Best Portage Poems
No Anchor for Rancor
Wounded the ship of my soul,
With tattered sails,
Heels up in malevolence,
Venom puffs out the jib
In leeward grudges of tactless spite
On a pointless reach
Heading up into retaliation.
Heart hardened sends out a deep tap root,
Like a dagger board,
For my blustering hubris
To drop an anchor and moor animosity
In a portage of perpetual whirlwinds
With undertows of enmity
Crashing about in irons of spite.
Yet steady winds rise up
And I must come about
Heading into prevailing winds
Then journey through hubris doldrums,
Sails filled fresh with newborn winds,
Orphaning rancor - breathing in forgiveness -
Sailing beneath full sails of resurrection
Categories:
portage, ocean, wind,
Form:
Free verse
THE ISLANDS OF SAN JUAN - TIMESHARE
[FOLKTALE]
IN A PORTION, A SPELL IS CASTE.
THE PEOPLE ARE CALLED NUGLUMMI.
IN A TRANCE STATE, THEY EAT HONEY AND BEES ARE FORM FROM THEIR EYES.
INSIGHTFULLY THEY BEGIN TO TRANSFORM THE TERRAIN AND ISLANDS FORMED FOR THE FREEDOM OF WOMAN AND MAN.
THE PEOPLE OF THE SEA ARE FREE IN THE PUGET SOUNDS.
DOUGLAS FIR GROWS TALL.
THE LANDSCAPE IS EVERGREEN AND THE LUMMIS ARE SALISAN.
DIALECTIC VERSIONS OF THIS LANGUAGE ARE POSSESSED.
THEIR LOGIC IS HOW THEY TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES.
*
THE PENINSULA THAT RESIDES IN THEIR TOPOGRAPHY IS VAST IN SHAPE AND FASHIONED BY THE UNINHABITED PORTAGE ISLAND WHERE THEIR RESERVED LAND NOW LAYS. LIKE MANY NORTHWEST COAST TRIBES, THEY GASTRONOMY CONSISTS OF THE COLLECTING OF SHELLFISH, GATHERING OF PLANTS SUCH AS CAMAS AND DIFFERENT SPECIES OF BERRIES, AND MOST IMPORTANT, AS SALMON FISHERMEN, THEY DEVELOPED “REEF NETTING.”
THEY ENJOY POTLATCH ON THE ORCAS ISLAND, SAN JUAN ISLAND, LUMMI ISLAND, FIDALGO ISLAND, PORTAGE ISLAND, AND NEAR POINT ROBERTS AND SANDY POINT.
IN ALL NUGLUMMI, WERE COMMERCIAL TO THEIR TRADE.
THEY GREATER HARVEST IS TODAY.
THE PADDLE TO LUMMI IS 68 CANOEING FAMILIES PADDLING HAND-MADE CANOES TO THE LUMMI RESERVATION FROM PARTS OF WASHINGTON STATE AND BRITISH COLUMBIA.
**
[TODAY]
THESE ISLANDS OF THE PUGET SOUNDS IS TOO FAR AWAY TO HEAR.
WITH A GRAIN OF SALT, THE SEA SWEEPS THE BEACH.
REMEMBRANCE IS IN WALKING SILENTLY AND HEARING THE TRIBAL SINGING IN SALISH.
THESE ISLANDS ARE A CASTAWAYS HAVEN – A HARBOR OF CONTENTMENT, WHICH LAY IN BRITISH COLUMBIA AND THE NORTHWESTERN UNITED STATES.
ROMANTIC ENDEAVORS ARE BASED ON YOUR IMAGINATION.
THESE ARE THE SAN JUAN ISLANDS OF WASHINGTON STATE.
MAY YOUR VISIT BE SAFE!
***
Categories:
portage, business, change, character, city,
Form:
Free verse
Images of a mind
A mirage.
A portage
between there
and where
one may find
essence of mind.
The subconscious,
the conscious
may not enter.
Doors do hinder.
B. J. “A ” 2
May 5th 2015
Categories:
portage, family,
Form:
Rhyme
A hot and summer evening breeze
In jest tickled the napping bees
Incandescent, of floating musk
Shadows like dancing glow at dusk.
Hugging pine trees from branch to branch
Down on the grass gaily they hopped
Such a beauty I'd like to catch
To watch them dance, maybe make love
Freely, on the palm of my hand.
