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.
What’s In The Urn
Strangers offered me to join them in a drink
I met them on a mountain edge while skiing
They seemed like friendly normal people then
So what could happen in a simple cabin?
Finding that which is not there or vanquished
What is there that cannot be perceived?
Placed upon the mantel piece are ashes in the cabin
Brass vase, a receptacle for lost souls sits in repose
A death vase to glare at over cognac
By the sober flames cast by
A fire place glow observed in action
Liquid spirits pour out their poison
In the cozy living room inside the cabin
Drinks alone cannot remove this feeling of distraction
The urn is piercing through my soul
People belong in cemeteries you know
With all due respect for the dead
Scatter them at sea when they‘re deceased
Not paraded around in gloom to cause unease
Or as a center piece for living rooms
I’m not relieved to find it is a lizard on the shelf
To be exact, an exotic iguana family friend entombed
And to assume that fact makes this matter optimal
I beg to differ on that point and voice my opinion later
There must be a plot of ground outside
Or toilet somewhere to flush it down
But better left unsaid, as they are bereaved about the death
And I am their invited guest
Iguana tried consuming the family’s cat
Another favorite pet
It is surmise, that’s how it met its end
Ended up expired inside the urn
The receptacle was there and going nowhere on its own
I swear it follows me from room to room
By embers glow and ash, shadowing my every move
A brass smile casting off the urn, leaving me concerned
I could not take my leave
The container followed me
So I waited, fixated on the thing
Is it coming back to life to eat more bugs or me?
Finding that which is not there
Is easier in the dark
Rising to the occasion of the day that breaks
I must escape the premises to continue skiing
Into the frozen world outside I fly
With no discernible signs or paths to lead or learn
I get away, no time to say good-byes or find my way
Never again will I say; what’s in the urn
When doves on evenings, calm and still, call out a hollow tone,
They rouse a medley, old as time, so few have ever known.
The whispered lines of its refrains resound of yesterday,
In ancient tales and bygone trails that man cannot portray.
I’ve rode and worked along a trail throughout my many years.
I’ve heard the tales the sages tell of raging Longhorn steers,
Of soldiers marching single file or mounted days on end,
Of Indians, conquistadors and Rangers tracking men.
Mackenzie Trail is not well known for time obscures its fame,
But high regard is placed on it by those who know its name.
Its story’s scribed in black and white, its remnants etched in stone,
Its way was marked by sweat and blood, by grave and bleaching bone.
The broad frontier that it traversed had yet to be surveyed
And danger seemed to lie in wait at every turn and grade.
From Fort Clark Springs to forts on north, it led Mackenzie’s men
To risk their lives out on the trail, then brought them home again.
A mound lies near Mackenzie Lake, where horse thieves met despair,
For Rangers tracked their hurried trail and hung them then and there.
And near a barn not far away, in Live Oaks’ blissful shade,
The remnants of a camp still lie where soldiers often laid.
I’ve rode the trail and damned the rock that cost my horse a shoe.
I’ve crossed its draws that filled with rain and made my lips turn blue.
Its rugged paths have tested me and all who’ve come this way,
Yet, it remains my trail through time, my bond with yesterday.
Mackenzie Trail will long survive, a monument to will,
That I recall when I ride near on evenings, calm and still;
When doves exclaim in harmony, their lonely, hollow tone
And rouse the medley, old as time, so few have ever known.
Once there was a soldier boy,
young and brave and smart.
He had some questions bugging him,
they tore his brain apart.
He went along to ask his friends-
''Why there can't be peace?''
They just laughed into his face,
''Let us tell you what peace means:
';Peace means love, peace means hope
peace means painless, fearless trust.
There's no love, there's no hope,
all the fearless lay in dust.''
He went along to ask the trees,
the plants and flowers too.
Then they all replied to him
''Answers we have few:
People kill themselves and us,
they cut us up for fire.
