"shotgun" poems - Hello Poetry

Kevan Fuchs died today in his sleep In a similar way as his father of one And actually, also my father did too Of those bitter, big cancer scourges Which always come in unexpected In this short enough life, a bit early I've known him ever since first, when We were knee high to Dad's shotgun Throughout our small neighborhood We would all roam to see and look For ***** toads and such other fun Without any known end in our sights We often, came all together, at once In his parent's, little Clovis back yard In the under ground, in our deep dug Wild little clubhouse of our new pride Approved by our jealous Dad's stare Made all by ourselves, with great care Eight by eight, with three feet of deep Shagged carpet floors, walls around And places to hide stuff with those **** magazines we wished to remain Unseen by our parents, although they Surely lived through similar wild times Black lights , fluorescent mod posters Fans to cool, while there in the deep Kept the place comfy, from several Hot summers in New Mexico's heat Staying nights over, in conspiracy we Came colluding, while hoping no fame This place was our place, of known Refuge from all of the big crazy, with Frightening world still yet to come Giving us our youngest freedoms And also so much being in trouble As kinda neighborhood hoodlums Far up his Dad's, tall, two-way radio tower One of us in care would climb With binoculars to see the dark night With our pair of walkie talkies held Warn the others, carousing around Of any plight, in appearing headlights Kevan's brother, still alive, Keith My other brother by another, Buddy Also at first, a weird guy, named Chris One other member, as second cousin Who actually, was my very first kiss When it was hard to aim, lips to miss All bound as one, by made up signs And part of something called PSO Which, if you don't know well, what it Truly means, then you were definitely Not a part of the so very high bliss Which we suffered through so often Kevan's true nature is clearly proven Finally, most completely, at his end In the nature of his wonderful loving All his family, who also so loved him And all those other parties to trouble Who also so loved, really all of him © 2017 Jim Davis

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May 4, 2017

May 4, 2017 at 9:18 AM UTC

jbdvet75

The Clubhouse

Kevan Fuchs died today in his sleep In a similar way as his father of one And actually, also my father did too Of those bitter, big cancer scourges Which always come in unexpected In this short enough life, a bit early I've known him ever since first, when We were knee high to Dad's shotgun Throughout our small neighborhood We would all roam to see and look For ***** toads and such other fun Without any known end in our sights We often, came all together, at once In his parent's, little Clovis back yard In the under ground, in our deep dug Wild little clubhouse of our new pride Approved by our jealous Dad's stare Made all by ourselves, with great care Eight by eight, with three feet of deep Shagged carpet floors, walls around And places to hide stuff with those **** magazines we wished to remain Unseen by our parents, although they Surely lived through similar wild times Black lights , fluorescent mod posters Fans to cool, while there in the deep Kept the place comfy, from several Hot summers in New Mexico's heat Staying nights over, in conspiracy we Came colluding, while hoping no fame This place was our place, of known Refuge from all of the big crazy, with Frightening world still yet to come Giving us our youngest freedoms And also so much being in trouble As kinda neighborhood hoodlums Far up his Dad's, tall, two-way radio tower One of us in care would climb With binoculars to see the dark night With our pair of walkie talkies held Warn the others, carousing around Of any plight, in appearing headlights Kevan's brother, still alive, Keith My other brother by another, Buddy Also at first, a weird guy, named Chris One other member, as second cousin Who actually, was my very first kiss When it was hard to aim, lips to miss All bound as one, by made up signs And part of something called PSO Which, if you don't know well, what it Truly means, then you were definitely Not a part of the so very high bliss Which we suffered through so often Kevan's true nature is clearly proven Finally, most completely, at his end In the nature of his wonderful loving All his family, who also so loved him And all those other parties to trouble Who also so loved, really all of him © 2017 Jim Davis