The ranch on which I hang my hat, though short on most the frills,
Is thirteen sections, give or take, of rugged trails an’ hills.
We call it ‘home’, our little world, our very own frontier,
Amongst the cattle, sheep an' goats; the varmints, hogs an' deer.
Today I watched the breakin' dawn an' whiffed the mornin' air,
A time I often set aside for things like thought an' prayer.
A Mockin'bird an' Mornin' Dove, an' other birds at play,
Were there to sing an' set the mood to start another day.
This mornin' saw the strangest thing, like time itself had merged,
An' all the souls who once were here, appeared an' then converged.
In swirlin' clouds of mist an' fog, right off the bluffs they rolled,
Till all had gathered in the glen, the modern an' the old.
The Indians, conquistadors, an' other ancient men,
The soldiers from this country's wars, an' cowboys from back when…
They all had come from yesterday to help me understand
Our link with those who came before, to heritage an' land.
A crazy notion, so I thought, that they could just appear,
But as the morning went along the reason got real clear.
They rode along with me that day to show me things I’ve missed,
The things I’ve seen a thousand times an’ some I’d just dismissed.
Those wagon roads of long ago, still evident today,
Are carved in rock an' rutted earth, not apt to wash away.
They linked the missions, forts an' towns those many years gone by;
An' left their mark for all to see, as modern times grew nigh.
The artifacts an' weathered ruins attest to yesterdays,
When others came an' lived their lives in very different ways.
We've seen their skill in arrowheads they honed from fired stone,
An' craftsmanship in beads an' tools they fashioned out of bone.
At ever turn and trail we took was something to remind,
The Maker must have had a plan laid out for humankind.
The Earth He made’s been feedin' us a half-a-million years,
An' used it's wonder, force an' change to challenge pioneers.
I do not know if they'll return or if they’ll feel the need,
But I’m prepared to ride the trail, where ever it may lead.
We all are spirits ridin’ time with bodies of the Earth,
Whose time has come to take the reins an’ offer up our worth.
The land has been the legacy we cultivate an’ reap,
The life has been the heritage our father’s fought to keep,
An’ we are bound throughout our time with those who came before,
To put our hearts and souls to it, and make it something more.
Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2009
I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend
I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies
through speaking my thoughts into existence
I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen
I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry
I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards
I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels
I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent of it
I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?
I AM, THAT, I AM
Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012
we strive to make sure
each day enlightens us
and brightens us
even as light fades to gray
may we keep fighting
with two swollen feet
beneath the body and soul
and intense life lessons
meshed with stresses
may we persevere
turn off fear's song
may we stand firm
as we glide along
through shifty winds of change
that may cause things to sway
but we hold true
inside the values and morality
we stand for
fall for nothing
may stumble along the trip
may swerve at the wheel yet
do not lose our grip
because no one
can eclipse the sun
before they're done
Just when situations arise
flooding us with pain we despise
and just when it seems like
our tear ducts are dry
from ongoing cries
we may think
things are on the brink of ending
then God shows us the ways of faith
by way of love that he's sending
we make sure
every day enlightens us
and brightens us
as each day takes its turn.
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2012
Born of glaciers, rivers flow,
turquoise ice and untouched snow,
deep green valleys far below,
ancient stands of hardwoods grow.
Icy rivers running deep,
through the mountain's midnight sleep,
darkened waters crest and leap,
earthbound secrets rivers keep.
Stoically the mountains stand,
nurturing the age-old land,
born before mere time began,
when Earth was pure, devoid of man.
River rocks were once rough stone,
water-smoothed, by eons honed,
each grain of sand is sand alone,
truths unspoken lie unknown.
Listen to the waters speak,
every river, ocean, creek,
there lie answers all must seek,
flowing from the mountain's peak.
Copyright © Danielle White | Year Posted 2008
Now my tendrilled soul,
Has found its pergola-- Christ--
To wind its way up....
Copyright © EMMANUEL SAMSON | Year Posted 2007
You are the wild flower in my palm
With no stem to keep you anchored to this covetous earth
You are the fragile thing I dare not cup,
As your petals whittle away under the wind
And flit unfettered in the air;
Exaggerated fear leaves my fingers numb
Hungry need leaves my fingers twitching
And my hand is paralyzed by turmoil
As every breath of wind takes another petal from me
And brings to my lungs, my chest and my heart
An overwhelming scent of need-
You are the wild beauty in my palm
And I dare not hold you to my chest
For I fear to crush you
To know first hand
That caged beauty, is beauty no more.
