Poems Across America

By Robert Sanders

Simone Rowland Marcel's Perfectly Imperfect Saturday Morning 2

Simone Rowland Marcel's Perfectly Imperfect Saturday Morning 1

After presenting my wife with a picture of her, Mom and Dad's house, that I had an artist paint for her, and listening to the poem I wrote, "In this House," of their old home place, I stood proudly while my brother-in-law read the poem and 250 people sat with tears in their eyes and sobs in their tissues.

I walked into my niece's house with a simple sheet of paper in my hand. She was preparing to attend her son's funeral and sat crying by the window. I handed her the paper on which I had written the poem, "Hand-in-Hand." She wiped her eyes and read it, then stood up and hugged me.

"That is so beautiful Uncle Bob. How did you know, 'Lighthouses' were his favorite collection hobby?

I had printed the poem on a paper, with a beautiful, faded lighthouse in the background.

Poetry expresses what the spoken word sometimes can't!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9781662475658

Book preview

Autumn

The wind blows sharply through the trees,

As leaves begin to fall,

Soon will autumn’s colors fade,

As winter comes to call.

I watched the fog lift quietly,

Toward the rising sun,

Leaving tiny drops of dew,

To fall on everyone.

I see a squirrel run out the limb,

Of a nearby tree,

Then watch him jump leisurely,

Beyond the sight of me.

A roughed grouse does his reporting drum,

To greet the newborn day,

And just a glimpse of him I see,

As he flies away.

But soon will come the drifting snow,

Upon the forest floor,

Again as nature paints her world,

As many times before.

The autumn forest is an extremely fascinating animal kingdom.

With a quiet that erupts into many sounds as the day breaks through a heavy fog.

Robert F. Sanders (September 15, 1959)

This poem is a remake of the first poem I ever wrote. I was in the Army at Sandia Base as a clerk in the Officer Training Branch.

Eerie Sight

What twist of fate brought me here,

To where I sit tonight,

As a billion lights dance below,

And cast their eerie light.

Perhaps the drift of a lazy breeze,

Brings this magic show,

As she slips into sunset,

More splendor does she show.

The city lights are running wild,

The brightness from her cast,

By the powers of man who conquered her,

And wrenched her from her past.

The stroke of fate that brought me here,

Did to her the same,

Before me her lights she shares,

Quiet, warm, and tame.

Peacefully does she now rest,

Upon the valley floor,

’tis my moment in eternity,

But hers forever more.

The early night lights of Albuquerque seem to dance in the breeze that almost constantly exist, creating one of the most amazing light shows you’ll ever see as you enter from the west side of town.

Robert F. Sanders (March 25, 2001)

Evil Sword

Where might a man walk on this earth,

That he will find no pain?

Where might he find the shadows shade,

Instead of falling rain?

Within his heart he feels for those,

Who fell by Satan’s hand,

Though he knew not a single soul,

That perished in our land.

Lift up the sword and strike the stone,

For man must fight a curse,

Of sin upon our troubled world,

Indeed the universe.

Peace may be our country’s goal,

But it ended with a scream,

Tossing evil in our face,

To shatter of our dream.

No battle fought, no rest shall be,

’though many young men die,

No effort shown, a coward’s face,

Shall our flag forever fly.

Surrender is an unfound word,

’though protesters fill the land,

Good must fell the evil sword,

Or die upon the sand.

We as Americans are the world’s leaders in caring for our fellow man. We must never attack again without provocation, as in Vietnam and Iraq, both irritations to us but both unnecessary. Certainly not worth sixty thousand young men and women’s lives!

Robert F. Sanders (October 20, 2001)

Freedom’s Candle

Forever on a gentle wind,

I sail within my dreams,

From the mountaintop among the clouds,

To the coolness of the streams.

Across the prairie’s waving grain,

To our cities golden glow,

America, alive and real,

Freedom’s magic show.

I ride the wind with a heart that’s free,

Then sail into the sun,

As the spirit dreams, the heart will seek,

Until my day is done.

For here freedom rings for all,

Be one, rich or poor,

A candle in a world of sin,

Shall glow forevermore.

Maybe our country can never accomplish freedom for the world as we have done for ourselves. Perhaps it is not meant to be! But I don’t believe America will ever fall to evil because of the spirit and colossal high that freedom puts us on.

I see it constantly in every town I visit, or along the roads.

I feel it in my heart and see it in the faces of foreign visitors that I come to meet or pass in my daily life. But let us not forget: America defends freedom but should not become an aggressor with a sword.

Robert F. Sanders (July 8, 2005)

Haunting Pool

The desert speaks with silent words,

Its dunes that change each day,

With no respect for life or soul,

Lures its powerless prey.

