I swayed to your bamboo flute
delicate
hollow purity reverberated
into marrow sallow
tenacious sounds sent forth
healing
peeling
seedeaters, woodpeckers
finches —
inches upon inches
who harboured in bamboo’s unstinting growth
their arbour …
witnessed I a wakeful field from which
spaciousness sprouted
into a bamboo life
inviting tranquility
rooted into inscrutable
golden loam —
they stood flexibly erect
waiting to serve …
____________________________
4th Placement: Premier Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Oct 26
____________________
[ Poet’s Note :
This poem is an expanded version
of my Brevity Poem : Bamboo ‘26 :
Gold Placement Winner :
Allpoetry Oct.26]
Lying in a meadow of freshly cut hay with the warm summer sunshine
Just dreaming the day away
Being kept cool by a gentle summer breeze, listening to the buzzing sounds
from summer bumble bees
Relaxed and contented beneath the warm summer sky
Blue and clear, not a cloud is passing by
The aroma of the summer wild flowers reaches me as I daydream the sound of water
flowing in a nearby stream
In my summer field of hay I see a field mouse scurrying and collecting bits
to build his field mouse house
A hawk is flying high in the summer sky not a sound does he make
as he majestically goes by
The time for me to leave now as the sunlight fades away
By rest assured I will return to my summer time field of hay
Purple and black bird
Dropped the cowboys a pigskin turd
Telling a tale with heart
Playing the dramatic part
Preventing extra time
Dallas didn't mind
But the lone stars were declined
When the loop was sealed
Closing the deal
Making the Rippleys highlight real
Pulling off the steal
Disarming gunslingers' shooters
By using Tyler's powerful booter
Seconds it took to set up the stage
Creating festive rage
When odd looking ball took flight
Through the three-point designated upright
What a sight
North westerners went home lesson learned
About how they got burned
You may want to listen to Mister Poe
Bagging the Arlington's deceased head to toe
While enjoying the Rio de Janeiro show
Home it is time to go
Say good night
But lights
Should shine bright
Exorcising any Brazilian frights
The Bermuda Triangle, does it still exist?
For a long time there has been no mention
No airplanes vanish, nor ships and boats missed
What’s happened to famed fifth dimension?
I read about time tunnels, unquiet zones
Toxic vapours of methane hydrate
Triangle get lost, so no happy returns
The last of great mysteries fades
Its magnetic field has been demagnetized
Or maybe the global warmth stroke
Bad seaweed has died, and the air clarified
So the danger zone evoked a joke
No one gives a damn was it fiction or truth
That old hype has veered off the track
But I'd much prefer to see this in the news:
“The Bermuda Triangle strikes back!”
wind writes on the field
soft lines drifting through the grass
daylight folds its gentle page
I read what it leaves
A field of blue
For who?
US or you
If I red, this right
About the American white
Knight's
Field of blue
Seeking justice true
Using a vigilant eagle eye
Persevering every try
Proudly raising the flag high
It flies
Message sent
Throughout the forging valley's tent
Watching old glory touch the stars
Blue field defends its red, white bars
Healing any freedom scars
Fifty or thirteen
It all means
The same
When one claims
An independent life
While piping the fife
And banging a drum
Feeling welcome
Under the blue sky
Where the American flag flies
High
Sounding the call
Down at the mall
Holiday sale all
Month long
Playing patriotic songs
Before debating what is wrong
Making us blue
Wondering exactly what is true?
That is how we act
And if you do not like it, go pack
I went across the field of daisies
Lavenders and tulips too
The time around was self-erasing
Flowers bent as I walked through
Stepped onto a wooden path
Trees ahead were falling down
Leafy branches I did pass
Out of woods I went to town
It was raining through the sunlight
Garbage and recycling bins
Stood there overflown as I
Passed the cobblestone old streets
I’ve found your house rang the door
Someone else’s voice proclaimed
You don’t live there anymore
And they can’t recall your name
Then I died and went away
Cause the dead can walk unseen
So I do this everyday
Walking in and out of screen.
.
wheat
such handsome
thuh
gold shift'n
beautifully
with push
each
thuh wind
bendz
with mine
each
push
hern harvest'en
with ourn
each
swerve veer bend
seed'did
lock'd
wind traces
patterns through the grass,
showing how
paths can shift~
yet something in the earth holds
what we choose to keep
He stands not stiff, not resolute, not determined
a pole up his back, in corn field full of angry crows
no one notices him and he cares not a whit
He holds down his position not due to duty or abilities
Circumstance and birth keep him in this muddy place
He does not try to leave, never thinking he could.
Wishing he had a brain.
Gently, on a baked ceiling of a field
a boy ruffles my fluttering shirt
like a naughty, vagrant wing,
and picks a baseball on the grass…
this smaller kid of almond eyes
clutches it with deep longing to play,
but he could not; his wounded legs gave way.
Yet, he claps and screams like all gamers
such a radiant joy with wobbly feet,
that I liven him up to pitch for one round,
while the team rallies for a winning ride.
Taking in the fire of the crimson day,
this lean figure of almond eyes takes his spot
the crowd wheezing, ' take it home! '
grasping the orb as if it were a white globe.
In a precise twirl, the fast ball reels
curving much higher, splitting the air
until those limbs swivel off freely…
the batter out: through joy and pain,
one young limping boy of summer’s dream
becomes a brave, victorious man
that in this park's recreational feat...
he's never going to be the same again.
My heart is gladdened by warmth
Of expanding gratitude and zeal,
For God’s provision in our cosmos
Of a powerful and beautiful field.
It embraces with all comfort and joy
My armature of incarnate substance,
As I go about this very terrific circuit
To deify indeed the Creator’s existence.
With a whole galaxy of devotion,
The mission continues to run its course.
It continues to pursue an endless reward,
Spinning about to the pulse of life force.
Hop aboard the Magic School Bus,
There's no time to make a fuss!
Shrinking down to tiny size,
Right before our very own eyes.
Zooming through a drop of rain,
Riding on a hurricane!
Sailing through the ocean deep,
Where the giant squarks play hide-
seek.
Off to space to touch the moon,
We will all be back by noon!
Learning science, having fun,
Buckle up for everyone.
Loneliness is a dry field of brambles
that lies before the empty eyes of the lost
where there is no path seen to follow
and no answers to be found
yet, wisdom learned is a point of measure
where decisions are made from past mistakes
to lead the lonely out of the wilderness
if the heart will trust the mind
to see a path forward
and begin to leave loneliness behind
Love’s Field Into the Future
Kevin Davis, 2026
The friends — Lady, Buzz, Needles, Sweety —
Returned each day to Love’s Field, freely.
They met old friends and new ones too,
And danced with all who wandered through.
Love’s Field was found by hearts that cared.
Ladybugs, flies, bees, hummingbirds shared .
The sky above; more creatures came,
Drawn by love and called by name.
Its magic left a golden heart mark
On every soul — a shining spark.
Old friends found hope, new starts began,
And flowers welcomed every one.
Love’s Field spread wide across the earth,
Awakening love, renewing worth.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.