And with the fire that they cut
the tension becomes higher.''
Soldier boy then went to war,
questions still in mind.
He kept on searching in the field,
for answers he can't find.
He walked up to the enemy,
beat starts to increase.
''Tell me, good man, tell me please
why there can't be peace?''
The man pointed his gun to him,
aiming to his heart.
''I'm sorry, young man,'', then he said
''I really hate this part.''
Once there was a soldier boy,
young and smart and brave.
He had some questions bugging him,
they took him to his grave.
Deep in the woods, a cottage lies,
deep in the core of it,
and gazing out with empty eyes,
twins by a window sit.
Deep in their thoughts, they sit, these two,
above their shack, a shroud
of limbs from trees block any view
of sun, or moon or cloud.
Deep in their hearts, they had to know
they shared a secret sin.
In dark, sweet flowers cannot grow
when jealousy creeps in.
Deep in the night, the cold winds gust.
The leaves from a fresh dirt mound.
The winds, as strong as two maids’ lust,
now move the leaves around.
Deep in the ground, lies one who came
by chance. He did no wrong
but put twin virgin hearts aflame. . .
then stay a bit too long.
Deep into sleep, each woman dreams
of the love she yearns for still
and shivers to recall the screams
of the man both had to kill.
for Skat's Dark and Deep (old poems only)Contest
Whisper Of Your Soul
(Soul Listens On A Whisper)
Murmurs soft are sensed, mimic nature, diaphanous clouds spread wide
Settle softer than a translucent butterfly on spring light snow
It is the moon flirting in ebullience, fog rising on a thin film on winds side
Lifting skirts or is it veils? Unknown in this muted light of whispers glow
Mist rolls across the bog, pulls along reluctant virgin night
By golden glow, that holds the sky in humble hush, abeyance in a trance
Tracking down the birth of morning, bursting full of light
Barely able to mutter the words, “the light of day”, the endless dance
You feel the vibrant tones, fold over meadows as you go
A vestigial tiny vessel of a virgin’s secret opens here
Chasing dark away along the marsh with pounding heart to know
The open glen is near, fills up in brilliant colors clear
Soft luscious sounds fall silent on the morning air and then
Listen, it whispers on the minutia of the moment something true
Holds on to quiet in the silent glen
Waiting on a whisper Imbued with truth, soft thoughts of you
Created on 12/16/14 for “Whisper Of Your Soul” Poetry Contest Sponsored by Gail Angel Doyle
Between The Kisses And Distances
What is that shape now taking place out there?
If distance could have a name it would be passion
A hunger for my love as she draws near
Eye candy on the wind is fashioned
Distances grow remote, in a faraway place
Filled with emptiness and the unknown
I’m fevered, with anxiety, until I see her face
Until she is here with me and safe at home
I study every step my precious love makes
Coming from the distance brings her closer still
A small figure against what a vast landscape takes
Hair flowing out along the cliffs and hills
Between the kisses and distances mysteries are born
Like magic she appears with glowing face and smiles
Our love will keep us fireplace warm
To savor Valentine embraces and kisses along the miles
Created on 1/21/15 for Mystic Rose’s – “Magic Kisses And Valentine Wishes” – Poetry contest
I think feel a breeze
A breeze and a touch of horror
Something makes my breath seize
The stings of inner torture
The beast of the dark just passes
I hear the pings of its awfulness
Horrible snuffs complementing terrible masses
Something grip me here – oh fearfulness!
Now what – silence…
The quietness of the graveyard
I sense trouble in disguise
Only that worse turns bad
Oh wait, I can see
Slow approaches of eye balls
The burning eyes of the black beast
Monster, you, coming for me or my pulse
This is it my adventure fiasco
In the ever-dark ghost room
I would rather die like a hero
Behind this locked door with my rheum
As I’ll lay my back on this door
Oh beast feast, on me feast
I can hear quacks as I fall
…the door open at least
Massacre! Oh massacre of the beast
Sun ray-the enemy of the dark monster
Came in for its burnt feast
Because the door opened
The look of pity on the saleswoman's face said it all
my paint spattered clothing, however the jeans fit
just didn't have that panache, chic pizazz, tongue hanging
inspiration for desire a young woman out to have.
