"banjos" poems
Our family got the news today
Our bubba's gettin' hitched
Young Daisy Mae, she's near fourteen
Got our boy bewitched
He's sayin' that he loves her
He's making her his bride
She's the first to get him this close
Though not too many tried
We've got to get things ready
Send invitations and make candles
We've got to get the good jars out
The one's that still have handles
The minister is on alert
We've got to make some shine
Grandpa says he'll make some up
But, it will not all be mine
Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash
With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash
The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow
The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow
This time there'll be no shotgun
Like the last time for old Ben
This time the guns are empty
Not the way they were back then
The banjos will be tuned up
There'll be music in the air
The cops won't try to stop it
I think most will all be there
The ladies will be planning
Just how to serve up all the grub
While Bubba has to find a suit
And therein lies the rub
He's never worn a suit at all
Not even for a day
He's only dressed in coveralls
And that's how he's gonna stay
Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash
With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash
The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow
The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow
It'll be a **** dang doodle
A hell of a good time
It'll only be completed
When they run out of the shine
there'll be singing and some dancing
Underneath the harvest moon
We can't wait for it to happen
It cannot come too soon
There'll be readings from the bible
Which the minister will read
And as good holy Christians
Everyone will heed
There's sure to be some fighting
Before the couple say "I do"
I mean, they are both cousins
I'm gonna go...aren't you?
Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash
With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash
The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow
The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 11:45 PM UTC
Hare Krishna's
In their Pickups
Depressed Comics
Down on their Luck
Teenage Girls
Screaming Meme's
****** Pinko's*
Leftward Leaning
Vincent Price
Flo and Eddie
Rodger Rabbit
Priscilla Presley
Nuns in Habits
Dwarf's in Ponchos
Deadbeat Dads
Munching Nachos
Right-Wing Nut Jobs
Trading Slogans
A few Hero's
Including Hogan
Are just a few of the sights you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Buddhist Monks
With Electric Banjos
Holding Signs Up
Of Marlon Brando
Taxi Cabs
Blaring Show Tunes
Pregnant Women
Down-loading Soon
Derby Jockeys
Flying Monkeys
Kool-Aidholics
Skittle Junkies
Bozo The Clown
Bumper Stickers
Psychedelic
Crazed Toad Lickers
Rhinestone Cowboys
In their Skivvies
Gothic Girls
Heebie Jeebies
Are just a few of the sights you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Blue Haired Granny's
In pink Moo Moos
Ballerina's In
Tattered Tutus
Mathematician's
Number Crunchers
Even have Some
Out to Lunchers
Model 50's
*Do *** Daddies*
One More Round Of
Flo and Eddie
People Sneaking
Across the Border
Lonely Fry Cooks
Taking Orders
A Few Wannabes
Not Saying Much
Will The Real Elvis
Please Stand Up
Are just a few of the sights that you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Thank you...Thank you very Much
Ladies and Gentlemen
Elvis...Has Left The Building
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 8:59 AM UTC
Seeking a gentleman who gets lost in thoughts
Feels everything and holds onto nothing.
Bachelor must tolerate banjos, books, and bare-feet.
A writer is preferred, but not exclusively.
I'm seeking a companion who loves tea and coffee in the afternoons
Must be willing to gamble with the suggested shows on netflix
And suggested artists on pandora.
Bonus points if music moves him in directions he didn't know existed.
Seeking a gentleman whose heart is made entirely of love and passion
With a reasonable head
And an unapologetic twinkle in his eyes.
I warn you that I love sunburns and tank-tops
Rain makes me sad, and I own a blue Snuggie named Ralf.
I laugh too loud at lame jokes about muffins and bars
Cry desperately in movies
And am driven to push boundaries.
***** makes me loose
I'm terrified of fourteen-year-old girls and spiders.
And I consider 90 degrees to be jacket weather.
I'm seeking a gentleman with an empty hand and a full heart
That I can love with all that I have
Laugh with, cry with, dream with.
You can find me in the words on this page.
I'll be waiting.
