when pleasant pursuit
of what was a lot of loot
while rapids would shoot
There once was a man from Mozambique
Who went canoeing most every week
A white water battle
Cost him vest and paddle
Now he's really up the freakin' creek
Rapids Ahead
I hear the canyon echo the cascading eddies’ volume,
Growing louder as I paddle closer to run the descent,
To enter the lake past water, hidden rocks, and seething foam,
While an eagle soaring the gorge shrieks an impending portent.
The walls are too steep for portaging the cataract in front,
So either I seek another route or forge on straight ahead.
To challenge destiny bewilders the passive goer’s want
When serenity in life is a more secure goal instead.
Cannot the way be more perilous when fate meets its limits?
I glide my canoe between the boulders, avoiding the onslaught
Of being ripped to shreds when thrown about in the driving rapids;
I break, turn with the oar this way and that and never ease off!
Then my fear subsides when the waters calm as I ride the crest;
I’ve come this far and have further to go before I can rest.
6/9/23
I walk to clear my troubled mind,
To drown the sound of ticking clocks
That beat with worry in my ear.
A running river won't rewind,
And time bestows a gift that mocks,
We can't relive the past we wear.
But in the current’s rage, I find,
As rushing waves wash over rocks
Who stand their ground as they're stripped clear.
I'll send what can't be left behind,
When cleansing water strips and knocks
Into the river, all my fear.
And with their run, I'll soon be free
For both shall die when met by sea.
Trilonnet Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
Image #2
athletic type at the front
wings of a splash, quite a slap
it’s a bother to breathe, but
he might catch a fish
Well within the city limits mysteries
Suburban people to the core escape
Into a wilderness of houses bunched together
Outside town, outside the reaches of police
In giant vehicles much bigger
Much larger than ordinary cars
Good citizens leave congested streets
For the homogenization of milk and mind
Between the city and the farm is space
More peace, less crime generated
Suited for new life to grow
Suburban is the only language spoken
Within the boundaries of God
A new born bunny moves about
Inside a tiny cardboard box it dwells
Inside a new construction site discovered
If not it must be a house, like so many others
Baby bunny must be a gift from mom and dad
Christmas starts in November this time of year
If we pray real hard under the covers
With due diligence as children do
Perhaps Christmas will come in June
A new born baby brother would be nice
But an SUV will do and will suffice
My boy and I hung over the Elk Rapids dam railing
Shirtless
With lines swung in the churning water
The iron hum of turbines rattling through our elbows
He lands a nice Crappie
And as he rescues the bass
He looks not at his dad
Or the helpless fish staring up in horror
But watches to see if the old stern man
Fishing on the other end of the dam
Cigar crowbarred to the crease of his mouth
Might take a look
But no
He doesn’t as much glance over
To see the catch by my long-haired CEO
With his 20,000 Instagram followers
And when we step past the guy
And over his pole and tackle box
Not even then
Does he grunt nice fish nor nod good day
His leeches keeps him free of snags
That much is true of his local secrets
But we used worms and had a big day.
river rapids roar
like angry lions in summer
suicidal thoughts
[awakened in the middle of the night, May 20, 2021]
this was the spot
where we’d come
i’d shoot photos of
the golden glitter
as waves ran down
the river bank
this was the spot
where we’d come
we’d just sit and
watch the sun as it set
we were together
seemed we hadn’t
a care in the world
this was the spot
where we’d come
so again today
the sun faithful
is at the rendezvous
but this time
with family and friends
gathered
by the river of life
with heavy hearts
we bid you fond farewell
this was the spot
where we’d come
goodbye, my love
goodbye
Read on air by invitation ~ April 14, 2021 'WORDS & MUSIC'
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Posted on December 3, 2020
Rapids of the mind,
moving at a furious pace
as if there is no time to waste.
A boat with oars...
a raving raft…
on all fours.
In my dry suit, flapping like a seal.
No way on earth I head for shore
where there be bears.
I flop back into the boat,
pulled in by the hucksters
who mock,
they think this is a joke
whereas I shake, terrified.
Are there bears in the boat?
Are they dressed up like folks?
Might they tear me asunder?
Mighty thunder rolls the boat.
Who do they think is in charge?
It’s not me nor they,
but the Superstar.
He always knows the way.
They say, “Yes, sir, Captain, sir,”
and row us to the peaceful shore.
8/2/2020
It had been years since the seasons changed
Then the Monarch butterflies
Shook from a blue sky in July
Like a box of colored confetti
Re-appeared a miracle atop the sticky meadows
And the day before was so hot
That on my morning walk
I found tree frogs glued to the pavement
In mid-hop
Paralyzed with eyes looking up
Clay knickknacks belonging to a shelf
In an Elk Rapids gift shop
People around here are buried in their graves
Sitting up
To stare out forever upon Torch Lake
Tombstones angled against the hills
Last ever to see
The blue of this Earth
The lake of sunsets
The mirror that shows us all
Who we turned out to be.
Where a year seems like an eternity to you
getting through to tomorrow is progress
Never have such words rang so true
You were a paddle less canoe
Caught in the rapids under stress
Where a year seems like an eternity to you
Day after day you have to come through
Fighting the white water with finesse
Getting through to tomorrow is progress
Rapids after rapids come into view
A mind in turmoil the waves caress
Where a year seems like an eternity to you
That inner strength you must renew
the doubting mind may cause distress
Getting through to tomorrow is progress
Subdue your fears your dreams pursue
Reassess your future those dreams you repossess
Where a year seems like an eternity to you
Getting through to tomorrow is progress
in gurgling rapids
salmon jumping ladders
while grizzlies feast
AP: 3rd place 2022
Submitted on April 17, 2018 for contest HAIKU: FISH sponsored by MICK TALBOT
A river runs
And rapids rose washing debris
Lawn's raking done
The outpour
spouts gently. My lone thoughts
drain bitterly as pearly chutes ebb
Soft patter
of rapids flushes night
from angst. Though barren stream dives endless
And pierced rocks
lash at my lost chances.
The twirl of water eases love's blow
While I dive
into an evening's pool
like a rapid swollen by gray spills.
For nette onclaud
Manny Paras dated 10 30 2014
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