Long Due west Poems
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I cycled to Hawthorne before the dawn,
Saw a deer on Taxter Road leading a fawn.
I reached a field of the kids little League.
Waited for the train, too pumped for fatigue.
The train passed by lakes of Croton Falls,
At Ten Mile River I heard a bird’s calls
At Wassaic, calmed down on Deep Hollow Road,
By purple flowers, a little stream flowed.
I cycled due west, for an outdoor transfusion.
Wethersfield like Brigadoon, but not an illusion.
Up its hill I pedaled, a knight on a quest,
But the statues of centaurs looked unimpressed.
Fountains flowed and flowers bloomed bright,
Well-dressed couples in the courtyards admired the sight.
More statues, eagles and children and men
Could have spent more time, but if not now, when?
I took Schaefer Road, counted side roads till the fourth.
Then zoomed on the asphalt, on Smithfield Road north.
But what goes down must go up, to switch valleys you climb,
Though conversely what ascend must descend, in time.
[chorus]
When the roads are quiet, and above hawks play.
Down I swoop, a nearsighted bird of prey.
Fields spread wide, like a golden sea,
New places to explore, calling to me.
Skipped Salisbury, entered Sharon, took highway 41.
To Amenia and Hitchcock Corners, a load of fun
Down one last hill, was it me who gave a shout?
Stood on my pedals, like a kid let out.
[end]
Back in Wassaic, out drained the ninja esthetic.
Now back to my life, but that’s not so pathetic.
Six days I work, putting food on the table.
Then I’m a weekend warrior, to ride into this fable.
Page 2
The Shoot Out At The KOA Corral
The continuing saga of Zack Waverly
The mare was to far gone
and I had to put her down
There was nothing I could do
To help her make her back to town
When things have come to this
Life seems barely worth a trifle
As the only mercies' left
comes from what's inside a rifle
I saddled up and rode due west
Not to my destination
But, took a little detour
To make an allegation
On a hill top, I approached
As the Sun hung at mid-day
and I saw a man, with whip in hand
strike a Dapple Gray
My poor horse, was exhausted
But I guess he some how knew
He reared up on his two hind legs
Then down the hill flew
I've learn to hold on tight
When Ole Buck gets inspired
I swear, His eyes turn black as coal
While his nostrils fill with fire
He raced to make a beeline
To where the horse was being beat
Then stopped outside the wooden fence
In the mid-day summer heat
"Jonah, stop it now"
Is what I shouted from my horse
"Don't make me come and make you
'Cause you know I can of course"
Jonah wasn't tall but a strong and abled man
and so I pulled my Walker Colt
and watched the whip drop, from his hand
HeeeeYahaaa, Partners Keep your Posse out lookin' for page 3
I wandered on a journey, in search of treasure,
priceless far beyond any kind of menial measure.
After weeks of hard trekking, 258 miles due West,
on 6/25 I lost my 20/20 vision. I needed a rest.
I was sick of the infernal heat on this tiring quest.
The warm breath of summer became quite a pest.
A coral snake bit me but I didn't cry and ballyhoo.
I ate him for dinner and wrote about him in Haiku.
I was singing my swan song; an ache in my breast,
so I gave up the search for finding that stupid chest.
Because of my selfish need for greed and pleasure,
I learned a life lesson. I've become a lady of leisure.
Views For Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Funom Makama
Posted on July 15, 2020
Poem Name: Warm Breath of Summer
Views: 258
Poetry Form: Haiku
Date of Publication: 6/25/2020
My thoughts breath, like a wave from the deep,
Some are fleeting and breaking too soon.
Others grow steady, becoming bigger than big,
With all of the help from the moon.
And just like a wave, that's out in the deep,
I can't tell which idea is the best.
My ideas are confused about where they are heading,
Like a wave heading east or due west.
To the shore my thoughts head, gaining momentum,
Coming together directly to land.
And like a great set of waves breaking to beach,
They wash up all over the sand.
The waves of my thoughts, from the deep they do come,
Some are huge and some are mundane.
I like my ideas that are perfect rip curls, I wonder,
Are your thoughts kind of the same?