You see them rise while still in the suburbs,
the rings of hills, the wilderness buffer;
smaller, more round than what waits further on,
some sport cabins atop with views quite long.
Down on the road some houses still pop up
for folks who hate the concrete, noise, and trucks,
and at crossroads, small stores with country themes,
selling jerky, t-shirts with wild scenes.
Then small motels folks claim on the weekend,
cars with kayaks, across the ponds to wend.
Just down from that, a smallish petting zoo,
with local critters strutting in plain view,
the kind you wish you could see in the woods,
but they all hide, and that’s for their own good.
Then a small lake, stubbed with second homes,
the kind that you hope someday you might own,
weathered docks and fishing boats on the lake,
could the trout here be big enough to take?
But now the peaks are stretching for the clouds,
buildings thin out, the road the forest crowds,
the foothills gone, these mountains your escape,
a wild land, the kind owned by the state.
Pink and sallow lemonade, marmalade and tangerine…
Explodes the Alaskan expanse - a slice of apple pie.
Apt U.S.A. hurray! My fanfare-fire flowers are serene.
Listen closely to the swoosh, the Sitka sunset in the sky.
Soothing to the mind, mind you, mindlessly-aware.
What dreadful daylight masks my delightful heights.
No matter the wildlife on land and sea, there is no scare -
the city’s eyes propped up-pop at Aurora-Borealis lights.
Kayaks fill the moony-eyed twilight, oars in dreamy seas.
With no cares at all, sunset-soaked, so cool the dark.
Cool as blueberry ice…dive right in. Feel Tlinget breeze.
Meet the humpback in the clouds, and spear a shark.
I just wish I could lean upon the mountain tops.
Perhaps I can, in daydreams, when no man is looking.
I’d look around then tap my toe in puddles on rooftops;
and peak in doors and windows to see what’s cooking.
But, the place I’m drawn to as the moon turns to silk
and the stars line up like the Rockettes in New York city -
my home sweet home…I’ll never leave it - sweet milk
splashed with sighs - Sitka atmosphere, fervently pretty.
There are many ways
to travel down the river.
Swimming, flowing,
diving, using: kayaks,
boats or yachts.
I have seen people
in stable boats, just relaxing and
from it time to time swimming
to enjoy the waters.
Some brave one’s dive in
the deepest and darkest places of the waters.
I've seen people in broken sinking boats,
yet refusing to let go of their boats.
Others are force by the current,
to leave their boats.
Many go against the current.
Some they get tired of swimming and drown;
not knowing that they could just flow and
enjoy the experience.
Many ways to travel the ever-changing river.
How are you traveling the river today?
There is no beached whale
though a walrus protecting the sea
Whom will attack anyone
invading his territory.
Capsizing boats or kayaks then
killing many aboard
Causing serious harm and tusks
with dominance they've roared.
Ahh the walrus-stay clear from
If you see one on the shore
Run away without delay
Don't stand there to explore.
Respect them from a distance
at home behind a screen,
Though they are great like mammals
Yet like people, can be mean.
Imagine 2 tonnes chasing you
for you've interfered with mating
Well that's a thought I just caught and
now could use sedating!
Jammed some fun into one day
Aboard kayaks, paddling play
Mangroves, stingless jelly fish
And in my head, a hand itched
In beats, a beach reggae-tunes
Crashing waves upon the dunes
As curling smiles seemed to mock
Monster cruiser at the dock
Yellow sun did set too fast
Dashing night on anchor cast
Awhirl the sea’s brooding deep
Yesterdays pile on the keep
(9/12/2020: '04 Carver 420 Mariner; DMS)
Every breath might be your last
Look not forward, look not past
Seize the moment hold it fast.
Leave your calendar
for a week without time
on a land marked by eras.
Paddling into the West Wind
the Old Woman breaths deeply
despite our tobacco tokens
waves breaking over our bows
as the swell slowly builds
yet our sturdy kayaks flit
across the swirling water like
water striders on a mill pond.
Casting the Dog River’s mouth
a silver steelhead seizes my lure
to dance atop the water and
add to tomorrow’s breakfast.
Waking up to a sky full of stars
waves murmuring on the beach
dark waters reaching to infinity.
The wind drops to a zephyr
at our back as the Old Woman
sleeps softly and we glide
across sun speckled water
and reluctantly return to
time marked by hours.
Memories of a week's kayaking on Lake Superior's North Shore.
