Poetry Page I…



The chase certainly has inspired some great poetry…

Here is a one stop page for poetry about the chase, Forrest or any other Thrill of the Chase related topic. I am hoping poets will copy and paste older poetry from other pages as well as create new poetry and place it on this page…

This page is now closed to new entries but a new Poetry Page has been created. To go to Poetry Page  II click HERE.



1,165 thoughts on “Poetry Page I…

  1. Yes, yes said the little man.
    I’ ll write a poem as quick as I can
    In honor of Dal and Forrest too
    First one in
    I hope it’ll do.

  2. This came to me from a searcher.

    As I searched today without a prayer
    I met some gold that wasn’t there.
    It wasn’t there again today.
    Oh how I wish I’d go away.

  3. A man named Forrest wrote a poem
    His hope was there
    That in pine air
    Many would roam

    In search of treasure in a chest
    In which he placed his very best
    Would we be wise and pass the test
    The mountainsides we comb

    But in the act of our excursions
    We all gather different versions
    Yielding stories
    Smartly told
    A treasure finer than purest gold

    So thanks go out to Mr. Fenn
    A pillar amongst true gentlemen
    Who gave us reason to go search
    and ramble in his country church

    • Beautifully expressed MacSweeney.
      I agree and thank you for sharing your poem.

  4. (A Rerun) (Revised)
    (Just for Fun)

    In a Dark Wood

    While I was alone in there
    To search for treasure old,
    A shadow whispered, Do not dare
    Disturb the leaves of gold.

    Beneath them lies a once-used Colt
    That laid a maverick down.
    Go far away. Run, don’t walk!
    Beware the bones of Brown.

    These woods are no place for the meek,
    I heard the shadow sigh.
    There is no gold along this creek,
    Move on before the shades draw nigh.

    If I’d been wise, not in a daze,
    Three questions I’d have asked.
    But though I peered and scanned the haze,
    The voice’s source was masked.

    So why is it I left without
    The treasure that I sought?
    As darkness fell, I headed out.
    I’d lost the lamp I brought.

    I heard a rustling — leaves or bones?
    My pounding heart turned cold.
    And when I fled, I tripped o’er stones
    And left behind the gold.

    Thanks for the Thrills, Forrest!

  5. This was my poem I wrote to Forrest when I believed that Bear Canyon was where the trove was hidden:

    You need an “X” to mark the spot
    To be the guide from cold to hot

    The tole of this search can really rub-ya
    All I can find is stinking dub-ya
    “W” is close only one short
    Is it a trap to try and thwart?

    A vision awoke me from my nap
    That lucid symbol on the map
    Is Questa where we start the quest?
    Only Forrest Fenn would know best

    Could this be where warm waters halt?
    Sure hope so, I don’t want to fault
    He who believes will not fail
    Put your faith in Moly tails

    How far is too far to walk?
    7000 meters don’t you mock!
    Cross Cold Red River do you dare?
    Must be brave to make Canyon Bear

    I climb this mound to loose some fat
    To discover home of Brown bat
    This too hard and start to debate
    Whether a man of decade eight

    I’m sweating, feeling really good
    As I climb through very thick wood
    Around this boulder its really tall
    Finally found that waterfall

    Now I ponder what’s a blaze
    With imagination, I start to gaze
    Behind the load, Pareidolia
    Is this Eureka or Apophenia?

    Get it right, if its an owl
    Get it wrong, then its a foul
    I look quickly down
    And I start to frown

    A sandwich and a flashlight?
    Did I comprehend you right?
    I start to weep
    Since the trove is deep

    The Wolf

  6. (found this in the archives, something i posted last year)

    begin it where the axe obeys

    the tarry scants, the marvel gaze

    moonlit glow, a starry blaze

    its crescent shape in the hidden maze

    listen closely, if you dare

    the hidden trove, I’ll tell you where

    if you’ve been wise, then look above

    its where the turtle, meets the dove

  7. North of Santa Fe
    A Searcher’s Tale

    Well, I too have gone alone in there,
    Searching for Fenn’s famous treasure trove.
    His secret is no longer kept, I swear,
    I think I’ve solved his poem of gold.

    The next two stanzas have come to a halt,
    But, it will be finished by the next round,
    Not much longer, still a time to balk,
    The gold will be found not far from Town.

    Halt . . . From warm waters halt to canyon down,
    I began it again from below the curved roads,
    No paddle to row, but a shovel to cart around.
    The rain was high, I was carrying heavy loads.

    Halt . . . The creek went on, there was no end,
    It simply opened up to a wonderful sight.
    I saw the blaze; I was fully amazed . . . amen.
    The way was no place for the meek, he’s right.

    I thought I was wise, I found the right place,
    Rocks, trees, brush, water, hints and more,
    Regrettably, it was not the end of my chase;
    Look quickly down would be the ultimate chore.

    Hanging around for that elusive marvel gaze,
    It’s here somewhere, Fenn’s rainbow to cease,
    I’ll never give up searching nearby this blaze.
    The thrill is for our pleasure so we can find peace.

    So I heard his call and I listened real good.
    My effort is worth finding the cold bronze chest.
    I will be brave when I get into the wood,
    Because the wood is the lining inside the old chest.

    And inside the chest lays a fortune in gold,
    For me to claim when I am so bold.
    Then he’ll give me gold title, so I can rest,
    But, he leaves me to fight the big bad I.R.S.


  8. I actually just sent this to Forrest today. These aren’t my words, but if you were a 10,000 Maniacs fan back in the ’80’s & ’90’s, you may remember the song. I listen to it a lot in my car when pondering The Chest. If you want to hear it you can find it on YouTube. I hope you enjoy it, and if you’ve served our country, I give you my thanks.

    The Big Parade

    Detroit to D.C. night train, Capitol, parts East. Lone young man takes a seat.

    And by the rhythm of the rails, reading all his mother’s mail from a city boy in a jungle town postmarked Saigon.

    He’ll go live his mother’s dream, and join the slowest parade he’ll ever see. Her weight of sorrows carried long and carried far.

    “Take these, Tommy, to The Wall.”

    Metro line to the Mall site with a tour of Japanese. He’s wandering and lost until a vet in worn fatigues takes him down to where they belong.

    Near a soldier, an ex-Marine with a tattooed dagger and eagle trembling, he bites his lip beside a widow breaking down.

    She takes her Purple Heart, makes a fist, strikes The Wall.

    All come to live a dream, to join the slowest parade they’ll ever see. Their weight of sorrows carried long and carried far, all taken to The Wall.

    It’s 40 paces to the year that he was slain. His hand’s slipping down The Wall for it’s slick with rain.

    How would life have ever been the same if this wall had carved in it one less name? But for Christ’s sake, he’s been dead over 20 years.

    He leaves the letters asking, “Who caused my mother’s tears, was it Washington or the Viet Cong?”

    Slow deliberate steps are involved. He takes them away from the black granite wall toward the other monuments so white and clean.

