Long Westward Poems
Long Westward Poems. Below are the most popular long Westward by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Westward poems by poem length and keyword.
Yesterday evening the shivering and drenched birds
were unkindly tossed to shore,like a wrecked ship,
by violent,unexpected storms;
finally calmness is felt,at noon, over the inlet...
as soft and overlapping waves
roll through blazing reflections!
While another sunset is so anxious to go,
some lamp-post is triggered by an insolent shadow;
earlier the huddled pelicans sought safety
under the wide cherry trees on that hill...
to audibly utter certain sounds of compliancy:
will they be induced by a deep sleep, while
quietly awaiting darkness to subside
on the deserted and arid beach?
The silent birds are extremely weary
from their long,adventurous travels,
and nothing is more urgent than to doze
in the remotest place they chose;
and who wouldn't enjoy those lovely moments
of perfect and salubrious tranquillity...
by not being taken over by indulgence or necessity?
And who couldn't be gladier than the unrestarined retriever
sniffing the wet sand and digging deeper...
to stalk,with sharp claws,the scurring worms?
Across the broad channel so lively and colorful,
the speeding motor-boats are more resilient
to challenge the gentle waves of a calm ocean;
miles away,westward,the breathless sky-crapers
don't feign their beauty and supremacy
by looking less stylish or stupendous!
The stenchy and miserable homeless man
has already confined himself to a predictable fate,
but who can revel in someone's misery,
and not being the least shameful?
Finally the gullible wind is shifted to the east
by flinging clouds, somewhat too rapid to follow;
a police helicopter soars over the obscure bay
trying to reach its destination timely...
soon to disappear in the vast,twinkling sky...
already succumbing to thick shadows advancing so fast,
but the fearless lovers lay on soft blankets...
to indulge in their night passions shamelessly!
She is known as Honorable Queen Mother Nanny. The lady was so sweet as sugar candy.
Enhancing the fight, smiling with much delight, knowing her cause was right.
She was the awesomely true Westward Maroon liberation queen in the highest esteem.
Hailing from Ghana's Gold Coast as an Ashanti or Akan—"A free woman!"
His Excellency the Right Honorable Marcus Mosiah Garvey Jr. "Visionary Diasporan."
Founder, Universal ***** Improvement Association and African Communities League.
Created the Black Star Liner, forging the link between African and North America
Desiring to take his people back to their ancestral African roots, starting with Liberia.
The heroic grandfather, The Honorable Paul Bogle, says, "No taxation without representation!"
National Jamaican hero, Stony Gut Baptist Church deacon, and Morant Bay "Victor!"
Usually referred to as a "Shaka Zulu Pickney," an ancestral famed freedom fighter.
Proverbial singer Bob Marley uplifts his grace in the song "So Much Things to Say."
Faces printed on currency show the value of national and cultural pride—"None to hide!"
Standing on many shoulders, such strengthening standard-bearers, faithfully abiding!
Life greeted Death
with an epoch
from the depths of dusk
with a dawn,
the sun rose lucid
with it's soft spotted infant rose
now awake,
hanging heavily harnessed
in the steaming swaying sky,
the sun's aura
lit the sands of the silent Sahara
liked an aged ocean of butterscotch beauty,
and the starch strung clouds
maneuvored like vanilla lace
avalanching outward
kissing the hips of the woven horizon,
my sight probed to ponder
the powdered blue glow
of the desperate distance,
where the shadows
of the dune's palms
insult the posture
of the ivory sanctuary
that sat balanced for sake of Bethlahem,
I sat megerly meditating,
watching the subtle creases
in the Meditterraniean Sea absorb the sliced brass shingles
that weave the waters wealthy,
as the morning properly transcended Westward
manipulating nature's maturity
by rambling roughly to the seas
for wandering waves of bolted blooms of blue
for the twinkle of a jewel
which sits on a stool as a star
as far as North,
soon the violet velocity of night
approached the set,
electrifying the ending day,
and the Sister of the Sun
landed on the sky's chest
like a sheild on a knight,
as I listened lightly
the Moon politely announced,that evening is back to stack
the black symphony -
J.A.B.
Sauntering through an antique store the other day,
I chanced upon some old straight razors on display.
One struck my fancy and upon it my eyes were cast.
I couldn't help but pause and muse about its past.
A sheath of ivory encased its blade - 'twas a beauty I beheld!
I wondered by whose steady hand it had once been held.
It could've been wielded by a hobo or tycoon, I suppose,
As he deftly trimmed the mustache sprouting 'neath his nose!
Perhaps it was used by the town barber in old Cripple Creek,
To scrape the stubble from a feisty old prospector's cheek!
Or maybe Colonel Carrington used it on his perilous journey,
Leading his troops westward to foredoomed Fort Phil Kearny.
Perchance it was brandished by the impetuous Colonel Custer,
For his morning shave ere meeting his final muster!
Buffalo Bill may have used it to trim the goatee on his chin,
Carefully grooming it, so as not to nick his leathery skin!
Could it have purged the fuzz from the mug of Billy the Kid,
Before Pat Garrett cornered him and lowered on him the lid?
