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Best Poems Written by Lon Wartman

Below are the all-time best Lon Wartman poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Lon Wartman Poem

Blizzard

“Blizzard”

Thundering down the valleys 
Tearing across the plains 
Ten thousand steel horses  
Their nostrils spitting steam       
Bodies tense with anger 
The bastard Boreas 
Coming to claim his script   

A monstrous armada 
Assembled in the Dakotas 
Let loose its cannons
In the Nebraska hills
Raining yellow dust 
From hell in the early 
Morning light.  

Huge nightmarish clouds 
Filled the sky
Mother cows braying 
Horses stomping  
Jack rabbits scurrying  
Black birds fleeing  
Weather man says
Storm on the rise

Laden with dynamite  
Screaming and howling 
Whipping and pounding
Bashing and thrashing 
The ten thousand came
Their hatred brewing
Their ears laid back
The demons raged 

The man ran inside
His adobe home
The door refused to close
The shutters shook
The tar papered roof 
Began to tear 
A mother feared

The trees bent 
The angry winds raged
Tearing them apart
Limb by limb
A blinding “Blizzard”
The brown dirt turned white
As mountainous drifts grew  

The insanity of it all   
Off to school 
Nineteen children went
In old Chevy bus
Card boarded windows 
Lost in a ditch
That bastard Boreas
Claimed his script

A monument now sits
Frozen in time
It was 1931
Towner, Colorado

Inspired by
Towner Bus Tragedy “Lost in a Blizzard” (March 26, 1931)

Details | Lon Wartman Poem

I Rise

I Rise
I open the windows of my humble adobe
I breathe in the mountain air
I make a pot of coffee
Then read the News...

Recession, inflation 
Homeless, addiction 
Waste on our streets

Men and women on the mall
Lead in the air
Another one falls
Rifles galore

Rockets hit Kyiv
Russia waring
Men take aim, insanely proud

Little ones dying
Africa starving
Immigrants waiting
Refugees seeking
 
It makes me ill
I open the windows more
I breathe in the mountain air 
I see deer in the meadow below

Details | Lon Wartman Poem

Winter's Wrath

Day-248 “Winter’s Wrath”
From out of the north
The cold winds blew
Hell’s inferno turned blistery cold
The Devil himself all 
Bundled in ice coated steel; 
His snarly, crackling laughter
Piercing the barren air.

His staff, a brazened fork,
Pierced all who ventured out 
Searing holes in sockless shoes.
His razor sharp eyes
Turned pathways glazed
To monstrous graves.

Eternity could not be worse 
This inferno from the north.

From out of the south
The warm winds came.
Across the Heavens, 
In a chariot of golden sun rays
Pulled by a hundred whited steeds 
Apollo took aim.

Over the plains they clashed;
Spears and swords took many a soul
White sheets covered the deadly fields.

The north wind hissed.
The south wind kissed. 
 
Apollo cried out 
“My blood runs hot 
Forsake me not.”

From his scabbard a diamond blade flew
Cutting the breath of that mighty
South bound wind.   
He ripped the armor 
From the Devil’s redden skin
And turned it to dust; then 
Took that angry man’s staff and threw 
It to the sea.

With that the skies began to calm
And the wind turned warm.

Above the plains
In the setting sun
Selene stood proud.
As she glazed the sea
With an orangish glow 
A smile on her face
For Apollo her man, 
Boreas he tamed.
						Lon 2/16/2021 #351

Details | Lon Wartman Poem

Santa Fe

“Santa Fe”

Santa Fe, Santa Fe, 
Oh Santa Fe,
Take me home to Santa Fe.
Where mountain peaks 
Are bathed in gold.
Where artists and seekers
Come to unfold.

Where natives live in ages past
Stair step terra-cotta 
Rise on desert floors.
Where artists come to paint and play
Calling all to Santa Fe

Dream maker’s dreams
Come true in the 
Travertine 
Aisles of Canyon Road.
Take me home to Santa Fe.

Zuni, Navajo and Hopi jewels
Laid out on woven throws. 
Travelers come to barter
For jewels upon their wrists.

