Best Hiking Poems
Whatever the offerings of time may bring
Whatever song my heart chooses to sing
On life’s small pursuit I shall meditate
Elysian splendor around me, I appreciate
The simplicities of pastoral living unfurl
I’m graced in your stellar light, a cosmic pearl
Serene contemplation, moments well spent
A transcend of intellect, I pursue contentment
Humbled, a mochila drapes my shoulders
Now weightless, old tomes heavy as boulders
Once laden with Maslow's hierarchy of needs
The cause of sight itself as Plato laid the seeds
Streets of an unclean soulless city no more
Once blemished and ugly as a repellant eyesore
Until this vacant shell had found release,
acceptance paralleled an inner peace
A new perspective can only see the beauty
of the craftsmanship and the ingenuity
On this celestial hike I embrace “carpe diem”
A lesson learned in this hour spans a millennium
The power and value of each moment
however brief, I walk along as an exponent
Unfurling love that rids me of my emptiness
Colloquially speaking I have found happiness
Wah-ooo, wah-ooo,
Oo-oo, oo-oo, oo.
Wah-ooo, wah-ooo,
Oo-oo, oo-oo, oo.
Walkin' dow-nuh street
On me achy feet
Allah li'l birdies go
Tweet tweet tweet
Wah-ooo, wah-ooo,
Oo-oo, oo-oo, oo.
Not gonna crawl
In frunnuh you all
Maybe gonna hide unner
A sheet, sheet, sheet.
Ah-ooo, ah-ooo,
Oo-oo, oo-oo, oo.
Sonnet 21, Old Hiking Shoes
(Spenserian Format)
Don't grieve for me here on the attic shelf;
we're joined infinitely as one, you said.
In an old moldy box now, by myself;
my place was there tucked well under your bed.
Don't grieve for me here within the dark dread;
the days and nights meld together as one.
Reflect on happy times, with stronger tread;
sweet dreams now reign as dead leaves in the sun.
Memories fade away after you're done;
the old just crumble away into dust.
Remember all the mountain trails we'd run?
Fear, you showed none, only honor and trust.
Don't grieve I'm here above your clarinet;
on the top shelf, right beside your train set.
the sea winds calling
calling beach tides thrilling
thrilling woodlands for hiking
hiking along streams vibrant
vibrant wildlife still sprawling
sprawling plant life enthralling
enthralling cobble streets for strolling
strolling perfection in a New England town ~~
a New England town of actual living sounds -
sounds like I should permanently settle down:
Leading a simple life are solid folk.
Many fish the sea for their living.
In city life, they would be slowpokes,
but here time is for deep breathing.
Old lighthouses dot an idyllic coast
and fishing boats fill the scenic harbors.
There’s shellfish aplenty for dining ardor.
Many inns are old homes of lace and charm,
reminiscent of America’s youth.
There are old horse bridges and farms
built when pride was America’s truth.
There is much history to relish
and nature that stirs one zealous.
New England is the good life embellished
and an address that I would cherish.
Trek poles wending
Peak ascending
Trail keeps bending
Effort spending
Gnats offending
Stormclouds rending
Cool rain sending
Flowers tending
Clean air lending
Sunshine trending
Now descending
Hikers blending
Smiles attending
All befriending
Hike soon ending
Sleep descending
Sweet dreams sending
Muscles mending
Smiles unending
Next hike? Pending!
What makes the hiking up mountains more striking?
What makes the driving more fun than arriving?
What makes the ocean-ing worth the sun lotioning?
Gear!
Gear makes the biking much more to my liking,
Gear makes the camping way less spirit-damping,
Gear makes the gardening less callous-hardening,
Let's hear it for Gear!
Now softball-leaguing is way more intriguing,
Now boogie boarding is much more rewarding,
Now even jogging feels less like a flogging,
3 cheers for the Gear!
Titanium! Spandex! Aluminum! Latex!
Hi-tech! All-weather! Light as a feather!
No wonder I struggled for many a year -
I had not the wherewithal to buy the gear!
You’re the world’s worst hiking buddy
How did we end up so muddy
Not even sure we can scrub it!
How would I know
Can’t stick my hand in that hole
I thought you had the first aid kit
Yea I dragged a little back
Put too much in my pack
Still we came here to walk as a team
So I wore the wrong socks
Got my foot stuck in the marsh
I figured you knew a way through the stream
I got some cool pictures
Don’t forget to text me those few vintage
I didn’t have time to give my phone a full charge
What else is there to talk about
We’re in the woods isn’t that where Bigfoot’s at
You know they say he still runs at large
I know I saw a cell tower
Had to call my mom on the hour
I can’t believe you left me behind!
I’d be here till I’m old
If it wasn’t for that dog
For all that has happened I’ll whine, humph
So where are we going next weekend?
The whhhhiind wound it’s wicked way through the snarl of broken skeleton like branches. In what was left of the dredges of dusky light it tore past the ancient rotting knot holes protruding from the bristling bark of Grandfather Oaks, creating a whistling, haunting sound that sent shivers up and down her spine. Old dead leaves lifting in sudden bursts of whirlwinds from the darkening forest carpet of pepper brush and poison oak rustled and rushed past touching her face as if trying to direct her attention to the dark void of the forest into which those long dead leaves disappeared.
