Long Denver Poems
Long Denver Poems. Below are the most popular long Denver by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Denver poems by poem length and keyword.
Clearly in my memory,
a moment of discovery,
in spiritual revery,
and I was not alone.
A kid, when I first heard his sound,
with mountains all around,
it was something new I found,
Country Roads had brought me home.
Two hours each way by bus,
eight hours washing pots, and thus,
life was hard, monotonous,
and the days were long.
I was just eighteen years old.
In school, I should have been enrolled,
but in my head, a voice of gold -
I heard Annie's Song.
Those were many years ago,
and I am moving oh so slow.
I don't have too much to show.
My life is almost done.
Too early, you said your goodbyes,
but you help me see it rise,
for my shoulders and my eyes,
the shining of the sun.
...It was two days before she lost them,
and an arrow slashed her small finger,
a small wagon train did take her in,
but a doctor found gangrene in her,
chopped her pinkey with barely a word.
Fever set in and it was two weeks,
she got so sick she could barely speak.
At Denver she left the settler crowd,
only to learn that Merlon was gone,
he’d been absent about two years now,
and his trapping has never been strong,
that he would’ve gone bust before long.
Celeste felt that her heart would soon break,
but she heard word he was in Salt Lake.
Once more on the trail Celeste did go,
through frozen and rocky mountains high,
taking hard paths she didn’t much know,
in those cold peaks she often did find
that her stomach was kissing her spine,
lost fifteen pounds in that rocky span,
but finally saw the Mormon lands…
She soon learned where Merlon was living,
rode towards his spread with a smile,
couldn’t believe this was happening,
she’d not felt such hope for a while,
and prayed for rewards for her trials,
but when she made it to his cabin
she saw a woman standing with him.
Celeste froze at this awful scene,
Merlon gasped and ran up to her mare,
he then cried out,”My dear Celestine…
Please, oh will you come down from up there?
You are looking half-dead, have a care.”
Celeste was too broken to shed a tear,
Merle just asked,”How did you end up here?”
She cried,”I came to find my fiancé,”
but said nothing of all the great harms,
the woman came up and Celeste’s gaze
fixed upon a baby in her arms,
she was too broken to feel alarm.
Merlon said,”But I thought you’d hate me,
I’m a deserter, so unworthy…”
She barely heard his words as he spoke,
feeling as if her whole life was done,
she couldn’t breathe, she wanted to choke,
Heard him say,”But I am now Mormon,
and God doesn’t limit wives to one.
Yes, my dear, I think we’ll welcome her,
another wife, to be your sister.”
The wife just looked on, her face quite blank,
Said,”Bring my sister in from the cold.”
“Ah,”cried Merle,”Our family gives thanks!”
Celeste numbly did as she was told,
she was soiled, and thirty years old.
not something most wanted in a bride,
so she let this man lead her inside…
Great people have one desirable quality~~
humility.
You won't find them looking
to be 'top dog'.
They are already accomplished,
and fully know just that.
They do not run panting feverishly to be
ahead of the pack.
Somehow the winds of the seas,
are the sails at their backs!
I've noticed how they move through
life so effortlessly!
Whether it was Buckminster Fuller or the
leader of the Tibet.
Or the late John Denver, or the great,
famed, late Brazilian, guitarist, Bola Sete!
When I met them, all had that one ineffable
quality.....humility.
Plus a love for all humanity emblazoned on
their hearts.
It's the insignificant, boastful others!
Jabbering or writing endlessly just
to gain a stand on life's soapbox.
And the worst, those who demand
my adulation.
How ridiculous these mice look
next to men of accomplishment!
May I always measure any of
my minuscule successes, to men
or women free of false pride.
As one of my highly accomplished
comedian friends, surprisingly said
to me:
"None of my success is my doing!
It's all due to the man upstairs!"
October 3, 2019
Some days are diamonds, some are stone
To quote an old John Denver hit
Truer words were never spoken
The “stone days” (not stoned days!)
