Best Shenandoah Poems
His years spanned 1908-1997
reaching the grand age of 89
played many a character in his life
giving each one his special shine
My memories of Jimmy Stewart
goes back many a year for me
'Dear Brigitte' was the first I saw
a lovely film seeing the lovelier BB
Jimmy covered many different parts
of many types he did play
he was so good in westerns
'Winchester 73 and 'Shenandoah' made my day
He loved music also too
played the accordion as well as sing
showed this talent on the screen
'Glenn Miller story' was the real thing
The movie 'What a Wonderful Life'
George Bailey was his most famous role
this was his favourite movie
in it our hearts he stole
'Rear Window' alongside Grace Kelly
was a favourite also for many a fan
but there were so many to highlight
in a life of a ordinary man
James Stewart had a voice like no other
with such a recognisable drawl
it made his appeal so much greater
many great memories we're left to recall
White Lighting Moonshine
drinking 160 proof white lighting moonshine
by the light of the silvery moon
the evening breeze moving through the oak trees
makes me happy
in the Shenandoah Valley
the firelight flickering bright
as my friends and I
tell stories some are true some are a lie
but by and by we enjoy
the way our lives unfolded
in the Shenandoah Valley
we were born and raised here
and here we will die
never been very far away
no good reason to we love it here
in the Shenandoah Valley
we play our guitars and fiddles
singing songs of life and lost loves
as we drink our 160 proof white lighting moonshine
by the light of the silvery moon
in the Shenandoah Valley
Dennis Davis
John Denver Tribute 1-31-25
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Troubadour
Annie’s song rings maroon bells
Sung in gratitude by a country boy
As snowflakes celebrate alpine festivals
Where sunshine dances on shoulders.
Cowboy becomes mountain man
Letting melodies soar
High in the cathedral of the Rockies
Dance with dolphins on lyrical waves
Or serenade Blue Ridge mountains
Strumming lullabies for baby.
Perhaps love tells the story of your passion
For mountains, seas and skies and Shenandoah rivers
That dance in calypso dreams
On feathered beds by country roads
Home again.
Poet and pilgrim –
Troubadour gathering scraps of ordinary
Your melted wings brought you back to earth
Too soon
Leaving your song incomplete
Melodies unsung and rhymes unrhymed.
Starwoods still mourn
Where the eagle and the hawk fly in farewell
On the wings of your dreams
Beneath wild western skies
That echo your poems, prayers and promises.
TRAIN – 1958
On a warm summer evening
at North Philadelphia Station
the 6:19 on track three, the "Spirit
of Saint Louis-Limited" from Penn Station
New York, Newark and Trenton bound for
Thirtieth Street, Paoli, Lancaster, Harrisburg
Altoona, Pittsburgh, Columbus, Cincinnati
Indianapolis and Saint Louis
Twenty cars of elegance named Raritan
Susquehanna, Shenandoah, Delaware…follow
the sleek GG1 that is “Pennsy” power and speed
on the north Jersey flats, the rolling Dutch Country
the Tidewater regions of the Northeast Corridor
prelude to the moaning of the big double diesels in the
cool humid evening pulling silver moon-lit coaches
over the intricate topography of the ridge and valley
province, up the long steep grades, around the narrow
horseshoe curves, through the dark fertile clearings
the dense upland forests, the ancient terrestrial
rhythms of the Allegheny Mountains, and in the
silent midnight hours, falling faster and faster from
the Appalachian Plateau into the shadowed lowlands
of the broad Ohio Country, west through Indiana
a caterpillar of light and noise with a rapid
steel-clad cadence clacking, clicking, roaring through
the dreams of sleeping towns and farms, crossing
gracefully-crafted bridges over black ribbons of
water, and gathering their speed like earth-bound
meteors, drawn by the gravity of the Mississippi
River, greet the pearly gray dawn at a hundred
miles an hour, bursting through the mists with
the early morning sun, their haunting horns
blowing, howling at the crossings on the
Illinois prairie, the great river just ahead
Tonight I’ll lie in bed and listen to the television
next door, to the sirens in the neighborhood nearby,
but the rhythm of my thoughts will be rocking me
to sleep on the bright city of the night, hurtling
towards the west, opening up the continent to a
boy’s imagination and to railroad
station dreams
I knew you were a big boy,
right from the start.
I took you home,and into
my heart.
You kept all the dogs,out
of my yard.
Being on a chain,must
have been hard.
You were so loveable,
and oh so strong.
I couldn't hold you up,
for very long.
I named you after,Sly
Stallone.
The muscles you had,
were as tough as stone.
I didn't want to, let
you go.
Because,in my heart,
I loved you so.
I took you to the Shenandoah
vet,Because you were our
loving pet.
I looked for a way,
to keep you alive,but
the vet said,you would
never survive.
So,we had to put
you to sleep.
Our love for you,will
be forever deep.
In heaven now,you
will stay.
