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Best Poems Written by Zachary Richardson

Below are the all-time best Zachary Richardson poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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A Hummingbird

From left
                                                                                                                                      To right
He flutters in a frenzy;
Up
                                                                                                                 and down he goes,
As if on fire, and seemingly so,
If one glances at the jewelled breast
Blazing with fire.

He lives his little life in this flying frenzy,
Never-stopping, until his little flaming heart
Chooses to submit
To Mortality.

Details | Zachary Richardson Poem

I'M Not Like You John Muir

I'm not like you John Muir:
I haven't fell into the deepest well;
I haven't swam through a solid stream;
And I haven't felt a gushing geyser's steam--
I've only been forever locked in this cell.

I'm not like you John Muir:
I've never slept under the stars;
I've never had grizzly meat for a snack;
And I've never ridden on horseback--
I've only ridden in lazy cars.

I'm not like you John Muir:
I will never fight for a cause;
I will never see mountain peaks;
I will never bathe in bottomless creeks,
And no one will ever know who I was.

I'm not like you John Muir,
But I wish that I was.

Details | Zachary Richardson Poem

Unrighteous Self-Pity

If you know how to die you know how to live.
Listen to Bryant
In the basement by the light bulb.
Live and Let Die
Let Me Die First.
(Release some air for the breathless)

Die with a whole heart, unbroken, unfixed
Die without orgasms
Die at 47--Depression
Die at ten and seven--Fell off the earth

Listen to O'Neill
I know this guy, I know his circles
I've inherited his gift/curse of
Seeing the insides of people through their pupils
Blue, Hazel, Brown, Black, they're all the same
They hate their lives but they don't show it
They sob sitting on the cold steel toilet

No periods, no commas, to hell with punctuation
There's no poetry, no fiction, no prose
Stop writing
Stop drinking your coffee and 
Typing on your laptops
Stop your romanticizing
Nobody cares
The best have already been
You're only copycats and imitators and posers
Amateurs
The great ones dig deeper in the ground
Away from you
Read and don't write
Or 
Do some math problems
"Everybody needs math nowadays"
Become a
Doctor or a
Stock broker
Or
Go turn to dust at your cubicle
Do some slothful American job
Communication Nation
Industrialization
Mechanization
Machines run the nation
People watch the machines
And wet themselves
And soil themselves
And ejaculate

Listen to Bob Dylan
Was this good enough for you
Poetry Soup, poetry.com, winningwriters.com?
Did it make the minimum amount of sense?
Was it modern enough for you?
You're just like the rest of the jungle
"Phonies"
"Conformists"
Praise be to Jean Marie Marchese,
And Tony Bush, and Deborah
Simpson and...Gods of the poetic universe
If only I were a Premier Member

Details | Zachary Richardson Poem

The Deer-Slayers

Is he down?
I don' know; you wait 'ere,
While I go see/ Come 'ere.
Gut 'im now?
Not jus' yet; check his pulse.
No, high'r up. Yeah, right there.
Now, Pa, how?
I'll show yeh.
And the thunder of God's wrath 
Echoed through the wood.

Details | Zachary Richardson Poem

Freedom

The rope is tight around my neck
And I feel it making its imprint
Into my flesh.
I glance at the growing crowd
That has gathered round
To watch me perform my trick.
In the crowd I see only pale faces
Whose lifeless laughing pupils seem to sear
Into my flesh.
I turn from them to look at my hands,
Hands callous from cotton-picking in bands
But at last I am freed by God's graces.
I can still smell the pottage heating by the fire
I can still feel the embers jumping out
Into my flesh.
I can still see the corner, full of refuse
I can taste my bloodied molars, loose
After a thorough clubbing from the Sire.
I can see my mother being stripped and whipped
I can see my father drenched in burning tar that seeps
Into his flesh.
See my sisters displayed naked and bare
See them modeled like two healthy mares
Hear my brother's sigh as his lashing is skipped.
But I, thank God, am more fortunate than these:
I am released at once from the burden 
That trembles the flesh,
Spared from the torture, from the agony,
Whisked away in a chariot stately.
And thank God for the oak, the sweet gum, trees
That have mercy on me, that grant my wish,
(Euthanasia)
FREEDOM.
And SNAP! the sand-bags hit the dirt...

Details | Zachary Richardson Poem

Star-Stealers

They've come at last, the stealers of stars, 
From their travels afar,
With their muck-spewers, tree-hewers, earth-movers,
Beer, axes, guns, grenades, deer on skewers.
They burp and belch and blaspheme
While they drunkenly dig and demolish
The earth and urinate on it in rings.
They dip some Skoal and spit out their folly
After licking it up with their wagging tongues,
After beating their wives and slapping their young,
And jump into their Cats again, fat and jolly.

They've come back from Iraq,
After that country's plunder and sack,
After they'd crossed the Atlantic desert,
Evaporated by their steam and hurt,
Turned to dust by their never-ending tracks.
They strangled the whale in the Thames,
They killed the buffaloes on the Plains,
They made the Sahara and stopped the rains,
And they made the gate in the Ozone Layer,
All the while laughing at Lorien's prayer.