Wished upon a firefly, as a kid I had
Watched your sparkle many evenings
High in hopes, eyes wide open
Twinkles from your flickering lights
Told me that ills would fly by night.
Enchanted I was, you thrilled me
Yet calming like a cup of tea
Left home for decades now I have
Missed your playful spirit and salve.
Like me the gentle autumn wind
From great distance, faith unknowing
Carried me over here to seek
Greener pastures or winning streaks
And you, for greyer twilight crests.
It was on my birthday last year
In Portage, Michigan, oh what
A grand reunion we did have
When my dear granddaughter and I
Chased you merrily around the block!
Categories:
portage, angel, autumn, beauty, granddaughter,
Form:
Rhyme
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 owners hard to find!
Most of these dams backed up water only
For short distances, historic nuisances today,
Maintained only now to prevent further damage
To the altered ecosystem they themselves created,
A rare incidence of business being held responsible.
Or a clever ruse to avoid the real clean up costs?
It’s hard to trust that anyone alive is not ‘Me! Me! Me!’
But the owner’s of the dam with the three mile
Impassible boulder field below it won our praise.
A pickup was sent with two strong men
Who picked up the canoe gear and all,
Slipped it into the back, and tied it down.
Within an hour we were back in the water,
Paddling downstream with the current.
Brian Johnston
October 28, 2014
Categories:
portage, boat, dream, journey, nature,
Form:
Blank verse
Deliberately provisioned light on our departure,
Bemidji, Minnesota, is our first port of call.
Though eighty miles by river's reckoning,
This first stretch is an annual competition
That canoeing experts make in one day,
But my sister, concerned about our safety,
Vows to wait for us three days there.
First days were slower than expected,
Trees were down requiring portage,
Small bridges also posed a problem,
Unpacking, carrying canoe around obstacle,
Then repacking, before paddling once more,
Light snow danced as we made camp,
Those first nights well below freezing mark.
It's not a well known fact, but mosquitoes
In Minnesota snort anti-freeze in the local gyms,
As a part of their pre-season training. (3)
However their proboscis' cannot get through
A two inch thick down jacket except at seams,
Which creates matching patterns on one's back,
When campers forget to spray clothing too..
Brian Johnston
October 19, 2014
(2) More Mosquito Jokes...
a. In Minnesota the State Bird is the mosquito.
b. Two mosquitos in Alaska are carrying off a human baby and one says to the other, 'Quick, let's get him to the forest and hide him before the bigger guys take him away from us! '
Categories:
portage, boat, dream, journey, nature,
Form:
Blank verse
twists and turns of serpentine.
perfumes that emanate from time to time,
through a wall of quietus-trees.
perils in the doubting waters,
amidst the anaconda, caiman, and piranha.
perhaps, after all, man is the more sinister
as his stomach growls
and his face’s beaten bittersweet
by the zenith of the Amazon.
his legs carry portage and dugout canoes.
sinkholes churn whirlpools.
vines hang down and choke.
~ most hope from within ~
for despairing we learn to be thiefs,
murderers hewn out of fear.
insects further trouble and attack,
and tribal eyes spy, and agitate
in perpetuities’ suspicious waters.
Rio Roosevelt thrives cantankerously
as Theodore’s enemies attack,
with deadly scratches and malaria.
but Rondon never forgets
to map and be respectful
of the tribes, even if
it’s to his own demise.
