* I still recall that little creek
tucked in between the mountain ridges
only seen by those who'd seek
escape from the workday week
on a waterway which had no bridges.
..................................
The cold mist of a waterfall
beads my old wool coat and skin
as I answer winter's call
easing down this small stream's hall
on a sylvan stroll again.
About the only green around
is laurel thickets on hill sides
and velvet moss matting damp ground
silencing my footfall's sound
where the hibernating newt now hides.
The bare trees hardly even shiver
from the swirling mountain wind
which seeks in ernest to deliver
air that makes the few ferns quiver
as I round the creek's next bend.
Where a riffle forms below a pool
and shushes me to listen close
to the water, way past being cool
as melting icicles now drool
and drip like a runny nose.
Within the shadows, frozen snows
still hide here in this sheltered valley
where mid-day sunlight barely shows
and after a few hours goes
to visit another on its salley.
A rainbow flash of feeding trout,
just a flash in a stone's eddy,
where building rapids start to shout
as they fall and tumble all about
among gray boulders old and steady.
While way up in the cloudless sky
an eagle tries to tempt a mate.
He circles and screams there so high
with that coarse and piercing cry
in his search which won't abate.
Although it's mere mid-afternoon
in this valley steep and hidden
the sun will reach trees' lashes soon
and eastern sky will show the moon
as evening rushes in unbidden.
So I turn my feet upon the trail
which heads back to my old red truck
before the dim lights finally fail
as cold condenses each exhale.
I'll return soon with any luck.
** as luck would have it, this was my last trip to a creek now drowned for years beneath a lake.
Comments
Oh how happy I am,
Oh how happy I am,
how happy I am that you had the luck to see this place
before it was drowned,
you have given me the best of walks
reminding me, in this Winter of deep snow, of the earth,
the smell of the earth,
the sight of the shiny green laurel leaves
with their ample bushes hiding dark places,
I so LOVED going on your walk Stan,
thank you, thank you, thank you. Ann.
hi Ann
It's always good to know that any of my writing invites others to share the journey within...........stan
Hi Mark
This small stream was almost completely overhung with branches from both sides thus giving the feeling of walking through a hall in the trees. That other line might just be redundant . I'll see what I can do with it.........stan
Hi Mark
Decided that line you referred to Was redundant. See how it works now.........stan
You have often complained
You have often complained that people don't appreciate the true meaning of your poems. This is a good example. I see you are striving for something deeper, but I can't find it, or if I tried would probably get it wrong.
I plan to run a workshop soon on understanding the meaning within poems. I hope you will join.
[then again maybe I am insensitive and stupid]
hi Jess
Sorry to have given you fits trying to find a second level to a poem which has none. Sometines it's just what it is : mere pastoral poetry in this case a poem of remembrance about a little mountain creek now drowned by a lake used for power generation.........guess it Could be read as a price of progress poem............stan
phew! that's a relief!
although I admit to moments of stupidity and insensitivity.
Yes
Its a lovely napcatch of a painting
when the wind even lifts the hair
and the sounds of eagles whining,
of the sweet smell of grass and mountain fresh air,
the gurgle of brooks...
Yes. Stan can take us through natures own simple! expressions
and make their essence flow wherever we are.
Ann.
Hi Ann
Sorry for late reply. Been off line a few days. As always I'm glad to have you and others accompany me in my writes..........stan
I LOVE this poem
Stan on re reading because of your remarks,
I LOVE this poem
it is for me a whole environment
into which I can feel myself so intensely present
as to see and hear and feel the 'imagery' (!) so well.
I did, however, trip - no that's not the word,
my finer judgement of the inner meaning of a word, here and there,
were slightly contrived to be verse.
Perhaps that is the manner of verse, and yet one reads poems where no hesitation mars the whole.
I maybe wrong and the next time I read it, it will only show me that it is I who made the trip
in the way I read it;
I shall study it again afresh and see what it does,
rereading it aloud somewhere to myself;
I shall feel the waterfalls 'sprute' (N) on my face,
and tread the earth
and look to the sky
and hear the thin cry of the eagle
and get back to terra firma
to say what the poem did for me poetically
Each time I join you in your ether of art,
you give me the essences of nature
to perfume my day.
Thank you Ann.
.
You inspired this one just now:-
You inspired this one just now:-
"THE BRIDGELESS WATERWAY"
2nd April 2012.
The bridge-less waterway
its blue and grey, its green
and orange in the sunset's ray
is gone today, is gone away
drowned by man's eagerness
to spread his seed,
his deeds of madness
even take away the weeds,
such sadness
caused beasts and birds of prey
who circle still
where once there was a little bay
so beautiful,
with willow trees
that used to weep at man's encroachment
towards the creek
a sacred place
for all who came to seek a peace,
a quiet
from fits and starts of city arts
the sparks of motors,
the groan of heavy traffic
moaning in the sway
of vagrant winds
a background drone
that never stopped to breath.
Ann of Norway
Hi Ann
It is seldom that anything of mine affects anybody as much as this has apparently touched you. And I've NEVER had one return this much to any poem of mine.I guess this blind hog found a random acorn here lol. Yes it seems we are bent on destroying some of these places. My brother used to canoe on the lake which drowned this place. He said the water was so clear that it was almost like floating in air above the submerged forest. One type beauty replaced by another..........stan
Quote: ." My brother used to
Quote: ." My brother used to canoe on the lake which drowned this place. He said the water was so clear that it was almost like floating in air above the submerged forest."
Now that's poetry,
~A
Hi Anna
I always Have maintained that my real poetry was accidental lol. You know when I wrote that in my comment the thought flashed through my empty head that it might be a good basis for either a poetic prose or a(shudder) free verse lol.................stan
Hi Alan
Thank you for dropping by and I'm pleased you enjoyed this oldie