Long Boles Poems
Long Boles Poems. Below are the most popular long Boles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Boles poems by poem length and keyword.
Just Beyond
Boles of Cotton-Fields
Rosethorn ... Where A Few Folks
Stick Together - For Good, For Real
Rosethorn: Famous For Its First Family's
Annual Ball & Bar-B-Que Grills ...
But Where Most, Barely Make A Living
... Paying Over-Dues and Bills
Rosethorn ... Over The Viaduct-Tracks
As Trains' Warning-Whistles Shrill
& Distant Echoes of The Drummers of
Rosethorn High School Marching Drills
And Hear The Poignant, Clear Call
of Owls & Crickets & Whipporwills
Just Outside of Rosethorn's Many
Worn-Down, Yet Open Window-Sills ...
O' Throw A Kiss On The Wind
Wherever You Find - You Are ...
and I Will Catch It Quickly ...
Beneath The Biggest & Brightest Star
Rosethorn ... Where Your Hidden Waterfall
& Memories - Froth & Spill
Where There's Hunting Frozen-Footprints
Thru The Woods In Winter's Chill
Rosethorn ... Your Abandoned Drive-Inn Screen
Cast Fallen Shadows On Movie-Reels
- Is Now A Vacant & De-Valued Lot ...
Where Teens Had Parked For Thrills
Rosethorn ... Just Below Those Sloping
Far-Away, Hometown Hills
Just Past The Steel Yard's Welding
and Sawdust Lumbermill ...
Amid Rosethorn's Namesake Flowers
And Transported Blue Jonquils
and Ropes ... That Hanged A Man ...
That They Said Raped Women & Serial-Killed
Rosethorn ... Where The News Station
Is The Local Cafe & Bar
and Overated, Glowing Personals
and Reviews In Its 'Telegraph-Star'
Rosethorn ... Once Rised On Blossom-Way
A Place Where Dreams Could Rebuild
But Now, Its Just A Stem-Cell-Site
The Young - Cool Their Jets ... Until ...
Rosethorn ... Is The Last Resort
But First Route To Remember How It Feels
To Travel Thru A Space In Time ...
As A Prickly-Pose, Stands Still ...
O' Look Up To The Night Sky
Wherever You Find - You Are
and I Will Be Watching & Wishing
On That Same Big & Bright Star ...
As You Keep Rosethorn In Your Heart's Horizon
... and Rear-View Mirror of Your Car ...
and Dried Between The Pages of Your Mind
... Wherever You Find - You Are ...
Quilled & Copyrighted ©: 5/6/2014
by: MoonBee Canady
At noon we sat down under a large old oak tree on a wild hillside with masses of rocks,
The day was very warm and I took off my knapsack and rested by the foot of an old tree,
Below was a spread of orchards, next to meadows, and the glades sat with watery mead's,
Above, a beech forest that stretched, many miles the greenery touching the white clouds,
White clouds in a beautiful blue sky, shapes constantly changing shape, in a light cool wind.
Looking around there was much to see, there were lapwings and golden plovers in the trees,
Down below in a meadow a carter was leading a pair of horses off to plough a grassy field,
Then a fox crept from a hedge into a ploughed field and dropped right down into a furrow,
On a flooded mead a Great Crested Grebe dived under the water looking for some fresh fish,
And the water looked like sheets of polished glass and the sun reflected great rods of beams.
The track we walked soon vanished and then lofty pillars of beach-boles with thick canopies,
The earth was brown, withered leaves scattered amoung small pieces of rock green with wet moss,
Here and there were shallow bogs with the 'touch-me-not' plant with bright yellow flowers,
A plant whose name gives significant caution, as where it grows, there is treacherous footing,
Legend says mountain climbers make their peace with God if they meet some in a rocky crag.
Half an hour's progress and we were going in the right direction the scene was impressive,
As we wandered through woods with no out let visible the shade was heavy, deep and silent,
Then through a gap in far off trees was an opening and buttercups formed a carpet of gold,
On a bough was a Goldcrest the smallest British bird, he hopped from twig to twig for insects,
Their tiny nests made from mosses and spiders webs, slung underneath the branch of a tree.
(A saddened heart of a dying....Piano)
Picture by Alan L Boles
You remind me so much,
Of your grandmother...child,
You have her eyes,
She too...was beautiful,
Just like You!
