Best Upstate Poems
Away to Vermont on a Dr's appointment. Coming back and riding the Ferry to New York my wife Judy and I decided to stop off at Panera Bread for lunch thru the Drive thru. I notice a man counting his few dollars by the drive thru. His long hair and beard caught my attention.
His face looked sunburned, and he looked withered and dry. Sadly I noticed that
his tan pants had a large brown streak down his rear side. Looking at this broke my heart.
As I went thru the drive thru I ordered an extra sandwich, a lemonade and chips. My wife looked at me not knowing my thoughts and said ,"Michael your hungry today."
As I came around after picking the food, I looked for that man. He had disappeared. I drove around on a mission to find him. At last, I saw him, he
had gone into the restaurant. I parked the car and told my wife what my plans were. She was surprised and was very supportive.
I walked through the door and introduced myself to him. I said I have
something for you. He looked up smiling and said, "God bless you." I said, "God bless you." I asked him where he was from and he said, " Willow Alaska." He shared with me he was looking for his parents in Upstate NY. He said he suffered
from mental illness and that he was a minister. While talking to this stranger I felt an incredible love resonating through him, it is hard to explain.
I said good bye my friend and felt guilty because I wanted to do more for him. His name was Robbie.
I shared the story with my wife and my brother Gus and they said that God puts angels in this world and Robbie might be an angel you cared for.
There is not a better feeling than helping someone in need.
I made a new friend today, a homeless man named Robbie.
I encourage everyone to reach out to those less fortunate and make a difference in their lives. Even saying hello, or asking them how they are doing. So many people are silently suffering, and any act of kindness will help them cope better. God bless those of you that do...
Michael Tor
6/12 2023
The air was thin and icy.
It was dark and cold outside.
A blanket of snow covered the ground.
The footprints in the snow led the way.
We loaded the bus one-by-one as if we were animals entering Noah’s Ark.
Statuesque beings sat motionless in their seats.
Twenty pairs of eyes half-open stared blankly ahead fixated on nothingness.
Our journey to the unknown was about to begin.
The bus tired spun in circles like a child’s merry-go-round.
Round and round they went like the thoughts in my head.
I felt like a kid at the circus.
Excitement and freedom swept over me like a cool, summer breeze.
The road was long and unfamiliar.
Time passed by so slowly as if the earth’s stopwatch had been turned off.
The once frozen bus was not swimming in a sea of hot air.
Our final destination was a small, almost-deserted town in Upstate NY.
It looked as though a plague had swept through like a giant broom and devastated it completely.
One after the other buses pulled up.
A sea of yellow painted the once dreary canvas.
Girls of all shapes and sizes descended onto the now colorful landscape.
All dressed in tan britches, black boots, and smiles.
The clan of riders filed into the ring like a colony of ants all with the same mission.
This was my first mission.
I was a soldier going into battle for the first time.
The ant colony gathered in a circular formation.
The sign-in table was engulfed and swallowed whole.
Numbers were being handed out, one-by-one.
36, 17, 41, 54, 62, 12, 19, 38…
The judge’s voice boomed over the speaker like the voice of G-d.
Every crevice of the ring was filled with the loud, unclear syllables.
Girls of horseback walked proudly and calmly into the ring.
Horses arched their necks and pranced around as if they owned the world.
Tails raised slightly, eyes beaming forward, chests massive.
Hours passed by like days.
My nerves built up like a roaring fireball in my stomach.
One swift leg-up from my coach and I am propelled onto the horse.
I land smoothly into seat of the saddle.
I am welcomed with open arms.
Together, as one creation, we walked into the ring to compete the mission at hand.
Hudson Valley, New York
Oh, Hudson Valley, place that I call home,
you hug the river from which came your name.
On fertile banks, the settlers came to roam
and stayed to prosper and your land proclaim.
Your winding Hudson River grew their dreams
with farmlands, orchards and new industries,
and lovely homes that languish in your scenes
atop green rolling hills with graceful trees.
And from my window, you present to me
the vision of your peaceful valleys and
the sparkling river waters that flow free
from north to south thru Hudson Valley land.
When weary from the stresses of each day...
I relish in the peace your views portray.
Sandra M. Haight
~2nd Place~
Contest: Sonnet About Where You Live
Sponsor: Silent One
Judged: 01/07/2017
Note: The Hudson River begins at Lake Tear of the Clouds in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York. It flows to the tip of Manhattan in the southern part of the state.
My home is in Newburgh, a town along the Mid-Hudson Valley, sixty miles north of New York City.
It can be kind of depressing,
living in upstate New York,
because of that damn city,
that grand ol’ attention whore,
I cannot go anywhere
without having to explain
that I don’t live in a borough,
I live three hours away!
Can’t go to vote in November,
without a voice in my mind
reminding me they cancel us,
that it’s all a waste of time.
Can’t expect rights protected,
not in the countryside,
not when Urban know-it-alls
think history has a ‘tide.’
