Long Alaska Poems
Long Alaska Poems. Below are the most popular long Alaska by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Alaska poems by poem length and keyword.
Of all the places I set forth to see,
Alaska is the one I love the best.
The pristine ambiance of white, for me,
presents the calmness of a vision blest.
Alaska, with its rugged landscape, sealed
in swirls of snow and sheets of solid ice,
beneath a cloudless sky of blue, does hide
the ancient past below the vast white field.
The air turns crisp and cold, but that's the price
for feeling joy within this countryside.
So thrilling was the train ride that I shared
one day all through Denali Park for miles,
encountering the wildlife soon declared-
as elk and moose, while baby goats drew smiles.
The views seen from the windows and the dome
provided scenes of wilderness not seen
except for finding them aboard this train.
The greater way to travel through and roam
while tour guides point us to the unforeseen
like mama bears with cubs to entertain.
But, best of all, were the magic scenes I saw
while viewing from our ship in Glacier Bay.
With eyes wide open, I stood in pleasant awe
as massive chunks of ice broke clean away.
And, calving, as it's called, caused such a crash,
while creaks and moans of ice sang in my ears.
Large, rolling waves rolled in and rocked the boat
while foaming water formed with every splash.
Alaska- a thumbs-up and heartfelt cheers
grade memories of my time there, afloat.
Greed overtakes any prospector looking for gold.
Here I am above the Arctic Circle braving the cold.
The bitter freezing is enough to kill anyone young or old.
The river flows under a very thick sheet of ice.
Temperatures at fifty degrees below zero are not nice.
It is late morning, and the sky is a crepuscular gray.
That golden orb called the “sun” has gone away.
I won’t see it again for weeks as it is below the horizon.
That big husky dog with me is much like his timber wolf cousin.
To keep warm, chewing tobacco is of no use.
Anyone can grow a beard from frozen tobacco juice.
It is unlikely the subzero temperatures will get any higher.
Until I get back to camp, I will just have to build a fire.
Based on the short story “To Build a Fire” by the late Jack London
I WAS ABUSED BY MY MOTHER AND HER BOYFRIEND AT THE AGE OF THIRTEEN, THIS POEM REFLECTS THOSE HARDEST MOMENTS FOR ME. THEY RAN OFF TO ALASKA WITH FIVE OF MY SIBLINGS WHEN I TOLD MY GRANDMOTHER WHAT THEY HAD DONE.
She never had a tender ear,
she let me know she didn't care.
Always mean she pulled my hair,
no other mother could compare.
I once remember, but only once,
she held my hand with tender love.
I must have been all of nine,
the only good memory in my mind.
The man who crept into her life,
whom she protected with all her might.
A young doe was what he wanted,
like a deer I was hunted.
When he bagged what he'd sought,
out west is where he took the lot.
The coward ran from prosecution,
Alaska administered his absolution.
My mother never penalized,
the man who caused my spirit to die.
I forgave her for their horrific sins,
I wasn't going to let them win.
Today I finally realized,
I'm the one who won first prize.
an Iceberg and a reporter
Near a village in Alaska, an enormous iceberg drifted filling the bay with fear and wonder
A journalist in the local paper saw something moving on the top of the berg, intrigued he wanted to see what it was he had seen
A Sunday morning when the people sat in church, he alone, not telling his mum climbed the berg
we saw the photos of him climbing steep walls
of ice, walking on the latter part, and a photo of him looking down at the village
he saw many footprints and concluded that someone lived on the berg, but a storm broke out, he sought shelter in a crack of the ice
we saw the photo of him sleeping in his bag
and when awake eat a frozen pie
When the storm had abated, he found more footprints, but there are no photos to prove this
when he came back to the village and published
an article on his findings
Until a witty soul asked him if the cameraman was still on the iceberg
I was not looking so l caught her staring , at me .
I put two and two together and just like that l fell for you.
It was an innocent affair based on the admiration of souls.
We would just stare into one another's eyes .
I had her back and she had my back?
Like a coin we were one but not for the same purpose. You whispered sweet nothings in my ears so l couldn't listen to my instincts you Jezebel.
I trusted you , gave you the benefit of the doubt made a promise and l kept it , only for you to fool me .
It's all cool like ice forming in Alaska. I learned a valuable lesson not to ever give before receiving .
You carry the thread of red sentiment, a cord bleeding.
Each Volta you make is measured by its expanse,
and the walls elicit remembrance of the hurt,
reflecting your possessed pastel face.
This passage is not a labyrinth of pebbles,
but one of piercing rumors and cob-webbed roots,
and every step you take, you are drawn in place.
The features you embrace are impotent here,
sketched with ancient haunts and a legend of what was spoken for.
It is a point, not a principle.
The only winning way to move is not ahead, but to fall,
to the heart of the Minotaur that plagues your caverns,
the one you posit and feed with resentful meals.
Pardon is not the killing of the beast,
but the loosening of the blood.
It is the preference to look away from the features,
to feel the phantom weight lift from your embodiment.
It is the deed of offering that red cord an absolute, genteel tug,
not to drag them back, but to appoint yourself free.
And then, in the quiet of the freed realm,
you can listen to the fiction of a novel path.
Not a way alfresco, but a way through adagio,
where the walls dissolve into a horizon of spectral light,
and the labyrinth itself becomes a garden grown with gratuity, of staying alive,
for that is the only way out of the labyrinth of suffering, is to forgive.
