Long Prairie Poems
Long Prairie Poems. Below are the most popular long Prairie by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Prairie poems by poem length and keyword.
Aquafirs miles away in my mind
warming with springtime sun
lapping upon the shores of my memory
sending involuntary movements to my legs
moving thoughts to music echoing in my limbs
Beethoven's 5th. Symphony catapults me out the door
into glorious sunshine
hiking trails, dormant for months (seems like years)
staring at boulders basking in the sun
touching bark on trees grooves of my growth
smelling the earth dug up with my hands
sifting my life turning my face towards the sun
warming tidal planes in my mind
recalling the ebb and flow of me upon this land
marking my scent in the woods (as men do)
tracking the sun as
it moves across my day foraging sprouting edibles
as earth releases life
pausing to lay down in prairie grass and nap
in sweet scented dreams refilling all my senses
for the journey...
I have still to travel
I have still to travel...
03/29/14
© All Rights Reserved
Now the twilight was gone
As we arrived at little Utah inn.
At the edge of the vast prairie.
We rested well savouring the bliss
Of a quiet night away from the city.
Yet early in the morning we woke
To the sound of hooves pounding
Of the dust covered bison which ran
Across the shrubby prairie,
Leaving a large cloud of dust.
Time for breakfast, delicious and tasty.
From our window we could admire
The evergreen red cedars and admired
The tall forest of American Arborvitae.
But my love was fascinated by
The cultivated Saucer Magnolia.
We decided to hire a guide and leave for a park.
We were sure to see birds flying.
Colorful and warbling to our delight.
The Reddish Egret caught our fancy
Though the Sapsucker could compete its song.
But now twilight was descending again
So back to a delicious evening fest.
How we’ll rue the time when
We had to turn back to noisy city unrest.
She was big-boned. Her spirit
a fine-spun sprouting of prairie brome
threaded through moss and engine block.
Her home was a pine and beatboard camp
for wayward cats.
She would discourse from her tangled porch
where poems grew in small pots
muddled with Ramen noodle and Maui Wowie.
Her life often vacationed to a studio apartment
on the east bank of her right eye.
She wrote on the back of her mouth
with cigarette smoke.
Her poems were the rain-filled footprints,
of Jack Kerouac.
She had pronouns before and after her name.
She wore a local fame, made legendary
by the gaps in her thoughts,
thoughts she shrewdly refused to fill in.
Miracle
It's a long way from Heaven
Such a long way to fall
And the ground is the place
Where things shuffle and crawl
Where once there was safety
And the comfort of love
Now freedom , it seems
Takes a maternal shove
As the bird flies the nest.
As the savanna calls.
We must join with the rest
For the fame of those halls
For our story, unique
To be told at the fire-side
We must choose to compete
Not just sit at the ringside
All of that said
Though survival is key
There has to be more here
For you and for me..
So ponder on this
As you set on your journey
There's so much to miss
So much wonder and beauty
Every step is miraculous
Life's oasis, our drink
The distance from Heaven
Not as far as you think
So stop in your wandering.
Survey all that there is..
The vista, the creatures,
All the gifts that are His
Every blessing and favour
Every smile, every breath
There's a life that's worth living
From our birth to our death
If the journey is short
Or the journey is long
Hum your own tuneful music
Write the words to your song
Though the wilderness beckons
And the life ahead scary
Soon your legs will be strong
As you master this prairie
And when all of the stuff
That you learn on the way
Finds a home and a purpose
You will look back and say..
That nothing was wasted
Every stumble was gifted
So the next generation is
Encouraged and lifted.
Jinjagoliath
6th August 2021
On The Range
You are an old cowboy now.
Your bronco riding and rodeo days are over.
You now mostly drive a pick up truck or ATV instead of a riding a horse.
You drink you whiskey straight, and your cowboy style coffee black.
You don't smoke any more, but when you did you rolled your own cigarettes and lit them with wooden matches.
You got your tobacco from a white pouch with a yellow pull string that you kept in your shirt pocket.
You wear blue Levi's and a leather belt with a silver buckle, and white straw Stetson hat with
a woven white, black and turquoise hat band.
You wear cowboy boots with riding heels and a shirt with pearl snap buttons.
You keep a blue bandana in your rear pocket to wipe off sweat and act as a face mask in dust storms.
You have worn chaps, fixed a barbed wire fence, and know about droughts. blizzards and prairie fires.
You still ride a horse, can cut a calf out of a herd, and like your father before you own a Colt six shoot revolver and
a 30-30 Winchester lever action rifle.
You have heard stories of massive Texas Longhorn cattle drives up the Texas-Montana trail in the 1800 hundreds,
and when you do, you wish you were born a hundred and fifty years earlier.
Like you ancestors before you, you make your living raising cattle and enjoy watching the sun come up.
Long ago you learned to appreciate the blue sky and openness of the high plains with its
yellow prairie flowers, purple sage brush and tumble weeds.
You have heard the howl of a prowling coyote, and the harsh caw of a magpie.
You have seen wild prong horned antelope, prairie dogs, cotton wood trees and,
beautiful night skies filled with a million stars.