1/22/2018
Categories:
portage, adventure, history, nature,
Form:
Free verse
An unkempt man approached me one dark evening
'In pursuit', he said, 'of a favour'
'A drink' he explained, but I was unsure of his meaning
When he specified it should be of a refined yet peculiar flavour
Then as he percieved I was not repelled, he moved nearer to enhance his rapport
Until in the light of a streetlamp I could see the bottle he held
And I wondered what fate had in store
It was clear now he was dressed in strange clothing
Of a style that one rarely meets
Except for perhaps if roving, in a town of Dickensian streets
I failed not to judge as I leaned closer to hear just what he might suggest
I thought 'how gracious of me to humour this poseur
In his pale make-up, black bowler and velvet overvest'
On the bottle he held his black fingernails drummed
They were varnished as per his morbid fashion
And in his throat the tune he hummed
Spoke of past revels and passion
Until at last had mustered his confidence and a pleasing tone
In which he proceeded to intimate his desire
That alas, he possessed no blood he could call his own, so therefore he was forced to enquire
As to the possibility of a small donation, it would not take much time just a tick
The procedure requiring just two things worthy of mention
Those being a vein and a slit
Of course I recoiled aghast, and vainly attempted to call
As I found I could not make a sound
Then it was only when my head lolled down that I saw
His feet hovering an inch from the ground
I was unable to engage any muscles as a fingernail pierced my left wrist
Or when he filled his bottle with a pint of my best red corpuscles
Then pocketed it with a hiss
He said he could see why he might be reviled
For the comtempt he had treated me with
Then he parted his lips and smiled
To allude to the fiendish alternative
It was a smile of rapacious appearance, that made my heart shiver and shudder
For as anyone could tell from even that quick glance
His smile was a smile like no other
Then with a doff a wink and a smirk
He smoothly departed our puddle of light
And melting into the inky black murk
He receded into the night
Now whenever I am about after dark
I determine to not be so too late
And ever since that experience left it's cruel mark
I portage garlic cloves, holy water and a stake
Categories:
portage, america, anxiety, art,
Form:
Free verse
Just one short portage and the park is ours,
Canoe laden down for a one week stay.
At the site in just a matter of hours.
It has been too long since we got away.
The next morning calm, with a touch of fog.
Sitting on the bank, the sunshine a plus.
Deep croaks emitted by an old bullfrog
Echoing back from the cliff behind us.
Five-Lined Skinks running across the rock,
Endangered now, once so commonplace.
Yodeling Loons with their morning pep talk.
Chipmunks scurrying at a nutty pace.
Pour-over coffee perfuming the camp,
The sizzle of bacon beckoning all.
Maybe we'll paddle once it's not so damp
Or just laze around until it's nightfall.
And when the day dims and darkness is king
We'll look up to see that old Milky Way,
Shooting stars, and the moon on it's upswing,
Preparing the skies for a brand new day.
The fireflies flitting freely in the bush.
Raccoon eyes reflected by the campfire.
The occasional mosquito ambush.
That's when you know it's time to retire.
And tomorrow perhaps, when we arise,
We'll launch the canoes, go out and explore.
Pulling back the veil on natures disguise
Or sit in the tent and let the rain pour.
Categories:
portage, holiday, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
LICKING WOUNDS
Lulling the bye and bye
In dreams that oozed and wept with the regret
Of unfinished business
In the portage veiled with the drift of confusion
Sustained by the envisioned memory
Of snarling words and demon eyes
Ejaculating horror from the love swept beginnings
We once knew
Reigning in this fiery heart so full of itself
To burst in the moment
Releasing its pent-up punishment
To sing in the realm of forgiveness
The harmonies long forgotten
Belied by the swan song that lost its rhythm
Along the path of little substance
Of fabled passion
Weeping upon the pillow of hiding
To disappear while each tear washes away
The dirty laundry stained with apathy and rejection
Dwelling in the temple of our shallowness
Buried in the effort of our escape
Emerging like the slow sunrise of a spring day
Diffused into believing tomorrow will never be the same
To any Joy that is created
Categories:
portage, anger, anxiety, devotion, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
THE WAILING CRY OF MAMA AFRICA.
Who shall I tell this story
Who will heal this injured glory
We were like Jack and Jim
We climbed the hills together
Like a cock poured hot water
My comb is fallen with no feathers
To beautify my skin
The pride of my womb lies desolate
Who will suck this firm breast up before they become fallen
Cried out Mama Africa
The portage of hot yam have been served
My children are eating with bare hands
Stained by their red bloody thick pourage
What baffles me is how hungry they are
But still eat with heated hated courage
Cried mother Africa
As she watched down from the Futajjan
Asante Asante Asante
With his golden stool he accended
As mama Africa enchanted
The fire wood is ready for fire he seated
My son the woods have been used for cooking while you were asleep
As Mama Africa hissed
There comes my son Odudua
With his brother Eri looking angry
The water in the coconut have excaped
It was never sapped
Woo-hoo woo-hoo woo-hoo cried mother Africa
Who chased the spiders and break the webs
Now they travel on their own in peace and shame
Mama Africa cried out
Anansi where is your trick your brothers children have faced a puzzle they can't solve
Chiwara she called the beauty in thy horn now
Have become thorns on thy head
Mawu-Lisa the twins, where lies the beauty of your marriage
Kwakwau kwakwau kwakwau Mama Africa cried with all her children lost in thought
The Obodom drum beat can no longer withhold my tears
Abbassi and Attai whispered as she cried
Chineke moved out in confusion
As Arusi quickly brought his snuff box
Even my evil heart can not bear this shame Adrao murmured
Damballa my son you failed to govern my children's will
You allowed my children forget the road and work the hill she queried
Roog,Mwari reject the sacrifices your brothers are at war Mama Africa cautioned
Chuita tell Obatala that his handicapped children need healings
who will dry my tears shouted mama Africa
As she wailed aloud.
