Short Hikers Poems

ever-taxing trail
a sense of isolation
ambitious hikers...

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A long and winding 
way through the woods is followed 
by many hikers....

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the carry back pack
thats  stack
with  there picks nd rack
bags for a shack
food  sack
some also biker
those
HIKERS...

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they like the top
some hop
a lot
from a back pack
thats  fill with stacks
and  rack
some or bikers
they are
BIKERS...

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we're  mill
don't sit still
no jill pill
we climb hills
no matter how tall
we make that wall
also we're biker
they call
us
HIKERS...

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Please stay on path
Signs we hath posted
Our wrath on violators!

written January 19, 2022
[modified syllable count]...

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spring rain
on valley floor
flash flood
 ****
rain storm
up on the mountains
hikers descend
 ****
barren tree
a squirrel on branch
hawk circles

03/03/17...

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Shadow me not,

for in my light you will disappear,

Take up your own rein,

disperse with your speak,

dwell not,

My warning take heed,

your rhetoric is plagued,

hitch hikers, decline their thumb.

Your words know their own way home....

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Time. Marches on;
tasting the blood of hikers,
   who would not-
   reach the summit.

          *

   Red clover.
I walk under the black
   moon to light-
     the fire.

           *

   Meet me
sometime,in the half way
   house, I have forgotten
     my name.


Satish Verma...

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medieval soil
never forgotten 
by the hikers upon the mountain
there is a chance to hear a voice 
coming from the back of your head

footsteps left on the muddy ground
imprinted by each stone of your flesh

harsh words 
like a summer light
turned into unarmed reflections
naked like you...

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Her visit is bright!
It brings life and warmth. Butterflies, surfers, children, hikers,
and bungee jumpers celebrate her coming. Fireworks, fireflies, and balloons
of different colors in the air, are visible to see. We hope that she is here to stay, but Autumn is sure to show her the door again.


Date: 05/01/2015...

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Trek poles wending
Peak ascending
Trail keeps bending
Effort spending
Gnats offending

Stormclouds rending
Cool rain sending
Flowers tending
Clean air lending
Sunshine trending

Now descending
Hikers blending
Smiles attending
All befriending
Hike soon ending

Sleep descending
Sweet dreams sending
Muscles mending
Smiles unending
Next hike? Pending!...

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Autumn and bygone memories,
bare cornfields,  luscious heaths,
where tracks zigzag to vales
as hikers' joy blooms.
The green ferns thrive 
from recent downpours;
goats graze before the winter blasts
and hay-laden carts amble by.
Here and there old farms dot 
the countryside, smoke silently
curling slowly out of blackened chimneys.
Oh how I yearn for my past childhood....

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Quickly the hikers rest with a freshly built                         ----------CAMPFIRE 
One of them flips out his ancient cast iron                         -------- PAN
Soon, fresh smells permeate the woods, something is       --------- FRYING
Having trekked and snacked on dates and raisins, so        ---------- TASTY
Smiles now appear  as they now sample  			    --------- BACON...

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Rocky trail
Fallen trees
Fresh scent of pine leaves

Scattered acorns
Wild blooms
Thundering sounds of a graceful brook

Brightly red 
Cylindrical Snow flowers
Show-stoppers for enthusiastic hikers

Chirpy Jays
Traces of wild foxes
Immensity of rocky mainstays 

Spring storm
Shivery gales
Sprays of tiny snowflakes

Wood bridge
Nimble stream
Magic of a mountain climb...

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A hundred miles North of here,
there are lonely shy sasquatch's
elderly crypto beasts
that roam the small woods
between gray urban sprawls.

I'm told they live on picnic snacks
discarded by occasional 
slow-walking hikers.
Corn nachos, cheesy puffs, 
the odd half-eaten egg sandwich.

It breaks my heart to hear
that they have no medical care,
nor any meds to take
when they get a tummy ache....

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Through sheer impulse, I was entranced 
By the beauty of rare mollusks in varied designs
Ready to be plucked , the evening my witness
When I gathered all that I had found.