Now in the shadows a figure hides
Unmerciful rain collapses on my rooftops
The mind struggles to recollect lost senses
You take me on a victorious voyage to the Island of Paradise
Riding the waves of my intuition, I call for it
“Bring us the light at the end of the tunnel,”
I holler in the shade with Niagara Falls of hope
I hear you call to me gently in the dead of night
Why hide in the dust in the shame of frivolous defeat?
We graze in fields of forever gracious flowers as we lock hands
Don’t you worry—my patience is instilled in the dark
You elevate me higher than the clouds drifting wistfully
I trace your outline as my eyes acquaint with mystery
We have a slippery escape—a ride on a dolphin’s back
Staring…filled by the watery cadence
We sing merrily as we approach the trail of vitality
Trampled that you cannot accept my trust
The waves of the ocean bubbles us up with rare grace
I trace a detailed picture of you in the air
We ran faster than the breeze, rapidly brewing
I sketch in your panic eyes, furrowed gaze—and sigh
Give us words of wisdom to uplift our troubled souls
Not a cringe of movement, yet still I wait to create
We have to leap into the ring of fire—but how?
Imagination brought us together—now shadow, come out!
Let us be brave like the lion in the prairie…send us strength
Collaboration by my sister, Laura Breidenthal and David W. Breidenthal
*Laura: note: We wrote line after line without seeing the others' lines, and it actually came out quite nicely I think. : ) *
*David: It came out awesomely!!! Thanks for a well-written write with you, Laura!! xD *
April 28, 2014
Sam Mud
Mafia dawg
Prairie Rebel hound Soggy dog Carter
Crumpled can of
Faces on a map
A map with lonely corners bent and creased
Roaring fish at opening
No more bedspins
Not even a bed
while living to belong
Follow the fortunes to the sun
West Coast pacific
Island up Busters
Dump scenes from Cotton Creek
I watch with painted eyes and a helpful smile
A burning cigarettes
Keeps time
Sacrificing my soul
To free the world
Not a chance
Islands in the sky
When the ozone decayed
Friendships all time
headlights shine
Like passing eyes Delicate sinking spear
A poor man rounds
The world got flipping and this towns went dead
Losing that connection connection between my eyes and my heart
Already lost my Chakra
Talk to me its the greatest day
Somewhere we lost what was a fierce embrace by the wind
As we fade to white
The house killed
All that remained
Far from the furthest truth
In your side of town
Love is served
With a side order of generousity
In this small town
Rolling hills passed the quarry alone in the pasture at last everything stops
Protesting my lonely eyes with your perky smile
If you dont believe
With hands held and face down
We burned with molten desire
Packed our bags left this town
Did somebody have an ace up their sleeve
Or were they just winning too much
But we were family
Drink played music charade
More to ignore
In fact the better it gets
One could be guess As somebody got hurt
Someone got killed
The grasshoppers leap up with every step
through the mess of forbs and grass at my feet,
some thornier branches scratch at my boots,
ticks frown when they see my blue, denim pants,
they’ll have to go elsewhere for their dinner.
The mountain-bike trails are not open yet,
wide slopes are silent, save bird-song and bugs,
splashes of color, mostly yellow, abound,
flowers feed bees on their endless patrols,
the deer love new growth, but flee midday sun.
I feel it, on my back, on my neck, close,
the big hat shields the face, but I still sweat,
almost like I’m hiking in the prairie,
but no trees also means such awesome views,
usually I see them frosted in snow.
Above, on the ski lift, the chairs do hang
like metal ghosts, haunted by the spirits
of families that rode them months ago,
their towers silent, steel sentinels; tall…
remember to get clear if there’s lightning.
My thighs don’t hurt, no, it’s all in my calves,
different muscles from a normal trail hike,
I’ve drank too much water, but I make it,
cooler air of altitude braces me,
green New England rolls out before my eyes…
Into the badlands we travel with hearts full of infinite hope.
Ecosystem in this national park fosters four hundred species of life.
Sedimentary layers of pink, tan and white look like soap.
Into the badlands we travel with hearts full of infinite hope.
Oglala Lakota people named it land bad as they learned to cope.
Ghost dances are performed there around indigenous fires of rope.
Black footed ferrets are chasing prairie dogs who understand strife.
Into the badlands we travel with hearts full of infinite hope.
Ecosystem in this national park fosters four hundred species of life.
Written 10-25-2020
Contest: Pick a Title Vol 24 Triolet Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
I’m a roving cowboy atop the finest steed
I look upon this arid land with nothing here to eat.
But used I am to open spaces and arid lands to boot
So even if you see no pack be sure I 've got me food.
In my hat 'pon my head a B- sits mighty fine
It’s the Bible ‘pon my head…my companion, my friend.
In my ears the wind doth blow whispers from above
Messages of love sent to me from the Great beyond.
The beat of my horse's hoofs clip clop in three fourth's time
Reminding me to take life one step at a time.
In my hand the horse’s reins a leather strap with links
Reminding me that gentle communication’s the key to every thing.
In my pocket a few meager coins jingle all the way
Reminding me that earthly riches last only for a day.
To the spurs upon my boots the prairie grass doth cling
Reminding me that I am one with every living thing.
Now I lay me down to sleep my head upon a stone
May God watch over me this cowboy far from home.