Best Trek Poems
A Trek Into A Forest Wonderfully Deep,
(New Dawn- Second Battle, Part Two)
This vista, newfound view image of divine scene
fertile virgin ground, pretty as a peacock's preen
born of inked splashes, and poet's bleeding blood
flow from deep gashes, paints virgin soil as red-mud.
Nature's true beauty sent to poet's beating heart
illuminated glory at dawn's gifted start
gurgling brook, waters racing into crystal clear lake
sad weeping soul inhales, as much as one can take.
Morning trek, my how such a change the mind renews
once a train wreck, now healing beneath sky blue
All aghast, miracle that comes as divine gift
life changing wonders sent so fast, sent to uplift.
This vista, newfound view image of divine scene.
Fertile virgin ground, pretty as a peacock's preen.
Robert J. Lindley, 10-19-2019
Sonnet, ( The Second Battle-- Part Two)
Note: I rose from bed early. By 6 am I was 8 miles away,
walking into the deep woods. Therapy for a soul that was
in deep blues, seeking an answer to how to fight this dark
and its beasts that it so uses. Mother Nature spoke, saying-
to poet soldier, this such savages can never truly see. Watch
as I gift you such deeper sight. As I saw images that I never
had seen before. I realized, my deep blues were trivial and
a temporary lapse on my part. As once I knew we mortals
too oft fall pray to the destructive voices of the minions of
darkness and its infinitely wicked rage. Arriving home,
mere minutes later sipping hot coffee on my front porch.
Nature spoke from my front yard as a squirrel climbed down
from an oak tree fifteen feet away-- looked at me and chattered
away for about three minutes! Then I understood, too oft we
forget to fight! Coffee drank, into my den , my sword ,sharpened
anew. This the second battle commenced and ink splashed to defeat
an enemy that never ever sleeps, and never ever gives any mercy
to its foes... And so the cycle continues.......
Kirk: ‘Lt. Uhura, come to my quarters at 1800 hours’
Uhura: ‘Yes captain, might I ask what’s up?’
Kirk: ‘Nothing now but something WILL be at 1800 hours’
Bones: ‘Jim, is this a medical issue?’
Kirk: ‘You bet your ***** it is, Bones’
Sulu: ‘Captain, a Klingon ship is approaching’
Kirk: ‘Blast that sucker to smithereens, I got a date’
Chekov: ‘Captain, you’ll need protection on this mission’
Kirk: No problem Ensign, got a few here in my wallet’
Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘May the force be with you’
Kirk:’ Thanks Obi, but you’re in the wrong contest’
Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘This isn’t PD’s contest?’
Kirk: ‘HELL no, now SKAT will probably disqualify us’
Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘Well, may the force be with you anyway’
Kirk: ‘Look Kenobi, nobody’s forcing ANYBODY here’
Spock: ‘Captain, I’m receiving a message from SKATfleet Command’
Kirk: ‘What Mr. Spock? And why do you always talk like that?’
Spock: ‘To qualify for the contest, the writer has to command the ship’
Kirk: ‘Damn it all! What the…FRONT AND CENTER WRITER!’
Writer: ‘Um…All hands on deck?...Anchors away?’
Uhura: ‘Ohh Captain KIRRK, it’s 1800 hours’…
Kirk: ‘Not now Uhura, I’m not in the mood!’
