Long Frontier Poems
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New Frontiers
8/14/2015
If new frontiers are what you seek
Are a TV freak or computer geek
Just look outside and there will be
New frontiers for you to see
There is a world not on flat screen
Not make believe on TV seen
It's waiting there you should partake
Just leave your house for goodness sake
The Homeless hungry you could aid
They will not bite don't be afraid
Talk to them and lend an ear
Cross into this new frontier
Another frontier you might try
Is to look your neighbors in the eye
Shake their hands and say hello
Might be someone you'd like to know
Imagine other new frontiers
That you might find throughout the years
These parting words I have to say
Technology's not the only way
for Tabitha
The sun wanders westward
towards the old frontier,
dragging its heft across plateaus
of New Mexico. Along Route
66, a quick toe-dip in Tahoe sets
Reno aglow. Quicker than that,
Nevada bucks, bankrupt and
rusted. The Hindenburg above
Wyoming, the sun gasps helium
and flame, desists in the ether
and disappears, leaving the
world, simultaneously teeming
with visionaries and traffickers,
to moonlit Pacific quandaries.
And so, it makes sense, Tabitha,
your winter scarf worn in
summer, frayed by the dull
gleam of lost pioneers latched to
your lips at their corner, wearing
you down with heavy freight.
But even then, I smile to see
your sadness, the way
you stack dark onto darkness.
Because, in all the years I’ve
known this street on which you
and I are talking, no one has left
me quite as you: facing due east,
chasing a vision towards where
tomorrows emerge from
obsidian snare…and you sleep.
"Nothing to Fear"
"We never know when death will come,
so I cast my worries aside.
When I first heard the news,
my heart went numb,
and then the diagnosis I denied.
Finally acceptance came as I cried.
Sands are pouring through the hourglass,
but faith now saves me from fear.
The beauty of heaven waits and I have a pass.
At God’s plan, I will not sneer
as I prepare to approach a blessed frontier."
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2012
This poem of Carolyn Devonshire exposes her faith, exclaims her trust in God, and expresses her perspective of death --- that it is not to be feared. I am personally blessed by this muse since it exhorts me to view death in a biblical way. According to 2Corinthians 5:8, “We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord.” Likewise, this reverberates her comments to my poems, which I treasure as a Christian writer in being “vocal” about my spiritual beliefs.
August 26, 2021
Contest Name: Celebrating Carolyn's Poetry: An Uncontest
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Close to election time, we have the chance
to hear the candidates for office speak,
or “stump,” in nearby towns, to give their stance
on issues and improvements that they seek,
to promise they will strengthen all that’s weak.
The term “stump speech” dates back two hundred years,
when it was not used figuratively;
and those of the American Frontier
who ran for office stood, for all to see,
on tree stumps while they campaigned movingly.
All-day affairs complete with food and beer,
these rural fetes were rollicking and loud.
The speakers then (as now) tried hard to steer
the votes their way and captivate the crowd.
By hecklers’ jeers, the brave ones were not cowed.
With jokes and boasts, some livened every speech.
Sharp jabs at rivals filled the country air.
As time progressed, some speakers chose to reach
the crowd, not from a tree stump—but a chair
or barrel. Such scenarios weren’t rare.
Historical accounts of stumping state
the names of stand-out speakers in that day.
Three skilled men who excelled in a debate—
Abe Lincoln, Stephen Douglas, Henry Clay—
were stumpers whose wise words held unique sway.
Today some folks flock to the county fair,
not just for entertainment but to see
the candidates debating with great flair,
expounding on the facts; but they won’t be
atop tree stumps to shout, “Please vote for me!”
February 1, 2022
entered in Emile Pinet's Quintain (English) Contest
It began on a high note
Dreams of a New Frontier
Those dreams were shattered in Texas
In the Fall of the same year
Christmas time was solemn
Before the storm there was the calm
We saw them escalate a war
Sending our young to Vietnam
It was a vibrant time to be alive
A good invasion hit our shore
The British sent their music
Our lives would be changed forever more
The times they were “a changing”
Was it better, was it worse
There was no time for apathy
Was it a blessing or a curse
In June came graduation
The fulfillment of our dreams
The Four Seasons sang about a Rag Doll
We were introduced to the Supremes
Now that our senior year was over
And we would go our separate ways
There remained a bond to hold us
Until our dying days
Some went off to college
Not knowing what’s in store
Almost all would serve their country
Some went off to war.
Our spring delivers magic every year-
the time when we applaud its wake-up sign,
as overnight new buds seem to appear!
The days turn longer, warmer- and it's clear
Forsythia splash gold upon the vine!
Our spring delivers magic every year.
Soon, yellow Daffodils bring us more cheer;
sway in the breeze- so graceful by design-
as overnight new buds seem to appear!
The Violets, on lawns both far and near,
in clusters form- with clover they combine.
Our spring delivers magic every year.
And, Dogwood trees stage for a new premiere;
with blossoms- pink or white, look so divine-
as overnight new buds seem to appear.
The spring landscape becomes a new frontier,
when winter passes, gives up to consign-
our spring delivers magic every year-
as overnight new buds seem to appear.