    O, Potomac, what you’ve seen. Abraham had his war too, but an honest war. Or so it’s taught in school

  9. Especially for all the YNP searchers……..

    Hot water, warm water
    Geyser halting basin

    Cliff walls, dam stalls
    Walls of ancient masons

    Molly Brown, not in town
    Artist with a hammer

    Treasures bold, don’t get cold
    Or end up in the slammer !

  10. Come out with me, the weather is fine;
    I’ll take you to a search spot of mine.
    If no gold is there,
    We’ve nothing to share,
    But our lunch and a really good time.

  11. Here’s a poem that I had posted quite some time ago.
    It’s about the qualities of the spot where the chest is resting.
    It’s written by the treasure chest:

    “The Chest Speaks”

    Forrest Fenn hands were the last to warm me
    Here I’ve rested so still and forsaken
    Sometimes voices in the distance I’ve heard
    But mostly it’s cries of wind or a bird

    Once felt soft footsteps but only a bear
    The tall trees creaking and swaying so near
    When raining or snowing I am quite safe
    Yet I feel moisture creep in as of late

    The sky is unseen straight over my lid
    But framed in an arc beyond my firm bed
    Higher than lower but not highest yet
    Drier than wetter, faint dust I collect

    I’m laden with gold and want out of here
    Won’t you then take me away from my lair?
    For I was not cast to perch upon dirt
    But up on a plinth with gazes and mirth


  12. By any logical measure,
    Where’s the treasure?
    I’ll get it at my leisure
    or surely have a seizure.


  13. Found Poetry
    Compiled from TTOTC

    I felt a serene sense of warmth and satisfaction,
    I jumped up and down on my hat.

    A mattress on the floor,
    the most enjoyable thing in life.

    On many occasions at night,
    our learning curve was flat, at first.

    My shining bells have clankers,
    in a romantic sort of way.

    Kiss her on the cheek,
    it’s a secret technique I discovered.

    Run the risk of being foolish,
    youth should always be wasted on the young.

  14. I know the poetry is supposed to be about the chase here…BUT this is Memorial Day weekend and a time to remember our fallen comrades and reflect on the trials and travails of our people and our country…I give you one I wrote on Sept. 25, 2001…enjoy… 😀

    Tragic Futility: The Day The Sky Fell

    September eleven, two thousand one,
    the day of my birth in year fifty-two;
    morning not started when day came undone,
    unspeakable horror upon the city new.

    Down from a sky clear blue,
    Wing-ed Death with blasting fire;
    in the hour the twins noble knew
    eternity in acrid pyre.

    Evil in the choking dark,
    billowing roil of hot wind blow
    peace from the lower park
    in wailing and fear to crescendo.

    Foundations were shaken
    to the bedrock of freedom known,
    innocence was taken
    in souls to the heavens flown.

    A scorched clearing in Penn’s woods,
    scarred by the actions of the brave;
    evidenced that certain heroes stood
    defending Honour to the grave.

    A fifth of the wheel broken
    near a river of history fair,
    now rise the eagle unspoken,
    lift the skies up, up into the air.

    A pox upon the king
    of terror and on hatred belief!
    Out from hell’s fires spring
    anger, destruction, vengeful grief!

    Nations now rattle sabers of war
    to the din and crying of blood for blood,
    may God preserve us lest the door
    be closed on peace against the flood.

    From the annals of history, out of the past,
    in the tales and sagas of those gone before;
    are the voices repeating of breath to the last-
    “Never, never again ever, nevermore.”

    Unfortunately I was a witness that day and may we never forget!
    Sam Smith, TN

    • Not Fair SamSmith for us rednecks with no poetry skills but nice poem and I think my uncle would have loved it. Isaiah Rivera 110th Floor CBS

        • I am a TN hillbilly there William…

          You have my heartfelt sympathy on the loss of your Uncle Isaias…

          He would not want you to grieve too much however, for while you are still here, he is in the company of angels…


          • Thank you Sam but we celebrate life in our family and how we live it cause in death we are equals. My uncle was a happy man and the last memory was on my boat deep sea fishing at night and putting back a couple of beers, The funny thing was he never been on a boat and something so simple in life meant alot to the both of us. Find your threshold in life and put one foot in.

  15. A Whisper

    A whisper to the man has set him aglow,
    He reveals a clue, because a deep thinker knows.
    Most don’t understand his immaculate plan
    So he’s leveling the field as fast as he can.

    While discussing the issue where warm waters halt,
    He slipped-up and cracked opened his secret vault.
    Out came the answer, it’s not related to a dam.
    Damn! ……Now I have to start over again, Sam.

    Ritt/Platto ll

  16. Imagination run faster take me to the gold so I can get a new tractor to mow my grassy pasture . Set me a windmill close to my sawmill to draw me sum water up from the holler so I ain’t gotta run to sip out of a wAter hose and get it all up in my nose . Roof in need of repair I sick of smelling 100 year old insulation air …… Ohhhhh imagination just take me there !!!!

    • You should have packed that engine with the 3 blades in your suitcase. I think that might have been your treasure to draw your water up from the holler….what is a holler by the way? Took me 20 years to know what a “crick” was. Lived with this guy who kept saying he was doing things at a crick lol…finally when I saw him one day with a turtle he was about to make soup out of…I realized when he told me he caught it in the “crick” what that actually meant lol…I’m guessing a holler is something like a crick. I need to be schooled.

        • LOL Now I’ll have to google it….but I’m guessing a canyon now that I have acquired some mountainesc knowledge. Let me guess…it was named by a guy who yelled really loud to his kids swimming in the crick to come home for dinner.

      • Well running through the forest with bear spray in my hand, I’m a big bad boy i’m the treasure man! YEH HAW!

        • This is from the lady whose husband was helicopter rescued from the deep snow near Hebgen Lake a few weeks ago. Her family is well and safe now.

          I found out reading an article somewhere awhile back that you had pet alligators. My youngest son, who is 5, is fascinated with alligators and crocodiles. He’s mesmerized by them and can tell you cool little facts like how many teeth they have and what a death role is. He wanted an alligator as a pet until I told him they eat people! Now, he’s just satisfied pretending to be one of the gator boys. Because of him I thought this tidbit about you was intriguing and even remember you quoting The Crocodile by Lewis Carroll. So, when I came across this poem by a man named Gareth Lancaster from the United Kingdom, I thought it was all too fitting and had to share. Hope you enjoy!


          The Crocodile

          Today I saw a crocodile,
          It sat and stared at me!
          I didn’t run, I didn’t shriek,
          In case I was his tea!

          No move I saw the snapper make,
          His jaws remained tight shut.
          Whilst sweat poured down my forehead,
          I heard rumbles from his gut!

          I’ve been in worse predicaments,
          But only in my head.
          Like wrestling with big brown bears,
          And monsters from our shed!

          But feeling brave I shuffled close,
          To see his scary jaws.
          The crocodile was not impressed,
          And flexed his giant claws!

          The beast prepared to eat me up,
          He snapped, he snarled, he blew!
          But I just stood and tapped the glass,
          ‘Cause this croc is in the zoo!