Copyright © Samir Georges | Year Posted 2011
what grows from these petri dishes?
when will these hives
with their metal monsters
their deceiving smiles
their artistic like visages
like a virus?
what of the fertile land they cover,
the resources they consume?
what of their ravenous appetite?
a forest untouched.
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
You think you’re alone out on the range
Sittin’ silent under starry sky,
Just a marvelin’ at the universe
And wonderin’ ‘bout that ol’ question: why?
You shake your head at worlds of worry,
Knowin’ it ain’t often that you’ll find,
All the answers to your queries
Beneath the clear black sky and pine.
You wonder if we rose up from mud
And walked straight and tall upon this earth—
Or was it all created in a moment—
A conception that gave us true birth.
Are we all no more than those monkeys
Evolvin’ slowly down life’s long line?
Or is there more to earth and heaven
Touched by something truly sublime?
We keep on punchin’ clocks and cattle
And tryin’ to get through each new morn—
But is there more to life than dyin’
And will we somehow be reborn?
All the cattle know my hard proddin’
As I lead them along time’s sad way—
We live for but a flashin’ moment,
As we watch life go by in one short day.
So make the best of trails you ride, cowboy—
Each tomorrow is both yours and mine—
And gaze long at stars in that vast sky
Placed there by intelligent design.
Copyright © Glen Enloe | Year Posted 2005
Sad Heart, now thou art wither’d from the Sun,
What man, or god, will near thee run?
Wrought in twist like branches in Tempests' gasp,
What Comfort, or Gauze, shall be near to grasp?
True ones begotten are the ones now Rotten
And the ones now Rotten will never be forgotten
They are merely sad remains of assiduous Tears
That have been meddl’d with and tatter’d Raw throughout the years
And thou, cruel Mind, that sat’st still thru toiling trail of Night;
Must dream your broken Dreams; thou’rt a sanely flight!
Can thou extinguish passions of Fire, Disease, or Rain?
—tho thy distinguish’d influence trains to abstain
Thy Remnants brought to debris in thy Empty street,
Devour’d by Vultures, their bestow’d beaks entreat
Merely are they cleaning an inexhaustible Mess
Alas! Leaving thy rudiments of Identity to redress....
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2012
Our Human Nature
A real aspect always part of a person’s life;
One that can bear fangs and pangs of strife.
A living barometer replete with its choices;
Leaving each of us puzzled, full of voices.
It prays on our very emotions and naiveté,
Leaving us at times in moments of disarray.
Man by his nature is fickle and imperfect.
God by His nature is divine and perfect.
A person’s decency is so wonderful to tell;
Another’s depravity is so worthy of Hell!
A person’s good deeds mark now his true measure,
Bringing him God’s divine love always to treasure!
Never trust what you can’t feel deep in your heart;
This makes us divine in God’s eyes—sets us apart!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(January 5, 2016) (Rhymed Couplet)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2016
Flowers of the Curious Mind
Sent were flowers of the curious mind
following echoes of Cantu's muse
No curses , words grossly unkind
insults hidden deeply in clever ruse
Dare not stab sweet music of mortal man
with deeds sordidly played tho' sweet
Transgress not Nature's surviving plan
with arrogant contempt born of defeat
Embrace life's melody as a lost friend
dancing within it's tune so fine
Live, live gloriously until life's end
drink, drink richly of it's finest wine!
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2014
Adrift in this vast,
empty sea. Silent,
save for the beckoning call
of distant gulls,
your only friend. And
the makeshift mast and sail is
by the dangling sway,
moss-green ribbons of waving kelp,
is the dark murk
of unknown depths.
Then the wind
arousing your sail and
it swells into life
and draws you towards home.
Copyright © Rickie Elpusan | Year Posted 2005
Connecting with nature
Walking along I find peace…
Autumn leaves surround me
Crunching rhythms at my feet
I Step inside harmony ~
Brown leaves start swirling
A Tiny tornado forming
Admiringly…I stand glowing…
A mighty wind blows off my hat
Quickly…I wonder …what was that?
As I hold onto my head
It blows away end over end
Nature playing games instead
My gracious hat…ahead it blew
I ran after it fast and true~
Blown up against a Willow
Floppy hat blocked indeed
Tiny raindrops starting to fall
Cool drops kiss my cheek
Nature’s spirits forever speak ~
Copyright © Jane Bowen | Year Posted 2008
Golden objects are most outstanding,
But without loving, they are missing flavor.