The car dealer took one look at me, led me to the far
corner of the lot, showed me the used hot rods
the beater four doors, the budget cutters like I'd rode
but I wanted glossy black, silver hood ornament, brand new.
Paint is supposed to sit on top of your nails, but underneath
is advantageous when compared to oil, to muck, to dirty guts
so I was a step on the ladder of the working man,
I could even afford to buy hose, which I still don't wear.
There's something to be said for the over glasses, safety
glasses look, white paper coat, something comical
one supposes, but the purple overalls worn for skiing
which suddenly I could afford, made me my nephews joke.
At times I waited for a date who preferred the bar
called and said maybe later, because passion rumbled
between us when we kissed but I didn't want a flit,
disease, broken promise, I wanted to be embraced
Cozy now, body motion are promises and content
passion is beyond me, the bar on the patio in back
the hand I always hold a missing app that answers
more lonely than any mistaken wish that he'd be the one.
Stars, too, I climbed to them in my dream, climbed
the Space Needle and found my self with no safety net
I always avoided those climbs the dreams more nightmare
even though I do what I am told, to reach, to soar.
Sometimes now I wear black on gold dresses which fit
to the nth inch, so I can barely sit, hold champagne
to watch golden bubbles float against the elegant
white linen against starry night event, that's rich, success.
Dump it gladly for a romp on the beach, the missing
something like threads through a woven maze,
like an angel's hope. When I dump it all and seek
there's grace lying on the shores between the rocks
a pooled place where deer come to lick minerals,
boulders come unglued and sail down river
and think, maybe I could do that. Maybe I could
unglue all the expectations and rearrange the world.
A dog! A panic in a pagoda!
Rex sneaked in with a can of cream soda,
he shook it up hard and then pulled the tab.
But Rex was too slow for their choc'late lab.
Cain: a maniac, the brown dog's head swelled,
confused by the fizz but a rat he had smelled.
He was a god's dog, ergo, a ogre -
mighty fine watchdog, well-trained at Kroger.
Schooled in their stockroom with all kinds of nuts
whose tricks won ribbons for all kinds of mutts.
Cain's radar kicked in, went straight for the can
and turned it on Rex who lost his game plan.
On the way out, he offered some Kleenex.
No one's the wiser, except maybe Rex.
Recording the facts, Cain writes in his log,
Was it a rat I saw? or Am I a dog?
A dog, a panic in a pagoda
Cain, a maniac
ergo, a orgre
Was it a rat I saw
Together the Owl and the PusyCat were married
Then again sailed out over the deep blue seas
Searching forever for the great Land of Nod,
To the place where they could find true peace.
True peace, true peace… Where they could find true peace.
The love that twined forever within their hearts
They sought throughout all the wonderous lands
Going to the place where they would live in peace,
A place where true peace, rules and lives in the hearts of the land.
The land, the land… Where true peace lives in the heart of the land.
Alas, the love of the heart, though truly not easy to find…
Is easier to find than the love of peace, found throughout the land.
So it’s said they will continue to sail, until that day comes true,
And when they land for the final time, will be up to me and you.
Me and you, me and you… That day will be up to me and you.
I starts me life as pirate,
A grommet before age twelve,
Not an ordinary bandit,
High sea adventures me delve.
With a Letter of Marque in me han’
And the Commodore for me pa!
I spends dogwatch near the helmsman,
Nerey missin’ me bonny ma.
Old salts tell their gory tales,
Aye, dogs hanging from the gallows.
Punishments for a man who fails
Floggings or keelhaul; blood bath follows.