And to top it off the upstate
lands are quite something to see,
overflowing with wilderness,
and quiet, pastoral beauty.
We got thunderous Niagara,
and Letchworth’s massive gorge,
Finger Lakes and wine country,
Ontario’s freshwater shores.
The rolling, lore-steeped Catskills,
shot through with mighty cloves,
the rocky Adirondacks,
break sky with ancient stone,
the grandeur of the Hudson
carves it was through the scene,
flanked by bucolic county,
and deep wilderness serene.
The north has the St. Lawrence,
of Thousand Islands fame,
the central lands have waterfalls,
and are shot through with caves.
The sheer walls of Shawangunk,
the rugged beauty of Lake George,
Champlain with its famous monster,
Lake Placid’s Olympic sports.
Yes, there’s quite a lot up here,
so much for folks to see,
all of it in the shadow,
of that oversized city.
Though now that I think of it,
if the city wasn’t there,
all those ten million people,
would have to move somewhere…
Oh, good lord, no!
Come visit the Big Apple,
it’s a magic place to go,
the finest experience
most folks will ever know!
With skyscrapers, museums,
great food on every plate,
come visit New York City,
I swear to God, it’s ‘great.’
Piece of calm
In this
World of chaos
Breath of relief
While grasping
For a single gulp
Of air
The grounded green of
Spring
Of hope rising
Of life reborn
To the burning passions
Of the flame
Full of power and energy
That can take it
All down
The silence
At 3am
With the moon
In the horizon
To the clamorous city
People making their
Way upstate
At noon
With the sun
Beaming down upon them
All
The balance
Between it all
Where they belong
The rec was where we dug sandy tunnel dens
in danger of collapse.There I fired my catapult
on a group of three children some distance away
as I hid behind a willow tree
not far from the passage leading in.
The straightness and speed of the stone
surprised me. It struck a young girl
on her spine, someone unknown,
and as she swung her left hand back
to clutch at her pain I ducked to hide
and slunk aside in the shadow of the trees.
They did not see me as they turned.
I think of it now with shame.
There was no reason.
Much older, as I walked alone across a parking lot
in upstate New York someone took a shot
at me from a window of nearby apartments.
The bullet pinged the lamp post near my head
and I turned to scan the windows from where it must have come, but saw no one.
There was no reason.
Apache, the Ndee, "the people" of Arizona and other States
Blackfoot, the Siksika, whose painted red faces we can relate
Cheyenne, the Tsitsistas, meaning relatives of the Cree
Dakota Sioux, the Dakota, meaning little snakes in Ojibwe
Euchee, or Yuchi, are the "children of the sun"
Fox, the Meskwaki, eventually native to Wisconsin
Gros Ventre, strangely named "big belly" by the French
Huron, with their above allies left many a tribe wrenched
Inuit, the Eskimo, this tribe with the snow
Juaneño, from the Sunshine State around Orange and San Diego
Kickapoo, with their linguistic code, unique called "whistle speech"
Lakota, like the Dakota, speak with similar tongues they teach
Mohawk, "People of the Flint" from upstate New York
Navajo, is now the most spoken, where extinction has not gone berserk
Ottawa, "the traders" their name lives on in their City
Potawatomi, "fire keepers" one hundred speakers, my hearts in pity
Qwulhhwaipum, "the prairie people from beyond the mountain range"
Ryawas, by the Missouri River where they no longer reign
Shawnee, meaning "southerner" were are far ranging tribe
Tonkawa, "they keep together" but only a few still reside
Ute, of Colorado and Salt Lake valley fame
Victorious the ones who remain to this day, whilst the V has no name
Wiyot, and its last native speaker, died in 1962
X, xenophobic they would be, to the ancestors of me and you
Yavapai, from Arizona, are the "people of the sun"
Zuni, like all the tribes above, fell victim to the white mans gun
.
The True American.
Apache, the Ndee, "the people" of Arizona and other States
Blackfoot, the Siksika, whose painted red faces we can relate
Cheyenne, the Tsitsistas, meaning relatives of the Cree
Dakota Sioux, the Dakota, meaning little snakes in Ojibwe
Euchee, or Yuchi, are the "children of the sun"
Fox, the Meskwaki, eventually native to Wisconsin
Gros Ventre, strangely named "big belly" by the French
Huron, with their above allies left many a tribe wrenched
Inuit, the Eskimo, this tribe with the snow
Juaneño, from the Sunshine State around Orange and San Diego
Kickapoo, with their linguistic code, unique called "whistle speech"
Lakota, like the Dakota, speak with similar tongues they teach
Mohawk, "People of the Flint" from upstate New York
Navajo, is now the most spoken, where extinction has not gone berserk
Ottawa, "the traders" their name lives on in their City
Potawatomi, "fire keepers" one hundred speakers, my hearts in pity
Qwulhhwaipum, "the prairie people from beyond the mountain range"
Ryawas, by the Missouri River where they no longer reign
Shawnee, meaning "southerner" were a far ranging tribe
Tonkawa, "they keep together" but only a few still reside
Ute, of Colorado and Salt Lake valley fame
Victorious the ones who remain to this day, whilst the V has no name
Wiyot, and its last native speaker, died in 1962
X, xenophobic they would be, to the ancestors of me and you
Yavapai, from Arizona, are the "people of the sun"
Zuni, like all the tribes above, fell victim to the white mans gun.