  17. Roses are red, Violets are blue.
    I’d like to find this treasure, how about you?

    Ok, a poet I am not. I really just wanted to get on this mailing list. 🙂

  18. Here is a poem from a person wishing to remain anonymous

    I had a dream

    I had a dream the world was ending,
    24 hours left before it is over,
    This was a real dream I’m not pretending,
    Wearing my hat with a four leaf clover.

    Climbing up the hill with 10 hours to spare,
    Times going to quick gotta make it fast,
    8 hours left, oh this isn’t fair,
    Counting my Blazes all the way to the last,
    I entered the hole away from the sun,
    6 hours left before its all done,
    The dirt is so soft and cold to the touch,
    It moves well with my hands and doesn’t take much,
    3 hours left hole is upto my knees,
    Hungry and thirsty is what I came to be,
    Time is still ticking for my quest to cease,
    Lifting the box up to set it free,
    1 hour to go the treasures been found,
    How long you been there so deep in the ground,
    Now I know what this dream was all about,
    My old life has ended and new life has started,
    My life has changed without a doubt,
    I have finished my quest and the chest I’m awarded
    But wait this was just a dream a dream with a clue,
    Maybe someday this will all just come true.


    • Great poem, does F have a four leaf clover in his hat and is this a clue?! Lol. Just kiidding

  19. As I ponder the places I plan to go,
    And look back on the ones that I already know,
    I wear a grin like a Cheshire cat,
    Thinking of mice or a catnip bathmat.
    Why did it take a chest full of gold
    To bring me to where it is so worth the cold?
    And what if the Chase would never have been?
    What if I’d never heard of Forrest B. Fenn?
    I’d never have seen a pueblo or cave,
    And certainly could never have called myself brave.
    I’d be missing the joy I find on the blog,
    And laying around like a bump on a log.
    So why is it that I’m onto his game?
    Is it for wealth and money and fame?
    It was, once upon a time,
    But now it’s evolved into something sublime.
    Of course I still want to be the one,
    But only because I could extend all the fun!
    I feel I belong to a community spirit,
    If you listen closely, you too can hear it.
    Look at all the good things we have done,
    Because the Pied Piper showed us the Sun.
    In the end the chest of gold will be found,
    But its the Thrill of the Chase that I find so profound.
    Thank you to all that share in the search,
    The lessons I’ve learned hold the real worth.

    Michael D


    “How deep is the hole,” said the polliwogs to the frog.
    “I don’t know, let me climb up on that log,” said the frog.
    “You are so brave,” gurgled the toad in the mud.
    But then all went silent and no one could budge.
    It was too cold to know what do do so they kept still trying not to catch the flu.

    One month went by and the polliwogs were now frogs.

    “How deep is the hole,” said the younger frogs to the older frog.
    “It’s deeper than you should go with your little legs,” said the older frog.
    “You are so smart,” gurgled the toad in the mud.
    “Well I’ve been there is spring and summertime too, it’s brisk moving water and you might catch the flu.” said the older frog.

    One month went by and the younger frogs grew impatient.

    “How deep is the hole,” said the younger frogs once more.
    “It’s time to dive deep and try to keep score.” said the older frog.
    “What does score mean, do you mean a game?” said the younger frogs.
    “Indeed its one winner take all, a true test of strength.” gurgled the toad in the mud.
    “Yes, and the winner gets to take my place on the log.” said the older frog.

    So they all jump in without hearing the rules and swam really deep like eager little fools.

    The hole went quiet again for one year until little new tadpoles the frog did hear.

    “How deep is the hole,” said the polliwogs to the frog.
    “I don’t know, let me climb up on that log,” said the frog.

    And so the cycle of life went on and on, with just one brave frog left on the log.

    – 23kachinas

  21. Listen clear folks to what I must say,
    To the clues I have solved to show me the way,
    This chase has gone on for 5 or 6 years
    In a place so special that nobody fears
    As I walk this trail that nobody sees
    Searching for Blazes on side of these trees
    My time has come to locate this chest
    Find it or not I know I gave it my best
    Good luck to you searchers and continue your quest
    But there can only be one that seperates you from the rest
    Thanks Forrest Fenn for the Thrill of the Chase
    Now lets all go and try and finish this Race.

  22. Adieu

    I am a hunter of treasure you see.
    I search in the parkland and I pay a stiff fee.
    I drive my van across high mountain passes
    looking for wildlife with my old field glasses.

    It’s a pirates life of freedom and joy.
    Out on the road without lettuce or bok choi.
    I eat burgers and shakes and sweet apple pie
    I do what I want and head for blue sky.

    I walk and I hike and I climb all day.
    I feel pretty good just north of Santa Fe.
    The treasure I seek is anything new
    and it’s easy to find when you’ll say adieu.

  23. As I gaze thru the rain from this overlook,
    I spot a disturbance from beneath the marshy water.
    Only 2 concentric rings remain to ripple across.
    I pick up my binoculars from the handrail and shake the dew.
    I search in tight focus for the next face to appear.
    It takes till the new moon rises from the mountain ridge line.
    It whispers to me its secrets old and new
    “It’s not a hoax that I’m from this earth, never mind being lit from below.
    See that young bird in the nest on a pole…that will leave an impression.”
    From this fleeting conversation,
    I know this view is mine…I am fine.
    As I turn back to the cold,
    I bear witness to the 2 wet rings imprinted on the handrail.

  24. Treasure is life for just one more day

    Treasure is a warm wife that feeds the cows hay

    Treasure is watching a summer sunset right where you lay

    Treasure the moment is the very last thing I heard that monk say

  25. An Ode to TTOTC:

    I smile to envision when
    I make the call to Mr. Fenn
    Informing him that I have found
    The trove he once stashed in the ground
    His bracelet soon to be returned
    But kept with me the lessons learned
    Of life’s adventures and their worth
    The quest to which his poem gave birth

    But this, of course, is wishful thinking
    Many late nights
    Heavy blinking
    As I scroll through endless posts
    Some are modest, others boast
    Countless theories twist the mind
    Countless knots in my behind
    My wife is calling me to bed
    ” I’ ll be right there ”
    The twelfth time said

    So I must go and prove my solve
    will it hold firm or just dissolve
    And might it come that I may measure
    Something sweeter than the treasure
    Was that not the author’s goal
    That in our search we be made whole
    And find again the joys in life
    that oft are robbed by stress and strife.

    Yes, I have stepped on a few toes
    A true blue cynic Heaven knows
    A new kid coming to the block
    Some say cool, while others mock

    If you are one that I offended
    I apologize, and am contrite
    And now so that this may be ended
    I bid you well and say goodnight.


  26. There’s a bear somewhere
    someone said.
    It’s not really fair,
    Now I dread.

    I looked all around
    as my head was turning,
    Then I fell to the ground
    with my stomach churning.

    Why would someone play such a trick?
    Been my friend for so long
    now I’m sick.
    It’s okay he’s always wrong.


