Best Single File Poems
When doves on evenings, calm and still, call out a hollow tone,
They rouse a medley, old as time, so few have ever known.
The whispered lines of its refrains resound of yesterday,
In ancient tales and bygone trails that man cannot portray.
I’ve rode and worked along a trail throughout my many years.
I’ve heard the tales the sages tell of raging Longhorn steers,
Of soldiers marching single file or mounted days on end,
Of Indians, conquistadors and Rangers tracking men.
Mackenzie Trail is not well known for time obscures its fame,
But high regard is placed on it by those who know its name.
Its story’s scribed in black and white, its remnants etched in stone,
Its way was marked by sweat and blood, by grave and bleaching bone.
The broad frontier that it traversed had yet to be surveyed
And danger seemed to lie in wait at every turn and grade.
From Fort Clark Springs to forts on north, it led Mackenzie’s men
To risk their lives out on the trail, then brought them home again.
A mound lies near Mackenzie Lake, where horse thieves met despair,
For Rangers tracked their hurried trail and hung them then and there.
And near a barn not far away, in Live Oaks’ blissful shade,
The remnants of a camp still lie where soldiers often laid.
I’ve rode the trail and damned the rock that cost my horse a shoe.
I’ve crossed its draws that filled with rain and made my lips turn blue.
Its rugged paths have tested me and all who’ve come this way,
Yet, it remains my trail through time, my bond with yesterday.
Mackenzie Trail will long survive, a monument to will,
That I recall when I ride near on evenings, calm and still;
When doves exclaim in harmony, their lonely, hollow tone
And rouse the medley, old as time, so few have ever known.
These are the times
I sit and ponder at the beauty of it all,
amazed at the bounty of my blessings
Overburdened with foolish reminiscing
For the time has come for the present...
...life's never ending event
I admire the lovely wetness
of unexpected rain
Walnuts that look like human brains
Trees that sprout out of elk heads
to battle others for honor and for mates
I marvel at the convenience
of the kangaroo's curious pouch
The patience of eagles lying in wait
Chameleons (that rainbow reptilian)
shifting colors at a glance,
occasionally russet (at times van Gogh)
The industry of ants,
single file,
row
by row,
by row,
(not one little rebel)
The diamond skin of a pineapple,
amber juices aburst with sweetness
(and even the librarians in their neatness)
...not one little thing is worthy of omitting
For this bird bath of a planet
is positively brimming
with secrets to behold
Like the fangs of fire foxes
that tear into flesh
(but the story doesn't end there,
lest we forget)
For the pricks of a porcupine
are there to remind you,
regardless of strength or size
In the dark every creature
has the same set
of glowing eyes
The sunniest of marigolds
that brings the promise of summer fun
Just as much as the paper I like to fold
Cranes perched on the windowsill
(longing to fly just like the real ones)
There is magic everywhere you go,
no need to reinvent or fantasize
about some hidden secret or treasure trove
I can see the Pacific in your eyes
The Milky Way in a nautilus shell
(you can see it if you're looking,
you can hear it if you're blind)
Just sit a spell and listen
to the eternal song
of the infinite mind
Or catch a glimpse of April fireflies
(the misfit stars that got left behind)
So keep your gold, Leprechauns
Mermaids of old with your siren songs
serenade some other hapless chap
to the edge of the sea (and never look back)
And Genie of the Lamp, keep the other two,
for here's my first and only wish:
I want the earth, and everything that's in it...
...just as it is
PS. Inspired by the poetry of Suzanne Delaney and Carol Mays in their wonderful book, Poems of Nature, Enchantment and Mystery.
