Best Frontier Poems | Poetry

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New Frontier Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Frontier poems are below this new poems list.

Give Us A New Frontier by Welch, David
Final Frontier by Brereton, Kale
The Final Frontier by Wolf, White
Alaska, The Last Frontier by Spilchuk, Dennis
last frontier by Medrano, Harris
THE FINAL FRONTIER by Cunningham, Tom
Crossed Frontier by Wielgus, Art
The Final Frontier by Parker, Frederic
Final Frontier by Dillenbeck, Gerald
Frontier days by pederson, doug

View all new Frontier Poems

The Best Frontier Poems

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The Final Frontier

Death, the final frontier?

A nest is round.

Our nest the Earth is round like all the stars and planets.

All things are orbital, even time and space.

Let us analyse life and death like night and day or water and vapour!

But, this time see death as the day and life as the night.

So in our day, we see all things clearly,

and in our night we are blindly stumbling, or lost in a dream.

The water we can see as life this time,

running always downhill subject to the gravitational pull.

The vapour is our spirit free of all Earthly bonds.

But, this too is a cycle continually reverting back and forth.

As the vapour raises towards the sky it is collected by the clouds.

Thus returning to Earth again as rainwater.

One major point to always remember in "life" also is that

you cannot create or destroy energy!

It only transforms. 









Copyright © White Wolf | Year Posted 2018


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Heritage

The ranch on which I hang my hat, though short on most the frills,
Is thirteen sections, give or take, of rugged trails an’ hills.
We call it ‘home’, our little world, our very own frontier,
Amongst the cattle, sheep an' goats; the varmints, hogs an' deer.

Today I watched the breakin' dawn an' whiffed the mornin' air,
A time I often set aside for things like thought an' prayer.
A Mockin'bird an' Mornin' Dove, an' other birds at play,
Were there to sing an' set the mood to start another day.

This mornin' saw the strangest thing, like time itself had merged,
An' all the souls who once were here, appeared an' then converged.
In swirlin' clouds of mist an' fog, right off the bluffs they rolled,
Till all had gathered in the glen, the modern an' the old.

The Indians, conquistadors, an' other ancient men,
The soldiers from this country's wars, an' cowboys from back when…
They all had come from yesterday to help me understand
Our link with those who came before, to heritage an' land.

A crazy notion, so I thought, that they could just appear,
But as the morning went along the reason got real clear.
They rode along with me that day to show me things I’ve missed,
The things I’ve seen a thousand times an’ some I’d just dismissed.

Those wagon roads of long ago, still evident today,
Are carved in rock an' rutted earth, not apt to wash away.
They linked the missions, forts an' towns those many years gone by;
An' left their mark for all to see, as modern times grew nigh.

The artifacts an' weathered ruins attest to yesterdays,
When others came an' lived their lives in very different ways.
We've seen their skill in arrowheads they honed from fired stone,
An' craftsmanship in beads an' tools they fashioned out of bone.

At ever turn and trail we took was something to remind,
The Maker must have had a plan laid out for humankind.
The Earth He made’s been feedin' us a half-a-million years,
An' used it's wonder, force an' change to challenge pioneers.

I do not know if they'll return or if they’ll feel the need,
But I’m prepared to ride the trail, where ever it may lead.
We all are spirits ridin’ time with bodies of the Earth,
Whose time has come to take the reins an’ offer up our worth.

The land has been the legacy we cultivate an’ reap,
The life has been the heritage our father’s fought to keep,
An’ we are bound throughout our time with those who came before,
To put our hearts and souls to it, and make it something more.


Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2009


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WE ARE BROTHERS II



 
Don’t look at me 
As though I am an alien or a stranger,
Don’t let the dagger of antipathy 
Fly out of your eyes.

I am your neighbor.

Don’t call me a foe, an antagonist or a rival,
Don’t roll up your mistrustful sleeves for a fight.

I am your friend.
 
Don’t hold this murderous weapon in your kind hand, 
Don’t deny me the right to work, to eat, or to live.

I am your brother.
                                        
If destiny willed me to be born 
On this side of the frontier line,
If my parents wished me 
To wear these clothes 
And taught me their own dances,
Do we have to be adversaries?  
 
