Poetry Page VIII…


The chase certainly has inspired some great poetry…

Here is page III for poetry about the chase, Forrest or any other Thrill of the Chase related topic. I am hoping poets will create new poetry and place it on this page.

If you would like to peruse theΒ Β verse on the first page of poetry clickΒ HERE.

Second page isΒ HERE

Third page is HERE

Fourth page is HERE

Fifth Page is HERE

Sixth Page is HERE

Seventh Page is HERE



603 thoughts on “Poetry Page VIII…

  1. Birds of a feather gather together,
    As once again we did await
    A new beginning for tales we’re spinning
    Thanks Dal for Poetry Page VIII !!!

    And a very Happy Birthday to Forrest Fenn πŸ™‚

  2. (Posting Test.)

    by Joanna Fuchs

    Thank you…
    for thinking of me
    and then wondering
    how you could help.
    Thank you…
    for doing what you did,
    instead of being too busy,
    or just forgetting about it.
    Thank you…
    For inking me
    on your priority to-do list,
    when you have
    so many other things to do;
    I am honored;
    It meant a lot to me.
    Thank you.

    This poem is for Dal and Goofy for helping me post again. Thank you so much for your help. I greatly appreciate it. It’s nice to be heard once more. πŸ™‚

  3. Look Who gave me so much juicy material to go on,,,

    He’s there when Denise Austin comes to call,
    Commercially speaking, of course.
    Though recently he’s gone from just plain to type A,
    On the blog he’s a kindly force.

    A garrison, boonie, or 8 point cover
    Perhaps at one time topped his head.
    With an oorah, he gave all that up
    And soon turned to electronics instead.

    Now he’s a Fenner and good friend to all,,,
    His words could become set in stone.
    And when he decides to put boots on the ground
    He’ll probably go in there alone πŸ™‚

  4. The Summer Rain
    by Henry David Thoreau

    “This bed of herd’s grass and wild oats was spread
    Last year with nicer skill than monarch’s use.
    A clover tuft is pillow for my head,
    And violets quite overtop my shoes.

    And now the cordial clouds have shut all in,
    And gently swells the wind to say all’s well;
    The scattered drops are falling fast and thin,
    Some in the pool, some in the flower-bell.

    I am well drenched upon my bed of oats;
    But see that glove come rolling down its stem,
    Now like a lonely planet there it floats,
    And now it sinks into my garment’s hem.

    Drip drip the trees for all the country round,
    And richness rare distills from every bough;
    The wind alone it is makes every sound,
    Shaking down crystals on the leaves below.”

  5. Very nice pdenver, thank you πŸ™‚

    ,,,good thing I wasn’t laying out in the rain with my head in the clover this past weekend. I may have drowned.

    • You’re welcome. Getting rain? I know too much isn’t good, but not enough isn’t good either. The crystal globes seem to be missing where I live. The weather whispers Fall is just around the corner and shortly the white fluff calls. Already fell in higher elevations.

  6. ” See Ya ”

    Before the Spanish came, into the northern lands,

    Natives lived in harmony, across the arid sands.

    They also lived in peace, across the mountains wide,

    From snow caps to the desert, the Indians lived with pride.

    Their daily life was hardened, hunting for their meals,

    The hunters fed the tribes, with their daily kills.

    Women made their pots of clay, to carry water in,

    Children carried firewood, that’s how it was back then.

    The braves they gave protection, and sometimes gave their life,

    The elders gave their wisdom, craftsmen made their knifes.

    The land it gave them healing, in many different herbs,

    Spirits above would listen, to their native words.

    They lived their life in harmony, and each would do their part,

    The pride within the Indians, sowed deep within their hearts.

    With their nightly fires aglow, the embers rising red,

    They’d whisper to the heavens, before they went to bed.

    With the early morning light , they’d do it all again,

    Living their life in peace, that’s how it was back then.

    Maybe we could learn , from the long lost Indians ,

    And live our lives in harmony, just like our native friends.

    If each of us would take the time, and do our selfless part,

    Then we could live in peace, with pride within our hearts.

    To all my native friends, who lived so long ago,

    You are not forgotten, see ya , I gotta go………..

    By: Focused

  7. Im glad you like my stories cindym, the native indians intrest me, i guess thats why i write so much about them. As for where i live, i live in arkansas surrounded by hardwoods , mountains and lakes…..no pueblos in my neck of the woods.. how about you, where do you live ? Have a great day my friend….see ya

  8. Wander
    by Heather Ross

    Walk in the way of wander
    No destination in mind,
    Where will the soles travel
    On the path undefined.
    To stride without purpose
    No timing to reach,
    Is the dream and desire
    Of true freedom that speaks.
    Exploration lacking agenda
    Is the expression of the strong,
    Along the travels of the unknown
    To oneself our senses belong.
    Alone to inner thoughts
    Is needed for a season,
    Add four soles to a journey
    When the timing gives reason.

  9. All…I am aware of some modern day indians who practice gathering in the early mornings to discuss their dreams from the night before. Much collective insight is gained because the unconscious mind makes note of many seemingly inconsequential daily details.

  10. CindyM

    Responding to your aug.25th 1:35 pm comment

    I retired in 2012 and worked with special needs kids
    and a driver to and from pearl buck programs
    best fun I ever had
    our own kids were grown up by then
    and have a angel of our own who still lives with us.
    27 years old.
    you are fun to read.
    the poet in you keeps me smiling


  11. Colorado Sky
    by Andrew Blakemore

    Like paradise upon this earth
    Its wonders to behold,
    A gateway to the wilderness
    Where all my dreams unfold,
    The changing of its colours as
    The clouds go floating by,
    Above the Rocky Mountains in
    The Colorado sky.

    The mighty river flowing in
    The valley of the pine,
    The shooting star in meadows on
    A summer’s day so fine,
    The forest is alive with song
    I watch the bluebirds fly,
    Above the rugged landscape in
    The Colorado sky.

    The seasons change so quickly yet
    Its precious soul remains,
    As wind does bring the snowfalls there
    upon the mighty plains,
    To see the snow-capped mountains with
    Their peaks that reach so high,
    Beneath the fiery sunsets in
    The Colorado sky.

  12. ” Thank You Forrest ”

    Today I looked upon the blogs, and got the saddened news,

    Forrest has put some distance, away from me and you.

    Even though we all will miss his words, I will respect his choice,

    Thank you Forrest for the “Chase”, and the wisdom in your voice.

    You and Peggy enjoy your time, make the most of every day,

    Go relax within your back yard, and watch Tesuque play.

    Forrest you have gave us, new adventures in our life,

    Now enjoy your time with Peggy, your understanding wife.

    I know I speak for all of us, each and every one,

    Thanks for getting us off the couch, and out to smell the sun.

    Thank you for the smiles, you placed upon our face,

    Most of all thank you Forrest, for your “Thrill Of The Chase “……..

    By: Focused

  13. Dear Forrest,

    Here is a list of fun things to keep you busy when you are not knee deep in TTOTC,,,

    List (Part 1)

    As you wake up every morning,
    Just leave your ear buds out,,,
    So when people want to gripe at you
    They’ll have to scream and shout.