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 7:31 PM UTC
Took me to the wrong end of the Mississippi
Blown north from the whistling blues
Dreamt that sweet sound of saxophones
Coloring St. Claude Avenue
Banana leaves melted into evergreens
Where the swamps finally ran cold
Through the mountain ranges of the lakes, and banjos of the plains
Where the countryside grew quiet and old
I grew up on the wrong end of the Mississippi
But now I’m taking that southbound train
Oh honey don’t ask me how I’ve been
It’s a restless, lonesome pain
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 1:35 PM UTC
*Up on the hill
People never stare
They just don't care
Chinese music under banyan trees
Here at the dude ranch above the sea
Aja
When all my dime dancin' is through
I run to you
Up on the hill
They've got time to burn
There's no return
Double helix in the sky tonight
Throw out the hardware
Let's do it right
Aja
When all my dime dancin' is through
I run to you
Up on the hill
They think I'm okay
Or so they say
Chinese music always sets me free
Angular banjos
Sound good to me
Aja
When all my dime dancin' is through
I run to you*
***********************************************************
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
Well we jumped on the wing
for a good Irish fling
kicked off the week
with a boiler
The banter was high
as we took to the sky
nothing in sight
was a spoiler
And the red eye at night
was a captain’s delight
we spread on the seat
of the liner
Arrived just in time
for a whale of a time
at the Temple Bar
and Diner
Well the Dublin scene
in the Old College Green
was wired and alive
on the corner
Where me and me' mates
paired in at the gates
there were welcoming arms
to us foreigners
And we sang through the night
and grinned in delight
with banjos, pipes
and lasses
Drinking whiskey and beer
in a boatload of cheer
the rooster got lost
in the masses
The **** in the walk
was out on the stalk
a wee little flute
on display
His shoulders were pinned
with a great big grin
they were such
peculiar ways!
Well we found em next day
(in a sauntering way)
*got tossed in
all the commotion*
What happened to you?
said he hadn’t a clue
or any
baldy notion!
Hit the road to Howth
little east, little south
the seaside town
was groovin
Found the Cobblestone Pub
for a jar and a scrub
the seabird sounds
were soothin
Then we jumped a train
in the lashing rain
the Belfast craic
was mighty
Hit the Thirsty Goat
with a parching throat
some Tullamore Dew
for a nighty
In the Crumlin jail
the spirits set sail
the IRA
was gaffin
There was Bobby Sands
in celestial lands
alive and proud
and laughin
The Griffin dance
was the final chance
the evening closed
in nigh
And we made our way
through the Chelsea lanes
to say our
final good bye
~ ~ ~ ~
Singing
Ay, oh…let it all go
safe haven in the wasteland!
Singing
Slainte’…take me away
to the old Irish sounds
of the band!
Sep 23, 2021
Sep 23, 2021 at 11:41 AM UTC
... ..... ......... ........... ..... .......... ....... ... it's
reassuring that someday rain will
not remind me of you banjos will not
make me think of y o u r fingers my
couch will not whisper "I love you
you know I love you" anymore that
song you like will not have
your laugh ringing under
i t my favorite sweater
w i l l no l o n g e r have the
lingering s c e n t of your shampoo my
hands will not ache for your hands my
lungs will not burn from a i r that
isn't yours
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 1:22 AM UTC
Inspired by the movie 'The Songcatcher' and Sheila Kay Adams
A singer sings the ancient songs
and the kinfolk sing along...
and the kinfolk sing along.
They sing old harmonies
passed generations down
from mother to daughter;
their unique mountain sound.
They sing of dying, of love, of the dead,
of long lost loves, of breaking bread.
And these songs harken back
to the lands whence they came
with little more
than their backs and their name.
There are songs for working hard during the day
and songs for thanking, and making your way.
Together they play the ancient songs
and the kinfolk sing along...
and the kin folk sing along.
Stories are told
when their ballads are sung,
and banjos played;
strings plucked or strummed.
They sing of the simple joys of life,
of good times and sad times and endless strife.
Lessons learned and stories golden,
songs of killing, of blood, and pain,
Heard endless times in front porch warmth
Connections strengthened, kinship claimed.
People bred strong as the mountain's roots
Sing their songs, their simple truths.