Scrimshaw hangin’ ‘round me neck.
A privateer by trade,
Flaunting booty on the deck
We’s the scallywags brigade.
Pirateering is me heartthrob.
I dreams schemes in the crows nest.
‘bout takin’ swag from an unfortunate swab.
I sits watchin’ pa from the crest.
Long nines aimed and ready,
Jolly Roger on the mainmast,
Headway fast and steady,
The enemy’s fate forecast.
One for all and all for one!
Drinkin’ grog an’ eatin’ grub.
Werkin’ on the “Morning Sun”
Me father at the hub.
Davy Jone’s locker, me final plight!
Death drifting in me beloved sea –
Straightway from the dark of night
The pirate’s life for me!
© July 15, 2010
Jump into pistachio talc
and fly on mists a'sparkle
Dripping off me is butterfly dust
Stand up and you can follow
Dive off the chair you sit in
to streams filled thick with cider
Nap on webs of candied cotton
strung strong by the sugar spider
Open your eyes under water
Catch up with me high in flight
Tether your wings to the sea horse's daughter
as she swims in the moon beams at nights
Sullied clouds fall past the ocean
sleeping on silver tide's arm
Drowsy me now from this butterfly potion
sleeping in ribbons and lavender charm
Imagine the ocean alive
with flutters of wings on the tide
Strip all your preconceived notions
and watch with your eyes open wide
Glisten in green innuendos
Sparkle and shake out your wings
I'm a whisper of water, a glint of delight
taking flight on the brink of impossible things...
With armor pierced, I’m battle scarred
For enemies swords had struck their mark
Though weary, I, I raised my sword
To continue fighting in the dark
The battle started hours before
Fighting strong, with me, heroic men
Yet, common men with noble hearts
For mother land, they now defend
No formal training, nor fighting skills
But, armed with will and make shift swords
These men of honor fought for right
For losing homes, they can’t afford
I, their leader, their chosen one
Selected for strength and outward pride
Am honored to fight aside these men
Else, not fighting at all, I shall have died
Our homes and family are what we are
The marks of us men are lineage and land
We go into battle, each as a boy
To come from the battle, each as a man
The Amadawn ‘ave played the joker
for the Good folks fairy Coort
‘T was they ‘ave egged the paper birches
an’ touch’d the scare crow’s stalks.
They ‘ave giv'n leerin pumpkin ‘eads
to Dullahan black ‘eadless ‘orse.
Tied the liein’ Leprechain’s tongues.
Changed the dread Pooka’s course.
Stol'n the noble Banshees keen moan.
an ‘idden ‘er bone white comb.
They ‘ave lured two changeling lovers
to Red Man’s bloody ‘ome.
N’er free since June, the jesters play
their brash tricks on Samhain’s eve.
Stealin’ all the gifts left fur the dead
‘neath mournin’ mortals trees.
N’t till the sunrise will they lave off
wid ‘ the Leprechauns in toe.
And sadly scurry ‘omeward bound
sure laven us all alone!