A bothered conscience nailed on and on,
How could I have hurt nature which I adore?
As reparation for this lapse, I sent  hikers daily
this card, " I'm sorry for picking what's not mine."



Lin Lane's Contest: It's Time To 'Fess Up
16th February 2016...

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Passenger seat travel
 is boring, boring. boring
 Pencil and paper
 occupies time, hands
 and  mind.
	
 Put pen to paper,
 record the unusual.

 Humorous signs
 ugly buildings
 hawks in treetops
 crows feasting on road-kill
 broken, abandoned cars
 hitch-hikers
 roadside stands

 when suddenly
 breathtaking scene
 gone in a flash
 speaks eloquently
 of the Master’s touch
 and lingers for miles.

© Cona Faye Adams 7/18/2016...

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Drifted deep in wintry dark 
she's in decline, as useless 
as a sailboat in a storm.
Once a haven for hikers, 
a shelter for stalwarts and strays
'til the mountains gave summons;
now forlorn and disregarded, 
like a maiden aunt too old and to no purpose, 
though winsome in her former days
when she was quite the prize, 
the belle of every ball, envied by all. 
"If those walls could only speak!" they say,
as they quickly pass on by,
not giving her a second glance....

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Drifted deep in wintry dark 
she's in decline, as useless 
as a sailboat in a hurricane.
Once a haven for hikers, 
a shelter for stalwarts and strays
'til the mountain gave summons,
now forlorn and disregarded, 
like a maiden aunt, too old and without purpose, 
though winsome in her former days
when she was quite the prize, 
the belle of every ball, envied by all. 
"If those walls could speak!" they say,
as the hikers pass her by,
never offering a second glance....

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Home is in the village then?
A stranger queried of when:
We met on a roadside bend.
Two men walking, who did tend,
To chance on becoming friends.

Visiting from the South you say?
Headed over yonder way?
Let me tell you of this place.
Over there lives Lady Grace.
We move on at quickened pace.

Hikers on a country road,
Seeking neither food nor gold.
This journeys wealth did unfold,
In the tales that we’ve since told.
Old friends who met on a road:...

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Drifted deep in wintry dark 
she's in decline, as useless 
as a sailboat in a storm.
Once a haven for hikers, 
a shelter for stalwarts and strays
'til the mountains gave summons;
now forlorn and disregarded, 
like a maiden aunt too old and to no purpose, 
though winsome in her former days
when she was quite the prize, 
the belle of every ball, envied by all. 
"If those walls could only speak!" they say,
as they quickly pass on by,
not giving her a second glance....

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Drifted deep in wintry dark 
she's in decline, as useless 
as a sailboat in a storm.
Once a haven for hikers, 
a shelter for stalwarts and strays
'til the mountains gave summons;
now forlorn and disregarded, 
like a maiden aunt too old and to no purpose, 
though winsome in her former days
when she was quite the prize, 
the belle of every ball, envied by all. 
"If those walls could only speak!" they say,
as they quickly pass on by,
not giving her a second glance....

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Drifted deep in wintry dark 
she's in decline, as useless 
as a sailboat in a storm.
Once a haven for hikers, 
a shelter for stalwarts and strays
'til the mountains gave summons;
now forlorn and disregarded, 
like a maiden aunt too old and to no purpose, 
though winsome in her former days
when she was quite the prize, 
the belle of every ball, envied by all. 
"If those walls could only speak," they say,
as they quickly pass on by,
not giving her a second glance....

Read More

Drifted deep in wintry dark 
she's in decline, as useless 
as a sailboat in a storm.
Once a haven for hikers, 
a shelter for stalwarts and strays
'til the mountains gave summons;
now forlorn and disregarded, 
like a maiden aunt too old and to no purpose, 
though winsome in her former days
when she was quite the prize, 
the belle of every ball, envied by all. 
"If those walls could only speak!" they say,
as they quickly pass on by,
not giving her a second glance....

Read More