Are only sent to us to test our resolve
And to appreciate the “diamond days” even more
To prove, that as dark or as difficult as life can get
There is ALWAYS a silver lining
Otherwise we'd all be candidates for the looney bin
Trust me, have I ever lied to you before?
Okay... well only a couple of times
And I was under the influence???
The influence of WHAT, you may ask
Uh, I take the fifth... okay here are some examples
Now let me see, watching a pretty girl go by
Or the government sending me an unexpected refund
Of a couple of hundred dollars YEEHAW
Maybe sitting down to my favourite meal
With my lovely spouse I've adored
Since the two of us were dreamy-eyed sweethearts
In grade school right up to the present
And now happily married with a couple of wee ones
Don't get me wrong, I do have days of stone
But my diamond days far outnumber them
So the bottom line is
Live, love, laugh and be happy
You only get one chance to travel life's highway
So ENJOY the ride!!!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Lost in a world of regrets and dejection
Struggling for an escape
But I am shackled between a rock and a hard place
With no key in sight and no help coming my way
I am trapped.
Flung into a world that hates me but needs me
A world with its foot on my neck
The more I struggle, the more the diseased, putrid-smelling member
Crushes nearly the life out of me
I am trapped.
The open road to nowhere calls me to liberation
But responsibility and maturity have
Placed a Denver boot on my golden chariot
And have stolen the reigns of my white stallion
I am trapped.
A sword falls before my feet
With the balm of relief at its tip
Beckoning me to impale
My already lifeless body
Onto its medicine
But God and hellfire
Prevent my eager hands from
Injecting my body with its medicine
I am trapped.
What did I do to be plunged
Into this perpetual prison?
The bars to my cell
Are far too solid to destroy
To whom can I cry out to
And how can I know they can hear me?
Who is able and willing
To rescue this damoiseau in distress
And how long must I wait?
How long my I hang my harp on a willow tree
And weep?
How long will it be
Until I am free?
I am trapped…
I am trapped…
I am trapped.
Colorado Cowboy Saga
Grandad became a cowboy,
Though born in the mountains of Tennessee,
His family moved to Colorado –
Just when he turned three;
Fleeing from the Civil War’s animosity
Traveled in a wagon ‘cross the wide prairies
Four brothers taught the youngest child
How to ride and brand
How to feed the cattle
How to take a stand
How to rope, how to ranch
And care for the land
He grew up tall and strong
Like the mountains of his heartbeat
In winter and in summer
They called his restless feet
And Grandad knew the mountains
Like city kids know streets
And with his pinto pony
Rode the mail every day
Nederland to Central City
Oh, he knew the way –
Sometimes frozen in the saddle
For warm weather he prayed.
Drove the cows to Denver
From high country fields
With sharp whistles and with yells
He stayed on the cattle’s heels
Through the cut at Boulder
For the sweet autumn grass revealed
When I was a little girl
On grandad’s lap I’d sit
He’d tell me of his boyhood
Cowboy tales true grit
How he loved his cowboy life
Maybe he fudged a bit?
The city was my birthplace
I knew and loved it well
But in my heart grandad planted
A cowboy song to tell
Though he dreamed of bustling cities
His heart bewitched by a cowboy spell.
True story.
Even though my grandfather became an entrepreneur, he never forgot his childhood as a cowboy in the mountains and prairies of Colorado.
1-31-21
Contest: Cowboy Poetry
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
When did
goodbye become a song
So here’s to
All the things
We never thought we’d say
Don’t want to leave
But we both know
I can’t stay
Too soon
tomorrow summons me away
Here we are
Awaiting autumns fall
Your tears tell me
Time has cast us apart
For far too long
Tell me, when did
Goodbye become our song
The bus awaits
My train departs
I’m away from home
These lonesome days
Spent in Oklahoma
Here we are
Just the two of us
Dawn awaits a touch of silence
Try and say
What it is you have to say
I don’t want to
But you know I have to go
Up the boulevard we walk
Sunsets, August fades
Are we at peace with our songs
You awoke
Passenger side in an unknown car
Estranged in this day
We changed in our own ways
Dixon Bullinger braced himself against
another frozen blast of winter wind,
riding through the front range to Denver
where his family was a-waiting.
