Campfire And Tall Tails
Friends and sons come walking into the campsite all dress in camo from their long day’s hunt
Around the crackling campfire, they all gather and sat to warm their much-needed cold wet bodies
Keeping warm with a bottle of Jack Daniels or Black Velvet, and a can of Mountain Dew being passed around
Adding more wood to the campfire so it would last through the night
With the Sons poking sticks into the embers and watching the flame spark, pop, and dance in their sight, while others roast marshmallows at the end of their sticks
The men are fixing their evening meal for all to feast on
They all gather around the campfire and sit,
Teasing and telling stories of their day’s adventure out in the woods,
Of a long, exhausting hike around the mountain,
With a vision of elk with a large crown of horns
The stories are told big and small
of the one they saw and had in their cross hairs, but a calf with its mother
Who walked in front spoiling their shot
Or a bee that stung their hand when they were ready to pull the trigger
When they‘re all done, they crawl into their sleeping bags so they can do it all over again the next day,
Watching the campfire and teasing and telling their stories
By Eve Roper 10/29/2014
I was once a little twig with dreams of being a mighty tree
So people would come from all around just to look at me
As the years started to come and go I fell in love with the wind
I would open myself big and wide swaying to the music of my friend
My rings became many and my bark was as red as red could be
Then the day finally came I was the tallest of the tallest trees
I stood tall and I stood proud and everyone knew my name
As my rings continued recording my destiny to fame
Then the fateful day it came my friend and I had a fight
Looking back I can't recall who was wrong or right
I said, "You are but the wind something people can't even see"
" And I'm the king of them all the tallest of the tallest trees"
That night the wind started to howl she really started to blow
And I the tallest of all the trees learned we reap what we sow
My roots struggled to hold on tight but without a soul around
She who had been my dearest friend knocked me to the ground
The loggers came and cut me up then shipped me away
To my soul that truly was a sad and lonely day
Torn from all I knew and loved wishing I didn't have to feel
I was cut into boards and post down at the local mill
Now I'm back here at home just a few feet away
From where my friend the wind and I used to dance and play
I'm the deck on which you stand I lay below your feet
There is a bench made of me would you care to have a seat
Sometimes in life our roles change just take a look at me
The trick is no matter who are what you are be all you can be
See I was once a little twig who became a mighty tree
And now I'm a redwood deck as proud as proud can be
And of my friend the wind she visits me everyday
So I can thank her once again for helping me find my way
God named me a straying cloud,
and by His perpetual wish I abide...
as the loneliest cloud floating on the earth's breeze.
I glance below and discover the yellow daffodils pride,
and fluttering they dance beneath the apple trees;
and as a sparrow I feel the bond.
My night visitation is more exciting than broad daylight,
I encounter many stars and make them my friends,
and they love shining on the Milky Way...
looking down on the lonely bay so bright;
and tossing their luminous heads, they brightly dance:
so happy they have come my way!
Even the ocean's waves join them in their play,
but their dance is better than theirs,
and at such wondrous sight I make verse...
being offered their warm company;
I am amazed by how they roll and still gazing away,
I do admire the spectacle that gladdens me.
So often, on my couch I gladly lie to rest,
but overwhelmed by empty or moody thoughts,
that splendid image flashes in the glow of the sunset;
my daffodils still wave and invite me to dance,
and I dance with them, making a happy sound...
not to feel the loneliness of a lost cloud.
Entered in Brian Strand's Adaption poetry contest
This is an adaption of Williams Wordsworth's poem,
"I wandered lonely as a cloud"
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
You are the wild flower in my palm
With no stem to keep you anchored to this covetous earth
You are the fragile thing I dare not cup,
As your petals whittle away under the wind
And flit unfettered in the air;
Exaggerated fear leaves my fingers numb
Hungry need leaves my fingers twitching
And my hand is paralyzed by turmoil
As every breath of wind takes another petal from me
And brings to my lungs, my chest and my heart
An overwhelming scent of need-
You are the wild beauty in my palm
And I dare not hold you to my chest
For I fear to crush you
To know first hand
That caged beauty, is beauty no more.
She slants her shining, golden glance
Across desert, mountains, rivers, plants
Greets her rising, true romance
In the purpling, opposite skies
Her lunar love, her heart’s delight
Soars to ever darker height
For each, the other’s perfect, right
It’s on their wings time flies
She seems asleep within the night
Yet always, somewhere, she’s brilliant, bright
Motionless in constant flight
Each day its own surprise
They’ll never meet – there’s not a chance
These partners in eternal dance
Of darkness, light – they both enhance
The world with their long goodbyes
As their crescent waltz achieves crescendo
Sans artifice or innuendo
Young children start to play Nintendo
While adults stir and rise
Fae circles of mushrooms
Lanky yellow toadstools
Firm jelly tot larvae
Feed from rich stagnant pools.