April 12, 2022
Contest: Springtime Villanelle
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Surrender have faith
True to the lions
The roar of life sits drinking Whisky behind a beaten down door
Saints of setting it right
When the horses look like skeletons
The pale rider rides off with the heads of the brave
Where them bones buried keep sacred for our glory
The brave go faster than a hot summer's day
When you lose control before the end
Before your trouble has been all dealt
When your breathe is frozen and blown away in the wind
Everything we haven't tried is now
But don't tie me down
A promise charade
Hooked by the crook of my best of by far a dreamer's frontier
I take what everyone else takes without the ice cream ..for crow
Abandoned the infinite starlight of delight
I got to make penses
I had sisters with love
I heard singing by the sirens peace only until all sung is sang
Perhaps like a lightning
bolt of clear out of the blue
rigor mortis (tenon and
three decades hence)
two thousand fifty nine if you
count from January 13th 2019, adieu
attest that day 9 months I did brew
in wound (of the late Harriet Harris),
now finds me loved ones
crying boo hoo,
after this stiff mortal
Earthling bid toodle loo
with symbolic casket
(carrying cremated urn of ashes)
remembrance attended
by gentile and Jew
sharing positive memories purportedly
about this nondescript
fellow they knew
mainly indirectly, poignantly,
and wickedly shot thru
with his insightful humorous scribblings,
plus magnus opus titled
"How do ye do,"
an informal rambling missive bereft
of any subject and
devoid with little clue,
the purpose of said hefty tome
out weighing The Federalist circa: knew
lee after American independence
Papers, written by true
purrs under the pseudonym "Publius"
but great (as a great doorstop), or
alight as tinder for barbeque
since many admirers never
read his text written in Hebrew,
fluency acquired spending
final years he grew
old, since automatic citizenship
granted based on genetic goo
plus Mediterranean climate helped promote
longevity to century his health did hew
thus naturally pronounced philosophy,
where he drew
quite a wide web asper the many
claims Matthew Scott did eschew
to maintain longevity (more
quackery than science), but who
could dispute glorious
principles, not to poo poo
analogous to placebo effect
harmless fervent coping methods,
whether to cure ague
interestingly enough he cited ack hue
puncture for a gamut of physical ills
as well he did advocate chew
wing food (after taking small bites)
until mouthful became pulpy slew
(proponent of Fletcherism), this to
exercise dentures in addition
to maximize stew
pen diss experience of simple
routine eating view
wing thoroughly good (by George)
said quotidian activity grew
tubby spiritual, similarly basic
functions in general did get skew
ward whereby meditation on intrinsic,
metabolic and scholastic
processes to name a few
added a dimension of enhancement prior to
exiting life into frontier mortals can only rue.
Masses forming classes boarding:
Corral Gates of slaughter, hauling, sorting- human beings-aborting
our innocent(sons and daughters)
Bishops Queens and Cannon Fodder-
their crop of sheep sacrifice to image of the Beast
es cargo for the Elite Machine; of
Underground in plain site, lined
in Streets of Gold of their El Dorado deep-sites.
Our lives for sell, sold.
Titanic-transport of souls clandestine sport of spoil
Moonlight witches pissing on fertile soil
Mid-night
Their platform of unsee able points of light inconceivable blight
A ship of fools run ary
By heretics
making waves rushing blood-*** noise Vampires sucking dry
Kendrick and Cyborg sex ploys
Buoys and curls pinging toys waving
Bye to your rights
While your eyes are sewn tight
As celebrity whores say "come get me boys"
and the message boards are alight
Why are you so dead inside?
River Styx is taking you for a ride?
You'd be at 666 Flags if Apathy was water, water on the brain slide
The Final Frontier
The Motive is clear
You've been contacted by Demons
By the "Art of the Deal"
In the guise of...Behind the sky's
glove...chemical lines drawn by mechanical sky d(r)oves, to obscure the happenings above;writers on the storm exhausting their lies and Political heroic acts of altruistic "Love" the "Dragonborn." The Kingdom of Mourn.
A Game of thrones a game of bones non_chalantly thrown.
Hung in the balance, drawn and quartered by AI Phalanx algorithm.
Clouding the mind.
Not seeing flashing signs-
"*** poison kind ...of malice-flashing in neon."
Hiding behind crown Masons-ring brotherhood blood and chalice.
Unplugged radar, telethon tears.
Honing your sites ip and your fears, cook and rinse till juices run clear.
Till you are stuck in the hole with Alice.
Why are you so dead inside?
River Styx is taking you for a ride?
You'd be at 666 Flags if Apathy was water, water on the brain slide
Hide behind your tools
Crafty handiwork to snoop
On the people for the people
Of who?
Of the Media, spoonfed search-the Wickedpedia
Omit what doesn't fit, the narrative
and feed- -retrofit the needia
Face condoms up when what you
are touching is as unclean, as Cardi D and the itinerary of the beast, riding another beast,
biometrics and vaccine
If the unbearable lightness of being has pushed you to the brink of catastrophic meltdown,
walk to the edge of our flat two-dimensional existence
and take a leap of faith...
You may drift through space for quite some time
eyeing the stars, the planets, the galaxies
that make up the great and boring universe beyond.
Eventually you'll come across darker, scarier territory,
unseen with the naked eye
yet comprising 95% of all matter,
and all that matters,
otherwise known as the unconscious.
Some day you'll feel safer in the void,
more secure,
at peace.
With not one mirror in sight to reflect your self concept,
everything and nothing make perfect sense here,
for they are one and the same.
You are the only observer
of man's true final frontier
and his one and only mystery.