Footprints lead into the sand,

Whose heart will search in vain,

For the pool that flutters there,

But a parody of rain.

Wind stirs with the devil’s twist,

Scars the discerning eye,

With tears of mercy, waves of fear,

Churning in the sky.

Reaching now for the haunting pool,

His waning spirits sing,

Finds it gone into the sun,

On a silent crystal wing.

Now resting on his feeble knees,

To his master prays and cries,

The pool he sought was but a myth,

Flooding where he dies.

So real are some of the mirages seen here that one day my son backed his car up a quarter mile to look at a lake we had just passed when it didn’t appear on our map. It’s there when we backed up, gone when we moved on. This was near Hatch, New Mexico.

Robert F. Sanders (August 12, 2002)

Ike and Woody

Where lies the difference in these two men?

One must search to find their connection.

Could it be their strong national loyalty,

pride, desire and ability to win?

But one in war, the other in sport.

Fierce competition, desire for perfection.

To compare these two men is to compare the

Earth to Mars.

Woody controlled his war from the sidelines.

He taught his men to get up when they fell.

Ike ran his war from his central war room.

Many of his men couldn’t get up when they fell.

Woody studied and preached history.

Ike fought, wrote, and controlled history.

Woody agonized when he lost.

Ike never lost.

Woody’s goal was a national championship.

Ike’s was a world championship.

One was because we’re free,

The other, to keep us free.

One had stars upon his shirt,

The other, on his field.

Both believed in the USA until the very end,

One walked as the president, the other struck a friend.

Both now lie within the earth, the sod above their heads,

Both great men within our land, but both lie with the dead.

Ike—what was Ike like?

Woody—the great Woody.

Both American heroes

Robert F. Sanders

I Have Lived

I feel my soul overflow with excitement,

feel pride, magic, mostly freedom,

a deep peace within.

I see the mountains, their streams,

feel the highway as I pass by.

I talk with my loved ones,

share their happiness, this gift, this hour.

For I feel freedom, see freedom, love.

What brings me to this hour?

This magic? This great gift I share?

Others, I think. Others who gave.

Others who gave their lives so I may live.

Share happiness.

I dream as the saguaro pass by,

their silhouette on the stone,

Must be, they move, for slowly do I.

Man’s magic can’t capture, nor words,

express adequately, what I see, feel.

How deep I live.

This hour of fantasy, majestic, completely,

I must live every moment,

to see this magic, feel this excitement.

Then shall I rest within this paradise,

for I have lived, so completely have I lived.

Sometimes a release of endorphins allows an individual to share a moment of ecstasy that would otherwise go unnoticed. It’s in the moment with loved ones and beautiful surroundings.

Robert F. Sanders (July 8, 2001)

Old Homeplace

As I drove by the old homeplace,

My mind began to roam,

I felt the warmth of the evening fire,

That graced our country home.

In a small log house on a country stream,

My parents’ love would grow,

As they walked hand in hand,

Many years ago.

A meadow ran to the foot of a hill,

With daisies tall and white.

As the sun set, ’twas the whip-poor-will,

Singing into night.

Autumn rains on the metal roof,

Danced with heavy feet,

And the hills ablaze with colors burst,

Nature’s double treat.

It’s quiet now as it lays at rest,

I turn and drive away.

A moment’s trip to another time,

At the close of a summer day.

There was no electricity in the old house and no running water. It was a bath in the creek in summertime and on Saturday night in winter. I would sit and watch nightfall until well after dark and wonder of the many stars above. My great-great-grandpa Elisha Sanders came from Virginia in 1840 and bought the old farm near Vesuvius, Lawrence County, Ohio, and he—as we—got his water from the well.

Robert F. Sanders (May 17, 1999)

Oregon Trail

Across the plains as yesterday,

Their mark still on the land,

Where once they rolled in search of home,

Beyond the desert sand.

Their ghosts still drift among these hills,

Their whisper in the wind,

A search upon the frontier plains,

Their elusive, haunting end.

Pools of raindrops puddle now,

Where once their wheels turned,

Ashes charred and pits remain,

One time their campfires burned.

Along the river that bears this name,

As it snakes through Idaho,

An endless journey of death and pain,

Westward they would go.

The pioneers upon the plains,

Were driven by a goal,

For adventure, freedom, or pure greed,

They bared their very soul.

Just outside of Twin Falls, Idaho, along the banks of the Snake River, the wagon wheel trail still remains. I stopped along the highway and could see it clearly for maybe a half mile. The same area the ramp where Evel Knievel chickened out and pulled his chute over the same river.

Robert F. Sanders (April 9, 2001)

Phoenix

Rising, from the ash of a fiery hell,

That once consumed this land,

By the hand of man you stand supreme,

Upon this desert sand.