We'll bow our heads,
and begin to pray.
I hope you know,
we'll miss you Sly.
We did not want,
to say good-bye.
I tried to write a song like John Denver would have done
Thought the way to do it was to emulate each one
Went to Colorado for a Rocky Mountain High
Found heaven near Shenandoah, but inspiration still not nigh.
Left my wife on a jet plane, didn't tell her what for
She would have disapproved, said get a job, what a bore.
In Wyoming, I camped under the moon
I tried to compose, but didn't like the tune
[chorus]
Channeling Denver, songwriter to emulate
I had the acoustic guitar, just couldn't be great
Searching for lyrics in that mountain space
Found peace, but no words in that quiet place
South wind blew in that East Texas town
Had a momentary idea, but couldn't write it down
At wits end, followed a country road home
disheartened, halfway, I sat on a stone.
I thought of John Denver's last flight, his plane fell to the sea
A tragic snapshot of that image before eternity
Remembered his song about his old guitar
In the music pantheon, I hope forever a star
[outro]
I gave up on the lyric, felt writer's block
Did I have anything worth saying? Tried to take stock
Then looked into my past, found what I had sought
A melody of my own, unpretentious and taut
But don't misunderstand, don't get me wrong
I'll can't wait to see the Wrangell mountains and play a John Denver song.
Do clouds rapidly flee chased by icy gulls?
Is something more horrifying about to happen?
A frightening squall is descending to Earth,
the airways are free of fowls and raptors,
mothers rescue their kids from the captor,
their safety is a ritual since the dawn of Man;
shivering and unprotected is that grizzly bear
climbing the redwood tree for his cubs' mirth!
Sand and soil become a huge cloud,
concealing from burning eyes a revelation
that Nostradamus has brought to our attention,
it's more gruesome than a biblical event;
will flood submerge all in deep water...
as people scream and envoke God to stop Goliath,
reminding Him the promise He made to Noah!
There's no arch insight, no captain aboard,
the murky waters are still rising and frighten;
what went wrong is unjustified human error,
why are we punished by Man, not by God?
They are destroying our joy, our livelihood,
the wilderness of harmonious Shenandoah
and the meadows of daffodils about to sprout!
I took my bike on Amtrak, got off at Charlottesville.
Climbed up to the Blue Ridge parkway, the first of many a hill.
I met a Canadian Carpenter as I got closer to N.C.
He was cycling alone; his wife would meet him in Miami.
We shared some jokes and when food ran low
resupplied at the green valley of Shenandoah.
The Laurel by the road is pink and white in spring
But late fall had its charm as well, a bike ride for a king.
The carpenter told me that I biked too long
He was right: I gave out, it was he who was strong.
He kept riding south but not with me.
I turned back just 60 miles from the town of Cherokee.
All I really needed was a day or two to rest
But a foolish reflex made me give up the quest
I had told him I had to get back, which was a lie
He shook my hand; one last wisecrack and we said goodbye.
I got home and there was a letter waiting for me:
the Carpenter praised to the sky the stretch to Cherokee.
Sometimes clear, sometimes fog, on the ridgeline high,
Blue smoky mists blended mountains with the sky.
The road climbs above 6000 feet, there's red spruce and pine:
He said I had to go someday, the views were so sublime
But there were too few blocks of time when I was free
And for those times, storms raged above the land of the Cherokee.
Then dad got cancer, and mom got cancer too
Brothers sometimes shared the load, but the years still flew.
But I'm hoping that there is an opening yet
that I can reverse this particular regret
I'll tear the veil, warp time's bridge
And make my way to that lost Blue Ridge.
But you never know, you can't open every door
There are portents on every scale, and I'm afraid of what's in store.
There I was paddling my vessel
Beneath the daughter of the stars
In the canoe capital of Virginia
Eyes void of that light that brings
The villagers about the fire at the
Crisp of winter pending
Sustained winds from the front
My caution about the unknown
Touched every tree along the bank,
Rock-root and ripple on route
When from the shallows of the
Perpetual flow rose the Siren
Her beauty mirrored by water's
Inescapable reflection
Her words she chose carefully
As she sung
Her light entered the eyes of the
Floating traveler for those to see
They became the fire that gives
Thine countryman warmth
With the winds now favorable
At their backs, the course
Was now set by the
Goddess of the Shenandoah
The river gently flew into the
Sturdy arms of the giving tree
Of which was in full fruit
The shade remained on the two
As love grew
NATURAL BRIDGE
Saturday morning in Lynchburg, Virginia I headed
to Natural Bridge, a natural arch considered as one
of natural wonders and a National Historic Landmark.
It is a limestone gorge or horizontal limestone strata,
the remains of the roof of a cave or tunnel through
which the Cedar Creek once flowed and the eroding
effects of wind and water and one of the greatest
natural treasures with the backdrop of Blue Ridge
Mountains, showcasing nature’s splendor of beautiful
forests and open, rolling meadows of Shenandoah Valley.
