Fog is rising from the distant valley,
As morning creeps toward high noon
While courageous rafters run the river,
And the early climbers reach the crest
Of the outcropping along the edges
Where the river valley ceases to exist.
written September 12, 2021
"Bite Size Poem No 21" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Line Gauthier
Rolling hills dim in the distance
Beneath low-hovering mists,
While an occasional stand of pines
Punctuates the shallow canyon rim,
The steppes to the summit appear
Like wrinkles carved into the face
Long ago, the sharp outcropping defines
A deep crevice plunging sharply
Toward the foreground in shadows,
Vanishing into imagined darkness.
written August 10, 2021
(inspired by the scenic view on a
screen-saver, location unknown)
Freely Asked And Wholly Answered
In Each Others Touch.
This As Much As More
And Never Less Than All.
Strange And Wondrous
Beauty Thou Art Rare
To Thus Descend
Upon Me Now As I,
Stand Thus Transfixed
Transformed Again,
Turned By Ancient Fingers
On The Lathe.
What Outcropping
Does Such Life Unravel?
Move Your Gavel To The Task At Hand.
Turn Your Wheel, Gravedigger Time,
That We May Turn Away;
Live To Scramble Eggs
Another Day.
Exquisite Pain
Unfolds As Petals Slowly
Opening Embrace,
Finding Sunshine
Kissed Upon Our Face,
Seeking Pleasures
In A Desperate Race.
Catch Me Though I Fall
And Breath Be Yet
To Hold Thine Hand;
Walk With God So Small
In Footsteps Shuddered
On This Land.
Oh Beauty Still,
A Tragic Glimpse Tis All.
hot, humid, barren
granite outcropping garden
brown moss, flowers bloom
8/3/2018
Sorrow drowns on dry land
Standing at a distance,
staring at staggered lines
on a rock face outcropping
buried deep beneath
an ancient rose garden
Corroded iron bars
chained and bolted,
left for dead as brittle petals
find a funnel cloud forming
and dance in a whirlwind mosaic
Disguised bold lettering
of forgotten fonts curl and peel
as bark from a crying birch tree
waits for spring
so it can start anew
Sunlight smears blue sky dreams
in finger paint colors
designing the moment
in portraits of a heart – this heart
basking in your glow
And as your smile approaches
the earth rejoices, pine tree party hats,
hibiscus streamers wave
as a happy ending reigns
at the conclusion of this poem –
with the deceptive title
COLLABORATION CONTEST
The Petal-Sprinkled Path
The petal-sprinkled path
We walked together
The lip-sharing math
In the cherry weather
We walked together
Time flew with lightning speed
In the cherry weather
Witnessed by the moss and weed
Time flew in lightning speed
We knitted the tales of lips
Witnessed by the moss and weed
Through an ocean moved the ships
We knitted the tales of lips
Amidst of ancient woodland hidden there
Through an ocean moved the ships
In a quiescence of lulls spell, time wears
Amidst of ancient woodland hidden there,
Outcropping of pleasure, around, and through
In a quiescence of lulls spell, time wears
Audience veil, ardent scents, and blush dew
Outcropping of pleasure around and through
Bring forth a curtain of rare verdant trees
Audience veil, ardent scent, and blush dew
Peering out heavens trickle summer seas
Bring forth a curtain of rare verdant trees
The lip-sharing math
Peering out heavens trickle summer seas
The petal-sprinkled path
7/7/2017
Poetry Contest: COLLABORATION CONTEST
Sponsored by: JAN ALLISON
The Petal-Sprinkled Path
The petal-sprinkled path
We walked together
The lip-sharing math
In the cherry weather
We walked together
Time flew with lightning speed
In the cherry weather
Witnessed by the moss and weed
Time flew in lightning speed
We knitted the tales of lips
Witnessed by the moss and weed
Through an ocean moved the ships
We knitted the tales of lips
Amidst of ancient woodland hidden there
Through an ocean moved the ships
In a quiescence of lulls spell, time wears
Amidst of ancient woodland hidden there,
Outcropping of pleasure, around, and through
In a quiescence of lulls spell, time wears
Audience veil, ardent scents, and blush dew
Outcropping of pleasure around and through
Bring forth a curtain of rare verdant trees
Audience veil, ardent scent, and blush dew
Peering out heavens trickle summer seas
Bring forth a curtain of rare verdant trees
The lip-sharing math
Peering out heavens trickle summer seas
The petal-sprinkled path
7/7/2017
COLLABORATION with Probir Gupta
Poetry Contest: COLLABORATION CONTEST
Sponsored by: JAN ALLISON
Firecracker - a paper or cardboard cylinder filled with an explosive and having a fuse, for discharging to make a noise.