And all the kinfolk sing along
when the mountain sings the ancient songs...
when the mountain sings the ancient songs.
Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 6:13 PM UTC
i love country music with its country beat
makes you feel alive gives you dancing feet
steel guitars and banjos in perfect harmony
good ole country music wakes the soul in me.
dancing all night long till the early morn
to the country music dancing till the dawn
dancing in line dancing all night long
dancing to the sound of good ole country song
underneath the moon dance the night away
to the country beat till the break of day
the banjos and the fiddles and a drink or two
a good ole country song dance the whole night through.
i love country music with its country beat
makes you feel alive gives you dancing feet
steel guitars and banjos in perfect harmony
good ole country music wakes the soul in me.
dancing all night long till the early morn
to the country music dancing till the dawn
dancing in line dancing all night long
dancing to the sound of good ole country song
Aug 9, 2019
Aug 9, 2019 at 1:12 PM UTC
Purple tips softly graze the tops of the golden fields.
Vines line the wire fences
Grapes as supple as your lips.
Motors and metal wind down the valley floors
Hills between Sonoma and napa shimmer with darkness.
The trees line the tips of each hill creating shadows following the ridges.
Twangy sounds of banjos strum in the background
Familiar laughter. Common conversation.
Passing the Fremont diner, Steinbecks route is traveled again
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 4:39 AM UTC
We buzzed the periphery on plastic,
moved in and out of the shadows
spending nickels on the corner jesters,
who stroked their banjos with fingerless gloves.
Their cracked fingertips were stained yellow,
mouths displayed racks of missing teeth,
snake eyes winked under reptilian lids
while blessings spewed forth.
I looked at the leader
who sang like Lennon
and wondered,
man what are you doing here
reincarnated.
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
like sitting beside the window feeling tortured by the torrential rain, wishing that it was pounding at my surface, scratching away at my pores.
having bluegrass melodies sweeping up my ears, filling them with banjos and voices as cavernous as the grand canyon
and watching you laying on the carpet, your legs crossed, rolling a cigarette as if you were caressing skin,
being careful as if you were rolling my veins, controlling the blood flow to my heart,
making it swell to burst.
Jun 21, 2010
Jun 21, 2010 at 8:29 AM UTC
Someone write a poem for me
Or about me.
Just stroke my ego or something.
I'm very tired and I need
Something more than coffee
And stale cigarettes
To get me through the rest of this week.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 10:37 PM UTC
I am a whisky drinker
A moonshine slinker
I've got banjos on the brain
Unwilling to share my name
Soft and subtle with no E
Talking your ear off skillfully
Stopping to share bread with those on the road
Spreading sunshine and laughter wherever I go
Our paths will cross, I hope so indeed
May we share a jar and a story or three
Hugs are given with heartfelt intent
I hope you never know a cold winter spent
Without the hope of the warmth to come
If you need a reason I'll give you some
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 4:29 PM UTC
It's 12:14 AM
and I'm being unsensible
because why would I be practical
When I only get scolded when I'm somebody else
So I'll live awake
and I'll write
and I'll think about the world
With folk as my soundtrack
Lyrical banjos overlapping with my thoughts
and mixing them together
And I'll have conversations in my head
because lonliness isn't as bad
as the lovers make it sound
And I'll pretend that there's someone next to me
But I don't even want to admit to myself who it is
Let alone to you
And I'll pretend that I can do things I shouldn't
and can't
and I'll do them in my head
alongside that person
and we'll go places that don't exist
because they might as well exist
and I know you can't resist
Because I decide that you can't
and I make the decisions when it's
12:16 AM in Alonedom
And this is the most personal I've ever been
And it's only because
It's 12:17 AM
and I'm being unsensible
and writing
and thinking about the world
In a way that I wouldn't be able to in the sunlight
And I'm admitting that there's somebody next to me
That nobody else can see
But they're not imaginary
They're real for me.
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 1:24 AM UTC
I don't know what word other
mothers secretly wait
for their children to utter
but when my son first said mommy
I felt like an ice cream cone
sliding off its hinges toward the grinning dog's
waiting tongue. When shoe came,
he stopped looking at faces for a few days
to more fully watch the world
where his new word lived.
