Best Neolithic Poems
Wiltshire is a lovely place too be
A county with plenty of history
Neolithic rocks from north to south
You can even see a white horses mouth
With walks over undulating ground
Find the mystery of the giants mound
You can see where the soldiers train
On the expansive Salisbury Plain
With white horses carved into the hill
Walk around them enjoy the thrill
If you are not able to do the walks
Visit the heritage centers hear the talks
But if all else fails jump into the car
You can easily see them from afar
No queuing required and it's free
Come to Wiltshire and you will see
Stonehenge, Avebury stones too name but afew
I guarantee you will go phew
Ingenuity of the people before
Its amazing, it will not bore
Moving those rocks that weigh a tonne
Without machinery just father and son
Carving horses into those chalky hills
Showing us, all thier artistic skills
So visit Wiltshire and see these sights
Plenty to do from morning to night
Let the country air cover your face
Do this slowly it's not a race
Enjoy your trip to this county
Paradise Yes without the bounty
Meet the locals and have a chat
Enjoy a cider you can't beat that
It was never exactly pinpointed
for only the African Crowned Eagles knew of the twisting paths
to its misplaced place.
In that crystalline chamber, upon that gold dusted floor
were found much thumbed volumes of all Nietzsche’s
works,
a penguin in a glass bell,
a twig cut from the tree of Life one million years from now'
A windblown leaf but only the wind that blew it.
a silver cuspidor, a ancient helmet made of Pittsburgh steel,
a Neolithic moonshine still,
a copy of the illustrated Karma Sutra,
several debunked words of wisdom from Aristotle,
an Olmec Letter Opener.
and a stuffed tufted rat.
The find has been carefully transported to the Smithsonian
where neuroscientists are trying
to solder together all these missing links.
The NYT has declared these odd finds
to be ‘Russian disinformation,’
but ‘Bokonon’ the mythical poet-sage of the Republic
of Never-Never Land
has blessed each artifact and declared them
to be far too strange not to be absolutely true.
Autumn clouds drift over the Wenatchee River
Changing from blue to a metallic silver
I walk it's shores as the greying breaks
As it captures ochres and greens in reflection shapes
Translucent ripples in undulation dance
Insects skim the waves with their life they chance
Trout break the surface to share my view
If I am the first man to be here, what a debut
Ancient rock from a long ago past
Scatters it's slopes in sporadic cast
Stones and boulders of all shapes in sizes
Carpet this podium like neolithic prizes
I go back to my canoe, the way out I came in
A Scotsman leaves humbled in his skeletal skin
To be here for this moment brings a tear to my eye
As I turn my head and look back, reminds me why
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/america-2.php
I did not think you knew what an azimuth was, I said to Guy.
“I am not a Neolithic,” he told me with a sniff, I know why…
Some people misjudge this brilliant child of two months past twelve.
His mind goes where others have never had the chance to delve.
What do you use it for? I asked, testing him just a bit.
“to install satellite dishes,” he said. He is a precocious little chit.
We were at the Wambuul river where the Casuarina trees grow.
Not an elegant place, but it suited us down to each toe.
Guy suggested knapping a bit of flint while we were here.
I had some of my tools so I said “of course, why not? where?”
His mind was lightyears away, for he had his brain in a book.
Reading about quasars, for his mind grabs knowledge like a hook.
Spring comes
Quietly--
Not with the bleating of lambs or
The tweeting of birds or the
Beating of butterfly wings
Spring comes
Silently--
Celtic through the Neolithic stones,
Unheralded by peering shadow-seekers
Rummaging around on the Second of
February, and unannounced by a
Banner on the front page of the
National Enquirer…
Unpresaged by pregnant April
Showers,
Spring comes--
Alive
Nota bene: This is one of the few pieces of juvenilia I have preserved. It was written when I was at college (the University of Florida), in 1979, when I was in the English Department High Honors Seminar. We had an assignment to write a poem about Spring, but to try not to fall into the usual cliches. I thought it might be fun to mention some of those cliches ironically. We had one-on-one tutorials with a number of well-known novelists and poets; one of mine was with the poet Richard Eberhart. He told me he liked this poem and that it was a good one, so I have kept it these four decades.
waved away from certain topics
Yolanda and her Singing Saw blade
captured the intellectual integrity
of a generation in readjustment
freedom springs only from freedom kids
so lock your shields and set your pikes
and whatever else unmasks the poseurs
making mischief upon civilization
with zero police penetration
weighed and calibrated by the
by the US Bureau of Insanity
warned by the masked men at Masked Men U.