Uhura: Ohh Captain WRITERRR, it’s 1800 hours’…
Writer: ‘Kirk, you have the helm. I’ll be in my quarters’
Spock: ‘Fascinating’
Kirk: ‘Shut-up Spock’…
Tim Ryerson
Theme: Sexual harassment in the workplace
For SKAT’s contest
7/29/18
All over the road, about to wreck
One of many causes for yet another death
Too many chickens giving each other pecks
They just look and rubberneck
Person overboard, from falling over the deck
Luckily they had on a life vest
No offense
I don't want to sit around and work behind a desk
Far from over yet
It's been one heck of a trek
I currently work at a vet
Helping take care of people's pets
With care and respect
Putting forth my best
Situations being assessed
During the quest
Making progress
Taking continual steps
Striving towards success
And nothing less
In order for it to manifest
Otherwise there'll be regrets
Like all the beer I buy and drink at my own expense
Knowing it can have harmful long-term effects
Taking occasional time to reflect
Great and not very well is how it went
I wasn't making a dent
Until my intent
Went to the furthest extent
And was one hundred and ten percent
I got more than I ever dreamt
Near and far from items made with hemp
On days and nights with a drop or rise in temp
Such a f***ing mess
What the corrupt have been doing is grotesque
I'm not going to repent
Or lament
Occasionally I disconnect
From the internet
Took off and left
Went camping, pitched a tent
Then took a rest
Somewhere out West
For time I'm pressed
I got to jet
From the dirt back to cement
Taking care of business, and running through a check
Zero time to focus on petty things, no bigger than a speck
Yes
I confess
I'm lonely, I guess
Now let's
See what happens next
God bless
When my time comes, in peace I'll rest
By: Dalton Ogletree
A path appeared where I had set my gaze.
It reached from distant times beneath the sun.
To travel it took all one’s earthly days,
and soon, I knew, my trek would be begun.
The Tidings Wind was echoing through trees -
those stalwart prophets fixed along the path.
Humanity was sounding in the breeze
their mingled cries of grief and joy and wrath.
Though barely could I grasp the nature of
the journey I would take, I felt the thrill
of leaving home, for Father told me love
would greet me there below with my free will.
I’d stumble, but I trusted Him to place
His signs to guide me back by light of Grace.
"May the Force be with you!" Spock said
Leaving poor Jan shaking her head
For Bones does not care
That fills Jan with air
Since Kirk logs, "Warp Speed Launch" instead
Nearby are we to a beautiful lake,
the deepest one in the whole USA.
A trek to its rim we’re ready to take
on this wonderful snowy winter’s day.
Wearing our snowshoes, by sunlight’s first ray,
we go round Rim Drive; we’re well on our way!
At Windy Ridge, we can feel a light breeze
as we breathe in the air so crisp and clean.
Then onward we go, surrounded by trees.
This winter wonderland glistens – pristine,
and being a part of this perfect scene,
we cannot help feeling simply serene.
Beyond us on the horizon we see
the ridges of mountains outlined in blue.
White frosting adorns each tree prettily
when the best part of all comes into view!
It matches the sky’s most beautiful hue.
To gaze at this lake is all we can do!
A rose dusk turns into a sapphire night.
We camp underneath the brilliant starlight.
Dec. 29, 2018 for the Winter Wonderland Contest
and for Eve Roper's Sleeping Volcano Poetry Contest;
the Crater Lake was my inspiration.
The meadow has come alive with sight and sound
As I go through the gate, I hear buzzing all around,
The bees are busy working on milkweed flower
Waist-high daylilies and coral honeysuckles tower,
Enticing a few hummingbirds into the crowded field
I snap a piece of sassafras which is carefully peeled,
Soon I see three cottontails on the path up ahead
About the same time, a cardinal flashing by, all red,
I hear the call of a tanager and a mourning dove
Today, there is so much here in the meadow to love.
The narrow pathway is overgrowing with wild carrot
Originally blown over here from a nearby cattle lot
Breezes are stirring up the gnats and dragonflies,
And I keep wiping floating pollen out of my eyes.
As I expected the mother deer has weaned her fawn
I’m surprised to see her here so long after the dawn,
The afternoon sun beating down is now aggressive
I should have known better, it’s becoming oppressive.
I’ll head toward home, foregoing a walk to the river
A sunstroke is threatening; I have begun to shiver.
Written July 16, 2022
The Final Frontier,
Gateway to the Universe.
Enter open door.
