Long Yosemite Poems
Long Yosemite Poems. Below are the most popular long Yosemite by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Yosemite poems by poem length and keyword.
Downtown moody boulevard chaos with
geometric grid shaped layout and contrasting
zones some fashionable clapperboard happy
comfy with creepin Bougainvillea outer walls
and others dark and lonely dog dirt proud – San
Francisco with its great fishing net big catch clam
mix of Chinese, Mexican, Red Indian stock, the down
and dowdy, the rich and radiant the haves and want
to haves and the opium red eyed living dead – they’ve
been heading out this way for years seeking their
fortune from the early gold rush days and Barbary
coast dwellers, the out of town chancers, all looking
for a free piece of pie, everyone wants the deal, everyone
wants to win on the dollar wheel – walking downtown
along Fisherman’s Wharf with it crab steam pots and
chowder sit easy squats and the huge swaying mass of
touristy camera clicking lot, walking down Obese Pacific
Highway thinking about America land of make it, use it,
chuck it, heaps of expendable disposable commodities –
visited City Lights bookstore shrine where Ferlinghetti
printed Ginsberg’s Howl and the whole Beat Generation
kicked off with the free flow thinkers so new and daring
think Pollack in words so brave and loose now faded with
ghosts of Kerouac and Burroughs in every shadowy bar –
big visit to Frisco Museum of Modern Art and introduction
to Sam Taylor Wood and Ralston Crawford keeping the
flame alive. Yosemite was a silent mountain contrast
hiking 5000 ft to elevated waterfalls on the trail of the
lonesome pine – then along the coast of grow anything
Santa Barbara, Santa Maria, Santa Monica and sacks of
Santa Claus goodies. Looking forward to Big Sur and
more Kerouac dream connections. Not looking forward
to flying home, could stay her, would stay here, if I was
rich or carefree with time, or daring and loose.
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From Cattle Monguls
a book by.
Hatcher Causguaver
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Negasunt Powder
An ornery sort,
I wondered if
my choice of horse
was a good decision or not.
It gave me the opportunity
to ask the tenderfoots about
their readiness of relief
against the infestations.
Two dogies due to illness was alarm enough
for me. Now if something due to unreadiness
wouldhave us seen as unfit countrymen
I wanted to be prepared.
We practiced readiness drills
and due to what was happening and what could
happen we worked smart
and stayed ready.
We bought power for open wounds if there were some
and kept cattle out of wooded areas and
nearest to the center of the grazing fields.
More good things to say than bad, neither
found us in a position that created a tense feeling of being
overwhelmed but an action to show
readiness might have us
trade our hands to different parts.
Meaning let these guys go over there and work
in a new area and let the other guys
come over here and do there thing.
Before something happens and we are
forced to be meaner then what is needed.
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Cattle rustling has evolved from historic Wild West
raids into a sophisticated, multi-million dollar underworld
The guy is said to be the guy who warner bros.
Yosemite Sam is based on.
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The darkness accepts the awakening of a new day over the eastern rim of the valley floor.
The distant highlands sculpted by nature’s wind and ancient ice accept this sun ’s morning’s gift of bright glistening golden crowns along their uppermost edges, as the lower masses blanket themselves in shades of soft blue mist.
Sheared cliffs stand guard as sentries protecting all that lives on the valley floor.
A meadow bounded by an emerald green forest that has given perch to the midnight stars for a thousand of years awaits the first ray of warmth upon its branches where a mountain jay trumpets with joy.
Given this moment of tranquility, my soul returns to its resting place_ concealed by time, laid to rest by my brothers the Miwoks of the Yosemite; my valley for evermore.
Day-32 “Word of the Day”
Hold it in your hand
Let its touch heal your anxiety
It has a nice ring
It rhymes with divinity
Inhale the fragrance
Of its wonder
Let it baptize your soul
It rhymes with contentedly
Seize the breeze
That rustles the leaves
Of galaxies far
It rhymes with eternity
Capture a sunset
In Yosemite
Savor its glow
It rhymes with heavenly
Play a flute
On a grassy knoll
Let the sheep know your call
It rhymes with breathlessly
Wrap your arms
Around her
Tell her you love her
It rhymes with ecstasy
Gift yourself this word
Joyful its peace
Beautiful its tranquility
Is but
“Serenity” 7/21/2020 #58
Yosemite’s Ephemeral Autumn Falls
Bald giants of swift water smoothed pale granite
Mark deep clefts for tumbling summer snowmelt
Rush released from frozen streams once frostbit
Silver swells - Ribbon Falls in pure ice melt -
Ephemeral streams slowed beneath Orion’s belt.
Thin tulle mist from autumn’s gossamer Bridal Veil
Flutters, bathing stony arms embrace of Royal Arch,
Quaking Aspen in Alder Creek covers Misty Trails
Witness near the Staircase wildflowers parched -
Golden leaves on steep slopes from the western larch.
Sheer barren faces only seep crystalline tears
As rivers flow to shallow autumnal rivulets
And Fire Falls wait for wintery floods to reappear
When somber quartz welcomes new Cascades reset
Catching torrent tides, flashing in a fiery sunset.
