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mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Nov 26, 2012 - 05:11pm PT
The legislator's rule of thumb! ha-ha! heehee!

A 'haha' is a fence set in a ditch (Scrabble dictionary).

And they don't make no mo Ho-Hos.

Part of the Hole Mouse Story:

He made his way into the Ditch, down the south bank, then under the NPS haha made of withies, vines and sticks. It was laughable how easy it was. "Ha-ha," he laught to his left mouse, while his inner mouse was most hopeful. Heeding his instincts now, he followed the Ditch for some ways before he climbed out the north bank near Turtle Dome. He would find that left thunb in Thuolumbne Meadows eventually. Or one like it. Tome thumb things are just not too important, except it had to be a left. Color, length, strength, none of those mattered to him. He just wanted to play his guitar like a normal guy. Gladly, badly, radly, it didn't matter. As long as he could bar the frets!

Not to worry, this story is never-ending, too.

Pottery in prose is the next subject. Shards of shreds of shucked simile lend distinct grace to your text, a must-see for musetry lovers.

eKat

Trad climber
BackInTheDitch BackInTheDirt BackInTheDay
Nov 26, 2012 - 05:30pm PT
Summer

Got away from me
Long times away
Once the snow started falling
It went away
Summer is back
Chasing me to a place that should be covered with snow
Winter light falling on late summer landscape
May prove to be the weirdest thing, ever
Fletcher

Trad climber
The rock doesn't care what I think
Dec 15, 2012 - 02:00pm PT
Wish I didn't feel inspired to post this today. But it needs to be out there.

Eric

Dirge without Music

Edna St. Vincent Millay

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.
Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, --- but the best is lost.

The answers quick & keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,
They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Dec 15, 2012 - 06:52pm PT
On a much lighter note
Richard Wilbur poetry and art or art and poetry.
Richard Wilbur poetry and art or art and poetry.
Credit: mouse from merced

I dance my fool head off to entertain people and to educate people, most of whom can barely bring themselves to notice

Who live in the cross-hairs, always on the brink, addicted to both the bottom line and the summit

Can't go a day without chasing power, humbling or being humbled.

Why do I dance for them?

What choice do I have?

You either dance for them

Or become one of them.

--Jules Feiffer, 1999

Credit: mouse from merced

mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Dec 16, 2012 - 04:17pm PT
EPITAPH

Having lived long in time,
he lives now in timelessness
without sorrow, made perfect
by our never finished love,
by our compassion and forgiveness,
and by his happiness in receiving
these gifts we give. Here in time
we are added to one another forever.

--Wendell Berry
Fletcher

Trad climber
The great state of advaita
Jan 2, 2013 - 08:55pm PT
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection:
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is lead forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action —
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

~ Rabindranath Tagore ~
Fletcher

Trad climber
The great state of advaita
Jan 2, 2013 - 08:56pm PT
Fire Maples and Epitaph... very good Mouse and DT!

Eric
Fletcher

Trad climber
The great state of advaita
Jan 3, 2013 - 09:02pm PT
For Presence

Awaken to the mystery of being here
and enter the quiet immensity of your own presence.

Have joy and peace in the temple of your senses.

Receive encouragement when new frontiers beckon.

Respond to the call of your gift and the courage to
follow its path.

Let the flame of anger free you of all falsity.

May warmth of heart keep your presence aflame.

May anxiety never linger about you.

May your outer dignity mirror an inner dignity of
soul.

Take time to celebrate the quiet miracles that seek
no attention.

Be consoled in the secret symmetry of your soul.

May you experience each day as a sacred gift woven
around the heart of wonder.

~ John O'Donohue ~

(To Bless the Space Between Us)
Fossil climber

Trad climber
Atlin, B. C.
Jan 3, 2013 - 09:42pm PT
Does doggerel qualify? I rather enjoy Ogden Nash.
Fletcher

Trad climber
The great state of advaita
Jan 6, 2013 - 07:31pm PT
Not quite poetry, but.... ahhhhh all Rumi is poetry. What was I thinking?

“Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment.”

Should be the official taco motto!

Eric
Anastasia

climber
InLOVEwithAris.
Jan 6, 2013 - 07:58pm PT

wash his sheets
and wipe him clean
and in his misery
I reach for the better
to nurse and to heal

I'll take it all
through the sleepless nights
the rough days
into a better tomorrow

tomorrow you will feel better
my sick and weary child
tomorrow will be your day

today let us heal
for all the tomorrows

when you won't need me
when you will rarely see me
I'll gladly take them
for all the good tomorrows
that will be there
for you my child
for you









mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Jan 6, 2013 - 08:27pm PT
Anstasia, how mellow a mom you are. I think "yer in" to something good.
Today's the feast of the Epiphany, BTW.

