| Author |
Message |
canoebear
Member
Post Number: 219
Registered: 05-2004
| | Posted on Sunday, March 20, 2005 - 4:45 pm: | 
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"'Tis Spring"
An interval season of tha year between winter & summer.
A period of time when things grow & appear suddenly, like tha robin.
A term that be at times, in tha nick of time, before winteren cabin/or praire anguuish,
panics much fever.
Be a time when snow ice mix commences to melt.
'Tis a period when rain falls from sky & warm winds blow.
Spring time be a good time to store away army wools, gaitors, pack boots, mittens, snowshoes & wood pull toboggans.
Be a time to trim hair chin cheek whiskers back abit.
Be a time when birds launch sounds in musical tones fresh air.
Spring time be a time when wild things get
under-way & comes to life agin.
'Tis a time fer bugs & flowers to spring-up
& also time when grass turns real green.
Be a time when sun melts thaw into
Bear dens, rooten-out Big Boars to roam.
Be time fer Turtle to burrow-out of
river bottom mud & show sum paint.
'Tis Spring when explorers get-ready to
backpack & canoe camp to tha NE wilds, Heya!
|
paul_hammersten
Member
Post Number: 180
Registered: 03-2004
| | Posted on Monday, March 21, 2005 - 8:25 am: |
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" Tis Spring "
" Be time fer Turtle to burrow-out of
river bottom mud & show sum paint. "
Yes...indeed!!
Best
The Turtle |
canoebear
Member
Post Number: 340
Registered: 05-2004
| | Posted on Sunday, April 23, 2006 - 9:31 am: |
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"Trees a Bliss"
Tha forest trees be a woodland's out-cry
Callen forth onto me.
To entwine in ther wild beauty of nature &
Autumn's flamen rapture,
& to paw with tha yielden make-out breeze.
They clasp my courage with ther fall colored leaves.
Tempted to bring me silently deep with-in,
Tha comeliness & of released freedom
Thay make me feel
'Tis like a sin, Heya Deer Tess!
|
tess
Member
Post Number: 46
Registered: 03-2004
| | Posted on Monday, April 24, 2006 - 6:31 am: |
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this is so lovely...wow...you truly are a gifted wordsmith |
canoebear
Member
Post Number: 348
Registered: 05-2004
| | Posted on Sunday, May 28, 2006 - 6:14 am: |
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"Tha Springtime Breeze"
U can feel when spring is nearen by tha breeze in tha air;
'Tis much warmer than tha breeze we used to share.
New life sprouts like flower in full bloom;
U can tell when spring be comen cause U don't see gloom.
U see new life formen all round 'tis creation;
'Tis beautiful life reminds me of a great inspiration.
Tha trees grow leaves so birds can make nests;
Tha poor Mama bird will never stop to rest.
Tha grass turns green when tha springtime breeze drifts in;
All tha Cubs & Sow Bears will come out of ther winter dens.
Tha sweet water river flows with so much blue;
Waiten fer some-1 to swim in it, like U.
In tha spring, along tha lake, U can watch tha
Otters swim, bob-up & run;
Now U see with tha sringtime breeze comes much fun!
Token remembrance free song;
To Deer Tess & Son,
Heya!
|
tess
Member
Post Number: 49
Registered: 03-2004
| | Posted on Sunday, May 28, 2006 - 7:18 am: |
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Spring inspires birth, renewal, new life…beauty and innocence…courage and survival.
Spring must also mean moving out, moving on, leaving home, migrating.
Bears wake to follow river paths and forest corridors while great blues soar overhead.
Bear connects with Great Spirit and his words flow with the waters weight…on my birth day….at the same time I leave behind deer otter friends and aquatic coldness to migrate towards a birth, renewal, new life away from here.
I cry because of those I leave behind. I smile because I know some will migrate with me.
The Great Spirit follows and speaks when it matters.
My gratitude.
|
wilderneswalker
Member
Post Number: 14
Registered: 06-2004
| | Posted on Tuesday, May 30, 2006 - 11:11 am: |
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Canoe into Night
Can you smell eventide? I can.