    If you should need to pass some time.
    Remember this little game,,,
    Look others straight in the eye
    And call them by the wrong name.

  14. List (Part2)

    When it comes to chore time
    Choose your room with all the bells,,,
    Tell them you’re in your “easy” chair
    And leave the hard tasks to someone else.

    If a pesky person comes to call,
    Sing “No phone, no pool, no pests”,,,
    Loudly as old Roger Miller may have done
    When dealing with unwanted guests.

    At lunchtime, always turn up your nose,
    And don’t be a compliant fellow,,,
    Tell them you want chocolate cake for dessert,
    Not hardened raspberry jello.

  15. List (Part 3)

    Be sure to squirt the passers by
    when youre out watering the grass.
    Tell them it’s a wet tshirt contest,,,
    They have to play to pass.

    And if you’re ever feeling poorly,
    Remember this as well,,,
    Let everyone know you’re still your boss
    It can be fun to give ’em h_ll πŸ™‚

    Very Truly Yours,

  16. Aha moments, oh yes, I’ve had many.
    So much so, I can’t trust any.
    Every time I smack my head,
    In the journal I keep next to my bed,
    I write it down then dig in,
    But where on earth am I ‘sposed to begin?
    I try to make sense of it,
    But I lose my battle, to wit.
    Not ever,
    Will I quit trying,
    Not even when my brain is frying.
    I can’t help myself, you see,
    The “Chase” is now a part of me.
    The words in the poem like tracks,
    With twists and turns and
    Keep me entertained and still,
    Fill my soul with the “Thrill”.
    I’ve found a way to a dream,
    Not the same, boring, old theme.
    I guess only time will tell,
    If any “aha’s” ring a bell.
    So I ‘spose, id better pay mind,
    There’s a treasure out there to find!

    • Great penning jdiggins….

      I too jdiggins am in the same boat,

      Adrift on a ocean, just staying afloat.

      The poems a current, no oars in my hand,

      It carries me onward, thanks to the man.

      Someday you’ll see, a bird upon flight,

      It’ll lead you to land, where You’ll welcome the sight.

      You drift not alone, your drifting with friends,

      Hoping someday, your ship will come in.

      But first we must start, where the currents begin,

      Keep looking for land, my trusty ole friend.

      And if you drift, to that magical place,

      Please remember your friends, with a smile on your face………

      By: Focused

      See ya my friend…..

      • How could I not smile with friends like you and cindy, pd, spallies, straw, oh geeze, I shoulda never started names cuz then I feel bad to leave anyone out because truly, all you folks here make me smile. Truth. πŸ™‚

      • I got a kite to catch the wind,
        That takes you down then back again.
        But the current still shows who’s boss,
        When the sail goes poof! And over I toss!

        • The pirates they drift , the same waters as you,

          With vessels so heavy, with gold bullions too.

          They stash it on islands, bury it deep,

          To someday return, their treasures to keep.

          But they do not know, your drifting about,

          Upon finding their loot, you’ll carry it out.

          Jdiggins start fanning, your hanging ole sail,

          And show them darn pirates, that you will prevail.

          Snatch all their loot, make you some wind,

          Im cheering you onward, go get it my friend….

          See ya…


          • I like this one. Penning seems so easy for you. I’m glad. I’m still trying to think of one, but not sure if I can post when I do. Sometimes I can. Other times I can’t. This comment may be too long and may not post.

          • I’ll be going thar yonder, one way or another.
            Sooner or later, alone or with other.

            I believe I know the when and how,
            And that has evaded me till now.

            I even thing I found a who, a why, and even a where,
            But first I’ve gotta place my anchor out there.
            I’ve got a big ball of string too,
            Now if I could figure out just what to do! πŸ™‚

  17. ” The Move ”

    I’ve been living in a crow tribe, all my twenty years,

    I’ve seen my people smile, I’ve seen them shed their tears.

    I’m packing my belongings, tomorrow we must move,

    Water it is scarce, and we haven’t any food.

    We’ll bundle up our teepee’s, when we take them down,

    And drag them to another place, a wet and hallow ground.

    The buffalo here have grazed, across these parries wide,

    Now we must go find them, just so we’ll survive.

    With the early morning light, I gently raise my head,

    Raise up to my feet, and in hunger roll my bed.

    I look out of my teepee, my people move about,

    I go and help an elder, to take their fine home down.

    I look up to the heavens, the sky above is blue,

    A great day to be moving, I know what I should do.

    Now the sun is higher, our village it is packed,

    Upon a gentle rise, no ones looking back.

    Over hills we travel, and through the valleys wide,

    Looking for the buffalo, wherever they might hide.

    Way off in the distant a dark cloud starts to form,

    Lightning strikes the ground, one single little storm.

    All day long we traveled, my people they are tired,

    We stop and make a camp, we started several fires.

    When the sun comes up, we’ll do it all again,

    Hoping for a place, that we can call the end.

    For days we traveled onward, we top a grassy rise,

    In the valley before us, I can’t believe my eyes.

    The buffalo they are grazing, at least two hundred head,

    I know our journeys over, this place we make our beds.

    With our teepee’s raised, we’ll call this place our home,

    As long down in the valley, the herds of buffalo roam.

    I speak up to the heavens, and thank our mighty spirit,

    With thunder in the distant, I know that he can hear it.

    I live within a crow tribe, in a vast and spiritual land,

    A rainbow in the distant, wouldn’t change it if I can………..

    By: Focused

    P.s. – No not speechless CindyM… This one is for you… I hope you like it.
    See ya my friend….

  18. My daughter, Sarah

    I remember the day when you were born.
    I hear your cry and “It’s a girl!”
    In my arms, bundled and warm.
    Lying upon my chest.

    I remember when you were five.
    Beginning kindergarten and standing in line.
    A wave goodbye as you walked inside.
    Wiping the tears from my eyes.

    I remember when you were twelve.
    Polishing your nails and wearing lip gloss.
    Music playing in your room.
    Hearing you sing along.

    I remember when you were fifteen.
    High school friendships and challenges.
    Learning about life and love.
    As I wiped away your tears.

    Soon you will be eighteen.
    A lovely young woman you’ve become.
    How did the years go by so quickly?
    Now they’re treasured in my heart.

  19. πŸ™‚
    That is so beautiful pdenver, it brings tears to my eyes,,, as it would to anyone who’s ever had a daughter or been a daughter.

    Thanks for sharing. Those teenage daughter years can be a bit bumpy πŸ˜€

  20. ” My Daughter ”

    Through many joyful learning years,

    Her knees got scrapped I wiped her tears,

    Small table in her room for tea,

    My feathered hat, she pours for me.

    In her teens I must confess,

    She tried and put me through the test.

    From prom night leaving her friend,

    I knew that someday this would end.

    I know my child , here by my side,

    Will someday spread her wings and fly.

    The memories I’ll keep, throughout the years,

    I’ll look at them through salty tears.

    We finally made that drive to town,

    To help her find, that perfect gown.

    She glances over, from the book,

    I give a smile, and an approving look.

    I know that on her special day,

    Her Dad will walk, and give her away.

    The tears I’ll shed, and so will he,

    Just seeing the woman, she’s came to be.

