Long Backpacking Poems

It's been four years since I've seen so much as an insignificant mountain creek. Been overburdened with comfort, now frantic with nature withdrawals, having to settle for photos found on Google Images: emerald pine trees,...

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It's been four years since I've seen so much as an insignificant mountain creek. I've been overburdened with comfort, now frantic with nature withdrawals and having to settle for photos found on Google Images: emerald...

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Mark Hurlin Shelton is a Poet from Cape Town South Africa, born in October 1967. He was raised by his grandparents in Three Anchor Bay, near Sea Point, where he attended his first schools: Ellerton...

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HELLO AND GOODBYE COCO	

I wanted a brown Labrador, blonde and black ,
I love them all
But I had made up my mind, anxiously I sat waiting for a call,
From the breeder, the phone rang ,
They had...

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Make hay while the sun shines.

I grew up as a closeted polypathic nature-mystic
on a marginal, at best, family farm
in Michigan.

This farm was my embryonic home,
an extension of my vastly loved and nurturing Mother,
more than my...

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Give  them  clear    mountain   lakes,   	
Kid-friendly  swimming  holes,	
Rafts,  canoes,  and  sailboats;        	
Dads  and...

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I LOVE DRAGONS ME 

I love Dragons me, especially if they have charm
Brush their teeth, don't smoke, or wish me harm

Fight my battles and send these demons packing
And on a day out, join me when...

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It all started with two kids 
Getting it for what they did 
Scripted it as taking it one step further from the flirty pass 
A teen camper and his lass 
All of a sudden rich...

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Prospect to rejection in a matter of minutes 
Always in a lifetime people rarely finish a sentence
We hop from line to line, relationship to relationship, family to family, job to job
Without adding the comma’s and...

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These are all ruminations that arose from a recent backpacking trip in the Ventana Wilderness


Needing to bring spiritual realities
into the press of raw humanity,
amongst the most humble
the dreamer seems visionary.


Addiction is a mirror;
if I look...

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Love, what an adventure. © Theresa Rossouw
Have you ever thought of love as an adventure? No? Well it is! It is an expidition into the unknown, a lifelong backpacking, camping journey through valleys, over streams,...

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I am going on an expedition I told my family sweet.
I might FaceTime, Zoom, Twitter or maybe tweet.
But I have to seek my fortune, so backpacking I will do.
I plan to go to Europe, Scotland,...

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Friendships end when they are put to test 
They don’t flex or bend weather old or best  
Someone useful becomes useless 
and selfish sides usually progress 

True closeness isn’t found in many 
never push...

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Give them clear mountain lakes,   
And kid-friendly swimming holes,	
Rafts, rowboats, and canoes;        
Dads and sons with fishing poles.
Give them clear night skies,    ...

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If you'll indulge me, this short poem, based on George Formby's WW2 forces song, was inspired by my son;'s experiences of backpacking in India over the past month. In that time he met ONE other...

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My body,
carries
the weight of the pack.
Walking,
and seeking to pray.
Vast space
opens,
my unlockable hope.
Silence,
keeps monsters at bay.

My breath,
eases
at the sight of the moon.
Echoing,
everything is okay.
Lupine flower
kisses,
my unloveable me.
Fields,
offer beds to lay.

My spirit,
strengthens
inside of my walls,
pushing,
them out of...

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