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Poems From the Porch 21

Updated on February 6, 2020
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John has been writing poetry since his school days. He was awarded the "Best Poet 2014 and 2021" Hubby Awards.

A view from the porch after the rain.
A view from the porch after the rain. | Source

All shadows of clouds the sun cannot hide

like the moon cannot stop oceanic tide;

but a hidden star can still be smiling

at night's black spell on darkness, beguiling

— Munia Khan

Poetry On Request

Once again, welcome to the porch on this rainy Thursday. Well, it was here when I wrote these poems. Thank you for visiting my porch whether you are a regular or if this is your first time. Just sit back, relax and enjoy a little poetry that other people requested. It is quite a diverse collection this week.

We are still getting plenty of rain and everything has greened up nicely. The only trouble is I am having to mow every week now whereas during the drought it was months between mows. I'm not complaining though, it is a small price to pay for regular rainfall.

If you have any requests or poetry prompts just ask in comments or send me an email and I will happily add your suggestion to my list.

Ruby Jean Richert

"We can't let this series die, so may I request one about a little Indian boy?"

Ruby, thank you for the request. I thought this would be easy but I didn't want it to be too childish so I did a bit of research and came up with this poem. More can be found out about Little Wolf by clicking this link.

At the time that I knew him, Little Wolf was a handsome man, with the native dignity and gentleness, musical voice, and pleasant address of so many brave leaders of his people.

— Charles A. Eastman
A Look Beyond
A Look Beyond | Source

A Little Indian Boy ~ Little Wolf

There was a little Indian boy

Kuckunniwi was his name,

In white man’s speak called Little Wolf.

As an adult he’d gain fame.

When he was just a little boy

One winter, food was short.

He had not eaten all day long,

This was a lesson taught.

His mother saved some buffalo meat

And placed before her son,

“My child must first learn patience

Because there are harder times to come.”

But before the boy could take the meat

A starving dog appeared,

It snatched the meat and bolted.

The mother chased, aggrieved.

She caught the thief, for punishment,

To a post the dog was tied.

But, when she raised the whip to strike

Her son grabbed her arm and cried.

“Don’t hurt him mother, let him go!

He’s just trying to survive.

To risk a beating for some meat,

He’s hungrier than I.”

This was a sign of things to come,

Little Wolf put others first.

He’d give his last mouthful of water

To others suffering thirst.

Or in the midst of winter snow,

His robe of buffalo skin,

He’d gladly take it from his back

To warm others frail and thin.

As a chieftain of the Cheyenne

He fought in Red Cloud’s war;

Signed the treaty of Fort Laramie,

And sat in the Council of Forty-four.

From an Oklahoman reservation

Little Wolf led his people in escape,

The Northern Cheyenne Exodus

To Montana in the year of 1878.

So, just one little Indian boy

Whose concern was for his fellows,

Was chosen as Sweet Medicine Chief,

A primary culture hero.

Little Coyote (Little Wolf) and Morning Star (Dull Knife), Chiefs of the Northern Cheyennes by William Henry Jackson -!9529!0&term=#focus, Public Domain,
Little Coyote (Little Wolf) and Morning Star (Dull Knife), Chiefs of the Northern Cheyennes by William Henry Jackson -!9529!0&term=#focus, Public Domain, | Source

Rosina S Khan

"For a long time, I have been trying to materialize some important goals. I say my prayers and recite the Holy Book. I read self-development books and articles. I have also written books and articles in this arena to help others so that in the process I feel inspired and receive help. I guess I still need a few more concrete tips to nail these goals of mine. So I would request you to write a poem on "The Beliefs I Should Hold to Manifest My Burning Desires"

Thank you for sharing that Rosina. I hope this poem goes some way to helping you find the answers.

If you're bored with life - you don't get up every morning with a burning desire to do things - you don't have enough goals.

— Lou Holtz

My Burning Desires

Why spend your life as just a bud

When you can become a blossom?

Turn your dreams into desires

That burn within your bosom.

Dreams are only wishes,

Something you’d like to see.

Burning desires you want so bad

You’ll ensure they come to be.

Make a plan and set strict deadlines,

Defeat your procrastination,

Praise each milestone on the way,

Celebrate with real elation.

Good artists copy, great ones steal,

At least so said Picasso.

Study those who’ve had success,

Learn from all past disasters.

Peel back the layers, strip down your goals

So every step is clear.

Make a journal, you’ll be amazed

How far you’ve come each year.

Discuss your desires with others,

Especially those you trust.

Their encouragement will motivate,

And they can prod you if they must.

So, burn your boats and bridges,

There can be no turning back.

The only way to go’s ahead,

Attack! Attack! Attack!

Burning Boat
Burning Boat | Source

Burn Your Boats

The concept of burning boats traces back to one of history’s most inspiring leadership stories in 1519. Hernán Cortés led a large expedition consisting of 600 Spaniards via 11 boats to Mexico. The goal was to capture a magnificent treasure said to be held there in a place known as Eldorado.

Upon arrival, Cortés made history by destroying his ships. This sent a clear message to his men: "There is no turning back!." They either win or they perish. (source:

Lora Hollings

"I have a suggestion for you. How about writing a poem on February especially since it's coming up soon."

Lora, this was a first for me because I have never written a poem about a month before. I had trouble at first but think it turned out okay.

Groundhog found fog. New snows and blue toes. Fine and dandy for Valentine candy. Snow spittin'; if you're not mitten-smitten, you'll be frostbitten! By jing-y feels spring-y.

— The Old Farmer's Almanac


The month of February’s here,

The shortest month in all the year.

When leap year’s fall just one in four

Let the ladies lead once more.

On the 14th day our true love shines,

Shared with our Valentine.

Chocolates, flowers, and other gifts

Give retail sales a lift.

For some a month of snow and ice,

Here it’s hot, so rain is nice.

The cyclone season’s just begun

So we’re prepared for flooding fun.

Wherever you reside on Earth

Embrace this month with mirth.

Don’t let the weather get you down,

Just learn to swim so you don’t drown.

Elijah A Alexander Jr

"How about an "ABBACDDCEFFG" rhyming scheme I have one or two I might post after you do yours, provided I feel like going to the Library another day soon."

OK, Elijah, you always challenge me with your unique requests. Here's a poem in the rhyme scheme you asked for.

Moom' and 'tomb' actually rhyme, which is something Dickinson hardly ever did, preferring near-rhymes such as 'mat/gate', 'tune/sun,' and 'balm/hermaphrodite.

— Connie Willis

Rhyming and Scheming

Poets write because they must,

Verse flows through all their veins,

Rhyme and meter clog their brains.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Writing poetry is addictive,

Once you start it’s hard to stop.

Not many poets reach the top.

Some forms are quite restrictive.

This poem is for Elijah

Who had no preference for a theme,

Though he requested this rhyme scheme,

With a flourish of my pen.

A tree under the Milky Way
A tree under the Milky Way | Source

© 2020 John Hansen


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