Long Nighthawks Poems
Long Nighthawks Poems. Below are the most popular long Nighthawks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nighthawks poems by poem length and keyword.
You could see the lone figure in the pale, fading light,
Bedding down the doggies for a restful night.
He had been in the saddle since early morn',
Now feeling the aches of the drive that made him feel "worn".
The three other horses he had taken from the remuda that day,
Were now being tied and fed, as they whinnied and neighed.
"Woh, cattle...Woh, cattle", he sang softly to the steers,
Another six weeks on the trail and he would be filling his night with beers.
When the herd was quiet, the first 'Nighthawks' came,
He sighed with relief, as he tugged on the reins.
In just a few minutes he was putting his saddle and bedroll aright,
the grub made...biscuits, beans, and salt pork for tonight.
Then he unbuckled his gunbelt and laid down in his place,
Knowing full well, he'd be up before dawn to relieve the man on the trace.
It was hard work but he loved it, or so he said,
More of the Chisolm waited for them up ahead.
Yet it was the cows, the horses, the danger, and freedom he dared,
And those few other comrades whose journey he shared.
Yes, it was this "Cowboy Life" full of its highs and lows,
It was all that he needed, and was the life he chose.
I wasn't completely sure who I just was, so
I counted off three-chimes of the bell in the
clock tower.... I'm out late.... Nighthawks swoop
and Crickets hush their tensile ratchet, until I
pass by.
He pushed by me, cutting me off, as I pointed
towards the Hotel on the hill.... he could stay
there, but I would need to remain alert, focused
on matters close by..... like, why is pink my
favorite color? .... and, why are Dutch People
in art, always painted blue?
Doesn't seem fair... with no expectations, rewards,
or pressure, would humans naturally be of a giving
nature? ...... or selfish?
Read with image at my blog: purelandsutras.wordpress.com
Night’s shadow lours upon the world
And the streets are silent like the
Netherworld—without a single
Morning soul to be seen or heard.
But amidst the dimness is a lone
Lit nest serving toffee flavored coffee,
And as the jukebox sings “Do I Worry” ,
Wistful nighthawks gather to ponder
From midnight to twilight, minding
Only their lonely aloof thoughts,
And to be adrift in surreal reverie,
During this moonlit lull when the
Sun shines bright but in dreamworld.
Note: Do I Worry is an Ink Spots song.
Poem released into Public Domain
The beloved Queen of Hearts was a merry queen, who'd ever loved to bake;
Like confetti midnight stars, sparkling; or the yellow, noon sun, wide awake.
She baked myriad varieties of cookies, and delicious pies of different kinds;
And also scrumptious cakes, so divine. Like pure gold, tinted rainbows find.
The king had a cheerful disposition, too, but betimes could be quite stern;
Like the scarlet blossoms, which fail to thrive, before floriculture is learned.
Faithful friends became part of the many faceted court, like tinted bubbles,
Fancy dressed, and as vital to royal felicity, as a jade rose, with no troubles.
Forthright family were familiar at court, in the fleet, peregrine falcon days,
Fast-forwarding to fabled, fruity tomorrows, and to fitful, spiced, solar rays.
They lived in the house of green ivied walls, in the royal, emerald summer;
When golden sun visited almost every room, eager to touch a world of color.
Silver maples touched sapphire skies, on their street of red, sweet Williams,
Edged by creamy sand, where the surf came, onto teal, foaming, pavilions.
Nighthawks and wild wood anemones, were neighbors, bestowed by nature;
In nameless, never-ending, silvery hours. Red butterflies, loved floral flavors.
Heart tomatoes adored the orange sun, when wood ear mushrooms listened;
And Canterbury Bells plants were ringing, by roses whereon dews glistened.
Toad lilies stared in bug-eyed fascination, at the searing season of surprises;
And Billy Button blooms were getting dressed, as skies split in colored slices.
'The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts, all on a summer's day;' a Friday.
But alas, 'The Knave of Hearts, he stole the tarts, And took them clean away.'
When purple even arrived, 'The King of Hearts called for the tarts,' in a roar.
The lad relished sweets, but the king was mad, 'And beat the Knave full sore;'
'The Knave of Hearts brought back the tarts, And vowed he'd steal no more.'
The kindly queen quietly quipped, 'After all, the boy has never stolen before!'
The King of Hearts was returned to good humor, and that lad kept his word;
And was back in favor, like pink spring tulips, or a song of blue mockingbird.
Ah, faith! Golly gosh, life in the city!
Hustle and bustle n' a big metro wander
Exhaustion, life, anger and pretty gritty
Misty, grimy lights loudly grab a beggar
The sidewalk shops like a cold surround
Hot action, big ole' vanilla sidewalks
Graffiti walls, in dab color bound
Hot streets quietly grab nighthawks
Where is the sunny cloud vapors?
In downtown burg retreats
Out above on dark street skyscrapers
Crestin' over in mean dark streets
U' gotta love corner words
Chatter, rattle, natter, prattle
People jabber like yakkety-yak birds
Cigarettes gab under dark doorway shadow
Gazing in windows calmly at low down
In dusty, dry walk-in cafes
Grimy flowers grab at dead grass mown
Fish eyeing brutal building facades, near dead eye alleyways
Oh, noise!
Man like a machine
Never like a jackhammer that annoys
The faceless toiler that is mean and lean
Horn noise, action, in a 'crown vic'
Cabbies scowering for revenues
While crashing, dashing in street quick
O' life in bright light big city blues
Within the blah blah blah, heart of the city
You can endure all that jazz you wish it to be
These woods once rich with leaves,
brushed kiss from the wind then stolen by thieves
now latent boughs by snow.
Its touch glistening glow
melt tears, I think I know to watch allurement
flow its caress weaves.
Sun makes its way across
the sky sinks out of reach and wins the toss.
A peace in the wood walls,
stunning, once the night falls,
nocturnal creature calls.
Different kinds of loveliness emboss.
Dazzling glow, eyes of light,
a sea of darkness, stars winking good night
while nature falls asleep,
and nighthawks rise to peep.
Cold threaded fingers keep
on snowy evening walk, no one in sight.
Snowflakes resume to flow,
these woods within our grasp such wealth of snow.
The only sound's, the graze
of chilled wind wounds and raise
the fall of flakes that lays.
On a snowy evening walk tempting so.
12/25/2017