We are all connected,
The donkey, the merle, and me,
You are the children of God,
You proud cats, and dogs
You generous sheep,
Deer and pigeons, eagles
Share the same light,
The same sky, what a sacred mystery,
The donkey, the merle, and the poet,
The horse and the arrogant seagull,
The monkey, the surveyor, and the linnet,
The giraffe with a pulpy orange neck
We are all connected.
Contest Title: Long Shadows Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Deadline: Wednesday, October 29, 2025
Poem Title: The Surveyor of Dusk
Late Texas summer, wet heat and mosquitos,
running each evening, preparing for boot.
Past the few houses in my small country town,
past the people, past the sound,
running my past into the graveled ground.
The sun was low, a blood-red fruit in the sky,
casting my lunging shadow before me
on the dusty gravel finger of road.
I and my companion shadow strode
to Richland Creek where I would rest my load.
Each day I ran through the silent shadows,
alone and relishing my strength and youth,
pitting myself against my own best time,
enjoying the heat, sweat, and even the grime
of the dusty shadowed gravel road rime.
My shadow was joined in silent watch
one evening as I pushed my youthful endurance
by a heart-faced barn owl with glowing eyes
who brought a stutter to my steps
and a shock to my eyes.
Silently staring with shadow of his own,
his golden eyes still keep me company
in dreams and shadow memory
reminding me of a youth so temporary.
Beware the Sting
beehive
behave
Confused Snitch
tattled
addled
Test Pilot
explains
X-planes
Under Her Breath
mother
mutter
Rents Trucks
Ryder
rider
Hungry Surveyor
steak sauce
saw stakes
Lower Branch
entry
in tree
Indecisive
know way
no way
Football
which ball
your call
Three Syllable Error
acquire
a choir
Correction With Echo
acquire
choir
Analysis Paralysis
ad hoc
tick-tock
Match Point Yessssssssss!
tennis
ten s
Choose Wisely
insight
incite
Power of the Pen
Shakespeare
shakes spear
Save the Bees
believe
bees leave
he was the oddest surveyor elf I had ever met
seemed weirdly familiar, strange too, and yet….
I was drawn to his ways, and watched him with pride.
As he measured and wrote down stuff he did hide.
what do you think? I asked him. Are they on my property?
That is for the computer to decide. We shall see, we shall see.
I could not wait for him to return, he was a funny little guy.
He mailed me the results, which nearly made me cry.
I had been drawn to him, and wanted to see him again and again.
What was it about him? asked my mother, father and twin.
Not sure, but I had been snoggersmacked by the likes of this elf.
I felt sad I would never see him again, confused by myself.
Oh, you mighty winged wonder,
Drifting on a balmy breeze.
Across clover scented air,
And over deep salty seas.
Light as a feather you fly,
Surveyor of lands below.
Through mountain passes you glide,
Withstanding the caps of snow.
Now landing and perched on high,
Your task is put to the test.
With your chicks well on the way,
You scurry to build a nest.
New eggs are ready to hatch,
And soon you'll have mouths to feed.
You search among forest floors,
With the hopes of worm and seed.
Newborns are safely asleep,
As you guard them through the night.
When daybreak peeks overhead,
Back to the freedom of flight.
Cramped steps acquaint heavy hatch reluctant
Cushion hush cellar isolate, harsh sun migraines
Catapulted myopic into apocalyptic destruction
Crumple of coastal community permits my gains
Grim resilient, plotted alone, abided by rations
Tidal wave treachery turned streets to swamps
Flotsam tops remnants sea's fury didn't flatten
Successors gorge on corpses misfortunes crop
Erased ocean era, crook posts pitifully campaign
Brashly I churn bathtubs of backstroked arachnids
Inhabit rainforest ripple stream, source I can claim
Traverse canopy like trampoline, scout eyes active
8th March
Out of Mangrove
''The ant is a wise creature, hard-working and thrifty. Yet, both friend, foe and great surveyor of mother earth.''
SURVEYOR OF THE STORM
Today’s early afternoon is somber-gray.
Red, white, blue, cherry willow, stars.
A single lightning bolt, in downward zigzag,
striking, alongside the bark of a crépe myrtle.*
Loose leaves sliding down oil-slicked street.
Goodnight skies rise into the light.
