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Disaster Master
Sport climber
Arcata / Santa Rosa, CA
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Topic Author's Reply - Sep 20, 2010 - 11:22pm PT
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Tami, I must admit, when single the three P's worked for me:
Pot, Puppies, and Poetry. The trifecta is undefeatable.
By the way do you remember meeting me at OR years ago? we talked in the airport too. I told you I named a boulder problem "I had Tammi Knight's love child".
Ya said that makes no sense.
I said "Exactly."
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Oxymoron
Big Wall climber
total Disarray
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Sep 20, 2010 - 11:23pm PT
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Pure genius!
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Disaster Master
Sport climber
Arcata / Santa Rosa, CA
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Topic Author's Reply - Sep 20, 2010 - 11:30pm PT
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Oh well.
Who the hell are you anyway???
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Disaster Master
Sport climber
Arcata / Santa Rosa, CA
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Topic Author's Reply - Sep 21, 2010 - 01:03am PT
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Back to poetry!
THE SEAL
The sea has lapped at it
Three months now,
Rushing in – then out,
Dissatisfied,
Empty handed.
For IT is yet
Too large to move,
Still, grounded to the sand
& reluctant to be reclaimed.
The eyes are gone,
( early summer
raven meals )
& the skin is
laid back half-way
from the bone beneath.
Still,
It is here remaining,
( blubber unconsumed,
partially mummified
by the tide )
still staring out
through fly-covered sockets.
How is it
( I wonder aloud )
that you came here?
And why do you still persist?
You’re time here is done
And the waves
Call you back
To the waiting arms
Of the Mother,
The Baker.
No answer comes,
Only empty holes
With a hint
Of lingering fire.
Only teeth bared
Beyond repair,
Smiling at the Punch-Line
Of a joke that
Sailed over my head...
& is three months gone.
-Paul Humphrey
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Oxymoron
Big Wall climber
total Disarray
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Sep 21, 2010 - 01:27am PT
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That's pretty good. Thank you, Wonder. (Wow, I really say that a lot. Not to you...to Wonder{the concept})
WooHoo Hoo Woo WooHoo Hoo Woo. Sorry, It was the song.
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Srbphoto
climber
Kennewick wa
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Sep 21, 2010 - 01:28am PT
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Mullet
O! SQUIRREL brother,
Your tail, my hair. We are one.
Yet I must eat you.
In honor of Leonard Skinner RIP
Lynyrd Skynyrd don't
win no spelling bees. Who cares?
They rock the trailer
Disclaimer: I didn't write either one. I am not that "gifted".
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BooDawg
Social climber
Polynesian Paralysis
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Sep 21, 2010 - 04:59am PT
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Alani, Native of the Wet Forest
With slender trunk,
standing straight,
she is not the tallest tree in the forest.
Yet surely one of the loveliest.
And sweetest smelling.
Sunlight filters down on her skin
and through her leaves,
giving light to all around her.
Native birds, apapane, elepai’o,
visit her flowers,
play along her strong branches and
sing their songs to her,
bringing music to the entire forest.
Rain falls gently or heavily
on her leaves and branches,
bringing life to her and all of the trees.
She smiles in the rain and in the sun,
smiles at all of life, not caring
what others may think
or not think about her.
Or even if they notice her
or don’t notice her
or know her.
Sitting next to her,
breathing in her lovely fragrance,
listening to the rain
and to the gentle breeze that makes her leaves dance,
Touching her smooth, soft leaves,
Watching her, so at home in the forest,
My senses come alive to all of Life within me.
I smile in my heart.
And want to know her better.
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Two Pack Jack
climber
The hills
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Sep 22, 2010 - 12:47am PT
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'night nurse'
LEDs softly lite
a crescent half face
while she
cerebrally indulges
in the decadence
of circular trivialities,
after a twilight night
stuffed of
death,
a thanksgiving turkey.
Dora the Explorer
Scrubs
and Kashi® cereal.
A hush of rain
settles on the grass outside
like the gentle
hand
of a grandmother.
Her clock
is watching her sleep,
now,
cocooned in
heavy sheets
in July.
You're warmth
lays next to me
in the mornings
in a crinkled
bedsheet oval.
Sometimes we spoon
while
waiting for the sunrise,
but only when you're gone.
You are a sweet
honeysuckle eclipse,
a secret buried
in a cryptic geometric
dream.
Missing you is the only
thing I do well
besides
building
drip sand castles.
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Disaster Master
Sport climber
Arcata / Santa Rosa, CA
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Topic Author's Reply - Sep 22, 2010 - 11:45am PT
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Wow. I give that last one an A.