    I sat with my brother, it was quarter to ten
    A coffee shop bookstore, our meeting with Fenn

    In came a man, yes this might be him
    The hat seemed right and from the side did the grin

    Got up from the table, the time had come
    But as I got closer I had question some

    Hello to the man, “my name is Tom”
    He smiled at me, what had I done?

    And then I remembered the scant and tarry
    As the man said hello, my name is Larry

    It wasn’t the man we had come to meet
    But my day was made by such a greet

    He didn’t care and he didn’t know
    But was rather happy at the kind hello

    Perhaps the treasure isn’t really gold
    But more important the greetings told

    And Forrest kept his word and mine
    At ten o’clock he was right on time

    This time I knew that I was right
    No doubt it was Forrest, such and obvious sight

    Excited I was but remained very calm
    As Forrest said “hi, you must be Tom”

    I’ll always remember the moments you see
    As it wasn’t just Forrest, my brother and me

    For the rest of my life this moment will carry
    Equally now, I’ll remember Larry

  28. The Thrill of The Chase
    Is mighty fine
    But the Joy of Discovery
    Is purely divine

  29. …And inspired some not so great poetry as well Dal. Here is my modest offering…

    There once was a lady from Texas
    Who searched treasure maps to find “X” s.
    She found so much pleasure
    While searching for treasure
    And clues but could not find the nexus.

    Excellent work fellow searchers. Some of you bring tears to my eyes:-)

  30. This Gentleman named Forrest Fenn
    Has told us again and again
    That where warm waters halt
    Is the key to the vault (wanted to use gestalt: great word)
    Oh the power he holds with his pen.

  31. Colorado Rocky Mountain High oh how June is so nigh.
    Can’t wait to find the gold when Forrest’s trove is so bold.
    As it’s no place for the meek I can’t wait to take a peak.
    He hints of riches new and old I surely have to wait so it won’t be so cold.
    He says Begin it where warm waters halt of course that’s just to far to walk.
    As I search I look like a clown and hope that I don’t drown for the Home of Brown is further down.
    When I recognize heavy loads and water high then I will know Forrest was not telling a lie.
    Treasure X marks the spot I already know I’m right on the dot. I have already found my blaze when I go back I will be so amazed.
    If I go in peace then I will put my home up for lease.
    It’s a start if you search with your heart. If I use my imigination then I have all the education.
    I hope that I haven’t misunderstood I know the blaze should be on the wood.
    When I look quickly down it should be all good.
    It may be worth the cold when I find the treasure to hold.
    I will then have the title to the gold
    That is what I am told. !!!!!!!:)

    Yes I made a poem lol

  32. As I read the poetry Fenn inspired in all of us,
    I’m reminded of research on a mount called Parnassus.
    For the rest of my poem I would ad-lib
    But I spent to much time researching scrib!

  33. my apologies, in advance, to Mr. Fenn


    I didn’t find the treasure
    with the poem of nine good clues
    Fenn said “don’t mess with it”
    But I didn’t hear that news.

    So I tossed it like a salad
    and mixed words all around
    Switched letters in a jumble
    And here’s what I then found :
    – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

    gol’D’ has got it’s glitter

    and the treasu’R’e has ‘I’t’s blaze

    brow’N’ is kind of mee’K’ right now

    and ‘M’arvel has n’O’ gaze

    c’R’eek is filled with h’E’avy l’O’ads

    and e’V’er dr’A’wing nigh

    heavy ‘L’oads a lot of work

    the wa’T’ers much too h’I’gh

    i haven’t found that ca’N’yon yet

    b’E’low the home of brown.

    (my “key word focus” is a blur

    the treasure’s safe and sound)

    – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

    My capital solve solves something else
    I think you will concur
    But great adventure awaits, my friends !
    On this I’m surely sure.

    Alan M.

    • idahoHaldol – the searcher formerly known as idahoel–
      Good and interesting poem.

      Of all the words in TTOTC. I often wondered if Ovaltine was a Vital One!

  34. Waiting on a beautiful night
    To strike at the stroke of midnight
    The foxes will be around
    So get the hounds out of town!

  35. A Silly Rendition of the World’s Most Memorized Poem: (Just playin’, Mr. Fenn)

    As I have gone alone in there
    And with my treasures bold
    I stashed them by a grizzly bear
    As she slept in the cold

    Begin it where warm waters halt
    And take it in the canyon down
    But do it rather nonchalant
    In case there’s anyone around

    From there it’s no place for the meek
    The end is ever drawing neigh
    You’ve searched the mountains peak to peak
    Your head is light, you’re naturally high

    If you’ve been wise and found the blaze
    Look quickly down your quest to cease
    You were so sure this was the place
    Another forehead starts to crease

    So why is it that I must go
    And leave my trove for all to seek
    I wonder, will somebody know
    This special place that’s so unique

    So hear me all and listen good
    Your effort will be worth the cold
    A family trip into the wood (s)
    Is every bit as good as gold.

    I hope I don’t get sued for copyright infringement. 🙂 Dal, please don’t put this in your book. And on that note, this guy is headed to NOSF. Yes, I am off to search for gold . . . on the beaches of North or South Florida. Gotta take care of more family business. Might as well take my new metal detector and try to find some tourist’s watch or ring. I’ll return it if it has some identification on it. Don’t worry.
    And then, between the 5th and 8th of June, it’s NOSF to search for ff gold. I can wait no longer. Cheers all.

    • Very excellent, MacSweeney !
      When I find all that gold, I’ll be able to buy all the silver I could ever want !

  36. There once was a searcher named Dal,
    With Esmarelda his faithful old gal.
    In search of Fenns treasure, to the Rockies he went,
    But only once did he stop, because of a dent.

    An otter, an Indian, a shaft he endured,
    A gps coordinate, that Forrest called absurd.
    Undaunted he’d go, with Goofy in charge,
    If he could just find the gold, he’d be living life large.

    Ever mindful of a Gypsy, turning every stone,
    Knowing he must keep up with his tired old bones.
    With more and more searchers, out on the chase,
    He knows not to tarry, he must win the race!

    Then to his dismay, a Jolly Roger appears,
    His hopes become dashed, he trembles in tears.
    All the miles he’s traveled, extreme heat and cold,
    The chest is the prize of the PIRATEOFGOLD…


  37. Six hundred eighty four miles from door to desert.
    Eleven hours from streaming sweat and legs hurt.
    Could it all be just a coincidence?
    Did Forrest Fenn trick me with words and tense?
    Or am I really as close as I think and feel
    while searching for blazes and Browns to reveal.
    I’ve been in there twice and left without gold,
    Third times the charm, or so I’ve been told.
    Confidence boils over, imagination runs wild,
    Clues and hints abound through the eyes of a child.
    If this isn’t the place, I should hide a new chest,
    Because the solve that I have fits the poem the best.
    Others will come, it’s a matter of time,
    When they find what I found in Forrest Fenn’s rhyme.
    Perhaps it is true they’ve already been there,
    As many have passed on their way to somewhere.
    Special to Forrest Fenn? I believe so,
    But you might laugh if you knew where I go.
    It is okay, because I laugh at you too,
    When I hear your ideas and where you’ve been to.
    One thing I think that I’m sure that I know,
    Is the poem tells you where you should go.
    It doesn’t make you guess or divine,
    it draws you a picture like a map with a line.
    Of course this is all just IMO
    I really have no idea where to go.