Daddy comes and I change the subject. Last night,
I built a good enough campfire while my dad held
the boy and pointed heavenward, beginning his
celestial litany, *Andromedae, Cassiopeiae,
Draconis, Moon, Star, but the Sun is
asleep*, and I suddenly felt too
close to the fire. I knew I was nearing
that glen around my secret word
In the growing proximity, the world narrows
into the paper-thin bridge where only poetry will fit.
Later that night, the baby wrangled with
his own yawp and could not lay his head
and so we walked the isle
and stopped to be wooed by frogs with banjos in their hearts
and we remembered together all the secret
trails to lagoons and we pointed and garbled
at all things known and unknown
and at last, he pointed to the sky and said new.
I peered up to see what was new, but that was
not quite it - he tried again, moo
and the last gear gave
and the great machinery of my waking
rolled onto the highway of my own life
as the son put the two words together and spoke my secret moon.
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 6:47 AM UTC
You can't rush a still's chemistry.
Mountain folks know all about
revenuers and they're reaching
for our wallets. Taxes is just a
word for robbery. Leave us to
ourselves. We scratch a living
from the rocky soil and barely
eat from day to day. We dance
to banjos and fiddles and love
in the hayloft to sow our seeds.
Our mountains cradle our hearts.
Hardscrabble is our legacy.
We have hearts of coal
and love our mountain!
Feb 9, 2023
Feb 9, 2023 at 8:40 PM UTC
high up in the mountains where the hillbillies stay
they all get together dance the night away
folks all get togther party all night long
with there hillbilly sound and a hillbilly song
fiddles and banjos and the steel guitars
they dance the night away underneath the stars
a little bit of moonshine puts dancing in there feet
dancing all night long to the hillbilly beat
dancing all night long to the hillbilly sound
dancing all night long till morning comes around
fiddles and banjos and the steel guitars
they dance the night away underneath the stars
high up in the mountains where the hillbillies stay
they all get together dance the night away
folks all get togther party all night long
with there hillbilly sound and a hillbilly song
Jan 24, 2021
Jan 24, 2021 at 8:59 AM UTC
Would Be suitors, you sing to me having migrated to your breeding pond
All the night long you court me with your lively mating song
As I lie in my bed eavesdropping on you troubadours of princely green
I marvel and delight at the thought, that I may have been chosen your beloved Queen
I imagine you...watchful, eager with handsome green bodies adorned with bronze and brown
Banjos with loose strings strapped to your bodies tightly, as you hop around
Yellow throats bursting open with hopeful songs of praise
For all eligible green ladies with lovely long green legs
Long may you live and may your homes be filled with throngs
Of charming little boys like you, who fill our lives with song
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 12:56 PM UTC
Cinco de Mayo is a historical celebration with tequila worms, banjos, and dance.
A year ago today my father handed me money for the bar because I graduated college. I bought shots and beer and a velvet blanket of joy to conclude college for my beloved community that night. We danced drunken in the bass and unknown, fearless and strong as marble.
Tonight, one year forth, I have never felt so alone. I am unknown. I am known by some and the some know me deeper than my mother. I love them and tonight I accept that that love is selfless and if I wish it to continue I can expect nothing. They know my sin, my lust, my drubken mistakes, they know my prayers, my hopes, my future aspirations. But on cinco de mayo, no ***** are given. We only talk on Tuesdays.
A walk in the woods, two cigarettes and two hours of spoken silence. Drawing shallow ditches in North Carolina soil, searching for red clay. The ditches are more real than our friendship, today or have I mistaken words for action? Laughable, "brotherhood" today. And you say you know me, I can't believe you think I'm your best friend.
Feliz cinco.
You claim to love me but you put my eulogies in your bathroom trash can? I hope the toothpaste rots my notes fatser than my trust. I am done. I am spent. You have lost.
Cinco de mayo.
Feliz.
I sit in the parking lot of the apartment beside my home. A bud light and camel my only companions. If I even thought to ask for friendship or a bit of your time, commitments to others would come first. Inevitability, you have to do a because b expects c because we have two hours on Tuesday and that equals brotherhood. **** you.
But if another asked, you are gloriously free.
