“We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children.” ~ Native American Proverb
Nothing clears the mind quite like a weekend in the mountains. A (surprisingly) stifling heater in the cabin didn’t hurt of course, but it just made the impact of walking out those doors and into the sunny, snow-struck earth all the more striking. Now it’s back to the real world. At least I face it refreshed.
Keeping to a “short but sweet” theme that seems to be overarching my poetry this week, I give you a Haiku. Enjoy:
Never seen Mountains;
the inner is higher than
without: nothing known.
Posted in conjunction with the Thursday Poets Rally.
And by the by, as a part of that, I nominate Kavita! Read any of her stuff. You’ll quickly figure out why.
Midnight ring
nightingale screech of metal grind
vestiges of slumber—
in silent Chaos writhe
the World all sheltered black,
this Veil, it doth descend
betwixt the Heavens and the Earth
no more Fire, no more Song
yet Dappled Emeralds gleam
throughout the Haze of Waking
this World rise, Higher and Higher
tilting back, breathing in
the clouds, circling pull
Dream yet from Reality
and Everything of this Canvas,
rides Higher still into the Night
Destination: World
set it all below, and looking down
bask within the Golden River Shadow
of History shaped and cast
into the Towers of Majesty
Beyond Imagination—
the Stars and the Sea,
no King might ever rise
so High as thee.
* Another poem for the wonderful Monday Poetry Potluck, as hosted by Jingle Poetry, and those lovely poets Amanda and Kavita! The theme this week was mountains and beaches, and I couldn’t help but think back to my most recent venture in Colorado. This one was inspired by my time there in the summer–I hope you enjoy! Hope you don’t mind that I also took the opportunity to throw in some more of my pictures from that trip, even if they don’t match up quite specifically with the poem itself.
Photo by Chris Galford
White water rush,
cool crystal commence
the crashing of my flesh
subverted in the waves
of vigorous caress,
still on, this mountain roar–
a silent stillness, in the drink.
I will ride you down.
Weather the weather,
Gnash tooth and claw
This spear, your arm
Outstretched to meet me
Like a wall of flesh
No more, no more
Come dust and earth
On bitter wind blow
I am vengeance
Ride on, ride on
And I will bear you down
Ride on, ride on
My lance, my passion
My steed, my life
Put up your steel
And dig your feet
I ride and ride for thee
Ride on, ride on
This barren waste is wasted
Ride on, ride on
Cracked and peel and broke asunder
Torn hoof and heel
I soar, as an eagle on the wind
Above the mountain heights
As both sink lower to the earth
Scarlet memory flow
Here falls, here rides
The mad man dead upon the field
And I am here, and staggering on
Ride on, ride on
A breath, a life, a broken soul
Ride on, ride on.
My latest contribution to the wonderful One Shot Poetry Wednesdays! If you happen to notice a correlation of theme, or at least, imagery, between this and last week’s submission, though, you’d be right. Congratulations. I’ve had this whole cavalry sort of notion stuck in my head for a bit now, and both of these were a result of that. Once you’ve had a look, check out some of the other One Shot Poets as well– they’re a skilled bunch of poets, looking to form a community and support one another. Enjoy!
It’s been several weeks now since I returned from Colorado, and aside from a few shots used to accentuate some of my poems, I’ve not posted all that many shots from the trip. This is to set things right. Though I took hundreds of shots while out and about in the mountainous state, I have selected a few here as a sort of highlight real for the trip. WordPress, I think, would be quite upset with me if I tried to upload everything. In fact, I think I’d be liable to break the bloody system.
So here, in a nutshell, is my trip. What better inspiration could one have asked for? Sights featured in my shots include Rocky Mountain National Park, the Red Rocks and Red Rocks Amphitheater, my brother and sister-in-law’s home, and just a few shots from the more nature-inclined areas around Denver, CO.
Moya and Ares
The family.
Red Rocks Amphitheater
My brother, Jim
The folks
At the top of the world.
Moose!
My sister-in-law, Cassie.
What you may notice about these Haiku is that they do not, in fact, have to do with the mountains themselves, as many of the my previous works have. Though these came from my time in Colorado, they were inspired by other sights around me–the city of Denver, for one, the sight of the towering mountain mines for another.
Also, while there are more still to come, I want to say that once again, there may be another brief hiatus on posting as I head north. I will only be gone for a few days, and when I return, posting will resume as normal.
In the meantime, enjoy:
Split the rock below,
Drills bore into deepest hold—
Dead men tell no tales.
–
Rocky mile high club
Five hundred thousand souls strong
No wonder they smile.
–
Beyond the pale light
Sleeps the gilded dragon king—
Fear the reigning flame.
Perhaps its because neither of these posts come with photos, but today I feel struck with the urge to drop two poems on you. The first was about my night ride through the mountains, and like its predecessor, this one is all in the title: a fire on the mountain. This one in particular saddens me for not capturing, but the fire struck as the evening was coming on, high up in the mountains, and I was caught in my car, in the seat opposite it, far and away from the actual site of the flames. What few shots I did get were marred by the glass and the swirl of the smoke.
Even so, I composed a poem of it, as it still struck me, even from a distance. Fire. Destruction. Beauty. We often focus on the destructive power of fire, but like any other element of our world, there is an unrivaled sense of beauty to it. We fear it, but it is only natural. It may herald destruction, but it is also a forerunner to creation, a key part of the cycle of death and rebirth.
Fire on the Mountain
Black skies loom over the valley—
There’s a fire on the mountain
Like a lighthouse in the night
And the smoke is rising,
Lightning sparks the hills
And only then
The houses in the trees.
This is a poem dedicated to the city of Denver. I wrote it as we were winding our way through the mountains one night, gradually descending on the city from the trails above. It made for a lovely sight, this city cradled in the mountains, shining like a sea of lights. Behind it, all the mountains were darkness, black forms rising up to kiss the gathering clouds. It left an impression. Sadly, I have no picture accompaniment for this one, but I hope the poem suffices:
Silhouettes in the distance
Hold them in their shadow,
This City of Lights
Winding through the paths
Beneath the mountains they shade.
Yep, that's me!
Well I have returned at last from my trip to Colorado. Suffice to say, it was a beautiful trip, every minute of it. I have always felt a calling to the mountains, and I personally feel my brother is a lucky man to live amongst them. Wonderful places–breathtaking scenery, bizarre weather, and the perfect spots for exercise and the embrace of creativity. I now have more than 300 pictures added to my library, some of which you will probably see attached to some of my work in the days to come.
I saw a number of places while I was in-state. From bustling downtown Denver, to the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, Red Rocks, Rocky Mountain National Park, and the city of Boulder (about as artsy a town as one might find), among others. Between the sight-seeing and the time spent catching up with family, however, I am proud to say I also accomplished a great deal of work. Both there and on the flight, both in terms of poetry and my novel, I made great headway, and I will be posting the results of the weeks to come.
To start us out, I have a poem inspired by a climb to the heights of the Rocky Mountains where, despite broiling 80 degree temperatures below, a beautiful field of snow awaited, and on the peaks for miles around. A bit breezy, by the way, and I had the brilliant idea of hiking in shorts and a t-shirt. Terrible fun, but a wee bit chilly.
So to begin:
14,000 Feet Above the World
Snowball fights in shorts;
The sun beats down
Atop the world.
Slipping along the rocks
I stumble out to see the world,
And I am Freedom,
Dangling over Nothing
In the summer heat.
The Waking Den 