Warriors of austere adventures,
soldiers for suffering and tribe survival,
children,peasents,women & men,the penny poor & candid criminals,
proud peoples,honest heros,
we marched on all the flesh of earth,
no terrain was forbidden for the fantastic forbearence of the foriegn fighters,
campaigns on the cold clay of Europe's mountain valleys,
the smeltering sands of arid Arabia where the sanctuaries are shadows,
mundane manuevors upon the hot hills of the mutinational Meditterrain,
marching in spread points across Russia's frozen waters,
mildly marching single file through soft dirt along the massive Mississippi,
going above and beyond the shattered rock the Hindu Kush does pile,
forging fanaticaly in columns of two against angry winds that whirl and wail
amid the plateus of Peru where pain is pink and mercy mute,
motives for marching can be exquisitely egregious,or simple and sanctified
like the beating of a boy in order to make a man rather than a brute,
Hannibal climbed the hellish heights of the Alps,
Caeser acquired apotheosis by the grinding of Gaul,
the Khan of Asia killed for culture,
irreproachable rebels like Moses and Boudica fought for posterity,for legends,
Joseph Brant and Alaric broke yokes of the Imperial vulture,
Cincinatus pushed forward the march to ensure the peace with plough,
Tom Paine for freedom of expression,Joan of Arce burned for rapture,
simplicity brings relief,and sometimes joy while on the move,
oddities like bluejays & baccon,
wonders such as hawks & large wildlife,
good things like clean water & a commrades cackle,
mysterious events of improvised spiritual ritual,omens deciphered
unique to each are rife,
in the snow & in the beach,through the mud,grass & crisp leaves we traverse
to bring the battle to the enemy,
to deliver the war with might,
we march so to bring the conflict to ourselves,
we march to meet,compete,and to defeat ourselves,
we march to meet our Maker's light -
J.A.B. %
My name is Mr. Happy.
Spelled H-A-P-P-Y.
Also known as Pappy.
Spelled P-A-P-P-Y.
I am the Mr. Happy Pappy guy.
And, I hate to see kids cry...
I hate to see kids cry.
So... Smile, Smile for a while
In a happy smiley face style.
Can your smiles be in a pile?
Smile, Smile for a while.
Wear it proudly for a trial.
Can you wear it for a half mile?
Smile, Smile for a while.
Put a laugh in the smile pile.
Can it last for a whole mile?
Smile. Smile for a while.
Make it your own style.
Can a laugh and a smile
Walk down the aisle?
Smile, Smile for a while.
Put a giggle in the pile.
Can they go single file
For half past a mile?
Smile. Smile for a while.
Smiles, laughter, giggles in a pile.
Together they go more than a mile.
Remember me... Mr. Happy Pappy
When I'm not around.
The place where you imagine
Is the place where I am found.
From sagging huts up in the hills,
We watched the tourists flash their bills.
They piled our harvest on their plates,
While soup and scraps were all we ate.
The flames lick up from garbage cans,
Burnt brown like every working man,
Who shouts or sings or mutters low
Of the calluses that come and go.
They toss in straw, more flames shoot up
To light the faces, hewn and rough,
that need a creed, some faith to hold;
to make their insides proud and bold.
Right then and there, I stand to speak.
I will not play the lamb so meek.
The time has come to take back ours
from the wealthy dogs with fat cigars.
First cans, then cars, we overturn.
Now the boulevard begins to burn..
The fools shoot back, forget the cost,
The naked rage must not be lost.
We win ourselves some new recruits,
Some young; some old; some simply brutes;
I do not care where they heard the call.
The revolution now will need them all.
Our cause will die if all stays calm,
So I send out Juan with sweaty palms.
He won't come back, farewell, my friend.
Your blood will flow for greater ends.
Worn out, weary, our morale grows thin.
The feeling grows that we can not win.
We need more guns than we can steal,
But we do have one crop we can deal.
The rifles have arrived now. Good!
Excited now, they crack the wood.
My loathing of red, white and blue,
is spreading like the jungle flu.
Their army scatters, their leaders flee.
We've brought the country to it's knees.
With the capitol dead in our sights,
We'll soon assert the people's rights.
The grainy film does not portray
That it was a picture perfect day.
My second stands there, smart and trim.
It might pay to keep an eye on him.
We march them out in single file.
No need to bother with a trial.
Their baggy shirts and peasant lies
Betray them all as filthy spies.
Yes, the people had decreed this so,
I speak for them so I should know.
Your crimes have brought you here to die.
The people speak through me. Goodbye!
Their bodies jump in crimson leaps,
then tumble down in tangled heaps.
Scarlet skulls and splintered chests,
They'll surely air this in the West.
Bulldoze the bones and spread the lime,
For we all are on the side of time.
