Best Far Reaching Poems
International Earth day prompts us not to forget
that the world we inhabit is under great threat
Blue oceans are being choked by plastic pollution
reduce, reuse and recycle is the simple solution
The balance of nature has been upset by man
species close to extinction, poachers strike if they can
If we don’t act quickly these rare breeds we’ll lose
their only protection is in nature reserves or zoos
Felling the rain forest is an issue we must combat
deforestation is destroying animal’s natural habitat
The effects of global warming on earth is far reaching
reducing fossil fuels is what we should be preaching
Educating both young and old is the key to success
we must act together to try to sort out earth’s mess
2/17/19
God is the deity I have been taught from young to respect,
An all-powerful light, streaming down, which I can always detect.
He is Omnipotent, a light of miracles, our almighty everlasting King,
God is my light Supreme, and with, faith, hope and praises,
To Him I sing.
He is unconquerable, invincible, His love like a radiant light
Shining within us, like THE Christmas star so calming
And so celestially bright.
God is unconquerable, absolutely not vulnerable
His Omnipotence quells my fears, lights my way, He’s invincible.
Light and good is our Omnipresent God, He is always with me,
God for me is all knowing.
I always try to follow the path of light and pray joyfully
With all the faithful.
Have your stairway to heaven clear, and your senses wakeful,
Our Lord God our maker is omniscient, He is all seeing,
His light is far-reaching, and for me ever comforting
I turn to him with prayer in any hour of grief, His light
Brings me peace, love and light all encompassing.
Entering Contest:
The Light Poetry Contest
Sponsored By : Regina McIntosh
14th December 2020
The flush of spring has bought new life to romp in greening feed,
along the border with the forest where domestic flocks do breed.
Managed through the daylight by the fear of being seen,
the sentinels of death await for night when they are keen.
Though distant lights may glow as beacons for the lost,
guerrilla’s stream out silently in pack form to accost,
and satisfy their lust for blood without no grace or fear,
frustrating yet the hand of man. By dawn they disappear.
Far reaching eyes in anger lies where wilderness is dense,
I know my soul is being watched beyond the border fence,
locked into disappointment where flies gather at my feet;
There’s blood-stained wool on rotting flesh, with no thought to eat.
Immediate is my judgment for no trial is needed here,
I am the executor of the guilty, who dare to wander near.
Survival is the wisdom tho’ for the wily streetwise cur,
the frenzy’s not in pattern! It’s too late for where they were.
The night is cold and lonely with the urge for needed sleep,
but as the shepherd of my flock I must protect my sheep.
A pack will form again when blood is dry and lost its scent;
Until the last sheep drops their guard, no dog shall here repent.
The lead appeared Alsatian bounding surprised in its flight,
for its escape back to the bush in my sudden cheating light.
The echo of my three-o-three thundered through the hills,
with-in the change of retrospect. ‘Tis I who wants the kills.
Death took a holiday tonight where death was meant to be,
my shot was high or wide or low, ‘twas more shadow I could see.
Silence returned and in my light that scanned the field and scrub,
I knew that I was being watched, beyond a woodland shrub.
So many years have gone by since the day
Came for my broken heart to start mending.
Carefully, a kind spirit came lending
A star that reigns high in the Milky Way.
She shines here too, but soon scurries away-
Always to keep the mystery pending.
Far reaching for the time you'll be spending.
Forever here her sacred name shall stay.
Now, continue to search, and search again;
But, in these lines, she will always remain.
Keep searching for her name; I cannot yield.
You shall find her; keep asking yourself how.
Review the clues you've been given; and now,
With this ink, our eternal kiss is sealed.
© 2017
Nothing has a reason to begin with
It is a party of its own with no clothes on
Formulaic intricacies grow wild in mushroom clarity
Causality set in motion by music sounds out loud
Its grasp far reaching, weightless, astounding
On a line of invisibility destiny stretches in a yawn
Violins have no strings to be attached to any song
Held fast in times illusion
Dancing is forbidden in the dark
Freedom is an extension, not exactly hair
Randomly receding in all directions
Time is unwinding on tomorrows blink
Strobe-lights are an afterthought of spinning on
History sinking fast with every drink
Coming to festivities with one shoe missing is wrong
The black one or was it a sneaker
Let me think
Music laughs at circumstances quite like this
But changes tempo as it wishes
Surrounds circles so circular and round
Directs them to their proper corners square
Orgasmic at the edges of forgetfulness in fun and laughter
Circles are not square
Not yet!
The evening is young and has no children
Light the cigarette with caution
Don't forget the curtains
For no other reason than attention to be friendly
Tip the waitress when the party ends
Logic dictates that we leave before we came
That way we can go and never come again
Across the valleys and far-reaching hills
the spirit of man to this day remains…
keepers of liberty guard one covenant
though battles rage across the earth
like deep markings from time past--
yet the global village rises ever boldly
from the lunges of imperial greed.
