Best Canoeing Poems

canoeing
the river
of life's currents



posted on June 29, 2019...

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Chapter 11: The Problem with Lakes

Canoes and larger lakes don’t mix well I’m afraid,
The rough equivalent of a margarita and a toothpick.
On the Mississippi a lake means a dam somewhere,
The scenic route buried now under dam water
Its prurient writhing now veiled from prying eyes
By puritanical...

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Imagine that we are out boating on 
A lovely Sunday afternoon that floats
Our imaginations like wind swept clouds,
Rippling from horizon to horizon.
You are pillowed in the bow of our canoe,
A thin foam pad lifts you off wood ribbed bottom.
No smooth fiberglass for us, a bright
Umbrella...

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Overflow of the waters of Lake Itaska
You carry your wealth to the waiting world, 
Mighty Mississippi, half savior, half sewer, 
Plant and animal wastes, dissolved minerals, 
Venting prairie deluge, dividing a Nation, 
Exposed aquifer of Great Plains, home of Buffalo ghosts, 
And their equally threatened...

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Extra weight no longer a problem for shallow water, 
We bulked up for the next leg of our journey, 
Water containers, even some canned goods
An acceptable luxury in our seventeen foot canoe, 
A canvas topping lashed everything in securely, 
Offered some weather proofing for sensitive...

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gliding through its ripples breaking the stillness
in harmony paddling with my ancestors 
serene other than a loon's call as witness
gaging the span of mountains by trimesters
a sunrise about to make its grand entrance
closing my eyes as to trade furs feels intense
ageless today there is no...

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Chapter 10: Modern Dams & Locks

A highpoint of our whole trip, a lock and dam,
Originally St. Anthony Falls in Minneapolis - St. Paul.
Can you imagine how Spanish explorers felt
Entering California’s Golden Gate for the first time?
It lay undiscovered for over two hundred years
Of coastal exploration...

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'Camp Chippewa, ' its tennis and rifle range, X-Class sailing, 
And classic 'Old Town' canvas covered wooden canoes, 
Not the low-class aluminum canoes of a 'Camp Thunderbird.'
Cass Lake - garden of the Mississippi's hidden currents, 
Nature's setting for Star Island's fresh blue berry thickets, 
Brisk,...

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Our riverbank launch at dawn
where dense forest chills the breeze,
where cottonwood leaves flutter like wings,
and weeping willow penumbras tease.

Glistening, rippling turquoise water churns.
Crystal swirling pools symphonic and aglow,
elliptic aluminum crafts coast over craggy stones, 
riverbed scattered rocks gleam clearly below.

Current River splits between sandbar silt.
Our...

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Chapter 13: Leaving the River

Our leaving the river I think surprised us both,
But the seeds were sown early in our preparations,
And shared philosophy of following our bliss,
Simply stated, the trip stopped being fun,
Prairie du Chien, Iowa, was just where it happened,
Three days of an unending...

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Two people in a canoe
It is both their first time
One of them is nervous
The other is being calm

One seated in the back
The other in the front
Each one has a paddle
So the journey begins

The paddle goes in the water
Then the paddle comes out
One of them h]gets...

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Like a young girl, early river is inviting, 
Charms a plenty, but surprising secrets, 
We imagined potential rapids around every corner, 
A new born fawn and doe caught drinking, 
Whole families of hatchling ducks, 
So curious we could have fed them, 
Greeting silent canoe as...

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Chapter 9: Portaging Older Dams

Eleven Minnesota dams we had to portage
All without clear use for folks today
But as the Mississippi is a ‘navigable’ river.
Owners are required by law to transport boats
Around these artificial barriers to ‘commerce’
And ‘social intercourse’ (like our canoe.)
This can make the dam...

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Every journey worth its salt has rocky places
Bank to bank filled with frothing white water, 
The economics of avoidance, steering a lean course, 
Avoiding higher peaks that thrill - vouchsafed to others.
Rest days taken during times of lower water
Even portaging some sections altogether, 
Below one...

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Oh let me sing of the river's people
No, not holiday boaters, but those rare few
Whose homes and hearts embrace the river, 
Trafficking in all that she so blithely carries.
Backyards a port of entry for wayward canoeists
Seeking naught but groceries and Dr. Peppers, 
Well, maybe an...

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