  38. Laugh now. Look for Tennessee tags, kayak on top, trailering a Harley!!

        • Dam us southerners think alike I was hope ing you was looking in the dessert 🙂

          • If you would stop throwing them on the ground you wouldn’t have to look under them! 🙂

          • Dang I never thought of that !! Happy trails Tennessee but I hope you don’t get ate by a hungry grizz Email pics of your journey 🙂 so I can say done looked there already looked there lol

    • pirate-
      Are you going to Idaho?
      Very few folks are searching in Idaho.
      You’d be less crowded in Idaho.
      I think you should go to Idaho.

        • Got news flash for ya if it’s on a back road it’s still might just ask ole Kentucky tags 🙂

      • I’m thinking by the time he gets to Wyoming that wind kickin out there gonna take that kayak and Harley ppl should just look for tenn tags lol

          • Lol Take lots of pics so I can have a good laugh. Ohhhh and beware of the grizzley on beaver creek no joke she got cubs

          • Alright Tennessee watch the road I don’t wanna have to call Kentucky to pull you out of a ditch from texting and driving Or maybe I do then I can pass u up lol

          • Dang I was really wanting to see what you look like so if I run into you on the trail I could push u off and run to the next beer can before u do:-)

          • Sounds like she’s diggin you and is fishing for an email so she can contact you off the site.
            Just guard your spot if you chat with her….I heard she made a moose cry her last trip. She be dangerous!!

          • I even pulled a grizzleys tooth for stareing at me a lil to long but hey he is from Tennessee Country boys can survive 🙂

        • For a second there, I thought I should have kept the moose info to myself…but seems he doesn’t scare too easily.

          • Hi Stephanie – I know it’s off the subject, but do you remember Forrest saying if someone found the chest they wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret? Didn’t he say something like 98% of the people would tell? I wonder what all that means.

          • Means the majority of the people want the glory of saying we found it 🙂 the other majority want to just drive the rest of us nuts by making us wonder who found it 🙂 I mean how many ppl can keep that quite very few my new roof and windmill will give away that I found it lol

          • Hi Pam, I had a fun solve for that very thing. I thought it could be on a church property. There is a church in West Yellowstone. It’s a catholic church. I won’t tell you how I made my solve to get there, but I bet some can figure it out. Ok, I’ll say that I started at the Totem Cafe(you need to find what that is now). I talked the barmaid into letting me go back into the kitchen to film because I knew a guy who used to work there. I filmed it and sent it to Forrest feeling I for sure had the only video of wwwh LOL. It was pretty funny. So my solve included the Catholic church which would be protected land. If you look up the history on that land you will see that the lady who started it, made a promise that if her boys came home from war, she would build the church. It reminded me of Forrest’s promise. There was a stone front under the stairs that I thought it could be behind….row 4, stone 22(22 beads in bracelet) and 23(the plot his dad was in). I figured there is a place you should listen good. I felt there is also someone else that you can tell a secret to that’s at a church. I thought maybe he wanted us to question that statement about one being dead. I thought that’s how he knew it was there…someone who took an oath would tell him. I think this is more than you asked for LOL…the short answer is yes…I remember 😉

  39. I didn’t think he was churchy. If you researched the church, it was only built in 1950. He was born in 1930. He mentions going there every summer till he was around 18 or so. It was my thought that, that piece of property was where his family kept their fishing equipment. If you read “flywater” the book he speaks about…the author said that his rainbow was the arch of the fly pole. So I felt if you are going to “find” Forrest’s Rainbow, you would need to find the spot where they kept their fishing stuff. He probably looked forward every spring to seeing if his treasures were still waiting for him. I looked up old images of the church and realized the front part had just been put on with the rocks. So he could have created a little vault area that wasn’t part of the “structure” of the church. One side is steps and the other is a “slide” with an iron railing like he tells us he slid down on school. Maybe I’ll upload my Totem Cafe kitchen sink video. I sound lame, because I nervously drunk giggle a lot 😉

  40. Thanks Stephanie and Diggin G. I bet it would be tough for sure to keep such a great discovery a secret. Forrest did say if someone solves the poem he would tell us right?

  41. I am not trying to be a grouch (it just comes naturally) but could you please use this page for poetry related discussions and contributions only..
    I’ll bet you can find another more appropriate page to carry on about searching in Montana…

    • Dal, is there any way to move all of our miscellaneous chatter to a thread by the same name? 🙂 You can delete any of my non-poetry posts if you like.

      • CJ
        A blog is kind of like the Catholic church…
        If I delete comments upon which others have commented all holy hell breaks lose. Satan itself is set loose to prey on all manner of living things. Men, women, children and musicians will descend directly to Hades….okay..maybe not that bad but…I can’t delete comments without repercussions of the “holy cow, why did my comment go way down there…can you fix this post Dal so my comments go where I put them?” kind.
        I can easily delete anything..I have the power of … Blogman… however I will pay for such administrative dalliences in the future..and then I have even more to repair..

        To avoid getting an exorcist involved it’s just so much easier if everyone simply stays close to talking about poetry on this post…


        • Look! Up in the sky!
          It’s a bird, a plane, a flying ham.
          No! What could be so high?
          It’s Dal! The flying Blogman!

          • Pirate, Hear me !! and Hear me now
            I’ll put a shot across yer bow
            If ye should sail into my waters
            With yer wife and sons and daughters

            Oh yes me canon’s shootin’ fine
            And I’ll put one in your behind
            Of course it shouldn’t hurt a fellow
            Being made of white marshmallow

            But you can fill me mug with grog
            As we sit yarnin’ on a log
            Swappin’ stories in the shadow
            Down in southwest Colorado

            Cause’ THAT’s where the treasure be.

          • MacSweeney, MacSweeney, you’ve fell off your rocker!
            Threaten this Pirate, you’ll see Davey Jones locker!

            So fire your cannons,they’ll do me no harm.
            If you’re looking in Colorado, you couldn’t hit a barn!

            Your waters I’ll sail, and pillage it all, you’ll be crying “momma”, when the gang plank you fall.

            Or drinks we can share, tales we can tell.
            I’ve been many places, stories I know well.

            Just don’t be crying, whining, or moaning,
            For to see my treasure, you’ll have to come ito Wyoming!!!

            Arrgh 🙂

        • Dal has been put into quite a quandry
          It’s not about whether to do his laundry
          He can’t delete a post
          Because he’s the host
          Of a blog that’s the opposite of snobbery

          • CJ you’re right in your supposition.
            Dal’s in a pickle, to delete is revolution.
            So bide by his rules, your words he won’t disregard.
            Yet if he deletes mine,
            I’ll just holler ARRGH!