Fungal disks cling with wanton
To the grey trunks of trees
Cricket strums join to bird song
Sending messages of peace.
Lambent beams break through foliage
Gradient tones tint the scene
Yellow, purple, and whites
showcased by backgrounds of green.
Fractured rock nests bright flora
Compost mats engage moss
A place of breach and survival.
Nature's gain, (one might say)
is the product of loss.
The smell of the summer night air
Takes me back to times we shared
You and I dancing beneath the moon
Crickets playing a lovers tune
Trees full with lush green leaves
Whispering poetry to you and me
A view from beneath a Missouri bluff
Talking of passion, love, and lust
Your hand in mine strolling the path
Sitting on the deck and looking back
Picnic tables and barbecue grills
Driving and parking, is this for real?
My memory’s filled with your sweet love
Do you remember that snow white dove?
A kiss goodnight under a star filled sky
Best friends forever, a promise, no lie
It excites me to think that every year
Whether life or memory I return here
We will create magic again I know
On a summer night in the moon’s soft glow
Copyright © 2009 Lena “Lolita” Townsend
*inspired by John Heck’s “Summer Celebration” contest
A solitary piece the diamond
precious rare gem most treasured
by those lucky enough to hold
Once in possession it is rarely out of grasp
Like the gemstone the mother
requires very specific conditions
in holding fast her (family/) childrens love
Treasured forever in her heart
she will go out of her way
to preen and protect them
holding them dear to her
deep within her maternal safe – the heart
closely guarded by the mind
Her infatuation of all treasures to her
are totally understandable
especially when you think to the complexity
of structure and process taken in creation
Just as from the ‘unbreakable’ in ancient greek
this alletrope of carbon
with strength of bonding between atoms
is representative of that strong love
between mum and child
The maternal being could be compared
to the superlative physical qualities of the stone
Even the characteristic luster
of this gem so prevaient from its ability
to disperse light and colour
compared to the many strengths, roles and qualities
of the mother
seen by the many she deals with daily
A most high pressured job
versus the high pressured temperature
within the Earths mantle
that forms the delightful rock it gives birth to
Infants delight and ignite the forbearer
just as the jewel would dazzle the room
a mother’s love encaptures the magical luster
of those she’s birthed and nothing
stands inbetween this richest of cargo’s
The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark
The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark.
Dusty roads and fresh grass
summertime rodeos approaching fast
riding with a friend down on sandbars
A piece of hay hanging out of his mouth
though some trapped water, out the other side
I had forgotten this wonderful life
I still see some twenty year old boy helping me up
now a sixty year old man rides in front
pointing all the changes in the last five years
I could not believe what time I lost
4 am to a cowboy is not early enough
my pants soaking wet my boots fixed
We rode on down to his dads favorite spot
to meet God when the sun comes up
we turned to face it and did not say a word
God's spirit was the only thing we heard
as earth to air, and water to fire, met in the sky
right there two old friends prayed to God
Obsessed with the thought of you
wondering if it's only me or
if you sometimes remember the sweet things you've said
and if you meant them how I took them
or if I'm just obsessed with what's in your head
Obsessed with your very sentences
Every response I take personal
I know it's selfishness
Have you not noticed my eyes?
They hold secrets that only you can unlock
if you'd just take time to fill the thick juices of my pride
It's just boiling with lust, passion, trust and distrust
and other things I obsess over so much
I find myself writing to free myself from this prison I've created
where only you and I reside
I become confused about what I'm really feeling inside and I
try to rid the thoughts that are highly debated as false and I
begin to cry and
think of casting love spells so that the universe can deliver this affair
I know it's unfair
but I don't care
I'm obsessed with what hasn't happened between us
I'm obsessed with your heart and that the fact that
I don't think you've even noticed my selfish innuendos
and secret undertones that blatantly express my lust
Or maybe you have and you calmly remain in resistance of distrust
If you could only read my mind by simply touching my fingertips,
I'm sure I'd catch you out the corner of my eye biting your bottom lip
I'm obsessed with the passion and thoughts I think you have
Obsessing over an experience that I may never have....