If fate desired me to speak 
This tongue foreign to you
And our skins’ color to differ,
Do we have to be competitors?
 
If necessity decided for us 
To live in this country, 
In the North, South, East, or West,
Do we have to be opponents?
 
If I believe in Jesus, 
Jehovah, 
Krishna, 
Buddha, 
Brahma 
Or Allah,
If this is my philosophy, 
My tradition, 
My history 
And my culture,
Do we have to be enemies?
 
No! A million times: no!

Please, look at me with new eyes 
And throw away your injurious prejudices.
What do you see but a person like you 
Who wants, desires and hopes for the same things in life:
Well-being,
Happiness, 
A home, 
Family, 
Some friends, 
Some love?

Look: 
I walk, 
I talk, 
I eat, 
I sleep, 
I dream, 
I laugh and I cry. 

Just like you.

I’m born, 
I grow up, 
I learn, 
I suffer, 
I bleed 
And I die.

Just like you.

I’m a father, 
A mother, 
A brother, 
A sister, 
A son, 
And a daughter.

Just like you.

You see: we are alike. 
We are the same. 
We are brothers.
 
Listen to me my neighbor, my friend, and my ally: 
I am telling you the truth.
We are the victims of schemes, 
Well planned in advance
By deceitful evil-hearted men 
Who wished for our destruction.
 
They, masters of savage forgery, dividers of mankind
Have tricked us throughout history 
With well-orchestrated lies
And with treacherous stories. 
These intellectually impotent criminals
Have instilled poison in your heart and mine.
Thus, by cultivating hatred, bitterness and rage,
They managed to shape us to ruthless foes, 
To merciless enemies,
To cruel animals.

Please, listen to me! It is true. We are brothers.
 
Let us therefore with irresistible will cross all frontier lines 
That the past has erected between us, 
Thus making divisions vanish.
                                                                            
Let us with supreme power break the bonds of history,
Religion and culture and run into each other’s arms.
 
Let us uproot from our tormented hearts thorny mistrust
That was planted there thousands of years ago.
 
Let us seize ammunition from destructive hatred,
And make war capitulate.
 
Let us sink the cholera of bitterness 
In the affectionate sea of universal accord. 

And finally,

Let us unite and march to higher claims, 
To incomparable glory
Where peace can blossom today.
Thus, both of us will go to sleep at last,
Fearless of each other tonight.



© Demetrios Trifiatis 
    08 September 2015


NOTE: This poem, after having been edited, is posted again because 
 of the acute migration and refugee problem that has been created 
in Europe. Greece, my country, receives thousands and even tenths 
of thousands of refugees and illegal immigrants each day. In some of 
the Greek islands the migrants are more than the Greeks. Some of these
 people leave for Europe where in countries like F.Y.R.O.M., Serbia, Hungary
 Bulgaria, Austria, Germany, France, Italy have created social and economic problems because of their numbers. This fact prompted me, after the suggestion
of a good friend at PS, to repost the poem so as to ask from all, migrants and natives, understanding and tolerance for the good of peace! Thank you!  
    




Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2015


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Compadre

We’ve shared the trail, kicked up some dust, An’ stood a storm or two. We’ve rode the plains, the wide frontier, The easy trails were few. You’ve listened like some wise old sage To ever thing I’ve said, An’ as a friend, supported me, No matter where it led. I wished I coulda carried you, The times you were in pain; Or rustled up some kinda shed To turn the blowin’ rain. I’ve come up shy with some your needs, You gave me more’n you got, But in your silence, seemed to know, I needed you a lot. Compadre, friend, amigo, pard; I called you all them things, But there’s been times, I swear to God, You musta had some wings, An’ He sent you to care for me Like no one had before. If you’as a man an’ not a horse, I couldn’t a-loved you more. We gave this ranch our sweat an’ blood, It’s yours as much as mine, An’ raised our young’uns through the years, An’ Lord they’re doin’ fine. They’re blazin’ trails an’ raisin’ dust, They’re off an’ runnin’ free. We’ve taught ‘em well an’ made ‘em strong; Compadre, you an’ me. I always knew the day would come When we would fine’ly ride, To join the Maker’s round-up time, Up on the Great Divide. I sorta hoped we’d share the trail But this was not to be, So, you go on, we’ll ride again; Compadre, you an’ me.


Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2005


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Star Trek and Captain Kirk's Final Frontier

Kirk: ‘Lt. Uhura, come to my quarters at 1800 hours’
Uhura: ‘Yes captain, might I ask what’s up?’
Kirk: ‘Nothing now but something WILL be at 1800 hours’
Bones: ‘Jim, is this a medical issue?’
Kirk: ‘You bet your ***** it is, Bones’
Sulu: ‘Captain, a Klingon ship is approaching’
Kirk:  ‘Blast that sucker to smithereens, I got a date’
Chekov: ‘Captain, you’ll need protection on this mission’
Kirk: No problem Ensign, got a few here in my wallet’

Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘May the force be with you’
Kirk:’ Thanks Obi, but you’re in the wrong contest’
Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘This isn’t PD’s contest?’
Kirk: ‘HELL no, now SKAT will probably disqualify us’
Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘Well, may the force be with you anyway’
Kirk: ‘Look Kenobi, nobody’s forcing ANYBODY here’

Spock: ‘Captain, I’m receiving a message from SKATfleet Command’
Kirk: ‘What Mr. Spock? And why do you always talk like that?’
Spock: ‘To qualify for the contest, the writer has to command the ship’
Kirk: ‘Damn it all! What the…FRONT AND CENTER WRITER!’
Writer: ‘Um…All hands on deck?...Anchors away?’

Uhura: ‘Ohh Captain KIRRK, it’s 1800 hours’…
Kirk: ‘Not now Uhura, I’m not in the mood!’
Uhura: Ohh Captain WRITERRR, it’s 1800 hours’…
Writer: ‘Kirk, you have the helm. I’ll be in my quarters’ 
Spock: ‘Fascinating’
Kirk: ‘Shut-up Spock’…

Tim Ryerson
Theme: Sexual harassment in the workplace
For SKAT’s contest



Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2013


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Mackenzie Trail

When doves on evenings, calm and still, call out a hollow tone, They rouse a medley, old as time, so few have ever known. The whispered lines of its refrains resound of yesterday, In ancient tales and bygone trails that man cannot portray. I’ve rode and worked along a trail throughout my many years. I’ve heard the tales the sages tell of raging Longhorn steers, Of soldiers marching single file or mounted days on end, Of Indians, conquistadors and Rangers tracking men. Mackenzie Trail is not well known for time obscures its fame, But high regard is placed on it by those who know its name. Its story’s scribed in black and white, its remnants etched in stone, Its way was marked by sweat and blood, by grave and bleaching bone. The broad frontier that it traversed had yet to be surveyed And danger seemed to lie in wait at every turn and grade. From Fort Clark Springs to forts on north, it led Mackenzie’s men To risk their lives out on the trail, then brought them home again. A mound lies near Mackenzie Lake, where horse thieves met despair, For Rangers tracked their hurried trail and hung them then and there. And near a barn not far away, in Live Oaks’ blissful shade, The remnants of a camp still lie where soldiers often laid. I’ve rode the trail and damned the rock that cost my horse a shoe. I’ve crossed its draws that filled with rain and made my lips turn blue. Its rugged paths have tested me and all who’ve come this way, Yet, it remains my trail through time, my bond with yesterday. Mackenzie Trail will long survive, a monument to will, That I recall when I ride near on evenings, calm and still; When doves exclaim in harmony, their lonely, hollow tone And rouse the medley, old as time, so few have ever known.


Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2009


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2012

Come with me on a journey of thought

Open your mind and let’s travel creation

Let us not follow the sheep the masses

They are lost and confused

With no direction but to follow

Take off your shoes with me

And walk this creation

Let our souls feel the way

We shall tread the path of our desires, our happiness

The meaning of life

Our existence to inherit, this bounty of creation

Happiness, abundance, love and peace

Open your mind to enter paradise

For there it exists

Lay down your heavy baggage of fears and doubts

Lift your spirit free to soar like the wind

Have courage, faith and the wisdom of love

We shall follow the path of our dreams

A new era is a dawn

Enter the new frontier

Tread the path with me that awaits

A new time in our history of existence

We shall have, be, and go where our thoughts take us

On the path we tread to our dreams

Who ever you are, where ever you may be

Paradise exists, 

When you tread the path with me


Copyright © simone segal | Year Posted 2009


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Probing the Unconscious Space

If the unbearable lightness of being has pushed you to the brink of catastrophic meltdown,
walk to the edge of our flat two-dimensional existence 
and take a leap of faith...

You may drift through space for quite some time
eyeing the stars, the planets, the galaxies
that make up the great and boring universe beyond.

Eventually you'll come across darker, scarier territory,
unseen with the naked eye
yet comprising 95% of all matter,
and all that matters,
otherwise known as the unconscious.

Some day you'll feel safer in the void, 
more secure,
at peace.

With not one mirror in sight to reflect your self concept,
everything and nothing make perfect sense here,
for they are one and the same.

You are the only observer
of man's true final frontier
and his one and only mystery.


Copyright © Yoni Dvorkis | Year Posted 2009


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My Old Black And White

What I’d give to wake in the morning and hear those church bells ring
To turn on my old black and white and hear Gene Autry sing
Turn back the time to simpler days with Roy and Dale too
Wait for the Late Show and watch the antics of Bud and Lou
All the girls thought Kookie Byrnes was really hip
Driving a convertible on Seventy Seven Sunset Strip
Kryptonite was the only thing that could make Superman falter
Ramar’s friend Charlie talked to a parrot named Walter
I watched Kitty and Chester on Gunsmoke and listened to Ricky sing
There was Circus Boy, My Friend Flicka and don’t forget Sky King
There was Jeff and Lassie, Davy Crockett and the Wild Frontier
I’d watch Robin Hood and Marian in the days of Queen Guinevere
Remember The Thin Man, The Whistler and The Shadow Knows
Alfred Hitchcock and Inner Sanctum were two of my favorite shows
I remember Milton Berle, Red Skelton, Perry Como would croon
What’s my Line, Beat the Clock and Name That Tune
The Life of Riley, Leave it to Beaver and Father Knows Best
Palladin, Sugarfoot, and Cheyenne in the Old West
Boxing from Madison Square Garden on Friday Night
I saw it all on my old black and white.


Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2009


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My Galloping Heart

without faltering

                             unbridled it gallops to

                                                              its final frontier

Dec. 26, 2016 For THE TROIKA (Haiku with hooves) Contest of John Lawless


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016


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SPACE - the final frontier

SPACE BLOG

”Captains Log”
 ""20/12.1""
”Closing Cruise”

Space… the final… frontier 

Milky Way 
Classified 
Spiral look
~Violent place*** found in the space*** center of the UNIVERSE

Elliptical 
Galaxies, 
Egg shape ship
~Billions of *** light years from*** face of Earth

Millions to,
Trillions stars,
Can’t touch the fantasy of this
~Old red stars *** very low *** gas and dust

Collisions 
Have destroyed 
The structure, when in flight
~We see in*** our own epic*** galaxy.


The Voyage has begun- come join me
And, journey to all undiscovered countries-
Boldly going where no man or no one has gone before-
High on my spaceship:)

PD



Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013


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Stagecoach

I took my periodic stroll through the local antique store today.
There were the usual horse collars, clocks and various sundries on display.
Havin' no need fer horse collars and sech, I quickly passed them by,
But a paintin' of an abandoned stagecoach really caught my eye!

The artist depicted it in a field overgrown with tumbleweeds and brambles.
It looked so very forlorn, its former glory now in a total shambles!
I contemplated this poignant scene and mused upon its past,
And how it may have helped conquer the western frontier so very vast!

I could picture the cranky driver a-cussin' and crackin' his leather whip,
Stingin' the ears of his cantankerous mules urgin' them on to a faster clip!
As they raced across arid deserts and rounded treacherous mountain curves,
How the passengers must've been jostled, gittin' on each others nerves!