          • However, he shows no hesitation
            To perform a cyber operation
            He simply slashes with a line the untrue entry
            That is fine
            For recently there was a statement
            that was in deep need of abatement
            And for his calming of my quaking
            I owe him a fruit milkshaking

          • Was someone’s post deleted?
            I’m too poor to pay attention.
            Amassing Uranium that’s depleted,
            Someone deserves detention.

            …I reckon.

          • Macweeney macweeney I have a feelin u not gonna find no shiney pennyyyyy

          • You answer all wrong, but I’ll give you time.
            You see to be here, your words must all rhyme

          • A short reply to DG
            Credit: you don’t give me any
            but I’m glad you made that comment
            Cause I ain’t lookin” for no penny. 🙂

          • 🙂 best of luck macsweeney I’ll take back it back I’m just being a meaney weeney

          • No pennies for Mac,
            Busch beer for a Gypsy.
            This pirateofgold,
            And Jim Beam be tipsy! 🙂


        • Aaarrrgh !!!

          I’m off to Florida in the morn’
          Takin’ care of family business
          The opposite end of born 🙁

          I’ll be pirate training at the shore
          And hopefully be finding more
          Than sunburnt skin and sand in me shoes
          Though I hear that’s part of pirate dues

          So travel well, be safe and sound
          And give a holler when you’ve found
          The fabulous treasure of Mr. Fenn
          I’m sure you’ll find it . . . but then again

          Just maybe . . . It’s in COLORADO !!

  42. In my cabinets high above,
    My cooking spices make a trove.
    Stacks of herbs too high to measure
    Make great meals for some to treasure.
    And while my jars are up afar,
    Forrest keeps his in a drawer!

  43. such a great page, ty brothers and sisters,
    guess i will get down and roll wit da twisters,
    cogone’s post was bold and had me worried thinking,
    but soon i envisioned him and cognito drinking,
    don’t sweat this one, one of you got this,
    you’ll find gold and then be gone in a whisp…

  44. Don’t worry Mac, cuz I got your back
    All these Wyoming jacks talking CO smack
    They don’t know what the key word be,
    Nor have they found a word that is key.
    The chest lies between 37 and 41,
    Come west of CD cuz the fun has begun.
    IF you’re not in CO, you’re wasting your time,
    But I’m out of your way, and your out of mine.
    Good luck on your quest to find the chest
    Cuz only the chest sets the best from the rest.


    • Between 37 and 41?
      Not enough there to get the job done.

      Come on up to 140 or more,
      The state to be in, is just next door!

      (figure that one out)

      • Well, basing it on yer attitude
        My first guess had to do with latitude.
        But yer numbers make no sense to me
        I’ll chalk that up to half past three (Florida time anyway)

        • If the numbers make no sense,to a teacher I’m amazed.
          Glad I went to private school, I like my ham glazed. (It rhymes)

          They are not pages, keys, nor are they coordinates for you.
          Just a simple number to check your IQ!!

          • As Mensa is my hangout
            I think you’ll understand
            Even though I’m a non-smoker
            Marlboro is my brand

            (It also rhymes) 🙂

      • I finally got some sleep
        And my thoughts are back in order
        37-41 are of course the lats of N/S border
        But the “come on up to 140”
        is rather vague, somewhat confusing
        Perhaps it is the sippy-stuff that lately you’ve been using.
        So again I wish you well in all your pirate-ing and roaming
        But me thinks you simply went astray
        In a state they call Wyoming??

      • My friend, your number is simply one low,
        I could narrow it down but it’s also below.
        The numbers you spew are not from the chase,
        But the number of times you’ve had egg on your face!
        Good luck in your quest cuz you’re gonna need it
        especially if you don’t know how to read it!

        • Bravo, Michael, Bravo !!
          You hit him squarely in the bow
          And from my point of view
          He’s bailing heavy loads right now.

          Or . . .

          The only water high he’ll see
          Is when it get’s up past his knee

          (Don’t need an s, he’s only got one knee. Aaarrrrggh!!! )

          • Hère you go Michael and Mac……

            I sat straight up as if a bad dream,
            To find Mike and Mac had formed them a team.
            Shots they do say, across my bow,
            They’re milking the bull, not the cow.

            Both blind in one eye, can’t see out the other,
            I hope they soon find that the bull doesn’t have an udder!
            Yet try as they might,it’s to no avail,
            Jolly Roger’s flying high, this Pirate will sail.

            To you two I say, good luck in your quest,
            You’ll be with the cows, when I have the chest.
            Not finding the gold,for you two is a bummer,
            But you both could be stars, in Dumb and Dumber!!


  45. I looked high over here
    I looked low over there.
    Didn’t need any winter gear
    Never got tracked by a waking bear

    My effort would be worth the cold
    If I were crazy or more bold
    I loved the chase, If truth be told
    But I found memories instead of gold

    No cup of coffee or hot tea
    No ff carved into a tree
    No blaze of glory or jail for me.
    Loving life is the real key

    Don’t need to slide and crash my car
    or fall o’er the waters cold and far
    I’ll eat my sandwich and protein bar
    Then pull up a log and sit under a star

    ΩΩ aureen

  46. From warm to cold, and wet to dry,
    River to land, then ground to sky.
    Day to night when the predators fly,
    Listen good, the brave will die.

  47. Oh how I love
    Dal’s poetry page.
    Where everyone on here
    Writes like a sage.

    First there’s the witty
    Pirate of Gold,,,
    His views of the treasure
    Aarrgh ever so bold.

    McSweeny is funny
    And a smart kind of guy.
    His compliments lift me,,,
    I can’t even say why.

    I’m digging’ Diggin’ Gypsy’s
    Stories of gold pursuit.
    Her little southern drawl
    I find to be a hoot!

    And Stephanie’s quick
    With the limericks.
    While watching her closely
    I’m learning new tricks.

    And when I’d like
    To smile I may
    Read poems from Tom, Mike D,
    Navigator, and CJ.

    Here’s to the poets
    Whose names I have missed.
    Your efforts are worthy
    And hard to resist.

    Although sometimes
    I must agree,
    The characters here
    Scare the bejeezez from me!

    And Dal’s the very best
    Blog host ever
    Posting f’s hints
    That may point to the treasure.

    Now my poem is done
    And so,,,
    Perhaps we can all meet
    In New Mexi-wyo-rado.

      • Cindy . . . oh, Cindy
        Now flutter my sails
        Minds pushed by the same wind
        But your course prevails

        Long did my mind tarry
        As I laid out my ropes
        Now I’m wrecked on the rocks
        So far gone are my hopes

        Of wearing the crown
        Of the excellent poet
        There sits regally you
        And the rest of us know it.

        Brava !!

      • Pog….bic in the air? You must be my age. We’re supposed to be using cells in the air now.

        • They’ll confiscate them now. And I am not your age.However old you are, I’m younger! 🙂

          • Younger ha! I’m sure I’ve seen you at a Steve Miller concert before and you bought me beer, because I wasn’t legal.

