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David Archuletta Poem
The wants of her heart beckoned of lonely streets
Longingly,
Like the summertime wail of the Snow Fence
When empty winds through weathered pickets
Howl for the cold company it keeps
Copyright © David Archuletta | Year Posted 2009
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David Archuletta Poem
It began in the innocent spring of life
This of which, never did share
Spent summer of youth
… One in blanket gaze
While, she of long reaching, __ mystic stare
Now stirs autumn winds
Whispers of twice-cried tears
Two stories tell, each welling deep
The chambered nautilus of harbored fear
Maybe forever, shared song of winter’s discontent
Yet strings play on
As purveyed souls, soon greet seasons, never meant
Copyright © David Archuletta | Year Posted 2009
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David Archuletta Poem
Exchanged pleasantries
Now vowed
Ensconsed
Memories
Copyright © David Archuletta | Year Posted 2009
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David Archuletta Poem
You do not sit well with me
For now I have strong legs and a sturdy back
Trusting eyes are blind, but now all do see
The cut of your plan
The strain of your ways
Unethically callous of highest degree
Devoid of abstract ways would not detract
Certainly be, children naïve in streets
To recognize difference of red and black
From this day, I will not carry your load
My offered recumbence
Is to those of Stienbeck quality, reminiscent, Joad
Your posture’s recline, this Board of Twelve Chairs declines
The power of your seat
Should be of the electric kind
Copyright © David Archuletta | Year Posted 2009
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David Archuletta Poem
The curvature of her body The sculpting of her mind
A chicane With an Edge
Purposed to find
This river twisted they failed to quest
For the flow of an essence, a river bed carved
Its ocean journey never gave less
With agitated sea of reason
Its conscience slipped deep in the brine
Once a reef of clarity On ocean floor darkest
Now lays with coral skeletons of time
Lost to the moray of her smile Years past
If existed concern or reflect
For beauty with an edge As in ocean deep
Her estuary fixating A sweet chicane of twice effect
The beauty of silence Is a song the moray does sing
Storied is its sight Welled of illusion
A fleeting enchantment A nightmare in dream
With drop step glance And upswept eyes, a melody loosed of her song
The piercing shards of subtle iniquity
A sharper vision Did not any belong
With cast eyes, brought a letting of his soul
Rivulets of its being With she, reminisce Whispered song
In chambered heart Her nautilus keepsakes of long ago
Just as the "Song of the Moray" Which passed through silent gill
The receding lashed wake of their voiceless harmony
On empty beach its effervescence it did instill
Copyright © David Archuletta | Year Posted 2007
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David Archuletta Poem
Storms of sorrow,
Etch furrowed rows
Ingrained of sad memories past
Carved deep in brow
A mounted warrior of Ghost Dance last
Storms of sorrow,
The will, nor image could force
Stoic in nature, as brazen of life
A granite warrior's likenesses, emulate it's only source
Storms of sorrow,
Upon brow of the "Nation"
Instill change, in a memory's course
From atop Lakota Black Hills
Emerges the legend, the legend of the one called Crazy Horse
Copyright © David Archuletta | Year Posted 2008
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David Archuletta Poem
Pained memory A hurt of kind
Inbedded deep This tapeworm of time
Like the distant rings of Saturn
Now on outer edges Once the centers core
Still lashed by length of reach
Peices from the heart
Fed-upon, forevermore
Copyright © David Archuletta | Year Posted 2007
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David Archuletta Poem
Ice Recedes, Polar Bears Sneeze, Eskimos ____ Trees?
Copyright © David Archuletta | Year Posted 2009
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David Archuletta Poem
Our first drawn breath A symbolic pact
Stating Mother Nature's works as natural acts
Without sayers of fortune
Or circled hands professed of shine
Only an arachnid's sky bound brood
Did manifest her vision in his mind
In morning bright
Were shooting strings and streaks of gleams
Trailing little things
Wishing stars in broad daylight
Little green spiders
Previously felt A feeling's core
Same of nature Only different than the one before
In pre-launch mid-morn sun
Lashed to strands of silken catchers of wind were shimmering pieces of her
dreams, each silent image a reflective portrait, her beautiful ways and means
Ushered gently aloft in a morning's breeze
In colors deluxe
Sequences of movie scenes flashed on Golden-Era silver screens
Born from spinnerets of spider 'lings
To glide across our mind on glistening linear wing
As if on cued melody each streaming web reflected times of a young love past
Holding hands or sitting on the grass
Carefree without worry, they thought forever their days would sing
Standing graveside of a long lost bride
A gray-haired man smiled as he cried, did ask in jest
"My dear, in what manner or form will your collusion de jour with
nature haunt me next."
We love these moments of past dreams dreamt, regardless they be natural acts
or heaven sent
Copyright © David Archuletta | Year Posted 2007
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David Archuletta Poem
A Cloudburst
Only now too clear, _ it seems…
Lifted on haunches of late morning mists
A long lost sun once pulled from blue skied dreams
Only now too clear, _ it seems…
That never known before
Past early morning’s darkened clouds had schemed
A callused heart; tracked by tears that had since run dry
Hadn’t waked me to say goodbye
I never knew that sunless day, stowed away
Copyright © David Archuletta | Year Posted 2009
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