3/6/22 Form I - Imagism - New Poem Poetry
Constance La France
Used: PS Grammar Check
Mervin's room via Jackson Hewitt, Lake Huron
My dear Nay few!
My dear shenanigan floating near Shenandoah
Let us make a trip itinerary around the upcoming December
For the longest word where she sang for long, so long
Even a patsy like me denied the intervention
Not to repeat the Meriam , as they sung , unsung, a faded croon
For years too long enduring a morning, a bay boon.
Bonjour!
October 26, 2024
Shanandoah is a place poem.
December is a month
Meriam is a Thesaurus pal
Before the L section in Babylon
Please watch out after twenty past chapter four!
Oracle, are you impeccably manual?
Not lost, but merely seek,
knowledge and understanding.
Both of the natural world and
my mind’s space and time.
What insignificant thoughts will
push worries away,
occupying that space,
and consuming the time?
On these cloudy rainy days
the melancholy thoughts,
come playing peacefully, like
raindrops slowly falling.
The deer appear often at the edge
of the woods, testing things.
Full knowledge of watching eyes,
understanding no threat here.
The damp and green of summer
showers seem endless.
The hard rain satisfying the thirst
of both foliage and beast.
The young black bear scurries
across the road and into the lush,
vanishing into August’s green
and vast wet forest.
As the rain continues to fall,
the wipers moving back n forth,
out the window,
the birds bath and squirrels play.
The radio sings softly,
music from many years past,
no bad news of politics or wars,
rather lyrics for days like these.
From this rainy mountain top
peering down at the
Shenandoah valley below,
the world seems at peace.
This road of life, so similar to
this winding mountain parkway,
which today I travel,
content yet longing.
My baby died this
morning.
It happened so fast,
without any warning.
Mugsy woke us up,and
we found you on the floor.
You wouldn't even get up,
and come out the door.
We rushed you to the
Shenandoah Vet.
So gentle,were we,to
our pet.
We left her there,for
Doc to fix.
Before we left town,
we got no more licks.
She was my baby,cant
you see.
Why Lord,why did you
take her from me?
It was so hard,to dress you,
in your sweater.
But, I know you're going
to someplace better.
I sure will miss our
watching"Bad Boys"
together.
I will dread the winter,
and all the bad weather.
No longer will you live,
in bogus land.
God will now hold you in his hand.
Mugsy will no longer plow
a path for you.
She sits, by the back door,
and waits for you.
No longer will you come
through that door.
But, Mugsy will sit there,
and wait some more.
You were like a child
to me.
But God said;I had to
let you go,and set you free.
We loved you so much,
and you were so soft,to
the touch.
You were so sweet,and
fast on your feet.
We are so close,but yet,
so far apart.
You'll always be,right here,
next to my heart.
(amar sakal dukher pradip)
Thistle Thal, My reverie floral, beyond the valley and greenery, handheld delight, the sun
Incomplete ritualistic my pain, meditation to be fulfilled in completion
Whence the day is done and the returning birds are back to the nest, very own.Bestowed
Dusk of the twilight hue heard the bell, still afterglow dispersing the beset, even though
Then my last log will be my solitary feast, the fire of the divine, my life
A festive fire will have my pliant knead, and a plethora of my remnants chime!
.Shinangan through shenandoah , knew us through delighted knickknack, canopy
The fullest brim is tossing and turning to greet you whence wilmette, wills met a noon
The festive fire will lit up starlight one by one , aurora borealis, the kindled and the boon
They’all a rise together to the superlative, in chorus, a hymn, on the eve, beseeching
The flight of a song , the sunset, and the reason, and the resilient passion of yearning !
Between Blue Ridge Mountains and Chesapeake Bay
Almost eight and a half million people here do sashay,
One of the original colonies, back in the settlers’ day,
Part of the American Revolution, Virginia was, in a big way.
Pony Express Riders did not stop to eat much or play.
They traveled quickly, then scooted just as quickly away.
Presidents grew up here – four out of the first five, anyway.
Virginia houses the Pentagon, a formidable building in every way.
The mountains are beautiful. Their smoky secrets squirreled away.
The waters are cool and clean – Potomac and Chesapeake Bay.
We love our trip to Virginia, have to stay much more than one day.
In the evening we can find Shenandoah Salamander, if we choose to stay.
King Dominion’s Amusement Park advocated for children in a big way.
They determine when school can open, and it is not before Labor Day.
Virginia is full of politicians, and each thinks they must have their say.
Have some peanuts, made popular by soldiers back in the Civil War day.
Come in the autumn when the leaves are golden and the squirrels play.
Or in the winter when the Christmas shops are alive and dancing in full sway.
Virginia is expensive, but you can eat the homemade fudge down Richmond way.
Just come on over and have a good time. We guarantee that you’ll sashay.