            Wait…I need to make this topic appropriate.

            There once was a pirate with a bic…..
            He rode his Harley really quick…..
            Diggin Gypsy liked him cause of his…..


            Great sense of humor….

            I might need to be schooled by Cindy to help with my poetry…..

          • I’m the furthest thing from Catholic. They might even have me listed in their book of sins.

          • Our Stephanie’s a lover and not a fighter
            Upset that POG has lost his lighter.
            In age they are equal but Steph is a cutie.
            I call it a draw,,,no age before beauty!

          • That little rhyme was sweet and dandy. Hey little girl, want some candy?

          • Pog you are starting to get a bit scary. I think it’s time to do some hail mary…..s.

            I’m hearing there is a good chance there will be a news report on The Today Show on Friday about Yellowstone. They sometimes reschedule if some news story comes up…but if all the stars align…friday we should see something about the Chase.

          • Pirate

            I’ve heard it said that
            Liquor is quicker and candy is dandy,,,
            A beer for Stephanie, chocolate for me.
            When hunting for gold this may come in handy
            As she brings home the treasure,,,
            My consolation, Ghirardelli!

          • Cindy M. –
            Are you from the west
            Cause most would fail the test
            Spelling that company name
            of San Francisco fame.

          • Jay Mac

            I’m a Texas gal
            Though I must confess
            I googled so I shouldn’t
            Have to guess 🙂

            Cindy Mac

          • Oooohhhhhh . . .

            2 Ys U R
            2 Ys U B
            I C U R 2 Ys
            4 me !!

            (An oldie but goodie) 🙂

        • MacSweeney 🙂

          You’re so funny
          You have me hooked
          Here’s one back at you
          From my autograph book,,,

          U R

          2 Sweet
          2 Be

          4 Gotten

      • Pirateofgold has called me out
        and has freely admitted he’s full of bull,
        not to mention his solve lacks clout,
        his skull is half empty, and his brain is half full.

        While his heart’s in the right place,
        and his Harley looks fine,
        His head in a hole
        Bends his body like 9.

        Since he forgot his plug,
        It’s too bad his ship has set sail,
        while dragging the anchor,
        with no bucket or pail.

        If ever we meet I’ll toast him with rum,
        As long as he tells everyone he can,
        Between me and Macsweeny I am the dumb,
        and between me and my fiance’ I am the man!

        • Ha! If that’s all you got run back to your girl,
          With your pink tutu, and your hair in a curl.

          Prance and dance, till your heart content,
          To upstage this Pirate, your time is better spent.

          Yet rum we can share, when your dancing is done.
          I’m still your Huckleberry, come and git ya’ sum!!


          • Let’s call a truce,
            You have a great trip,
            Keep your jib loose,
            And steady your ship.
            Get you a string
            To tie your hat down.
            In the state of Wyoming
            The wind blows around.
            Good luck on your quest
            And I really mean it.
            As many have tried,
            But none have seen it.

        • A big moron and a little moron sat on a fence.
          Who fell off?

          The big moron.

          Cause the little moron was a little more on.

          I never understood why they were on a fence to begin with. Wouldn’t they get splinter in their
          bu_ _ s ?? Oh, I guess it was because they were morons. I think I’m a little more off. Huh??

          • Ouch I felt your implication, lucky for you I’m on vacation.

            More off the the fence you think you be?
            There is one more on,
            you’d be three!

          • My little joke was not at you.
            Nor Michael D, nor Bubba Lou (rhymes)
            His little comment on him the dumb,
            So I just had to show him sumb.

            Great quip btw.

  48. Another Kind of Hidden Treasure

    Two searchers met in a yellow wood
    Each one’s charm to engross . . . the other
    Long they stood
    And shared what parts of their lives they could
    Till the edge had gotten much too close

    Then parted they by divergent tack
    On trails that neither one full knew
    Despite the longing to head back
    False hopes it might yet fill a lack
    Both kept on seeking to stay true

    So on their journeys they did travel
    in the search of treasure Fenn
    His clever poem clues to unravel
    Their goal to swing down hard the gavel
    Declaring victory where they’d been

    And so both kept locked in the mind
    That which would be thought forbidden
    Two searchers met in a wood, a fate so blind
    Finding treasure of another kind
    A treasure they’d keep forever hidden

    (My mind was heavily Frostbitten tonight, so i thought I’d try to write in his style. Too weird??)

    • MacSweeney… Oh, MacSweeney
      Your poetry rings true.
      Because I love your writing style
      I give the crown to you.

      (That actually gave me goosebumps. Go figure!!)

        • Oh blush if you must !
          Sweet, spicy southern cooking !
          That’s what life’s about …

          Haiku and goodnight:-)

        • I love the taste of morning coffee
          And I enjoy my sweet Texas tea
          Although I’m truly a Diet Coke gal
          Dr. Pepper cures what ails me!!!

          • What ails me this morning came on without warning. An adventure through a boulder field left a gash on my shin. If my own body would simply quit attacking my skin, then sweet Texas tea would cure me again!

          • So do I Nor. Hope that shin is on the mend. Here’s a big Texas hug from me to make up for the Texas tea.

            Although the poem is lame, the sincerity is there. Regards.

          • New Year’s Resolution

            No sweets, soft drinks and fatty foods lately,,,
            But I sure miss the taste of my Dr. Pepper greatly!

      • Thanks, Mike D.
        Stranger things could happen.
        But nothing beats a pink tutu. 🙂 (sorry)

        • Fenn likes attract
          On that you can bet
          Like Fenn’s Romeo
          And Juliet,,,

          Star crossed treasure hunters,
          An interesting concept.

  49. Too Far to Walk

    As I came upon some Mysterious Writings
    By a Scrapbooker from Old Santa Fe,
    My and Others’ Adventurous callings
    Were but a Gypsy’s Kiss away.

    The Thrill of The Chase Chat was my only thought
    As I Waded Up a Cold Creek Without a Paddle.
    I had Gone Fishing on a Mountain Walk
    On sock and shoe rather than horse and saddle!

    My Sainted mother once taught me a lesson
    during a serious talk,
    But I never grasped her suggestion
    to turn around if its Too Far to Walk.

  50. Take heed upon entering this school of Fenn
    There is much more to it than paper and pen.
    Oh, you’ll do your research that’s for sure
    In history and the rockies pure.

    There’ll be no paddle up your creek
    Hunting the treasure that you seek.
    Only heavy loads and desperate sighs
    Wondering trails that will make you wise.

    Trappers cabin, the home of Brown
    Put in the Salt up and around.
    Not too far you see, just on your left
    Where Beowolf and Thor guard the chest.

    Salomon the wise awaits you there
    For recognition of your fate, Beware!
    Three outlaws on the outskirts stand
    Butch, Sundance and Jesse James Band.

    In their hideout all reposed, the door prize
    A ginger joker much to your surprise,
    In a golden pine cone nest
    Sitting there upon a chest.

