Best Surveying Poems
I wish I were a Unicorn
So smooth and white with shiny horn
To prance and dance on clouds up there
And spend my days surveying air
I'd stop and visit clouds of rain-
Those darker ones, which are a pain
When they release their water flow
On earthly beings down below
I'd then check out a fluffy one
The kind that always blocks the sun
It would be best to take a snooze
While 'neath blue sky I'd float and cruise
I'd love clouds more at sunset time
When glowing colors make them shine
A Unicorn would like it best
Upon a cloud that's shiniest
At night, I'd fly up near the moon
See how the tides are kept in tune
Come morn, I'd go close to the sun
To see how brand new dawn is done
Again at dark, some stardust find
The finest and most brilliant kind
To sprinkle on my wings of white
And store to share the starry light
Perhaps I'd make it way up far
To find the place where blessings are
I'd seek the ones with greater worth
And gently throw them down to earth
I wish I were a Unicorn
So smooth and white with shiny horn
I'd monitor the earth below
To sprinkle it with stardust glow
Somewhere in a strange land
An unknown heart throbs for me
Etching an amorous graffiti
On the blank walls of my mind
Where ever I am, I feel a pair of eyes
Fondly surveying and scanning me,
Speaking to me in silence
And keeps me awake in the night
I feel it all, I hear it all
Filling me with a sweet ache!
When night birds croon in the woods
And their mates answer the serenade,
When the moon begins her somnambulistic walk
And light beams percolate through pine needles,
When glow worms float in darkness
Like cruise ships over the sea,
When the opening Jasmine secretly exults
In her own exotic scent,
Sitting in my dimly lighted room
I draft this message of love
Pouring all my warmth into it
Thus emptying my love laden heart
That blazes with the fire of love
And encode it in cryptic script
To be mailed to you, my love!
Oh, it might take much time
Better it be a whispered endearment
Sent through this perfumed night breeze
That shall carry it from this end to that end
So kindly leave your window open!
~Placed First~
A Strand (1074) Poetry Contest
Nov.28.2022
~PLACED FOURTH~
Re-submitted for 2022 Poetry Marathon. Mile.21. Poetry Contest (with
modifications)
I turned into a Unicorn-
so silky-white, with wings and horn,
to prance and dance on clouds up there
and spend my days surveying air-
to watch how twinkling stars are born.
I stopped to visit clouds of rain-
those darker ones that are a pain,
as they release their water flow
on earthly beings down below
who pray for sunny skies in vane.
But soon, I saw a fluffy one-
the kind that always blocks the sun
and found it best to take a snooze.
While in the breeze- I took a cruise
upon a cloud so softly spun.
At night, I flew up near the moon-
saw how the tides are kept in tune.
Come morn, I pranced toward the sun
to see how the new dawn is done-
then leads me on to bright high noon.
When day turns dark, stardust I find-
the finest and most brilliant kind,
to sprinkle on my wings so white.
Stored there, I shake the starry light
on those below, named Humankind.
And after that, I fly up far
to find the place where blessings are.
I seek the ones of dearest worth,
and shower them upon the Earth;
shared gifts from me- peace Avatar.
Landscapes exposing nature’s grandeur
mountain ranges inspire great trip.
Cordilleras of welcoming marvels
propel refreshing ascent
amidst pure verdant sights.
Those delight me, the Earth’s firmament
while surveying the pine trees steadfastly queueing along hills
offering shade to blossoming lilies
with cabbage roses wondrously radiant…
oh, inviting faith-strengthening treks
driven by faithful stewardship with reaching-out pursuits
toward triumphant spiritual peaks----
Today’s awesome focus points me toward the third heavens*
as I hover above this certain magnificent vista**
designed by the sovereign Creator ---
giant mounds sprawling
cloudy crests and pinnacles ~
engraved terraces
*Hebrews 8:1 …We have such an high priest, who is set on the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in the heavens.
**Kibungan, Benguet Philippines is my Dad's birthplace.
September 17, 2020
2nd place, "Writing Challenge - Nature, Four in One" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 9/20/2020.
"Of two sisters, I was the follower and she was the adventurer."
Quote by _ Constance
Suzanne, leads me
to her place in the cemetery
and I can hear the night sighing
I want to stay with her
Oh, you may think me crazy
but I will miss my sister forever
I wish we could drink tea like our yesterdays
green tea all the way from China in fancy cups
I tell her how much I love her still
but have brought no flowers in this dream
and she lets the sparkling stars answer
whispering I will always love you too
and I want to kiss and hug her
for she is my legend and my hero
she is my sister love
Suzanne, was an adventurer
one day we climbed a snow mountain
we stood so proud from our high tower
surveying our kingdom
and then we were slipping
and she let go of my hand, falling
sliding off the mountain of snow
I screamed her name over and over
as a sea of snow crashed down
leaving her broken below
and my life would never be the same
she had let go of my hand to save me
as she sank like a stone
oh, how many times I have wished to die
and I want to kiss and hug her
for she is my legend and my hero
she is my sister love
Suzanne, is floating
and is leading me to the cemetery gate
she is wearing a pretty dress
bought from a thrift store for her funeral
and the moon shines down like honey
as we move in silence
past the praying angel statues
headstones and decaying flowers
oh, she saved me that day
when we were just children playing
sisters who loved each other so much
and will forever and evermore
Suzanne holds the gate open for me in this dream
and I want to kiss and hug her
for she is my legend and my hero
she is my sister love
Thunderheads
Written: by Tom Wright
O, boisterous clouds,
Why do you pout on high?