I visualized the characters that old stage must've transported to the west!
There were gamblers seekin' suckers, concealin' ample aces in their vest!
Platoons of preachers clutchin' their Bibles were numbered 'mongst the hosts,
And young and innocent teachers were headin' west to teach at army posts!

Soiled doves, plyin' their trade, were headed fer sawdust saloons.
I wondered if the old stage had ever been sacked by outlaws and their goons.
I reckon the old derelict had earned its repose - its axles no longer squeal. 
If only that old stage could speak! My oh my! The secrets it might reveal!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved


Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2013


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The Whips Of History - 4

Injustice is just an inconvenience until it is proven...
When the sun hit their helmets it startled the very souls of the natives
a signal upon their eyes that spoke like a siren of ill prophecy to the bone,
the armaments of a hell that hushed any hope of mythical tribal ties,
steel and steeds struck and trampled stone age traditions
and the Cross and Crown crushed the crowds that gathered for the Conquistadors, 
arquebus bursts blew away bodies like brittle straw bundles
crossbows crippling the courage of Indians with crosscut arrows,
Spanish war dogs demonic in pursuit of pagan bowels 
tearing into Incan and Aztec flesh with furious fangs,
Virococha and Quetzalcoatl were not to be found in the battles
but in the temple plazas the hot blood did spill into a new calander of rites,
the mita of a hundred generations meted out for an ecomienda of ceaseless serfdom,
men and women converted, not to a new class of faith, but a new caste of animal kingdom,

Men and women converted, not to a new class of faith, but a new caste of animal kingdom, 
Captain we've lost three more this morning,  the flux fever has finished their fight,
that's thirteen total since we disembarked from the Ivory Coast ladden like a whale with 375 of them...
The Dahomey warlords do not believe in the blood of their captives, nor pity their plight
the Portuguese,  French and English store them like wet wood in the beach barracks
and here on the Sea Lion we lie them down like sweating corpses,
Toby, I've been shipping in this trade triangle for 18 years, pretending that its just business, 
the stink and screams of human cargo are spoiling my soul, forcing slow tears,
the ocean used to look so blue to me, now it's just a rolling swell of suffering, 
ring the bell three times for Neptune, before tossing them into the deep tide at twilight, 
tell Jenson that I value his sea smarts, but that if I see him torment another human being
I will burn a hole through his throat with a fire iron and hang him from the front mast,
my conscience won't allow me to be a courier of insanity anymore,
every voyage begins with innocence, and all must end with admitting who and what you are...

Every voyage begins with innocence,  and all must end with admitting who and what you are...
Today a man was freed who's back has the scars of a thousand cruelties, 
abolition freed his will to the labor of liberty yet his soul cannot escape the field master,
blood stains upon unrefined cotton he has not forgotten in his sleeping cries,
his great grandmother spoke of stars in an African sky
his grandfather revealed traditions told quietly about ancient spirits,
when his Mother died under the sun he didn't ask why
and as his Father fought the overseer he knew what honor is,
by 1810 Denmark, Britain, and the United States of America had banned transatlantic slave trading, 
Sierra Leone had become an industrious colony of former slaves,
by 1865 civil war in the United States dismantled slavery,
the 13th and 14th Amendments became the pillars of a new nation's days,
oh how fast the fields have grown,
so much more for our future to fathom,

I will beat you with it, choke you with it, and love you with it,
your beauty Avia, will survive in the legend of Goshen's price,
brutality is in the very bedrock here, within the law insanity kept,
yet it are the truly noble whom rise to death with confidence, 
slay the symbols of captivity and you'll be set free,
Gentlemen,  behold, the wild yet curious Laurentia, an unexplored beauty,
wonder not what good your purpose is, the soul knows what must be,
we will escape to the frontier where our love and independence have priority, 
We will be the trustees of life's passions...
the world has awoken to our march, to our lightning it will listen,
Captivity can be the catalyst for self empowering revelations...
Injustice is just an inconvenience until it is proven...
men and women converted, not to a new class of faith, but to a new caste of animal kingdom, 
Every voyage begins with innocence,  and all must end by admitting who and what you are...
so much more for our future to fathom,
this whip is a relic of war -