But let’s not forget stunning silver,
That the maid often loves to savor.
And brilliant copper, with its rosy sheen,
That every craftsman should well know.
But cold iron, as Kipling likes to say,
From all of these, takes the show.
Not mentioned yet, but not to be overlooked,
Is platinum, our bright and lustrous pal.
Thought to be impure for thousands of years,
But now more valuable than them all.
Copyright © Albert Price | Year Posted 2006
The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark
The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark.
Copyright © John Paluszek | Year Posted 2013
Through a fluttering veil of luscious hues,
Fair Lady coquets with the majestic Sun,
As the wicked Wind caresses her tender cheek,
The harshness of Winter all undone.
Sparrows perched upon the towering trees,
Whistle sweetly at the colorful array.
Fair Lady hums and sways in warm ecstasy,
As the wicked Wind drifts away.
The sinful Sun glows after a wearying day,
And spans its gaze upon the fields of fruit.
Fair Lady drowsy, lies upon the prickly grass;
The darkness envelops as all goes mute.
Copyright © Deepanshi Chaudhry | Year Posted 2010
Full is the sea of your memories
Seaweed meadowed, deep cave treasuries
Stories that summon the lost and curious
Legends embossed in silent reveries
Drift the illumined waves of your home
Wide the blue realms in which you may roam
Your spirit alive beyond undersea depths
In echoes of songs over silver green foam.
What is it - what does the mermaid know
Beyond the clouds and the winds that blow
That she is woman and nature combined
Her wisdom of this on mankind will bestow
Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2014
TEA WITH ALIENS
Starburst all, and dark of depth
to travel deep in space, they wept.
From sadness in their search, to find
some "Others" just like them, a sign.
That they were not alone, a speck,
and other planets made this trek.
At other times they wanted difference
and made experimental inference.
To fly their ships out into space,
to find themselves a different race.
They'd build a new home way out there
to save themselves from dark despair.
They'd find a place just like their home
and build the Earth beneath a dome.
They'd mock the water, light, and sea
and summon alien's home to tea.
They'd learn from them new tricks and grace
and share with Earth, from outer space.
Back on Earth, they sought a sameness,
yet their crimes of hate were aimless.
They could never call to tea,
their neighbors different by degree.
Politics, and faiths, diverse,
"Them" and "Us" became their curse.
Ever looking for each other,
in the stars but under cover.
Seeking creatures, sweet and thin,
Alien folks with elegant skin.
And if they prayed to lesser gods,
they'd teach them how, that their's were frauds.
They'd be Space Cowboys or Pioneers,
and soldier forth their last frontiers.
They'd search for planets, clean and new,
and look for green and search for blue.
Two moons were good, and clustered stars,
they'd go out there and homestead Mars!
Earthlings different, each one rare,
divergent colors, and creed and prayer.
In every spirit, face and name,
the story there is all the same.
They do not see they found their treat,
the heaven sought is at their feet.
They wrecked this spaceship here called Earth,
and took their children's sense of worth.
Arranging tea parties for détente,
with humans acting nonchalant.
"Them and us" it came to be,
while visiting aliens and sipping tea.
Copyright © Edlynn Nau | Year Posted 2015
'Tis strange where we should get the notion
That poetry expressed in motion
Should within the human form reside.
When nature gives us many chances
Unpractised and ephemeral dances
Like in a muddy field when sheep collide
Truth is, that nature's not so humble
And doesn't mind the dancer's stumble
There's nothing that it ever seeks to hide
Uncaring it leaves all revealed
And is not shamed if one small field
Has crazy sheep and one long muddy slide
They're mad, they're bad, they're having fun
Those naughty sheep and every one
Is doing what convention has denied
The hillside's muddy, wet and slick
With crazy sheepies sliding quick
Down to the bottom, down where sheep collide.
Many count good nature's fare
The birdsong and the country air
Among the wonders of the countryside
But strange delight can yet be found
In woolly bodies sliding round
A simple muddy field where sheep collide.
While nature guides celestial spheres
In cosmic dances, it appears,
With majesty the earthborn are denied
Down far beneath in mud and grass
A sheep slides on its woolly a***:
A sense of fun, though not a sense of pride.
Copyright © Lee Leon | Year Posted 2010
I am whatever you say I am...
but, let's get back to reality...
