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Best Poems Written by Ken Gillespie

Below are the all-time best Ken Gillespie poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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First Mate

When Madoc roamed these waters,
Aye, fair Madoc of the seas,
I sailed with him, First Mate was I,
We sailed the outer lees.
And to these Emerald Seas we came,
From faroff emerald shores,
To plant our families safe, serene,
For none had come before.
The natives met us naked,
Brave savages for sure!
With arrows fast and spears
They fought, their future not secure.
And thus our arms prevailed
And we took a deadly toll.
Our forts we raised up from the woods,
Our brave lads withstood the foe.
The we vanished without a trace.
No one left here to embrace.
No cunning, blond haired child blue eyed,
No one riding on the tide.

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Texas Jack

Ol' Texas Jack he wandered,
He wandered far and wide,
With cactus spikes a blanket,
Locoweed his temporary bride.
And when Ol' Texas Jack was shot
Straight dead---he very nearly died.

But his horse, a sandy mare she was,
Rode in from ancient Mexico.
She kissed him once betwixt the eyes---
He jumped right up
Where his tombstone lies!

Yeah, when Ol' Texas Jack was shot,
Wild Bill was by his side.
He told me this tale I tell to you,
And they both went off to ride.

And if you go to Laramie or maybe
Tombstone too, you'll see them
Playing extras!  They'll sit rite next to you!
The pay's real good and the grubs alrite,
And if you stay up all night,
You'll see them riding in the mist.
They're gone.  Turn off the lights.

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Lions and Lollipops

The lively lion liked lollipops.
He loved to eat and lick his chops.
But when he looked like eating me,
I ran to climb the tallest tree.

"Leo," I said, "don't climb up here."
He sias,"I can't, dear sir,
I'm filled with fear of high places
I never venture."   He smiled
And showed his pearly dentures.

"Come down," he said, " and we'll have a party."
I simple replied,"Don't be upset
If I am tardy and if I remain healthey and hardy."

"I won't be sad, just very hungry."  And thus Leo
walked away with lollipops all sticking out
Of hungry chops.

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Hiho

Mahi mahi shrimp gumbo,
we'll sing the sailor's song--hiho!

We're off to sail the outter lees,
We'll row and row to catch the breeze,

Then  wander 'round the Florida Keys
Past water spouts and hazy seas.

So, mahi mahi shrimp gumbo,
Come sing the sailor's song--hiho!

Details | Ken Gillespie Poem

Waste Machine Part Ii

Sin plagues the land!
Where men cry out from false pulpits
That we can get :back to the Garden"
And mongrelize ourselves into
Some kind of World Man,
Sin plagues the land.

Where honest, decent fellows
Are dragged off to lose
The no-win wars, and
"righteous causes" become
Enmeshed in UN delegations
And rich senators for hire!

And lies roar out of the Gulf
 of Tonkin
Tseunami-like, wearing medals they explode
Into long rows of graves and long rows of steel
Emplanted upright still steaming from the
Cutter charges,
And sandbags sprout like locasts
In the streets of old Kuwait
And up to Tikrit's fortress,

While lies flow in the night
Back and forth from DC town
And From Tel Aviv to Tehran
And back again,
History writes its story
On the dust of our dead sons.
And the Court Historians make a movie of it.
We'll watch it just for fun.

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Stanza 1941

Steel coffins race across the sand,
Rommel's making his last stand.
The 88's are cracking steel
With loud-sharp-noise like bursting bells.

As columns march across the steppe
Are swallowed up in Asia's depths.
"Bomber" harries is on the phone:
"Bomb Berlin til it's all gone!"

Don't leave an unburned child still standing
In the streets of quaint  ol' Dresden.
Roosevelt jumps along in stride:
"The atom bomb is on our side!"

Without a whimper he sings his tune,
"We'll drop it on the Japs real soon
Like a fiery, stormy sun-typhoon.

The bankers count their coin stacked high
And with a crooked smile they sign.

Details | Ken Gillespie Poem

War Stanzas

Stanza 1865

Where the reeds and rushes grow
Where the forest dims the light,
How the brave lads charge forth,
How the valient fight!

Order in disorder sways,
Close up on the right,
The lame and walking wounded
With gaping holes of fright.

Raise the banner proudly,
Fair glory to be gained:
Boyhood friends are stumbling,
Brooding o'er their pain.

They cry out to God their Maker,
Their heads help down in swoons,
While officers are shouting,
Maneuvering for room.

The battle lines enmeshed, embraced
As the bankers watch the doom.

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None, Ode To Longfellow's "aftermath"

Alas, we must mow again, again
The Shallow grass, the poppy fields,
The tuliped glade o'er yonder glen
Until in solemn rest we mend.

Not for this time of rest we seek,
Our swords, not plowshares, 
And our shields, our burdens heavy
Carried 'til we meet and on this field
Our foe defeat.

In long rows the harvest comes,
The youthsprigs' archaic drills!
The scathe we raise in unison
A fire so bright outshines the sun!
Cut down, cut down!  And then were none.

Details | Ken Gillespie Poem

Waste Machine

One gigantic waste machine chews up the land,
Chews up human beings into moonscape,
Plowing all the atoms into ethereal distortions
Of one long violent scream of man against man,
And man against nature, and man
Against nature's God.

That madness begun by Lucifer continues:
Cains and Lamechs and Nimrods bragging
Amid poolos of blood and in the dark streets,
Setting up their idols and on the plains
Again and again into ruins on top of ruins
On top of ruins, present and future decay!

Sin plagues the land:
That ancient rebellion of man
To become his own god, to know
All things  apart from the Creator God
Goes on and on and
Sin plagues the land.

Details | Ken Gillespie Poem

Stanza 1971

In ol' Songbe the choppers rise
From the sling-out pad with sleepy eyes,
All filled with special OD goodies--
Frags and doo just for the boonies.

We'll convoy up Rt. 309
And build a bridge 
Where the French one stood.

The laterite is packed real tight
To support the five-tons through the fight.
The peneprime smells oooh just right
With body bags stacked in the hootch tonight.

So come sing the happy convoy song:
Santana is struming and "beer to the front!"
"Carry me back to ol' Kambuja,"
The electric guitars drift o'er the berm.

And the sweat is mixed with the three-two beer,
Nobody here is filled with fear,
And the stars by the thousands stand up to cheer
Santana and doo and a breeze from the sea.

The rockets are pretty seen from afar.