Drive across the country
Let imagination flow
Tumbleweed and flat lands
Reveal a western show
Mile markers pave the way
Across this land sublime
Wind blows through the car
On my arm sunshine
Generations of people
Spirits across the land
Occupy a history
Of faces in the sand
Deep inside our spirit
Adheres to our respect
This peaceful land of bounty
No one shall reject
Fresh cut grass lingers
The present rescinding more
Where old shacks and farms
Grasp our inner core
Land abound with wisdom
Dust has settled down
Enjoy driving the distance
See another town
I think I’ll live forever
I think I’ll refuse to die
Plant my body in the ground
My spirit’s going to fly
Please come fly away with me
Once this journey is complete
Universe can be our home
Our own magical retreat
Two celestial bodies
Darling lets take to the sky
Forget the why, when or how
This dream is for you and I
Gliding upon golden wings
We can dance from star to star
I would travel anyplace
So I could be where you are
Angel’s dance like fireflies
Through trails of glittering dust
In heaven magical things
Exist for people like us
It seems we have come so far
Seems the limit is the sky
When I think of who you are
Tears of joy I need to cry
Everything is what you are
You are everything to me
Long as eternity last
My soul shall be one with thee
So let’s live on forever
We will each refuse to die
Plant our bodies in the ground
As our spirits take to the sky
I grabbed my shin guard and boot
And head out with my team unto the pitch
The crowd goes wild, old and young, all hooting
The horns of the cars and the vuvuzela’s all tooting
Super Sports, Sky Sports, BBC and ESPN- all reporting
The game kicks off, Tony in post
Anchored by Fish, Tuga, Razak and Bruce
Pirlo on the left, Tsidi in the middle, Speelo on the right
Saviola, Siyabonga and Blagodzi will be at the fore-front of the fight
Souls wrestle for supremacy, the crowd still alive and sparkling all night
Go Mighty Panda! Go Mighty Panda!!
The away crowd in purple, black and Green cheers wildly
Referee whistles for a foul and issues Tuga his second yellow
Two yellow cards means an automatic sending off of Tuga, my fellow
Down by a man yet not giving up, Coach makes a substitution as Noni comes on for Speelo
We’re taking things cool and calm
The opposition getting frustrated after 80 minutes
My teammates attacking and defending with an irresistible power
As the pendulum of action swings from one tower to the other tower
I took the game into my own hands and blast a ‘gargo’ shot in the eleventh hour
The home crowd goes silent
The 40,000 hooting crowd goes quiet
That thunderbolt from Siyabonga won us the cup
When the game is over the wining team gets a thump up
The losing team goes home to prepare for next season and to get fired up
The Poet Preacher © 2013
Life is so precious when you’ve got health
Good health is much more precious than wealth
Be willing to explore what you can
Discoveries help to make life grand
New opportunities come your way
Jump-in quick as they may go away
Let the world know you want to join in
Put your hand out and make a new friend
Live life boldly, learn new things firsthand
Take off your shoes and walk in the sand
Don’t be timid because something’s new
Adventure’s door is open to you
There’s new things to learn, around the clock
Open the door when you hear a knock
You only get this one chance to live
Experience what life’s got to give
Born of moments matter
To burn for moments sake
Condemned to moments past
For future moments make
Daddy went hunting.
Mamma went too.
Daddy got a deer,
but Mamma got two.
Mamma told her story
while Daddy stood by
looking like at any time
he was gonna cry.
We all thought "He's jealous
he only got one."
But, Daddy had a reason
he didn't shoot his gun.
The buck was at his blind.
He seen him at close range.
The path was clear and all at once
Daddy felt something strange.
He knew that she was waiting
over in her stand.
He had bagged so many deer.
Her fate was in his hands.
He tossed a stick to scare the deer.
He sat and watched it run.
He prayed she wouldn't miss her shot
(OR HER HUNTING DAYS WERE DONE!)
He sat patiently waiting
for the gunshot near her stand.
When he heard her yell "I GOT ONE!"
he finally unclenched his hands.
The deer was his gift to her
although she never knew,
why Daddy only got one deer
and she got two.
Your life is a long race,
Racing over the bumps.
Traveling the unforeseen,
Don’t fear to hit the jumps.
Down the winding path,
There’s plenty of ups and downs.
Place your focus up ahead,
For the glorious end you’re bound.
Doing what you love to do,
Will eventually make history.
See you at the finish line,
As you race the track to victory.