Can you truly bathe in moonlight? I have.
Listen...
hear the water tremble kissing the rock shore in ever smaller ripples of passion.
And then...glass... smooth as glass.
The mist eddies and swirls
raising from the lake in the deepening twilight
as if ghost canoes long past cast off again for the wild places.
Look up and wish upon the first star.
Loon song flurries as the paddle laps the water.
Pushing forward.
Then...silence and glide.
Lap...silence and glide.
The black blanket is pulled overhead.
Tiny lights sparkle through the threads.
There is peace here.
There is immeasurable love.
And there is time here.
Above all else, there is time.
|
canoebear
Member
Post Number: 349
Registered: 05-2004
| | Posted on Tuesday, May 30, 2006 - 5:03 pm: |
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"time-honored"
Tha beauty of superior's nature be timeless,
when tha wanderer & time hav convene,
Heya wilderneswalker! |
tess
Member
Post Number: 50
Registered: 03-2004
| | Posted on Wednesday, May 31, 2006 - 5:43 am: |
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Wildernesswalker...what a cute dog! ... and beautiful poem!!
 |
wilderneswalker
Member
Post Number: 16
Registered: 06-2004
| | Posted on Friday, October 13, 2006 - 8:22 pm: |
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Finally back to ottertooth after a long absence. I return to read and catch up with all my favorites...canoebear, tess, paul, hillbilly, etc. You are my lifeline. I'm grateful! Keep writing, keep loving, keep me sane, keep posting! Thanks! |
canoebear
Member
Post Number: 378
Registered: 05-2004
| | Posted on Saturday, October 14, 2006 - 10:20 am: |
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"Just Otter's Barken"
Thru sounds, smells + touch senses
enables us otters to be able to
chirp, chuckle, grunt, scream, whistle
& play to-gether.
Otters R "Tha Symbols of Wetlands".
They R much more playful, curious &
active than most.
Otters spend most of ther time paddlen
in pristine waters & carry-on across land
as well.
We all R much sensitive to on-go-en
changes in our NE American habitat, tooo.
Renee & me spent much time eagerly watchen
Otters playen-out ther lives in tha wild,
'tis Autumn Fall Canadian pack paddle trip,
just a short while ago.
Thanks wilderneswalker fer pat on tha back!
But lets not forget bout tha secretive &
elusive web paws tracks & spraints left on wild river rocks & give high honor to tha true,
NE River Otter, of Brian's Clan.
Brian's under-water vision + sharp claws of grasp
makes Him a smart, strong, sociable & good leader of a large diverse canoe family.
Under fur + guard hairs keeps Him much dry & warm. 'Tis helps Back-up His grace & limberness
to bend a bit, eaten prey head 1st, then discarden tha fish fins aside, Heya!
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wilderneswalker
Member
Post Number: 17
Registered: 06-2004
| | Posted on Saturday, October 14, 2006 - 8:29 pm: |
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Yes indeed canoebear! BIG Gratitude to "NE River Otter, of Brian's Clan! Well said. A hug and wild wilderness smile with wind-born kiss sent to Him too!
Tess? Paul? What's new? Any new compositions, words or music?
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paul_hammersten
Member
Post Number: 262
Registered: 03-2004
| | Posted on Saturday, October 14, 2006 - 8:52 pm: |
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Hi
Been paddling some rough waters of late. My wife had emergency gall bladder surgery last Saturday.
We just watched a neat! movie on DVD called SPIRIT BEAR. It is the story of Simon Jackson and his helping to save the rare white Kermode bears of northern BC.
Best
Paul |
hillbilly
Member
Post Number: 215
Registered: 03-2004
| | Posted on Sunday, October 15, 2006 - 10:47 am: |
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Posting this for those that may not have seen it when post a year ago or so.
I Know a Place
I know a place, that when I am not there, continually calls my name.
I know a place, that when I am not there, everyday, I plan my return.
I know a place that today, remains much the same as the Creator intended.
I know a place, where very few like it exist in this world today.
