouds, that circle our globe.

But I'll argue all day, or until my words are forgotten,
Nothing's as SOFT as Beagle Ears-- or a Baby's Bottom.

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The Undersized Lunker

The dawn was approaching, not a breath of air blew,
And the bass should be bitin', at the edge of the slough.

I gathered my tackle and shoved in the boat,
Not knowing whether, the blamed thing would float.

A pull on the kicker, got old Betsy churnin',
To the home of the large-mouth, for which i'd been yearnin'.

The boat snaked on through, the lily-pad carpet,
Toward an old sunken log, as black as a tarpit.

Don't ask me how, but I knew he'd be there,
Just awaitin' to be pulled, from his watery lair.

With a flick of the wrist, the lure sped toward the log,
Which stuck from the water, at the edge of the bog.

The silence was shattered, as the bass took the bait.
You could see in his eyes, the feeling of hate.

I had him hooked firmly, in the side of the lip,
And he couldn't get loose, no matter how he should flip.

I guessed that he'd weigh, no less than twelve pounds,
For he was straining my tackle, beyond all its' bounds.

An hour went by, but he fought just as strong.
He had to give in, 'cause I couldn't last long.

Finally the old lunker, turned on it's side,
And slid in the net, with mouth opened wide.

But after I weighed him, I found to my plight,
He'd lost over ten pounds, during this long and hard fight!

Details | Richard Manly Poem

Single Black Female

While scanning the local personal ads, the other night,
The following headline ventured, into my sight.

"SINGLE BLACK FEMALE, seeks male companionship."
Well there's a catch line, I was prompted to quip.

So naturally I read on, to see what this gal had to say.
"Ethnicity unimportant; I'm a good girl who just loves to play."

Maybe she'd be the one, who could change my hard luck.
"I love long walks in the woods, and riding a truck."

And she continued, "hunting, camping and fishing trips,
Cozy winter nights by the fire," all rolled from her lips.

Is she real, passed through my mind?
Women like this, are impossible to find.

"Candlelight dinners, will have me eating out of your hand."
This is every man's fantasy dream, you must understand.

"I'll be at the front door, when you get home from work,
Wearing only what nature gave me," and my head gave a jerk.

"Call this number and ask for DAISY;  I'm waiting."
She certainly had my attention, there is no debating.

Well I tripped over my own feet, I'm embarrassed to say,
To dial DAISY'S number, and invite her to come out and play

When the phone stopped ringing, I heard this beautiful female voice.
"This is the ATLANTA HUMANE SOCIETY, and I'll give you a choice,"

"Push #1 for DAISY, our eight week old female Black Lab pup.
Or push #2 for STUPID, 'cause your filthy mind's all screwed up."