With cheerful hearts we join in celebrations
in our simple, quiet upstate town
and Main Streets' decorations look so pretty
laced with the snowflakes that are falling down
We'll take a ride to look at all the houses
that delight us with their bright displays
and when we go downtown to do some shopping
we hum to carols that the speakers play
On Christmas Eve we gather with our neighbors
with our families and beloved friends
and happily as we are joined together
our hearts fill with the joy this season sends
As we are sharing goodies and our laughter
Christmas songs play on the radio*
These simple celebrations are a treasure
that I have been so blessed to come to know
*One tradition that I love in the small upstate
New York town I live in is that our local radio station
plays Christmas music from Christmas Eve through
Christmas Day and always seems to be a part of our
gatherings. They play music on Main Street throughout
the year but the Christmas tunes are always the loveliest!
Inspired by Carolyn Devonshires' Christmas in Your Town contest
Devonian birthed an innocent beach
down at the delta of a river great.
Compressed and oppressed by sediment weight,
sand became stone hidden far from life's reach.
A northern ice-angel came to impeach
the cloak of silt atop the stone's pate.
Leaving exposed in a fixed angry state
labyrinths and crevices bred of the breach.
But soon upon the sedimentary,
dampened and moist facing east and north,
spread verdant moss and ethereal fern.
The friendlier integumentary
fed roots of cherry and beech bringing forth
flight that ascended to Holocene's turn.
Ann Silverthorn 1995
This poem is about Panama Rocks, formed by a glacier, in upstate New York.
She likes to snowboard
I'm a beast on skis
She is about the cold
Summer works best for me
Her cranberry spiked absolute
My scotch is on the rocks
She's thick, artistic, astute
I'm a chip off the old block
She likes women
Hey look, so do I
she's smart, ambitious, driven
I've got this poetic mind
She's a mountain girl
I'm partial to the beach
---------------------------------------------
I use my right of free speech
she likes to observe
Overbearing, my thoughts exposed
Her freaky nature held at bay
I'm nasty and mean to impose
She came over in lingerie!
I was born and graduated upstate
She was raised in N.Y. City
I spark a blunt, no shame!
She's a little hippie
I have a unique, witty swagger
Shorties a quarter among dimes
In this moment none of that matters
All that ass is mine!!
Jared Pickett
3/6/2014
Asavvy1
Divine Intervention
His name was Lynn.
We had nothing in common.
I – a city punk, twenty something,
High School grad, Ironworker.
He – an upstate NY, college educated,
beret-wearing, ”Spiritual Giant”.
Recurring questions dogged
this relationship….
….”Who am I?”
….”Who is he?”
…”Why have our paths intertwined?”
I don’t believe
he ever told me anything,
just left trails of spiritual
bread crumbs for me
to follow.
He always seemed to teach me
lessons I didn’t know
were being taught.
Guided me with firm
yet gentle words
allowing me to unveil
my spirit in the safety
of his presence.
I reflect often
on this Avatar,
this incarnate teacher,
stopping on his journey
to assist another
in their quest.
His name was Lynn.
We had nothing in common.
©11/16/2017
submitted to – AVATAR – Poetry Contest
definition – an incarnate divine teacher
a gal with a very full plate
decided to leave love to fate
she had a ten year plan
and a sexy pool-man
at her house on the hill upstate
Money Talks, It talks for me,
Cash this check and you will see.
A bribe for you, if you choose.
If you don't, we both loose.
______________________________________________________________________
Michael Tor 2277
12 Edgar Allen Poe Dr. 10/5/2015
Dannemora, NY 12929 Date
Pay to the
Order of________________Cash_____________| $ 1000,000.00
_______________________________ One Million__________Dollars
Upstate Bank of New York
For Payment of Winning Contest________________ __________________
:021343077: 133026492" 4725
______________________________________________________________________
Michael Tor 10/5/2015 Contest You Want it Bad Then Bribe Me
What have you got to say for yourselves
as I sit here at the stoplight
and watch snow fall on your headstones?
I laugh to think that you could
be so kind, so solicitous,
so full of mirth and merry making
as the rest of us slog our way
through winter while you rest in peace.
Shall I be jealous of your peace?
Not in the least.
I, too, sleep--not in hallowed ground--
but in the sweet repose
of love's hot embers
that burn with endless blessings
of a heart set free.
Shall we dance in the moonlight at dawn?
Shall we clap to the trumpet's chill-blast?
I think we should hope for a circular tune
that we'll all sing together at last.
(Mount Hope Cemetery, located in Upstate New York.)