    Time like these, are bitter sweet,

    She’ll do just fine on her two feet.

    And if you read these words my girl,

    We love your dearly , go find your world…….

    By: Focused

    P.s.- pdenver I told you my next poem was for you, well here it is, I hope it fits the moment…. See ya my friend……..

  21. ” My Daughter ”

    Through many joyful learning years,

    Her knees got scrapped I wiped her tears,

    Small table in her room for tea,

    My feathered hat, she pours for me.

    In her teens I must confess,

    She tried and put me through the test.

    From prom night leaving with her friend,

    I knew that someday this would end.

    I know my child , here by my side,

    Will someday spread her wings and fly.

    The memories I’ll keep, throughout the years,

    I’ll look at them through salty tears.

    We finally made that drive to town,

    To help her find, that perfect gown.

    She glances over, from the book,

    I give a smile, and an approving look.

    I know that on her special day,

    Her Dad will walk, and give her away.

    The tears I’ll shed, and so will he,

    Just seeing the woman, she’s came to be.

    Time like these, are bitter sweet,

    She’ll do just fine on her own two feet.

    And if you read these words my girl,

    We love your dearly , go find your world…….

    By: Focused

    P.s.- pdenver I told you my next poem was for you, well here it is, I hope it fits the moment…. See ya my friend……..
    I fixed the mistakes and reposted…….sorry

      • Your welcome my friend… im glad you liked it, i thought of you and sarah when i wrote it…..have a great day.. until next time…see ya

      • pdenver

        Yes focused did it again with a beautiful poem.
        I should get on here more often,
        when I get a new computer that does what I want it to.
        I love all your poetry, and all the others on here also.
        this poetry page is the only page that is positive on Dals blogs, which draws positive people,
        so a poem I will write ,, may take me awhile
        I read everyones poems and get a spark of enlightenment in each and every one.


  22. Looking down…

    When I was young…yes, like any child
    And then…so much closer…to the ground
    Shiny coins, soft feathers…and pretty leaves
    Were just some of the Treasures…that I found

    But…when I was bigger…yes, all grown up
    Moving with a purpose…in such a hurry
    Not looking down…just right ahead
    Missing life at my feet…gone in a flurry

    And so…as my rush and my pace…lessened
    Taking the time to…now see all around
    Finding Treasures anew…again looking down
    Wonders beside me…waiting…yes, to be found

    Wishing everyone special “moments” on this upcoming Holiday Weekend!

    • Great job Ellen ! Also while looking down you see what has carried you through so many memories…. keep looking down my friend… have a great day, until next time…. see ya

    • Thank You, everyone who posts here, here is where I go when I need a positive moment. Someday soon I’ll contribute again, until then here’s a poem I found in a museum in Cripple Creek, Colorado that I thought was special. A few months before in northern Colorado I stumbled across a small cemetery with maybe fifty headstones and all were children from infancy to teen years. A reminder just how harsh the old west could be.

      I looked in the brook and saw a face –
      Heigh-ho, but a child was I!
      There were rushes and willows in that place,
      And they clutched at the brook as the brook ran by;
      And the brook it ran its own sweet way,
      As a child doth run in heedless play,
      And as it ran I heard it say:
      “Hasten with me
      To the roistering sea
      That is wroth with the flame of the morning sky!”

      I look in the brook and see a face –
      Heigh-ho, but the years go by!
      The rushes are dead in the old-time place,
      And the willows I knew when a child was I.
      And the brook it seemeth to me to say,
      As ever it stealeth on its way –
      Solemnly now, and not in play:
      “Oh, come with me
      To the slumbrous sea
      That is gray with the peace of the evening sky!”

      Heigh-ho, but the years go by –
      I would to God that a child were I!

      Eugene Field :

  23. The golden-rod is yellow;
    The corn is turning brown;
    The trees in apple orchards
    With fruit are bending down.

    The gentian’s bluest fringes
    Are curling in the sun;
    In dusty pods the milkweed
    Its hidden silk has spun.

    The sedges flaunt their harvest,
    In every meadow nook;
    And asters by the brook-side
    Make asters in the brook.

    From dewy lanes at morning
    The grapes’ sweet odors rise;
    At noon the roads all flutter
    With yellow butterflies.

    By all these lovely tokens
    September days are here,
    With summer’s best of weather,
    And autumn’s best of cheer.

    But none of all this beauty
    Which floods the earth and air
    Is unto me the secret
    Which makes September fair.

    T’is a thing which remember;
    To name it thrills me yet:
    One day of one September
    I never can forget.”

    Helen Hunt Jackson, September

  24. Try to Remember

    Lyrics by Tom Jones and Harvey Schmidt

    “Try to remember the kind of September
    When life was slow and on so mellow…”

    Enjoy the days of September, Everyone. May they be slow and mellow.

  25. Busy September “Poetry Page”…thank you jdiggins, pdenver and Focused for your kind comments…

    Strawshadow…I enjoyed the poem (Brook) you shared and also reading up on the author (Eugene Field) and his works, not knowing he was thought of as the “poet of childhood”.

    pdenver…ahhh September! Thanks for the “Try to Remember” connection. I also immediately heard Neil Diamond’s “September Morn”….”Still can make me feel that way” AND from my college days…The Happenings (1966) singing…

    “See You in September”…

    • Thanks SL…I remember Ed Ames well. Although I was fortunate to see a number of Broadway/off Broadway shows in the 60’s…I missed seeing the Fantasticks.

      Ed Ames was also part of the 1950’s group (Ames Brothers); was forever captured in a clip of the 1965 Johnny Carson Show – where he threw a tomahawk; and mostly (my favorite)…in the TV show “Daniel Boone” – where he played Mingo (Caramingo) and for a few seasons…his evil twin (Taramingo).

  26. The Village Blacksmith
    by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

    Under a spreading chestnut-tree
    The village smithy stands;
    The smith, a mighty man is he,
    With large and sinewy hands;
    And the muscles of his brawny arms
    Are strong as iron bands.

    His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
    His face is like the tan;
    His brow is wet with honest sweat,
    He earns whate’er he can,
    And looks the whole world in the face,
    For he owes not any man.

    Week in, week out, rom morn till night,
    You can hear his bellows blow;
    You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
    With measured beat and slow,
    Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
    When the evening sun is low.

    And children coming home from school
    Look in at the open door;
    They love to see the flaming forge,
    And hear the bellows roar,
    And catch the burning sparks that fly
    Life chaff from a threshing-floor.

    He goes on Sunday to the church,
    And sits among his boys;
    He hears the parson pray and preach,
    He hears his daughter’s voice,
    Singing in the village choir,
    And it makes his heart rejoice.

    It sounds to him like her mother’s voice,
    Singing in paradise!
    He needs must think of her once more,
    How in the grave she lies;
    And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
    A tear out of his eyes.

    Toiling,- – rejoicing,- -sorrowing,
    Onward through life he goes;
    Each morning sees some task begin,
    Each evening sees it close
    Something attempted, something done,
    Has earned a night’s repose.

    Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
    For the lesson thou hast taught!
    Thus at the flaming forge of life
    Our fortunes must be wrought;
    Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
    Each burning deed and thought.

    Happy Labor Day.