Wild Cat eyes the Sentinel in thirsting, dried up rills
That thinly coat plutonic rock in a glacial train
Only a trickle floats lazy scarlet sent over these hills
No tumbling drops tickle Waterwheel to turn with rain
While Snow Creek laments in narrow runnels refrain.
No gushing rivers plunge in roaring thunder veils
Nor scramble down Yosemite’s plainly marbled face
Scant silvered dews spill over on Nevada’s trails
For soon the breathing winter storms many falls erase
Till joyful spring redeems autumn in this magic place.
A tribute to the magnificence of Yosemite during autumn.
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the Lord
As I stand here in worship, hands held high
Angels above singing, a standing ovation
A testament before all of creation.
I enter his court with thanksgiving
Unworthy, yet here I stand before him
He is Lord of Lords, King of Kings
Hosanna in the highest, creation sings
This night here in wondrous Yosemite,
I sing praises to my God and Savior
In glory the stars rejoice, so profound
And upon the rock, his hallowed ground
For this is the day that the Lord has made,
I will rejoice and be glad in it
Let the moon and heavens above cry out
Until his return with trumpet’s shout!
By Rick McGrath, Ph.D.
I cycled across the river to Fort Lee
Then on the park roads under the Palisades
At the time it didn't occur to me
Undercliff Park didn’t come free; a man had paid.
I walked the carriage-road of Pocantico Hills
It was early, I saw cows and said "moo"
I vaguely heard of the man who paid the bills
So I could walk through fields, enjoy the view.
I hiked with my brother in Acadia Park
We pitched a tent on Mount Cadillac
High above the sea, lightning after dark
At sunrise, we high-fived, and put on our packs
I didn't know John’s spirit hovered there
The man who paid for all this land
A man who did more than his share
A believer, he made this his stand
Above Jackson Hole I rode my bike up high
Clouds dispersed, snow-peaks showed
I felt the rush, like an advance guard spy
John spent well, this was what he chose
John’s descendant Marion wanted revolution
So it could take away her money, deal with it better
Peggy Rockefeller joined SDS as a solution
Some rich kids see wealth as an iron fetter.
John Senior and John Junior, would they plea?
Be dismayed at the causes to which their money now goes?
Would John ask the fund’s new trustees
Not to fund radicals, and NGOs?
Maybe its intuition, that makes a man decide
But take a hike in the Smokies, or Yosemite and recall
In this kind of charity John took pride
An Idealist whose legacy still stands tall.
Now in Pocantico I wear a disguise
I’m full of shame, it’s true
Because whenever I come over a rise
Some kid laughs and points and says “Moo”!
Way back, September, sixty-three
Dad took us to Yosemite
It wasn't really very far
To drive there in our family car
To my blessed, and great surprise
right before our very eyes
A car rolled slowly round the bend
A famous guy, and my dad's friend!
I'd heard his name on the T.V. set
I heard it, you did too I'll bet!
If you lived back in '63
Maybe you met him, just like me
I'll never forget that glorious fall
When my dad cried
"There's Ole' What Cha McCall!"
Well, if that was not enough delight
I told my friend from school that night
Excitedly I explained to her
Just where we saw him, and where we were
She cried out "Oh we were there too! We saw
Ole What Cha McCall!!! We did too!!!"
Nearly sixty years have passed
This finally came to me at last
Ole' What Cha McCall, at Yosemite
mighta' been her dad...…….
AND the dad of me....
Though Ole' What Cha McCall
not
the same guy be!
CAMP 4
‘If I die, I die.’
The realness of those words
sent a shiver down my spine
as I listened to the climbers.
It was late autumn, 1969.
There was a pause after his words
and each face made the slightest nod
peering deeply into the flames;
Tom Bauman had just soloed the Nose.
Slowly, I began to put pitons into
the face of life, jammed my fist
into fissures, and ascended slowly.
I delighted when my blood dripped
onto the dark diorite veins in the granite.
For this is life and I believe
in the challenge of the ascent and
the use of a life to outlive it.
It is now the winter of 2014, and
I wander through Camp 4.
I look at the young, intense faces
as they to peer into the flames.
I would share with them what
has been my own first ascent,
but Tom lives on, so I scream
to a startled camp my tribute to life:
‘If I die, I die.’
I applaud you, my homeland...this Golden State!
From Coronado Island...to the Golden Gate
We live on the edge of a continent...
With masses of land that stretch out to the sea
One can lie on the beach...and drink in the breeze
Our glorious coastline, the Central Valley and more..
Mighty redwoods so tall, where the eagles can soar
Don't forget all the wonders of our National Parks
Lassen, Sequoia, Point Reyes on the shore...
Death Valley temps hit the highest marks!!...
But the best, by far...
Is Yosemite Valley, our glorious star!
Freeways and traffic.... (oh dear)....L. A. has smog!!
Travel magnificent Hwy 1, but you'll drive in the fog
In the far northern state you will find MY house!!
And way down south.............lives MICKEY MOUSE !!!! :)
For Rick's contest
I Applaud You !!