Long Sky Poems
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I don’t have to see nor have to blink but, I like to think of your eyes as the stars in the sky. So bright it penetrates my eyes. It’s proven that it takes longer for light to travel to earth before we are able to see it. The stars are dead and lifeless but the brightness runs through it and we see their worth. I look up and gaze at them wondering how big and how bright they really are. If I can compare seeing them face to face.... I can describe your eyes to the naked face. Big beautiful and so detailed. It’s like I’m caught up in what everyone else wishes were their fairytale. How great God is to create your eyes, the galaxy to look up at and remember our best times. I remember the first time I fell in love and even my eyes pearled, and I thought to myself “How blessed I am to have him in my world.” So mesmerizing I get sunk in. I even got a daughter whose eyes are your twin. Even though they are different colors, so is the world, the sky and its many colors. Yes stars are an abundance of gas. And I also know NOBODY can see through you like I do, as if I’m looking through a transparent glass. Even if you’re away, I can always look up in the sky and say.... different shapes, sizes and many forms, You’re eyes in my galaxy are the only ones I adore.
EVENING SKY
The moon and stars lit up the evening sky
A comet slowly wandered by
I gaze at the constellations everywhere
Venus here and a scorpion over there
Leo to the left, the Southern Cross to the right
All of the stars brighten up the night
The clouds are starting to roll in
The thunder is making a bit of a din
The lightning strikes and the thunder booms
The clouds have hidden the stars and the moon
I love the sound of thunder and lightning
To me it is not at all frightening
And now the rain is coming down
The storm is raging all around
The storm doesn’t last very long
The wind above is very strong
The clouds are slowly dissipating
Now I can continue concentrating
On the moon and the stars again
They have returned just like an old friend.
A simple life,
Is all that we dreamed of,
To raise our families,
To be proud of the country we call home.
Our lives were interrupted,
By the rantings of a madman,
Who thought that genocide,
Gave him the right to eliminate a race.
So he talked a country into believing,
The color of your hair and eyes,
Made you superior.
They listened to him,
They believed him,
Not knowing what he was capable of,
And how far he would go.
Yet when they saw the Ashes,
Fall from the sky they turned,
Ignoring what they knew was true.
No one wanted to go against him.
So they remained silent.
The horror became present when,
The 45th Inf Div from Oklahoma,
Walked thru the gates of Dachau,
When they saw walking skeletons,
In pajamas begging for food and water.
The soldiers were so appalled,
And heartbroken they brought,
The non-believers back showing,
That no one will ever be silent again.
The world will know everything,
That happened here today.
For Sir Brian Strand's 1400 Poetry Contest
1 August 2025
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l ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
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/_\
// \\
// \\ iron fingers reach
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/_|___|_\ the clouds through memory’s stare ~
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//| |\\
///| |\\\ Paris holds its breath
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/ [___________] \
Like the laughing lavender sky,
Reckless as the dark night who aches,
Breathing gentle who makes hearts sigh.
Blessing away silence, so shy
And, dewlike mist never forsakes,
Like the laughing lavender sky,
Shadows in the mind won’t comply,
Beneath moonlit smiles, thunder quakes
Breathing gentle who makes hearts sigh.
Grace abides to never deny,
Twilight wonder calms, never fakes,
Like the laughing lavender sky,
Gentling hearts, love shall soon reply,
Beyond the night, stardust partakes,
Breathing gentle who makes hearts sigh.
Does the heart really know why?
Or is this the way for mistakes?
Like the laughing lavender sky,
Breathing gentle who makes hearts sigh.
when i was a kid i used to draw a blue line near the top of the paper
that was supposed to be the sky
it started off being thicker in some places than in others
but as the time passed i started to add clouds
and draw inside the lines
the older i got,
the more realistic the sky became
then i started adding rainbows when i heard about heaven
i wanted to make it pretty and happy for all those who have died
specially those who died alone
and those who died without love
i haven’t drawn the sky in a while
i no longer can,
not now that i have people who i’ve lost
i wouldn’t know how to make it pretty enough
—painting the sky
A wispy dream; a velveteen morning;
calming and serene; snow slowly drifting.
Storms now brewing over the Northern sky
blustery winter's breath I now descry!
Heavy coat and hat; battling icy winds;
animals in the barn; firewood to the bin.
Warmest blanket on the bed; old cat purrs;
knitted throw by the stove; toasty for sure.
Chores are finally done; time to relax;
snowflakes falling now covering my tracks.
Teapot is ready, steam rises up high;
biscuits from the oven; butter nearby.
Look out the window; hazy from the frost;
snow covers the pond; can't see where I crossed.
Inhaling brisk air; a late snowy blow;
peek out the door brings a silent rush of cold.
1/27/2021
All Yours Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
I often wonder moon
if you sing tunes ~
have you ever sung one for me?
Knowing the lyrics in your grab,
I surely believe that you have.
Your visage glimmers promise
whispers of life's fulfillments.
From your big screen, mystical notes
float sparkled excites down to me.
Mostly, like moonshine,
your moonglow
inebriates my full heart and lulls me
to an imaginative design.
Your brilliance persuades smiles to widen
or turn frightened that your yeses might
be hope caresses falsely styled.
Often, your quasar orb tilts
towards
feels so soft they surpass optimistic
and my logic runs off.
Your gleam was long ago deemed
a radiant obtuse muse, lighting
the globe’s hold of dreams.
Your otherness role is man’s gift.
You know all why’s comprising our lives;
we just need to know how to lift our eyes
towards God’s sky.
I ran with my dog down Mohican Lane
It was right after the end of the rain.
Moss grew on our old stone wall
I thought I heard an owl call.
The sun had set, but the sky was white
With a red edge still in sight
The air was clean and it was pure
I felt rich, though I was poor.
Azaleas bloomed, rhododendron too
Night gave them a tint of blue.
I thought I saw a coyote stalk
A deer bounded across, I slowed to a walk
My dog cowered, then got over fear
Everything felt new, everything was clear.
Streaks of fireflies, short lines of white
Crickets chirped, Mohican said good night
There's been a different white in the sky
Canadian forests burned, the ashes came by.
But there's the park on the hill that filters the air
Don't pick up your dog if you see a bear.
My brothers built a go-cart and zoomed down the hill
A wheel came off, and they took a spill
Also skateboarded, end up with a bruise
I look at that slope; not a sport I would choose.
When I come home from a bike ride, that hill is a test
It laughs in my face it says not yet can you rest.
But I turn into the driveway, panting like a pug
Pat my mutt, drag dirt on the rug.
Just another day on Mohican Lane
I hope we get another rain.
Once, there were buffalo herds,
then the white man came.
All business money-minds;
their hide market thrived
and then…no buffalo.
Once, the porcelain beluga,
numbered in the thousands.
Years of caviar-mad minds
depleted the pods,
to only three thousand, worldwide;
then, there were nearly none.
A-biotic oil hunters fracked
the oceans; earth’s crust.
Cracked by water and carcinogens,
That have, depleted too much algae.
Soon, there’ll be none.
No plankton and algae,
starves thousands of marine species.
Look ahead, fifty to one hundred years
and there’ll be no more.
Once, there were colorful coral reefs,
but demoniacal corporations,
have destroyed them.
Black sludge,
Oil-seeking fools, trusting fools;
have eliminated them.
Now everything floods and
there will be no more life.
Once, there were planets,
in Earth’s solar system.
The great destroyer, humans;
Have obliterated them all
and it exists,
No more.
Someday, humans will obliterate themselves
and then, there’ll be none left;
on the brown dwarf,
formerly called,
“Earth”.