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Best Poems Written by David Archuletta

Below are the all-time best David Archuletta poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Company Kept

The wants of her heart beckoned of lonely streets
Longingly,
Like the summertime wail of the Snow Fence
When empty winds through weathered pickets
Howl for the cold company it keeps

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Gone Mother Gone,

It began in the innocent spring of life

This of which, never did share

Spent summer of youth

… One in blanket gaze

While, she of long reaching, __ mystic stare

Now stirs autumn winds

Whispers of twice-cried tears

Two stories tell, each welling deep

The chambered nautilus of harbored fear

Maybe forever, shared song of winter’s discontent

Yet strings play on

As purveyed souls, soon greet seasons, never meant

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The Nautilus

Exchanged pleasantries
Now vowed
Ensconsed
Memories

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Sweet Chicane Journey

The curvature of her body   The sculpting of her mind
A chicane       With an Edge
Purposed to find

This river twisted they failed to quest
For the flow of an essence, a river bed carved
Its ocean journey never gave less

With agitated sea of reason
Its conscience slipped deep in the brine
Once a reef of clarity    On ocean floor darkest
Now lays with  coral skeletons of time

Lost to the moray of her smile       Years past
If existed concern or reflect
For beauty with an edge      As in ocean deep
Her estuary fixating         A sweet chicane of twice effect

The beauty of silence       Is a song the moray does sing
Storied is its sight      Welled of illusion
A fleeting enchantment     A nightmare in dream

With drop step glance     And upswept eyes, a melody loosed of her song
The piercing shards of subtle iniquity
A sharper vision     Did not any belong

With cast eyes, brought a letting of his soul
Rivulets of its being   With she, reminisce   Whispered song
In chambered heart   Her nautilus keepsakes of long ago

Just as the "Song of the Moray"    Which passed through silent gill
The receding lashed wake of their voiceless harmony
On empty beach its effervescence it did instill

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Dakota Legend

Storms of sorrow,

Etch furrowed rows
Ingrained of sad memories past
Carved deep in brow
A mounted warrior of Ghost Dance last

Storms of sorrow,

The will, nor image could force
Stoic in nature, as brazen of life
A granite warrior's likenesses, emulate it's only source

Storms of sorrow,

Upon brow of the "Nation"
Instill change, in a memory's course
From atop Lakota Black Hills
Emerges the legend, the legend of the one called Crazy Horse

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The Banker's Tell Tale Chair

You do not sit well with me
For now I have strong legs and a sturdy back
Trusting eyes are blind, but now all do see

The cut of your plan
The strain of your ways
Unethically callous of highest degree

Devoid of abstract ways would not detract
Certainly be, children naïve in streets
To recognize difference of red and black

From this day, I will not carry your load
My offered recumbence 
Is to those of Stienbeck quality, reminiscent, Joad

Your posture’s recline, this Board of Twelve Chairs declines
The power of your seat
Should be of the electric kind

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Peices of You

Pained memory     A hurt of kind
Inbedded deep       This tapeworm of time

Like the distant rings of Saturn
Now on outer edges    Once the centers core

Still lashed by length of  reach
Peices from the heart
Fed-upon, forevermore

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S.O.S.

Ice Recedes, Polar Bears Sneeze, Eskimos ____ Trees?

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Little Green Spiders De Jour

Our first drawn breath    A symbolic pact
Stating Mother Nature's works as natural acts

Without sayers of fortune
Or circled hands professed of shine
Only an arachnid's sky bound brood
Did manifest her vision in his mind

In morning bright
Were shooting strings and streaks of gleams
Trailing little things
Wishing stars in broad daylight

Little green spiders

Previously felt            A feeling's core
Same of nature         Only different than the one before

In pre-launch mid-morn sun
Lashed to strands of silken catchers of wind were shimmering pieces of her 
dreams, each silent image a reflective portrait, her beautiful ways and means

Ushered gently aloft in a morning's breeze
In colors deluxe
Sequences of movie scenes flashed on Golden-Era silver screens 
Born from spinnerets of spider 'lings 
To glide across our mind on glistening linear wing

As if on cued melody each streaming web reflected  times of a young love past
Holding hands or sitting on the grass
Carefree without worry, they thought forever their days would sing

Standing graveside of a long lost bride
A gray-haired man smiled as he cried, did ask in jest
"My dear, in what manner or form will your collusion de jour  with 
nature haunt me next."

We love these moments of past dreams dreamt, regardless they be natural acts 
or heaven sent

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Cloudburst

A Cloudburst 

Only now too clear, _ it seems… 
Lifted on haunches of late morning mists
A long lost sun once pulled from blue skied dreams

Only now too clear, _ it seems… 
That never known before 
Past early morning’s darkened clouds had schemed

A callused heart; tracked by tears that had since run dry
Hadn’t waked me to say goodbye  
I never knew that sunless day, stowed away