With friction so among you,
Will lightening too,
Not soon cross the sky?
In bumping heads,
You cause the thunders burst
Then in your sorrow weep
And once again your tears,
Quench earth's thirst.
I stand alone surveying aloft,
Your strength and might.
But then like curtains,
You're parting once again,
For God's sunlight.
Seeing a rainbow hanging,
In a distant portion of your sky.
I need not ask the question,
Where do you go
When not in sight, or why?
Fifty-year class reunions are stricken with sadness:
Former classmates falling apart before my eyes.
Jane uses a walker, and Stan exhibits madness.
Wages of age foreshadow classmates’ demise.
In youth’s green age I could not fathom this,
A time when peers would be withered and worn.
How I wonder could life have gone so amiss?
Surveying the scene, my heart is heavy, torn.
I give proud thanks that I’m not like the others,
Having been spared of time’s toxic touches.
“But what has befallen my sisters and brothers?”
I ponder the question as I reach for my crutches.
She climbed the liquid staircase
just to gaze at gleaming stars;
all she wanted was a wee one
to light up her fair boudoir.
A thousand times she spied them
flash across the midnight sky;
she strained so high to catch one,
but the mermaid could not fly.
Exhausted with hard striving,
she lay back against the sea,
rocking on the waves, gently,
as she rested peacefully.
The moon, climbing his set arc,
saw her glistening on the foam;
at first sight so madly loved
her, longing to take her home.
To lightly comb her flowing
hair, he sent a small moonbeam,
who tangled in her tresses
and woke her from her dream.
With a flash, her glittering tail
slapped the water and she fled,
sliding down in the ocean,
hiding in her pearl lined bed.
The moon, absent one moonbeam,
wanders heaven, round and round,
surveying seas and oceans,
praying his mermaid is found.
Sometimes in the deep, dark pool
he sees a shining light start
beneath the frothing billows,
and he clutches for his heart.
Forever in his orbit...
she, forever in the waves,
her hair with his beam glowing,
all of love he ever gave.
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, May 31, 2014
(Please read The Park -- Part One first ...
This is a continuation from Part One, due to space limitations)
Yes, kids at play are bold and wise
with flashing smiles and knowing eyes.
Children tire easily of grown-up prattle;
thoughts turn to cakes, to toys that rattle.
They think that Belles and Bills tell lies.
Tme is a birthday gift or a new surprise:
games to play; a windy day for a kite one flies;
coins that shine; toys that squeak;
a trip to the zoo at the end of the week.
Belles and Bills persist in their story.
Some even mention forgotten glory.
Children go home to eat, to sleep,
as Belles and Bills their vigils keep
then wearily drift back to flats
to listen to the rustling rats,
to sip their beers or gins or rums --
to wait until the morning comes.
They stand and stretch, look all around,
surveying the world to which they're bound.
Then they shuffle away with airs of sadness
at being always on the verge of madness.
They'll see once more the sun's first ray,
the birth in the park of another day.
Eyes are glazed and minds are dazed;
the atmosphere grows dim and hazed.
An eerie echo of an unheard bark
reverberates throughout the park
amid falling leaves and a darkening sky
and the nightly proof of the chilren's lie.
She pleaded to me with a blushed body,
ready readily for the holiday my maintinance could muster for her pink engine,
the electricity my overtime bedtime love ryhme induces, innerbody outerbody attention,
my woman pled and I fed, her skin smelled like sweet leather, expensive and exotic,
her taste, oh her taste,
a salt infused with inimitable vanilla extract of erotica,
shes my virgin tonight, shes my soul purpose, my handicraft her sole investment,
my rough hands ceaselessly surveying the surface of her vulnerable and vital being,
no flaws are found, because no flaws are sought, no resistense, nothing fought,
upright together, gripping her nape, kissing the pulse on throat,
flaxen hair swiming across my focused face, one arm around lower curve of back,
in unison the slots inbetween my thumb and index sweep upon her breast
cleverly turning & tightning into nipples elevated for enclosing excitment,
eyelashes grazing my cheek and her moist mouth on earlobe
elicit the need for perpendicular laying, for ramming motion ritual,
I unfold her, with fingers lovingly clasped on that nimble neck of hers
as I insert and glide with a job to do, a love to pursue,
the words came latter, instinct inspired now -
J.A.B.
The slap of sneakers on concrete,
Fill my ears with hollow sound;
Like my heart it has a beat,
Steady thumps against the ground.
My eyes are wide, to take in any light,
But not many shine in the dark.