Third Reign:
Her feeding heart and cold command
Enough to make you quit your band
Well, there’s only so much frostbite one can take
You’ve heard her bitter orders before
To leave your sandals outside her door
And go skating on the Ice Queen’s lonely lake
I’d save all my lovin’ for you
If only I knew what you would do:
Let me loose or condemn me at your frozen stake
I’d be a martyr if I could
And stand where the burning saints have stood
On the altar of wood by the Ice Queen’s lonely lake
It’s like a prison in this room
With the cigarettes and hot perfume
Something’s got to thaw out our mistakes
But I feel like a fish in a waterfall
One of these days, I’ll sprout legs and crawl
Away from the banks of the Ice Queen’s lonely lake
We’ve been up all night on this powdery binge
I can still smell the lust that the wind drags in
It’s the only habit I’ve got that’s worthy to break
We could check into rehab and seal the deal
And feel what the super-celebrities feel
Or turn the wheel straight into the Ice Queen’s lonely lake
Her reindeer are bridled; her peasants are gauche
They are starving in line: she offers brioche
But winning their naïve trust is a piece of cake
They’d float to Alaska to polish her nails
Come back bloodied and tied to her sails
Back from a crusade on the Ice Queen’s lonely lake
The bar of demarcation is set
Once etched in the earth, it’s hard to forget
So stand where the poor young Confederates once did shake
When our scorched-earth policies have failed
And your Mason-Dixon address gets no mail,
Just surrender yourself to the Ice Queen’s lonely lake
From Sierra Madre to Branson, Missouri
A blizzard is coming, she’s showing her fury
to you – this is no false alarm, no fake;
Like the perfect conquest of the abortion pill,
like the simple saga of Jack and J---,
It’s a cold moment till the Ice Queen’s lonely lake.
Mark Allen was ten years old, and his favorite things were trains;
Like teal moments after the storm, when colorful beauty remains.
Mark had a shiny, toy train set, and he was frequently adding cars;
As people often have dreams of travel, underneath jewelled stars.
Mark's Papa was a train conductor. He loved to manage the train;
And Mark liked to listen for its whistle, while playing in Green Lane.
Dinah was Mark's little sister, and she'd give her toy horn a blast;
As she looked out the window with Mama, to see the train go past!
Flashing stars began fading away, in the mystic aura of fruity sun;
And fascinating friends came to frolick, when skies turned lemon.
Fall finally faced the cruel fact, that beautiful flowers were dying;
As fervent family flew in with kisses, in purple dawn sun, shining.
Mark lived in the house of motion, in the halls of going someplace;
And redbirds visiting sunny window sill, like summer at the gates.
Stars shivered in sad winter, although they were sequestered afar;
On the street of spectral beauties, intense and somewhat bizarre!
New neighbors observed social niceties, as necessary as nostalgia,
Sharing their notions into nighttime, like aurora borealis of Alaska.
'Rainbow rose' still cried dewy tears, as 'inky fingers' wrote forever;
And 'chocolate vines' caused temptation, in velvety hours of leisure.
'Money plant' jingled its coins, when 'aeonium superbang' exploded;
And 'shoebutton' plants got fastened, in sunny glaze, sugar coated.
Mark dreamt of being a railroad man, like the father he so admired,
One coral day, when fully grown; for golden time never grows tired!
'I've been working on the railroad,
All the live long day.
I've been working on the railroad,
Just to pass the time away.
Can't you hear the whistle blowing?
Rise up early in the morn.
Can't you hear the captain shouting?
"Dinah, blow your horn!"
Dinah, won't you blow,
Dinah, won't you blow,
Dinah, won't you blow your horn?
Dinah, won't you blow,
Dinah, won't you blow,
Dinah, won't you blow your horn?
Children’s Christmas Flight
Gold bells sounded through the snow
Calm in memory above the Christmas glow
Girls and boys lined up just after lunch
Out in the school yard to meet Santa Claus
He landed in a supersonic crunch
Softly on the deepening snow
In a stealth space ship with toys and candy
Permission slips from each child’s parents
Were collected by the tiny elves
Before they entered the ship
To fly around the world
This was no ordinary trip
Santa wanted to take them all to Mars
And out among the stars
But he remembered what time it was
The clock struck Christmas right on the dot
Being jolly, quick, and good old St. Nick
Santa laughed with a Ho Ho Ho in red and white
Told the children, “This is Christmas night.”
Visiting stars and Mars will have to wait
Santa will be working hard and late tonight
He touched his bright red cheek to speak
“Who wants to go to Disney World with me?!”
There were twenty children there
Santa counted twenty hands plus plus
Some children raised two hands, to get the voting right
You can never vote too much
Santa retired the reindeer but only for one year
They have families too, living in Alaska and Timbuktu
Their vacation time was long over due
The new sled is this super stealth flying ship
It moves faster than a lightning bolt
We’ll all have lots of fun and then return you home
Before you even know it
Santa will have to return to work
No time for playing on planets or moons
So you better go to sleep real soon
Santa’s coming with toys for you!
Created on 11/23/14 for - Children's Christmas or Holiday Tale – Poetry Contest
As I near the stratosphere, I let loose
an untamed, raw rainbow
I pull on the tattered, worn ropes
of my hand-sewn hot-air balloon across
the hidden boreal quarry hill in the north
they rose above the nose
of a furious focus bear
and whack the back legs
of a swift white-tailed deer
on the tips of their fingers
they follow the wave's crest
gliding across the shimmering bay
toward the murky, muddy waterfall
I reach out from the wicker basket
to feel the wings of the migrating seagulls that fly south
I imitate their husky honking
before fading like a dandelion
awe-inspiring Sitka Alaska Sunset
I secure my spaceship to a sturdy sprout
relax on the radiant crimson ratoon
I mumble to the gray owl
"Who huh huh?" said the deep dock
spinning, spinning, swirling
the wind whirled the canopy away
as the scarlet sunset slackens into the starry sky
I let go of my bulky loads and flew into the stratosphere
without regard for any impediments
any concerns are left behind
above the clouds, I set sail
Written: May 20, 2023