Long Adventurers Poems
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Ten adventurers went caving in Yorkshire Dales, England in 1967.
It was a gorgeous June day, so they were in terrific spirits.
Four of them decided not to continue a few hours later, unsure why.
The remaining six were all young healthy men.
Morag Forbes, who had discontinued the adventure, returned to the site.
Mossdale Caverns was underwater so she knew the six were in trouble.
Shocked for her friends, she ran to get help.
Many volunteers began digging a ditch, to circumvent water.
The six inside had been climbing and crawling through the cavern,
When a rush of water came in through all directions due to flooding.
They were caught by surprise in the labyrinth.
Sadly, they were buried inside the cave.
1
At peace perhaps too much
a fine Spring rain
we seek news from the desert or capitol
of those who have dedicated their lives to losing their lives for us
adventurers, ancient honor, land runners
this campaign a must to advance one's career
a war president needs war
2
All you need to know is the names of things
chambers of commerce and large corporations
elements, products, decay fungi, egg masses
cultivars and their relation to wild grasses and the edge
uses of herbs, languages of mammals,
purposes of insects, placement of rocks
the names of everything by which we know our way
3
I've read about those remarkable souls who maintain self-control
among murderers and the unentertained multitude
who may have even spoken persuasively
at the right moment for speaking
and thus attracted a now unwanted immortality
there are only two ways you can tell
a bird of prey from a vision - humor and ritual
4
the Fedex gal
would be unlike taking off Emily Dickinson's clothes
over the counter perfume and spray paint hair
postman's shorts, black socks
a woman's legs are much like a man's
yet she too is beautiful, too beautiful, weekends
boating with her man
5
Suburbs, lawns, blankets
in a long, long nursery of babies
napping, old, blameworthy
and, I say this respectfully, blind
certain and uninterested
in motives more subtle than their immediate comfort
Who am I to complain?
6
Plants, poems: riches
our financial advisor doesn't count. Good and simple
a man as he is. Comes tousled
from early morning golf and eyes puffy
from a late night fight or lovefest with his wife.
Inchworm
letting out its rope down an oak.
7
Late afternoon meeting
like the dry samara, achene or capsule surrounding a seed
how often have I tried to escape
my need, community, chamber of commerce
you cannot drive
the roads are theirs and the signs, perhaps
you can walk if you can name the plants and rocks and are willing to die
8
O happy family
there's some contentment in letting community and family decide
your place in it. Gatekeepers -
unconscious god, invisible hand, natural selection -
kind when refraining from violence
when not responding with force to the universe's effort
to extinguish us.
Before
Toussaint and Dessalines
It was nothingness
Organs, guts and spleens
Of our ancestors could be found alongside the roads
Many fleeing poor slaves in disarray
Were treated worse than animals
Oh! It's hard to find the words
To describe the usual carnage
From the time of slavery.
Before
The Battle of Vertières
Graveyards and cemeteries
Were virtually everywhere
Before
Pétion and Boukman
Christopher and Biassou
It was slavery
Blacks and Indians were considered savages
Worse than animals
Were humiliated, lynched, tortured, massacred, and killed
By adventurers, buccaneers, hyenas, deplorables, freebooters
Pirates, motherless bastards and marauders of the time
In search of sugar, foodstuffs, indigo and gold.
Copyright © June 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Time is but a fleeting moment for us...
Brief seconds in the Universe's life
The flash of a Nebula's awakening
The implosion of a high mass star.
We are but well traveled solo ghosts
floating in and out across barren lands
struggling between the trees of our existence
floating softly across life's impoverished sands.
We are but tough Adventurers
Following no one else's lead
We carry with us our knowledge
We ourselves are our trusted steed.
We are but secret lover's
Making love to ourselves and what we do
Having passion for only what is in us
Only knowing our own truths.
We are but our own creators
We create that of which we are
We can choose to hide our brightness
Or we can light the way like the sky's brightest star.