Yes...I remember them days well,
As though it was yesterday,
We spent so much time together,
Before she passed away,
I loved her so much,
They were...good times,
We laughed together so much
She...fell off her stool,
Memories memories
Thats all I have now,
She haunts me...still,
I will never forget her,
We were so happy together,
Always fooling around,
Making music
We worked well together,
Sounded great,
She was my song,
I was her key board,
The way she run her fingers
Through my keys,
I knew...she played
Solely...for me,
We were inseparable,
Sometimes she stayed
With me all night,
Falling asleep in my Arms,
I kissed her gently,
She never knew...how much
I really loved her,
I was just happy to have her,
And feel her emotions,
Our times...were special,
She came to me
When she was happy
She came to me
When she was sad,
Sometimes in anger,
I never minded
She was mine,
Her fingers run through my heart
Like a love affair of music,
Her tears would fall on my...keys,
If only she knew
She was the only girl for me,
She's in heaven now,
I know...
One day...we will meet again,
Until then
I stand...not so grand,
Not long now...
I'm fading quickly
Body decaying,
Every bit of song...gone
There is no tune left
In these old bones,
Don't look at me child
Leave me alone
I want to die.
She's waiting.
I have to go,
Wendy Jae
There's a chill in the mornin' air as autumn in Vermont unfolds.
Splendor is revealed as trees assume their cloaks of reds and golds!
Fodder shocks gleam in the risin' sun and 'punkins' sport a tinge of rime.
Crimson and yellow apples are ready for pickin' havin' reached their prime!
In yon vale peekin' above the mornin' mists shines the steeple of a church,
Towerin' above the riot of color of its guardian trees and a grove of birch!
Skeins of snow geese wingin' southward grace the pristine sky.
The serenity of the autumn morn is shattered by their plaintive cry!
'Tis syrup renderin' time as maple trees surrender their free-flowin' sap.
Their hardy boles again withstand the trauma of an annual 'spinal' tap!
Apples are 'pressed into service' to make cider for sippin' by a cozy blaze,
As folks gather on winter eves to reminisce about the good ol' days!
Crusts of ice begin to form on streams flowin' 'neath covered bridges.
A dustin' of snow is tinted by the dawnin' sun on the yonder ridges!
Along country lanes the sun casts its mellow glow in the late afternoon.
On moonlit nights majestic stags are silhouetted against the harvest moon!
Families bundle up against the chill to enjoy hayrides and wiener roasts,
And toast marshmallows over a roarin' fire and tell of lurkin' ghosts!
An Indian summer is welcomed - the comin' winter gales it will delay.
Autumn in Vermont is more spectacular than even Mr. Rockwell could portray!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
This sacred soil that once resounded with the musket's rattle,
Imbued with mingled blood of Blue and Gray spilt in brutal battle,
Now stands serene with only whisperings of the restless ghosts,
Of gallant men who sacrificed their all among the frenzied hosts.
Are those the sighs of vagabond souls heard with each subtle breeze,
As zephyrs rustle the dancing leaves of stalwart, guardian trees?
Is that the winter's wind that shrieks about Round Top Hill,
Or the screams of dying troopers, their fatal destiny to fulfill?
Are those the moans of men left to die, their laurels won,
Or the boles of ancient pines groaning 'neath the searing sun?
The wind wafts tall grasses that on The Wheatfield grow;
Could this be waves of spectral infantry, advancing row by row?
Lightning flashes and thunder echoes across the rolling sectors,
Reminiscent of once roaring cannon, now long-silent specters.
The battle was o'er with the repulse of daring General Pickett;
Thousands of souls lay dead on bloody field and tangled thicket.
Lincoln's powerful address yet echoes o'er that hallowed clay,
To honor heroes, no matter the color of cloth they wore that day.
Do their fretful spirits yet roam, wondering if they died in vain?
Rest in peace dear souls - because of you this nation rose again!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 4 the Fraser/Devonshire "Dazzle Us With History" Contest - Jan 2011
Life is a journey, sometimes it's juicy, sometimes stormy,
the more we live, the more we walk inn gloom and glory
some focus on the storm and they end up coming last,
some keep loitering around and the end up on the ground.
Life is a journey, some are so lazy or proud to start simple,
and they end up being used as a bad and bitter example,
those who walk amiss are either a warning or wake up call,
those who wait for a perfect start often end up staying small.
Life is a journey, with many bus-stops and one terminal,
at every stop, you will found simple and special signals;
but some men are blindfolded by fun, that they could not see
they end up taking the wrong direction...and ask "why me"?
Some road users are destroyed for lack of knowledge,
they rush into the road without learning what it takes,
life is a technical terrain, learn or you will get lost,
perseverance is the price, and a life crash is the cost...
Focus is the rule of the transit, slow or smart, forge ahead,
keep moving, no stopping, but watch...bumps ahead.
Look out for traffic lights, traffic officers...and pot holes,
so many warning ahead, why worry about broken boles.
