Best Rutted Poems

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...

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Along the road called forestry, the silver ash weeps over me
as I meander 'round the dell and glade.
Pass scars of sand pits long disused, where gullies, washes speak ‘abused!’
Reclamation offers now a new facade.

Need for powers cut an ugly door. The pylon gash is just...

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Upon this yearly powdered dale,
where leafless birch in talon-ed stance
come begging in their circumstance,

the snowflakes fell in silent veil 
as thick as densely woven cloth
to gale a new year's behemoth.

While seeking warmth to no avail
I hunker in my hiemal sleigh
when through the rime in gleeful...

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On a walk after the worst of the Sandy storm
I slogged down the still dampening
Green grass valley rutted between
The moldering fences of the shadowed alley. 
 
Under the low, ominously rushing, soggy gray clouds
I saw so many black birds silently
Clinging against the stiff breezes
To the...

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Wearily I walk this rutted road
Knowing this life led yet is mine
Due is all ransoms for my soul
To every witness I leave behind
Lift my heart to spare no love
To be a light for shadows cast
I draw my strength from God above
With hope that seeks the...

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Old men in blue jeans

Dungarees – that’s what they were called,
heavy, blue denim, metal button fly -
form that followed function.  The “cuffs” were
rolled up because inseam sizing and “pre-worn”
softened and frayed only occurred if you got
them from an older sibling.

Time has a way of...

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Walking from the field, snow heavy on my boots,

the sound of water whispers beneath the thawing blanket

so tenaciously clinging to fertile mother earth.

Ancient furrows of past season's hope

plow through frozen dirt,

the veins that now flow gently

with blood of red clay and dark soil.

Patches of green...

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I saw an old wagon wheel in the antique store the other day.
What type of vehicle it must have conveyed, I couldn't really say,
But I let my imagination roam as I studied the old wheel,
And pondered its odyssey and what secrets it might reveal.

Its iron...

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Posting early on a dozing suburban 
hill
Mays warming morning rises and 
Gently wakes.
The dewy hares move through the
Earthy till,
Small dry twigs the nesting pigeons
take.

Blue-high sky clear as an Ocean
Layers the heat upon red brick 
streets;
Roads built over stubbled tracts
Deeply rutted from the ploughs
devotion,
Where once great...

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alone he stands behind the plow
in footrace with the lengthened dawn
a shadow figure in the now

pursues the where and when and how
of unseen reins so slowly drawn
alone he stands behind the plow

each furrow’s end a prayerful bow
an homage paid – dark soil turned fawn
a shadow...

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Beneath a misty veil of ‘Euphoria’ by Calvin Klein, she dares to dream of acceptance in a world of wanna-be Literary Giants who are members of an elite writer’s group, as she drives along a winding road studded with potholes smaller than most of the...

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I know of a river of more than average 
Sorts...
Meandering, when not dallying to maunder,
Between many differing contours 
And unruly contorts;
Where a privileged youth once
Happily sought -
Pursuing about his passions
In the traditional methods 
By which his better elders
Did most insist he was thereby taught.
Reinforced throughout...

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My avaricious appetite for life,
  Provides the fuel to ramble ,
     Through this ripened world I roam.
           I'm driven by unrelenting hunger.

        ...

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Not a flag was unfurled,
and no cornet trilled,
as the rain-swollen clouds,
the bleak valley filled.
 
The wind blowing cold
with a chill that pervades
as the caisson's old wheels
creaked through the glades
 
where leafless Live Oaks
their limbs upward bent
as if to acknowledge
the young soldier’s lament.
 
A tousled lone...

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Memory is my fading friend
of millennial days transpired—
faithful scribe and guardian
who measured mercy and intent
and gauged love’s joyful glint—
yet never turned from rutted path
when sorrow’s specter, tinged
in mottled shades of gray and black,
sought only to inveigh.

Dissembled memories puzzle,
viewed dimly from afar—
where motes of recollection dust
swirl...

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