I know a place that is sacred to First Nations man. A place, where he goes to connect with his creator. A place, where he goes for spiritual guidance and reflection. A place, which he has used for 1000's of years.
I know a place, where I, as modern man, can go. A place, I can go to connect with my Creator. A place, I can go to reflect upon my past, present and future life. A place, I can go for spiritual guidance. A place, I can go to feel connected with First Nations man.
I know a place, where the saw has not been used. A place, as when first seen by European man, is much the same. A place, where the forest has been left alone, untouched by modern man. A place, where the white and red pines can boast, that they are the largest, tallest and oldest. A place, where the trees, can live a natural life. A place, where the trees, can die a natural death.
I know a place, where the closer I get with every paddle stroke, my modern world worries become more distant. A place, where my spirit lifts and starts to renew. A place, where my attitude changes and improves for the better.
I know a place, when I sit quietly; all I will hear is a soft breeze on the pines, water lapping gently on the shore, songbirds singing and the loon's soulful cry. A place, where the sun warms my face and soul. A place, where the air smells fresh and clean, scented with pine. A place, where I am amazed by the stars dancing in the night sky. A place, where there are quiet sounds, serenity and peace. A place, I can meet Mother Nature at her best.
I know a place, where I have sat afraid, listening to the thunder crash so loud and close. A place, where I have watched the lightning illuminate the sky and prayed it did not strike close. A place, where the wind stirs the calm water, making it dangerous and forbidden. A place, where the wind howls as it inflicts its damage upon the pines. A place, that has soaked me through and through with raindrops so thick I could barely see. A place, where I have been chilled to the bone. A place, I can meet Mother Nature at her worst.
I know a place, where my actions and decisions have direct consequences upon my comfort, well being and possibly my survival. A place, that no matter what your station or lot in life, it does not recognize it. A place, that no matter who you are, what you are, how rich you are or how poor you are, it does not care. A place, which does not favour nor discriminate against man or animal. A place, where all are treated equal.
I know a place, where the animals call home. A place, I can go and be fortunate enough to observe them. A place, where the animals, live and die as the Creator intended. A place, where the animals now depend upon modern man for protection and survival.
I know a place, where simple food and fare taste better. A place, where friendships and relationships are more appreciated. A place, where trust, integrity, honesty and hospitality are the measure of the man. A place, where I am more grateful for the simpler of life's pleasures.
I know a place, where modern technology is not required, except in its destruction. A place, where I can go and leave today's technology behind. A place, I can go, to escape cell phones, televisions, radios, ATVs, personnel watercraft and heavy equipment and hopefully not encounter them. A place, where First Nations man's technology, still serves me well.
I know a place, where every paddle stroke is stored in my memory. A memory that is warm, comforting and fond for me. A memory I wish to cherish for my lifetime. A place, that when leaving, I feel saddened but also so grateful for its existence. A place, that when leaving, I anticipate seeing my loved ones.
I know a place, where some modern men view it in a different light. A place, which they only see as a resource to be consumed. A place, where they see the forest and trees as dollars. A place, they do not respect. A place, where its' legacy, heritage and cultural importance to others, falls upon their deaf ears. A place, where its' significant value to the world, they do not recognize. A place, that they will scar and forever change, if allowed to.
I know a place, where there is a Protector. A place, where past generations of his family have lived, have loved, have laughed, have cried, have died and have walked before him. A place, his ancestral land, that is rooted deeply in his soul and being. A place, where he and family now live, resolving to see it kept as he first saw it and as his ancestors first saw it. A place, where he strives to educate modern man into the benefits of leaving this cathedral as it is. A place, that left as is, will be enjoyed by the generations that follow. A place, that once the Protector is gone, I wonder if it will survive.
I know a place, which is first and foremost, the Old Growth Forest of Obabika. A place, that is also, much more than Obabika. A place, that First Nations man called Teme-Augama. A place, which modern man calls Temagami. A place, that is also, everywhere I have paddled and everyplace I dream of paddling.
I know a place, that when I am not there, continually calls my name.