And tonight, we gather in the square.
Their blood has paid my ruling fare.
The heat of your breath hitting against me
Firing up my insides...seethingly sexy
Against my neck fascination begins
Bearing your silken Latin mocha skin
Wanton chocolate eyes melt me again
Dozens of synergies and elements connect
None I have had ...ever had this effect
Feeling like a kid :) ...hands in your pocket
Pressing your cool nose against my eye socket... :)
Silly me ....enjoying the simplest fun feeling
Slowly I exhale ...soothingly healing
Cherry wood pops in the fireplace tonight
You craving my passion lust takes it's bite
Complete and rightous I invincibly smile
Kiss me again love, let's mesh for a while....
Take me in the room walk me single file ~
Eleven horses traipsed single file toward home
The scudding clouds threw a snowflake now and then
A Brown bear sniffed the air and looked toward his den
the mountain emptied
The accumulation is but a handful
Shallow depth pushed against a pine tree base
But the flakes grew bigger as the skies darkened
a whiteness emerged
A wind from nowhere pushed the flakes sideways
The first blizzard of the year was in full blow
As inches turn to feet in no time at all
the world disappeared
Soon the sun arose and then the wind vanished
Silence ruled the whiteness without and within
As the blizzard had roared of its displeasure
the universe slept
7-11-20
Contest: Strand Completely new (8)
Sponsor:Brian Strand
It's time for school to start again.
Children must cease their summer play,
to once more pick up books, paper, pen.
It's time for school to start again.
Parents try to hide a grin.
They've been waiting for this day.
It's time for school to start again.
Children must cease their summer play.
Teachers welcome with a smile,
students on their first school day,
their faces scrubbed and dressed in style.
Teachers welcome with a smile,
then line them up in single file,
to enter in the room that way.
Teachers welcome with a smile,
students on their first school day.
8/20/15
HUMANS, ANTS AND SHADOWS
The smallest ants cast long shadows. . .
Little they are but see how discipline they can be
Millimeters apart, they all unify in a single file
It's a dismay that at some point
Humans, don't show such discipline
Instead of waiting for their turn
Sometimes one overtakes, one assumes
someone else's post just to be on time
selfish motive or emergency,
who knows?
Polymorphic ants, they merge
to do an umbrella of tasks
Humans regardless of status and age
All are entitled to do some chore
inside ones home, school or workplace
Hand and hand in a web of labor
Talking to each other
with their own way: pheromones
Some colonies act as one
but some misunderstands, they fight.
Humans as well does communicate
with the languages that abound this earth.
Hence, we can readily convey our thoughts
but still, highest among creations,
there are still confusions and war.
Amazing!
Such little creatures,
Ants and we, humans,
one way or another
cast long shadows. . .
_________________________
©O. E. Guillermo
03:31 pm, January 16, 2015
Note: Pheromones -- chemical substances released by insects (e.g. ants, bees, wasps etc.) the influences their physical behaviour particularly communication, signals.
COME, SIT BY ME ( to Emily Dickinson)
Emily--
Come,
Sit by me --
We’ll watch the singing chicks
Starlings searching --always searching on
Searching--hopping
through the plucky dawn
as the blue jumps from the sky--
We'll watch determined style
never stopping
always hopping
chirp in single file
There must be a lesson
in the birdlife that we see
Never finding what they seek
but happy as can be.
Victoria Anderson-Throop 2013
(rewrite)
AND I'M HUNGRY FOR YOU
Three days passed, Billy again is sitting relax in his favorite place. Smile flower from his face as he watch closely a single file of shadows on the wall. He is envious that these ants are more systematic and resourceful in gathering their bread and butter.
my need, my want, my
feelings of desire arise
by the smell of foods
Billy's hollow excited eyes accompanied by spiderlike hands
cram to spoon the fallen scattered crumbs of rice and biscuits
from a passer by on the rough dirty floor.
Today, I desire
an eat all you can meal treat
"all" including filth
He is done eating all crumbs but still a lion growls inside his stomach,
he ran like a train to ask her mama for milk but how can he suck--
... when fertile breasts two weeks now is suffering drought.
parasitical
technically edible----
I am eating you
_____________________________________________________________
8:41 pm; July 27, 2015
My concrere rose
Stone in single file under the rock;
Scraping purple sea shells under the dock.