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Tony Bird
climber
Northridge, CA
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Sep 22, 2010 - 12:16pm PT
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Is poetry dead?
perhaps it ought to be. i think poetics is alive and well. you see it dozens of times a day, mostly in advertising. people love the sound and play of words. they'd rather have poetic words than prosaic. it's a taste which comes when a mind is attached to an ear.
poetry, unfortunately, degenerates easily into therapy. nobody is listening to you except yourself and the paid therapist, whose meter is running. a poet's circle becomes a little truce: i'll pretend i'm listening to you if you pretend you're listening to me.
but real poetry, which is rare, is one of the most powerful things out there:
"... how dreadful to be somebody,
"how public, like a frog,
"to tell its name the livelong june
"to an admiring bog."
"had we but world enough, and time,
"this coyness, lady, were no crime ..."
"... i'm not willing to lay down and die
"because i am an innocent man."
"beauty is truth and truth beauty
"that's all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."
"i'll play ball with the underdog
"and sit with the child who's wrong
"be still when the earth is silent
"and sing when my strength is gone."
"... and like a thunderbolt, he falls."
"... but i have promises to keep
"and miles to go before i sleep
"and miles to go before i sleep."
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Disaster Master
Sport climber
Arcata / Santa Rosa, CA
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Topic Author's Reply - Sep 22, 2010 - 12:20pm PT
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Tony,
Wise words. Exelent quotes. Your brain is firmly attatched.
I love the shared narsacism (SP?)idea. So true. If only everyone knew my thoughts and words were the ones they really need. HA, HA.
Paul
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Disaster Master
Sport climber
Arcata / Santa Rosa, CA
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Topic Author's Reply - Sep 22, 2010 - 12:25pm PT
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Rough day yesterday. My girlfriend wrote this for me after I went to sleep.
I like it!
Reply To Paul's Poems
So you think you're the only one
Life is here now, what are you waiting for?
Do over?
More time
A better body
So you think you're the only one
With wet dreams?
Who was first
Or last
So you think you're the only one
Who's alive?
Or dying
Painfuly reminishing
So you think you're the only one
Who's laughing?
Grin to grin
Smile, erase the face
So you think you are the only one
To become?
Yes, become
Become what?
The only one? Yes.
 by Ruth RIffe
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Two Pack Jack
climber
The hills
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Sep 23, 2010 - 01:01am PT
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I dig that last poem. it provokes earthy and real images.
This is a poem about how I see reincarnation as the eternal flow of consciousness through language and action into physical and metaphysical media. That media holds that grain of consciousness in time, until it is let out once again into a sentient mind.
'The Bee'
A bee collects
honey
from a quiet sunny
shoal
in a sea of buttercups.
He buzzes back
heavy hearted to his hive,
on the grounds of an
insight interminable:
hell no longer be alive.
She shyly swims
along the air and
whispers to her friend
the secret of the shoal.
Have no fear
he bee she bee,
now you will never die.
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justthemaid
climber
Jim Henson's Basement
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Sep 29, 2010 - 09:55pm PT
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I just found this Shel Siverstien rip off I wrote when I was cleaning out my files.
Ickle Me, Pickle Me Tickle Me too
Went to boulder a slopey V2 .
"Hooray!
"What fun!"
"Where are my shoes?"
Said Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.
Ickle was spotter, Pickle had a tattoo,
And Tickle brought ganja and Mountain Dew
Climb higher
And higher
And higher
And higher they do,
Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.
Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too,
Over the crimps and the crux they flew.
"Hold On"
"And send!"
"I hope we do!"
Cried Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.
Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too
Never returned to the proj. they slew,
And nobody
Knows what
Happened to
Dear Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.
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Disaster Master
Social climber
Born in So-Cal, left my soul in far Nor-Cal.
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Topic Author's Reply - Nov 28, 2010 - 05:13pm PT
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In a scan frenzy. Found this one, "Making Landscapes" in an old Wild Humboldt magazine. Click on photo to enlarge.
-Paul Humphrey
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Disaster Master
Social climber
Born in So-Cal, left my soul in far Nor-Cal.
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Topic Author's Reply - Nov 28, 2010 - 07:03pm PT
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Another from a past publication, Wild Humboldt.
Click on pic, zoom to enlarge.
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groundup
Trad climber
hard sayin' not knowin'
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Nov 28, 2010 - 09:13pm PT
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After the trip to see you
I washed the clothes that smelled like you
opened the door,
added the soap,
and threw them in.
I unpacked the things that smelled like you
with the hands that smelled like you.
I put them on shelves
to wait.
I hung up the pack
walked past the things and down the stairs
to fold the clothes
that still
smelled like you
with the hands
that still
smelled like you.
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Tony Bird
climber
Northridge, CA
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Nov 29, 2010 - 12:41pm PT
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bump for shel silverstein fans.
shel left an amazing body of work. i think the best interpreter of his songs was his good friend, bob gibson. shel is usually clever as hell, but occasionally he's quite thoughtful, as in "me and jimmy rodgers" and "hey, nelly, nelly".
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Norwegian
Trad climber
Placerville, California
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Nov 29, 2010 - 06:35pm PT
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we gotta upset the physiological paradigms.
it's just a mere evolutionary hiccup.
here, i'll start. and, you'll see.
when you live, lie down.
when you die, stand up and walk to beyond.
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