Epiphany - acrostic
by Grey Mouser

Energy cascades within synapses of thoughts
Pure and shining whispers of unclear attention
Instances of measured words that disappear
Purpose riddled spectacles of transition
Hemorrhaging conceptual perceptions
Avalanche of meaning brilliantly surmised
Noesis clear to sparkling realization
Yellow has become the color of love

Author notes
Noesis - the psychological result of perception and learning and reasoning
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Jan 11, 2013 - 10:16am PT

Leonard Cohen
God Is Alive, Magic Is Afoot lyrics

Lyrics: Cohen/Recorded By Buffy Sainte-Marie

God is alive, magic is afoot
God is alive, magic is afoot
God is alive, magic is afoot
God is afoot, magic is alive
Alive is afoot, magic never died
God never sickened
Many poor men lied
Many sick men lied
Magic never weakened
Magic never hid
Magic always ruled
God is afoot, God never died
God was ruler
Though his funeral lengthened
Though his mourners thickened
Magic never fled
Though his shrouds were hoisted
The naked God did live
Though his words were twisted
The naked magic thrived
Though his death was published
Round and round the world
The heart did not believe

Many hurt men wondered
Many struck men bled
Magic never faltered
Magic always lead
Many stones were rolled
But God would not lie down
Many wild men lied
Many fat men listened
Though they offered stones
Magic still was fed
Though they locked their coffers
God was always served
Magic is afoot, God is alive
Alive is afoot

Alive is in command
Many weak men hungered
Many strong men thrived
Though they boast of solitude
God was at their side
Nor the dreamer in his cell
Nor the captain on the hill
Magic is alive
Though his death was pardoned
Round and round the world
The heart would not believe

Though laws were carved in marble
They could not shelter men
Though altars built in parliaments
They could not order men
Police arrested magic and magic went with them
Mmmmm.... for magic loves the hungry
But magic would not tarry
It moves from arm to arm
It would not stay with them
Magic is afoot
It cannot come to harm
It rests in an empty palm
It spawns in an empty mind
But magic is no instrument
Magic is the end
Many men drove magic
But magic stayed behind
Many strong men lied
They only passed through magic
And out the other side
Many weak men lied
They came to God in secret
And though they left Him nourished
They would not tell who healed
Though mountains danced before them
They said that God was dead
Though his shrouds were hoisted
The naked God did live
This I mean to whisper to my mind
This I mean to laugh within my mind
This I mean my mind to serve
Til' service is but magic
Moving through the world
And mind itself is magic
Coursing through the flesh
And flesh itself is magic
Dancing on a clock
And time itself
The magic length of God.
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Jan 14, 2013 - 03:32am PT
Enigmaticism

Climb an Enigma
Join the mice on the Stigma
Take a trip up Void.

Klesmer square-dancin'
No harder than polka-dottin'
Of that I'm certain.

Does living water
Die when it freezes? Just what
Does it do when dead?

All glaciers must die.
All glaciers just lie
In troughs of their own.

I may never know--
If bowls of Jello freeze
Will the stuff still shake?

I sit here writing.
You sit there reading my write.
Are we connecting?

I'll likely never know.
Is that the point or have you read
The one thing not said?


To all the brave f*#king ice climbing heros. It's f*#king water, I've never understood the compulsion, but it's a thing of beauty to watch. This one's for Mr. Lowe.
Anastasia

climber
InLOVEwithAris.
Jan 14, 2013 - 04:28am PT
I miss Mtmun...

Yeah, here here to Mr. Lowe.
I like him very much too.
That is a great poem!
Fantastic Mr. Mouse.
Tony Bird

climber
Northridge, CA
Jan 14, 2013 - 07:39am PT
wow--stasi was up til 1:30. what will she cook up next?
Fletcher

Trad climber
The great state of advaita
Jan 14, 2013 - 11:50am PT
Anastasia has a baby. All bets are off for sleep for at a least a year or so... if she's really lucky! :-)

With 3, 6 and 9 year olds, you never know when the call is going to come in. Was up at 4:20 am putting covers back on 3 year old who'd thown them off (on a night where it got down to 32 here in Socal!

And hear, hear for Mr. Lowe!

OK, back to poetry:

No postmortems, please.
The world is immortal.
The world renews itself.

What about poems and songs --
Do they perish?
Maybe they only
Vanish awhile.
Maybe they go underground
To gather some other
Knowledge and come back
In another form:

New words, a new melody,
Yet somehow
The same beloved,
Singing the same song.

~ Gregory Orr ~
Fletcher

Trad climber
The great state of advaita
Jan 14, 2013 - 11:56am PT
100 Butterflies (excerpt

Where you are going
and the place you stay
come to the same thing.
What you long for
and what you've left behind
are as useless as your name.
Just one time, walk out
into the field and look
at that towering oak --
an acorn still beating at its heart.

~ Peter Levitt ~


(100 Butterflies)
Mtnmun

Trad climber
Top of the Mountain Mun
Topic Author's Reply - Jan 14, 2013 - 11:58am PT
The media wrestles the ire of one so appalled
School kids are singing the praises of President Obama.
“Kill your TV, end the media mind control BS”, says I.
"Get a life", I am told
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Jan 14, 2013 - 12:14pm PT
Credit: ABC/NBC/TNT/FOX/ALL-BS
Ice melts winter begins
Miracles happen in cold
The Mtnmun returns.

Welcome back,
Your dreams were your ticket out.

Welcome back,
To that same old place that you laughed about.

Well the names have all changed since you hung around,
But those dreams have remained and they're turned around.

Who'd have thought they'd lead ya (Who'd have thought they'd lead ya)
Here where we need ya (Here where we need ya)

Yeah we tease him a lot cause we've got him on the spot, welcome back,
Welcome back, welcome back, welcome back.

lyrics by John Sebastian, a useful poet
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