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Best Poems Written by Samuel Moreland

Below are the all-time best Samuel Moreland poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Samuel Moreland Poem

Age and Will

It feels like spring has left these feet,
My steps come far less quickly now.
I find less solace in the load,
I find it easier to bow.
Yet in your eyes there’s no defeat,
And still with you I walk the road.

Details | Samuel Moreland Poem

The Moth Man

The headlights of a tractor drew my great-grandfather to his death.
Anglerfish of steel, power take-off a maddening buzz –
Was the barn dark? Could he see the terrible twisting machine?
And did he see it, in the instant before the ordeal
The forty days’ hellish road ahead before he reached heaven?
Did the lonesome valley stretch out before him in the gleam of the wrenching clamor,
And did he lean out and see the glow at its end?
Shriek and wail, slam and crunch.
Did the dying man see far?
And would it have been better, after all, to know what would be coming?
From plowshare to fig tree such a divide, better not to know, I think.
Certainly better for my uncle, who found him there.

Details | Samuel Moreland Poem

The Holly, but, more importantly, The Ivy

The great big oak tree casts off his coat while the rest of us put ours on,
Throwing down the golden-brown piles of spiky leaves,
A dance floor for the couple everyone’s talking about.
It’s their time now, their time in the pallid sun!
And sure, Holly might make a scene, berry-ripe in snow, like children’s faces,
But her slender partner really steals the show.
Ivy’s green, she winds, she twists, she makes her place secure – winds both ends at one go.
And oak and ash don’t mind her creeping up and down – they know.
They know as well as you and I
That when the summer’s in the sky
And flowers are all in bloom,
Ivy dies before the trees. Her time comes all too soon.

Details | Samuel Moreland Poem

The Old

The old dragon speaks The Old Lie:
There is honey in my jaws!
No more must it hunt its prey
The knights went extinct long ago
And now the rats are happy to      scramble
                                                slide
                                              fall to rise
                                          chase
                                   only to find
                            teeth
          and sans life, sans everything.

The old witch speaks The Old Lie:
Toil and trouble, I'll let you in!
Her house is sweet, and warmed by ovens.
If water is poison, how then shall she die?
And the children come like     ants
                                         from colony
                                      without community
                                growing falsely fuel-fat
                    and water cannot quench a grease-fire.

The old man speaks The Old Lie:
Things were better once, we can bring hims back!
Over-ripening citrus in the sun - fruta amarga
Front tries to hide the rot with rind
And we all lined up to say    His is the power!
                                         His the glory!
                                         Hail the reborn lord!
                                         Hail the king of Casablanca!
                                         So help us God?
                        So help us God