And now they're at the door-step; I see them outside
        my window.
They dance around the dead trees and make the earth glow
In fire and flame. They shoot the birds from the sky
For sport. They bring the sun nearer with their chains,
Stopping the rains, making the flesh cry
For mercy, making the winds scream for change,
Causing the oceans to toss and tumble,
Madly trying to escape the heat,
And only then do they mumble
Of what they have done,
Of the planet they have beaten
To a pulp. Only then do they realize 
That they have taken the stars from my eyes,
That they have turned the greens and blues
To browns and blacks and grayish hues.

Details | Zachary Richardson Poem

Cold Gray Sky

This is a found poem I created after reading Harriet Beecher Stowe's "Uncle 
Tom's Cabin." Throughout the novel, there are many wonderfully composed 
sentences exhibiting poetic magnificence. Stowe is unappreciated for her ability 
as an artist, and is usually viewed only as a writer of a sentimental, "protest 
novel." But, to me, her work seems to be so carefully, poetically crafted, that it has 
somewhat of a Shakespearean effect on the reader.
The quotes are taken from chapters 26 and 28, "Death" and "Reunion," two of the 
most tragic and compelling chapters in the novel.

"DEATH!"
Strange that there should be such a word,
And such a thing,
And we ever forget it;
That one should be living,
Warm and beautiful,
Full of hopes, desires and wants, one day,
And the next be gone,
Utterly gone,
And forever!

O, woe for them who watched thy entrance into heaven,
When they shall wake and find only
The cold gray sky of daily life,
And thou gone forever!
Still must we eat,
And drink,
And sleep,
And wake again,--
Still bargain,
Buy,
Sell,
Ask and answer questions,--
Pursue, in short, a thousand shadows,
Though all interest in them be over;
The cold mechanical habit of living remaining,
After all vital interest in it has fled.

Details | Zachary Richardson Poem

A Pine Tree

The pine tree in its mystery, it sings
Of fighting, battles, bravery, wars won.
Through its needles the cannon rings
Faint memories of Attila the Hun;
Of great Arthur as Excalibur sings;
Alexander, his conquest done.
This immortal tree has seen many things:
Its roots soaked in blood, witnessed the first sun;
Bent by the wind, frozen as the ice stings;
And it lives on, seared by those machine guns.

Details | Zachary Richardson Poem

Forney

The grass is a pale yellow 
The sky groans above it
The children play on the grass
And their feet crunch on the grass
Like snow in the winter-time
And I envy the Scottish, the Irish.

The plow rusts in the soil
The companion of labour and toil
Lies encased in the muck of 
The Blackland Prairie.

The lifeless form steering the John Deere
Probably drunk on cheap bitter beer
Pilots the monster through forest
Driving Pan and the Satyrs away
And this is only another day
Of destruction on the prairie.

And Suburbia is built 
On top of God's earth, and false names,
Deceitful names, are given to the editions:
Woodcreek, Sunny Peak, Deer Leap
Where the creek is dry
The sun refuses to shine
And the deer is extinct.

The wind cuts like a razor 
Through the few trees that remain.
The people drive their cars
While their children sit inside,
Playing their video games, seeing stars
Their brains already dead.

And the rain does not come
Because of man's greed, and
Off the highway to Hell
Lies a young sapling, full of
Promise, waiting to live,
Then stripped from the earth by
The jaws of the yellow monster.

Details | Zachary Richardson Poem

Remember the Grapevine

Do you remember the grapevine? Do you?
Do you remember the deer that stole from it?
Do you remember the stream that fed it?
Do you remember the dove that overhead flew?
I can't recall any of it--
I don't breathe air I breathe smoke and fire;
No I don't remember the grapevine.

Do you remember spring in the grapevine?
      Do you?
I remember the rabbits that slept in the grass
And the stream that flowed beside them that gave
      Birth to bream and bass,
That I swam in since I was five. Don't you
       Remember?
What?! You woke me from my sleep;
I'm watching T.V. -- Don't bother me!
And no I don't remember the bloody grapevine!!

Please, before you leave, don't you remember
       the taste of the grapes (at least)?
How they burst in your mouth and danced down your throat,
So that you thought you could sing the highest note?
Please, wait; don't you remember the color, the taste?
No; I'm a MAN and I only eat beef!
I only see red, yellow, and green!
I've had enough of you and your damn grapevine!
I'm going to work, to labor and toil,
To flood your beloved stream with oil,
To burn away your grapevines once and for all,
To substitute sad gray concrete for your soil!
So shut your mouth about your grapevine
While I slam the door!

But you, Friends, you remember the grapevine:
You remember running under the sun,
Sitting in the woods for fun,
Hearing the bell calling you at noon,
Interrupting your travels so soon.
I know you hate your cubicle,
And the buildings that watch over your every move,
And the checkbooks, the taxes, the bills,
The pills, the kids, the dog, the cat, the car,
Everything. So when you feel you're not living,
As you must every day, forget the buildings,
The bosses, and your work, forget everything.
Leave room in your mind for one thing only:
Remember the Grapevine.
Go to the grapevine of yore with your troubles,
That time when you were happy,
That time of greens and blues, when you could think
Of the grapevine and the grapevine alone.