R T
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ghost_brigade
Member
Post Number: 36
Registered: 04-2004
| | Posted on Sunday, October 15, 2006 - 4:05 pm: |
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Hey Paul I hope your wife is feeling better.
All the best Neil
Camped under the canopy of a great pine
songs can be heard and thunder felt.
Sun, wind, rain and snow.
The river flows with the rock
giving to place and time.
Like a ghost, I walk the sodden trails of the forest, river valleys and mountains.
The gift of open space and being.
Moving in mind, body and soul.
Today I travel with the wind in my breast
I listen and feel the spirit.
My craft guides me silently
I need not know my destination.
I wander the ridges, walking the earth, on the clouds, through the rain.
In quest I learn.
Never knowing all never wanting to.
I sit with shamans and spirituality
on routes of commerce and exploration, of understanding and meaning.
Great birds carry the sound of ancient campfires washing over dusk.
Time passes.
Uncomplicated, beautiful.
Soon I will be in my home again with familiar tools and companions.
Forever the brigade travels, until flesh becomes earth. To the breeze it is given, to the sky it is taken. |
hillbilly
Member
Post Number: 216
Registered: 03-2004
| | Posted on Sunday, October 15, 2006 - 5:21 pm: |
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Paul,
Sorry to hear your better half is under the weather. Wish her a speedy recovery from my family and I.
|
wilderneswalker
Member
Post Number: 20
Registered: 06-2004
| | Posted on Wednesday, October 18, 2006 - 10:11 pm: |
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Will send healing wishes upon the warm winds to your lady, Paul. And to the caregiver...you too. Prayers and peacefilled healing.
Hillbilly, Ghost Brigade - really beautiful...I've read both slowly several times and drank deeply the wild places you so graciously shared. Thank you.
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paul_hammersten
Member
Post Number: 264
Registered: 03-2004
| | Posted on Friday, October 20, 2006 - 8:31 am: |
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Thanks ' Otterheads ' for all the well wishes!
Sharon went back to work yesterday and is recovery OK.
This was a humbling experience for both of us. We will have to go light from now on in on the fry bread and Indian tacos canoebear!
Speaking about humbling experiences...we are ready for just about anything now...but...
A MOOSE TAIL
I enjoy a tale tall as much as the next person. In many a gathering of voyageurs I have heard my fair share of “ campfire lies “ and have been known to tell one or two myself. Gobbling ' campfire lies ' like a black bass at sunset is one of my favorite pastimes.
The story I am about to tell you however illustrates the old saying, truth can be stranger than fiction. It also shows how one can canoe with more zeal than wisdom and with a dangerously inflated ego!
You may call me a dude, bluebird, summer voyageur.
Each year throughout the ‘60's and ‘70's, before freeze up at Autumn’s end, I would head for a warm café. There in a cozy booth with a bottomless cup of hot black coffee and “ plenty good smokes “ as Charlot would say, I would settle in for ‘ long snows ‘ with my favorite reads which naturally included the books written by the peerless North Woods author George T. Marsh and illustrated by Frank E. Schoonover.
Not until the Chinooks of Spring stirred my blood would I again head “ to the Regions of the Home Wind, of the Northwest Wind Keewaydin “.
Each Year that is except for 1970 - 71.
The summer of 1970 would not find me in the stern of a Chestnut, E.M.White or Old Town canoe for that was the year I first lived on the Northern Cheyenne Indian Reservation. And during the ‘ long snows ‘ in Montana that winter, although I found a warm café, I no longer drank my coffee black but drank it as did my friend and mentor, the late Northern Cheyenne artist Freddie Seminole, with a splash of canned condensed milk and three tablespoons of sugar. My “ good smokes “ were hand rolled with the tobacco from a Bull Durham pouch and along with my George Marsh stories I eagerly read the Wilderness Canoe Trip Journals others kept during my canoeless summer of 1970.