MY GIANT WAS THE INSPIRATION FOR THIS POEM
It's very intriguing how life's test is
Unpredictable hurdles like a Lecturer's quiz
One giant in life I so tremble and fear
Especially, when the cliff-hanger draws near
Yet, I'll never stop believing in myself
O yes! Never stop believing in yourself
Through thick and thin I'll prevail
There's no way I'll fail
I'll keep moving towards the promised land
I'll keep moving and not stand
I'll attack and crush my giant apart
O yes! There's so much power in my heart
I'll tear him apart, I'll pull him down
I'll scatter him upon the ground
I'll give him my best 'Gargo' shot
And blow him at his blind spot
I'll strike his eyes and wash it with turpentine
I'll cut of his tongue and his intestine
I'll break him down and cut of his head
I'll crush this giant and finish him like bread
I'll play hard from beginning to end, I'll go on
Though the cliff may be tedious and long
I'll go on to achieve my quest
O yes! I'll go out to be the best
Sherlock Holmes and Watson made
A duo fighting crime
The wise detective and his friend
The greatest in their time!
It all began with 'Gloria Scott'
When old man Trevor died
Sherlock then, to help his friend
His hobby theories tried
Whether Naval Treaties lost
Or strange Red-headed League
Holmes and trusty Watson solved
Conundrums and intrigue
Whether 'twas the Second Stain
Or swan at Abbey Grange
Those dearest fellows smoked their pipes
On matters grave and strange
If Watson never understood
'Till matters did conclude
It sometimes seems 'twas Holmes's fault
That things were misconstrued
Then there came the felons' dread
The sudden shout, "Halloa!"
And Watson, sometimes young Lestrade
Would run to see below
I think, perhaps, that Watson's mind
Was sharper yet than ours
For putting up with Holmes's quirks
Could be like counting stars
Majestic he stands
Head held high and proud
Until I draw near tack in hand
His mussel to my chest he bows
Our eyes fixed
With deepest affection
Respect from me
From him acceptance
His nostrils flair
He inhales my scent
A bond beyond fences
A mutual consent
About horse and rider
How can I explain
This communion of splendor
With reverent candor
Can any man compare
Who would be considered grander
Horse or rider if you dare
Nobility without pride
Beauty without vanity
Majesty without disciple
Power without violence
Do you still wonder why I'm longing for the ride
When he challenges the wind for speed
Brushed by heaven with every stride
Intimacy mounted here on "Spirit's Pride"
My steed and I in harmony
Exhilaration captivates my senses
Pounding hooves, his earthen scent
Taut muscles ripple in sweat profusely drenched
He heeds the slightest touch of rein
His saddle is my alter of prayer
When he on oceans sands a trot
My soul is healed all disrepair
In bed I lay awake tonight my mind a heavy load
His blaze is blazoned in my memory burned
Of black night mane and chestnut coat
A quatrain tribute to his name he's earned
Still you may not understand
This yearning so many take in stride
Of horse and rider pure joy provider
And oh such longing for the ride
The sea calls my name; to the call of waves I respond
For seven full days with no one I’ll correspond
My fishing gear packed, I board a cabin cruiser
To escape society, man’s worst abuser
The GPS set, I head fifty miles offshore
To a reef where city lights can’t be seen anymore
The sea would remain calm; hey, this is my story
And the galley’s pantry filled with inventory
Gull screeches and dolphin cackles, the only sounds
In each direction a blue horizon surrounds
Since the break of dawn, the grouper have been biting
Catching my dinner; nothing is more exciting
As the orange sun paints clouds pink before it sets
I commune with God and nature, have no regrets
Through the skylight above the cabin’s comfy bed
Venus, Mars and the Milky Way appear overhead
Reminders that I’m but a speck in God’s grand plan
Merely a traveler whose perceptions expand
A lifetime I’d want, but settle for just one week
To live upon the ocean and adventure seek
* For Carol’s “A Week to Do as You Please” contest
Leaking sides of a filth I abandoned
Sheathing myself to my fortress garrisoned
Waste snaking through what's left of my good will
On and off I rode away from the wasteland off the distant hill
Encountering the ghosts of the past whispers
Devouring my thoughts my head dazed in whimper
A shield broken a sword untamed
Halos smothered and bloody fingers to blame
Hurricanes swept the grasslands clean
Storms stripping the seas of rough and lean
Waves hurrying to escape the fury of the dark night sky
To whom it may be, the ones screaming to die
Blazing fires putting ashes to the ground
The traces of disaster slaving the uncrowned
Shadows of the graves greeted the living with open arms
The cries of fear echoed the heavens with crimson scars
To whom will you run? To whom will you plead?
