Best Mountaineers Poems
Himalayas beckon everyone to come to its fold
In as many seasons ‘n as many times ‘n still lust for more
Music, all four seasons, they continuously orchestrate
A collage of fall colors adds beauty to its lakes, rivers and waterfalls
Legendary tales echo glories of gods in its valleys and peaks
Abode heavenly it makes away from maddening crowd, a midst the clouds
You fall in love with the simple and beautiful people of these hills that
Allow you not to miss your home sweet home while
Snow-capped peaks bring out grit ‘n courage of mountaineers
Contest: the hills are alive with poetry
Sponsor: Scott thirtyseven
Date: 20.6.2014
Form: Acrostic
Lines: 9
A fearful, jagged place
Yet wondrous to the eye.
A place for hardy mountaineers,
The Black Cuillins of Skye.
No place for the timid
Imposing in their might,
But to stand and look upon
There's ne'er a grander sight.
Interlopers amid rolling hills
A ridge of fierce repute,
Standing aloof, magnificent
They challenge rope, and boot.
Travel with me to a nature lover's dream
Denali's grandeur is the unfolding theme
Expansive vistas paint a wondrous scene
Snow covered peaks look quite so pristine.
Morning sun blushes atop gray clouds
Majestic sights gratify excited crowds
Glaciers glow upon a distant mountain range
Mesmerizing hues color changing landscape.
Butterflies roam flowers pink and yellow
Moths feasting on nectars look so mellow
Birch trees so tall, they swing with the wind
Aspen tree sings with its leaves shiny green.
Red squirrels run from trees to leap
White sheeps graze on ranges so steep
Moose and grizzly bear a sight must see
A golden eagle flies high above the trees.
Mountaineers climb soaring mountain peaks
Hiking, biking, camping is what visitors seek
Memories made here will never depart
A visit to the park will engrave your heart.
August 17, 2017
Placed 3rd: Strand choice Z contest by Brian Strand
(Every year I write a charge for my team at the beginning of football season. It is a joy to combine two of my passions and I encourage you to write about your passions, whatever they may be.)
Now in the hills of Morgantown there was a football team
Starting a quest to be the best that most would call a dream
And how they did, "a dream and more" said the pundits on TV
The Mountaineers can't win this year - but soon the blind shall see
Because when one team rises up and dons the Gold and Blue
They bring the weight of our whole state and there's NOTHING they can't do
So believe with me once more my friends - the hills are gonna sing
From mountain to valley, we'll start up the rally, our battle cry will ring
Take heart to hope and believe again; set those expectations higher
We'll have some fun and when we're done we just might start a fire
Let's flood the field with thunderous shouts, let the earth quake with our cheers
Come on, who's in? We're going to win!! LET'S GO MOUNTAINEERS!!!
Those who climb mountains
live forever
unless they fall.
They only drink icicle drip
and chew thorns.
Their soles are like thin mattresses
that are well used.
They breathe tinted air,
unfiltered.
Over and over again
the hill is calling.
No obstacle is too long.
They are blind
except by instinct.
A raptor circles, catching a thermal.
The climber would mount one
and ride higher
if he could.
A rock falls from its place
and like a seesaw
lifts the hikers.
Always there is imagination.
Always there is a goal.
Sky is no limitation.
Her imagination is married
to her distant goal.
Rules are broken here:
no time for fooling.
They are reaching,
reaching,
Like shoppers wanting stacked goods
on a high shelf.
The eagle flies in the day;
the climbers never stop.
Mountaineers are like people,
colorful as the Swiss.
Their cheeks glow like tomatoes.
Their toenails are steep.
Finally the launch is ready
and all who climb
drift down again.
Sacred and pristine Russian mountain;
here I am to ponder on your beauty;
From photographing you I cannot abstain!
Sacred and pristine Russian mountain.
Dear Russian mountain: 5861 miles plus
19 hours it took me to reach your home,
surrounded by nature. I am not a wuss!
Sacred and pristine Russian mountain.
Russian mountain, -30 F
don't deter me from being here. I don't
care if I frezee. This is sheer delight!
Sacred and pristine Russian mountain.
Russian mountain, make heart glad and gay!
If you were able to speak today
I wouldn't understand a iota of what you say!
Sacred and pristine Russian mountain.
Russian mountain sacred and pristine.
Mountaineers and explorers from abroad
come to visit you because you are alpine!