J.A.B.
I began composing this epic on July 3rd,
and completed the work on August 7th,
investing approximately 135 hours of intellect. 
Also, I did not compose the 15th sonnet
prior to writing the preceeding 14 sonnets...Justin A. Bordner


Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2016


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On Juno Ranch, A Cowboy's Day

If you'd have lived and worked on Juno Ranch, you’d have come away better for it. It 
may not have seemed like it at the time but Pancho (Uncle Frank) would put it to you, an’ it 
was for you to decide to do it, what to do with it, or to fight. The motto was, “You either work 
or fight, there ain’t no quittin’ on this-here ranch.”

     Pancho cultivated a reputation as a living legend in his fifty-some years in the Devil’s 
River country of the Texas frontier. He loved his life, family, work and felt plumb lucky to be 
livin’ it. He believed there was art in every undertakin’ an’ practiced the highest standards in 
dealin’ with any an’ all comers. He savvied horses, cattle an’ the land; and death was just the 
gate that opened into higher pastures.

     Ride 'em Pancho!


The cowboy wakes before each dawn With blurry eyes n'a mournful yawn; Gets breakfast down, just bacon'n eggs, An' biscuits dunked in coffee dregs. He feeds the stock some oats an' hay In growin' light of break o' day. Then Pancho comes an' rigs a hoss, An' chews his butt, 'cause he's the boss. “The sun is up, you little bride! We're loosin' light! We gotta ride!” So they ride out to make their rounds In echoed clops of hoof-beat sounds. The sun is high 'bout half-passed noon, An' dinnertime is none too soon. He eats his beans an' taters fast, Then rolls a smoke an' rests at last. He dreams of how he'll spend his pay When he's in town on Saturday, An' where he'll go to have some fun With gals who'll laugh and call him, "Hun..." He gets his hat an' pulls it down, Forgets the dream of gals in town, Cause if he ain't just damn near dead, The work comes first on Pancho's spread.


Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2009


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A Cowboy Is

The unsung heroes of the open plains The outlaw bandits like Jesse James Cut throat thieves and black jack hustlers Green horn Cowboys and long horn rustlers They all stood the Cowboys test A stetsons man a broncos best Leather chaps and leather vest A real man's man a cut above the rest Blazing saddles and blazing guns Long trail ride and mountain runs Chuck wagon chilly and camp fire sites Hot sweaty days and long cold nights A Cowboy sits on his faithful steed Quick draw fingers based on speed Bandanna mask and whiskey flask A Cowboys job is'nt an easy task Tabacco chew and cow beef stew a Cowboys gang and Cowboys crew They did work from dusk to dawn round 'em up and brand 'em all day long Gee!!! and haw!!! right and left Yee and haw out of breath Cowboy slang and Cowboy lingo even Mexican Cowboys that say Gringo Greetings y'all and howdy stranger long lost wranglers and lone rangers Ruff and rugged with no frills Ask questions later shoot to kill Yellow belly buckaroos and snake oil peddlers wanted dead or alive outlaws and frontier settlers From the California gold rush of 48 to the 13 colonies of this great state Cowboys lived and Cowboys died!!!! Cowboys give for Cowboys pride!!!


Copyright © John Castro | Year Posted 2011


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* Imagine.... ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reformations amities amid poetics tour de force overture within, virtuoso's....

Fatalisms exuberant pas de deux; foreordained this ballet in exquisites verse

To cross dimensions of spatial extent; the new promised frontier?!

Paragons quintessential interludes gracing the paramouric stages

Amid divinities design a birth, borne upon the canvas of touchstone time....

Fantastic phenomena; parting these cosmic curtains in yesteryears ambivalence

Watersheds cardinal red moment in predestined manifestations crossing thresholds

Parallel spheres once bound by catharsises hand crafted crucibles reasons!?