The seeds scattered all but one spot,
Blossom bloom, blowing memories.
Fading illusion I had company;
A brother that look out for me,
A sister that look up to me,
A mother might seek the best for me
But I'm shadow torn
Blades mince the dice in me.
Gambling games there's no lucky three.
Losing spree I've already lost the soul in me.
I'm dust; call me soil erosion
I'm living low key grandstand
With these voices in my head I can't translate.
Explain, words I don't understand
Nobody there but the walls speak.
Alone street geared with nothing but
Weak.
Wishing I'll fall asleep;
Enter a very lucid dream,
Victim to a trance unique,
Buried in tunnel so deep,
To sprout from a funnel unusually
Steep.
A concrete rose
With a smell of ease
Sprouting from gravel grapevine.
Untwisting
Death peace.
A new photograph floats to the surface
Playfully dressing up as the world around me
Hat, striped socks and all
Tiptoeing at the top for one last sweet moment
Before sinking back into my ocean mind.
One after another they arrive
Single file,
Steeping my eyes in the world
As the minds shutter, ever fluttering
Strings together this conscious stream I play in.
My photographs fade in time’s wrinkled arms.
Joining their brothers and sisters at the ocean floor,
They hold hands and try to answer the question that is always asking itself:
Who am I?
Jacob Reinhardt
10/3/2013
Sara lived across from a large cemetery;
So, many sad processions she had seen;
But one gray and foggy morning
One like no other made an eerie scene.
Driving slowly was a long, black hearse;
But then, following right behind, another.
Followed by a woman with a huge dog on a leash.
Draped in black, she was someone’s wife or mother.
Then Sara noticed a long line of mourners,
All in black; and following in single file.
Suddenly, she realized they were all women;
And that brought just a hint…a glimmer…of a smile.
Compelled, Sara hurried through the mist.
She just had to know the story.
Just what had happened to these two people
That sent them to their glory?
She walked beside the woman with the dog;
Apologized for her uninvited intrusion.
“I’ve lived here for years, but seen nothing like this.
Please, explain. Give clarity to my confusion.”
“The first hearse carries my husband.
This dog was his demise.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss” said Sara.
A tear came to her eye.
“But what about the second hearse?” she asked.
“That would be his girlfriend…yes, it’s true.
She thought she could help his situation,
But the dog killed her too.”
“Oh, how sad” Sara muttered.
As they slowly walked through the fog.
“But then, who are all these ladies who mourn?”
“They’re not mourning. They want to borrow the dog.”
Spare a thought
For buffaloes, bulls and bears groaning, mourning, starving
Under your collar don’t blow hot
Making rivers and rodents sad, carving
Space and time you don’t own
Encroaching on privileges animals and plants possess
In their comfort and discomfort zone
You dare to distress and stress
Best to minimize the plight
Reptiles and rabbits confront every morning and afternoon
With no morsels of grub in sight
As savannas and simians croon
Shambling in starvation style
Bulging bellies boast as labels of stables and fables of gluttony
For a convoy of jalopies cruising in single file
Pay last respect to Tony
Who’d passed on in pitiful poverty
Impecunious
Although in death no novelty
Comes through under the guise of ingenious
Crafting of manipulation
But you’d do well to sacrifice creature comforts to elevate the fate
Endured by long suffering trees and tigers whose daily nourishment ration
Ought to funnel a debate
On the injustice witnessed globally when a tiny few
Gorges on two thirds of world resources
With neither care nor clue
On the abuse fauna and flora sources
Suffer
Dwindle
Prefer
Decrease as the self satisfying spindle
Spins and spins
With little thought on air and water pollution
Pins
On environmental dissolution
Metamorphosing the Earth into a less habitable planet
Treated with disdain
Depleting the Earth’s net
Worth as polluters gain bargains again and again
Super profits
Turning a blind eye
To sarcasm skits, bludgeon bits and tendentious tweets
Lying inside a liberal lie
That all’s well
Environment concerns mean nothing
As imbalances and inhospitable elements swell
To spell doom unless you start caring for Mother Earth and her everything.