**** me for knowing what love is. **** me for knowing my worth.
I am ready for change.
I hope you don't follow my trail-you see my worth and drag me down.
I can not remember the last time you encouraged me out of any reason other than guilt.
**** that and **** you.
I am done with sharing marbles, what a ******* stupid metaphor for love.
**** you.
I am praying.
Strength, honor, and joy.
I hope you find what you've been seeking with the others.
I am strong enough to stand alone with God.
**** you for turning my marbles to your own platform.
Feliz cinco.
Que Dios te bendigo.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 11:16 PM UTC
Dans ce bar dont la porte
Sans cesse bat au vent
Une affiche écarlate
Vante un autre savon
Dansez dansez ma chère
Dansez nous avons des banjos
Oh
Qui me donnera seulement à mâcher
Les chewing-gums inutiles
Qui parfument très doucement
L'haleine des filles des villes
Épices dans l'alcool mesuré par les pailles
Et menthes sans raison barbouillant les liqueurs
Il est des amours sans douceurs
Dans les docks sans poissons où la barmaid
Défaille
Sous le fallacieux prétexte
Que je n'ai pas rasé ma barbe
Aux relents douteux d'un gin
Que son odorat devine
D'un bar du Massachussets
Au trente-troisième étage
Sous l'œil fixe des fenêtres
Arrête
Mon cœur est dans le ciel et manque de vertu
Mais les ascenseurs se suivent
Et ne se ressemblent pas
Le groom nègre sourit tout bas
Pour ne pas salir ses dents blanches
Ha si j'avais mon revolver
Pour interrompre la musique
De la chanson polyphonique
Des cent machines à écrire
Dans l'état de Michigan
Justement quatre-vingt-trois jours
Après la mort de quelqu'un
Trois joyeux garçons de velours
Dansèrent entre eux un quadrille
Dansèrent avec le défunt
Comme font avec les filles
Les gens de la vieille Europe
Dans les quartiers mal famés
Heureusement que leurs lèvres
Ignoraient les mots méchants
Car tous les trois étaient vierges
Comme on ne l'est pas longtemps.
766
The Doctor Will See You Now
holy cow and praise the Lord
things have changed and I got lucky
someone pulled on my ripcord
now my day won't be so sucky
I just got a message from the nurse
she said she heard my crying plea
be sure to bring your wallet or purse
cause this is really gonna cost you see
everyone knows that you're a whiner
phobia should be your middle name
from Oregon to South Carolina
always looking for someone to blame
I can hear the banjos picking in my head
blowing tones from an old brown jug
forgot to take my meds I said
my pulse is quick I've caught a bug
we all know that you are really sick
but it's not a cold, cough or even the flu
you could make an appointment with just a click
you just want attention paid to you
but the doctor split left me here alone
to deal with things and I don't know how
shut you face and get off the phone
the love Doctor will see you now
Gomer LePoet...
Sep 11, 2011
Sep 11, 2011 at 8:34 AM UTC
Trump supporters ...
we're supposed to be nice
& understanding
& not suggest
they all chew straw,
play banjos on porches,
or gnaw dogs legs
on rocks in the
desert sun,
that they don't
talk of Yankee money,
the good old days,
& shoot possums
& squirrels
on Saturdays
for fun,
that they actually
don't go courting
with their cousins,
are sure Barack was
a Kenyan Communist,
or think that the earth
is oh 4,000
years old or so,
cos The Good Book
dun told them so,
we're supposed to
be kind,
sympathetic,
walk a day
in their shoes,
feel their plight,
but its hard
its hard,
so hard,
when in actuality
they cast their lot
with a lying ignorant racist
just right out of
central casting,
in a Hillbilly remake
of The Last Days of Rome,
Richie Rich Goes to Washington,
or The Devil Rides Out Bigly.
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 9:33 PM UTC
i've got a soft
spot in my heart
for a good
harmonica solo
but also strings
banjos
synths
ukuleles
and tack piano makes
my heart skip a beat
don't even
get me started
on brass sections
they turn
me into a pile
of mush
so we can
conclude that
really just music
in general
makes me
disintegrate.
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 1:00 AM UTC