The journals of the Chibougamau River Trip, July 1970 and the Rupert Tiver Trip, August 1970 were kept by Abbott T. Fenn, the man whose vision led to the creation of Keewaydin Wilderness Trips, Quebec and that outfits first Exploratory Trip of 1963 that provided me with the first hand material for my story entitled “ Follow the Leader “. After he completed his summer trips of 1970, Abby “ hung up his honorable trip leader’s paddle “ having paddled and portaged more than 3000 miles.
Keewaydin Wilderness Trips, Quebec continues to operate to this day providing young men with the opportunity to become summer voyageurs.
In the Rupert River Trip Journal appeared the name of an old friend, Jim Bossum. Jim was the famed Cree guide from Lac St Jean who paddled the lead canoe on the trip of my story “ Follow the Leader “.
The guide for the Rupert River Trip was the equally remarkable Cree canoe man Charlot Gunner from Lake Mistissini. I would trip with Charlot on the 1976 Mistassibi River Trip and his example and encouragement helped my to realize my “ good smokes “ were “ not so good “. How we ‘ kicked the habit ‘ is told in my story “ Three Smokes “.
It was the Chibougamau River Trip Journal which really sparked my interest. I smiled to myself as I read Abby’s entries for Sunday, July 19th and Monday, July 20th for he wrote of a place known to readers of “ Follow the Leader “, the widening of the waters where the Chibougamau River joins the Opawica River to become the Waswanipi River.
The orange crosses we found in 1963 in the settlement at the widening of the waters were no longer there.
I wondered about The Frying Pan. Would the summer voyageurs of 1970 shoot The Frying Pan as we did on the 1963 Keewaydin Exploratory Canoe Trip?
With only two days left to their trip, would their exploits in the last Grand Rapid on the Waswanpi be sung in the Hall of Voyageurs long after mine of 1963 was long forgotten?
Envy?!
Jealousy?!
This time I nead not have feared for as I read further I learned the waters were high that summer and although the “ last rapid was hard to shoot “ it was not so “ Grand “ and the boiling water in The Frying Pan that we knew so well.
Abby next wrote in his journal about what the canoe tripper found after shooting the rapid, “ We saw a small bull moose along the shore. “
While visualizing this scene, I knew what I must do to never again be in doubt as the “ greatness “ of my own voyageur exploits.
You see Abby previously wrote in his journal in the beginning of their trip on the third day out the summer voyageurs of 1970 paddled within 200 yards of a cow moose. Abby wrote, “ Larry [ the assistant trip leader ] says he’ll ride a swimming moose. We have one plan of attack all set up. Larry will hop into the middle of Matthew’s [ the Cree guide ] canoe for delivery to the moose and Abby will hop into the middle of another canoe to take pictures. These pictures will then be so unique that we will all share in a tidy sum when we sell them to TV. Matthew spotted the moose long before the rest of us - a mile or more away. “
Four days latter Matthew found a swimming bull moose as the trippers were occupied with their Ross canoe [ one we had new on the 1963 trip - but that is another story! ] that had broken up on a rock in the big rapid they were shooting. Matthew couldn’t catch up with the moose and Larry never rode one but I resolved that winter’s day as I was holed up in the Lame Deer Café a cold forty degrees below zero outside, I would ride a moose!
Such a coup would forever assure me a place in the ‘ Honorable Company of Voyageurs ‘
or so I believed with the twisted thinking of a young egotistical and over zealous canoe tripper eager to make his mark.
There - I have told you the why of the tale. The when, where and with whom of the tale are private knowledge known only to a few. Now this is what happened.
We were in the middle of the river paddling down stream in a wood and canvas canoe when we came upon a moose swimming across the river. The current was swft but there were no rips. The water was black and deep.
Sonny was in the stern. I paddled bow.
We cut the moose off midstream by paddling between it and the bank he was heading for. We slapped the water with our beaver tail paddles causing the moose to turn and swim down stream with the current.
We dropped back and drifted along behind the moose.
As Sonny Boy kept the canoe steady, I jumped from the canoe onto the moose’s back. I figured I would ride the moose for a few minutes then drop off. With my twisted thinking at the time, I at least realized the last place I wanted to be was on the back of the moose when he made it to shore.