Treks of Tracks of the past, current and future, we make
Treks of Tracks of a noted past:
Made mostly in our childhood days
This upon playing childhood games
and implicated in innocent playground escapades
Treks of Tracks of the past, current and future, we make:
Treks of Tracks of a notable past:
These made mostly in our long ago childhood days
This upon playing childhood games
and implicated in innocent playground escapades
Treks of Tracks left on dusty baseball diamond fields
and behind schoolyard scenes
This like those of our first fresh young puppy love endeavor
Then, a graduation to be a high-school novice, neophyte, newcomer, neutered
Treks of Tracks, present:
These present paths are made by repeated foot-falls
that are made one ahead of the other
These are a dusty foot print shown
A Trek of Tracks, that are of good and bad
These are filled with a composite collection, of people,
friends, lovers, comrades hugged, faced, embraced or chased
Treks of Tracks, made and left walking or driving on long roads
Tracks of Tracks, left and placed on many white sandy beaches
Tracks, made frolicking on wet rainy days
Tracks, made in the snow and racing home
Treks of Tracks, of our achievements put out on
full top trophy display
Treks of Tracks, on pen and paper revealing our soul
Treks of Tracks of imprints of events we are making every day
Treks of Tracks, future:
These are to ponder and contemplate then commence
Yet, Treks of Tracks, of our future are already hidden in place:
These are given paths to choose, as a Yes or a No
That it is to take or not to take, this is our future fate
This all eventually will happen with no prolong debate
"These are the Trek of Tracks we make"
Let me tell you a story …
Many pilgrims had passed this way before him
but had rarely stopped before trudging up the muddy path to the top of the hill
and then disappearing out of sight forever.
But he lingered at this shady spot at the bottom of the dip in the track.
The old stone tablet in the wall was overgrown with moss and ivy.
Rain droplets hung at the tip of every ivy leaf.
Catching the daylight, they twinkled like some distant constellation.
He pulled back the ivy, scraped off the moss to reveal the ancient writing.
By chance or maybe by some hidden force,
this place still belonged to the pilgrim’s way.
But the pseudo-pilgrims had no time to waste as celebrity beckoned.
Eyes fixed on the hill’s summit
they were oblivious of both this place and its significance.
The inscription read
If you look too hard you will not see
If you talk too much you will not hear
If you think too much you will not learn
If you walk too fast you will not arrive
If you are true to yourself you will be content
You will unlock the secret door
He reflected on what he had read but not too deeply and then smiled.
He had another 150 miles to walk which he could do in six long, arduous days
but now it would take him ten days of contemplation.
The climb up the hill was different from what had gone before.
It was exhilarating for the wonders of nature were all around to experience and enjoy.
Every step was stimulating.
The inscription filled his mind.
Slowly but surely the door opened.
The days passed and he realised the pilgrimage was of the mind not of the body.
Walking gave him space and time.
Ten days later he was uplifted and at peace
having stepped through the door of enlightenment
once secret and now so obvious.
He smiled at the pseudo-pilgrims there with him at the end.
He felt sadness for theirs was a superficial achievement
judged against each other with a materialistic prize.
They had been on a walk but not a pilgrimage.
He gave them one last glance,
turned and strolled into life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
25 April 2022
First Place Contest Name: Form N - Narrative - New Poems
Sponsor: Constance La France
Chosen Theme: #1 Journey
Winding path through the tawny wood
Hanging branches form a shadowy hood
Dangling vines each spindled fold lace
Slippery, svelte moss cloaks the base
The vented light peeps through fibrous trellis
Addled mind with beauty to encase
Swerving shadows creep down the swaying lattice
Each truncated step to efface
Fallen leaves weave a sprawling mat
Soft soles o'er silky fibers prat
Trodding o'er tender mushrooms, rendered scat
Listless feet trample each groove; probe each slat
Restless roots the rugged edges trace
The undergrowth crowds the shrinking space
Meandering route into sleepy hollow careens
Whittled bushes, saw grass the stillness gleans
Through the swaddled cradle padded soles calmly pace
The rhythmic lullaby of whistling wind heart doth embrace
Through stunted hollow into bracketed thicket
Spiny branches throw up a cumbersome picket
Each spiked shrub colludes to form a sticky wicket
Bristling, twining band is serenaded by singing cricket
Struggling through the gristly garden
My stinging heels bleed for reprieve, pardon
Just ahead, a carpeted, emerald meadow streams
My sodden feet dance into the velvety seams
May 25th, 2015
My Trek with Shrek
We met
Me sippin a coca-cola
You singing the rock & rolla
“Here I go, turn the page”- Bob Segar
The beauty of your soul shining thru
Two eminent eyes of the bluest-blue
You captivate me
We are destined to be…
Waiting patiently to be served
I watch with fond newfound vitality
Enough time has elapsed
Perhaps you are parched you see…
I gently approach with a fist-fulla-dollas & wave ‘em at the barmaid,
“jack and coke I say!”
