Best Adirondack Poems
Hudson Valley, New York
Oh, Hudson Valley, place that I call home,
you hug the river from which came your name.
On fertile banks, the settlers came to roam
and stayed to prosper and your land proclaim.
Your winding Hudson River grew their dreams
with farmlands, orchards and new industries,
and lovely homes that languish in your scenes
atop green rolling hills with graceful trees.
And from my window, you present to me
the vision of your peaceful valleys and
the sparkling river waters that flow free
from north to south thru Hudson Valley land.
When weary from the stresses of each day...
I relish in the peace your views portray.
Sandra M. Haight
~2nd Place~
Contest: Sonnet About Where You Live
Sponsor: Silent One
Judged: 01/07/2017
Note: The Hudson River begins at Lake Tear of the Clouds in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York. It flows to the tip of Manhattan in the southern part of the state.
My home is in Newburgh, a town along the Mid-Hudson Valley, sixty miles north of New York City.
Categories:
adirondack, home,
Form:
Sonnet
God was so pleased with his six days of creation
The seventh day He declared a day of rest
Bound to have some heavenly
Well-deserved relaxation
As soon as He woke up
He brewed a cup of java and
Set up his most comfy Adirondack chair
On his fluffiest favorite cloud
And so on this seventh day
A most magnificent morning unfolded
Watching from every conceivable angle
One glorious sunrise after another
By noon for Sunday brunch
God challenged his angels to make
The tallest fruit salad unimaginable
For a rendez-vous on the Hawaiian islands
The first summer games
Were held that very afternoon
Playful racing with dolphins
And swimming in the seven seas
Then dusk began to fall
All were cordially invited to board
The fabulous celestial party bus
For a ‘round the world premiere trip
Westbound capturing one endless sunset
For hours and hours of a colorful joyride
Ending with a final detour to the north
For a late night aurora borealis show
AP: 3rd place 2020
Submitted on February 6, 2019 for contest 2019 POETRY MARATHON MILE 17 sponsored by MARK TONEY
and on October 9, 2018 for contest WHAT DID GOD DO ON THE SEVENTH DAY? sponsored by CURTIS MOORE
Categories:
adirondack, color, creation, fun, games,
Form:
Free verse
Soft leaves underfoot, mosaics of nature
Sleeping in shadows of yawning maples
Beneath these stretching branches I roam
Foot steps in rhythm with a woodpecker’s cadence
Humming to the harmony of dawn’s cool breeze
Sunlight weaves past distant mountain peaks
Warming my face, enhancing my vision
Miles evaporate like morning dew
Moments become an ever changing serenity
For happiness waits at the end of this journey
Clear waters race between glistened stone
I splash my face in anticipation of a new day
Dreaming of her on an Adirondack kind of morning
Following a path through the mirrors of my thoughts
Listening for the endless echoes of love
Peaceful vistas beckon my heart’s desires
Cleansing my soul in lilac wanderings
Breathing the air of solitude affection
Knowing this sunrise lifts her from sleep
Praying her first thought is of me
Categories:
adirondack, love, morning, nature,
Form:
Free verse
I lie back in our Adirondack chair,
And feel the soft breeze over sunset waves,
Drowsiness claims my senses. and
I imagine that ship in the distance I see
Shining in the last bit of day
Is my captain coming home to me.
In my heart I hear the flapping canvas,
The splashing of the oars,
And the jolly songs of sailor boys
Filled with happy anxiety.
Tattered and torn they may be
From their months riding on the sea,
For a while they will be home,
Though they will soon again roam
To the call of their passion, their love.
My captain warned me of a wife's loneliness,
But I love him more than any longing.
He is the holder of my heart,
And my life is my prayer for his safe return.
But it is only a seaside dream.
Categories:
adirondack, dream, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
A polite rain
joined me briefly
before heading uptrail
to leave me standing, alone,
in a suddenly steaming forest.
I wrote this on a hike in the Adriondacks to to Mt Marcy, the highest mountain in New York State. My Adirondack Guide indicated that Tahawus was the a first Nation (Iroquois ??) name for the mountain and it meant “cloud-splitter.” I decried that the mountain is now named "Mt. Marcy"after William L. Marcy, who as Governor of New York (1833-1839), authorized the geological survey that explored the area. I speculated that this is why there is so little poetry in our time.