Your majestic mountains, eternal towers,

Shadow your valley floor,

Where once your bubbly lava flowed,

Ten million autos tour.

Gallantly you spread your wings,

Below this blazing sun,

And cast your magic hold on man,

Too fragile now to run.

This land where life could least exist,

You clamped your deathly grip,

And those whose spirits you controlled,

Would port their sailing ship.

This hour I gaze upon your mass,

I hear your music sing,

And wonder, what charm you held,

Before you spread your wing?

From land that once was ringed by fire,

You rose into the sun,

Then glow do you beneath the stars,

When each day is done.

It is always nice to visit Phoenix with its majestic setting among the mountains. Although the mountains are not tall in altitude, they are a perfect setting for the low elevation of the city. Phoenix, as was Albuquerque, was a magical town to visit when I was young. Life afforded me both over the years. But, my thinking, just too hot.

Robert F. Sanders (July 4, 2000)

Shadows of the Centuries

Shadows of the centuries,

Reflect from high above,

This barren, but enchanted land,

Scarred with fear, not love.

Perhaps upon these sacred plains,

Once the mighty trod,

Just shadows of their past exist,

Their spirits with their god.

Scars that once show of a mighty sea,

Now silhouette the land,

But legends of its storied past,

Leave footstep in the sand.

An echo, ’though faint the sound,

Stirs within the wind,

Their images float above the plains,

Destined to the end.

A deafening silence lingers near,

As do clouds that dot the sky,

Legends slowly fade through time,

But their spirits never die.

Perhaps the open plains are sacred as once they were covered by the ocean. When the eye can see a hundred miles, clear sky behind you, a storm approaching, and maybe never reaching you are common here. Nighttime brings, if not a haunting feeling, loneliness, which is abundant.

Robert F. Sanders (May 18, 2000)

That Dear Flag

I hear the winds of autumn,

On my cabin door,

And I feel an urgency,

I have felt before,

In the days of yesteryear,

Life’s eternal door.

I feel a wave of sadness,

As a pain stirs inside,

I walked across my bedroom,

Dread with every stride,

When I recalled my answer,

My heart filled with pride.

I joined my country’s armor,

There to take a stand,

To offer life for freedom,

I held up my hand,

Proudly, did I fill my shoes,

In this promise land.

I see in the morning sun,

Shining like the stars,

Above my door and sidewalk,

Gently through the hours,

Waving as the autumn grain,

That dear flag of ours.

Sixty years ago, this month life was filled with dread as I was confused, misdirected, and had no job. It seemed trouble was on every corner. My answer, I joined the Army. And by the summer of ’59, I felt a satisfaction that I had never felt before. It remains today as it was that fantastic year.

Robert F. Sanders (October 2, 2018)

Woven Stone

Above the Colorado,

in the warmth of autumn sun,

an image of another time,

what power of man has done.

The woven stone appears grown there,

each one firmly placed,

as if nature with her skill,

patiently had laced.

A city built upon the plains,

as the Colorado feeds,

from the clouds the shadows fall,

man brings the wishful needs.

There above the winding stream,

lanterns tarnished green,

light the path majestically,

evolving years are seen.

A bridge from another time,

in a land far away,

stands upon this ventilate lane,

a vestige on this day.

As I sat having lunch at a nearby restaurant, and looking at the London Bridge, I experienced déjà vu. A crowd of people were milling around on the restaurant’s outside patio. I had a complete picture of another time, perhaps at the turn of the twentieth century. Perhaps my previous life!

Robert F. Sanders (November 5, 2018)

Beauty around Us

Above the Clouds

A gentle rain, a foggy day,

A smile from my friend,

A soft hello, I love you too,

A leaf upon the wind.

Give me your hand, give me your trust,

Walk gladly by my side,

We’ll face the world, and its fears,

Strongly and with pride.

For you, my love, my darling one,

Each day you give me will,

So as we rise above the clouds,

We’ll conquer every hill.

When in time as we turn gray,

We’ll walk with no regret,

For autumn’s beauty is your smile,

Your love is my sunset.

The brightest star in my heaven,

I love you too.

Bob (July 20, 2019)

Dreams from Youth

I can still remember the quiet,

the quiet of the forest around me,

and the ripple of a stream,

a stream of crystal clear water.

Together they formed a perfect union

of peace and tranquility.

This was youth innocent and tender,

this was going to school the first year.

Autumn was a rainbow of colors,

and a rattle of leaves at my feet

as the aroma of my surroundings

brought pleasure and new life.

Excitement exploded within me

and untold dreams filled my imagination.

The realm of eternity soared nearby

that only