Until the drums rumble an anthem,
with an elixir that pours a sacred mark
kindling the warriors’ grit, renewed
from their legendary descendants’ wail:
That a collective language rings
a most powerful voice that affirms
one timeless creed … “peace begins with me,”
reaching far out beyond all heaven’s skies,
as spirit of brotherhood thrives within … free.
The Sword Speaks Contest
Sponsor: Julia Ward 2/3/2017
On ocean bowride below gentle titans peep
ghost ships of the Pacific hunt and chase -
where great barnacled seafarers of the deep
beneath the waves its blue waters grace.
Old sea tales of killing lance and spear tip
tell of the dying struggle of the flurry -
once more mighty hulks of beast and ship
haunt the dark shadows of the undersea.
Let no harpoon pierce your skin,
no flense cut and slice,
not body or fin.
Let no kill sound its death throes,
and may long
live the shout of “thar she blows!”
Far and yon an old boneyard whaling station
fluking bulls and cows circle the perilled pod,
and breach and dive in fabled echolocation
the bones of Ahab and wreck of the Pequod.
Still ghost ships old hunting grounds scout
that mystic echo whalesong far reaching,
and still cavernous mouths unmade to shout
trap by moon and tide on remote beaching.
Let no harpoon pierce your skin,
no flense cut and slice,
not body or fin.
Let no kill sound its death throes,
and may long
live the shout of “thar she blows!”
Written: July 1992
Happy birthday wishes to Susan Lawrence today (29 Jan) - may your day be as beautiful and uplifting as your poetry and art.
Above a plain a mountain rises
on it grows a forest green -
within that wood there stands a pine
a talisman of growth unseen
Upon its branch there grows a cone
inside that pinecone dwells a seed -
within its womb a prophecy
of birth and life: a family tree
Through glorious forest sails a wind,
an avatar of cleansing breath-
dispersing smoke, transporting rain
to nourish life and stave off death
On restless wind there soars a lark,
within its breast there dwells a song -
a tune set free from gravity
a song of flight and liberty
Above the wind ascends the sun,
its trek through space of lavish worth
delivering on thermal wave
a warmth that warrants life on earth
Warmed by the sun's rays lies a shore
with breakers polishing a shell -
when held up to attentive ear
sounds like the sea - it calls to home
And from the mountain's summit soars
an eagle, keen with sharpened eye -
sees all creation in its lays:
so magical yet ordinary
infinite yet temporary
the majesty of growth and birth
of harmony throughout the earth:
of nourishment and unity,
of life and death and liberty,
of home and warmth and family.
That eagle is the artist
with a poet's far-reaching vision
And she carries on her wings a message
to heal mankind of all division
If I have to poetry see and define
My words would shrink and stop to ink
My thoughts would be unable to align
And in confusion I would rather sink..
Visions in words would learn how to speak
Words marvellously moulded by a wordsmith
Far reaching charm a poet would constantly seek
Unique gems adeptly crafted by a goldsmith..
It’s the power to paint and portray
Compose a tune.. an ambient so rare
An art gallery, a rich tapestry to display
Masters of words of sublime flair..
Much more.. the magic of poetry
The soul of verse can one acquire?
Abc’s and rules.. suffice to pen poesy!
Who grants the gift of Muse and the grace to inspire?
On the mystery of poetry I still ponder
Poets and their feeding Muse hearts impress
Their path of no sand or end would wander
What is predictable willing to transgress..
Fill your glossaries beyond lands and seas
Empty the wealth of your mine into sieves
Precious pearls of rare beauty you receive
Stir souls while telling stories before you leave..
I knew Billie and Bobbi and boy, were they fun,
At the end of the day when my work was all done,
And Miss Sally Sue Treet was a challenge to beat,
For the bakery that closed at the end of the street.
There was Pamela Jo with her joyful embrace,
And Miss Candy La Beau with her lip-sticky face,
There was Millie and Minnie and little Miss Mutt,
And the burgers we ate at the Chicken-Kiss Hut.
Now all of these moments, both loud and obscure,
Are the days of my life at the speed of a blur,
But in spite of them all and the fun they portray,
I would rather write poems with Emilia J.
For what is the world but a window to life,
And a garden of fruit to a husband and wife,
If you capture these truths in a far-reaching way,
Then you may win a bust of Emilia J.
Now Emilia J. is the master of poems,
And her works should be read in the finest of homes,
If you want to be read in a scholarly way,
You should write for the praise of Emilia J.