Three short years ago, this room shined welcome mats across a screen of doldrums.
A place of unfamiliarity that screamed,
"You don't belong!"
Yet, a voice of reason spoke and said,
"Expand yir' roots. Venture beyond the comfort zone. Academia resides inside that room, but know you won't be alone."
Repeatedly,brainwaves declined what my wife and editor had told me.
"no way, I'm givin' up my soul for free, they read, they pay, like it's always been, the way it's going to always be!"
Unbeknownst to me one day, and with a slight of hand, my "Open Sores" were put on display and surprisingly more than a handful of great ladies and nice guys began to give feedback on what I had devised.
This interaction was something very new, helpful, and impressive. For a change, it was something real.
For years, those around me were quick to give praise with hidden reasons. Constructive criticism is amazing, and I welcomed being corrected or set straight.
Now there are those who choose to shut me down without explanation, and call me names.
DO NOT mistake me for sophomoric! These words bleeding from my guts have no style and need no approval. There is no thinking involved here, no plan. If you don't like it, fine...don't censor or bracket me in. So what if I am illiterate? If you don't like "street poetry" or the pathetic stuff I write, don't read it. If I offend you, tell me.
We should welcome those who are different than us.
Words of truth inspire movement, like fire.
I came to this room to expand my horizons, step outside the box, learn, help, grow.
There will be no apologies dealt for being different, or for being labelled as something uncomfortable to you.
This has been an ok room so far, but there is some clique trickanery going on.
If the dictionary must come into play, let me recommend looking up the term "Poetic License."
True, I may not be the writer you prefer, or aspire to be....but tread carefully my friend, for you have no idea of my profession. I've made a fine living, for a good long time, spewing words onto paper. I came from nothing, and may still be nothing to you...still, I do what I love, have no boss.
I am not an aspiring writer who dreams of a life, I live my dream. In conclusion, I must wish you luck in finding what you peddle poetry for. Until then, keep
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011
a twisted tree
casts a single shadow -
mirage on horizon
Copyright © Suzette Richards | Year Posted 2013
Sanguine blush, outreaching its origin,
Roses bloom across the painting.
The sky extends its insubstantial limb,
Spreading its fingers- in gesture towards you.
A great fan, coral but crimson,
Shifting, yet still- tumbling across eternity.
The horizon appears, in a flash of pink rainbow,
Love, of the universe, of humanity,
Of life, appears… and evaporates; a gradual decline,
of colour; but so sudden too,
And we are left once more,
Copyright © Sasha Edl | Year Posted 2011
A strange sight upon a lonely road.
A dream ripped in half.
Looking closer, I wonder what was the travail.
An old price tag attached, making me wonder at what price it was sold.
Along the edges, tattered and torn, it gave forth an evil laugh.
As if some sly devil concocted a way to turn someone pale.
Onward I traveled, with pack upon my back.
To the left and right of the road were littered with more broken dreams.
So many that one could not keep track.
Some having been blown into the parallel stream.
So, I checked the pack upon my back.
And, yep all my dreams were there in a stack.
Cold winds howl, trying to rip my back pack to shreds.
Freezing were the winds, but forward I march.
Never losing sight of my dreams in spite of many dreads.
They all hold up strong even though many times I'm in a lurch.
Suddenly I see people returning to the road.
Going back and picking up their dreams.
Dusting them off and restoring them to their pack.
Each and every one said to me, you are quite bold.
To go forth and not let the cold winds of fate not destroy your knack.
To face life as it comes and not give up even if offered gold.
Good, bad fortune, are likewise of no importance.
Put a failed dream back in your pack and maybe a new day will appear.
Where you can unpack that dream and give it another go.
But, for today, march forward, today's failure might tomorrow's dance.
You gave it your best, and win or lose, that game has ended with a spear.
Win or lose, that game is done so pack it's knowledge away in your pack and grow.
Suddenly down the road a new vista appears and a brand new game.
Left high and dry or victorious are the two possible ends of any venture.
But in truth, knowledge is all you will have, win or lose.
For tomorrows game is just around the bend, all the same.
Win or lose, the game of life only ends for the moment within sight of the new adventure.
So, to quit and call it the end, only makes you look like a goose.
Copyright © James Ray Morris | Year Posted 2010
I do not know?
I see you
When sad and feeling down,
These words I like to say.
For sweet lord beside me in my life,
I fear not, come what may.