As all her children gathered around the fire
Tired and retired they all joined their mother to wail
As they watched from Futajallon so they took of their crown.
Categories:
portage, 1st grade, abortion, africa,
Form:
Prose Poetry
weighing curds and whey
the spider spied, her courage
curdled, ran away
----------
another alliterative haiku for you
Categories:
portage, nursery rhyme,
Form:
Haiku
Who is the bear;
That is running scared?
Taken what is not his
What it is, what it is;
Telling you what's good for you
And what's not
Drinking portage and hemlock (what)
And who is the lion
whose got the people crying
Saving grace has no place for intolerant tying up people with masking tape
Must break free, watching out for the killer bees
And who is the man
That has a better plan than I
Whose life is it yours to take
And whose lies are you gonna enforce
I won't intricate nor retaliate
I'm just gonna sit here and wait
I won't intricate nor retaliate
Just gonna sit here and wait just wait
Eat all of the vegetables here on my plate
Carrots, broccoli, sweet beans and rice
Peas, collar flower and spinach leaves
I am gonna eat the greens and the fat of the land
Why is the lion up and roaring?
And why is he trying to take what's not his taking what is stolen
Put it down, put it down lion;
Chasing and killing innocent children women and men
And who is the lamb, steady and fine where is Ben?
Open and ready to determine His kind
Saving grace has no place for intolerant hipOquits huh!
And who is the man
That has a better plan than I
Whose life is it yours to take
And whose lies are you gonna enforce
I won't intricate nor retaliate
I'm just gonna sit here and wait
I won't intricate nor retaliate
Just gonna sit here and wait just wait
Eat all of the vegetables here on my plate
Carrots, broccoli, sweet beans and rice
Peas, collar flower and spinach leaves
I am gonna eat the greens and the fat of the land
am gonna eat the greens and the fat of the land
cause that's the kind of man I am
Eat the green and fat of the land
04/15/14
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
Arranged music by Jonathan Echtinaw
Categories:
portage, adventure, allegory, allusion, character,
Form:
Lyric
Cherry paddle you carved a few years ago.
Short portages in with good trail, except for
One boggy bit to breed mosquitoes.
Mosquito repellent for said boggy bit.
No motorboats after first portage.
Fair wind and clear sky, except for
One bad day to make the trip real.
One big fish that got away for next year.
Enough fish caught for one supper and one breakfast.
Wild blueberries for pancakes and bannock.
Whippoorwills calling in the evening, followed by.
Wolves howling and Barred Owl calling at night.
One clear night to marvel at stars overhead.
One night with Northern Lights flickering.
One misty morning with loons crying.
A wee dram of Scotch to appreciate the above.
Sufficient bladder capacity to avoid 1:00 a.m. pee.
One new gadget – this year a solar lantern.
Tent and air mattress that don`t leak.
Rain gear that doesn`t leak.
A long portage on return loop, just because.
Years of memories, just because.
7/28/2019
Writing Challenge 3, July 2019 - List
Categories:
portage, river,
Form:
List
My picture perfect woman---view
Blue is the color of your eyes;
While tender are your legs;
Your beauty is ever wonderful;
As your smile gleams past the haze;
The sun now rises on your head;
The ocean ever rolls on through your hair;
I image your portage on my stead;
The picture of you share;
Often are the men so jealous;
Now I don’t have to embellish;
Come to me my darling view;
My picture perfect woman you…
11/17/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
Categories:
portage, analogy, desire, how i
Form:
Free verse