Sculptors, painters and weavers  
Silversmiths, potters and glass blowers
Excite the spirits hidden deep
Within your soul.
The joy of beauty unfolds.

Galleries upon Galleries;
Artistic nudes, 
Golden sunsets and landscapes.
Glimpses through storefront glass 
Play on your senses. 
The sun shines bright in Santa Fe.

Boxes carved in walls 
Deliver stories from the past.
Colored doors tell tales of lives within.
Many an O’Keeffe have come and gone
Yet they linger in the spirits
And walls of Santa Fe. 

No other place inspires 
Like Santa Fe.
I dream of her 
Whenever I’m blue.
Take me back to Santa Fe;
Paint a picture on my soul. 

You wake up my senses
You beautify my soul
You heal my sorrows
You bring joy to my life

When I die let it be in Santa Fe
There is no better place 
To lay your bones
Than dear old Santa Fe.

Take me home to Santa Fe.
						Lon 9/24/2021

Details | Lon Wartman Poem

A Simple Kiss

Day-211 “A Simple Kiss”

There’s a weed in my back yard
It’s tall and lanky
It’s black, mean and ugly 

I’ve chopped it down
three times today
each time I turn
it flares up again and again 

As I was scratching my head
wondering what to do
along came a little boy
with a candy cane smile

Howdy Mr. Smith!
I see you’ve been 
working hard today
just, what is it you are trying to do?

I’m trying to rid my yard
of this pesky o’l weed
I’ve chopped it down 
three times today
each time I turn
it flares up again and again 

With a twinkle in his eye
and a grin on his face 
He said. 
I betcha I can rid 
it from your yard?
Would you let me give it a try?

Sure said I 
If you do I’ll give you a smile

With that the little boy
with the candy cane smile
ran to my back yard and 
planted a kiss on that ugly o’l weed

To my utter amazement 
it wilted and died 
right there on the spot

My Goodness! Said I
How on earth did you do that?
What is this magic you possess?

Where upon the little boy
with the candy cane smile
Said
You kill hate with kindness 
Mr. Smith
Now, may I have my smile?

		Lon 1/09/2021#315

Details | Lon Wartman Poem

A Man Of Many Talents

“A Man of Lost Talents”

We all have talents
Mine the most precious of all
Without a doubt
It is something 
I could live without

Some would say it’s a surprise
Some would say it’s remarkable
Some would say it’s incredible
Me, thinks, “Fantastic.”

My wife says I could do much more
If I would quit............things
She says I would have more time
If I would quit............things
Maybe, I could declutter my life
If I would quit............things

I must say it is indeed
A talent that I could live without
But what fun would that be?

I would love to teach others this talent.
I would make a great mentor.
There is always someone 
Willing to pay for a great talent.
If I would quit............things
I am the “Master”

I think it’s genetic
Perhaps inherited
Maybe bathetic 
Certainly pathetic. 

What the hell is bathetic? 
So where did the tic come from?

My mother was of German decent
And they never.............anything.

But Me,
Something is always amiss.


I am always happy except
When I.............. things
My glasses, my billfold, my credit card,
My place in a book, my car, and, of course, my keys.

And then, 
There is my mind.  

I say, 
Where the hell did it go?

She said, 
I really don’t know.

I say,
It has to be near.

She said,
You just forgot
What you thought?

I said,
No!
I just thought 
What I forgot.

I asked,
What happens when I get 
Old and gray?

She said, 
It won’t matter, 
You’re lost anyway.

I say, 
Who took my *&#$%@ pen?

Details | Lon Wartman Poem

The Turning of Leaves

“The Turning of Leaves”

While walking down a 
Forest trail
I came upon
A most beautiful sight 								 

Much to my delight 
A forest floor covered
In multitudes
Of yellows, oranges, 
And crimson reds. 

Fluttering about on a chiffon breeze    
These jewels from summer’s past fell
Stitching blankets for queens
As they lie in midnight dreams
 
I stopped along this forest path
To claim a few and marvel at
This palette of beauty unseen 
Just days before. 