I couldnt stand another fight,
Another sharp and mean-cutting remark.
I stop to take a quick bent-over breath;
Soon I'll start again on my run.
This adreniline is like crystal-meth,
It'll keep me going, when I just want to be done.
My eyes open again in the night,
Surveying quickly the world around.
For this action I wont feel contrite,
Otherwise I'd soon be burried in the ground.
My jeans are ripped at the knees,
My shirt-a tanktop of the color black.
This need to get away is like a disease,
With not an urge to ever go back.
The lights shine on the road, a pale yellow-white,
They catch my green-blue frantic eyes.
Even with no one around, my chest squeezes tight;
Afraid that they'll wake up and find me gone, though i never said goodbye.
The railroad is up ahead, right beneath my feet.
I reach out my hand, and feel the Runaway Train.
I have one chance, I cant allow defeat.
Around the handel I toss and loop my thick silver chain,
And pull my self up, up and off the ground;
I keep up and hold on, with one last look behind.
To open the door it only takes one pound,
Then im out of the wind, inside, in the darkness, blind.
For a moment, I have the chance to breathe;
Gone from everything I've known:
No chance of dysfunctional familys,
No chance of ever knowing home.
Runaway Train, I've runaway,
The night abducts me.
The internal disorder has led me astray;
my mind is clearer, soon youd see.
I had but one choice left,
I chose the Runaway Train...
SHE-TIGER
She-Tiger patiently watches,
In shadows,
Dark concealing realm,
Green eyes pierce nights,
Blackening shroud.
Ever weary, seeking motions,
Movements,
Beware the bush itself seems,
To come alive,
Beneath moonlights twilight mists,
Heavy foot steps cautiously,
Tread.
Traveling along a carnalistic path,
Deaths servant stalks it's prey.
Revealing raw natures twisted fate,
In her flashing gaze, ageless,
Wisdom lies,
This huntress most majestic.
Sleek jungle mistress, fearlessly,
Striding.
Forgotten trails cutting,
Edges unyielding,
Patrolling vast wilderness.
Drink deeply clear waters purity,
No other creature dares,
Come near thee.
Forests chameleon, hidden,
Amongst bamboo thickets.
Camouflages golden blends,
Are parted,
By divisions striped bands.
Feeding legacies future brood.
Crowns glorious jewels,
Young cubs at play,
Learning life’s lessons to be,
Remembered someday.
Rough dull stones at first,
Finely polished y age,
One day they'll sparkle,
Under sunshine's rays.
Royalties queen, stands tall,
Upon prides rock,
Surveying an evergreen,
Kingdom.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Inviting and magnetic the towering awesome sight
A perspective of domineering rock and icy peaks
It challenges, dares and beckons with unfolding beauty
Stretching upwards into shades of blue and puffy clouds.
Along the winding sloping trail I make my way, the easy
Lower tract encased in green, till rough terrain appears
Then stimulation is released when steep ascent arrives.
I climb and breathe the pure fresh air, intense intoxication
It is so peaceful all around, a place for meditation.
The time goes by. I look for holds and make full use of spikes
Intent on concentration. The wind comes by and contributes
To the hazards of melting ice and hidden crevasses
The weary limbs in need of rest; a keen lookout for falling rocks
An avalanche of crumbling doubts that slows the pace...
Subdued exhilaration when the going gets too hard.
At last the top is right above. An added burst of strength
Dispels the peril of defeat. One final forward thrust
Victory is mine. The summit reached I gaze in awe
Surveying with pride my sprawling kingdom down below.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Contest: Pinnacle
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
Sweep then across the flowing sea of time
to stand unseen amid a stinking horde
and there behold the rich who turn away
or groveling poor that vaguely beckon—
surveying misery's grimy bounds of each.
Wretched feeble ones of withered limb
and clouded eye—ladies in their rags—
ignored by ones who might have paused and bent
but never did, to burden beggars' bowls,
nudging them from darkness into light.
They Call It Wounded Knee
I came, I saw, I cried;
To the field where they died.
They call it Wounded Knee;
My peoples' history.
Bodies lying, frozen to the ground;
No mourners to be found.
Children still clinging to their mothers;
Laying dead beside their brothers.
The smell of death in the air;
Pools of blood everywhere.
Babies with their heads bashed in;
To waste an army bullet on them would be a sin.
Soldiers surveying their wicked deeds;
Mugging for pictures with the "savage" breed.
Celebrating the slaughter of the Sioux;
Burial is for Christians, but for Indians a mass grave would do.
Sporting medals upon their chest;
Saying that they conquered the west.
Taking the lives of an entire race;
Feeling no remorse or disgrace.
I came, I saw , I cried;
I asked questions of why.
The people of Wounded Knee;
Could not have life and liberty.
The answer was simply said;
"Kill the animals until they're all dead".
"Let my God sort them out";
Land is what it's all about.
The place where the mighty Sioux fell;
Is a white man's hell.
Once was a place of pride;
The field where they died.
Darlene Doll Smith