envision harmony and mental clarity
focus on a journey of possibility
Meditate on transformation and
awareness of inner state
peace and healing
instruct your mind
to redirect the lost and struggling inner voice
Where you can’t see the wood for the trees
under your nose is the path of freedom
Put aside perceived struggles
revitalize, relax, respond
to body, mind, heart and spirit
Intuition, introspection and spiritual renewal
bring about personal healing and
Stillness of mind – concentration
Thoughts of the subconcious and subliminal
beyond all negativity
away from all interuption
To allow time for self communication and
expression of inner self
Senses – awareness of scent, sight, sound, taste and touch
Healing hands of the medical profession or alternative therapy
ambiance, temperature, oils, music, sounds and
sights of nature or universe
realisation comes in various form and shape
causing us to feel life in fullest expression
Connecting – whispers of wind
radiating everpresent warmth of sun
a blanket of love and light comforts consoles over and through the cosmos
rippling infinately through infinity outwards, onwards
connecting right back into where we are at right now
unmoved unchanged and as we were
Wise – responsible courageous allowed to let go of need to be judgemental or
let go of controlling enable trust wisdom and humility
intelligence of knowing others
wisdom of knowing self
strength in mastering others
power to master oneself
Energy -breath, force, spirit, soul, God, universe –
whatever – doesn’t matter how you refer to it on personal level
energy, balance, light, sound, vibration, peace
centered self – stillness – silent – eternal –
to have enough is a richness in itself
accept appreciate and acknowledge oneself
Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin
Whisper lies as I let you in
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail
She, Of The Cosmic Essence
Aware Of A Power
Aware Of A Presence
And Aware Of The Need For Our
Desire To Rise Higher
… and Higher
To Our Optimum Height
Patricia … You Are Like The Alaskan Lights
Those Northern Flares and Colors In Cold Night
Floating Dreams, So Mesmerizing
Patricia, Brings It To Her Poetic Themes
Such Are The Verses She Shares To View
And Reading Them, She's Showing You
Her Cosmic Essence Insight
Oh Patricia, You’re An Alaskan Light …
So, Keep Reaching, Keep Speaking … and Write !
For The Girl, Who Shared A Comfy, Snug Book Read
On One Of Her Snowy Days … (Via Her Poem- ‘Autumn’s Passing’
Also - Your Poem ‘Journey’ is One)
See … It Brought Back Some Wonderful Memories To Me …
‘ Raul Moreno, Poet- Sen•sei … ’ 56th Senryu
Like Marco Polo
Haiku Master, Moreno
Explores Nature’s Show
From Magnanimous Me (he! he!) (LOL)
Love Your Poetry,
Your Poet-Pal, MoonBee
Dancing flowers plop at fullest bloom
in the rustled yellow burnt fields.
It sways an echo after the winds
and hits the grass aside who sheilds.
The dawn casts its tangerine color
after the flattery feilds of Daisies,
and a child runs the sunrays of early dawn
to pick a daisy for her Aunt Stacey.
With her white tipped finger she pricks
herself with yellow honey substance
and tickels it under her nose for scent.
She runs out the fields to her aunt in instance.
She looked at her and smiled, patted her head.
Aunt Stacey spoke, "Honey go play for awhile and I'll meet you
back in." And the little girl ran out the door.
She put the daisy in a tiny vase where she admired it once more.
We bend low under over-hanging branches
lit by reflected river-light gently shifting.
Our boots suck the muddy bank.
We wade into clear water
the dappled up-light playing
on our serious faces.
Intent on our task
Cold-shocked I gasp.
You hold your jar steady.
I scoop mine.
Triumphant in a shower of icy prisms
we hold our prizes aloft,
laughing and shouting,
water streaming down our arms,
jars teeming with tadpoles.
Faces pressed close
to these underwater worlds,
we stand transfixed.
Each reflects a small disc
of sparkling sky.
April trees rake scudding clouds.
Far away farm dogs bark
at wind-snatched shouts
of bird-nesting boys.
Somewhere, a cuckoo calls.
In the back garden
a blackbird stakes out his territory.
Ignoring him the cat purrs,
yawning in the sun.
on the garden table
beside a upturned jar,
of flattened tadpoles
drying in the sun.
The bored cat
her tail held high
in the shape
of a question mark.
If the world were full of hippies
there'd be nothing left to prove
except peace and understanding
and a little bit of groove
Noone would be homeless
Like many live today
We'd build beautiful communes
where anyone could stay
Together we'd make music
to the beat of mother earth
there'd be no fighting or war
Everyone sharing equal worth
We'd grow our own vegetables
and create trinkets to sell
We'd open up our minds
break free from our shell
Every colour and every race
would teach one another
we'd become a united family
every sister, every brother
We'd bless all gods creatures
show respect for the land
Give free hugs to everyone
openminded to understand
Nature would speak to us
Our world would become one
with peace and understanding
and a little bit of fun
The blueing ocean
Separate eagle and dove
I do not know?