I reach to fill my arms
With their beautiful hues 
And musky scents.
A gift to my lover
For her intimate desires     

As I reach 
I hear a rustling 
Beneath my feet. 
So lovely a voice
It spoke to me
As in a lullaby.

“Please let me be 
I’m here to please.”

I’m soon to drift asleep
Under these blankets of 
Majestic hues. 

Much like you
I’ll awaken one day 
To greening vales,
Flowering meadows, and
The new birth of these forest trees     
Of 
Maples, Oaks and Aspen leaves.

Treasure this Treasure.
As you contemplate your Greystone Years  
You’ll drift through life’s many doors.
Many wars and relentless fears,
Many dreams and newborn themes,
Many leaves you will have turned,
And many springs yet to come  

You’ll ask
Why isn’t the world as pretty as this scene?

Details | Lon Wartman Poem

Lynching

“Lynching”

Black man floating in space
Knotted rope about his face
Crosses burning
White sheets chanting

Black man squirming     
Blue knee choking 
Buildings burning
Dark nights looming

A noose from a tree
A boot and a knee
A black man dead
No one lead

Gutters vomiting
Jesus faltering
Canisters of tears
Scattering fears

Memories from the past
Recall the last
Nothing changed
Our nation estranged

Horrible brutality
Watching reality 
A hang man’s stage
Millions enraged

Dusty roads
A hang man’s noose
Burning streets
A black man pleading

So much the same
It just insane 
Equal justice
No longer trusted

Civil unrest
A nation stressed
Yet we care
When tempers flare

Doing it right
With all our might
We all must listen
As rattlesnakes hissen 

It begins in the mind
You learn to be kind
We are all blood inside
Where love resides

It is not right
That I am white
And am not black
But my soul is cracked 

I FEEL YOUR PAIN....  
As George was slain
I watched it all
His terrible fall

Again and Again
Again and Again

A henchman calling
A nation bleeding 

Again and Again
Again and Again

Crosses burning
Mindsets never learning 
It was a lynching 	


							Lon 6/1/2020

Details | Lon Wartman Poem

A Rose Grows

A rose grows from my heart.  
Its roots run deep into my veins.
Its petals of golden crimson 
Bring pleasures to my being.           

Its stem of thorny spears            
Calms my many fears.
Protects my soul from temptations,
No need for explanations.

Ravishing its fragrance.
Intoxicatingly divine.  
As from the pages of Genesis 
Drifts far into my senses.  

The beauty of a rose.
Likened to Juliet’s prose,
Savors romantic favors
In multitudes of flavors. 

Likened to new found love
Awash in blissful lust.
The serenity of the aged
Who perch on evening steps.

Poetic phrases grace
The many pages
Of the love 
I have for thee.

Blessed is the love that 
Grows from deep within.

Details | Lon Wartman Poem

Prairie Storm

“Prairie Storm”

The air turned
Deadly still,
The trees no 
Longer swayed,
The horses neighed, 
The church bells rang

Rabbits ran 
For their caves.
Old men rushed
To close their doors.

Storm on the Rise!
Storm on the Rise!
Twister but a mile!
Be here in a while!

Hurry, grab the kids  
To the cellar quick. 
We haven’t the time 
To worry.
It’s coming with a fury

The clouds grew deadly black
As deadly black can get. 
Whipping and churning,
Rumbling and growling, 
Twisting and swirling,
A tail was coming

With a vengeance it came:
Bolting and striking,
Snapping and crackling,
Exploding and blasting,
The tail kept churning.

The roof from the
Barn was thrown.
The windows in the
House were blown.
The trees ripped 
From their roots.
The horses ran.

The rain
Came pounding.  
The hail
Came battering.  
The wheat field 
Turned to straw.

Up from the cellar 
The family rose.
The mother poured tears.
The father fell to his knees.
The little ones clung 
To mother’s skirt.
There was little left.
His dreams disappeared.

The neighbors 
Came calling.
The storm unkind.
He lost his mind.
The church bells rang.