  27. Alone
    I have traveled many places,
    with awe my eyes did see,
    did not share the sites I have seen,
    family saw selfish in me.
    am I selfish,, am I selfish?
    I do not own a camera.


  28. ” Spring ”

    In the morning sun,

    Frost upon a daffodil,

    Springtime emerges.

    Hey Zenden, here is a haliku for you…..my favorite time of year… I love it when life emerges from the dead greys of winter…. Have a great day Zenden and keep on penning… See ya

  29. Hurry

    I thought I was the only one in a hurry,
    Til’ I met a hummingbird that was seemingly worried.
    A closer look I took,
    It’s when I realized,
    That more than meets the eye goes on in a hummingbird’s life.
    There hearts beat fast,
    And they think fast too.
    But every once in a while you see one rest,
    And that my friends is the best.
    Still and patient, they chirp their song.
    As unknowing humans walk by in the sun.


  30. ” The Scout ”

    In the year of 1860 , I was riding on my horse,

    Scouting for the Navajo, trying to plot a course.

    I ride up to the Mesa top, where I can see the land,

    Walk over to the edge, I can see the desert span.

    Way off in the distant, there’s rising camp fire smoke,

    Looks like a camp of white men, all wearing dark blue coats.

    They’ve brought with them their rifles, also their bloody wrath,

    I must go back and warn them, and change our dangerous path.

    As I ride up to my tribe, the chief he welcomes me,

    I tell him of the camp ahead, and everything I’ve seen.

    Now it’s up to him, the leader of us all,

    The choice now he must make, for the safety of us all.

    Our chief begins to speak, while sitting on his horse,

    He says we’ll ride into the sun, and slightly change our course.

    Again I take off riding, the sun glaring in my eyes,

    Slowly they ride behind me, hoping for no surprise.

    I ride along the river, until the sun is low,

    No sign of the invaders, wearing their blue coats.

    When I reached the mountains, the rivers crystal clear,

    I find a lush green meadow, and in it several deer.

    I turn and ride back to my tribe, and say its safe and sound,

    This time I tell our chief, about the meadow I have found.

    The women they are tired, with children on their backs,

    The men were slumping over, with belongings in their sacks.

    The chief he raised his hand, every ear was tuned,

    He says our journeys short now, ending very soon.

    He looks at me and says, now lead us to that place,

    Upon my paint I ride, a smile upon my face.

    When we reached the meadow, the chief he raised his voice,

    In his weathered face, you could see he made his choice.

    He says ” the waters clear, even though the deer had gone,

    Welcome to our meadow, welcome to your home”.

    By: Focused

    • Focused

      great poem,
      the real owners of our country
      so sad they were out numbered
      with greedy people who took it away.
      do you yourself have indian blood that run though your vains
      with your poetry it seems it is so.


      • Thanks zenden… I believe my grandma was 1/8 Cherokee, as for me it would be very little…. times were rough back then on all indians , in the west and the east. I just believe that the hardships on all the american indians need to be remembered… have a great evening zenden…. see ya my friend

        • Focused

          If all of us could invent a time machine,
          go back to early times.
          who knows what would happen
          prevent those awful crimes.
          our knowledge prevent us to do so,
          and carry a burden sad
          to know now of how they truly lived
          and what we could of had.


          • I agree zenden…. when you invent one let me know..k i wanna go πŸ™‚ see ya my friend..

    • Sorry, focused, I missed this, thank goodness I double checked! Simply beautiful, focused, you are a gift to us all. πŸ™‚

      the way my mind floats,
      I must wade through my notes.
      And every time I write a letter,
      I start to see things
      A little bit better.
      I’ve bid adeu the pirate
      Who hobbled on by.
      But I soon won’t forget
      How he smelled of pie.
      And his parrot, I’d bet
      Is the one with one eye.
      Back through the notes,
      I’m paddling now
      Ever faster
      Leaning to the bough,
      It could be a disaster,
      Wish i knew how
      To think like a master.
      But wait, I’m just a bit
      …halfway there…
      I should pause and sit
      I could knit some wit,
      I’ll tell you, truthfully,
      Every little oddity,
      Is an applied commoddity…
      This isn’t a spelling bee.
      This is TTOTC,
      your ticket to insanity! πŸ™‚

  31. ” Free Wisdom ”

    For wisdom comes in many forms,

    Some much beyond our daily norms.

    Through trial and error wisdom grows,

    It has no limits, for this we know.

    We begin at birth, our chalkboard blank,

    Day by day, we grow and think.

    Years they pass, our wisdom grows,

    Our knowledge blooms, the more we know.

    Still starving for , a wisdom treat,

    Our mind it growls, more knowledge please.

    Our hair turns white, as white as snow,

    With still so much, that we should know.

    My friends please listen, to what I say,

    There’s so much more, you can learn each day.

    Don’t just settle, for the wisdom you’ve got,

    Just add more knowledge, in your own wisdom pot.

    For someday when , your mind does rest,

    You’ll have the wisdom, to pass life’s test.

    Now grab a book, and learn something new,

    Don’t miss the wisdom , waiting for you.

    Life’s Wisdom is free, now you make the call,

    Enjoy your life, while learning it all.

    I’ll take my own challenge, until my days have end,

    And all that I learn, I’ll share with my friends…………

    By Focused

  32. ” Golden Wings of 9/11 ”

    Today the bell of freedom rings , for all our loved ones lost ,

    Today we remember the price , paid for an evil cost.

    Why did it happen ?, what was the reason ?, questions alway’s ask,

    Answers we may never know , Lost forever in the past.

    Now a mighty monument stands , forever in it’s place,

    To remind us of their mighty smiles , they wore upon their face.

    Husbands , wives , sons and daughters , Loved down to the core ,

    Brother’s , sister’s , aunt’s and uncles , loved forever more.

    Take the time to pause today , let silence fill your ears ,

    Remember those whom on this day , left us with our tears.

    For they are in a better place , forever to behold ,

    Flying with our ” God ” above , over the streets of gold.

    Some day we will join them , in that mighty golden place ,

    To see their shining golden smiles , upon their golden face.

    Until that day , honor those , who left on 9/11,

    For now they fly on angel wings, forever with ” God ” in heaven…………….

    I dedicate this poem to each and every person who lost a loved one
    On 9/11/01……. My prayer’s are with you……

    I wrote this poem last year and thought I would repost it in honor of those
    Whom we lost……

    By: Focused

    • I’m truly grateful for your penmanship given on this day of remembrance for those who have fallen, for those who were there and those who have been touched. Thank you, Focused.

    • Not forgotten…remember Nichola Cage movie scene showing molten metal running down the rubble pile toward them buried and clinging to hope. Real heroes of the USA. Heroes like Forrest.

    • The crack in the liberty bell is a straight crack which attests to the care that was taken in it’s casting. When photographed from the side, the crack looks crooked but in fact it cracked symmetrically near the outer rim and widened when it got hot from ringing. When was it rung so long and so loud? Why did Forrest learn to fly and leave his wife to fight a war?

  33. ” Tomorrow ”

    The winds of time , blow quickly by,

    Life’s leaves of color fall.

    Slumber grey’s across the skies,

    A chill with distant calls.