Tighten your seat belt, the road is so rough...and smooth,
learn to face each day with whatever it brings, gloom or glow,
life is simple: live to love, laugh, learn and leave a legacy,
Let honesty, integrity, hope and hospitality be your policy
Late for work
Picture by Alan L Boles
Another foggy damp...cold day,
It would be like this...wouldn't it,
When I'm late for work,
Washed my hair this morning as well,
Had to put tons of hair spray on,
To keep it in place,
Thicken my mascara up,
It's probly running down my face by now,
I'm going to look a proper mess when I get to work,
Feel like I've been
Through an hedge backwards,
It's not funny...
Plus...sweating with rushing,
Don't really like walking...
Through lonely parks on my own,
But was rushing this morning...
What else could I do,
Didn't think...at the time,
But now I'm here...and looking around,
It's...a bit scary...so I'll up my pace,
There's no other people about...
I'm the only daft one...out here!
The trees are a bit creaky
An owl...hooting,
Making me jump,
Oh god let me walk a bit faster,
I'm getting scared,
I can hear foot steps...behind,
No...don't be silly it's just your imagination,
But walk quicker any way,
Heart...pounding...
What am I going to do,
If theirs someone following me,
How could I protect my self,
Still...a long way to go,
Hit them with my umbrella...thought!
I don't have anything else,
Sounds like a twig breaking
There is someone....out there,
Quicker....quicker
Dam...these high heels,
Almost...running now,
Why did I come through the park.
Did she...get to work......
What...do you think.....
Wendy Jae
Grey
Picture by Alan L Boles
Squirrel...flies...
Through the air,
Like...superwoman
In this life and death...
Situation,
Running for her life,
Speedily...jumping
From tree to tree,
Trying to escape
Vicious clutches
Of the hawk,
Yes...he's...hot on her trail,
And won't give up,
Oh no...she squeaks,
No time to waste
No looking back,
Please...please,
What ever you do
Don't look back,
What are you going to do!!!
Your babies are home alone,
Faster...faster
She says...to her self,
Faster...
Hunger drives him
Quicker,
And he's not going to stop,
Until he gets his dinner,
But...who will win,
There's a lot at stake...
In this nature game,
I know...
Life is so...unfare,
And poor old grey's
Babies will die,
If she doesn't return home,
But hawk needs to eat too,
Yes so unfair....
Swooping he ...tries to grab hold,
With his big sharp claws,
Getting closer...and closer
Very scary...mean and hungry,
Quickly without haste
She hides in a burrow,
Her heart pounding
Catches her breath,
He hangs around for awhile
Trying to get at her,
She scratches out at his face,
And he flies away,
Off she goes...on her away,
With food for the babies,
She was fine...this time,
But what will
Tomorrow bring.
Wendy Jae
(Save her)
Alan L Boles picture
Save her today
And tomorrow...will save you right back!
Can you help...she calls?
My child lays in the gutter,
In need of food and shelter,
Can you spare a penny!
Life had been cruel,
It wasn't her fault,
Her husband died,
No remaining relatives,
Once a proud woman,
Now destitute!
Please...she cries,
Don't walk away,
Don't cross the road
Or look down at me,
I'm human...
I bleed...I have feelings,
Don't say you will pray
Then pass her by,
Don't say it's her own fault,
She didn't handle her affairs properly,
Don't put her in prison
As a criminal!
One day...
Life could turn around,
Who knows,
What tomorrow...will bring,
Today riches and good health,
A lovely home,
Warmth from the bed,
Tomorrow you could be that woman,
Could you...humble yourself?
Could you...stand in the food-bank?
And receive charity,
We don't know...
Times are getting hard,
What will life throw your way?
We all need someone sometime.
A friendly word
A smile,
A hug
Someone hugged
Me today,
Showed me love.
It broke though...into my heart,
Thank you,
Because I was that lady
On the street
Today.
Wendy Jae
Oh, little chirpy squeaking squirrel
I see you always dressed in grey apparel
Swift as an arrow you can run
Watching you scamper the tree is fun
Is it when you are joyous and hale,
That you are seen flicking your bushy tail?
Along the ground and over the bough you scurry,
Darting up and down in great hurry.
Why do you arch your back and sniff the air,
When you see someone coming near?
Men seem to annoy and leave you in fear,
That you take to heels in top gear.
You live in the holes of boles
But rarely rest in those hollows
When the weather is warm and bright,
You forage food with all your might.
To beat the wintry days, you have many tactics
And it is a pleasure to watch your antics
You strive to fill your granary with nuts and grain
To this end, you are ready to take any strain
For you, living is the sole occupation
From labour, you never take any vacation
Seeing the manner you move and run
It seems you have so much energy to burn
How I love you little chirpy squirrel
Come to me, I shall feed you with nut’s kernel
Oh chattering friend, you remove from my dull day
All that can leave me in possible dismay