Long Southbound Poems
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It seems we said hello, just yesterday
Do you recall the night you came to town?
You blew in silently, I hoped you'd stay
Time really flies when old friends come around
When you leave here, I guess you'll be southbound
I love the pretty blanket left for me
Those yellows mix so well with red and brown
It will make such a treasured memory
Yet when you've gone, how diff'rent things will be
So cold and bare, your warmth will disappear
It happens ev'ry year so let's agree
We'll plan a longer visit for next year
Sweet autumn it is time to say goodbye
I wish you'd come next year about July
by Daniel Turner
Spenserian sonnet rhyme scheme
ABAB BCBC CDCD EE
A man, quite renowned, came into our town;
He tried to expound on matters profound.
He frowned when he found as he tried to expound:
drowned by the sound of a hound in the town.
This was indeed a hound most renowned!
The sound from this hound, when on a rebound,
knocks a man down in a mound on the ground.
He looked all 'round: northbound, southbound, eastbound, westbound.
Nowhere he looked could that loud sound be found:
the fairground, the playground, the foreground, the background.
Finally he found himself down at the pound.
A foxhound, a coonhound, a bloodhound, a greyhound:
all of these hounds could be found at the pound,
but none of the hounds made that kind of sound.
A boy came around and said while he frowned,
his puppy was wound up, would not settle down.
"Your little dog too! Ha, ha," he clowned.
A little chihuahua made all of that sound?
Well, he dropped his jaw when he heard the chihuahua.
Now, he expounds on this hound most renowned.
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For the Nursery Rhyme 3 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
Written on 04/14/2022
A frothy mist shrouds the ground
A cool breeze drifts all around
A frosty chill doth surround
Solar rays no longer resound.
A plethora of colored foliage aboveground
A web of tangled, rotting roots underground
Chelones, Mums, and Golden Rod abound
In gardens bright, colored gourds propound.
Ragweed pollens and mushroom spores confound
Leaves metastasizing with brighter hues redound
Stealthy Evergreens emerge into the foreground
Maple taps their sweet syrup doth expound.
Migrating birds skirting cooler air are southbound
Doting Wasp Queens from dying nest bound
Honey bees cradle in warm, colony compound
Squirrels Summer store will carefully impound.
Form:
I wrote this as I travelled my life not sure or knowing where I have been.somewhere down a southbound track I made my way through counting down the memories of a recent broken home. I only came back counting these memories full of heartache and blues as I carried a long way through. Nor knowing what's in store never needing anything more with a love that's dead and gone of this recent broken home.so As I stop and think it over with all this precious time borrowed too,what can I say or what must I do as I came home counting down the memories of this recent broken home full of heartache and blues with a picture of me and you.(back to into).
Watch me
Watch me as i walk around.
Your eyes see one, your brain sees another.
Watch me as you fantasize, i might consider.
Sitting up higher to get a profound view.
Watch me as you lead yourself southbound.
Get a little closer to really imagine what’s against the nylon.
Watch me as i lead your eyes into the little room, boiling from the heater.
Keep me quiet like your perfect secret.
As i trace my fingers along the edge.
Watch me as your glue adorned my cheeks.
You grew just by touching me, my skin.
Watch me as i catch you dreaming.
Question you about what you were thinking.
Make me get on my knees like a preacher.
Watch me as i make your fantasies come true.
Watch me as you make me yours.
Coffee is a reasonable substitute
for spirit possession.
Surely your heart will tremble,
open the gateway
for earthquakes to exist
within the fault lines
of your fingers —
but at least your pants will be piss free
when the officer asks you
to dance along the straight line.
And when he asks, “are you nervous?”
you’ll respond in the affirmative.
Explain how since 1996
you’ve been waiting for the day
an asteroid directly impacts your car
as you sip espresso
heading southbound on the I-10,
on your way to work.
And you won’t have to explain to your coworker
why your pants are missing,
ass in the air,
bad decisions spilled
on the fresh mopped floor —
dreading the ride in,
knowing he knows
you’d never compete
with his fresh ironed shirt.
This morning I chose slow drip,
because life moves fast enough.
We piled into the car
Caleb and Mom in front, me in the back
We weren't planning to go far
A nearby arboretum off the beaten track.
We went north, there were many cars each way
Saw a motorcycle downed, someone’s luck had failed
Amidst the empty southbound lane, there it lay
A journey interrupted, a life derailed
There was a police car, yellow tape and debris
Turned out the driver was badly hurt, but not dead
Still, I couldn't shake the vision when we walked among the trees
Of his narrowed future in a hospital bed
I read up on him later, a harried man in much debt
How it all happened, nobody quite knows
They've cleaned it all up, how soon we forget
How in an instant, so many doors can close
We walked the boardwalk through maples and pines
My family smiled; Mom was proud she could do it all
I couldn't shake the subtext between the lines.
So many differences before and after that fall.
Twenty walkers a day died last year; a fate not deserved
The drivers must feel guilt that can’t be shed
My brother’s friend tried a U-turn but another car swerved
His fiancé was hit, said “Goodbye “and was dead.