Eclipsed, from limbo to be carried unto Eden; loves, eternal cats cradle palms....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

.... * “Imagine” ~


Copyright © John Rhinem | Year Posted 2011


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GLAZED LULL FROM HEAVEN


As evening hangs near, wrapped in silk cashmere It bathes the frontier with godliness dear… Winged robins I hear chanting psalms that steer Moonbeams to appear like glazed lull, revere That my doubt severe washes a cold tear; Abating night’s fear… snuggling heaven’s cheer. ~*~ Rhymers Delight—Internal Rhymes For John Hamilton dated 1.07.2017 Checked: www.howmanysyllables.com


Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2017


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At Gettysburg

Unyielding stone, the furniture
au naturel, no dress lace tablecloth
concealing ants scavenging our picnic lunch. Loathe
are we to flick them while they steal our cheese and crackers.

Siblings ensconced, diffused canopy of oak
umbrellas, searing sun bewitches charming shadows;
clover, petals three and sometimes four, meadows
pleasant carpets cradling this resolute rock.

These stones echo cries reverberating past
more than a century's memorializing years
when other siblings set swords upon this grave frontier
in armies blue and gray amassed.

Immortal the crashing clash, bone against bone,
at Gettysburg to keep this nation one.

Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, June 5, 2014


Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014


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Senior Year

It began on a high note
Dreams of a New Frontier
Those dreams were shattered in Texas
In the Fall of the same year
Christmas time was solemn
Before the storm there was the calm
We saw them escalate a war
Sending our young to Vietnam
It was a vibrant time to be alive
A good invasion hit our shore
The British sent their music
Our lives would be changed forever more
The times they were “a changing”
Was it better, was it worse
There was no time for apathy
Was it a blessing or a curse
In June came graduation
The fulfillment of our dreams
The Four Seasons sang about a Rag Doll
We were introduced to the Supremes
Now that our senior year was over
And we would go our separate ways
There remained a bond to hold us
Until our dying days
Some went off to college
Not knowing what’s in store
Almost all would serve their country
Some went off to war.


Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2009


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Slumber

Before the muted dawn appears To wake a dreamy thought A fire burns within the heart Of slumber time forgot Where rolling hills of velvet gold Through misty dreams appear Where peace surrounds a weary soul Without a hint of fear In cradled rest beneath soft silk Life's worries disappear I float in dream and roll beyond To forge a new frontier _________


Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2017


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Feathered Faith

Nature be my religion;
Prayer be my dominion.
Words felt but unwritten;
In fields of green and crimson.

I am a dreamer and a drifter;
A non–conformist, resister.
The wind is my whisper;
And the moonlight my sister.

I wear flowers in my hair;
Quote Shakespeare and Voltaire.
Have no qualms to swear;
Can make peace or warfare.

I prefer the solitude;
Depending on my mood.
But if a smile be the prelude;
Another may intrude.

The songs I sing are old;
The stories all foretold.
In tradition I enfold;
My blessings, manifold.

Two worlds, present and past;
Dwelling within the contrast.
Enigma or social miscast;
Artistry of life enthusiast.

Born to late;
To change the world's fate.
Too early to liberate;
Just in time to celebrate.

As storm clouds appear;
Between two world's frontier.
I look to those I most revere;
The prophet and the seer.

As we enter the eye of the storm;
The birds of prey become worn.
But in the early hours of the morn;
Sparrow's and crow's flight is born.

Center in the midst;
Find your balance to persist.
Take a hand, release a fist;
We're right on time to co–exist.


Copyright © Darlene Smith | Year Posted 2017


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Camelot Again?

I’m watching television, black and white, January 1961
A surge of expectancy in the populace, the dream
Kids in the White House, a buzz of activity
New president going to make his speech
Ask not what you’re country can do for you
Hope being restored, pride, respect
The New Frontier, vision, new ideals
                  Camelot
January 2009, plasma screen, 
A surge of expectancy in the populace, the dream
Kids in the White House, a buzz of activity
New president will make his speech
Crossing lines, uncharted territory
Hope being restored, pride, respect
Intelligence replacing idiocy
Leadership overtaking greed
Apathy being destroyed, youth involvement
	Camelot Again?