(January 1, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved,
Initialising silhouettes submit to midwinter dawn
Beginning willingly to swallow colour of choices
Fledgelings' flamboyant campaigns display oblivion
Audacious adolescents distribute chafing thoughts
Attach entire esteem to securing peer approval
Frivolous get transfixed in youth's lurid allure
Bustling balloons launch from high vaulting hearts
Adventurers revel in joy during jaunty occasions
Concerned observers avoid havoc's banquet
Money cascades proportionate to patrons' appraise
Circumspect travel with kaleidoscope analysis
Attentively pensive address torrid scheduling
Pallid consideration accompanies shaded misers
Assorted sections bolstered by merciful sharers
Principled accord favoured by fate's ultimation
Aura of agitation promotes copious desires
Hushed heeders find freedom in relinquishing
Dilating ease determines to exit temptation
Plethora of pleasures pledged by reoccurring sunrise
Replenished spirit operates as a doting shepherd
Validates delight in desiphered silence
Supreme reckoning denounces pretentious credentials
Clarity invades tainted captivity's insatiable tirade
Mortal manuscript mirrors sequel's assembling
20th April 2020
Submitted to Chantelle Anne Cooke's
Best NA Poem 2020 Re run
Under the veil of night, death is just a drawn curtain,
a dance of shadows that silently glides on walls,
we do not collapse all at once, but slowly disperse,
like autumn leaves carried by the wind into the unknown,
piece by piece, under the merciless cut of time,
a river that slowly spills into a sea of deep silence.
The young, these adventurers of untamed dreams,
die the hardest, yet live with an unquenchable fire,
the unknown is their friend, and truth, their guide,
they are the ones who give without asking for anything in return,
with open hearts, like comets streaking across the sky,
in a generosity that shines like stars in the night.
With every moment, we lose a drop of light,
like a candle burning down to the end of its wick,
but the young venture fearlessly into the unknown,
defying death with the smile of a new day,
for they know how to live or to die,
in a devotion that leaves a golden trace in our souls.
Thus, death turns into a mere echo,
a shadow dissolving in the light of dawn,
and life becomes a string of fragile and precious moments,
that burn, extinguish, and are reborn in the hearts of the young and ever-living.
I donned my best Sunday working coveralls
Plopped the hardhat on my waiting head.
Just another twelve hours of service rendered
To an employer who cares not if im live or dead
Ive seen days and months and years fly by
As I travel horizons far and wide
You become bitter to the loves lost along the way.
But you learn to bury the pain deep inside.
Ive fought with men with hardened hearts
Who poured out their hurts in the fists they threw.
But in the next Port of Call all was forgiven
And you would share an ale or two.
The land dwellers never witness the struggles of this life
Or the burdens of each cross we bear
Or how much we anticipate coming home.
And falling into loving arms that still miss and care.
Ive seen young lads come up the gangway
Thinking they have found an adventurers paradise
And watch their smiles turn to grimmaces
Once the sea steals their soul and life.
Its a job unlike no other
Where your gone for months that just drag on
And when you finally make it home again
You find your feeling like you dont belong.
I recognized you in an old photo
taken long before I knew you
You were among the ancient ones
The ones on whom you depended
You were brother, son, nephew
and cherished grandchild
I recognized you by your quiet demeanour
gazing with those watchful gentle eyes
I have witnessed that look many times
I am sorry I have not asked you more questions
Too often I am too busy to make time
Please tell me stories about the ancient ones
the ones who laid your foundation
Tell me about your happy and your sad.
What did you dream about for your future?
Have your expectations been met?
What is your greatest joy?
Two photos, one of you, one of mom
a handsome man and pretty girl
Were they taken before you were one?
Your family knew you both so well
They gifted you a lifetime
they knew you would endure
Together you have traveled far
You have accomplished so much
Another photo of your VW Bug
The six of you with that seventies vibe
you were all accustomed to close spaces
You and mom were courageous adventurers
You moved to this strange new world
This big empty city with ghost-like streets
white unfamiliar faces
I can’t imagine how scary it must have been
the sound of voices you could not understand
In a country that was not always welcoming
How did you survive your lonely?