It wasn’t until years later, while tripping in Glacier Park, Montana and then again during one of my trips in Alaska, I read accounts of moose actually winning fights with bears by striking them, like the wild horses we saw fighting in the Pryor Mountains of Montana, with their big front hooves.
I rode horses in Montana and one bull. When I came down on the moose I clamped him with my knees just as I did in my bull riding career that lasted all of two seconds - about the same length of time I swam with the moose.
The moose headed for shore the moment he felt me on his back and then turned to have a look at me. When he did, one antler blade swept across his back. I slipped of into the water before it could gouge me. As I did I felt the moose’s tail pass through my hand!
Sonny was right there with the canoe but before I could get back in the river suddenly became shallow and the moose found his footing and turned and drove a front hoof through the bow of the canoe.
Sonny jumped into the water with me. As we watched our canoe slowly fill with water the moose made it to shore and ran into the willows that lined the bank.
With his crooked knife Sonny fashioned new ribs and planking and with supplies in our
repair kit I was able to patch the hole in the canvas.
Forever humbled, I never ever even contemplated riding a swimming moose again!
Best
The Turtle |
wilderneswalker
Member
Post Number: 21
Registered: 06-2004
| | Posted on Sunday, October 22, 2006 - 12:48 pm: |
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Awesome moose tale! Only encounter I've ever had with a moose was hiking in the Presidentials down USA way in New Hampshire. Turning a step around boulders on the side of a mountain to come face to face with 8' tall hairy nose attached to antlers and frightened eyes. Flattened up against said boulder in seconds while hairy nose disappeared around the rock in the other direction with a snort sounding like a canon. Listened to the crash of underbrush and stood panting (me) for a few seconds before I got my nerve up to look around to see where he may have gone. Fast! He was already across a gorge and halfway up the other side still hauling it for everything he was worth. (I didn't think I looked that scary - well, maybe) Anyway, I marveled at the destruction left in his wake. Glad he went the way he did. |
rob_in_angus
Member
Post Number: 17
Registered: 06-2006
| | Posted on Sunday, October 22, 2006 - 2:20 pm: |
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The presidential range is a spectaculr place I hope to visit again someday. |
paul_hammersten
Member
Post Number: 265
Registered: 03-2004
| | Posted on Monday, October 23, 2006 - 5:59 pm: |
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wilderneswalker...happy you enjoyed my moose tale.
I never hiked the Presidentials but have spent many enjoyable stays at the MOUNT WASHINGTON HOTEL after they winterized.
I liked reading about your moose encounter...be careful!
Moose do not backup but only move forward....is that true...anyone?
Best
Paul |
wilderneswalker
Member
Post Number: 23
Registered: 06-2004
| | Posted on Sunday, November 26, 2006 - 10:08 am: |
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Hey Rob-in-angus,
Tell me a bit about your visit to the Presidentials when you get a moment of spare time. You mentioned in your post in Oct. that you hope to visit "again" someday. When were you there and what was the occassion(s)? |
canoebear
Member
Post Number: 401
Registered: 05-2004
| | Posted on Tuesday, January 9, 2007 - 4:11 pm: |
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"low-snow/or no-snow"
'Tis another much brown winter, hey.
winter will come
& winter will go
& through it all
no damn snow
wanna pack-in to snowshoe
& follow/or pick-up wildcat tracks
but here I be
& here I stay-put, till all hall freeze over
looks to me like tha snow ain't gonna fly
cause too much heat & sunlight overhead.
Winter enthusiasts struggle with-out no snow.
But tha absence of snow leaves tha outdoors wilds be-en deprived of tha muffled quiet coveren, left-out.
Late February hope enter tha northland
to chase down luminous bands of flashen
& moven lights that can be seen in tha night
sky over Superior.