However, a later Wikipedia search revealed that the name was likely never used by the aboriginal peoples of the area to refer to the mountain, and its meaning, may have no roots in any language.
Categories:
adirondack, mountains,
Form:
Free verse
In the green Adirondack foothills lies
the haven of our old summer camp,
once a place of adventure and outdoor joy,
and the loud cries of precocious scamps,
their energy you never could tamp,
scurrying ’round on small, rapid feet,
leaping into the pond without a beat.
I remember coming here myself,
gazing up at the grand totem pole,
the mess hall with fieldstone fireplace,
where countless tall-tales were told,
and lordy, was the pond bitter cold!
There was a trading post for candy, snacks,
and toilets which all amenities lacked…
To scampering kids it felt like we were
far off in a rugged wilderness,
that tall white pines just rolled on
in a vast and uncharted forest,
and we were just the ones to explore it!
The only sign of steel on our trails
was a pair of rusted, forgotten trial rails.
Then I came back here as an adult
and found the revelry was long passed,
the town had bought up all the old camp,
no kids raced swiftly ’cross the grass,
it had been too good of a place to last,
folks blamed it on poor demographics,
cell phones, and parents afraid of risk.
I suppose I should be thanking the town,
because the made the space into a park,
at the very least it will be preserved,
even though it’s missing that old spark,
and youngsters sprinting ’round on a lark,
they’re even cleared out some new ground…
by tearing half the rustic buildings down.
The trading post, now a picnic pavilion,
the staff cabins now an empty field,
the docks pulled up and carted away,
the pond belongs now to minnows and eels,
not entirely sure how I feel,
out there we swam and swamped canoes,
now it’s blocked off from public use.
The mess hall, at least, is still standing,
they say it’s becoming a historic sight,
but to see it still present, all alone,
somehow just doesn’t feel all that right,
with its clap-board fading in bright sunlight,
at least the boat-house still rises near,
though it’s probably collapse within the year.
I turned away in a very glum mood,
made my way to my car rather slow,
thinking of all I had done here
that my children are never going to know,
there are few places like this left to go.
it brings a well-known though to my mind:
Damn you, damn you, damn you time!
Categories:
adirondack, childhood, lost, remember, sad,
Form:
Rhyme Royal
Out of the corner of my eye
I see a tree
The beauty of it seems to speak to me
I wind down the dry dirt road
And find myself eye to eye
With an Orange Grove!
The beauties are bulging.
With Bright orange fruit
Their citrus scent filling the air
To my right, a garden of greens,
Even an Adirondack chair!
The wheat grows tall just across the way
The bows of the trees sway
Seems as if they’re trying to say
“Hello! Good day!”
Oh walking along, on this bright harvest day
2-20-15
Inspired by painting entitled: Joe’s Corner
Categories:
adirondack, beautiful, earth, food, fruit,
Form:
Rhyme
Away from the world
from the hustle and bustle
making friends with the residents
tucked in
among the cattails and bank of elephant ears
sitting in the dainty, mahogany lean-to
It seems it is just the screen that prevents me from sharing their world
a world where they can all live freely
but I too have all I need
hidden down here
everything is teeming with the excitement of life
yet so calm at the same time
the bullfrogs croak and splash around
the dragonflies come up to hum a hello from outside the screen
trying to tempt me to cross to the other side
of the barrier
even the giant elusive ones
which can usually be found seeking refuge in the tall weeds surrounding
the water
attempt to lure me out
but I remain glued
against my comrades wishes
to the green adirondack chair in which I reside
I continue to watch as little water bugs bound across the surface
leaving miniscule ripples in their wakes
I sit and observe as the tabby leaps around
disturbing this peaceful moment
but I let her enjoy her adventure
released from my trance and emerging from behind the screen
only when the sun begins to fade
night
the time to build a fire under the stars
and to dance
to twirl around with the lightning bugs to the tune of the tree frogs
chirping
I could stay here forever in my favorite hideaway
down by my pond in Long Lake
where I am free
free to think and catch my breath
to relax and enjoy the little things that make me smile
without the usual interruption of real life
The willow sways
and puts me at ease
as I admire my freedom once more
Categories:
adirondack, appreciation, earth, feelings, home,
Form:
Free verse
There is a house on Nashatuck hill in Concord
with beautiful open spaces
It was built in the 1930s
and it has an Adirondack style porch that looks out over
a small valley and Concord center
The house has three stories
and on every story the detail work is craftsmanship
shining wood railings
grand moldings
I don’t know who lives there now
I only saw it once like a boy whose eyes meet yours
that you never forget somehow
I am sure by now some wonderful wealthy people have moved in
and given it beautiful colors
filled it with beautiful lamps and light and laughter
I am sure it has become a show place where people come
and go and ohh and ahhh and laugh and eat
and chink glasses
and I will always remember it just like a boy I loved once
even thought I may never step foot inside it’s doors again
Categories:
adirondack, first love,
Form:
Free verse
At the foot of the massive massif bluffs which bounce atop upstate New York,
The air is thick with suburban smog bottled beneath the mountains' unpopped cork.
