Spelunking Poems - Poems about Spelunking

I went in not feeling much excitement. Further into the cave I did venture. Claustrophobia robs my enjoyment ...

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Melting by Michael R. Burch Entirely, as spring consumes the snow, the thought of you consumes me: I am found in rivulets, dissolved to what I know of former winters’ passions. Underground, perhaps one slender icicle remains of what I was before, in some dark cave— a stalactite, long calcified, now drains to sodden pools whose milky liquid laves the colder rock, thus washing something...

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standing before me more a sink hole or an orifice of sorts reportedly to be tightly deep that was what i came for more then explore but to but heads with that which was said to be a new door toward a natural expression of a depression of one that one might want again and more so dropping a plum line of weight so waiting to tell how deep was this well while sweat beading my forehead said though tight to fit it was well worth the worth of this and so slowly entered descending...

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upon entering the cave space the air became strangely warmer heavy wetness created a single stalactite thickly dripping down naturally the deeper i sunk it seemed dank and darker with only a head lamp the room dampened and divided i decided just then a trembling tremor turned me around but knew i would come back again and again and again...

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lets double check our gear heavy duty helmet topped with a light an underneath chin strap as well as a body harness check at least fifty yards of rope with ten pitons each and as many carabiners comfortable for one to carry check now gather round and take a look at where we're hoping to climb and yes i know we are known as spelunkers but this is more an orifice trip it seems...

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I find myself in a dark barren place where sweaty palms now attest to my fear. And with every beat, my heart starts to race for I can’t see how to get out of here. Seeking out artifacts from ancient graves I sift myth from saga, as I explore. And I’ve a proclivity for dank caves where my temerity’s trapped me...

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Red Rock Canyon, Nevada; 106 Degrees The Sun so HOT it could Freeze; the Breeze I help HER with HER Equipment, she helps with mine I am the First to Enter: Slowly; I see in HER Eyes, Hesitation BABY there are no "BATS"! the Desert; for them has no Design WE enter Together : The Moist Heat of the Entrance,...

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