we'll find out if your daddy raised a fool
putting on a carefree face
clinging to childhood like a lost puppy
once again it's political suicide everywhere
the archetypes are tramping
through my head like Hitlerjugen
convulsed in the Little Death championship
strutting and hooting for a mate
will today's monster be tomorrow's arbiter of grace
Godzilla was eventually tamed was he not
he now does handyman work
and can come around some time
and get that squeak out of your door
that feudal ignorance and superstition
start with whatever impedes your mind
laughter will watch your back
cognition is a word game
rally and carry the colors with insolence
like a glowing catalytic converter
streaking across the endless night
distant from instinct like a horizon
illuminating a physics of the psyche
alive with maladapted ardor
like a dynasty of serial plagiarists
what then exactly is attention
news flash we are way past neolithic
up where the power meets the grid
if your point of observation is outlawed
only the involuntary spasms will remain
and a persistent mania for theology
to be dissected like laboratory toads
and poked with battery wires
where pickpockets with scissors
leave your pants a bit breezy
while clicking the mouse button of God
in a well orchestrated decoy fiasco
a talent show for the inept
tonight we have a knockout lineup
with lots of orange explosions
horrendous vs. hellacious
mastodon hair from the freezer
slapped on the bald spots
by a rapidly wilting imagination
strumming its ukelele in a hammock
burnt to a crisp in a flaming car wash
his soul finally attained its freedom
such as it was soot and ashes by then
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
From Mastadonian timelessness
Thru Neolithic mankindliness
Past icy agey instances
Cave-ember dream sequences
Animal carcass sustenances
Tribal ritual religiousness
Guttural language utterances
Savage native dominances
Eking marginal existences
Toward era-ending extinguishes
To Nomadic brutal homelessness
Under cracking cultural bridginess
Under societal forgetfulness
Under Military expansiveness
Governmental negligences
A congenital hopelessness
Constitutional vagariousness
Evolutionary pervasiveness
Solitary survivalness
That’s my piece of boniness
My tent reeks of holiness
On the edge of precariousness...
Bagpipes in short high sounding squeals
that loudly play to the ears appeal
some haunting distant melodic foreboding malaise,
stretching across an isle of green-blue ways,
freed open and gingerly
along the lochs and rivers Clyde, Tay, Tweed, and Dee;
a glistening jewel of history unshelved
with ghosts, monsters, fairies, and elves
upon the southern shore of the Bay o' Skaill swells,
over the West Mainland parish of Sandwick's silent bells,
the Neolithic village of Skara Brae - indelible granite white
Orkney's most-visited ancient relic sites;
islands set apart where the Scottish bagpipes sing
of the clan's immortal heart on the wing;
the lull and lore of older memories fades and wilts
like colors sewn within the Tartan kilts
Glasgow and Edinburgh ring truly filled
as kilts swing in the whistling wind unstilled,
"We’re a’ Jock Tamson’s bairns!"
cries aloud in wails and shrills of Scottish yarns;
come ye rustic castles and pastorals
listen to the swish and swirls, legends rural,
in the rush of bagpipes and flaring kilts
along the cobblestones of Donegal dark silt
and all the island shores gleaned
greetings from the Scottish lore imaginings.
Julia Ward's contest
Theme of Scotland
3/17/21
Bendy old whales taste like snails doing a backflip. But swarms of over eighty nine peonies are closely followed by nine bulls, an elephant tribe, a beetle colony and a party of laughing butterflies. Whose aerial display party was angled to the left in the sky with a north easterly breeze catching the cute curtains and shifting the might of the beasts in airborne state. Like undulating flights of the uniquely formed umbrellas. With wingspans measuring over two thousand kilometers. And kilometres are neither kale nor kaleidoscopic kitchens. So watch out for the breeze block ballet which often entertains sand at high tide. But disposable barbecues can be used as a hang glider if sufficient cello tape is applied to fix the wings. And the throttle can only ever be made by a six foot horn of a walrus. Stifle no swamp who is attempting a speech. And speeches by swamps are very very important. They tell the people not to drop nail polish in bowls for the bowls can get upset and cry which then causes creaky creamy bowmen to sink apples and donut cakes with piercing shots. Such a playful pudding is playing pivotal ping pong in a very talented way. It really is quite acrobatic you see. And a maze on a plate can only ever be cleared with a salt shaker and a hooded pepper grinder whose antics in the woods please the woodpeckers who have a six hour break from peck peck peck to watch the scenes in bemused contemplations. So the little pretty whale is in a flowery dress today. Good. That will please Mr shark whose love of female forms could stem from a wild neolithic neem but not a norm. Really not. Chasing skirts round and around. Wow. Interesting isn't it? And a foregone conclusion is skin to a fox falling over a peanut while a crispy wafer laughs. Hahaha drooling drive deciphering dreams. Hahaha mist in a bath of gravy. Xxxxx tyrannosaurus training teacups. Xxxxx organizationally z z z z z z z at a left over left-handed angle of a righteous right-handed rigmarole rink. Z 46% plus 293 degrees is a delightful sunbathing pan of whipped cream. Z z z z
Riotous revellers' laughter drifts up from their apricot lit late night haunts, four cafes are notoriously avoided venues for overindulgent consumption of alcohol.
Across the street, from my thirtieth floor apartment window, remote portrait of bodies bent enthralled over their beers,
toads on stools at mushroom stem tables.
Flicker of forbidden recognition crosses my cortex,
- I'm a resident of Broadwater Tower now.
Unstated policy prohibits proximity with riff raff.
Our bar ensures we wear careful attire,
floor gleams mirror marble.
Chrome and cracked leather oud absorbs expensive scents.
