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...

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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...

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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...

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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....

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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My avaricious appetite for life,
  Provides the fuel to ramble ,
     Through this ripened world I roam.
   ...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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