Verve-quake of thunder. I saw clouds rise and fall,
flutter by. Chimes and metallic owls, mirrors and bells
keep those pesky ‘peckers at bay, but will they survive
if the wind takes them away? (They did)
Yesterday’s moonlight
will be drenched behind midnight-clouds.
Spectacular sun-days orchestrate Spring hues
as wings splish-splosh in flooding bath tubs.
Well, I imagine so…
as faith remains.
3/25/2021
Non-rhyming couplets
*striking used as adj. here
My blue Monday occurred 30 years ago
I being due to get wed a second time
But had to sell my house before that
time was running out for my last dime
It had been on sale for a good month
plenty viewers but no offers to see
had chat with agents to change price
this was Friday glad they did agree
When it came Sunday afternoon
sitting at home really feeling blue
my fiancee getting stressed also too
then a knock at my door gave a clue
Outside the door was a young lady
was passing by saw the house for sale
asked if she could view my place
said liked it and like to nail
Monday morn came, off to work I go
receive call surveyor was on his way
by lunch, call came to confirm
ecstasy was mine receive my blue Monday
"For sale sign came down"
(I want to tell you about my Blue Monday, but not like most folk this wasn't sad but a very extremely happy blue Monday.)
okey….
one hour to go
from start...
to finish where
the ever-remains...
that constant
of existence...
speed of change that is
seen as light...
and the accelerations as
the foundations for...
relativity as being of
the sight surveyor with...
respect some object of
focus like the dragon...
fly impacted by my shadow
on it's multi-faceted eyes...
while trying to take
it's picture...
in the sunset the
camera shutter speed was...
not an acceleration
fast enough compared to...
the speed of vision
through the eye...
to catch that dragon
image on the fly...
stan sand
I'm love’s iPad ready for an embrace.
Steve Jobs got credit for the touch interface
But mine's up and running with all the updates
I'm love's police regulating the pace
"you took that curve a little fast - this isn't a race."
I'm love's surveyor drawing the lines
"the pilgrims want to explore a new area this time."
I'm love's conductor - whew - hear the engine whine
"A tourist wants the tunnel - he's ready and primed."
I'm love's waitress
"sir, that's not on the menu."
Love's entrepreneur hosting the venue
I'm love’s umpire right there in your face…
"sorry pal, but you’re out at second base!"
When we speak today we tend to look at words as a necessary constant with limitations of their own rather than a completely different cosmos in which we have the ability to traverse and discover.
Take a single resident of that realm for example; one individual word. Rather than looking at it as a compilation of letters, view it as a beautiful form in which you have the privilege of dressing. Turning it into a separate creation adorned by the complements of your choosing; a poem.
In the realm of poetry there are unending borders of emotion, philosophy, and beliefs that make it a place of residence like no other. However, you as the individual are the surveyor of your own boundaries; meaning that you run the risk of personally limiting your space within the universe of word.
Explore this new land and map its different landscapes. Become that which you are writing and attain the ability, the gift, to reach directly into the mind, heart, and soul of another person.
Pick what you want or ridicule all
Here i stand never going to fall
I am an indestructible force
A man who wont kneel but die on his feet
The last man standing my head held high
My mind fill the ether like clouds in the sky
Outside the box a lateral surveyor
No god will answer my prayer
A freak a weirdo, just a little bit off
For all that berate me
You can all do your worst
Your pitiful lives are all your own curse
I lay quietly in a cradle of sand
Warmed by the glow of sun’s affection
Soothed by a salt water lullaby
An ardent surveyor of nature’s perfection
And I wonder if they ever think of me
Am I even a blink of their memory
Lives shared only in brief connection
Engraved now in my mind’s reflection
Friendships made in summers past
Fleeting encounters of my youth
Lost through course of life’s divergence
Savored now like sweet Vermouth
My thoughts now stirred by breezy incense
A perfume of seaside sachet
I tuck away these thoughts of fancy
To contemplate another day
the earths radius is 3,959 miles,
in the inside it holds all of our beautiful smiles,
the earth is made up of 3 different parts,
and the core is right where it starts,
then its the mantle which is its thickest layer,
the person who determines the elevation is called a surveyor,
the last layer is the crust,
some of the people on earth aren't easy to trust,
earth is the only planet not named after a god,
to me all the other planets sound a little odd.
but before the day is over make sure you pray,
because if it wasn't for God you wouldn't of lived a day.
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