{"id":751,"date":"2026-04-06T05:08:45","date_gmt":"2026-04-06T11:08:45","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/talesofmanythings.com\/blog\/?p=751"},"modified":"2026-04-02T17:30:34","modified_gmt":"2026-04-02T23:30:34","slug":"the-odd-tale-of-tim-n-buck","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/talesofmanythings.com\/blog\/2026\/04\/06\/the-odd-tale-of-tim-n-buck\/","title":{"rendered":"The Odd Tale of Tim n\u2019 Buck"},"content":{"rendered":"

It\u2019s National Poetry Month, an annual event organized by the Academy of American Poets to raise awareness and appreciation for poetry in the United States, and I feel compelled to dig, just a little, into the use of language that can be a lot of fun. I hope you enjoy what I present over the next few weeks. It was a labor of love for me.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ages ago, when I was in college, I came across a humorous story about a poetry competition:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The National Poetry Contest had come down to two semifinalists: a Yale graduate and a redneck from Wyoming. They were given a word, then allowed two minutes to study the word and come up with a poem that contained the word. The word they were given was \u201cTimbuktu\u201d.<\/p>\n

First to recite his poem was the Yale graduate. He stepped to the microphone and said:<\/p>\n

Slowly across the desert sand
\nTrekked a lonely caravan.
\nMen on camels, two by two
\nDestination \u2013 Timbuktu.<\/p>\n

The crowd went crazy! No way could the redneck top that, they thought. The redneck calmly made his way to the microphone and recited:<\/p>\n

Me and Tim a-huntin\u2019 went,
\nMet three whores in a pop up tent.
\nThey was three, and we was two,
\nSo I bucked one, and Timbuktu.<\/p>\n

The redneck won hands down!<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

 <\/p>\n

Now, I know that this isn\u2019t real. It\u2019s a \u201ctall tale\u201d made into a joke, most likely by someone who hates Yale, but there\u2019s something more important for me here.<\/p>\n

I always struggle with non-rhyming poetry. I know that poetry can be \u201canything\u201d, but a good beat with a rhyme does a lot more for me.<\/p>\n

A good Yale alternative could have been:<\/p>\n

Slowly across the desert sand
\nTrekked a caravan so grand.
\nMen on camels, two by two
\nDestination \u2013 Timbuktu.<\/p>\n

or<\/p>\n

Slowly across the desert sand
\nTrekked a lonely caravan\u2019s band.
\nMen on camels, two by two
\nDestination \u2013 Timbuktu.<\/p>\n

or<\/p>\n

Slowly across the desert sand,
\nA lonely caravan did expand.
\nMen on camels, two by two
\nDestination \u2013 Timbuktu.<\/p>\n

or<\/p>\n

Slowly across the desert sand,
\nToward a distant, promised land.
\nMen on camels, two by two
\nDestination \u2013 Timbuktu.<\/p>\n

or<\/p>\n

Slowly across the desert sand,
\nRode a determined, weary band.
\nMen on camels, two by two
\nDestination \u2013 Timbuktu.<\/p>\n

or<\/p>\n

Slowly across the desert sand,
\nWith camels in a double strand,
\nMen on camels, two by two
\nDestination \u2013 Timbuktu.<\/p>\n

Each of these carries a specific flavor and an emotional image in the way the rhyme is presented. And that\u2019s really the secret to poetry. It\u2019s language primed to invoke emotion.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Or I can just do my own version, following the same rules:<\/p>\n

A journey far, a dusty hue,
\nTo ancient lands, both strange and new.
\nAcross the sands, the camels flew,
\nUntil we reached Timbuktu.<\/p>\n

or<\/p>\n

Across the desert sands so bright,
\nA caravan journeyed through the night.
\nTo Timbuktu, their destination grand,
\nA legendary city, in a distant land.<\/p>\n

or<\/p>\n

I dreamed I flew to Timbuktu,
\nOn skies of gold and oceans blue.
\nThe desert sang a lullaby,
\nBeneath a moonlit, endless sky.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s where the flavor hides. Just a few different words create a completely different feel in the same poem.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I can probably beat the Yale guy, but I don\u2019t have the trashy style of the redneck to be able to compete. But I can try. So better yet,<\/p>\n

I can likely take down the Yale guy with ease,
\nBut the redneck\u2019s trash talk is a different expertise.
\nI\u2019ll give it a go, with a humble grin,
\nAnd hope that my skills will help me win.<\/p>\n

Poetry can be beautiful because of how it expresses thoughts. A stanza can have a sharper edge than a paragraph.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

But regular poetry isn\u2019t as much fun as making the piece more robust and running with it punk rock<\/u> style.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Trash Talk Takedown<\/strong><\/p>\n

Fast, distorted acoustic guitar riff kicks in \u2013 think heavily strummed power chords on open strings. The bassline is a simple, driving two-note pulse. Drums smash in with a raw, energetic beat.<\/p>\n

Verse 1 <\/strong>\u2013 snarled vocals with a slight sneer:<\/p>\n

Yale-boy prep? Ha! A walk in the park!
\nBrain fulla books, but heart\u2019s cold and dark!
\nCan probably smash him, no sweat on my brow!
\nIntellectual punkdown! Right here, right now!<\/p>\n

Chorus <\/strong>– shouting with aggressive energy:<\/p>\n

But that redneck scum! Different kind of fight!
\nTrash-talk barbed wire bard, cuttin\u2019 through the night!
\nExpertise in ignorance! A weapon hard to beat!
\nGonna give it a go! Taste defeat! (maybe!)<\/p>\n

Verse 2 <\/strong>– slightly more hesitant, but still defiant:<\/p>\n

Gonna try a smile! A weapon of the weak!
\nHope my so-called \u201cskills\u201d ain\u2019t utterly bleak!
\nDive right in! Head first in the mud!
\nPray to the punk gods I don\u2019t wind up a dud!<\/p>\n

Chorus <\/strong>– even more frantic and desperate:<\/p>\n

But that redneck scum! Different kind of fight!
\nDirt road laureate, cuttin\u2019 through the night!
\nExpertise in ignorance! A weapon hard to beat!
\nGonna give it a go! Taste defeat! (definitely!)<\/p>\n

Outro \u2013 fast, chaotic acoustic guitar strumming fade out with feedback. The bass hits a final, distorted low note. Drums crash to a messy halt.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

I\u2019d like to take the opportunity over the month of April to explore the bigger tale of the two rednecks and three, potentially smarter, country gals. It\u2019ll be a new twist to an old story, but I hope it\u2019ll be epic in its own way. After all, it\u2019s National Poetry Month and what better time to explore the realm of rhyming words? And do it in different artistic styles, to boot! The gals really deserve a last word in this matter.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

From the Country Gals\u2019 Perspective<\/strong><\/p>\n

Me, Belle and Sue camped out west,
\nBright stars above, just takin\u2019 a rest.
\nTwo fellas wandered, lost and hot,
\nTalkin\u2019 brave, but thinkin\u2019 not.<\/p>\n

They said, \u201cWe\u2019re headed somewhere grand!\u201d
\nA map upside-down in a shaky hand.
\nWe smiled sweet and said, \u201cThat\u2019s true
\nYou\u2019re headin\u2019 nowhere near Timbuktu.\u201d<\/p>\n

We had three tents, they lacked two brains,
\nBoth already lost in the desert plains.
\nWe kept our fire, our food, our loot\u2014
\nThey kept walkin\u2019, what a hoot!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Come back. I\u2019ll have some more trash talk poetry to share next Monday.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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