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Best Wayne Hill Poems

Below are the all-time best Wayne Hill poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Wayne Hill Poem

Winter Proposal

With my soul at peace and my thoughts at rest,
standing in this winter wilderness,
I whisper words of heartfelt bliss.

Come with me and walk this path.
Together we tread against the freeze,
and find the warmth of tender grasp.

My devoted being shall forever be,
a place of strength against chilled winds,
a brilliant light only you have seen.

Our lives have met in this quiet space.
Let sky meet land and rivers merge.
Forever, harmony I long to taste.

We have summoned light from darkest days.
Heat returns to melt still ice.
Each day length now brings stronger rays.

The deepest snows cannot hide the facts.
Beneath these layers life holds fast.
Newfound joys spring from bleakest past.

Let's rebuild life from broken dreams,
Where life restarts with each new spring,
the snows will melt to feed fresh streams.

Like this land, my passion runs free.
Walls have come down with earnest words.
My unblinded eyes now see.

I ask for your hand without ounce of gold,
or shiny stones dug from filthy earth.
My eternal love cannot be bought or sold.

Under peaks reborn of volcanic scars,
In night's serene and  starkest silence,
I pledge love to outlast the multitude of stars.

Solitude I turn from on this ride.
Today and tomorrow let's walk in stride.
Promise to be my utopian bride.


Details | Wayne Hill Poem

Newly Conceived Sunshine

   As the sun awakens the forest,
   I ascend the faded trail.
   A doe and her fawn spring,
   startled by the stranger,
   traipsing through their paradise.
   These overlooked alpine slopes
   soak in tranquility, 
   and newly conceived sunshine.
   Enchanted and purified I drink
   from untouched springs of refreshment.

   Give the valleys to the cities.
   Grant the plains to the farmers.
   Leave the mountains to her unsettled visitors.

   Where civilization grows,
   ugliness breeds in desperate streets.
   Pollution collects beside her gutters.
   Man turns on himself in greed.
   In the places people gather,
   desecration and hatred are common,
   and he is cut off from himself.
   His cities are bastions of confusion,
   concrete coffins awaiting the fill.
   Save me from our urban abominations. 
   
  


Details | Wayne Hill Poem

Once The Domain Of Birds

Beetles, most likely, felled the giant.
A gruesome deterioration,
of a quiet magnitude,
ravaged inward.
Until, in the cold night,
root structure surrendered
from hardened ground,
to a misery of horizontal dust.
And where once the domain of birds,
was glorified above,
now gives shelter to ants and grubs.
Golden bark breathes no more.
A deathly gray instead petrifies,
the deceased former shade giver.
And yet as cell churns to molecule,
and molecule devolves its complexity,
soil enriches.
Earth becomes fertile.
And the dust again gives way to life.

 
     



Details | Wayne Hill Poem

In The Wilderness Of The Mind

Empty horizons circle the eyes.
Virginity of nature’s domain unspoiled.
Man has not left marks of soiled hands.
Where is this peace that you may find?
In the wilderness of the mind.

Leaves drink in the glowing sun,
harvesting light to shade the stone.
Man’s narrow fields confine the show.
Where does beauty permeate inside?
In the wilderness of the mind.

Rolling streams cascade from snow.
Crystal blankets melt to braids,
as liquid blues run towards seas.
Where does reflections turn eyes blind?
In the wilderness of the mind.

The bear emerges from dark den,
hungrily flaring nose to find a meal.
Dimly lit winter enlightens to the sun.
Where can visions see without sunlight shined?
In the wilderness of the mind.

Beasts engrave prints upon the ground.
Territories are covered to feed all needs.
Howls exchange through sparse air.
Where will the symphony stay behind?
In the wilderness of the mind.

Vanish does the wild ground.
His taming fit to please mankind.
Each day a step towards productive course.
Where is escape from order in kind?
In the wilderness of the mind.

