Another Poetry Thread

Search
Go

Discussion Topic

Return to Forum List
Post a Reply
Messages 61 - 80 of total 476 in this topic << First  |  < Previous  |  Show All  |  Next >  |  Last >>
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Oct 3, 2012 - 02:15am PT
Far from defusing I find it amusing.
Get on with some "muse"-ing, Thalia from Visalia.

Muse America

Purple MMMMMMMMM mountains of majesty.
Above, the chemtrailed planes.
Look into the long San Joaquin horizon
Or down into the abyss on which we stand
It will f*#k you as stupid as you have f*#ked it.
It's National Park Service land.

And it's wild; it will kill you.
Like Jesse James. Like Vito Corleone.
Or the rest of the posse,
Tommy Jeffergun
George Washingun
Ronald Raygun
Old Betsy Ross
George W-shaped Ambush
Richard Six-gun

The Russian River is at flood stage, head guy.
What must we do?
Call out the cavalry?
Call out to calvary?
Whatever it is, vary the ca-den soh caaaare ful-ly,
and then do an about-face crossing the span

On reaching Bridal Veil Creek.
Halt. And have a good cry at Lizzie's bridge
For her sake and yours and the kids;
And recall that the creek weeps not,
It is the land weeping for itself;
And you must do so, as well.
Credit: BooDawg
Thanks, Ken!



Fletcher

Trad climber
Fumbling towards stone
Oct 3, 2012 - 01:09pm PT
Fresh

To move
Cleanly.
Needing to be
Nowhere else.
Wanting nothing
From any store.
To lift something
You already had
And set it down in
A new place.
Awakened eye
Seeing freshly.
What does that do to
The old blood moving through
Its channels?

~ Naomi Shihab Nye ~

(You & Yours)
Fletcher

Trad climber
Fumbling towards stone
Oct 3, 2012 - 01:14pm PT
Scanning through here way to quickly this morning.

Some bits caught my eye.

Gary Snyder, Piute Creek. Right on target (for my small corner of the world, at least).

Offenbach's Barcarolle. Definitely caught that. Twas sung at my wedding.

In gratitude,
Eric
Burchey

Mountain climber
San Diego
Oct 3, 2012 - 01:18pm PT
Killer thread!

I saw some great poems over on SP - they kept getting deleted for some reason. Luckily, they were saved on another site.

Champion(a poem)

No one asks for your opinion
You give it

A long rope drapes down from the 5.6 offwidth
eyes go up to the sky
you thank God you can see the wheels
the giant oversized wheels of your truck
the belay ledge draws close, and your sweat
acrid sweat soaks stache
running down the chin
running down and down over the rolls of gut
a drip falls allllll the way down
32 feet down to the base
juggy crux is pulled with a whoomp
smashing the single-pitch-single-push-single-hex-placed
you ARE the Sierra
rock and stone build your bone
and we bow
Burchey

Mountain climber
San Diego
Oct 4, 2012 - 11:01am PT
A Great Silence in the East[side of the Sierra]

We-
a ragged crew of noobs and skanks

We wait

not one single sorry soul possesses worth
to hold an oval from your rack in fragile hand
nor clip a bolt laid forth from rap-ped line
or warm up on your warmupclimb


We wait.

A body, small and cold.
(A body, tired and old?)
Of the sea, of the ship, of the Top Gun ego trip.
Return, return from distant top-rope set
Forsake that yonder crag
Return to us, from gently sloping slopes (rope up!)

Give us your words. Smite our eyes and ears with your words.
Garble them with plastic sticky sticking keys
press keyboard down and birth your rambling rambles

You OWE us THIS!

you owe us this....


We wait.
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Oct 4, 2012 - 12:48pm PT
Summertimer in the Yosemite Museum

The fithools ooze tar from a mis-named weed
And the wild oats reflect the Spaniard greed
Which started a long-ago fire in Califarnotoff
There in the distances
The many distances
The many smoky, foggy, long egos
In the Golden Days state
We seem to be in now

See, I have some views and so do you
And the guys over there a-stare at Thomas Hill
They are looking at their own past
Though the eyes of a great painter
Who saw the same things they saw
Yesterday before they were born
Or before she was born
Lady-weaving-string-baskets
To entertain the people in her own past

She can and did explain
And remember how it was
In the museum of her mind
She was to me so kind
To tell me of her people
And why they carry on
Their work and play and song
As if it were a single thread
Made of many hairs
And some string added in
From the new guys


This was Julia Parker, who I met in the Yosemite Museum yesterday. What a lady. I did meet her years ago. She was making a red string and reed basket while we talked, or rather, she talked and I listened.

I had just come from speaking with Merry B. Two wise-women in two hours is just enough, let me tell you.

