Long Adventuring Poems
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All winter long I have thought of spring,
and now it is here and I want to sing;
so in the woods I go adventuring,
I do not walk- no, I go waltzing.
All around me song birds are chirping,
and delicate baby ferns are creeping;
soon, I come a blue stream murmuring,
where many wildflowers are unfurling.
All winter long I have dreamt of spring,
I lay on grass under a sun blazing;
in a tree above I see a bird wing,
a love pair are busy, busy nesting.
I daydream to the sound of twittering,
until a sweet hummingbird comes to cling;
on a pretty yellow daisy blooming,
and I ponder beside water babbling.
All winter long I have thought of spring,
I explore until the sun is fading;
and with a sigh I turn for home whistling,
oh, this spring day has be so calming.
________________________
March 13, 2018
Poetry/Monorhyme/For Spring, I Sing
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1003-626-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Who would have guessed — when I tilted my heart
toward baby lizard, perched on a colored desert stone,
she’d blink one eye at me, turn to smile, it seemed,
and lend a listening ear?
I’d only said in a lizard way:
I love you.
And who would have thought — that when stone had heard me
loving her, it would, it seem, speak back?
Loving stone, I was!
Stone, I so admire your villages.
I smile to your many stone peoples.
I eavesdrop on universal questions posed
around sacred fires carefully tended.
And around one hearth, among
cinder specks scattered– that one minute wisp,
grain of cinder there.
Dare I say I love you too?
I do! I do!
In that cinder grain I hear —
worlds of stars, sweetly singing!
By way of explanation, reader friend,
such is what a practice of
loving all beings equally
has made of me.
Crazed being?
Could be.
But could you nonetheless
accept the possibility
and likewise go love adventuring?
If you’d prefer, we could earnestly
and objectivity talk it all through.
Or say ~ Love come!
Speak through us.
Teach us how to listen.
i can’t complete a scene
no voices heard
in early years
i’d not retain
i’m all alone
i see it all -
school tables
the painting easel
the cardboard bricks
graham crackers and milk
i’d bounce along a truck tire -
sandbox of neighbor
ate cream cheese
& jelly sandwiches
on the braided rug
their mother crafted
but don’t recall
our conversation
life was quiet
i took it in
the subtle moods
and the trees
were always my friends
the breeze before the storm
the excitement as they whipped
and roared -
i retain this
the forest of my mind
tethered to sweet honesty
and honeysuckle scents
to loneliness
and friends
later I’d own a record player
go ‘round and ‘round with puppy love
and shake your booty
hang out with girlfriends
talking of spooky things and boys
i’d pack my bag
fly south in the Winter
take hold
of my seabag
go adventuring
searching for words
8/3/2022
Dearest Child-Adventuring Man, My Darling Peter Pan:
Since that never to be forgotten day when Wendy first brought
you my way, my heart has been enchanted thru and true with
love for you. You are as magical as your happy-thought dust
that brought me flight thru star-glimmer skies, shimmering great
joy from my soul-core straight to my eyes. With you, I have felt
amazing fantasy as enthralling reality because of the wonder that
is you and your purview.
I love Neverland, Tinker Bell, the boys and the countless joys that
made up the minutes of each day we shared. Though nothing in my
future will ever compare, I can no longer deny that I am compelled
to step into adulthood, that such is what I should do, what I am
meant to do, and must do without you. In your world, I will always
be your girl, but in the traditional world, I must let my woman
unfurl. What is calling me onward and forward is all that you
would never walk toward and risk dying adult-bored.
Turn any woe into a splendid crow of much ado, repeat until woe
has winded you, then smile to know -
~ I shall always gratefully and lovingly remember you ~
They said it’s time I settle down
If I can’t find a man of my own
They will be pleased to help me with that
They’re going to find me my man
They’re talking about me
As if they’re advertising me publicly
Like I’m up for sale
Ready to be picked off the dusty shelf
Wow
Do I not have my rights anymore
What is life without your own rights
Is life only complete when sharing with someone
But what’s wrong with my free spirited life
I’m happy
I’m enjoying life freely and joyously
I’m please to say my freedom is my happiness
This is me my body and my life
I hold the wheel but trust God to guide me
My life isn’t perfect but I am living in the moment
My freedom let’s me do as I please
So put a stop to make me your business
I maybe journeying alone but never lonely
Who said happiness is only when coupling
Happiness is your free will and to know God
It’s unbeknownst when
It’s unbeknownst whom
My heart be captured by IF EVER
But I’m not dying to get there to find out
I’m exploring life in my fearless freedom
Because the possibilities are unbounded
This world is full of life and adventure
I am a free soul seeker with a passion to experiencing my true self life
And with that said
This is me and my life
I make my decision choosing my path
And until then I’m driving solo singing loudly
Akkina
2/4/21
For my best friend who’s family is trying
to get her settle down and marry while she’s exploring her young life and adventuring this beautiful Earth...