The fumes from factories of the foothill folk have feigned a fluorescent flora:
Sickly neon trees which litter the mountains' feet with a parasitized dimming aura.
Yet through the upward winding roads which sprint through the veins of Troy,
A thinning air begins to brag of a bigger breath that which a tree might better enjoy.
For in the Adirondack Park, where a mile up is met by one hundred and sixty wide,
The savior of the Mountain Air sits above the broken boundaries beneath her sides.
Rescued from the valley below where breath is but a wanton worry of what comes next,
I've been blessed with a chance to escape from the underworld of wires, screens and texts.
I thank these mountains for their unblemished air which echoes with songs of loons,
Who skim across the trickled placid puddles of lake where people party upon pontoons.
I owe the Mountain Air for my view of life as love,
A sight some miss without a chance to see from up above.
Categories:
adirondack, love, nature, new york,
Form:
Couplet
Meanwhile, our troop moved on down the trail.
One more bear episode needs be told.
We arrived at the next stop with out fail.
It was late evening and beginning to get cold.
Two of us went to the horse spring for a bath
And use the same one to clean our clothes.
As we left the spring we saw blocking our path.
A mother bear and two cubs, ...fear arose.
We hid behind a tree and watched them.
In our unlaced boots, carrying wet things.
As they walked up the path toward the rim.
We knew we couldn’t just appear threatening.
We slowly followed keeping the cubs in sight.
The mother had left the weanlings.
But reappeared on top of a bank on the right.
As she jumped we started yelling and arms flinging.
They ran, she ran, we gathered our stuff and we ran.
Yelling and flailing, we chased them past the adirondack
We...right behind, duck into it fast as we can
and tie the gate before they could come back.
Come back they did and playfully bite on the wire.
The boys were elated and good pictures taken,
To show their friends that none of us was a liar.
Bruce and I recovered after being so visibly shaken.
They finally left, and so came to a fitting end,
Our last bear episode and good laugh,
The other boys had at our expense and chagrin.
On the oldest boy and the “chief of staff”.
We hiked our last six miles with no major events.
Still time to glow for being a trail survivor.
Fontana resort awaited...hot showers, condiments
Then home...all slept soundly, except me... the driver.
© Mar 30 2010 Charles Henderson
Categories:
adirondack, adventure, nature, placesspring, mother,
Form:
Quatrain
I was out walking on a trek
through forested Adirondack hills,
looking for a good place to camp,
to drop my pack and just chill.
It was a weekend excursion,
and I’d already done eight miles,
seeking out the kind of peace
a man only finds in the wild.
Summiting a gentle knoll,
the forest dropped by the wayside,
for a moment I couldn’t register
what lay before my eyes.
There stood a sprawling logging camp,
hewn from rough, fallen trees,
and a beaten path where horses
had trod upon the scene.
I stood there in stunned silence,
how could this all exist?
How could they be profitable,
and in this modern world persist?
Maybe It was a niche thing,
some sort of nostalgic deal,
or a camp of recreationists
who wanted to make it ‘real.’
Just then one of the ‘jacks waved,
and I walked into their camp,
He smiled, saying,”You look like
a right regular deep woods tramp.
“Cookee’s serving up chow soon,
why don’t you come and stay,
we can always find a spare bunk,
you won’t get in the way.”
Now a hot meal in the deep woods
is not something to turn down,
so I went inside and feasted
On beef, beans, and bread brown.
After eating I settled on in
to the spacious, if rank, bunk room.
