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Q- Ball
Mountain climber
where the wind always blows
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Aug 16, 2011 - 10:04pm PT
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A wise and worthy old trout,
painted with colors red, blue and green,
snatching at flies on the surface,
all but the one on my line
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Anastasia
climber
hanging from an ice pick and missing my mama.
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Aug 16, 2011 - 10:10pm PT
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Good friends are greatly missed
leaving an emptiness to every room
all gatherings incomplete
yet somewhere in time
their laugh remains
unforgotten
AFS
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Norwegian
Trad climber
Placerville, California
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Aug 17, 2011 - 11:53am PT
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im terrified to be,
so instead i dream.
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drljefe
climber
El Presidio San Augustin del Tucson
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Aug 17, 2011 - 12:49pm PT
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dig deep
beyond
the rich topsoil
and attractive cover
the roots may have a
structure hard
to understand
dig deep
without a spade
your hands
will do
just fine.
8.17.11
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drljefe
climber
El Presidio San Augustin del Tucson
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Aug 19, 2011 - 03:37am PT
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Bump...in the night.
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Norwegian
Trad climber
Placerville, California
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Aug 19, 2011 - 05:32am PT
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four cups of tea,
why stop at three?
-an american ode to excess.
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Norwegian
Trad climber
Placerville, California
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Aug 19, 2011 - 06:12am PT
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when a butterfly collides with my car,
i sense the mass of the insect.
through my being.
and my soul hyper-blooms.
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Norwegian
Trad climber
Placerville, California
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Aug 19, 2011 - 06:22am PT
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i am living comfortably,
i am living agreeably,
and most importantly,
i am living cheaply.
-mozart
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Anastasia
climber
hanging from an ice pick and missing my mama.
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Aug 19, 2011 - 07:36am PT
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...and there is still music after I am gone
listen for I am near
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nutjob
Gym climber
Berkeley, CA
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Aug 19, 2011 - 09:13am PT
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in the dark quiet hours
when others sleep and cold seeps to my bones
I am free
but I mourn the cost of freedom,
free to be but not with thee
until wavering walls fall shimmering
like the first rays of morning sun
my soul is clothed in your embrace
and I am happy.
2011.08.19
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Iclimb5.1
climber
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Aug 19, 2011 - 02:34pm PT
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The Art of Disappearing.
When they say Don't I know you? say no.
When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
before answering.
Someone telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
Then reply.
If they say we should get together.
say why? It's not that you don't love them any more.
You're trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees.
The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished. When someone recognizes you in a grocery store
nod briefly and become a cabbage.
When someone you haven't seen in ten years
appears at the door,
don't start singing him all your new songs.
You will never catch up.
Walk around feeling like a leaf. Know you could tumble any second. Then decide what to do with your time.
NAOMI SHIHAB NYE
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Prezwoodz
climber
Anchorage
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Aug 19, 2011 - 03:21pm PT
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Life flows limb to limb, hands growing outstretched to accept the energy
of the sun.
A conscience grows unknowing of its purpose, a purpose which does not
need to be known to have meaning.
Energy is accepted from all things, the soul feeds it as the water
quenches its thirst.
Years have no meaning and time is the crux in the discovery of purpose.
The legs twist and bend as they become the ground.
A relationship is born between two beings, stability is the reward.
As the earth once fed the tree now the tree will feed the earth.
The tree flows back into the soil and breathes its soul into the air.
A brief moment in time allowed the two to coexist in constant change.
Fate is not a word of sorrow but gives meaning to the purpose.
The purpose is the ultimate reason for being.
It existed so that others could exist.
 Tree
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Anastasia
climber
hanging from an ice pick and missing my mama.
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Aug 19, 2011 - 03:24pm PT
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the hardest thing that one must accept
is that some things can never be changed
and to recognize one's failures
yet never accept defeat
I contemplate solutions
as I waste this precious time to act
this choice that must be made
is weighting me, bending my back
for I am walking blindly
this twisted path of emotions
here I crouch like an old man
opening my hands
all I can give is truth
sharp and unforgiving
hurting us both
yet in the sharing
if we both claim our faults
maybe the best will be left
maybe...
love is for the brave
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drljefe
climber
El Presidio San Augustin del Tucson
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Aug 20, 2011 - 04:30pm PT
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scalloped sand
hardening with sun
the flood is gone
left only waste
and a story.
8.20.11
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Marlow
Sport climber
OSLO
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Aug 23, 2011 - 04:08pm PT
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"To wash and rinse our souls of their age-old sorrows,
We drained a hundred jugs of wine.
A splendid night it was . . . .
In the clear moonlight we were loath to go to bed.
But at last drunkenness overcame us;
And we laid ourselves down on the empty mountain,
The earth for pillow, and the great heaven for coverlet."
Not my poetry
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drljefe
climber
El Presidio San Augustin del Tucson
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Aug 23, 2011 - 04:17pm PT
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Thanks for sharing the poetry folks.
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drljefe
climber
El Presidio San Augustin del Tucson
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Aug 24, 2011 - 01:22am PT
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This poetry is good for many things; the contributor, the reader, and yes, keeping Paul's memory, and writing, up top.
I've only shared my own recent writing.
Here's one I read in the New Yorker that affected me.
ON THE NATURE OF UNDERSTANDING
Say you hoped to
tame something
wild and stayed
calm and inched up
day by day. Or even
not tame it but
meet it halfway.
Things went along.
You made progress,
understanding
it would be a
lengthy process,
sensing changes
in your hair and
nails. So it's
strange when it
attacks: you thought
you had a deal.
-Kay Ryan
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Marlow
Sport climber
OSLO
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Aug 24, 2011 - 11:01am PT
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"The wolf watched me with her yellow eyes and in them was no despair but only that same reckonless deep of loneliness that cored the world to its heart."
Not my own poetry
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k-man
Gym climber
SCruz
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Aug 24, 2011 - 12:23pm PT
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Very nice, thanks for the posts.
I like this one a lot:
the hardest thing that one must accept
is that some things can never be changed
...
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drljefe
climber
El Presidio San Augustin del Tucson
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Aug 24, 2011 - 09:15pm PT
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So many different styles..and talent.
Poetry's cool like that...
Edit:
In the creative writing and poetry courses I've taken, "workshopping" your stuff was essential.
So any input- praise or criticism is welcomed by me.
Don't know how others feel so for now I'll keep my thoughts on other's writing to myself.
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