Best Buttes Poems

The air is fresh, mornings crisp and clear
God I do love this time of year
Vibrant colors abound on the trees
Gracefully falling with the breeze
The workday runs from sun to sun
Until the "Bringing in of the crops" is done
I am a lucky man to live this...

Continue reading...

Most Beautiful Christmas Poem 11/25/22  Based on the Messianic Prophecies
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Christmas Rose	

The Christmas Rose bursts into bloom
As echoes of midnight’s final chimes resound –
Precious Bloom of Perfect Prophecy inhales a first breath 
Of winnowing starlight foretold
The Prince of Heaven steps into our blemished creation
New lungs...

Continue reading...

Afternoon of elephants,
scent of hibiscus
within this fantasy
spawned from television.

They stand in their majesty
meeting head to head,
trunk caressing trunk.
Sisters in a loving pose
while the newest member of the pack
troops under their bellies
weaving between giant legs and toes
that everybody knows
look like buttes in Arizona.

Suddenly, the baby darts...

Continue reading...

war rages upon buttes
nature's elements lash out
against lofty peaks

frigid winds and rain
slowly carve out gaping wounds
indiscernibly

deeply scarred faces
erosive testimony
of battered bodies

Tanya Harrington  ©  07-03-2012
For Mountain Haiku Contest...

Continue reading...

Last Stroke of Midnight	

The last stroke of midnight chimes –
All plans stand at attention, start here,
Perfect prophecy inhales the first breath 
Of winnowing starlight foretold
As you draw up to step into your blemished creation
With new lungs filled with crisp fulfillment.

Torrents of roaring grace
Smash narrow portals...

Continue reading...

Across the prairie, driving fast,
a gust of wind, I cannot pass,
I’m transfixed by rippling grass,
stop the car in this empty space,
the blades all move in staggered waves.

Cattle graze nearby, lazily,
to the motion the pay no heed,
though one stares warily at me,
but I’m still caught by...

Continue reading...

Jenna lived in rural Wyoming lands,
where grass rolled over small ridges and buttes,
a small town way out in the cow country,
where the ranchers still throw lassos in loops.

She was driving out to see her boyfriend,
who owned a ten thousand-acre large spread,
he had a big house,...

Continue reading...

Aqueous humor: she said of the buddahs hands that were
placed upon the table. Macula, and marvelous! A specticail
appealing to the eyes. Yards and Yards of lemongrass, and
beautiful bounties of Buddhas hands, the booty and prize of
chorered men willing to citriate a non citrated world.
Her caruncle...

Continue reading...

Hanging upon high
Past the midnight solstice
The moon stands guard
An unwavering sentry
Against the feral skyline
And crimson Marsala roses
Cloistered as funerary offerings
Flouting at the surrogate dawn

Heavy thunder claps
Echoing ubiquitously
Off the archaic Swamp Oaks
Rattling the houses ire
Down to wood and copper bones
Muting with the soft finality
Altering the midnight...

Continue reading...

At six o’clock the road turned bare
as we rode through Tennessee.
From Nashville to Memphis is a long,
dark stretch of gray and brown trees
and fields where no one ever walks or works.
I’ve often wondered who owns those empty spaces.

The rains kicked up and splattered the windshield...

Continue reading...

Another Day’s Rhyme

I’ve seen majestic mountains on a celestial plain,
beautiful valleys with waving fields of grain.
I have marked buttes of red rock scraping the clear blue sky,
a view of the Grand Canyon that brought a tear to my eye.

I’ve seen the desert in New Mexico...

Continue reading...

Amazing views of undulating colorful sandstone hill                         
             ...

Continue reading...

Image of South Africa Cape Town Table provided by Pixabay

Token Steps 


Ruling winds the austral buttes naked slopes ...

                   as vortex smoky rise aloft Zulu's kraal
 ...

Continue reading...

Ridden Hard, Put Up Wet


Worn down landscape
Ridden hard and put up wet over eons of time.
Buttes interspersed with ravines and wadis,
Vast irregular symmetry.

Clumps of purple blue green sage
To have been seen by the riders of olden times.
Clusters scattered randomly.
A patchwork without design
Covering endlessly to the...

Continue reading...

I.
Myron Baker wasn’t much of a man
for gunplay, whiskey, or ladies of the night.
He'd made his move out the western way
for space to live his life just as he liked.

He’d gotten himself a good spread of land
not too far south of the rolling Black Hills,
his...

Continue reading...