Now her works can be read in a comfortable bed,
With a husband named Bill or a woman named Fred,
If you want to be touched in a wonderful way,
Then you must read the poems of Emilia J.
Like the light of dawn, his words are far reaching
Beauty and love spread like sparkling rays of sun
Rising from the page in front of you
He writes in his own special way
When darkness grips or comes your way,
Take a look at what he has to say
His creation is a gift, everlasting
Like the light of dawn, that always returns
6/5/18
Heidi Sands
*Dedicated to Winged Warrior. Thank you for all your support and sharing your beautiful poetry.
The strings move emotions high and low
Following the keys with music so,
Beautifully smooth and flowing along
With a far reaching, soft, relaxing song
A musical journey to lead all of those
Listening intently through their woes
Into the moment where you have a chance
To fully live, listen and enhance
Your very own reaching into your soul
Where there, you can feel a sense of whole
Heidi Sands
12/19/17
These old hands-
The hands
that once played
the golden
threads
of
country music-
are now
scored by
years of
performing-
The wrinkles
on my face
are the
writings
of a broken man-
Deep lines-
carved on my
skin by age-
an emptiness
rests in the
far-reaching
solitude of my soul-
All that I wrote
is etched on
my heart-
like an
over flowing river-
In my eyes-tears
drafted their
revelations-
and imprinted
their most
profound thoughts-
Rosarys of lonlinss-
I did not
pray for this-
Desperate thread-
my heart did
not twist it-
Two
tears
Two
sad
eyes
in
shadow-
But through them
I finely
saw a rose
in these old hands-California Blue
‘Out’-discipline!
“Teacher, beaten by student.” “Student stabs another in squabble.”
“Teachers found without Lesson Plan.” “Noise level unbearable.”
Unfortunately, these would only be a few of the sordid headlines;
To duly ‘captivate’ readers, if every school had its own newsletter.
The very fabric of our beloved society has become deteriorated;
Because our homes and schools have failed to function effectively.
The consequences of this failure are dramatic and far-reaching.
Therefore, immediate redress for this chaos, we should be seeking,
Teachers frequently liming; the nation’s youths, we not educating.
Usually unprepared: for work, at work; and, not completing work.
The students are not: studying, doing home-work, nor assignments.
All busy; yet, finding time for gambling, hustling, surfing ****, etc...
The school surroundings depicting ‘pollution party;’ absolutely nasty.
Manners no longer, “maketh man...” nor woman, much-less children.
This is every school’s catastrophe; total, complete, present-day anomie.
Bending/breaking rules, norms, morals or ethics - ‘perfect’ indiscipline.
Indiscipline! Everyone fed-up: teachers, students; even the parents.
Who is now responsible? Corrective measures must make statements.
‘Heads must roll’ for incompetence; ‘butts should burn’ for laziness.
Neither students nor teachers must be ‘late for school,’ or ‘bussing a lime’.
Punishment must definitely be meted out for disrespect to teachers.
Actions must be taken for insubordination, and also for instigation.
Indiscipline must be addressed immediately and harshly, to redress...
We fed-up! We taking absolutely drastic measures to ‘iron-out’ this mess.
End
By: Dion Penville
Whence diplomacy fails mankind.
Soldiers amassed with patriotic duties to fulfill.
Some willing, some underaged, some desperate.
Weaponry and vehicular production overdriven.
Military strategies drafted that await execution.
Prayers flood the heavens, farewell letters penned vigorously.
None prepared for what’s to come, sweet talk is all they have.
Come dawn, they depart for the frontlines.
Unto the battlefield where the enemy lies.
One step forward and all hell breaks loose.
Gunshots pierce, artillery’s shrapnel far-reaching.
Mangled corpses sprawled for families to mourn.
Commands roared but not followed for fear fuels the men.
Chaos ensues ruthlessly with no end in sight.
Death and blood saturates the gruesome battlefield.
Oh dear God, do you hear the cries of sorrow?
Oh dear God, do you see your land blood-brimmed?
Who will you aid when good and evil are indiscernible?
Countries conquered, engulfed by terror and atrocities.
Air raids never ending, bomb shelters becoming the second home.
Civilians contemned, slaughtered like pigs, experimented on like rats.
Prisoners of War starving to the bones as they labor restlessly.
Anguish ever present but naught can be done to rid it.
Oh dear God, do you witness the atrocious brutality?
Oh dear God, will you show them mercy and end their misery?
Homeward, anxiety ravages mercilessly like a plague.
Will my beloved return for college?
Will my darling return to love?
Will my dearest return to tuck me in?
Answers undetermined for life preaches uncertainty.
Politicians stand unscathed whilst comrades lay crippled.
In the perpetual bid for peace, the world drowns in blood.