As the presidential plane kissed the Alaskan ground,
I beheld Putin — the fox, the KGB man,
his boot pressing on soil once Russia’s own,
a chess master reclaiming forgotten squares.
Another jet descended. Trump emerged,
a merchant prince, an actor upon the stage,
his hand raised high over a land America bought,
yet Russia never forgot.
Shadows lengthened over this summit:
Will it weave a ceasefire for Ukraine?
Or shall vultures circle,
Europe’s hollow face speaking only through America’s tongue?
Putin has danced with them all —
Clinton, Bush, Obama, Biden —
and now, twice with Trump,
he checkmates the board with steady calm.
Where is Zelenskyy?
Wise, or merely a fool at the table of giants?
Will he steer his people toward dawn,
or cast them deeper into the furnace of war?
These are not questions for the blind.
Those who pierce the veil,
who read the game behind the gestures,
already know the answer.
History weeps, but power does not.
And in the silence of Alaska,
a cruel truth lingers like smoke:
The world is a stage,
and men are pawns—
until the fox decides otherwise.
(Reid Glacier, Alaska, 2024)
Reid Glacier - Glacier Bay
Your electric blues
Reflect the light of deepest space
Like tropical waves
Suspended in time
Slow moving
At the pace of mountains
Water seeking water
Like a child returning home
(9/20/24)
A dog in Alabama
a snake in Tennessee
A toucan in Alaska
a mule in Kentucky
Texas has its longhorns
Colorado its buffalo
Arizonans look up at mountains
Montanans attend rodeos
Every place a different pet
and scenes to stir the heart
Give me wide-open countryside
Give urbanites fine arts
they are gorgeous, what are they?
Ice flows! They look like ice sculptures
I stared at them, in wonder,
remembering now why I had never been on a cruise
After watching the movie Titanic
I could not keep my eyes off of them
thinking of that ship and wondering
how someone had talked me into this cruise
Variegated streaks
criss-crossing,
soothing lavender
then fiery maroon,
with belts of amber
in between.
Slate blue bluffs
catch the sun before it lands,
dipping into the rippling orange
of the mottled lake.
The pitch black pines are still,
passed the rusty mesh
of a rickety screen door.
Our eyes were fixed
up to the moment
your coppered profile
became shadow,
and I could see you no more
in the hazy light.
The seasick ache
where you hold your breath
serenade in the mix of catastrophe
and the bottomless pit of emptiness
when you're
nails deep in your scalp
gripfuls of hair and you want to throw up.
A voice silenced by thunderstorm daydreams
and
hopeless ocean fantasies
of what once was.
A moment in time behind my mind
I stand still and wait desperately for you.
mom.
The vertigo wave splashes
heart smashing
a frantic panting kind of fear
where all there is are
distant white rushes of
missing her.
the tide dies
i feel my eyes close
salt water flakes on my skin
I reach my hand out for you
into the wind.
momma.
The seasick ache,
when the clouds break
and you look into the vast of fresh light
to feel complete heartbreak
crashing on the shores of your old home..
The ocean carries your name in its own tone.
As I near the stratosphere, I let loose
an untamed, raw rainbow
I pull on the tattered, worn ropes
of my hand-sewn hot-air balloon across
the hidden boreal quarry hill in the north
they rose above the nose
of a furious focus bear
and whack the back legs
of a swift white-tailed deer
on the tips of their fingers
they follow the wave's crest
gliding across the shimmering bay
toward the murky, muddy waterfall
I reach out from the wicker basket
to feel the wings of the migrating seagulls that fly south
I imitate their husky honking
before fading like a dandelion
awe-inspiring Sitka Alaska Sunset
I secure my spaceship to a sturdy sprout
relax on the radiant crimson ratoon
I mumble to the gray owl
"Who huh huh?" said the deep dock
spinning, spinning, swirling
the wind whirled the canopy away
as the scarlet sunset slackens into the starry sky
I let go of my bulky loads and flew into the stratosphere
without regard for any impediments
any concerns are left behind
above the clouds, I set sail
Written: May 20, 2023
Shiver me timbers and blow me down
By climate change Juneau who was drowned
Farewell, father. On adrenaline filled adventures, you’ve raised me. Canoeing open waters, fishing with trident spears. In search of game, we’ve explored. I clench my Glock .45, the Brown Bears passed us by. A proverbial Sirens call? Nay. Whatever lies ahead, I’ll take you with me. We’ll meet again, soon.
Brown bear moved to Alaska to play in the snow.
You will see him from time to time, said my cousin Moe.
He does not blend in like the polar bears do.
There he is now, in a pile of the wet sticky goo.
Brown bear waved from behind a snow hill.
Snow stuck on his fur, which gave him a thrill.
Icicles on his nose made him happy indeed.
No hibernation for him now, there is really no need.
bow riding
Dall's porpoises play
sea otters, orcas
and bald eagles
every day
herding salmon
otter find another boat
and some porpoise
otter love you more
like I did in Alaska
otter mend this net
love slips through
reel it in carefully
and stack it meticulously
(setting it should
never ensue disaster)
a listless drifter
I have been
tempting storms
and rocky shores
otter live this life on porpoise
like I did then
choose a destination
sail to better shores (oh, give me a home
where the sea otters roam
and the bow riding
Dall's porpoises play)
otter love you more
like I did in Alaska
The trip was a riot of color,
It brings a myriad of queries,
Fantastic tales of utter darkness,
Views' visible roots were explored.
Mainsail surges,
pungent froth carried wave tips while,
blast swings moaning openly.
superb mountains,
Convey streams into streaming rivers,
Down slants shrouded in woods.
And the majesty of the stars,
Is confronted every morning,
Under soft white clouds,
is with each foot I set down.
I relish the quiet of the sound,
how each slant embraces,
the still raw bay.
Home to unglaciated cervids,
Gnawing animals and polar bears,
Willow grouse, deer,
Also, the renowned Chinook Salmon.
More genuine than the Arctic flow,
Afar-off state refuted,
In both word and deed,
Anyhow of these ever tender wishes.
Atop mottled strands,
I let my emotions air dry,
Orange tulips were selected,
I regained faith; I can fly.
5Th Place Contest Winner
Written: June 18, 2022
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 3 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
A milkmaid in the town of Nome
Never found time to write a poem
She woke up Randy
Amos and Andy
And squeezed them 'til the cows came home
He said:
I’m taking my guns and dogs and going to Alaska.
I knew what he meant. -
sometimes squirrels get into your brain
and you do the right thing.
See aurora's light
cascading down in the sky
of Alaska's night
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.