Sacred and pristine Russian mountain.
Russian mountain pristine and sacred.
We won't find you in an amusement park;
because you're only here, blue and red.
Sacred and pristine Russian mountain.
There's no one like you in Spokane!
Sacred and pristine Russian mountain.
HIDDEN
On mountain top
none made a stop.
Sublime solitude all around.
Hard rigid rock
stubborn block
with wild glossy grasses
and all dry feral masses
prayed for noise and sound.
Peak left abandoned
No stone even turned
Neither animals wandered
nor birds ventured.
Traces of human steps not found.
Gentle breeze touching in gay,
Sun greeting with bright ray
can’t console rigid rock.
It longed for sound to knock.
Tiring monotony knew no bound.
A team of mountaineers came to trek.
Jubilant guys shout and break
peace and calmness
over all silence,
prevailing perfect and profound.
Cheerful guys played and wished to prolong
danced in frolic mood, sang song
screaming and clamor
in joyful glamour.
Noise of the crowd
running too loud.
Their laughter, yells yielded echo all around.
Hard heart of rigid rock melted in pleasure
discovering great glorious treasure,
now exact time to measure.
Instant responsive hidden echo in its surround
12/12/15
The Creative Collective Anthology Series Contest by Geraldine Taylor
Re-edited on 02/15/20
Third Place
Second Place
' "H"-Contest Old or New
by Constance La France
childhood innocence
freedom to roam natures way,
Galactic image.
Another day, adventures sought, friends to meet,
rise at five, sun just rising, head for the fields,
long day ahead, dog by my side, decisions to make,
camping in the hills or den making in the woods,
fishing in the stream, brook jumping, make tree swing,
bike ride, rock climbing, swim in the lake, bath tub cruise,
glorious days of summer, no responsibilities, so free,
packed lunch, warm bottle of water, stale roll with cheese,
scraps for the dog, life was so good, days so long,
we were builders, fishermen, mountaineers, hunters,
sailors, sportsmen, explorers, astronauts and pilots,
sunset time to head home, memories, tales to tell,
ready for dinner, exhausted, look forward to another day.
Long day's of desire
memories of a lifetime,
simple black and white.
Composed 08/23/2017.
Oh! How I long for that
one sweet moment of
loneliness, when the human race
decides to piss off, leaving me
to wallow in my own
company.
The pressurized world,
the ceremonious
corporate reciprocates, one’s
space to foul, with flouting
flagrant farts! Creating
thunderous turmoil, a
chaotic state of mind,
a wind of prevalent
change.
Innocent minds, virgin thoughts
collective breeding grounds,
stage upon stage, the master’s philosophy to
be acted out. His! To
nurture, to alter, personalities
to change, ideals to strive
for, directions to enforce.
The
new breed, created from
the production line of
progression, cantankerous wankers! Mountaineers
all. “No strings” Yet each one
a “Puppet” To the regime, each
one skilled in the art of
deceit, degrees in codhology, all
willing to sell their soul
to the executive.
“Interaction Management” The
suave enemy. “Believe it”
At one’s peril,
“The flattery
the empathy
the confidence”
Seek out! The expression
behind the expression.
If not! “One will love it”
Hook line and sinker, caught
in a web of verbal
trash, dressed up in treachery.
Soon
the moralist to become ridiculed,
their dispute subjected
to “Reductio ad absurdum” Yet
their accuser dances
amongst the clouds, eyes forever
searching skywards, the social
divorce permanent.
Who!
Are these arrogant ones,
those reared in such cynical ways,
their curriculum brimming with
intellect, yet without
the power to reason,
only the power to perform!
The forked tongue, the worthless hand shake
at Christmas time, the insincere
parody that floats across the
pay table.
Many years
I have given myself
to this crap, and here are
these bastards, having us
all feel grateful, for the
“Privilege
of
employment.”