Rush down from the hills and mountains
Maneuvering around untold hurdles
Negotiating paths of least resistance
Adorn your banks with trees in blossoms
Be the source of food and water
Float the kayaks and row the rowboats
Being a reveler for recreation
And through it all you must remember:
Sometimes shallow, sometimes deep
Sometimes wide, sometimes narrow
No matter the terrain, a river will always
Reach for its goal to merge with its ocean
May 6, 2019
Every time something breaks
like the pipe in the wall
we heard gushing
this morning
my wife wants to call
a repairman because
I can’t fix anything
except split infinitives
and dangling participles
and I usually agree
but this time
I mention the kayaks
in the attic and say
why don’t we hop
in the kayaks
open the front door
and sail down the street
wave to the neighbors
cutting their grass
planting their peonies
worrying about crime
and shout best of luck
we’re tired of the good life
we’re sailing away.
Donal Mahoney
Kayaks
Kailua Beach, sandy shores
keep paddlers at bay view,
kissing turquoise surface,
keenly riding the lips,
knocking on pantomime,
kid like, with seaman dreams,
kayaking reefs of bay.
3/9/17
Indianapolis welcomes you.
Navigate, find your place, sailing through
synthetic waterway just for fun.
Off’ring journeys with anecdotes,
carriages, kayaks and pedal boats
worthwhile way to enjoy snow or sun.
We'll park your vehicle, while you fete
with friends, fam'ly, or special date.
Hire out a gondolier; he can hunt
for local sites, you don't want to miss -
hideaways where you can reminisce,
use Indy’s canal at Riverfront.
written November 29, 2016
The sherbet orange light of a fall morning in Connecticut crackles with the scent pine. The lake’s parking lot overflows by nine thirty. The S.U.V.s park in a haphazard manor. The boat crew’s flight from reality – or the emersion in it—began in earnest hours ago. Neon-colored, plastic, kayaks adorn the grass skirt before the water’s edge. Dressed in shades as lively as their hulls, the small craft owners match themselves up with their water-horses. They shove off at random intervals.
geese
land and take off –
squirrels scamper
Disturbed, Lake Lillinonah ripples with the dip of paddle and the morning breeze. The cotton wood trees chatter to passing egrets. The smell of powerboats, only slightly mars the bathing-beauty glow of the day. Days end will find a conga line of cars pulling in to a local dairy for homemade ice-cream. Truly, God is in his heaven and all is right – at least here, for these few hours—in the world.
pink tipped tongues
lick sprinkles from the cone:
eyes roll
The morning -
kayaks launch, voices call,
sound moves cleanly over deep waters.
White ibis and blue heron cordon cypress knees;
shallow eddies mirror the faces of our dreams.
At twilight, sherbet reflections paint
sunlight's fair, fading face
on our lake.
Copyright, May 31, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
Pastoral country
Where folks wave to passers by--
Farmers plowing
Exit 386
Wal-Mart, fast foods, and hotels--
Tourists stop
Modern businesses
Of every type one might need--
The short road to town
Refurbished storefronts
With arts antiques and barbers--
Downtown businesses
Houses big and small
Fill the local neighborhoods--
Quiet streets
State Parks, music fests
And neighborhood barbeques --
Entertainment
Outside of town
Beautiful farms and woodlands--
The rural folks
The river rises
Bringing water to my land --
Children in kayaks
The home of brave hearts
Who understand nature’s way --
King and rattlesnakes
The home of the free
Where people are seen smiling--
Live Oak, Florida
ã June 5, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member MY LAND IS MY HOME
Sponsored by: ~ SKAT ~
Wallpaper Vapors?
I wanted to repaper my room
But mom and dad said it’s too soon
You just did it yesterday, you crazy kook
But THAT paper had kayaks and today I want nuns
My parents just looked at me, clearly stunned
Had I gone religious all of a sudden?
Ignoring them I tore down the paper with glee
It wasn’t level, anyone could see
And put up my nuns in revelry
But the nuns didn’t pop
So I decided to stop
And hang up my posters of musician Kidd Rock
But that looked too teenish to me
So I threw them away and grabbed a painting
Van Gogh’s “Starry night” looked like a dream
The perfect wall covering, at least while I sleep...
Palindromes used: repaper, mom, dad, kook, level
4/17/12
Black Eyed Susan
Ole Les set out by kayak from the shore
Big blue marlin rose from the ocean floor
Nipped his bait, gave Les a tow
Water-logged craft sank below
Friends shook their heads and said, "No Les, no more"
4/27/2011
Written for John Freeman's "Fishing" limerick contest
Okay, the man's name wasn't Les ,but this video shows two kayaks being towed 11
miles by marlins. I took a little poetic license with the ending too. Both men
survived. If you fish you will be amazed by this video:
http://www.youtube.com/user/KayakFishingTales?
v=FqVEvNocKTA&feature=pyv&ad=4751720259&kw=kayaking
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