Thanks, both of you precious contrubitors to our community, for opening my eyes and broadening the skies for opening my ears and bringing home the years
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Oct 5, 2012 - 10:20pm PT
http://www.supertopo.com/climbing/thread.php?topic_id=1054430&tn=1700

Based on Weej's latest expulsion:

New Thing Nor Northing
(Borrowed Intejections and Directions)

That question Norwegians ask when they get another year older: Huh?

That's the only interjection he needed.
Weej succeeded. I only needed to read it ten times.
Wood this been simpler?
Maybe. But not so much fun for him.
Or for you. Or me. I can tell it's a failed experiment.
Never up, never in.
You can try, but it ain't a sin.
A picture is worth a thousand words.
But not in Norwegian.

Credit: f*#kyeahthorloki.com


At least that's what I am taking away from this poem.
Huh.
Fletcher

Trad climber
Fumbling towards stone
Oct 7, 2012 - 01:27pm PT
Parable

Some fishermen pulled a bottle from the deep. It held a piece of paper,
with these words: "Somebody save me! I'm here. The ocean cast me on this desert island.
I am standing on the shore waiting for help. Hurry! I'm here!"

"There's no date. I bet it's already too late anyway.
It could have been floating for years," the first fisherman said.

"And he doesn't say where. It's not even clear which ocean," the second fisherman said.

"It's not too late, or too far. The island Here is everywhere," the third fisherman said.

They all felt awkward. No one spoke. That's how it goes with universal truths.


~ Wislawa Szymborska ~

(Poems New and Collected 1957-1997, trans. S. Baranczak and C. Cavanagh)
eKat

Trad climber
BITD3
Oct 7, 2012 - 01:35pm PT
The Tamarack change

Yellow creeping in slowly

Autumn on its way

Credit: eKat
Fletcher

Trad climber
Fumbling towards stone
Oct 7, 2012 - 02:42pm PT
Love that eKat! Economy that speaks giant volumes. TPFU!

Eric
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Oct 7, 2012 - 04:13pm PT
Holidays Among the Rocks

Credit: Cardcow.com

Our last visitor fled two weeks ago.
Then the rocks began to fall....
Hear the larger masses journeying down.
Then that reeky storm-tissue disappears.
I'll eat Royal Arches, salted with Bachelor's Tears.
I'll choose Riverbank Meadow.
And some purple granite for me.
It was a tranquil day in Yosemite.
--Reverntly lifted off of JMuir, Winter in Yosemite, Yosemite in Winter

http://www.yosemite.ca.us/john_muir_writings/yosemite_in_winter.html

"That giant speaks volumes," retorted MFM.
eKat

Trad climber
BITD3
Oct 7, 2012 - 04:32pm PT

Love that eKat! Economy that speaks giant volumes. TPFU!

You're welcome. . . I sorta have a thing for haiku.

:-)

eK@

eKat

Trad climber
BITD3
Oct 7, 2012 - 04:35pm PT
Credit: eKat

There they are again

Those Tamarack changed my life

Winter beckons now
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Oct 7, 2012 - 04:45pm PT
Love that eKat!
Economy speaks
Giant Volumes.
T P F U.--Fletcher
eKat

Trad climber
BITD3
Oct 7, 2012 - 05:46pm PT
haiku is simple

five seven five plus seasons

don't get too hung up
eKat

Trad climber
BITD3
Oct 7, 2012 - 06:07pm PT
photo not found
Missing photo ID#267020

Halloween Monsters

Follow you around and yell

They love you really
Fletcher

Trad climber
Fumbling towards stone
Oct 7, 2012 - 06:13pm PT
You guys are making my beautiful warm afternoon even better.

Warm days and cool nights here in the San Gabriels... the wheel is turning (did it ever stop?).

Bring on that Muir guy... I think we may have shared a tree back in another life.

Eric
eKat

Trad climber
BITD3
Oct 7, 2012 - 06:18pm PT
Fletch friend from this place

Journey far to meet some day

Honor with whispers
eKat

Trad climber
BITD3
Oct 7, 2012 - 06:52pm PT
When I tear it up

Nothin' looks impossible

Then the sun comes up

Credit: eKat
Fletcher

Trad climber
Fumbling towards stone
Oct 8, 2012 - 01:46am PT
Cross posted from Neebee's "THE ROBIN SHED..." thread...

The Messenger:

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird-equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me keep my mind on what matters, which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,
which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is that we live forever.

~ Mary Oliver ~
Messages 61 - 80 of total 476 in this topic << First  |  < Previous  |  Show All  |  Next >  |  Last >>
Return to Forum List
Post a Reply
 
Our Guidebooks
Check 'em out!
SuperTopo Guidebooks


Try a free sample topo!

 
SuperTopo on the Web

Review Categories
Recent Route Beta
Recent Gear Reviews