Long Headwaters Poems

In backyards of my history
lies a tidal river
of ebb and flow revolutions.

These revolutions are normally no-news evolutions
back up toward headwaters of crisis and opportunity,
diastatic and polyphonic purest capital boundary roots
for future's river flow investment
out-flowing down
from...

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The Nez Perce Indians who lead lean lives on these knolls and river brooks
have a style of soul that sneaks into the songs of the sun
and plays on the prayers in the patience of their...

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© 2011 (by Jim Sularz)
(The true story of Frank Eaton – AKA “Pistol Pete”)

At the headwaters of the Red Woods Branch,
near a gentle slope on a dusty trail.
On an iron gate, at the Twin Mounds...

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Legends speak of banshees of the blue briny deep, whom cast bewitching
Spells mesmerizing voice and song, beware youthful mariner for charms echoing
Beauty, may cause deceptions fall from grace, nay naivety’s innocence
Attracts creatures of passions folly!
In...

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"The 'Israel of God' is finished!
We have inflicted horrific wounds,
And we terrorize them further.
Their bodies are weak and brittle.

They are useless, broken jars,
Caught in the net we hid from them.
They wail like abandoned children,
Soon death...

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Snow-capped mountains fell to the floor,
Reflecting blurred images so much more.
The mountain lake absorbed the sight;
Random birds passed by in their flight.
The lake lay there oh so soft and sultry;
Nature’s maidens beckon from a belfry.
A...

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No! I Am Not Lying To You

No! I am not lying to you.
It seems Life’s turnings here and now contain
Inauspicious shapes of endless goings and comings;
It seems Life’s headwaters of the deep waxed well,
the great...

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© 2011 (by Jim Sularz)
(The true story of Frank Eaton – AKA “Pistol Pete”)


At nearly twenty-one, Pete knew he may have out-run,
his luck as the fastest gun.
This would be the ultimate test of his shootin’...

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That one's clock just winds down is my vote for time's end,
Though to run out your clock sounds like you have a choice,
Or that ego's involved, judgment's rushed, Grace came late.
But time's arrow is no...

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Headwaters,
Of the world’s flowing souls,
Cresting to flight and misting rainbows.

Everyone.
Searching for another.
To endure sacrifices behold,

Cascading
Heart’s ladles dip into
Basins of memories in plunge pools.

Waterfalls,
From the rapids of youth,
To the flat waters of golden years


----------------------------------------------
Contest: Some Form...

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Cicada Dreaming was told to Roland Robinson in 1965 by Julia Charles of the Yoocum Yoocum clans from the area around Wollumbin in the headwaters of the Tweed River, Northern NSW and is used with...

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There is beauty in this world that’s truly a miracle to behold.
Unexpected romance, that will turn your blood hot from ice cold.

I have loved with a passion that made fire rain from the night sky.
I’m...

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What a profound blessing is Mother nature
In its hands and human gratitude lies our future.

The birds in the sky. and the mountains so pristine and high
The trees are so green, and the streams and headwaters...

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Storms rain sprung on rocky clefts
Where springtime run-off streams are filled.
Where snows melts and clouds lift
The start of water generous gift.
Here the rivulet and creeks build.

Through the foothill small brooks run
On their track toward His...

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Rivers In Flood

Sprung from headwaters, source hidden in the past or sometimes present,
Starting small, 
To begin the journey downstream to where it may go.

Restless, searching, agitated.
As it sweeps along, building in force, and speed and...

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Writing is a river,
The headwaters
Springing from the well,
Bubbling up and out
Free-flowing
Falling and frothing white in the flux of development.
 
Writing is a river, 
Tempered by the banks of time and distance, yet
Moving steadily, flowing in...

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Winding past sand dunes
like shapes of a cratered moon,
the river moves and ibis stand
on stick thin legs in the grand
flow of the Nile.

Mississippi muds ooze through
headwaters overflow
down to the shrimp bayou.

Macaws call in misty dawn
awakening...

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Accepting the blood to drip
Solid stone
From these polished fingertips

Haiku

As defensive weapon 
To still the deep agony
That we wade through

Haiku

The voices children
Sounding, footsteps
That carry us
Past these dying 

Haiku

And make us able
To defend
us, And once again
Be om,...

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If ever you find
If ever you shall find
some happy burbling by
my warméd face...

It only can be
It ever only could be
a gift from upstream.
She’s the Headwaters of my Happy.
Her Light swims and flows
down from her ever-giving...

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