Ladies laughter upscale conflicts the low fading mens' vocal.
Tipsy sensation enhanced by deck docked
rolling prestigious flagpole chiming yachts.
Over the road, neolithic neon signs post grotesque cafe names,
Salivate, Green Grotto among them.
Customers come from squat squashed suburbs,
five minute drive away.
Dive bar dark sparks alcoholic amphibians unremarkable bravado.
January holiday season sees sardines huddled heartily under awnings, abandoning next morning necessity.
24th February 2023
151 words
Written for Contest: Four Cafes
Sponsor: Julia Ward
People Not Prolific During Neolithic
With some subjects can be able to concur
Then regarding others may not be so sure
For instance human and world development
And why from God all of this had been sent.
For our creation what was it God had in mind
If we did it would be like blind leading the blind
Maybe in the Bible there is much more to obtain
Without and Abel could there have been a Cain?
Of course, at times, we must start to realize
After tries and tries by us may be a surprise
As information grows that we collect and garner
About agricultural activity and life of a farmer.
People were never prolific during Neolithic
Times as well as period which was Paleolithic
Would people prefer to be called Cro-Magnon
Or perhaps Australopithecus and on and on.
Paying a tribute to current events of the day
We are all here still wondering which way
How each of existences eventually arrived
And though all the ages we still survived.
I just woke up at two in the morning after
I had dreamed about writing this poem.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
RiverSea Plantation
Bolivia, NC
Within this world I live, is ascertain destruction of humankind.
The crystal ball has reveal to me a blaze in time.
The strongest man will not overcome.
The world is within a universe he formed.
The abyss is a cist a chamber that destroys.
Neolithic buildings are built for burial, the tombs surrounds.
Our life is afflicted by what we see.
Gorged to not scream
Productive is the ravine.
Waters - those jet streams possesses the body with such gift, is seen inside.
While eyes look through the washout, the smile does not shine.
The eyes become black on The Street of Catiline.
This time is over now.
The truth has transgressed.
The house, the phones, the batteries are all disable.
Yet man with all his might will not let go of yesterday.
______________________________________|
Penned on May 12, 2014!
Worn down by migration's perils;
Worn down by Neolithic spears -
They survived.
Though sabre-tooth gnashings stayed them;
Though Dire-wolves pack-savaged them -
They survived, they survived.
Though pursued by pharaohs for sport;
Though hannibalised by the armies of Zama -
They survived.
Through the ravaging of ivory coffles;
Through Tippu Tib's and Karamoja's lustings -
They survived, they survived.
Through Mutesa's and Lobengula's slayings;
Through the fauna annihilation of the Boers -
They survived.
Through King Leopold's bloody harvests;
Through trophy accumulators on safaris -
They survived, they survived.
Civilization had not yet flickered;
Its embers may have long faded -
They survive.
One thing to learn from them:
Inoffensive sagacity -
They survive, they survive, they survive.
Note 1: this is an imitation of the format of a beautiful poem “Trees” by Ondra Lysohorsky
Note 2: Tippu Tib, Karamoja Bell, Mutesa and Lobengula were all involved in the nineteenth century ivory trade.
Beneath the golden sunset two lovers watch the skies.
Embraces race straight to the heart where true love lay.
Arise, oh, soul and sing; great joy brings this surprise.
“Charming,” held me on the beach; my prince passed life's way.
Hopefulness bequeathed sweet tears to delighted dreamy eyes.
Beneath the night-lights in the sky, a million twinkles sparked.
Loneliness was chased away; sorrows succumbed to daze.
Alluring dreams and tenderness anticipated; trust embarked.
Neolithic passion paved the way into my heart, oh, happy days.
Kisses and caresses tattooed two souls with love's eternal mark.
Everlastingly life, now shared, grows, friendship still ablaze.
Together, walking winding roads through hardships and fairways.
Before the sunrise burst the dream, blankets blew in sand.
Interspersed reality saw tomorrow amid floating clouds.
Nonetheless, a princess dreamed; her prince led her by the hand.
Great, now, is the memory of an envisioned certainty.
Optimisms saved the day when “Happily-ever-after” came my way.
© July 4, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for: "BEACH BLANKET BINGO"
Sponsored by: Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of P.S.
Along the memory lane,
Walking, Neolithic Mesopotamians!
A potter pioneering the first wheel stone,
The wooden wheels under the chariots rolling down!
The Wheel rolling up and down endorsing circle of life!
Accelerating the pace time to time!
The invention of wheel,
An innovation of mobility,
Like the planets,
Computer disk on desk,
The plastic wheel of IT era,
A solar symbol rotating technology!
Wheel,
The wisdom of all time in the direction of civilization,
Simply from minds of Neolithic men,
Wheel,a vehicle,
Travelled from the forgotten Mesopotamia-
A village deemed of Globe,
To the unseen Global village,
An adventure to reach any time,any where!
Wheel,
Took the burden of feet to it's shoulders,
If not wheels,
Wings,the answer is the question!
Where?
Digging the layers of layers of wounded Mesopotamian soil,
Tracing the resting soul,
The pioneering potter,
To offer his long pending royalty!