There are Springs so divine as to make one sing.
And there are Springs that warmly embrace queens and kings.
There's pure joy in watching the slow snow-melts of Mid-West Springs.
It's exhilarating in the Spring to see the rushing rapids from The High Sierras.
But there is sadness as tornadoes ripe through those Southern Springs.
I don't understand it all, but I will always be a lover of Spring and Fall.
Also, even though filled with adversity, Spring always rises to life universally.
Of late, there is much debate about 'Climate Change' and dramatic swings.
Some Springs have to wait in line until the Winter takes wings,
which might not happen until she's had her fill of cold bites and stings,
or until Winter ceases hiding behind deceptive clouds of ice, hale, and snow.
And sometimes Spring pitches a fit and demands Winter to pack up and go.
042522PSCtest, Spring Rhyme-8-12 Lines, Tania Kitchin
Categories:
sierras, spring,
Form: Rhyme
Her desires made it begin
His eyes kiss then let her in
The rumors to guide the sins
Not stressed of what's within
She was'nt looking for a friend
Categories:
sierras, age, allusion, anniversary, appreciation,
Form: Ballad
The Highlander
From the sierras of Peru to the land of promise he came
as a student of life to learn but not for fame
but to absorb the thoughts of the American mind
and giving of his own in kind He took me as a friend
and always gave without regard
Even when his times were hard although he never showed it.
His knowledge and warmth has left a burning light
to brighten the path for all to see the breadth of his sincerity
What do children, parents ,best friend mean to you Contest
Sponsored by Jeff Cantor
May 19, 2018
Categories:
sierras, friend,
Form: Free verse
Widowed Dad zested for life,
Every day new adventures:
Hiking in the Sierras,
Naked white-water rafting,
Hours of gambling in Tahoe,
Dates with beautiful women...
Then married his best friend, Mike.
Categories:
sierras, life, self, truth,
Form: Verse
It is something
I've never feared,
I was born to fly.
Born to see cloud shadows
on the ground and the sugar sprinkles
of snow along a ridge,
leading to
the frosting clad Shasta.
Born to see the meandering
snow melt rivers descending
into checkerboard farm lands,
and the straight course
of the plane's shadow
paralleling tiny highways
towards home.
Born to do this forever,
if I could,
in and out of cotton clouds,
towards the tops
of distant thunderheads
along the Sierras,
plunging down
to sudden showers on
small town's streets.
Like my Greek ancestor I would fly
high enough to bronze my skin
and dive,
into Pacific waters with
a blacksmith's sizzle!
I was born to fly,
and if I could,
I would hijack this plane
with all of it's cringing travelers.
I would take them on such a ride,
that they could never go back
to a normal life again.
We would have arguments over
whose turn it was to fly the plane,
this time,
and resolve them with endless games
paper, stone and scissors.
Categories:
sierras, allegory,
Form: Free verse
Tufts of ghostly cotton candy,
Backlit by lavender sage,
Caught in rocky nooks and
crannies,
Sky islands of stage.
Sugar whipped and frothy,
Clouds of pink and blue,
Melting in the moisture,
Disappearing with the dew.
Sticky light, fluffy grains,
Momentary treat,
Saccharin violet bliss,
Diabetic feat.
Rock candy gossamer, air-
whipped, spun,
Majesty's paper cone,
Rainbow sprinkles of
precipitation,
Air and water and stone.
Xylose billows, sucrose puffs,
Mouthwatering bits of sky,
Trapped by sierras, amethyst,
Until they melt, die.
Categories:
sierras, storm
Form: ABC
A unique vision through the camera lens,
Portraits of nature in black and white.
Letting the beauty of contrast speak.
The California Coastline, the Sierras,
The Southwest..all in the starkest outline.
And Yosemite, whose grandeur he loved best.
A life spent capturing these wonders
Letting his work inspire; an incentive
To protect these treasures for all our tomorrows.
For a look at his work to to:
www.anseladams.com
Categories:
sierras, art, dedication, inspirationalwork, work,
Form: Free verse
Last winter he wandered away to the west
wearing a black hat ,a suit and a vest,
he practiced his shooting till he had it honed
he put a hair trigger on all that he owned.
He had to find Jagger ,a wolf of a man,
to bring him back down he would tackle his clan
A rough pack of owlhoots who hid out in caves,
up in the Sierras where only God saves.
He followed the trail of pillage and pain,
till he came in sight of the cave in the rain.
The rustlers were loaded with liquor and guns
fighting and laughing and having some fun.
He went in there blasting his pistols on fire,
he killed every man with a vengeance most dire,
The only one left when the smoke cleared away,
was Jagger who snarled"who are you anyway?"
The cowboy in black tipped his hat with a smile
It's your own son he said....
Now you're going to trial.
You left us to die on the trail in the past,
but somehow I lived and I swore to the last,
I'd find you and bring you back home to pay
for killing my Ma and now this is the day!
Categories:
sierras, adventure, boy,
Form: Cowboy Poetry