Hours and days working away from home
You persevered, knowing what was important
Family has always been your priority
You were not seduced by the unimportant things
You are a good man William
Slow to anger, gentle of spirit
You see with kind eyes
I appreciate your smile
I appreciate being part of your picture
Your gifts have been passed to your children
your children’s children and their children
Your ripples have traveled far
There is another picture of us
We are standing on a staircase
Your children their spouses
and with children of their own
Without your breath
none of this would be possible
You and mom together
are the heartbeat of our family
Your Ninety years have been well lived
Thanks for blessing us all
Thanks for being a good and faithful man
Happy 90th Birthday Dad
You are greatly loved!
By Richard Lamoureux
Dedicated to my wife's dad for his 90th Birthday.
My park to me was not see-saws nor swings
instead, a treasure chest of stranger things.
A marble grave, 1891, well kept
where 'Tiny', estate owner's dog now slept.
The long gone Manor House front Portico
and where the star struck teenage lovers go
holds carvings, some initials, from the past
though in one case someone had left their last.
Script ' E Potts joined navy 1943'
Did such detail writ mean 'remember me'?
So many times I've gazed upon his name
that plea cut deep in stone it's power retains.
His call over the years still engraved there
since boyhood I have offered up a prayer.
The culvert is a concrete tour de force
too tempting for adventurers, of course.
Amphitheatre for screaming, scary,
in heavy rain, tomb for the unwary.
Mill races, lock gates, tunnels, falls and weirs
all testing grounds for our deep darkest fears.
There was no challenge our band could resist
we cocked a snook, and nature raised a fist.
Returning home, triumphant, green with moss,
in trouble, but we didn't give a toss.
The moment was our game and joy the prize,
such treasure blind to all but children's eyes.
Seek us out, the park was where you found us,
Green fields of innocence, it's magic bound us.
Feb 14th 2016
For contest 'The Park', sponsored by Craig Cornish.
Long ago
In a far away land
With stags in the glens
Salmon leaping so grand
This ancient Kingdom
With its lonely King
Longs for a maiden
To make his heart ring
No crusades
No battles no wars
His reason-ability
What do we want to fight for
The only war he faces
Is raging in his heart
To seek his chosen maiden
For his life to start
With his entourage they travel
To tour his Kingdom so
Through heather bloomed glens
Over mountains graced with snow
Many miles they have travelled
All in need of rest
Up ahead in the distance
A manse house, we're timely blessed
On the door his footman knocks
As it opens with a creak
What can i do for you
Bow, its your King your about to greet
They settle down for supper
Roast hog and venison pie
The King enjoying their welcome
Twas not the food that caught his eye
The Laird of this estate
Had two daughters, lovely named
Carolyn and Lorna
Blond haired and red head flamed
The one that made him smile
Was the way she looked at him
This blond haired gorgeous beauty
All curvy shaped and thin
With the politeness of a King
Would you like to walk with me
As they strolled around her garden
Talking of all that they could see
They talked of ancient mariners
The roamers of the seas
Adventurers, they would seek
To show new worlds to see
En captured by her knowledge
Her smile, long blond hair
Is it the politeness of a King
To be in awe and sit and stare
They head back to the manse
To retire for the night
Both lying awake in thought
Something here, clicked tonight
Now many months have passed
Visitations to and fro
The King to her dads estate
This blond to his castle so
Then on one sunny day
As they rode through his Kingdom's glens
Enjoying this place of beauty
In his cloak, some thing full of gems
In the presence of his lands
The King goes on one knee
My dear darling Carolyn
Will you marry me
Yes my darling King
I will marry you
Today we are engaged
Tomorrow, this precious join of two
They head back to his castle
Through his glens and rivers of blue
For on their day of marriage
The Kings heart at peace and true
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