When the sky burns red and the kings turn to flee
To whom will it matter, whether you live to see another day
To whom will it stain, the end of a million hearts beating astray
Hail of ember melts away your eyes and ears
Your fate manifests the monster you've dreaded and feared
Glory will claw the spines of lands filled with the martyrs' blood
No escaping the howls of an outcast howling through the moonless flood
The withering final moments, savoring the jolly stride
Rode the sheathing swords that flew the banners of pride
Gliding on skulls of their fallen ones
Swore to retake the Empire of the Rising Sun
My heart is on Your shoulders,
And You are lifting me up.
With every spoken tender gesture,
I fall a little farther in love.
A storm torn boat thrashed on the ocean waves
As gales of wind knocked out their lanterns’ glow.
A frantic captain yelled “all hands on deck!”
Then watched as sails tore free; they’d moved too slow.
Brave as a lion, captain steered their course
Though jagged rocks scraped ‘gainst the hull with force.
The seamen battled through the dark of night
Until the seas grew calm at morning’s light.
They stood in silence, those that still remained
And bowed their heads for mates who’d met their fate.
Time and eternity told tales of mighty seas
That claimed the brave, then crushed their ships with ease.
Entry in the contest: On the Ocean Waves
Sponsor: Francine Roberts
Iambic pentameter; no particular rhyme scheme. Three quatrains.
The work was hard out on the ranch, the days were hot an' dry,
An' fancy things you find in town had caught ol' Jim Bob's eye.
When evenin' came he'd sit the fence an' crave to see the sights,
To drive big cars to all the bars an' toast the city nights.
He had a gal he courted some, her name was Betty Lou.
She'd lived a spell in Angelo, had been to Lubbock, too.
Her face was fine, with freckled cheeks, her hair was done in style;
An' all her clothes had fancy brands that musta cost a pile.
Now, Betty Lou had set her sights to put her brand on Jim,
But he had things he had to do an' marriage weren't for him.
The world was callin'-out his name, he had some things to learn,
Some places that he had to see, 'some candles left to burn'.
Well, came a time, an' like you thought, he wandered off the range,
But ended up in Boston-town; now boys, that was a change.
He found a bar that looked real clean an' sauntered in the door;
He'as proud to be of Texas stock an' sallied to the fore.
A fancy feller slithered-up an' asked Jim to his place,
But when he put his hand on Jim's, he punched him in the face.
I guess that feller didn't know for what ol' Jim was known,
An' bein' green to city life, he'as best just left alone.
Right after Jim had took his shot that dude got mighty riled;
He punched Jim once an' kicked him twice, an' left him right defiled.
Jim left his mark, I guess you'd say, that feller's bloody clothes;
Cause when that feller swung his fist, Jim hit it with his nose!.
He'd never seen them fancy dudes, who act like girls an' such;
From what he knew, which wadn't squat, he didn't like 'em much.
He heard they'as sissies, frail an' weak, sashayin' as they walked.
They gossiped like some women-folk, an' giggled when they talked.
Well, when it all was said an' done, he helped Jim to his feet,
An' dusted off his shirt a mite, then smiled at him real sweet.
He told Jim 'bout a couple things he liked to do with males;
Now, one was such I won't repeat, but one was kickin' tails.
Well, boys I guess there's lessons here: be careful where you roam;
Don't wander off to Boston-town, if Texas is your home;
But if you do, stear clear of bars, an' this I would include;
Don't ever underestimate an' rile a fancy dude.