White blossoms of the Mountain Laurel
Contrasted to the waxy green leaves
Nestled under trees along the creek
Showing some of the beauty of spring
Snuggled on a blanket close to the edge
Enjoying the music that nature makes
Chirping of birds, no no not a word said
Rustle of leaves, buzz, buzzing of bees
Babbble of creek, splash of the deer's feet
Joy, oh, joy for the outdoor cheer
Wishing that we could share this time
This time of the year
I do not know?
shhh. I want to hear you.
A noise in the air is true.
Voices I hear in the blue
say shhh. It's Me Sue...
Do I hear you? Is that me
singing through? How?
Many voices inner the side
Many lives onto past rides
Many many gone bye and
by and by I listened...
Passion and compassion,
Care and dare to hear it,
When and where to pair it,
Is a simple question.
I did and dared to ask it.
Pulled apart my life to live it.
shhh. Quiet is the beat
of elegant speak and beauty
yet to be known. The smell
is sweet the colors bright
and a light is always shown.
shhh. It's Me...
and I hear your tOne.
From a well of hertz, a love
Singing trills in delightfully through my window
Perched upon my garden wall sits the little brown jacketed culprit, who
Always greets me with cheerful news
Regaling me with stories resounding from deep within his
Ruffled little chest
Often I wonder, as the years pass on
Will I always leave my window open to welcome in your good tidings?
Crab on a mission
So much inside that shell; leaves
writing in the sand
Tonight I found friends
Not in human form but;
In the land, sky and nature.
I strolled along a country road,
Taking in what the
Good Lord bestowed.
The sunshine, green grass,
Birds of the air.
One could almost hear
Our Father's voice in the
A deer ambled
Out on the road,
Not noticing I was there.
Thoughts of Him that put
Us both there.
The locust sang their
Songs in the trees.
The glorious afterglow
Of the evening, as the
Sun bids a farewell
Oh, thank you Lord
For friends like these.
I do not know?
how you make me swoon,
as you cast your ivory rays.
of costly talks
surrounded by a thunderess gaze.
Eye's of forgotten beauty
as the ivory moon hum's a song.
Never the less
I must confess,
The song that moon did sing;
Made me feel a beautiful passion
As that ivory moon
Being in denial is like sitting in an empty house,
with a moonlit forest behind it.
Coming out of denial is the new bird,
that comes and stays a while, with that little
empty house, but when winter comes,
he is off on a journey from the heavens above.
Humbled by the blessing that falls around me,
the smell, the filling, it is what I'd like to be,
Soothing to the touch like silk on her face,
feared at times for not taking shape.
Cold as a winter kiss yet hard to be missed,
cool as a summer breeze on the 1st. of August,
Hated by ones who can't see the beauty I see,
cursed by others as they hide under trees,
Wanted while alone and your tears land,
wanting it yet unable to hold it in your hand,
A friend I found years ago in a time of need,
you picked me up planted me like a rose seed,
To cover my body in any season,
to wash away my worries is the reason,
Like music and a sound all it's own,
rain drops carry my favorite tone.
Can be yours,
Whenever you feel like
A drop is Pouring down from sky and
It reaches your beautiful hair. I can be yours,
To protect your beautiful face, I can be yours, whenever
I do not know?
Up before dawn, a feeling has drawn
You into the mountain and trees.
Till the silence within, upon the whispering wind
A chime of bugles tease the breeze.
That majestic call, that is heard each fall
Since before our forefathers birth
And for those who take time, through rim rocks and pine
Listen and value their worth.
Each note high and low as each bugle ballad goes,
No two ever the same
They are all unique and if a chance to critique
Upon our hearts they claim.
We are put into state and can hardly wait
For the dawn of the upcoming morn
To glimpse hoof print in stride or a patch of hide
Or a tip of antler horn.
Just out of reach, lessons he’ll teach to those who play the game,
The tension and pull of a phantom bull, a soul never to tame.
While waiting and yearning, eyes straining, ears burning,
Ringing till you can’t hear a thing,
To early to late, can’t hardly wait,
Patience like a bee sting.
Like a ghost in the night they filter through site
They tease and bugle and brag,
As tell tale sign, weave and wind
Through timber, rocks and crags
Where a sapling tree, used to be
Now a twig broke scarred and torn
Velvet left there and shed of hair
To tell the rut has been born.
Strong elk scent, down wind is sent
From their bedded layer
They are up once again and start to transcend
Letting us know they were there.
A little to late can change a state
Hopes almost fell,
But all rise again when a bugle begins
For among elk, we dwell.
They were Meriwether Lewis and William Clark,
Her name was Sacagawea.
On an expedition they did embark
Finding the passage to the sea.
Down the Missouri they traveled,
Then slithered 'round the Snake River bend.
Rocky Mountain weather and sickness battled;
At the Columbia River they'd end.
©2013 Honestly JT