Best Frontier Poems
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.
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
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
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
Hello people I know
I know the people we are
the kind of people from here
passed out in a shack
with a butt and a beer
or outside in the road.
And the wind cries and drives
one of us to his knees
while the moon lights up
a line of pine trees
that might give some relief
but he's ready to freeze
in a song sent back home, dear,
from the western frontier.
Hello people I know
I know the people we're not
the kind of people from here
who say that things change
and you can go anywhere
and start over again.
And with no money at all
and too old to get hired
when's the ship coming in?
where's the ocean, the pier?
It's all dust everywhere
and banknotes all our years
in a song sent back home, dear,
from the western frontier.
Hello people I know
I know what we hoped
the kind of people from here
with cudgels and cutters
and "peace, man" and "cheers"
who mean well and don't.
And the reason we left
used to be very clear
and that's just how it is
and it's just what we feared
we would see if we caught
ourselves in a mirror
in a song sent back home, dear,
from the western frontier.
Behold the pioneering spiritualist, living on the edge
Of the civilizations harshest grid, seeking tranquilities
Harmony beyond the brick lined streets of stress and
Strife of the big city life!
These individualist of true grits foundation, whom live
Life to the fullest extent, tasting the winds of freedom
With every breaths inhalation and exhaling joy of
Revelation in this venue of isolation, known as
Alaska the last frontier!
In clarity’s ice kingdom of the forbidden land, does
Not alone wolf cry echoing, in the timbers breaking dawn
Of twilight's final hour, here endurance's vitality is set to fight and survive this call of the wild struggle!
Within the forest wilderness man and women,
Climb the heights vast divides of the untamable,
To achieve a simpler existence, of our forefathers
Harvesting the ancient theology, of the pioneering
Spirit!
Time reflecting architects thriving on the thrill
To endure, savoring the concurring desire to challenge
Against the obstacles seemingly impassible, living
Off the land and being grateful just for the promise
Of this opportunity to live freely, as men were meant
Too!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
The blinking downing sun of August
adorns the very tall stalks of wheat
with his last golden warm sunrays...
as the green kernels bend on stems.
The grasshoppers rest on soft leaves,
awaiting more wafts of cooler breezes;
black ants carry wicks in small droves,
until they reach the fragrant groves.
It's two months before harvest time,
the eyes of the farmer show no dire;
he can't wait for the kernels to ripen,
in mid October he will know his gain.
Delve in his mind, his thankfulness
is gratitude for a year well-earned;
sweat has paid off with huge profits,
the wheat field is a frontier of gold.
Where am I? Why is it dark?
This isn’t what I had in mind when I left the park…
Why isn’t the wind whispering…the songbirds singing?
All I remember is a telephone ringing…
A scream and a crash and a pain in my side…
Is this what happens after one’s died?
I don’t feel like myself, I feel wild and free,
Yet I’m cold and alone, 'stead of filled with glee.
My whole life I’ve studied, and pondered, and prayed,
Trying to fathom what would happen this day
But now that it’s here, I’m beginning to fear
Maybe the afterlife’s not what it appears…
It’s certainly not what I’ve been told by my preacher
Or my parents or brother or best friend or teacher…
Is it a bad thing, or is it good?
Maybe it’s just not quite understood...
While I was on Earth, I just couldn’t wait
To meet good St. Peter at the heavenly gate
And ask him a question or query or two
“What was my purpose?” “What good did I do?”
“What’s it all for?” “How does it all flow?”
“Can I have one more body, one more try, one more go?”
But where is the angel? Where is the gate? And
If this is Hell, then where is Ol’ Satan?
Am I a lost soul? Am I forgotten?
Am I to be left here until I am rotten?
Lo and behold! what, now, can this be?
Is this a wonderful spiritual epiphany?
Is this the magical feeling all souls receive
When they leave Earth? Oh! was I that naïve?
How could I have not seen the realism?
Why was I consumed in man-made idealism?
This is more wondrous than all I was taught
Oh, all the times I argued and fought
With others, ‘bout how their views were asinine
Now I see, theirs were just as wrong as mine!
