Best Outdoors Poems
I've never twitted on Tweeter
nor am I an Instagrammarian
I've searched on Goggle
but cannot find MyFace
I ask it "how do I change the oil in my car?"
and get 570,000,000,000,000 hits
so I go make some toast and eat lunch
at least I can work a toaster
my kids think I was born in the Jurassic era
for I speak of phones with cords
that came out of a wall
and TV stations with 4 channels
to choose between
I feel like I'm swabbing the deck
on a Byzantine sailing ship
I don't know url's from www's,
or http's from html's
my mobile phone tries
to auttocronect my thumb typing
and cyber censors block my search
for 'penal colonies'
So I walk to my neighborhood park and
...lie on the grass
...stare at the blue sky
...pet my neighbor's schnauzer
...feed peanuts to the squirrels
...imagine shapes in the clouds
...watch the sun set and the moon rise
The cyber world is
an amazing supersonic ride
but the great outdoors is my landing strip
and I've just touched down
My perspective is of pristine settings,
A vantage of raw beauty.
Articulated in a naturalistic way,
With great tenacity and duty.
I’m an interpreter of what is sensed,
The author of my own experiences.
I write from my writing spot,
Of many of nature’s lenience’s.
I capture momentary flashes,
Of inspiration, which I adore.
I’m forever occupied and proud,
To be a chronicler of outdoors.
Computers are not natural for me
I did not grow up knowing how to swipe
Scrolling up and down meant parchment paper
Bringing thoughts of ancient Rome to my head
Database, laptop, I-phone, were unknown words
Not developed yet, unheard of, not fathomed
I speak the language of trees, the sun, cloud talk.
Doing my best to imitate the trills and squawks of birds
I know my brain cannot duplicate beak talk
And yet I try, feeling a kindship to everything outdoors
Lying sometimes on a mound of dirt, feeling loved
There is a reverence here I cannot feel at the end of a swipe
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!
Beautiful wildflowers on the hillside gleam.
Children pluck the flowers there, and nearby is a stream.
Its waters with little polliwogs now teem!
Kids are splashing after them. How glad they seem!
Yes, school has ended and their summer I deem
will be a happy one filled with frolic and ice cream!
May each child know the joy of sleeping neath a moon beam
with the great outdoors their own back yard as peacefully they dream.
May 25, 2018
He circles around this rustic boat launch,
the locals know he nests in the pine trees,
fish bone at the base tell of his last lunch,
these birds like water, big lakes and sea.
White heads draw the eye, even if far off,
it’s clear why most men think them majestic,
he looks better still plunging for the waves,
into a trout yellow talons now rip.
Some folks snap photos from this rocky beach,
zoom in on fledglings with thin mottled heads,
they flap wings to fly, but it’s still a reach,
so they just hop back to their nesting bed,
it will be some months before they’re ready
to soar on the thermals, strong and steady.
This farmer’s porch wraps up the house,
pitching shade along all four sides,
with simple posts and long, flat spans,
and pressure-treated floor-boards, wide.
My wife may have gotten closets,
decorated the inside space,
but this long porch is my retreat,
I’m better in an outdoor place.
The north-face has a clear-cut slope,
an open spot amongst the trees,
the west-side features my kid’s yard,
and often catches zephyr’s breeze.
The south faces road and river,
a rock-chocked stream with flowing sound,
the east-side is close to tall trees,
an ideal place for cooling down.
On rainy days I sit out here,
enjoy the mists but don’t get wet,
on sunny days I sit out here,
avoid the sunburns some folks get.
With hammock and chair here and there,
I can relax as things pass by,
have read Tolstoy out on this porch,
and westerns where the bullets fly.
It may seem quite bizarre to some,
to write of pleasures a porch brings,
but the more I sit out I see
that life is made by little things…
A visit outdoors with some friends
On some factors most likely depends –
Like a place you can meet
Be it backyard or street
And some space to which distancing lends.
After months when you’ve all been apart
It might take a big push just to start
But by taking the leap
So much joy you will reap
In your mind, on your face, in your heart.
A flighty young lady from Torbay
Got seen having sex in a doorway
She blushed bright scarlet red
Said I like it in bed
But this is just part of our foreplay!
12th April 2016
Summer Camp
Summer camp's been a win-win, this week made me grin!
What great times we had, going like mad, never sad
met playing croquet the first day of our va-cay
you're the one I had fun with each day in the sun
played awesome sports in shorts, laughed through games of all sorts
what jokes we'd make sitting by the lake, sun would bake
we swam every day at the dam, then had to scram
off to canoe, whistle blew, I'd eat lunch with you
goodbye my sweetie pie, our time has just flown by
your kiss felt right late last night. Don't forget to write!
written 17 Aug 2020
In Ontario, you can’t go anywhere without seeing a tree.
Here, all is green and beautiful. I caught a fish.
Rowing against the current, the wind, and the rain.
The hills, the beauty of night stars shining bright.
The deer running frantically, before they are shot.
Not wanting summer to come to an end.
The roars of the dying bear, bleeding and waiting for death.
The night so dark I can hear howling at the moon.
Without thought I carved and starved.
With tons of fish I wish to eat.
I have no knife to cut or gut, these
tons of fish. I wish to catch some more,
what a chore. Chanting camping songs
all along awaiting wishfully for the heavenly fire.
Do you see the rain dance
no drop at a still stance,
pitter pattering all around
bouncing back to the ground
Steady there while you sit
as atop your head they hit,
each one is an invitation
and a newfound inspiration
No more need to stay inside
or under an umbrella hide,
simply set your soles free
leave all your troubles be
You can see the rain dance
live a little, take a chance,
lasts only a minute or two
later on skies will be blue
The skin will feel every drip
fresh enough to take a sip,
falling so freely in the air
let them tangle in your hair
Two together become one
washed over by innocent fun,
to thoroughly enjoy the soak
before the clouds above broke
If rain could it might smile
because for a short while,
here under the circumstance
you decided to join their dance.
I love to be outdoors,
but hiking, I don't commit.
I'll pick the cushy swing,
for my lazy butt to sit.
Umbrella drink in hand,
but lacking the umbrella.
When my life reminds me,
I'm fine without a fella.
Under the old maple,
where my cushy swing does fit.
I really take a chance,
with the bug bites and bird...poop.
With my trustee Schnoodle,
that will never leave my side.
I love to be outdoors,
It's where I feel alive.
Paddling, struggling, striving,
We're canoeing and living.
Camping, hiking, sleeping,
We'll be journeying and dreaming.
Eating, singing, lifting,
We are having an adventuring.
Paddling, leaving, packing,
We're going and floating.
Arriving, accomplishing, celebrating,
We'll be returning, our homecoming.
Remembering, wishing, thinking,
We will be having passing memories.
The end of another day
came to the Ravelston Estate,
and the workers were again
making their way back from the fields.
And in keeping with the hour,
Lord Andrew and cousin Carla
lied ever so very tired
on two overly stuffed divans.
But we shall not assume
those two eminent proprietors
were in any way afar
from the earth and people
who create their abundant wealth.
They now lied in a small island,
an enclosed and luscious little garden
which was at its most pleasant
at the end of summer days.