The men told stories of their times,
of log drives and forest gloom.
Their names were Dutch, Red, Albert,
Guillame, Flash, and Scotty,
They frowned but once, when they said
they sure missed their friend Guy.
We all played cards to pass time,
and a few smoked long pipes,
one by one we all dripped off,
and slept a quiet, peaceful night.
The next morning after flapjacks
I set back upon my path,
and waved to the fellows true
who’d recreated the past.
They were such a friendly lot
that I went back two more times,
a fine summer, I do say so,
but something itched in my mind…
That itch came to the forefront
one chilly, October morn,
I was talking with my good bud,
local historian Nick DeLorn.
Nick had a brace of posters,
pictures of old logging camps.
He was putting them up above
the town museum’s wheel-chair ramp...
CONCLUDES IN PART II
Categories:
adirondack, confusion, history, lost, mystery,
Form:
Narrative
Butterflies flit to flowers
serenity in the shade
reclined adirondack chair
a buzzzz interrupts...
Ouch, bee sting "bites me", in pain,
I run for the cortisone.
Impossible! metered buzzzz
...off to find Cyndi!
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
for Linda-Marie's Bite Me contest
April 9, 2012
*Tag, Cyndi's it! I wasn't going to enter this contest, but decided I couldn't
miss out on all the fun.
Categories:
adirondack, animals, funny,
Form:
Dodoitsu
Preface: Written for my parents on their 50th wedding anniversary
Where the Smoke Goes
I went to the place where the smoke goes, from all our blown out candles.
I found pounds of Cape Cod beach sand there, broken kites and long lost sandals.
Over eighteen thousand days flown by since your promise of “I do”,
wandered all around
this place and found,
more reasons to love you.
I climbed a forgotten apple tree, so I could easily survey.
I saw mountains made of sawdust, valleys of bills you had to pay.
Lumber stacked from projects past, knick-knacks from church bazaars.
I reminisced,
just how much I missed,
finding old chewed up cigars.
I held my breath and dove into the lake made from our tears.
Baptized again, saw family and friends that I’ve missed over the years.
They brought me all the breaths you’ve held, fifty years worth put together,
and showed me the boat
you kept afloat,
through rough seas and stormy weather.
I found rooms of things you went without, to give us what we needed,
and realized then, how much we’ve reaped, from the garden that you seeded.
I saw every time we counted on you, stacked higher than the sun,
I heard loved ones say,
the times you turned us away,
added up to less than one.
They showed me five happy childhoods, filled with loving memories,
and read five prayers for fifty more, Happy Anniversaries.
I couldn’t find a way to show how much, we love and thank you both,
for promising “I do”,
and yes, you two,
made damn good upon your oath.
The smell of homemade biscuits slowly cooking filled the air,
but awoke before I tasted one, in my Adirondack chair.
I left the place where the smoke goes, from our blown out candle wishes,
but I’ll come back each time,
I need to find,
the treasures my soul misses.
c Copyright 2007
Categories:
adirondack, anniversary, family, father, motherhappy,
Form:
Rhyme
Underneath the looming hemlocks,
the incline makes each step a strain,
up sandy earth and broken stone,
but I see sunlight up ahead.
Emerge upon a high ridgeline,
underfoot now is all bedrock,
scraggle pines peak through its big cracks,
throw shadows, the squirrels chitter…
The hot gaze of my favorite star
bounces off my boonie hat,
glorious, cancerous sunlight…
so I did out the SPF,
Slather it across my pale hide,
it will protect from one cancer,
pray that it won’t cause another,
a risk of the game, I suppose.
Pack is feeling heavier now,
more weight on my tall walking stick,
looking for a spot to sit down—
a sudden flutter to my right!
Something brown flying away fast,
grouse or turkey, can’t see clearly,
just shrug, the sound echoes inside,
pleasant soundtrack for my next steps.
The small pines clear and before me
a granite dome does loom up proud,
framed by Montana-blue sky
even thought it’s upstate New York.
Small figures stand at the top,
early hikers who beat the heat,
drinking views, taking pictures
with an Adirondack back-drop.
Just a half-mile left to go,
I’ve done much longer than this one,
will take a thousand pictures too,
this isn’t my first rodeo.
Categories:
adirondack, adventure, bird, fun, imagery,
Form:
Blank verse