    Your soul it has a window,

    With frost upon its panes.

    It stops the winds that blow,

    Outside that calls your name.

    A fire that burns within you,

    Has a warm and steady glow.

    It’ll help you through life’s venue,

    If tended as you grow.

    But if your fires not tended,

    And you fire it softly fades.

    You’ll know your time has ended,

    With choices you have made.

    So while your winds are blowing,

    And your cozy as can be.

    Live your life while showing,

    Others your warm and free.

    Don’t live your life in sadness,

    Don’t live within your sorrow,

    Live your life in happiness,

    Because your never promised tomorrow .

    By: Focused

  34. Pieces of 9/11 (9/12 and Beyond)

    Picking up all the pieces
    Of that horrific day long ago
    That left the country speechless
    The story we all know

    Pieces of families shattered
    Dear ones taken away too soon
    Thousands of lives that mattered
    Dead and missing, on memorials festooned

    Pieces of twin tower rubble
    That volunteers sifted through with hope
    Though breathing and labor was troubling
    Somehow they managed to cope

    Pieces of a five sided building
    The lives lost there, utterly senseless
    Our military remained unyielding
    Though evil tried to render us defenseless

    Pieces of baggage and a jet plane
    That littered a gaping Shanksville hole
    Where the cry of heroic men slain
    Could be heard as they fought, β€œLet’s roll!!”

    Now pieces of that dark day in September
    Have found a place in the new tower so grand
    Where a beam of light shines as a reminder
    Of the resilience of those in this land

    I wrote this last year as well. May we never forget.

  35. ” Saving Grace ”

    Many many years ago, in the mountains of this land,

    There roamed a group of Arapaho, guided by one man.

    They went into the mountains, and left their prairie land,

    To explore across the ridges, with knives and bow in hand.

    Looking for a special place, told by their elder men,

    A waterfall with powers, and healing waters grand.

    Three of them were sick, they knew their time was near,

    Their leader lead them onward, not showing any fear.

    For days they roamed the mountains, not wanting to give in,

    Weak and tired they climbed, nearing their life’s end.

    Then one of them fell to his knees, as if to go no more,

    While kneeling he could hear, the waters faintly roar.

    With all his might he struggled, back to his feet again,

    The strength within the Arapaho, shown within this man.

    Along the creek they traveled, and much to their surprise,

    Around a bend they seen it, right before their eyes.

    It was the special waterfall, spoke of the elder men,

    Standing at the bottom, the mist it sprayed on them.

    The sick knelt to their knees, prayed to the mighty spirit,

    Praying to the ” Great One “, knowing he could hear it.

    Then they waded in the pool, created by the falls,

    While standing in the water, they hear an Eagles call.

    Then totally submerged, their bodies in that place,

    In silence under water, they heard their saving grace.

    Then they traveled downward, back to their prairie tribe,

    With many years before them, their sickness left to hide.

    Life within the Waterfall, felt by these Arapaho,

    Forever will be cherished, everywhere they go.

    So next time your out hiking, and see a waterfall,

    Think about the Arapaho, while watching water fall.

    And if your sick and ailing , go find your special place,

    And wade off in God’s water, and hear his saving grace…………

    By: Focused

    • Thank you for your kind comment Double Ugly. We all welcome you back to the poetry page. There are many gifted people here…have a good evening and thanks again….. see ya

  36. It seems that this beautiful video is no longer available, pdenver. If another is available, than I will be very happy! (I believe you would be, too!).

    Jeff is missed. Are there any updates available?

  37. The Master

    Evening lit by candlelight,
    Parchment and quill awaits;
    The Master looks into the darkness;
    He sits alone in thought.

    The Master lifts his quill,
    Dips it in the well;
    Solemn is his expression;
    He has a story to tell.

    The quill doth touch parchment,
    The Master’s ink turns into words;
    Written for the one he loved,
    And lost, many years ago.

    The Master’s memories echoes,
    His heart heavy-burdened;
    Looking into the emptiness,
    Recalling what once was.

    In the silence of the night,
    He hears her call his name;
    The Master’s heart doth enlighten,
    He whispers her name as well.

    The Master’s words are written,
    The quill and parchment lies still;
    The candlelight’s last flicker,
    Left with the Master’s last breath.

  38. ” The Surprise Catch ”

    In the year of 1826, I lived upon this land,

    A hunter for my people, a proud and noble clan.

    Alone I spent my days, in search of daily food,

    Others they would gather, many piles of wood.

    One day while I was hunting, and grasping to my spear,

    I heard some distant thunder, I knew the rain was near.

    The sky was getting darker, the woods they did the same,

    I heard the mighty spirit, just calling out my name.

    I walked into a clearing, beside a waterfall,

    While looking to the heavens, again I hear his call.

    The mighty spirit tells me, to look within the pool,

    It was then I noticed, how the fish was plentiful.

    I gently raised my spear, and focused on a fish,

    Quickly I released it, oh how the water splashed.

    One by one I speared the fish, until my bag was full,

    Leaving some for next time, here in this tiny pool.

    I look up to the heavens, I thank the mighty spirit,

    Again the thunder rumbles, telling me he hears it.

    I leave the tiny creek, and head back to my clan,

    To share my daily catch, with all my fellow man.

    Some days when the animals, dodge my sharpened eyes,

    A hunter must adapt, and return with a surprise.

    Today I paused and listened, to a spirit so much higher,

    Tonight we all can eat some fish, while sitting around our fires.

    Tomorrow when I rise, I’ll go and hunt again,

    Today , I’ll just say goodbye, to you my fellow friends………..

    By: Focused

    P.s.- The inspiration for this poem came from a painting by “Thomas Cole” titled – “Landscape with Indian”. Date- ca.1826. I hope everyone likes it…see ya my friends…..

  39. Perhaps…a metamorphosis is occurring on our “journey” through Forrest’s poem…


    *Always inside me…just lying beneath
    *Leaving my life’s confines…behind
    *Imagination…alive…soon taking flight
    *For this “thrill”…a journey’s circle…entwined

    *Ever after…now “jarred” abruptly awake
    *Aware of a stirring…is it now time to leave?
    *What if…like “Alice”…this key opens a door
    *And, I hear “Peter Pan” saying…”I do believe”

    *Keeping true and humble…feel your soul “fly”
    *Ever kind…To seek, to find…meaning and peace
    *Never doubt…just sense your own “watchman”
    *Spirits…grow and soar…Yes, and finally release


    • SL…thank you, as always…

      With thoughts of Helen Keller…”The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart”

  40. ” My Cherokee Frog ”

    Standing at the trailhead , my gear strung on my back,

    The sun is just now rising, it’s rays begin to crack.

    The fog it softly lingers, a chill is in the air,

    A dew rests on the forest floor, a sound of river near.

    I begin my journey, just walking down the trail,

    Like a boat upon the waters, I open up my sail.

    There’s nothing like the solitude, hiking all alone,

    I’ll spend my day enjoying, mother nature as I roam.

    On the trail while walking, an Eagles in the sky,

    He softly floats along, while he’s on the fly.

    I wonder if he sees me, from way up in the air,

    If he does I doubt, that he even cares.