© Harry J Horsman 1993
they were up there, on the stage,
" exotic dancers", the term they
gave; the tall one "Avalanche",
the shorter, "Aurora"
long black limbs , Aurora's, graceful
steps so Avalanche, her marble feet
pure snow
they intertwined and caught our men's
eyes, as we looked and fantasized of
being with one, or the other, (or both)
and the tepid rhythm rumbled on, from
speakers in the curtained roof, while mouths
dribbled and trousers moved, like stallions we
trampled hooved
and as the caravan of tempting lust, swung the
hip and charming bust, the distant sound of beer
and jar, chinkled from the busy bar
and down the mountain slope she came, Avalanche
a wild chicane, lit by Aurora's northern light,
G string gone and tassles free, thundered on
the mountain slope and sky,
and soon on trapeze across the room, over tables,
drinks, and cloudy hush, the twin nature's beauties
wearing only their bush, and below, the valley
the mountaineers, sweating in expectant gush
and when I trek among the peaks in dangerous
snow and coloured skies, I remember the twins,
one black one white, their avalanche and northern light
Climbing Mountains
Sitting atop on the mountain; I'm leaning
against a crevice of a rock
I'm viewing the stars and the clouds
They have not waged mere wages of war
All the natural brooks are streaming into formation.
As the mountains are spewing many endless stones
Of fiery glimpses into the mountainous river
For unto this mesmerizing and panoramic view
There are plentiful darkened crevices along each side.
There may be no shelter to hide you when the
Rain begins to flow; swaying all leaf's to which it may hide,
Under an opportunists belief so many fearless mountaineers
Are making a strenuous leap into the highest mountain peak.
As the final ending is in full view of our mountainous climbing
Fears are not for his natural habitat for we dearly love an evening score.
Written: 3/22/14
Across the limpid and serene river, the oasis of the Wild West pioneers,
there are ivory and charcoal peaks waiting for mountaineers
to discover as they rest under the long-leafed pines that sway;
on this side, the saw-tooth oaks and the daisy bushes are lovely greeters.
Not long ago, this abandoned upland was the home of gold-diggers,
sarcasm and violence went hand in hand...even eagles could have lost their feathers,
and those cluttered wooden shacks weren't not built for comfort,
but with limited space, they could hardly stretch out their legs and sleep like bears.
Travelers are very fascinated by the peace and scenery, not seen from their urban lair;
come to enjoy a short period of tranquility and breathe in the crisp air:
some write, some paint...others dream away to visualize that great era!
Look past that river, willow oaks and maples can soothe the travels of a trudging bear.
Find your spot, whenever you choose and be vowed by an imagination so rare;
take off your fedora hat and go beyond those mountains brightened by the sun's glare,
let a mockingbird or shrike delight your senses with their beautiful song...
with a fervid wish, let them take you where they have watched the new moon's mare.
Some mountains have been there since
the beginning of time,
while there are other mountains that appear
right in front of us,
as we attempt to cross to another territory
or territories with priceless treasure,
but filled with dry bones of people who tried
to carry all the treasures away,
with their bare hands; alone.
Sometimes we hear about the bones seen
in the glittering territories,
that we cower back to the foot of the mountains
we climb.
We are all mountaineers of life,
whether we like it or not.....
upon reaching the frozen summit,
the mountaineers jump in jubilation,
then proudly unfurl and firmly plant
the damp flag of their faraway nation;
oh, how they noisily whoop it up,
strutting in chest-thumping elation,
slapping each other's shoulders
in riotous joy and celebration;
ecstatic over what seems to them
is a real monumental conquest,
a sense of having personally tamed
the awesome, looming Mt. Everest!
nearby, squatting, huddling close,
handling the baggage of each climber,
seven sturdy, veteran Sherpa guides,
through the years, still quietly wonder:
what really is the big, big deal
these batches of city folks make
out of just standing on this peak,
a slow, boring trek for its own sake?
what is there fit to brag about
in climbing slowly and leisurely,
unburdened by loads of provisions
the silent Sherpas carry for a fee?
why, with modern climbing gears,
an alert chopper hovering above,
food supplies, gadgets, equipment,
they're luckier than a winter dove!
but really, what they can do in days
Sherpa lads hunting in the wilderness,
with less preparation, on short notice,
can easily do in just a day or even less !
Old Lang Syne meaningfully with gusto
Hogmanay celebrations in full swing
Revellers savour whiskeys afterglow
Watching square dancers doing highland fling
Laden snow clouds have accumulated
Inky heavens to sheer mountain ski top
As frozen misty hailstones enshrouded
onwards from midnight chimes, it did not stop
Mechanisation had ground to standstill
So stranded most where, no alarm to raise
Prompted mountaineers try to ski downhill
Technology cut off they did appraise
Happily acknowledging extra days
Revellers exclaimed jubilant hoorays
Oct 29 2019
New Fall Sonnets Poetry Contest
Emile Pinet