She stopped. She must keep going but fear was paralyzing her. A quote from JRR Tolkien buzzed in and out of her frightened mind…..“Still round the corner there may wait .. a new road or a secret gate…” It reiterated itself over and over in her mind. ….. Sounds. There were sounds beside ..and inside the wind.. It was more than creaking branches.. more than rustling leaves and whistling wind tunneling through the mazes of old dead moss covered bony trees. It was more felt than heard but …it was heard …a practically palpable sound… but elusive. It … the sound… created itself when she walked… it came from above and behind her. It stopped when she stopped….except for …except for …the breathing.
She could feel it ..breathing. She thought to turn her collar up and cover her neck. Oh so scared ! Frozen scared! So alone! How do I get out of here!! It’s so cold! And then… she practically fainted as ..she …she felt it! The unmistakable Ssslow hot ..breath ..rasping ..on the back of her neck! …
DAM IT ALL SUSAN !! WOULD YOU WAKE TA HECK UP AND GET OUTA BED! YOU’RE GONNA BE LATE FOR YOUR CAMPING TRIP!!!
Lacing up my hiking boots
A backpack full of supplies
Heading out on a new trail head
As the sun just starts to rise
Switchbacks up the mountain trail
Waterfalls at which I stop
Six thousand feet of elevation gain
Before I reach the top
Splash fresh water upon my face
Enjoy the flora along the trails
Rejuvenating my inner soul
This exhilaration never fails
Approach the apex of the mountain
As the sun reaches its summit in the sky
Looking over miles of God’s green earth
Puts a teardrop in my eye
I love each day I can spend this way
Enjoying life in this particular fashion
Hiking trails through the wilderness
Is my enriching passion
With my furry, white companion, Luna by my side,
We venture forth in Colorado's wide-open stride.
My dog's tail wags, a joyous sight,
As we embark on our hike, under the sky's bright light.
The crisp mountain air invigorates,
As we navigate the trails with a steady gait,
Amidst Colorado's natural beauty all around,
With each step we take, a new wonder is to be found.
We explore the wild, my dog and I,
In Colorado's rugged terrain, beneath the endless sky.
Her bark echoed through valleys and hills,
A symphony that the wilderness fills.
The wild terrain, we explore with glee,
My dog's wagging tail is pure harmony.
Nature's splendor, a feast for the eyes,
As we journey under the endless skies.
Majestic, barren, rock-cropped braes ascend—
Arrayed, green-clad, in heather, gorse, and fern—
As mid-day, misty, dark’ning clouds descend
To cold-embrace each soaring tor and burn.
From heights unseen a torrent cascades free,
Unfettered into deep Ben Nevis’ glen;
Then onwards toward Loch Linnhe and the sea,
Through sodden bog and brackened, stone-strewn fen.
Though hidden from the eyes of those below,
Ben Nevis’ surly brow is sought and found
By those who brave the rain, the sleet, and snow,
To scale the cairn that marks its highest ground.
And there, amidst the cloud, God reaches down
To touch and bless fair Scotland’s Highland crown.
brae=steep hillside
tor=rocky peak
burn=hillside stream
This sonnet is one of a set of five sonnets written while traveling through Ireland and Scotland in June 2019. This sonnet was inspired by my climb to the snowy summit of Ben Nevis, the tallest mountain in the British Isles. The poem is included in my book, "Mostly Sonnets," published by Dunecrest Press and available for sale on Amazon.com.
an oak leaf caught beneath my lover's shoe
Let's drift along paths of old heather,
See today is beautiful weather.
The lightest mist of dew still wet leaves
Lying in fields in tightly bound sheaves.
Meandering along citrus trees
Sweet blossoms announce a bumper crop
And fragrance grow up slopes to the top.
A rill flows downhill forming a pool,
We go into the water so cool,
Let the sun shine in mid-summer heat
Then we'll drink out our beer as a treat.
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A new path yet of a familiar kind -
Like many other pathways in its wake,
Dad, look for markers that fill up your mind -
hints of how to return without mistake.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With care, watch out for snakes and noxious weeds
while engaging this resourceful treasure.
Mom, teach your child to know the plants and seeds,
to show gentle respect for each creature.
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Walk this path with care for discovery;
use your sense of smell with your ears and eyes.
Child, stockpile your mind for recovery;
find out what secrets this fresh trail supplies.
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It was a crisp fall November weekend,
We had gotten up early that morning
A frantic rush, buzzing to go camping.
We'd packed the night before, tired by the end.
My parents briskly loaded the luggage
In the station wagon, then we'd piled in.
Tickled, Ember our lab would lick my chin.
She was very playful, but average.
Tents were set up and a campfire blazing
Overlooking the clear lake and mountain.
We would hike nature trails we were certain
Were safe and waded in the lake fishing.
Our campfire shed a yielding glowing light
That filled the night air with the scent of smoke
And lingering forest pine and silage oak.
Sky a stage of dancing stars through the night.
I think back to all the favorite times
While young, not knowing how the lord lead my
Sight, to see His love in nature, and sky
With family in the fall leisure pastimes.
1/11/2021
The Good Old Days Poetry Contest
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