Best Frontiers Poems
I hold three magic rocks, in my hand
Rolling them over and over and over
Leaving this reality behind, far behind.
Unknown horizons beckon,
Logic defying adventures await.
With one final gaze
Toward my unknown destination,
On a quest to find my father.
Mom said he left before I was born.
He won’t be hard to find,
‘Cause she said I look just like him,
But I hold the key of returning.
The ball of yarn he should have used,
To find his way, back to us...
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For Constance's 'A Magical Journey' Contest
To see through eyes of a child
is to be a pioneer...
and each new God-given thing
a discovery
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1/15/16 Syllables of Wisdom 2 Contest: Sponsored by Silent One
There are things in life that we understand
With our limited human insight
In time, our knowledge range may expand
And things, once obscure, may then come to light
Yet, this may point to other things obscure
Which our prior knowledge could not show
It seems that in the quest to discover
The more we find out, the less we know
Knowledge of things that seem mysterious
Also beyond human comprehension
Perhaps can only be made known to us
Through an act of direct intuition
Such things may possess a special beauty
That lies hidden within their very core
The unravelling of their secret mystery
May help us to understand Nature more
Things that are impenetrable to us
Have a most radiant beauty of their own
So said Albert Einstein, the genius
The greatest scientist the world has known
(To know that which is impenetrable to us, really exists, manifesting itself as the highest wisdom and the most radiant beauty – Albert Einstein)
7/20/2015
Crystal snowflaked peaks,
kaleidoscoped blue heavens,
majestic purples
deep, dark, cold caverns,
mingled green trees, gold landscapes,
indigo raptures,
clouds of white angels,
refreshing white waterfalls,
cold ice palaces,
slick, green, mossy slopes,
yellow flowers in green fields
ALL BECKONING COME!
By Marty Owens 7/06/12 for Mountain contest
**NOTE***
I need to explain that this is not your typical Haiku ...all verses are describing and leading up to the last line where the Mountains are beckoning everyone to come. Thanks
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.
Everyday another moment wakes me.
My love hunts like a wildebeest around rusty corners
Craving lost memories.
I am the coward and the hero.
You are the wizard and the one and only angel.
We will traverse this corrugated truth,
Gliding upon our own wits,
Feeling our elbows milk into singularity.
And all this on the same day flowers
Uproot themselves
And go door-to-door
Knock-knock-knocking.
And then my wife comes in.
We talk and laugh and whatnot in tired waves.
And I re-read everything before she entered my soul
And it’s all rubbish.
I never went on that frontier.
With mental acuity to be aware
Forgone the beauty of your looks
A daring life ahead you fare
But nothing you could find in books.
Blush I will abide, active and aware
Even if life seems long and bare.
At last inside my ears a golden call
To know no darkness forever to fall
Your thoughts so active every day
To plow and crop amongst the fields
And fall and rise in every way
In daylight you won't always yield.
Long and hard your thoughts arise
And play a part within my eyes.
8/29/2015
“If looks could kill they probably will
in games without frontiers,
war without tears”
Let go of his hand,
He is on his way
In search of a New Frontier.
Watch for his footprints there in the sand,
And wave as he passes near.
His years on earth
Were long and fruitful,
He did what he set out to do.
He married Claire, who was there by his side,
To help make his dreams come true.
Ranching was his way of life,
His family was always near.
When he retired
He was still at hand,
If problems should appear.
Children, grandchildren,
And great-grandchildren too,
Wave as he passes by.
But look real close, at the footprints in the sand,
For another set you'll find.
I can not nelp but wonder,
As soft as the clouds must be,
Will their footprints show up
As they do in earth's sand,
For all of us to see?
His spirit is still here
In the Sand Hills of Nebraska,
On the old ONE HUNDRED and ONE,
Four generations have known God's blessings
With His help they will go on.
When we arrive in that New Frontier,
Don will be there to show us the way.
Until we do, a word of advice,
Let the footprints he leaves, there in the sand,
Guide you day by day.
Cile Beer
written 2005
I spit on the sermons of slaver prophets.
Their prayers fed the whips that tore my ancestors’ flesh.