Duly deserved, you are served
Our friendship begins…
It was the trek with my Shrek
Not the destination
I’ll drudgingly continue my journey on this Earth without him
Until we meet again...
Fondly,
Your Princess Fiona
She found a job near Annapurna and when she trekked around a turn
It was like walking into a wall of beauty, awesome like a burn
It sometimes stopped her cold; this display words could not surpass:
Alpenglow on distant peaks, flags on a mountain pass.
Her ancestors lived by Polish rivers, but none were like Dudh Koshi
From Glacial Lakes on Everest and eventually to the sea.
A torrent crashing down, sometimes turquoise, sometimes white
Slowly weaving through dense forests at Nepal's lower height.
Get up early at Kala Patthar, witness Everest catch the sun:
Its light chases over the lakes and on the ridges runs.
Paraglide off Pokhara, see dawn mountains pink and gold:
Bright greens of forests, rhododendron blooms unfold
Cross Mountain rivers: the bridges sway like cradled dreams,
Ski the slopes in Auli, or row on quiet streams.
You can see the highest mountains mirrored inside the highest lakes
Look up at the clouds pierced by peaks, the patterns nature makes.
In Spiti’s stark embrace, stars hush all petty human talk,
Past Khardung La’s high pass, desert camels softly walk.
Dharamshala’s pines and meadows whisper in your heart,
Yet after a vacation spent in awe, you know you must depart.
Some trek here after wars they fought, or before new roles begin,
Some come from countries flooded with crime, their leaders do them in.
I'm pessimistic; on our future I'd hate to bet
I feel a sword hangs overhead, but we just don't know it yet
But this is a place you can remember, before fate hits the fan
Just don't drive on the roads don't breathe the dust, make sure to have a plan.
And as you climb to basecamp, here's another reason why
From real to metaphoric, you can use a Himalayan High.
A group of three set out on a mountain trek
Beyond the known borders into regions strange
Climbing up steep and rocky paths
Daringly they moved forward
Engrossed by the beauty of the mountains
Flaunting their towering summits
Governed by an instinctive urge for adventure
Headed to the vast stretch of sands
In no hurry were they but in a relaxed mood.
Just a mile away stood the tall mountain peaks
Kissing the seams of the heavens
Lovesome was the evening and clear was the sky
Mild and pleasant was the climate
Never knew any fatigue
Oblivious of time speeding by
Passed across the vast stretch of sands
Quarter to a mile, the trek went haywire
Rapid was the arrival of the night
Sun had gone down in the west
Tedious was the journey in dim light
Unable to travel any further
Vanquished they felt, like defeated soldiers
Watchful they were of hindrances on the way like;
Xerophytes with thorns and humpy sand dunes
Yearning for safety, they retraced their steps,
Zooming through engulfing darkness…..
May.25.2022
Abecedarian Poetry Form Contest
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
Betwixt these tithes at her antiquities keen asylums; a foretokens child esoteric
Paleolithic etchings; afore their myths the caverns Acheron's absolved; loric tides..
Acute, this illness ironic it's stones ? Theology sects scribes a second coming as time.