Whatever its storied past it now lies there in all its splendor,
For folks to admire and about its antiquity to conjecture!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Embrace sweet night the air
Divine the scent of sweet jasmine
Gardens line the streets of Pompeii
Eve's delight wafts on a westward breeze
Only the stars dare compete with the distant rumble
Flashing their pedigree when all seems calm
Naive we be thinking we are safe
Intoxicated with our sleepy dreams
Gargoyles and ghosts meanwhile dance amid a cauldron
Hades from below will soon let out his roar
Tremble Pompeii the night envelops this sudden moment cast in time
AP: 3rd place 2026
POTD August 19, 2026
parable sonnets
I was flying high, yet it was hot my wings tired
spotted a well flew down and sat by its side.
By leaning forward, I could see my reflection
in the clear water.
A dark shadow pushed me, fell into the well.
I looked up but, the evil was not there
and the sun was westward bound, taking with it
the daylight.
I had sharp talons clawed my way up to the rim of the well.
Night, evil sat by the fireside reading a book of magic.
I tore its eyes out, the scream brought thunder and hailstone.
The evil ran outside to cool the eyes he no longer had.
It fell into the well and called for help.
What could I do a bird with silky feathers?
I flew up to the sky, the scream of anguish bore the suffering of humankind
echoed through the galaxy.
The pears were heavy
noon warmed the gongshi
light withdrew into white
I gathered
laid each in straw
grain turned through my palm
as it had turned through other palms
melons, round
a white orchid by the gate
one flower open
the bees already gone
dew gathered
the Fire Star slipped westward
clothes stirred on the line
hands gathered the cloth
wild geese crossed above the roofs
their call thinned southward
the moon rose whole
a jade plate in the dark
one circle
two distances
Chang'e entered the moon
and earth fell from her
the Jade Rabbit ground its white mortar
the osmanthus stood before Wu Gang
he cut
it grew
he cut again
it grew again
beneath the eaves
a knife lay
edge bright
handle dark with wear—
cut the last stem
the stem yielded
sound grain to the jar
hollow grain to the earth
the White Tiger rose in the west
chrysanthemums kept their yellow
low among the thinning stalks
I reached
stopped
the jars stood full in the dark
leaves descended
insects entered the soil
cold gathered at the ribs
the year grew old in my hands
by morning
frost had entered the pear
frost on the pear
frost on the palm
Wu Gang cuts
the Jade Rabbit grinds
moon returned
the light drifted west
American Osmosis
Jamestown was the source of this
Movement that swept across the continent
At first the ships were left behind
And people used what they could find
A mule, an ox, a Percheron
Whatever they could sit upon
They loaded up and west they went
Some went north and some went south
They filled the land e're which they went
The Louisiana Purchase was the big event
That sealed America’s destiny
Soon the country was spilling westward
To be the first to make a print
Where no one else ever went
They hoped for happiness as their destiny
The Donners never did find any
There were others rushed by gold
With hopes of riches they would hold
But mostly what the immigrants found
Was this great nation which was bound
To fill her borders sea to sea
With citizens like you and me
We owe thanks to Conestoga and Civil War
Beaver hats and railroad cars
Pulled behind the great iron horse
Of muskets bore and coon skin caps
Horses and cattle and leather chaps
Cowboys, six guns and barbed wire fences
Rangers, Marshals and bar maid glimpses
Pony Express and long coach rides
Wagon loads of buffalo hides
And the Indians who gave their homes
Of mountains and prairies where bison roamed
To live among us brave and bold
Absorbed by the manifest destiny told
Of the American Osmosis
When the Earth Brings an End to the Day
Kevin Davis 2024
When my creatures rouse from their midday slumber,
stirred by the western-turning sun,
the Sun is moving further westward,
bringing new delights to everyone.
Hide-and-seek, kick-the-can, catching fireflies,
these become the children’s joy,
as the birds and the insects dance in the skies.
This season of long days brings everyone out,
They savor the cool as the heat leaves with the sun.
Crickets and frogs sing a happy, but it is a sleepy tune,
Soon the darkness covers my fields and flowers,
the only light is from the Moon.
My Children watch with disappointment as darkness falls,
and find time for a few more games before last call.
But then it’s time for baths to prepare for bed,
where the day’s enjoyment becomes dreams that dance in their head.
One morning, I had a cup of coffee
By the window of my hut at Lahong
Facing North. I let the air evolve into wind
From my mouth to the surface of the vaporizing
Liquid in the cup, forming waves,
And then took a sip.
The heat and the taste bit my tongue.
Ouch!
The sky was partly cloudy; it was raining
In the West whilst the sunrise shone in the East.
I took a sip.
I looked up in the sky and was pleased to see
A rainbow painted on the Western part.
Mamang always warned us not to point our fingers
To the rainbow because doing so
Would give us skin blisters.
Papang once told us that there is a pot of gold
On each end of the rainbow.
I took a sip.
The color of the liquid in my cup was pale.
So was its sweetness.
Poverty and frugality are twins.
It came to my mind:
The pot of gold on a rainbow’s end
Is the answer to this bland coffee.
I took a sip, the last sip.
I left the hut, treading westward,
Barefooted. Soft drizzle on my head.
Tacky quagmire on my feet.
I walked, walked, and walked
To Gacutan – I had seen one
of the rainbow’s ends on this place,
but it disappeared.
Noon came with raindrops
Falling on my head. No shelter.
No food. No rainbow.
On a grassy peak of a hill
I waited for the rainbow to reappear.
Soft drizzle on my head.
Cold wind against my skin.
Tingling touch of grass on my feet.
Afternoon came with sunset visible,
Giving warmth to my shivering lips.
The rainbow! There! On the East!
I saw one of its ends
On my hut at Lahong.