Lord I see you.
In the cotton clouds,
That floats on high above,
I see you.
In the gentle breeze,
And the snow white turtle dove.
I see you,
As the skies grow dark,
As colors contrast against the grey,
I see you,
In the warm glowing sun,
That makes up the summer day.
I see you,
As the mighty oceans rant,
There waves crashing on the shore.
I see you,
On the ice cold tips,
Where the mountains start to soar.
I see you,
In the colour flora,
That covers mother earth.
I see you,
Through a child eyes,
And the precious gift of birth.
For all these things my heart gives praise,
That makes up are waking lives.
The lessons learned and I travel home,
And reborn again reprised.
© N windle 2009
Copyright © nicholas windle | Year Posted 2009
Metaphysical Moment (The Haiku)
Metaphysical Moment …
… Nature’s Mysteries
This Haiku is for:
The Haiku Master ‘Raul’ Moreno
Metaphysical Poet Extraordinaire’ (smile))
Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009
death’s breath is warm
a welcome reprieve in the
winter of life
Sponsor: Charles Henderson
Contest Name: HAIKU 101 FOR NEWBIES TO HAIKU AND/OR POETRY SOUP CONTESTS
Copyright © Suzette Richards | Year Posted 2012
I do not know?
Don't worry child
Don't let fear
Don’t worry child
Still needs you
You will find life
When you find
Don’t worry child
Beside the cold trees
Find your way out
Find the life inside
Don’t worry child
May the branches of doubt
Lead you to the leaves
Where everything is calm and green
Away from the screaming steam
Don’t worry child
in the forest
Between the ashes and shadows
A mystic soul shines
Among the trees of life
Always by your side
Don’t worry child
Your soul is bright
Your tree will shine
You will find
You are one of a kind
So Don’t worry child!
Copyright © Mostafa Ibraheim | Year Posted 2014
What does it feel like to wake up into your skin?
What do you feel first most days?
Is it in any way influenced by gratitude,
or totally given over to worry,
anxiety about your shortness of time?
Is this life the one you had in mind as a child?
When did this that you do to fill your days and years become your dream?
Or is it your nightmare?
Or something in between?
If so, which parts are closest to your dream
and what were you doing
with whom and why
as this became your dream?
Were these relationships good dream mentors for you?
How did you get to this day, this place, this vocation?
When did your nightmare start
and is it something more than the fear
of your own cherished dream's loss?
What is that one thing that sets you apart,
that is your unique character fingerprint?
How is your identity unique from all others alive now,
or in the past,
or in future generations?
And, if your uniqueness is no one thing,
but a constellation of attributes,
characteristics, dreams, fears, wisdom,
aspirations, relationships, memories,
then how is any one of those unique to you,
and if none is,
after due consideration,
then how are you not part of me
and all that is related to you
that is also related to others
that are less directly related to you,
on back to the emergence of memory capacity itself?
What do you imagine was that first memory?
Do you think it was of longing or belonging,
or somehow both,
like the contentment waiting within harmonic contention,
resolution waving toward our future revolution,
still co-arising in noncontentious background?
Is contentment intuited as informat-ionic,
nonlanguaged syntax of sequentially reasonal logos,
to know and love nature's wise resolving resolutions,
without, as within?
Evolution and Revolution each grow, respectively,
Yin- and Yang-temporal resolved,
slow and fast-paced momentum
optimizing balanced incoming diastolic form,
with outgoing memory-folded contentment,
Could prime permacultural balance,
optimize enculturation's meaning
by minimizing future's monoculturally rapacious dissonance
and co-passionate awe?
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015
I do not know?
To the divinity within all of us
The wind blows outside my window
Reeling mercilessly against the trees.
Its power deployed, their will to destroy
And I can hear them yell in rebellion.
Daring the wind to try with all its might
Had gone there before, they know the score.
They know the fury the wind can carry
Whatever is in store, they cannot ignore.
They stand out, proud, arms stretched out
Bonded are their souls, holding the same goal.
Their unity, a fortress that found no distress
They would face this trial as they did those prior.
It was their legacy born in tenacity
From the beginning, it was God given.
So that man would come to understand
The extent of his God given potential.
To walk his way through life's hills and valleys
Building character, until he is one in heart with the Creator.
Copyright © 6/1/10.
Copyright © Caroline Cécile Delacroix | Year Posted 2010
a single white rose
given to the one you want -
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2008