A culture steeped in retribution
becomes blind to freedom's contributions
accessed best through healing restorations,
trust,
virtual stuff
for democracies most resilient.
A society resisting love's innovative brilliance
comic and jazzy improvising resonance
healing ecosystemic egos dissonant
from aquatic wombs of patient advent,
Adventuring winter's iceflows of stark stuckness,
as impatient as a tongueless mess
stuck to a frozen metallic national goalpost
just as bells and climate whistles end recess
sound a new tune of chaotic harvest.
National prison lobbies
would lock up tongues and time
arbitrarily confining unconverted inmates lying
behind naked bars of self-isolation
and electric waves of competing institutions,
Walls against multiculturing opportunity,
defensive moats with hungry crocodiles,
black and white defenses against sinful lazy aliens,
and aggressive ballistic lobbyists
addicted to non-conversations
of fear and self-righteous anger,
marketing everyday all-white lies
of capital-hoarding omission.
Collective fears of punishing reparations
for sins against past and future poor regenerations
expands like melting ice-slow crystals
freezing fear escapes so many freedom wronged,
confined by greed against imprisoned selves
against relentlessly orthodox "Other."
Multihappy revolutions of 2020 vision,
listening to prison's sad social addictions
powering over
to rediscover yin-power with prisoners
together decriminalizing
desecularizing
retenderizing
pardoning humane nature
for past angry RedState patriarchal crimes
against Earth's cooperative matriarchal freedom
green inspiring Spirit.
All of which causal root to reflective branches came,
then took off again,
to show
One WhiteHouse addiction
to a HillHell of competing prison power
is another's enchantment
and/or disenchantment.
6/24/17
Still adventuring
And endeavouring
Not always remembering
What the schools have been lecturing
Items needing sheltering
Or there will quickly be weathering
Many folks working hard at mentoring
And others just blethering
Unfettering
Then untethering
Onto bigger and better things
Don't for once, think it all won't ever sting
You'd be suprised at the joy that a letter brings
It's not going to always be crystal clear
And may be more than a little weird
What else shall I jot down and scribble here
Something about
How
There just may be no better time than now
What brought me to this sullen shore...
is not sheer curiousity at all,
but an equivocal question too hard to be answered
even by those whose minds are so cultured!
Pelicans swarm the February's frigid sky over the bay...
like clumsy butterflies greeting a spring's day;
it's past sunrise, and all clouds catch on fire,
fleeting to the western sky to avoid the infernal dire!
I take a brisk walk adventuring in the gelid wind's blows...
as the agitated waves indicate an imminent storm;
unafraid , I lean over the fortress's stones with hands so cold,
to feel the vengefulness of a sea frightening all humans!
It's Saturday mid-morning, I hear a shrill filled with emotion,
and a shivering pelican comes close to where I stand;
he doesn't want the crumbs in my generous hand,
but understanding and much more compassion!
If he could talk and tell of his plight so unspeakable...
I'd listen and make a promise for his survival...
where once limpid waters rolled so brightly,
painted in gold by the solar glow, now they look too murky!
Does he feel great animosity toward us...
we, who build and destroy, kill and terrorize?
And what made him turn to me so fearlessly;
and will we, rulers of this earth, show hiim some mercy?
It was getting dark and tension is rising
pumpkins alight with eerie smiles gaping.
Flames of orange and red flickering dancing
children ready to go trick or treating.
Shadows that take on new sinister meaning
depicting a witch on her broom flying.
Cauldrons full of evil brew bubbling
eyeballs in green purple slime floating.
The woods full of weird voices screaming
not a night to be alone out adventuring.
Fear is rife and danger is us menacing
according to legend souls ripe for taking.
Yet; hush, what is it that is happening?
making our blood curdle, leaving one trembling?
The simple answer is imagination and nothing
But each year the rumours continue growing.
Fed by stories and tales of horror never ending
some maybe based in fact most leave one searching.
This time next year again we will be quivering
victims of fear unseen from which we run panicing.
Quiet, restful Summer took us venturing
the season that matured from early Spring.
But now it's facing change, adventuring
to the stage that bends to Autumn's call.
Blissfully canceling direction, enters Fall
to soon create new glories all its own,
as Summer's pastel colors overhaul
to golden, burnished hues new days will bring.
Air becoming cooler, daylight even fades
as the sun sets earlier each day.
Landscapes turn to ash till each pervades
bright Autumn leaves that fall from every tree.
Left meandering near open places, quilts
of colored leaves grace the withered lawns;
while naked tree trunks stand like waiting stilts-
to sleep in Winter and awake next Spring.