 





Details | Wayne Hill Poem

Fishing The High Country

A body of translucent blue spreads before him,
reflecting heavens of stark purity.
He flicks his shiny offering towards depths unknown,
and cranks the oiled reel.
Time  pours slowly,
as the reflective lure moves through crystal waters.
Again the motions transfix thought,
cast, retrieve, move, repeat.
Until abruptly, something strikes the silver flasher,
now the dance is on.
The light weight pole bends to unspoiled water,
as the luminescent trout hurls its body above the water’s surface.
The aquatic life’s attempt to dislodge the three pronged hook fails.
But fish and man have met stares.
The dance intensifies,
a run is made,
line is peeled from spool.
Deeper the fish plunges through roiled waters.
But he will tire,
and face his likely death.
He ceases his desperate struggle.
The distance between predator and prey withers.
The angler now reaches for his worthy prize.
He captures the weighty fish through jaw and gill,
and lifts his prey from liquid home.
He has acquired what he sought,
but he knows that he must not devour this mountain rarity.
Gently, the fish is revived in the cool water.
He is released, and the two part, not as enemies,
but as two strangers,
who met in the fading twilight of the evening rise.
 


Details | Wayne Hill Poem

I Dreamt of you my Irish Queen

With radiant smile upon your face,
A flowing gown across your breast,
adorned with rooting shades of green.
I dreamt of you my Irish queen.

Your hair a  streaming,  golden mass,
we merge across the darkened room,
dwelling in my nightly, misty dreams.  
I dreamt of you my Irish queen.

A solid shore of unyielding force,
against the storms of frequent turmoil,
shelter from tides yet unseen.
I dreamt of you my Irish queen.

Peaceful nights under flickering stars,
we connect through lasting passion,
an ecstatic conveyance to places serene.
I dreamt of you my Irish queen.

In places of soothing splendor I see,
what two hearts can build in harmony.
Our nights blend to locations unforeseen.
I dreamt of you my Irish queen. 
 


Details | Wayne Hill Poem

Sacred Etchings

Walls stripped bare of time.
Symbols shinning through
moon phases
piled as sand.
Carvings of past hunters
speak a bewildering code,
of lives washed from history. 

Meaning vanished.

Impression conveyed.

Time has left the message,
and betrayed the creator.
His flesh gone
language scattered.
A people swallowed by disease,
and famine,
storm and drought,
war and disunity.
The only evidence of heritage
streaks placed on canyon walls.
undeciphered pictographs of
anonymous origin. 

And yet I have expectations
of meeting the author
around a river bend.
Hunting the same prey,
cleansing in the same stream,
tending mutual crops,
sheltering similar families,
chiseling with ancient tools,
upon cliffs of dazzling, pounded sand. 


Details | Wayne Hill Poem

Life Stages of a River

Rain falls on granite.
Glaciers unwind.
Snowflakes decrystallize.
A murmuring stream collects,
in the confluence of the melt.

A river is born.

Her banks expand.
Nutrients collect in the torrent.
Rocks tumble in the frothy whitewater.
Speed and power intensify,
with the reshaped swell of common elements.

A river grows.

Transformation is slow and muddy.
Men build obstructions,
harness the river with turbines.
Irrigation canals siphon liquid gold for crops.
Barges navigate goods over current.

A river is tamed.

Sediments build in the depths.
Reflections dominate.
A serene shoreline nurtures abundance.
The hasty flow has noticeably slowed.
Every mile traveled increases breath of verity.

A river ages.

Some vanish with anonymity in vast deserts.
Others clash violently into endless seas.
A few form rich, braided deltas.
Inland lakes, without drainage, capture some.
Geologists and children are in agreement.

All rivers end……….


 


Details | Wayne Hill Poem

Harmony's Stream

Bending clear and cold,
through rock strewn valley,
the creek she gathers.
turning withered land to brilliant growth,
flooding a narrow, parched mile.
Inside I smile.

My senses dull in the cool torrent.
I am purified in moving harmony,
soaked in the rich dew of countless drops.
The rushing of waters soothes the
dusty paths of the weary.
I am safe from angst and fury.

A churning beauty of cleansing motion,
a stream bed slides from
hill to plain through
mud and rock and dazzling grains of sand.
May drought or dam stop not the peaceful hand!


Details | Wayne Hill Poem

Two Sided Universe

Life unfurls with timely elegance.
Attractive blooms herald the branches revival.
Flowers bear fruit for sustenance.
Soak your eyes in the exultation of the universe.
Behold the glory of this creation.
We will reap the order of the sun,
and glory in this garden,
where the nectar of life we will own.

I have inhaled the ether of Heaven!

Illusions I must not drink.
Our source of warmth will someday expire.
Long term survival of the fit is futile.
The dust of this race will float,
in the perpetual frost of the aftermath.
All life, knowledge, and perception will sleep.
This clump of world will disperse,
throughout the endless chill of space.

I have inhaled the smoke of Hades!



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