    I hike along the rivers edge, the water it quietly flows,

    As if to sneak away, rippling as it flows.

    Up ahead I see a pool, in the quickly fading fog,

    Beside it stands a deer, drinking near a log.

    I try to sneak up on it, I wondered if I could,

    The deer just raised its head, and bounced into the woods.

    When I reached the pool, I looked into the water,

    While watching all the rainbows, I hear a rain crow holler.

    Up ahead I see a rock, to pause and rest my feet,

    That is where it happened, a spirit spoke to me.

    His vision was before me, just floating in the air,

    Me I was in awe, just quietly sitting there.

    He said he walked this trail, many years ago,

    He too enjoyed its beauty, he wanted me to know.

    He said he was a Cherokee, he once lived up ahead,

    Near a mighty waterfall, that is what he said.

    He said he left me something, inside its misty fog,

    He carved it from a stone, an ancient little frog.

    Then his spirit disappeared , just faded in the air,

    Up the trail I hurried, just trying to get there.

    When I reached the waterfall, I knew that it was there,

    Then I quickly entered, its mist within the air.

    Behind that mighty waterfall, in a carved out tiny space,

    Wet the frog was sitting there, a smile upon my face.

    I took the ancient frog, and went back to the trail,

    There I sat and starred at it, the stories it could tell.

    The sun was getting lower, it’s time to head on back,

    Carefully I placed the frog, safe within my pack.

    When I reached my pickup, I headed back to town,

    I Couldn’t wait to show, the ancient frog that I had found…….

    By: Focused

  41. Focused –

    If you don’t write a book I’m gonna come over there and kick your a……..Oh well, maybe I won’t do that – but you get my point. I want to buy your book !

      • Pdenver, man you guys have got me looking over my shoulder now… lol πŸ™‚ thank you for your kind words…have a great day pdenver, see ya my friend

        • If you should look over your shoulder, be careful of the first step in front of you. πŸ™‚ You’re so welcome for the kind words. You deserve them. Have a great day, my friend.

    • Into, the thought has crossed my mind several times the past year or so… I have around 200 poems that I have penned during my chase, alot of them were not proof read before posting them. I guess I need to go back and fine tune them and persue that thought…. watcha think ? Well at least I know I could sell one . Lol πŸ™‚ “IF” I do then I’ll let ya know k… have a great day my friend… see ya

      • Focused –

        I wish I could tell you where to start…..I don’t know a thing about publishing……..maybe someone else here knows.

        You have a great day too my friend back at ya…..

        • Perhaps calling/e-mailing some will lead you in the right direction. My orthodontist wrote a child’s book and the publisher asked he wrote one with a wild west theme, which he started. He asked for names and I had given one, for which he loved, and said he would give me recognition in his book. Never did see if he finished it.

      • Focused,

        IF you publish your poems make it all in Word first, then publish to PDF format. You can upload that PDF on a site that makes “flip book” style digital books. See if you could add pictures on one side and your poem on the other. Use Creative Commons Attribution type photos so you don’t violate copyright rules.

        FlipBook idea

  42. ” Little Things ”

    Enjoy the things around you, each and every day,

    All of you enjoy , the time on earth you stay.

    The hourglass is filling, the sand it quickly falls,

    Little voices in you, say that heaven calls.

    Things you have around you, some you’ve yet to see,

    In your eyes you’ll notice, your living wild and free.

    Life is more than shiny things, or your banking worth,

    My how time does quickly fly, since our precious birth.

    Friends you have around you, take them on your trails,

    Because of you they’ll live, a life with open sails.

    Each of us we matter, each and every one,

    Day by day enjoy it, while living on the run.

    The days are surely numbered, before our final part,

    Sun can shine forever, if your living from your heart.

    Set out on adventure, you’ll see just what I mean,

    Is the life within you, saying ” set me free”?

    An eagle in the air, or just a passing smile,

    Ending is for certain, so walk that extra mile.

    To live within your world, as life was meant to be,

    A feeling you will cherish, happy as can be.

    Day will turn to dark, just to rise again,

    You can spend your time, like leaves upon the wind.

    Will you please just try it, and grab life by the horns,

    Never will you look back, on a life so full of thorns.

    Live to see the little things, and lend a helping hand,

    Again I wish you well, all my online friends.

    See you in the mountains, somewhere along the trails,

    Ya living amongst the little things, oh the stories you could tell……

    By: Focused

    P.S- If you read down the first word in every sentence it says..

    ” Enjoy all the little things in life, my friends, because each day the sun
    Set is an ending to a day you will never live again, see ya”

  43. As many of you probably know, my mom passed away last night. Since the chase and many of you have been a big part of my life for the last few years, I feel comfortable posting this here, although it isn’t specifically about the chase. I wrote this poem a few days ago when my mom was awake.

    The afternoon light
    Plays along the blinds
    As I hold your hand
    And tears fill your eyes
    As though you were taken by a cruel surprise
    And I am helpless to tell you otherwise–

    But I’m screaming inside
    As I try to smile
    And whisper I love yous
    All the while
    And I feel like a betrayer
    Full of guile–

    Because I assure you
    It’ll all be okay,
    And that you will wake
    To a brand new day
    But, really, I just don’t know
    What to say.

    The truth is I love you
    More than you know
    I remember as a child,
    As you watched me grow–

    And I watched you in awe
    Of your strength and your graces
    And wondered how I could be your child
    When I fumbled with my laces.

    Your beauty was so flawless
    And I was always so proud
    I clung to you so tightly
    When the noises were too loud.
    And when the fear of the sounds
    Came along with the crowds
    You held me so close, I could feel your heart beat
    And as you rocked me gently, I felt — complete.

    You were the best kind of mom
    To a misfit like me,
    And now I am finally able to see
    That although we’d often disagree,
    The love was there, and would always be.

    Now there is fear in your dimming blue eyes,
    And my world is shattered from romantic lies
    Death is not graceful, easy, or glamorous,
    But cruel and scary and clamorous.

    What can I do to make the transition sweet?
    I sit on the edge of the bed at your feet,
    Hum a soft song that praises Jesus our King,
    And after a moment, I hear you try to sing.
    And I know in my heart that He will bring
    You into his kingdom where the multitudes sing
    Joy, oh, joy! And glory, sweet glory,
    Free from pain, tears and worry.

    And as the sun sets on this last day,
    I suddenly find the words to say,
    And I share our happy memories
    In my child-like way,
    And the tears that glistened on your lashes
    Fade as a smile bids them gone
    And as Elvis sings softly on,
    We pray together, hold each other, until the dawn…

  44. Mindy,

    Sorry to hear about your mom. I’d like to think this means you have more Angels watching over you now. Take your time healing and remembering the good times.


  45. ” Golden Pond ”

    In the year of 1350, alone I drift about,

    Rejected by my people, for they have kicked me out.

    They say there’s evil in me, and band me from the tribe,

    My face it shows my sadness, with tears in every stride.

    My Apache hearts been strong, all my twenty years,

    In strength I will continue, I’ll proudly hide my tears.

    Alone within this desert, my days are very long,

    Listening to the birds, while they sing their desert song.

    There is no evil in me, my woman’s heart is pure,

    How did they see evil ? That haven’t any cure.

