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Best Poems Written by Wayne Sapp

Below are the all-time best Wayne Sapp poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Wayne Sapp Poem

Cardinal At the Feeder

The brittle stems of Queen Anne's Lace
reduced to barren winter bone;
a hoarfrost Ermine coat embrace,
impaled in soil that's turned to stone.

The flowers now are wicker cups,
wear Bowler's hats of purest white;
the snowflakes that they interrupt
await the wind; resume their flight.

The Junco in the Prairie Grass,
drad colors blending, stem and snow; 
his flitting business come to pass
without a glimpse of style, or show.

White crystal mist; the morning still,
a cold and colorless display;
the fenceposts marching up the hill
like soldiers, slowly fade away.

This day in its entirety 
constructed thus to fit the mood,
cabin bound and winter weary,
must you in my lament intrude?

From deep within the Cedar tree
in blazing red from cap to tail,
you interrupt my woe-is-me,
insure my pensive mood will fail!

Details | Wayne Sapp Poem

Wooden Markers

"There was an old cemetery 
in that fence row.
Thirty some graves I've heard;
no record of it at the court house."

The neighbor pointed past 
the corn rows, 
Round Up sterile,
to posts askew 
like aged teeth;
broken wire pulled down by sod,
prickly with random barbs 
and wild roses.

          No sign of it, or them,
who might be there yet,
no concrete vault 
or weather weary headstone 
to chip the disk blades.

Gone with 
the builder of the fence
ever fertile dust,
scattered by the plow.

Details | Wayne Sapp Poem

Dining With Crow

In dress, mortician's finery
pure ebony entire,
eshewing tints of purity,
He dropped in by my fire.
It was His island after all;
his chapel ceiling, trees
I see what little I possess
and He
          Possesses what He sees.

The trickster of the Inuit
this feathered deity,
I thought He wished to share the Pike
His lake gave up to me.
But thrifty with His speech He was,
As Gods are want to be,
He came around to share my meal
That's all
          the time He had for me!

Details | Wayne Sapp Poem

Buddy

Ross still rides his Harley, if the weather's good.
Can't get away much, like he used to.
Thursday morning breakfast with the airplane guys,
Talking farm prices;
what the dog's been doing.
He can't stay long; she can't be alone.
"She's been fading lately.
Sixty years together and she doesn't know
who I am sometimes."
     But the dog does.

He'll leave early, be home to fix her breakfast 
when she wakes.  She'll not be appreciative.
Doesn't think about the cost anymore,
to bent, arthritic body parts.
Sometimes she won't eat what he prepares.
     But the dog will.

Ross doesn't hear the banter;
he's staring through his oatmeal bowl,
counting fearful minutes.
     "How's Buddy," I ask?
Ross comes slowly back, eyes refocused.
He smiles.
     "I wouldn't take a thousand dollars for that dog."

Details | Wayne Sapp Poem

Maisey's Love

I didn't know the sunlight 'till she brought it to the house,
or how much better pancakes are when shaped like Mickey Mouse.
I've learned that giving horsey rides can carpet burn your knees;
that lunch is not complete without that gormet Mac and cheeze.

She'll climb in the recliner and hop up on my lap,
if I am quick to promise she's not there to take a nap,
and what an easy thing it is when it comes time to chose,
the two of us and Sponge Bob or just me and evening news.

We watch the Disney movies, every witch and cartoon dog,
Schrek and Harry Potter, every Princess, every frog.
The table in the dining room's a Kingdom end to end;
Cinderellea's plastic castle's there and every molded friend.

I've learned to loosen Play Dough up when it's sat out too long,
and when I'm singing Taylor swift, I get the lyrics wrong.
A crayon beats a marker for original design,
and it ain't real important that we stay inside the line.

She finds my taste in literature is just a bit obtuse,
'cause there aren't any Princesses in books by Doctor Suess.
Outside to build a snow man, her giggles keep me young;
love is watching Maisey catch the snowflakes on her tongue.

Details | Wayne Sapp Poem

Let Me Go First

Let Me Go First

Gravity's getting stronger every year
and my final day here is beckoning.
My sure demise holds nothing that I fear
more than the pain that losing you will bring.
I beseech you love, let me lead the way,
I'll find that gentle place; return to dust,
don't leave me first, not for a single day,
just let me go and join me when you must.
Our lives, our love so very entertwined,
One mind, one heart two bodies came to share,
unbreakable these satin ties that bind,
I must go first and leave them in your care.
It was ordained the morning of my birth,
to love you 'till I lie beneath the Earth.

Details | Wayne Sapp Poem

Old Bill

In Memory of Jimmy Dale Still, Barrel horse rider, KIA,  Song Be, Viet Nam, 1/1/70

Old Bill,
swaybacked, sand burrs in his mane.
He stands no longer hopefull by the fence up near the house,
but follows the shade around the shed,
switching flys.

Nearby the dented barrels
rust rank and file akimbo,
no longer equadistant prey 
of steed and gladiator.

Hay in a self feeder.
The last time Jimmy came to break a bale,
carrot in his pocket, bridle in hand,
they were both young,
impetuous,
fearless,
     bullet proof.

Bill's walked a trail, deep, 
along the fence to the old arena.
Quiet now; full of weeds.
A place for breaking horses.

Details | Wayne Sapp Poem

Volcano

D~ormant this volcano was; a rock face,
E~ver cynical and mute, gaunt and cold
S~now covers the peak and the hollow place
I~nside a burning heart is kept on hold.
R~esistance fails; love like lava's trace
E~ruptions of emotion, rare as gold.

Details | Wayne Sapp Poem

Doves

A few random sticks;
the nest of a Mourning Dove.
As fragile as peace.

Details | Wayne Sapp Poem

Reluctant Warrior

U~nbidden, the draft was upon me,
N~ewly turned from the halls of high school.
I~nspired by the Vets at the legion,
T~o enlist and become Uncle's tool.
E~xpecting to serve with distinction,
D~ogma served warm and fresh to a fool.

S~ent off as a man-child to Asia,
T~o enroll in a myopic war,
A~nd line pockets of war profiteers;
T~ransfer bleeding from wealthy to poor.
E~verything that I learned in that conflict
S~ent the message to soldier no more.

A~nd finding no reason for staying,
R~ealized that my motive and drive,
M~y labor was chosen to ensure
Y~oung soldiers would return home alive.