Short Foothills Poems

Poetic sunrise
in the idyllic foothills
tinges sleepy town.
...

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Too many yellow
Each foothills of Canada
Reflect glass window....

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glace mountain tops amidst heather'y foothills --pepper icy squalls


February 19, 2016
...

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Reflections

Green trees and foothills
Blue reflections wake the lake.
Under royal skies.

© Dane Smith-Johnsen
April 15, 2010...

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expansive foothills
at the entrance
to Heaven
here on Earth
unlock
her gates
narrow alleyways
the arteries
rushing to
Jerusalem's
pulsating
heart...

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From high heavens and hills,
Rivers fall from their frills,
To give green sprouts of hope,
Kiss of life to foothills! 
_________________________
Epigram |11.06.2021|...

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Ridged peaks, rolling foothills
reach over our region,
rest under snow blankets,
recover from roiling,
raging summer wildfires.
Reeling smoke will only
return with a vengeance.



Pleiades R contest
Sponsor: Kim Merryman...

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Snow forecast in the mountain foothills,
clouds are swiftly blowing in,
white geese are flying low.

over harvested fields
searching for a safe landing 
away from the wildness of the dark storm.


Kimo with reverse kimo...

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Through the wind
and heat
he answered
the shrill call,
jumping 
onto a red robin
firetruck
fast as light....
with ear piercing
sirens
a bright motion
of urgency
climbing the foothills
just to quench
the enemy 
of an ocean
of wild flames....

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"Where are we?
I don't know, looks like the foothills.
The foothills of what?
The foothills of the head lands."
                                         The Beatles Movie The Yellow submarine


So many feet has covered this small hill,
but the young heads keep making;
playing till age is death....

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Take unhurried steps into the foothills
And get enlightened by the untainted zephyr and pristine snow
Never mind the smell of the soil on you, as it is the scent of the nature
With ballads, awake the spirit of the fire that light up and warms the night
And collect jar of memories that could be adored for lifetime...

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I find myself at times in my life,
at a turning point- which way do I go?
and I always returned to the foothills 
Searching for an inkling of a feeling of home
Long after the farm had been foreclosed on
Sad, as I watch the cattle now in the pasture- 
where my Dad and granpas markers and ashes lay
~ashes to ashes dust to dust~...

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Nana Niai
tide in high sea
climbed to Himalaya

Nana Niai
my remote sense in play
Nana 
conquered thunder 
Mastered in silence

Nana Niai
wild flower drips and drips
foothills of forests
Nana
cradles times in tame 

Nana Niai
tundra is my escape
reach to cloud in top
Nana
danced with whales
As reach the top cloud

Nana Niai
Rest my body
Nihai...

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A million battered steps.
Smiles rimmed with fire and pyrite.
Ninety proof clarity in the foothills of blissfulness.
Clouded mountains topped with defeats.
It's all in the script and the author is me.

Nearing the finish, there it sits. 
The greatest wall- icy indifference.
What lies on the other side of this life? 
That same pyrite and fiery sea.
it's all in the script and the author is me....

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The snow now caresses,
this peaceful land.
Like the sea of tranquility,
so majestic and grand.

It cascades to the foothills,
and down to the sea.
This gift of beauty,
for all to see.

It blankets the flowers,
so in the spring they may grow.
The tulips and lilies,
hide beneath its glow.

The oak and the birch,
shall plan their seed.
The snow will nourish,
all that grows in the spring....

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Where does the wind come from?
From the east,
Or from the west?
From Ireland,
Or from Poland ?
From the sky,
Or from the heaven high?
From the downhills,
Or from the foothills?

None of us really know,
Where it comes from and where does it go.
It flies as fast as it can,
Even if I ran,
I don’t think I could ever make it mine..

Now can someone tell me!
Where does the wind actually come from?...

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In the foothills of the Ozarks Arkansas
 Those mountains a calling, come and play the game
   From prison came Joe to see his ailing pa
    Furloughed from prison won notorious fame

    Frances met him  in their secret rendezvous
  Sweet blonde Frances Standridge, eyes of baby blue
 Her lover the sly fox of Chigger hollow
Taught her teenage virtue a newfound shallow 

For and in Honor of Dr Rams Contest...

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While Climbing the Rocks

Through trees and rains and 
Lakes I have lived, but today I shall remember,
Remember the child who climbed rock mountains,
Shutting out the city sounds and,
Music of wind cuddling foothills and dreams.
Dreams of a log cabin and dreams of love,
With someone to share the quiet of the dove;
Puttering with pursuits, watching horned toads play,
On the side of a mountain looking away....

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I went up river in a canoe.
I had no paddles. I was all thumbs.
I scuttled her in the foothills; 
the valley air chokes me.

I tried to drown but was too
resilient. I foraged for food.
I made water from jumble ice
in my seasoned stygian skillet.

I tried to sleep through it all
but became resistive to the valerian
root. I’m no Rip Van Winkle.
I’ve lived this way for 1,080 days. . .

I live this way still. . ....

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Whether it be foreign country or terrorists that attack our land,
I will fight them on the beaches on the streets and from my home.
If necessary I will retreat to the foothills and then to the mountains,
Still I will never raise white flag to those who would steal my freedom.

AS GOD IS MY WITNESS!!

I SHALL NEVER SURRENDER!!

Having been a knight on ancient past battlefields,
This soldier knows no fear of any enemy!!...

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Your
flight
lit
trees like lampblack ocean petals
patterns
ripping trapping
Me
this petrified me
he said
and you agreed
Lights
winged torches in the terracotta foothills like
like some seas paddled
like arc eyes
peepers
spilling downy scales
You are asphalt
he said
and you laughed
not with him at him
You are a turkey
you said
treading
darkly
and smiling his frog smile

Birds of a
feather
...

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exhaustion has so many layers: 
when devils settle into joints
naps turn into marathon affairs
concentration gaps run rampant
remnants of zest circle the drain

perhaps due to feral disease
or a brief rash of boredom 
or just a blot of burr and blues
more likely the foothills of old age

for certain youth has blown away
dreams blinded in the dry grass of life
just ahead -up a steep granite pass
something feral, heavy hooved-sniffing...

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30 below 

thinking about that homeless man
as i caress a cup of 
designer coffee

on every pane of glass snowflake i see his frozen face
as vanilla creamer slides down my throat

saw that homeless man
three days in a row
a snowman nesting on the same corner
but I never invited him home
for a bit of warmth
to hear his forgotten story
 
karma is barking at the foothills of my soul
"you may be homeless someday
homeless
cold
forgotten."...

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You may never see one laugh
Though you may sometimes'
See one cry
If it is a rush to Evil
Then they can be so very shy,
Yes, if there is cause for testimony
He will only lie
He will head for the foothills'
Till another victim come's by
To the detriment of the
Fallen truth of the truthful
He can seduce you with
His evil with-in a song, song
He will string you along
Fore he can sell you with a song
While he makes' you a true believer
As you surly sing along

GF...

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Save Yourself



Am I coming to my senses
From feelings far away
To a true home so new
Where influences dispenses
A new morning view
Even if the sun is overcast today
The shadows show the way
That I don’t want to go


The low, or high road
Peak, or valley, where I tread
The spotlight shows my scars as conviction
But my darkest hours never glowed
Until long after the affliction
Far from the foothills where I bled
Hoping that the stains are read
And the shell be shed for someone else...

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