Westward Poems - Poems about Westward

Westward Peace

When he leaves
It takes everything in me
To not follow
If he can’t lead
So far east
That the sun too flees
From mornings of sorrow
For westward peace

And it soothes to be held
To be loved like I am someone else
Still the fool, never quelled
Loving him as I should myself

Westward Wanderlust

Westward wanderlust,
Wagon waltzes with Winter wine,
White watercolor walleye, windy-wallop.

Wading where wafers wage war,
Where warmth wanes without warning.
Wary whispers; weather will weather, whatnot.

Westward

Westward
in the winter mist
unwavering
wing-beat rhythm
thrusting
purposeful
powerful
pale creatures
of a pale world,
outstretched
magnificence
reshaped
from the haughty elegance
of arched necks
and curved wing-folds
white
on a summer’s placid lake.

On a cold foggy morning in Dorset, England, in January, 1992, I heard the distinctive wingbeats of swans approaching. Three of them passed by just to the north of me, giving me a very brief view

Azure Dreams Unfolding Westward

In the dance of thoughts, we twirl,
a symphony of whispered musings.
Words, delicate as a butterfly's kiss,
flutter from our lips, sometimes exquisite,
sometimes in the gentle decay of letters.

Oh, how we interweave with the tapestry
of our innermost reflections,
uttering soliloquies to the silent echoes.
Each syllable, a gem of contemplation,
we carefully place within the gardens
of afterthoughts, a secret burial

Westward, Further Out

"Westward, further out ..."

Dusk washes over you
warm like honey 
saltry and sweet
immersed in amber tones of 
apricot alerts and rose 
swirling unfurling peonies 
the blooming silent dancing clouds 
rush over white horses 
crashing against 
bracken green emeralds
the depths open 
and unfathomable,
who can read the eyes of 
an unexplored ocean, 
the shallows 
slide under your feet,
you

Westward

As the scorching earth turns the parched earth to dust,
Making each day an effort to continue yet we know we must.
Behind them was Missouri and the life we had,
It was a happy life until things went bad.
Papa tried to make it work and for a while he did.
It was not long after the war things

Westward

Wagons packed, gunny sacked

                                  Wheat flour, beans, preserves

              

Westward Bound

The past was locked in with very little 'right of passage'.                                            

The Westward Wind

The Westward Wind

The westward wind whistled,
As it whisked wildly pass,
Weeping willow trees.

Weary eyed women watched,
As winters wayward wrath,
Wreaked havoc through its breeze.

Waffling warm winds weaving,
As wounded workers,
Walked, the winding path.

Wailing Whippoorwills whispered,
Welcoming words of warmth,  
From the westward winds aftermath!

Written: 3/17/16 © 

Submitted for contest: Elements Part 2: Wind
Sponsored by: Brian Davey

The Westward Trail

How fast does the river flow Michael?
How deep and wide did you say?
The wagon need to cross this river
And cross it not tomorrow but today
The summer will soon turn to autumn
And the axes are sharpened and honed
And mama is needing somewhere to rest
And that somewhere is mama’s new home
So cross the river with care son
And

Westward Ho

How was the West really won?
Also how a sunset meant you were done
In a town called CENTER GULCH, TEXAS, it was a busy affair of stagecoaches and Sheriff Toby Jackson
He was a Sheriff that kept order in town being his action
But it took a little persuasion 
Those stagecoaches in their days made your butt so

Westward Ho

(Blank Verse Sonnet)

The wagons slice a trail across the plains
in search for gold or land to claim and build
abodes where independence rules supreme;
my great-grandfather leads them west for gain
all while his wife and sons work on the farm.
The trails he carves become long rails of iron
throughout a nation sworn by force of law –
that each

Westward Movement

The ground is damp
it bleeds through my thin cotton skirt.
Crest born, I sit and wait the dawn.
My fingers weave into the high rye grass.
The house below is quiet still.
The children sleep.
The dog’s with me. 
We sit high upon the hill.

Peaceful heart, Venus I spy
the morning star, the moon, and dawn,
God could see them in my

On Driving Westward Toward Versailles

I

wet cat impaled on telegraph poles
serrated ashbrown fur
tinged with flinting silver
a mirror blue
cut by guitar strings on a shining plate
bathed in molten evening shine

jet streaks through pylon barrage
windshield wipers’ hemicircular swipe

dry cat’s crusty baguette fur
ashen edges of rapidfire cirrus

pylons stalk the sky
and catch the wipers in the eye

II

horses purr in the cat’s geule
carriages trot through

Westward Ho'

In the 1600's, Europeans lived on the eastern shore
Their numbers grew, they wanted more.
Iroquios, Sauk, Ottawa, and Mohawk were tribes they met
Too many and more, paid our forefathers' debt.
Men moved west thru the Cumberland gap
Daniel Boone led them, wearing a coonskin cap.
Freedom's new country was born in 1776
The indians, however, did not fit our mix.

Lewis

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