Senor Garcia is the name of this dormant volcanic mountain.
Easy to admire
but impossible to climb.
One more futile goal.
Futile Enticement, for August Poetry Challenge.
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Tag Archives: mountain climbing poem
Poor Sport
Poor Sport
From the Rockies to the Tetons, I’ve avoided climbing rocks.
They crumble as I climb them and wind up in my socks.
I do not like their labyrinths that make you find a way
to snake up on their surface without a game of play.
Don’t expect me to climb mountains. Don’t even think to ask.
I’ll sit here in the shade and watch and sip upon my flask!
Prompts for today are labyrinth, snake, flask and Tetons.
That’s me back in 1973. I didn’t climb mountains then, either. You can tell by the shoes. This was taken in Lalibela, Ethiopia, a very mountainous place. Didn’t make any difference. I flew in on a tiny plane and rode a mule up one or two. That’s as far as I went.
Proof of a Wild Mountain Walk (A Wild Redemption)
Trail
Abandoned sneakers crown a pile of drying palm fronds, as though they’ve been parted from their legs much as the palm fronds have been severed from their trees.
form walls
on either side,
then
way
to stalks
of purple blooms with saffron tongues
The white bands of butterflies striped like zebras announce their presence in the shade,
In the path lies the circular mounded artistry of ants that signals that new and private world they’ve cleared out for themselves below.
turns me homewards,
turning into soil.
and cobblestones
The runoff from last night’s rain shoots from the drain that pierces a high stone wall.
Happy face
that was here before we came, has been here all along,
and will remain after we leave. This is the more constant truth of the world, and I return home to create a reminder of it.
Click on first photo to enlarge all photos. The poem it illustrates has been edited in this version. To see poem in its entirety, go HERE.
Mountaineer
Mountaineer
I am a mountain waiting to be climbed,
its slopes slippery and rough
with fortifications.
This poem is the face
I am inviting you to scale,
not taking the clearly defined path
that prose would provide,
but a harder course with handholds and footholds
that will not give way if you
use your mind to select a wise course.
If I did not trust you so, I would give you a secure railing
like one provided in showers and bathtubs
for the elderly;
but I know, if you have made it this far,
that you have the stamina to make it on your own.
Every mind is a majestic mountain waiting to be climbed
and also a climber sometimes bent on climbing,
at other times, content
to stand at the mountain’s base,
waiting for the scree to come to him.
This is a rewrite of an earlier poem For dVerse poets pub. Majestic
Mountaineer
I am a mountain waiting to be climbed,
its slopes slippery and rough
with fortifications.
Each poem is the face I am inviting you to scale,
not taking the clearly defined path
that prose would provide,
but a harder course with handholds and footholds
that will not give way if you
use your mind to select a wise course.
If I did not trust you so, I would give you a secure railing
like one provided in showers and bathtubs
for the elderly;
but I know, if you have made it this far,
that you have the stamina to make it on your own.
Every mind is both a mountain waiting to be climbed
and a climber sometimes bent on climbing,
at other times, content
to stand at the mountain’s base,
waiting for the scree to come to him.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “I Am a Rock.”— Is it easy for you to ask for help when you need it, or do you prefer to rely only on yourself? Why?
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 