Tag Archives: adventure

Point of View for The Sunday Whirl Wordle 560

With travel friends in Timor

Point of View

It was a rainy night in March under a Timor moon.
We hunched in cruel misery beneath a wild monsoon.
Around one flickering candle, under a canopy
that formed a refuge for us, strung up from tree to tree.

Travelers all, and young and broke, we stalked a narrow line
creating our own magic with mushrooms, weed and wine,
working our way around the world on impulse and on grit.
Misfortune? Fortune in disguise when we accepted it.

Thus sighs transformed to laughter when shared with kindred mind,
following adventure’s road wherever it might wind.
A sudden thud behind us? Some flinched but others spun
around to see what new adventure came to swell the fun.

 

For The Sunday Whirl Wordle 560 prompts:  library monsoon hunch sigh disguise cruel thud flickering impulse stalk magic line

Jump!

Jump!

The gusto we display toward life does much to enhance
our chances to experience adventure and romance.
If we view with precision everything we do,
evaluating closely and choosing to eschew,
instead of taking chances in discovering new fun,

choosing just to stay home to do what we  have done,
we’ll wast the opportunity to open up our eyes
to all the joys around us that have long been in disguise.

Prompt words today are gusto, enhance. precise and evaluate. Image by Adolfo Felix on Unsplash.

Shelter in Place

Shelter in Place

I’m balanced on the precipice. Should I plunge or not?
I don’t know how to fly, and for sure I won’t be caught.
I’ll be disappointed if I don’t, but frightened if I do.
One says to remain while the other prompts adieu.

Every life decision is a choice between
leaving to see more or staying with what I’ve seen.
Both choices irresistible. Which one do I chose?
Either way I win and either way I lose.

Time and time again I’ve chosen the same choice.
“Be off to your future self” speaks with the loudest voice.
Only now does nature make my choice for me—
instead of changing places, to stay and explore “me.”

 

Words of the day are adieu, plunge, disappointed and precipice.

Proddings

Proddings

I guess that it took gumption to stray so far from home.
Who knows why certain people are driven so to roam?
For certain, curiosity plays a part in it—
a proclivity to action, a resistance to just sit.
A passion to be accurate in finding all their pieces.
A need for further education after school ceases.
But I can’t help but feel that there is more to it than this.
It isn’t only fearing those things that we might miss.
There’s always that small feeling that we do not belong––
that sense of isolation from the local throng.
It is a bit like pushing the odd fledgling from the nest
who does not belong. The other fledglings may know best
who would belong best elsewhere, and speed them on their way.
Odd ducks who display gumption or creative ones must pay.
And in becoming targets, they are prodded to depart
to find other places where they can make their start
to finding who they are in life—places where they can see
all those different people that they might be meant to be.

East Timor, 1973. Off on a long adventure

These word prompts were made use of in the above poem:

RagTag: https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/06/16/rdp-16-target/Target
Daily Addictions:https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/: Accurate
FOWC: https://fivedotoh.com/: Gumption
Weekly Prompts: https://weeklyprompts.com/: Home

Skinny-Dipping

daily life color103

Important note: This is a shape poem , but if you look at it in Reader, it distorts the shape by left margin justifying.  Please click on the title again and you will view it from my blog where it will be centered and you can see the shape.

Skinny-Dipping 

There’s a change in the weather, a shift in the light.
The palm trees are swaying. Three stars shining bright.
The water is cooling, my exercise through.
Clouds cover the moon. I think it’s my cue
to get out of the water before I turn blue,
then clouds shift and the moon turns its usual hue.

The wind stirs the water. I think of past times
ages ago in different climes.
All those past lives, can they really be mine?
If I put experience in a straight line,
could I see the reason for things as they were
as my life sped by–—a perpetual whirr?

What gave me the courage to do what I did
since that time long ago when I was a kid
and took that first journey out on my own,
out of the house across grass newly mown,
fresh from the bathtub, laughing with glee,
nude for the whole world to look out and see.

Running down the sidewalk until I was captured
again by my mother, winded but enraptured
by this one-year-old daughter escaped from her bath,
already set out on her singular path.
So many roadways traveled since then.
So many different lives that have been

tried and discarded in favor of others.
Surrogate fathers and surrogate mothers,
surrogate sisters and friends freshly minted,
plane tickets ordered, paid for and printed.
Travel adventures. Dangers to survive.
Making it through it all still alive.

I come up     from the pool,
dripping and     shivering.

Those few    bold stars
above me    delivering

promises     that I
might still   be a rover.

While there   is breath left,
my life       isn’t over.

 

For V.J.’s Weekly Challenge prompt, shift “Alter your routine in some small way this week.
The idea is not to do something that over taxes your already busy schedule – just something that shifts you enough to make a difference. Or maybe, it won’t. Your response can be in the form of prose, poetry, photograph(s) or whatever moves you.”

The “shift” I did was to go out to the pool and swim and exercise for an hour before writing to her prompt word. The poem above is what resulted.

Found Poetry I

Now that I’m hooked again on “found art” I decided to fantasize about finding shards of poetry along with the objects I find along the way.  This one is silly, and came, somehow, from the WordPress daily prompt “dirt.”

(Click on first picture and arrow to enlarge both photos.)

 

Thirst

(This poem found fastened to a pail
by a spigot on a desert trail.)

When he retired, he bought a yacht
to go and see the things he’d not
seen those years when he’d been caught
behind a desk, perusing naught.

Sailing for years under the mast,
his fishing line he cast and cast––
happier than in the past,
roving over oceans vast.

But when he’d perused all that he
could see of oceans and of sea,
he yearned to visit family
to see once more dirt, hill and tree.

He visited his daughter Sue
to try to see what they could do
their former closeness to renew
while walking out to see the view.

As the day got hot and hotter,
this roving nomad and his daughter
began to reel, began to totter
as they searched for signs of water.

And when they saw the faintest traces,
they quickly livened up their paces,
and falling flat upon their faces,
they drank and drank at the oasis.

The moral of this little tale?
If you choose to furl your sail
to wander over hill and dale,
carry some water in a pail.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/dirty/