"Wake within the Rose Wilderness,"
with the sky of pinks as this day closes.
"I beseech the sun to undress the stars,"
as the moon comes over the crest.
"If I am your refrain, let my name burn,"
in the morning light as the sun climbs out of bed.
"Tortured by the taste of Touch,"
today will the hot sun burn me once more?
"What is a ripple without its rhythm?"
Like the daily sun without the nightly moon.
I was sitting on the corner, stoned
When out of the blue, my dead aunt phoned
How could this be, she rests in peace
Right beside my loving niece
I answered the phone, and my auntie said
"I know you think that I am dead"
"I'm alive"- my auntie moaned
Or- could it be that you're just- "Stoned"
I rolled over and went back to sleep,
counting red and yellow sheep.
I heard auntie say, "the sheep are real cheap."
Then I rode off in an old broken down jeep.
Maybe I needed to stop getting in the stoned zone?
Now the sheep farm I do own.
My loving niece Joan said, "be carful Charles."
I did not listen, so I am now all alone.
"The Steam Train I Never Rode"
It waits upon the platform still,
a beast of brass and sighing steel,
its breath a ghost of what was planned,
its whistle cutting through what’s real.
Your mother bought the tickets two,
a birthday gift, a kind of dream,
to ride the rails through hills and blue,
our laughter trailing with the steam.
But time derailed what love had made,
and silence filled the engine’s hum.
The journey left, the plans decayed,
and I stood still you did not come.
Now every echo down the track
reminds me of that fleeting chance
the smoke, the heart that won’t come back,
the ticket folded in my hands.
Perhaps it’s better that it stayed,
a journey written, never known
for some trains go, and some remain,
and some are meant to leave alone.
The cattle barons rode into town
They were dressed in blah, black and brown
Faces stoic and plain
Bulls of Iowa fame
They marched to the square to confront the clown
The clown was frightened of these big six
There was not a happy one in the mix
Hamburger? No way!
We are here to stay
Clown, owner of the diner, was in a fix
the spider rode the horse
the horse he rode as a rider
the cow had wondered how
the sheep was still asleep
the worm then rode the horse
the horse he rode on his turn
the goat had not seen owt
the pig lined up for it
the farm that day felt different
a different farming day
the horse soon looking full
then towards him came the bull
She rode a horse named Romance through the field that day
Squirrel asked chipmunk, “Are they yet far away?”
Chipmunk did not know, so he put his ear to the ground.
They’ll be here in a few hours, he said next to ant mound.
Romance was swift, joyful, a wonderful ride for Lulu.
She thought she might find a beau before day was through.
Potential suitor was intimidated by the well-toned steed.
“I guess she has everything she will ever need.”
So that day was not lucky, or the next few years either.
As for squirrel and chipmunk, they traveled to Peither.
Potential suitor married her cousin, a woman named Kay.
Who had no handsome steed, but a lovely kind way.
I rode my bike west until I hit the ocean blue.
No you did not! Argued an old soft shoe.
I did, I replied, turning him into glue.
He had called me a liar, so wouldn’t you?
Disturbed over what she had planned
for tomorrow. Often times she refused to
me as included with her plans.
What sweet sonnets sing ye
the sound of togetherness
tangled with romance
an evening of love
a night to dance
Yes you my darling might obe
take part
in the clearest exception
where two promise never
to part
Love in the possibility of loving
where is tomorrow
that we shall love
the night away
each promise
each promise
Poem who shall write me
that you seem so inspired
promise who shall write me
Promise who shall write me
in titled to perfection
with each and every word
Poem who shall write me
Poem who shall write me.
then are they evil that they reherst
poem who shall write me
Sample the sweet sounds of
moring the feast upon the fruit
Poem who shall write me
Poem who shall write me
Then have we tonight
might the day was strange with
with sungsters
many words sung
some evasive of love
who shall sing the need
of our togetherness
nature sings in
the night might her
song be as sweet
Crepes for dessert
Last night, I rode upon a sea of dreams,
a whale and grandpa rode them with me.
I felt water hit me as I sailed in my bed;
it was only the whale nodding his head.
He splashed all around those waters of blue,
while rays of moonlight cast silvery hues.
The fish, how they danced in and out of the waves;
a Salmon leapt by me, a Tuna, a Blue Hake.
My bed, it sailed better than any old boat;
when the dream began I was trapped in a moat!
As it turned into ocean with waters blue-green,
I realized the whale, it was a Baleen.
The whale, he told me that he was endangered,
why should he confide in me, a stranger?
My Grandpa told me the very next day,
when I grew up, the whales I could help save.
Their sadness sounds from distant hills,
Drums speaking strength, valor not lost
Calling warriors to give might and will
Victories now but at what cost.
Now drums guide dancers' whirling feet
Their sadness sounds from distant hills
Warriors' hearts feel a quiet defeat
Memories of greatness~silenced, still.
Lilting birds' calls, flute answers trills
Music caught in enchantment's lures
Their sadness sounds from distant hills
Voices of flute, lonesome and pure.
Over vast land they hunted game
Days now lost of conquests and skills
Spirits sigh for those times untamed
Their sadness sounds from distant hills.
Here's the news with anchor, Horseju Rode Inon
Man claims to have been visited by a scary apparition
With weird scary hair
All straggly down to there
It touched his dangly bits without permission
I rode my tortoise to the fair
To other pets he can’t compare
I asked my mama what to wear.
She said she frankly did not care.
We thought people might stop and stare.
Saw lady in her underwear.
They did which is not ever rare.
Passed by a mare sitting on a chair.
Cute pink hair with a lion’s rare.
I thought her hair might be a dare.
We rode right to the village square.
It sure took long to get me there.
Tribute to Columbia’s Seven
They rode the stars to
See our earth on horses made
By man… they were awe
Struck…but something went
Wrong…their lost is great…tears flowed
Free…their jobs were done.
Now, instead of space
Walking they all do walk with
God’s one beloved son.
W.C.Hull © 2020-21-4-H1353-
2463-I50-K50-39-L56-12
Though most Americans praise it
Donald Trump has vowed to raze it
Why leave it to fate
When we can just mate
And let Republicans raise it?
I rode shotgun
with someone
who look just like me
Had the same skin color
as far as I
could steering wheel see
I rode shotgun
with a racist someone,
who hatefully
talked the same way as me
Had the same gnarled speech,
same gnarly hands,
same ugly voice,
same cursive feet
like the carpal in the passenger seat
I rode darkie mind shotgun
with a ghost face someone
who look unholy, just like me
Had the same 20/20 side-by-sidearm vision,
same 20/20 gauge belief
As near as I
could peer passenger see
I once rode shotgun
with a rearview mirror friend,
now a gas pump-action enemy
It’s hard to double barrel conceive,
I went from zero-to-sixty in a heartbeat
Change of attitude direction
came baptismal trigger swiftly
I was passenger told ... and I prayer hope,
distant objects are closer
than they appear to be
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Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.