Too many have departed on the roads we travel through
Last year 6000 motorcyclists lives abruptly ended
42000 car drivers met their last rendezvous
And as we all know, death can’t be mended.
I visited the parents of a Christian friend
They impressed me as warm and kind
Then I heard that while driving they met their end
He was too old; he didn’t react in time.
I hope human innovation can solve the problems it creates
Perhaps the answer is the self-driving car
It's hard to give up control, but sudden danger waits
We don't need more reminders of how fragile we are.
cold as ice with the heater on
the aspirin causes me to bruise
like murky water mirages on a ceiling of used stars,
i become lost in thought as the scent of you makes me float on air
i believe that i am immersed in the confetti convention of my makeshift reemergence
icicles form on the tiny tips of my mustache
every breath that i take burns from the consumption of your irresistible image
one false stroke southbound and it is suddenly summertime
the dunes where many memories were made has dissolved into a sandstorm diary of misty remains
every current upcoming morning stings like disposable razors of surefire frigidity
my phrase called 'talk' are run-on simple sentence jumping over rusted hurdles of shame and regret
hot as hellfire with the window fan on
the pradaxa causes my blood to be just thin enough....to cut the heater on again
I will watch their winged endurance, on the crest of autumn's eve,
without knowing where or distance, but in faith they must believe
As the harsh breath sounds of winter are calling geese to leave
I will hear songs of assurance, gliding low against the breeze
I can hear inherent partings, as they form into a V
And they soothe my doubtful worry, as they fly the crimson sea
Lifting eyes, I follow upward, as they cluster into line
With necks stretched long and southbound, departing with a sigh
With constant proof, year after year, their calling fills my ears
Sent here by the grace of God, in a race against my fear
While their promised songs may sadden me, and tears to eyes will bring
Their steadfast return assures my heart, to believe tomorrow's spring
"Doubt your doubts before you doubt your faith."
______________________________________________________________
NOT MANY KNOW OF BOXCAR JACK
WHO LIVES ON A TRAIN GOING WAY BACK
HEARING THE SOUND OF THE CLITITY CLACK
THAT COMES FROM BEAT OF A NORTHBOUND TRACK
WELL BOXCAR WAS A MUSIC MAN
PLAYING HIS GUITAR WHEN HE CAN
STRUMMING OUT A HEARTFELT TUNE
NEVER STOPPING NONE TO SOON
BOXCAR WAS ALSO A LADIES MAN
HAD THEM SPREAD ALL OVER THE LAND
THEY LOVED TO HEAR HIM SING HIS TUNE
THE RASPY VOICE WOULD MAKE THEM SWOON
THEY’D DRESS HIM UP AND FEED HIM WELL
A HOMELESS MAN YOU’D NEVER TELL
A DAY OR TWO HE’D SING HIS SONG
WHEN RESTLESS CAME HE’D THEN BE GONE
HEADED DOWN THAT SOUTHBOUND TRACK
HEARING THE BEAT OF THE CLITITY CLACK
DREAMING UP ANOTHER SONG
OF LOVE GONE RIGHT AND THEN GONE WRONG
I MET BOXCAR WAY DOWN IN MACON
LOOKING SAD AND ALL FORSAKEN
I ASKED HIM WHAT THE PROBLEM WAS
WHY THE TEARS, WHAT WAS THE CAUSE?
BOXCAR TOLD ME IT WAS LOVE
A GODDESS BORN FROM UP ABOVE
A GIRL SO SWEET AND SLIGHTLY SILLY
WHOSE MOTHER CALLED HER LITTLE MILLIE
BUT MOMMA TOLD HER HE WAS WRONG.
HE DIDN’T SING THE PROPER SONG
NO JOB HAD HE OR DOLLAR BILLS
TO KEEP HER WARM FROM WINTER CHILLS
SO BOXCAR’S ON A WESTBOUND TRACK
TO HEAR THE BEAT OF THE CLITITY CLACK
A BEER OR TWO HE WASHES DOWN
AND THEN THERE CAME THAT SIMPLE FROWN
AND AFTER SEVERAL HUNDRED MILES
THE FROWN TURNED INTO HAPPY SMILES
AND SONGS HE WROTE IN PASSING TIME
OF LOVE THAT HAD NO ENDING RHYME
HE ENDED UP IN KANSAS CITY
LIVING WITH A GIRL SO PRETTY
DANCING IN A SATIN GOWN
SHE LOVED IT WHEN HE CAME TO TOWN
HE NAMED HER IN A SPECIAL TUNE
HE WROTE FOR HER THAT NIGHT IN JUNE
HE TOLD HER THAT HE’D SOON BE BACK
AND THEN HE LEFT FOR THE ENDLESS TRACK
AND NOW YOU KNOW OF BOXCAR JACK
WHO LOVED THE SOUND OF THE CLITITY CLACK
WHO LOVED THE GIRLS AND LIKED TO CROON
ON A TRAIN SOMEWHERE BELOW THE MOON