Not all is at a loss,
I can still keep ear to tha lingeren winds
which tells + carries tha secret of cat cry maten tunes with-in tha twilight, Heya! |
tess
Member
Post Number: 64
Registered: 03-2004
| | Posted on Friday, June 1, 2007 - 7:43 am: |
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I am rooted; still, I flow. |
canoebear
Member
Post Number: 410
Registered: 05-2004
| | Posted on Friday, June 1, 2007 - 6:27 pm: |
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"drift current"
When Autumn leaves all hav fallen,
into tha tha wild river flow,
leaves departed river birch trees, all behind.
Tha ebb & flow of energy sweeps downed
coloured leaves maken them float, far far away,
away from ther root stems.
Tha current flow directs a decissive progressive
hand to lifes actions, when it's natural be-en 'tis irretrievable, when under it's power source of control, be destined.
Pathways of motion thru space always
makes much headway along tha lines of
least resistance.
Go with tha flow, hall, I don't no!
"Chance/or Choice"!
"'Tis fate that winds cause water course to change, & as she whirls, all of her out-pours"!
By Focusen on 1's clear pristine shinnen waters,
1 wood fer-ever still be able to tune-in to ther nothern wilderness surroundens.
Look fer play-en around river otters, fer they will bring 1 happiness, good fortune, enjoyment
& tenderness with-in.
Best not to let life float away, keep a watershed awareness fer inner peace.
Calm waters display mirrored refection of rainbows & still DEER up-current, Heya !
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canoebear
Member
Post Number: 411
Registered: 05-2004
| | Posted on Sunday, June 3, 2007 - 6:41 am: |
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"'Twas Deer Tess on Other Side"
Canoe camped ther, on tha wild river waters edge, just watchen tha movement of current flow. Down, down round tha rocky bend & on tha move.
Primative & untamed as it ripples on thru.
Feelen desirable winds of soothen breeze as
tha runnen surge & rolls.
Flowen along, just as moven river water goes.
Ready fer what tha rivers, riddle of life be.
May-be its just lifes trial, of waden-in & crossen-over be/or meant, not to be.
Standen very still, frozen in time, while tha rest of natural NE woodlands moves & carries-on.
Owls hoot, wildcats cry-out, wolves howl & Turdles prod up-stream duren 'tis full moon lit night.
River reflections from tha other side uncovers & exposes a lovely face that, She can't hide.
Standen ther like a still Deer, never-tha-less, on tha other side.
Beautiful silhouette in a soothen peaceful-way, like a refreshen nights breeze, gone astray.
Waveren ther amongst tha bare birch trees.
Still, as still, wood be.
Just as both of us watch descenten flow flux
journeyen-on away.
'Tis at tha center, of 'tis moven body which links us together, with-in a much serene harmony.
A night of silence scene can fer sur stir tha heart with more pain than mere words impart & leaven both breathless, standen still.
Held much captive by ther own free will.
Tha moon 'twas blue, as blue wood be,
as we wait fer our wanderen hillbilly , Heya!
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tess
Member
Post Number: 66
Registered: 03-2004
| | Posted on Sunday, June 3, 2007 - 8:44 pm: |
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You are scents carried sweetly on wind's breath caressing, me, and all who dare let you in.
You are beautiful mindful ephemeral...Heya, }Canoebear.....
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sundown
Member
Post Number: 122
Registered: 04-2007
| | Posted on Sunday, June 3, 2007 - 10:52 pm: |
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To not dare, is to not live... is it not?
so much have I missed, across so many rivers
I might have swum...
and never feared to swim,
but chose wrongly, perhaps...
just not to swim...
or, perhaps I just drowned in those I chose...?
Swum as valiantly as those not swum-would-have-been-swum...
A man cant swim enough rivers, i reckin?
but, I dont think thats how it was... honestly.
All I know, is the skin stayed dry and the open
side of the canoe stayed up,
and I might have had worse realities, i reckin,
with other choices and worse results. I hope.
But, the tragedy might be I will never know, too?
Time is but a paper moon.
I dont know much 'bout scents carried sweetly,
but, the Tapu-Tane does have-a-way-with-a-wurd,
and, ephemeral... yeah, I agree.
Spin us us a Toosday verse on Mundaze day, you lived, Canoebear? If you would ?
Sundown |
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Off-topic