    Alone I press on forward, and with each passing day,

    I kneel to watch the sunset, falling as I pray.

    When I reached the foothills, I came across a creek,

    Maybe it holds the answers, to everything I seek.

    I traveled up the creek side, through willows bright and green,

    Ahead the white cap mountains, most beauty I have seen.

    My Apache feet are tired, and I can’t continue on,

    While traipsing through the willows, I find a hidden pond.

    The sun was getting lower, so here I’ll spend the night,

    At daylight I’ll continue, looking for my life.

    As the sun is rising, the pond it has a glow,

    I feel today is different, somehow I just know.

    Then I see a mother deer, with her spotted fawn,

    Watching as they drink, across the golden pond.

    They jumped into the bushes, spooked by something near,

    Then Apache voices, I faintly start to hear,

    Then I seen their faces, they were Apache bred,

    They welcomed me to join them, in prayer I dropped my head.

    They knew that I was coming, the spirits told them so,

    Across the special waters, that held a holy glow.

    For years I lived among them, welcome as can be,

    For they did not see evil, when they looked at me.

    Happily I spent my days, and they were not as long,

    Living with my family, across the golden pond.

    Just because your judged sometimes, knowing it’s not true,

    Don’t give up, keep on living, your family waits for you………

    By: Focused

  46. Long ago my Grandmother taught me something. She said, “Remember, when you point you finger at someone in blame, you will always have three fingers pointing back at yourself.” It is sometimes easy to judge others, not knowing what path they have taken to cross ours.

    Again, Focused, so beautifully written.

    Hope you always find acceptance, where ever you reside. I find it hard to believe that anyone would point the finger of blame at you. JDA

    • Thank you Double Ugly…. im glad ypu could see the picture I was trying to paint with my words…. have a good evening my friend… until next time…. see ya

  47. Black Moon

    Hay what’s new with you?
    I’m looking forward to tonight’s Black Moon.

    It’s mystical reasons, I hope to know.
    Before this Winter shows us snow.

    If we didn’t dare to dream we’d have no thrills.
    So never give up, you know the drill.

    If cool weather encourages you to light a fire.
    Cozy up and share your smile.

    Something special is in the air,
    Make the most of tonight wherever you are.



    (By John Prine)

    “Far away over the sea
    There’s a river that’s calling to me
    That river she runs all around
    The place that I call my hometown

    There’s a valley on the side
    Of the hill
    And the flowers on an old windowsill
    A familiar old picture it seems
    And I’ll go there tonight
    In my dreams

    Where it’s green in the summer
    And gold in the fall
    Her eyes are as blue
    As the sky I recall

    Far away over the sea
    There’s a place at the table
    For me
    Where the laughter and music abound
    Just waiting there
    In my hometown

    Far away far away me
    Hung up on a sweet memory
    I’m lost and I wish I were found
    In the arms of my darlin’ hometown

    With the evening sun sittin’
    On the top of the hill
    And the mockingbird answering
    The old chapel bell

    Far away over the sea
    My heart is longing to be
    And I wish I could lay myself down
    In the arms of my darlin’ hometown”

    Dedicated to the fondest of memories of
    Lori Ann Merkner
    08/08/1956 to September 07, 2016

    Ovarian Cancer never defined you
    and it never will

  49. ” Game of Life ”

    Fear not the shadows, embrace the dark,

    At Dawns first light, the twilight looms.

    For voices in your soul does hark,

    Speaking like a thunders boom.

    He who listens, from deep within,

    Can shed some light, and see afar.

    In midst of darkness, where tales are grim,

    Rays do twinkle, like distant stars.

    In silence midst your inner thinking,

    In conversation with your self.

    Fear not the darkness, stars are blinking,

    Find some courage on your inner shelf.

    Alone within you changes made,

    Rejoicing while your voices hark,

    Fearing not what lies within the shade,

    Brave you’ll be , within the dark.

    Live a life, where deeds are good,

    Embrace it with a grin,

    Treat all others like you should,

    In your game of life you’ll win…………

    By: Focused

  50. Thank you Jonsey1 for your kind words. Have a great evening .. and keep twinkling yourself.. πŸ™‚ until next time..see ya my friend..

      • Thank you Focused. I think she faired well…just one big tree down on the porch. Power is out for all in the area, but in a few days things should improve for all.

    • Mindy, I’m happy you can go home today since you have power back in your area. My sister is in a much more rural area so it could be a day or so before she gets power back.


    The nice thing about mirrors,
    Is you can learn from them every day of the year.
    Sometimes we forget to take a good look,
    As if we are trying to ignore Time’s line and the hook.

    Other Times you spend a while,
    Inspecting creases in your own smile.
    Flaws, not really…you see it’s all just art.
    Each day it looks different, from beginning till dark.

    So please today, just do this one thing…
    Before Fall gets to cool, take a good look at yourself for me.
    If you see yourself, and I then see you,
    Then life is good and for a little while we all see a tooth.

    Smiles across the miles,

  52. ” My Apache Bandanna ”

    Riding through the desert, alone upon my horse,

    The breeze is slightly blowing, trying to stay on course.

    On either side the mesa’s, stand so very tall,

    Above I see an eagle, I hear his lovely call.

    The sun is high above me, the sky is clear and blue,

    The colors of the mesa’s, add a reddish hue.

    All day in the saddle, just seems to take its toll,

    Then all at once I seen him, alone upon a knoll.

    An Indian boy was sitting, not caring I was near,

    I notice as I ride up, he’s not showing any fear.

    I climbed down from my saddle, with my reins in hand,

    His face was chapped and red, just sitting in the sand.

    I offered him some water, from my old canteen,

    He began to drink, most thirst that I have seen.

    Lost out in this desert, a boy would surely die,

    I helped him on my horse, and we began to ride.

    Not a word was spoken, he grabbed around my waist,

    The sun was bearing down, upon this arid place.

    For miles we ventured onward, daring not to stop,

    Then I noticed something, upon the Mesa top.

    It was a line of Indians, all mounted on their horse,

    Slowly I continued, just staying on my course .

    They look to be Apache , with bands around their head,

    The Feathers on their spears, in the sun was vivid red.

    Then single file they rode , down from the Mesa top,

    I gently pulled my reins, my horse it gladly stopped.

    We climbed down from my horse, my blood was pumping fast,

    Together we just stood there, they were approaching fast.

    About a hundred yards away, they stopped all in a line,

    Standing behind the boy, I knew that it was time.

    My hands upon his shoulders, we slowly walk to them,

    The Indians start their chanting, each and every man.

    The boy he finally speaks out, in his native tongue,

    Suddenly the chanting stops, as quick as it begun.

    Then a lone Apache , swings down from his horse,

    Speaking as he walks up, his voice was harsh and course.

    The Apache boy ran to him, and hugged him on the leg,

    The Apache man then took, his bandanna from his head.

    He held it out to give me, his thanks within his hand,

    Gladly I accepted, then nodded to that man.

    They climbed upon his horse, the chanting once again,

    And then they rode away, in dust from desert sand.