Little I thought was actually correct!
How, why, did I let others petty beliefs infect
My untouched, my pure, my virgin mind?
I regret all the hours I self-tortured to find
That compared to what I see now, I was empty and blind…
Wait - - What is this that I see?
What is this gateway that is revealed unto me?
Now a door is opened to my immortal soul
I am expected now to enter my life’s final goal…
I am scared, intimidated, but still I am glad…
For the truth I have just seen is anything but bad.
This is the end of my journey, I’ve nothing to fear,
For now I am going Beyond the Frontier.
From the beginning of time there has been exploration
To undiscovered places by every rich nation
Mans great love for exploring has moved up a gear
He has accepted a new challenge; the final frontier.
Nineteen fifty seven saw the launch of sputnik one
Followed by sputnik two, the space race had begun
Russia was the first off the starting block
America was busy working around the clock.
The following year America entered the race
By sending explorer one up into space
Russia then sent up their first cosmonaut
America then followed with an astronaut.
America was now leading in the race for space
President Kennedy’s wanted a man, on the moons surface
The whole world was watching, they were eager to see
Eagle Landers touchdown in the sea of tranquillity.
Research and development is now taking place
To establish planet Mars as a forwarding base
Future missions will refuel and take on supplies
So astronauts can venture out into darker skies.
Look up on a clear night and look for the space station
Manned by astronauts from more than one nation
Mankind has shown that he has the capability
By developing spacecraft that was once fantasy.
There have been many celebrations and even some tears
Accidents have caused deaths of some brave pioneers
Two NASA space shuttles, Colombia and Challenger
Both exploded above the earth a tragic disaster.
Our sun will die out and mankind needs to survive
A new home is needed so humans can thrive
Mankind will colonise planets that’s a certainty
Using great minds to develop new technology.
Space exploration is new and is painfully slow
In the big scheme of things, we’ve a long way to go
But one day these dreams will become reality
As man ventures further out, beyond our own galaxy.
Written 30th March 2018.
Miles and miles above our heads,
millions of them, I believe it's said,
way up in the skies, past the moon and stars,
somewhere near Jupiter and nearby Mars,
space rocks, called asteroids,
are hot topics these days.
We'll be "mining the skies," for silver and gold,
and other precious metals, like titanium, I'm told.
During the gold rush days,
remember the stories of the old West?
"There's gold in them thar hills!"
Now the "Gold Rush" is out in space!
And the prize is worth the race.
Space stations are being planned,
the size of Texas, they say.
And machines, like snow blower's,
will suck up the space treasures
of near-earth asteroids,
if the aviator's have their way.
Heaven has gates of pearl and streets of gold
and other treasures we'll someday behold.
But exploring the heavens, we'll continue to do,
because God's riches of creation, are never ending to be found.
And God doesn't make junk. His treasures abound.
.
When I was a kid on the bus,
I looked at all that surrounded us,
out the window I always gazed
seeing old fields, half-trees, half-hay,
beyond them rose a forest wall,
maples and pines, stately and tall,
past that rose a line of low hills,
I could never really get my fill.
My mind imagined trekking there,
discover mysteries if I dare,
what awaited in that country
always had an allure to me.
But as I grew it became clear,
for centuries folks had been here,
the forest and hills were settled long,
to other people they belonged.
‘No Trespassing’ posted everywhere,
made my young mind feel despair,
I thought I was a pioneer,
but my small world had no frontiers.
Of course then I became a teen,
travelled often with a ski team,
to the Catskills, Adirondacks,
upstate New York, it does not lack
wilderness to tempt outdoors souls,
whether summer warm or winter cold
it seemed an endless, vast expanse,
evergreens that held me entranced,
I trampled mountains, ancient stone,
walked America’s rocky bones,
and though it seemed ever empty,
things started to appear to me
that though it was a wild place,
humans had long known this space.
I saw names carved on mountain’s high,
chiseled in eighteen sixty-five!
I trampled down old logging roads
that my great grandpa must’ve known,
though I felt like a pioneer,
this no longer was a frontier.