It was morning on Christmas Eve,
and he was a long time overdue,
but Boss McChord had paid him double
to rescue horses from being consumed.
They’d taken out a problem bear
and had a drink to celebrate,
he’d exchanged good wishes with the boys,
then had set about upon his way.
He rounded a corner in a craggy gorge,
and there he saw a stunning sight:
Santa Claus sat on an empty sleigh,
brooding sadly amidst the white.
Dix rode up, and doffed his hat,
saying,”Father Christmas! What are the odds!
May I ask why you are sitting here though,
‘tis the skies that you usually trod?”
Santa then sadly shook his head,
said,”My boy, you don’t understand.
I stopped for a rest and was robbed blind
by a gang of five masked men!
“They took my sack and with it
all the gifts for the boys and girl.
if I cannot somehow get it back,
there’ll be no presents for the world.”
Dix frowned deeply at the thought,
a coldness creeping into him.
Christmas may have been more than gifts,
but try telling that to the kids!
He said,”If you’ll ride with a fool cowpoke,
I’ll gladly help you find the fiends.
A Christmas with no gifts to give…
that’s not something this world needs.
“I have some skill at tracking, see,
from months chasing stray cows.
If you point me the way they went,
we’ll lick these bandits, and how!”
Santa nodded and pointed off
to a narrow slot canyon,
“That’s the way they all took off,
when the foul deed was done.
“If you start along tracking them,
I will follow as soon as I can.
My reindeer are bushed from today’s work,
Donner is nearly all done in.
“But once they’ve had a breather,
I’ll fly them up into the air.
If you leave a trail for me to follow,
I’ll catch up and meet you there!”
Dixon nodded and removed
his brand new, red, silk scarf.
He cut off a piece and then said,
“This here is bright as any spark.”
With that he took to the trail,
riding down that rocky cleft,
to save Christmas for the little ones
he’d undue this savage theft…
CONTINUES IN PART II.
She flies on the wings of a dream
Soaring on nothing but a breeze
She's a free spirit with a sunny gleam
Her flight takes her among the tall trees
Soaring on nothing but a breeze
Riding the wind to catch another butterfly
Her flight takes her among the tall trees
Nothing can eclipse her joy beneath azure skies
Riding the wind to catch another butterfly
She finds a monarch on the far side of the hill
Nothing can eclipse her joy 'neath azure skies
Just a dream away she'll find another thrill
She finds a monarch on the far side of the hill
She's a free spirit with a sunny gleam
Just a dream away she'll find another thrill
As she flies on the wings of a dream
----
Songs by John Denver
On the wings of a dream
Nothing but a breeze
Spirit
Flight
Catch another butterfly
Eclipse
Far side of the hill
Just a dream away
Denver wheeling
Spinning,
Thinning
Itching,
Scratching
Black box shouting,
Pause recording
Stop stalling
Part 2
I want Air Force 1,
Fuelled and ready to go
At my command
Draped in invisible camouflaged
blue shadowed by red arrows
Part 3
I wish to see the falling angel
for myself
Viewed from 1st class champagne
in hand washing caviar and truffles
down
In questionable company
Part 4
Knock , Knock
What's the dark secret you
are keeping well hid behind
Black door with golden number 4
Part 5
Or more to the point
What's the actual cost
Per say in human lives
Or bribes to the contrary
Part 6-6-6
Taxation donated sponsored
Death becomes
charity / clarity
The devil's in the detail
Part 7
Why there is no,
Part 7
Can't you see
As at the stroke of 8 the white flag
was clearly raised and so to
with it the towel thrown in
It's all over bar the shouting
Extra , extra nothing left to do but
read and write and crow all about it
Service an agenda and ramp up
the recriminations
Renegade master,
Power to the people