    Alone within this desert, on a nice and sunny day,

    His bandanna around my neck, I slowly ride away………

    By : Focused

  53. Soul of a searcher

    Got up one morning
    bright and early
    going to find my soul
    driving many miles
    my thoughts of finding gold.

    stopped at yellowstone to look around,
    and stayed for a couple of days,
    drove on to cody
    and zipped on though
    to the town of meeteetse last may.

    so tired was I to go ahead,
    my searchers soul seemed lost,
    and yes I did, to forge instead
    no matter what the cost.

    canyon down
    home of brown
    I walked not far from wood
    I can’t tell you what I found,
    or even if I should.

    I do not own a camera
    my memorys were my own
    what I found was priceless
    I left it there alone.

    so home I went in wonder
    if someone saw it too.
    and you can find it also
    when you followed the clues.



    Everyone knew the tribal Elder Sleeping Eagle Feather.
    He was quiet except when he wasn’t and something important to say.
    People would gather around and wait on his every word at times.

    One day when everyone gathered Little Bird entered the room with a question.
    “When are you going to tell us our future?,” asked Little Bird with a soft voice.
    A gleam sparked in Sleeping Eagle Feathers eyes as he spoke these few words.

    I have a plan for you all, in time you will all see it if you hear me all and listen good.
    Several were unhappy that he did not tell them the dates and times of things.
    These people left to go about their daily routines with their watches on their wrists.

    Many, however, were delighted just to sit and see Sleeping Eagle Feather smile.
    These people were given the glimpse into the Secret to happiness, which is Peace.
    He smoked a pipe with these people and told them to β€œNever Worry about the Future.”

    Sleeping Eagle Feather promised to reveal great Wisdom to each person that stayed by his side.
    He said, β€œOne day I will be called upon to change History.”
    No one knew what this meant so he sent for Little Bird, hoping for an half answer without giving it away.

    “What does he mean?” asked Walks Far with Many Friends.
    Little Bird did not know either but tried to explain.
    β€œHe is waiting for his Rainbow sign.”

    Everyone at once knew that meant the right timing in the Cosmos.
    So the sometimes unhappy people began to understand that everything has a perfect timing.
    As so it was going forward, no one asked him again about it.

    Sleeping Eagle Feathers gift to the world was his sense of timing.
    He knew when to give people information so that would change the course of his people’s History.
    So good at knowing, even when he was sleeping he was more awake then anyone else in the Tribe.


    • Thanks 23Kachinas.. i enjoyed those words my friend….great penning !

      ” To see beyond a rainbows arc,

      One must look through the eyes of a feather”

      By : Focused

      Have a great day 23Kachinas …until next time, see ya πŸ™‚

    • 23Kachinas

      enjoyed your poetry very much,
      kind of reminds me of forrest fenn in a way

      (he knew when to give people information so that would change the course of his people’s history)


    • Great poem, 23Kachinas.

      How enjoyable it would be to sit with Sleeping Eagle Feather and listen to him tell of the “fountains, meadows, hills and groves”.

      All in due time…I reckon.

      “O joy! that in our embers
      Is something that doth live,
      That nature yet remembers
      What was so fugitive!” – William Wordsworth


      • From the 1961 movie “Spendor in the Grass” …I do remember:

        Lines 180 – 185 – William Wordsworth’s “Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood”

        What though the radiance which was once so bright
        Be now for ever taken from my sight
        Though nothing can bring back the hour
        Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower;
        We will grieve not, rather find
        Strength in what remains behind;

        Thanks for sharing JC1117

  55. I wander along the flowing creeks
    Up and down the sloping banks.
    As water trickles through rounded stones,,,
    For these times I give thanks.

    Alone among the pines so tall,
    Strong trees in files and ranks,
    I listen for their careful whisper,,,
    Then again for these I give thanks.

    Graceful deer that stop to watch,
    Nearby turkeys loud and proud,
    Friendly birds and prairie dogs,,,
    Now together we’re a crowd.

    I hike the many mountain paths
    Beneath the skies of blue.
    And as the forest’s silence grows,
    I give the Creator his due.

  56. Here’s a couple clues. IMO. But I ain’t tellin where where I began…I just ain’t. πŸ™‚

    Browns Descent, or the Willy-nilly Slide
    Robert Frost
    Mountain View

    BROWN lived at such a lofty farm
    That everyone for miles could see
    His lantern when he did his chores
    In winter after half-past three.

    And many must have seen him make 5
    His wild descent from there one night,
    ’Cross lots, ’cross walls, ’cross everything,
    Describing rings of lantern light.

    Between the house and barn the gale
    Got him by something he had on 10
    And blew him out on the icy crust
    That cased the world, and he was gone!

    Walls were all buried, trees were few:
    He saw no stay unless he stove
    A hole in somewhere with his heel. 15
    But though repeatedly he strove

    And stamped and said things to himself,
    And sometimes something seemed to yield,
    He gained no foothold, but pursued
    His journey down from field to field. 20

    Sometimes he came with arms outspread
    Like wings, revolving in the scene
    Upon his longer axis, and
    With no small dignity of mien.

    Faster or slower as he chanced, 25
    Sitting or standing as he chose,
    According as he feared to risk
    His neck, or thought to spare his clothes,

    He never let the lantern drop.
    And some exclaimed who saw afar 30
    The figures he described with it,
    ”I wonder what those signals are

    Brown makes at such an hour of night!
    He’s celebrating something strange.
    I wonder if he’s sold his farm, 35
    Or been made Master of the Grange.”

    He reeled, he lurched, he bobbed, he checked;
    He fell and made the lantern rattle
    (But saved the light from going out.)
    So half-way down he fought the battle 40

    Incredulous of his own bad luck.
    And then becoming reconciled
    To everything, he gave it up
    And came down like a coasting child.

    β€œWellβ€”Iβ€”be—” that was all he said, 45
    As standing in the river road,
    He looked back up the slippery slope
    (Two miles it was) to his abode.

    Sometimes as an authority
    On motor-cars, I’m asked if I 50
    Should say our stock was petered out,
    And this is my sincere reply:

    Yankees are what they always were.
    Don’t think Brown ever gave up hope
    Of getting home again because 55
    He couldn’t climb that slippery slope;

    Or even thought of standing there
    Until the January thaw
    Should take the polish off the crust.
    He bowed with grace to natural law, 60

    And then went round it on his feet,
    After the manner of our stock;
    Not much concerned for those to whom,
    At that particular time o’clock,

    It must have looked as if the course 65
    He steered was really straight away
    From that which he was headed forβ€”
    Not much concerned for them, I say:

    No more so than became a manβ€”
    And politician at odd seasons. 70
    I’ve kept Brown standing in the cold
    While I invested him with reasons;

    But now he snapped his eyes three times;
    Then shook his lantern, saying, β€œIle’s
    ’Bout out!” and took the long way home 75
    By road, a matter of several miles.

      • Jonsey1, you put it right out there now didn’t ya, Thanks for the Frosty reminder that Robert, may at times, play just like a Fenn. The beautiful thing about you is that you remind me of my 2nd grade teacher, Mrs. Chasen. She was Swedish and when she yelled at me her face would turn beet red. When she flunked me my Dad asked why? All I could muster up was “once just wasn’t enough”.

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