They built cathedrals with the blood of captives,
And sanctified pain in the name of a carnivorous God.
I am the heir of the tormented of Gorée,
The cursed child of plantations watered with tears.
I have not forgotten the slave ships,
Nor the papal blessings that celebrated chained flesh.
They call me barbarian because I refuse their pardon,
Yet their libraries reek of the lies of civilization.
I have no need for their counterfeit paradise,
Their heavens are slave markets painted blue.
I stand upright like the brave rebels of Haiti,
Torn from the entrails of the earth by the wrath of volcanoes.
I speak with the broken jaws of my forefathers,
And I write with the black ink of smothered genocides.
Their flags are cloths stained with blood,
Their laws, chains polished by diplomacy.
They claim to distribute freedom,
But their satanic philanthropy cultivates misery as an eternal rent.
I have no god to crown my wounds.
My faith is the scar tattooed on my forehead.
I have no temple to prostitute my soul,
My truth feeds on the rage of the damned.
Let them keep calling me a wicked *****,
I will turn that insult into a scepter.
I have no need for their recognition,
For my dignity is not for sale.
I live in this world fractured by their bombs,
Yet my conscience remains undefeated.
A people does not die when it chooses to remember,
And my memory is a weapon loaded blank against their idols.
New Frontiers
8/14/2015
If new frontiers are what you seek
Are a TV freak or computer geek
Just look outside and there will be
New frontiers for you to see
There is a world not on flat screen
Not make believe on TV seen
It's waiting there you should partake
Just leave your house for goodness sake
The Homeless hungry you could aid
They will not bite don't be afraid
Talk to them and lend an ear
Cross into this new frontier
Another frontier you might try
Is to look your neighbors in the eye
Shake their hands and say hello
Might be someone you'd like to know
Imagine other new frontiers
That you might find throughout the years
These parting words I have to say
Technology's not the only way
First he went into the Ukraine as there he'd remain
This man being so vain grown from a separate grain
Now he's in the Middle East and arguing with the U.S.
Trouble to say the least, for it has become a big mess
Now there have been threats, deals have been broken
And even still Obama lets, barely a word ever spoken
He was out on the golf course while Putin was moving
Setting about his Trojan horse to Obama's disapproving
But now here we are as a hungry Putin seeks to devour
How quickly we've come so far with this shift in power
The U.S. no longer in the lead in so being pushed aside
For the things you now concede many others have died
Not being here anymore but now that spirit's departed
A long unsettled score with a people now disheartened
As there he sits and waits but he won't wait very long
Holding all of our fates, the beginning of what's wrong
Only Prayer is powerful enough to change this World!
For by not praying is how we got in this predicament.
Frontiers are unlimited. Some are physical, others are mental.
Sometimes, you limit yourself with your mind.
Barriers only exist if you think in their existence.
Unleash all the potential you had hidden for many years.
Dare to try new things you had never tried before.
Renew the old concepts and beliefs that actually are not useful.
Expand your knowledge with good books and music.
Nurture your mind and spirit. You would become a better person.
Develop a positive mind set frame with good thoughts.
Conquer your fears. Fear is the opposite of love.
When you love yourself, your life begins to change.
A new you would be the result of this transformation.
8/17/2015
Twelve Place
Screwed VI poem contest
The sun beats mercilessly.
A coastline invites the violence
of the great lake.
A sinking feeling of a boat. The battle
of tides and limbs. You can see
the colors, the dragons
flying. The blasted sky
and blackened clouds. A shriek
sets the lake on fire, as the dusk sets in.
A tribal instinct to burn
the fences, set the horizons
free for a new comet, landing from
unknown space. You want to touch
the lips of a mute, blotted moon.
Fireflies start dotting the night.
You move inward; find a dark
niche to graze the wounds. The hurt
brings the words. You pick up an
axe and start chopping
the dead wood.
Satish Verma
For years our ancestors built a wall
they thought would protect us from a Fall
that would hurt our future and generations,
but it was the opposite. Nations fought nations,
for they were divided in culture and religions.
Let's all throw away our past
and re-build a divine present
where everyone is part
of the Divine testament.
Date: 12/08/2015