Firethe Southern sergeant shouts to the boys behind him
In unison, we live or die together, light the fuse. The enemy
Rises up from behind a rocky outcropping
Effectively blocking the allied advance. Shrapnel
Crescendos from the jeeps in the rear, cutting down
Riflemen not killed instantly by the attack.
Another night passes, nightmares replay the
Carnage of a war un-won, I see the bodies of friends
Killed in the name of God. Every dead man
Earnestly left life not knowing if
Right was truly in their
Side.
High amongst the mountain peaks,
Stands a gnarled old tree.
Clinging desperately to the rocky cliff,
It is the only one to see.
How many years long past,
Has the tree tried to live,
On that rocky outcropping,
The mountain would grudgingly give.
Into the ancient cracks of the mountainside,
The tree’s roots desperately cling,
Barely covered in the little soil,
That the airs could barely bring.
For countless ages has it borne,
The wraths of wind, ice, and snow.
Reduced to a contorted pose,
The tree continues to grow.
Half dead in the summer it is,
From the eternal lack of rain.
Still, when the snows do melt,
It tries to grow again.
How many years more will it be,
Before the tree is finally slain,
And standing there forevermore,
Its withered shell shall remain.
I'm scrapin' the marrow
I'm scrapin' the marrow from the
splintered bones of my last hero
Sustenance
Flecks of sustenance as I cower
Cower under this shelf
This outcropping of old white guy
Trepidatiously I peer out at a
Skynet world
Shadow governments
Shady leaders
Populations being winnowed
Pared back by progress
There was a time (and I remember this time) when it was said "Man will never walk on the Moon"
And now when it is said "Worldwide famine is impossible"
I ain't so sure
Weavin'
Weavin' the sinew of my last hero
Weavin' a cord
A sling cord
Need a pouch
Here's one
Need stones
Here's two
A guy once told me "You have to give a bit of yourself to the effort"
I understand that now as I sip from the skull top cup
of
my last hero
Cold breeze cutting to the bone
as pitter patter of sleet hit leaves.
Squirrels running around gathering acorns
blue jays, sparrows, juncos
flying tree to tree.
Fountain spraying free
in the lake
as I walk at its side.
Leaves in winter array
lay on the ground
crunching under my stride.
Flakes of white
begin to fly from above
as I round the bend.
Rocky outcropping covered with ice
as go through the valley
my mind floats free
with joy and peace.
Cold wind swaying mighty trees
side to side
in their naked array.
Senses are aware of a cavernousness,
And of a stillness almost quietley abrupt..!
softness of light & air surround all,
deft as breath as from a doves wing reposing
billows of liquid descending are as grains,
the seeds of an "almost raining"
A lowering of horizion encompasses,
Valley, ridge, and outcropping crag's
the listening atmosphere waits...
breathless as soil is enriching
Close by mammals disturb the folds of fallen bracken,
with bursts of muffled sound, as hand in hand lovers stroll around
Poem by Joe Maverick copyright 27 9 2011
This poem is for Michael J. Falotico's falling in love in the fall contest:)
a lonely tower
on a rocky outcropping
gold light pierces fog
sailors raise a mug
aboard the once doomed ship
all mainsails unfurl
Contest: In the Light of haiku
Poet: D. Guzzi
A lone man
Standing in a cold rock outcropping
Rain soaks him to the skin
He laments the world’s troubles
War, famine, disease and poverty
His soul feels the pain of everyone around him
A black oboe touches his lips
Playing a sad refrain
One that echoes through the valley below
Each note carries a woe
Away from him and into the world around
Into the clouds that float above
Taking them into the beauty of a rainbow
Thousands of people flock to the hill
Just to listen to this single man
His songs lift their spirits
For a moment
One brief moment
His songs allow them to smile
And for the moment
They are happy
All because of a lone oboist
Standing on a rock
Soaked by the spring rain
I look into the valley
A shroud of mist hides its beauty
Pale and gray it hangs below me
The sun has yet to reach down from its heights
I know there is life there
There is the smell of a million flowers
Floating on cool breezes
Cooled by a shallow blue/green pond
Rising from the distant floor
The sounds of chirping birds
Chicks crying for food from their mothers
Hawks scream while they look for food
Flying high above the valley’s sides
They echo from stony walls covered with ancient vines
The only sounds on a tranquil spring day
The mist breaks for just second
Leaving a trail of swirls and eddies
As a spotted fawn runs across the dewy grass
The sun rises dissolving the morning’s veil
The animals hide
The birds nest to raise their young
The beauty of the valley is still there
But the magic that was hidden by the fog
The illusion of that peaceful world
The melodic song of the valley’s life
Burns away in the sun’s bright glare
Maybe tomorrow morning before the sun rises
I will again stand on this rocky outcropping
I will see the veiled world
And the magic will be there again
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