As an adult it just got worst,
though I traveled and saw the world,
the wild west where cowboys play,
Scottish Highland’s misty days,
northern taiga filled with big bears,
but human sign was everywhere.
No hidden lands, no unknown stretch,
no place for people who feel best
away from laws, rules, and permits,
there’s nowhere left for us hermits.
Some say we’ll find it in the stars,
but the cost of that can stop the heart,
you can’t just walk to Mars freely,
and if you could, you couldn’t breathe.
With nowhere left to roam on Earth,
yet still burned by the wandering urge,
it’s hard for us poor pioneers
stuck on a world with no frontiers.
Space ... the final frontier ...
We all have heard that, but the frontier may be not even There ...
...
The waters on a lake are smooth
When noisy day is out.
When nature's vanity away
Is gone with wind around.
.
When all the lights are turning off.
Sweet silence coming down soft
And calmly whispers that a star
Just dived in lake to light from far.
.
And Universe for just a moment
Reflects in lake, so deep and whole.
Eternity, untill first ripples,
Comes so close to your soul.
.
Full chest of breath seems not enough.
And heart at awe will skip a beat.
Nostalgically, voice from far
Will magically call to stars.
.
Forgetting we will try to touch
And try to hug that silent depth.
But all the dreams will fly in splash
And wise reality hits us.
.
The wisdom often is so harsh,
But always gives us lessons:
Before we conquer space,
We better heal This place.
Another log onto the fire
as they say a prayer
for spring to come.
A warm breeze
coming down the prairie
making the winter
snow disappear.
The snow flows softly
down the brook making all things glow
Animals getting frisky
as a new season arrives.
Trees showing life
after days of ice.
The prairie comes alive
with animals moving to and fro
in the new array
as new wild flowers emerge.
Children all a play
as mom and dad celebrate
the seasons change .
Birds can be heard
looking for a mate
fluttering from tree to tree.
There's a hustle
and bustle
around the home
as the chores
get done.
Grain to come
home
and then to be sold.
A garden to sow
and eggs to sell
as freely live
day to day.
Frontier Man In Blood
Richard Boone,
Relative of Daniel Boone we presume,
Played a frontier man of a later time
Problem solving to earn a dime.
Chic Waco was the marshal of our little town.
Stood near six-two and usually sported a frown.
Never said a lot but what he said, was said mighty clear.
Most likely if he was talking to you, it was something you wasn't wanting to hear.
Chic was a mighty good marshal and did his job the best he could,
There were those that gave him problems and he'd let them know just where
they stood.
This one good for nothing family were as ornery as could be.
When they got to drinking they'd threaten anybody they would see.
That's when Waco usually always earned his keep.
Most times them boys didn't want to go quietly, so Waco would just rap them
on the head, and pile them in a heap.
Them Trusdale boys packed an awful fierce grudge and just wouldn't let it lie.
When they got sobered up they said reckon that marshals just gonna have to
die.
Well they thought and they planned for about a month and a half.
Then the youngest got caught stealing a Circle D calf.
He was brought to town and sentenced to hang.
Word got out ain't no Trusdale, what would ever swing.
They said marshal if you try to hang our little brother Jack.
You just painted a bulls eye on the middle of your back.
Well that didn't set well at all with Waco and he told em flat out don't be a
threatening me.
If your wantin gunplay just whip em on out, then we'll all get to see.
Chic said Trusdales I'm calling your bluff.
He said you're backshootin, yellowbellys, and you ain't got the stuff.
Bout that time the oldest I think they called him Will.
Reached for his iron with intent to kill.
Waco saw him reach and he shot him dead.
Then he felt the bullet that was fired by Will's brother Red.
It didn't do much damage it was fired in haste.
Then Waco pointed at Red and let him have a taste.
The only brother left was a shaking like a dog.
Waco looked at him and said scat on out a here before I unleash this hog.
Little brother Jack they hung him out back.
The one that ran somebody found dead , snakebit outside their old shack.
Reckon that the moral of this story is don't mess with Chic Waco
Reckon them Trusdales hadn't heard in Chics younger days he was known as
Kid Wacko!