A time for Unity


Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2009


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The Final Frontier

Ebony black violent space
birth in depth, exploding stars
distances seem eternal
worlds spin traveling in circles
suns nothing but balls of gas
meteors flaming 
large and small craters
black holes gravity pulls everything in
space and time, matter and energy
heliocentric model from Copernicus's head
galaxy, Milky Way, dark matter
subatomic particles crashing atoms
creating and destroying stars turn dwarf
Creatures born crawl out of this mire
travelers in space crossing dimensions
the speed of light vehicles dream
destination, virgin planet
forest rivers, ocean sand
crashed on the plains of an African meadow
survivors in a violent realm
Earth was the name of this planet
they would never leave
it's now their home, they are Man

1/28/18 contest Ancient Aliens
 


Copyright © Frederic Parker | Year Posted 2018


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My Daughter My Nation


"My Daughter My Nation"



The climate of Georgia
is diverse, 
considering the nation’s
small size.

She walks with her head 
held high, 
ultra dignified
My daughter,
whom I love “Most".

I am her Black Sea,
her West Coast.
Familiar, yet -
uncharted territory
a foreign country drowned,
a mysterious
unconquered frontier.

Always close, 
my tides touch her shore,
then recede.
She dips her toes, 
considers which boat
to launch off in,
which adventure to seize.

Waves of a Mother -
calm then stormy seas,
low tides, high tides, 
cool deep waters,
then LOVE's blistering
burning breeze.

In water’s introspection
A natural evolution 
from station to station,
perfect reflection, an observation -
“TAKE LIFE!”, Ocean calls
to her Nation, 
without hesitation.

Courage of Child-no-longer.
Independent, clever 
Woman now, she’s “BECOMING” -
Stronger and stronger.
Familiar, yet -

Uncharted territory
a foreign country 
a mysterious, 
unconquered frontier,
that's My Daughter, 
My Nation.
Georgia.

No maps required, 
straight to the HEART -
Simple, pure magic vibration,
this my celebration,
My Daughter 
Queen of your own
Evolving, Stronghold Nation,
GEORGIA.



(Lovejoy-Burton/2018 Jan)

1.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6wc41N-GYY

2.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QSJfOLLE0Fk



Copyright © Leanne Lovejoy-Burton | Year Posted 2018


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Mr. Lopez and Mr. Ayers

I flip the history of Bojangles
On a cool Sunday evening
Los Angeles coming down
A flow of oboes breathing
Through the lung of the street
The hobo not stopping for air
Fingers moving in a dance
Across the strings of consciousness
Milking the music of his brain
Onto a breast 
Of dilated ears.

Mr. Lopez, unsettled from his comfortable chair
Searching for something to tell
Against the neon of despair
Heard the dulcimer quelling hell
And saw himself standing bare
To the sheetless eyes
Of a man serenading Beethoven
Deaf as a statue
In the city's superfluous air.
Here is where humanity
Sings hope amidst the garden
Of hopelessness
That make direlict dreams
Tugging our divinity
Down to rags of nothingness.

Mr. Ayers, a quaver away
Juliard school in love aspiring
Suddenly there fallen
Amidst the glitter and glamor
Of non-existence
Peace, a basoon
Seducing a Los Angeles moon
Coy as a lover
In the tangle of wine memory
He plays against
The unkown sorrow of the world.
And here dedication
Drives us to distraction
Soon or late
Decomposing our minds
Into shards of glistening memories.

Discovery, today beholding yesterday
A bride for the first time
Amidst the silence of flowers
Cradling weeds and seeds of tomorrow.
Love without purpose 
Can change the course
Of splintering history.
He plays, harmony
In where the traffic blares
Yellow light onto his gray matter
Splitting airs with sharp sounds
They echo
Not the common pit, nor
To a single Maestro blending
The mind's kaleidoscope
Before the other's saner wit
Along highways and wind tunnels
He brings to a sombre note
To ode all joys
Strugling repressed under
Human ambition 
Ayers is my minstrel
Jarred by a nerve
Not wired for sleep.

Fortune smiles
From the frontier of friendhsips
Fondled by the music
Of love unfranchised
Awakes the lyre
To sing in the resurrection of desire.
Friendship is a sheltering tree
From life's base tragedies. 



Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009