    First find Lewis and not Clark
    Do your homework and really hark.
    One red “F” or “T” on your folder
    Means you graduate, with honors, game over!

    When you read this you will know
    Even if Forrest never does say so
    The end is ever drawing nigh
    Nay, the end is here, Big Sigh! IMHO

    • Dang that sounds so complicated !!! Can’t we just keep looking under beer cans 🙂

    • Christine??
      Is this the same Christine that claimed to have found the chest and spent three days with it but couldn’t retrieve it at that time?( a few months ago it seems like). Also, I like your red F an T line…please share what state you will be collecting the chest in?

    • “F” or “T” = Effort .. yes?

      and red is referring to red tea , i take it

      i take it with 2 lumps and milk i mean

  51. A tribute to May Angelou….Who died today.

    Still I Rise

    You may write me down in history
    With your bitter, twisted lies,
    You may tread me in the very dirt
    But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

    Does my sassiness upset you?
    Why are you beset with gloom?
    ‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
    Pumping in my living room.

    Just like moons and like suns,
    With the certainty of tides,
    Just like hopes springing high,
    Still I’ll rise.

    Did you want to see me broken?
    Bowed head and lowered eyes?
    Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
    Weakened by my soulful cries.

    Does my haughtiness offend you?
    Don’t you take it awful hard
    ‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
    Diggin’ in my own back yard.

    You may shoot me with your words,
    You may cut me with your eyes,
    You may kill me with your hatefulness,
    But still, like air, I’ll rise.

    Does my sexiness upset you?
    Does it come as a surprise
    That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
    At the meeting of my thighs?

    Out of the huts of history’s shame
    I rise
    Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
    I rise
    I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
    Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
    Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
    I rise
    Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
    I rise
    Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
    I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
    I rise
    I rise
    I rise.

    Maya Angelou-

  52. It is for the pleasure of others that I put it on,
    That frilly and netted pink tutu.
    I wear it in public and hear, “His mind is gone!”
    But I made a promise, what would you do?

    Deep down, a part of me feels so free
    As I twirl around in my living room.
    Until my fiance’ catches me,
    And reminds me She’s the bride and I’m the groom!

    • Cindy Mac and I do jest
      But Michael D., YOU ARE THE BEST !!

      I believe you are the only one to whom FF gave a compliment on his/her poetry. Jealous me ?? A bit. But in awe. Awwwwwww . . .

      Love your writings.

    • Awwww… 🙂

      With Forrest Fenn
      Michael D’s found favor
      Because of his Suessian
      Poetry flavor.

      And his choice of attire
      Won’t give his fiance’ regrets
      Unless he accessorizes
      With pink fish nets.

      So way to go Michael D
      The crown belongs to you
      And it doesn’t hurt that it matches
      Your frilly pink tutu.

      (Now I’m a blushin’…)

  53. Mac, I cannot ever compete
    with the words you rhyme and time so sweet.
    I am but a Suesser, if you get my drift,
    Of little thought, but my pen is swift.
    I’m much like a rapper in a battle royale,
    Or a lover wring prose to a prison pen pal.
    Whatever pops in ends up on paper,
    Like I’m a recorder or a courtroom note taker.
    There’s not much deep meaning in most of my rhymes,
    Its like watching the news or reading the Times.
    What I really enjoy is reading this page
    While brewing hot coffee for minimum wage,
    And dreaming one day I may be so bold,
    As to leave Colorado with a chest full of gold!

    • 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

      I’m busy shreddin’ papers
      So I’ll have to check in later
      That is, of course, unless I’m eaten
      By an alligator

      (Two nickle poem: cheap)

  54. Mac, I do not try to boast,
    But I do believe I know your spot.
    What I wonder about it most
    is what altitude you’ve got.
    I KNOW you know a thing or two
    about the treasure trove location,
    An altimeter check couldn’t hurt you
    While you’re West on your vacation.
    If I am wrong then please forgive,
    I may assume too much.
    I’m not as wise as the years I’ve lived,
    But sometimes I act like more than such!

    • More admiration
      Without hesitation

      Though a poetry buddy
      I must leave it muddy

      Below 10 and 2
      That simply must do

      I’ll know in a week
      if I found the place meek

      Sometimes yes, sometime no
      I simply must go
      To answer the question

  55. Excellent work! I feel like a jerk.
    I should have known you could cover your own!
    I am but a week behind you,
    And just a scant or two away.
    I can’t help but think of what would I do?
    If I miss tomorrow what you find today!

    • I see no reason to “like a jerk” feel
      At this point in the season your question was real
      I am sure it is common in the thrill of the chase
      To wonder, ” Are his solve and mine the same place?
      What if we’re both right and I get there late
      To find only footprints, will that be my fate?”

      Yet we’ve seen endless mind paths in figuring Fenn
      as we try to out think him this time and again
      So my friend do not fret as I tread in your view
      For I think now in my case this statement is true
      that a name will be added to those many bold
      Who walked away rich . . . without any gold

  56. VG Boss has spoken
    His tune is quite old
    The mystery’s been broken
    He wants us all told

    Fold up your tents
    Stop reading the book
    We don’t have the sense
    To know where to look

    But I think the fun could easily last
    just as it has in scenic Montana
    If we all started looking very fast
    Somewhere around Fort Wayne Indiana.

    • I’m jumpin’ on a train
      And headin’ to Ft. Wayne
      My search will start downtown
      At the home of Walleye Brown

      Thanks for the tip, Dal.
      (Oh, wait . . . Ft. Wayne IS 300 west of Toledo, correct?)

      • I dunno.
        I’m on antihystamines right now because of a wasp stign.
        A bit light headed; haven’t read much lately.
        But I love Dal’s poems. A lighter side of him. Not that he’s heavy . . . nor dark and mysterious.

    • Nice poem Dal,,,

      Did VG Boss pass the test?
      Or do we still have a chance at the chest?????

      Sorry about my belated timing.
      Darn, I wish I could stop rhyming 🙂

  57. I know I’m no Einstein
    Sometimes I feel like a fool
    I’m hooked on every line,
    By a man sitting by a pool.

    The food looks real tasty
    And it’s over my head
    But I can’t be too hasty
    For I’m not sure what I read.

    • Oh, that’s why the fish didn’t eat the food !!
      He didn’t know that it was really gude. (Had to push that one)

  58. Greetings to all
    Yes, I’m one of THOSE lurkers
    Though I’ve so enjoyed the stories
    From all of you searchers

    Because of this page
    I will come out of hiding
    Not much of a poet
    But at the bit I’m biting

    I’ve read each and every poem
    Have gone from laughing to smirking
    Some have left me smiling
    And some have been tear jerking

    There’s sure a lot of talent
    From those looking for the treasure
    Just wanted to let you all know
    From you, I’ve gotten so much pleasure

    I’m also grateful of my travels
    Brought to me from Forrest Fenn
    But it’s to him and him alone
    My solve I will pen

    Maybe now, time and again
    I’ll offer up bits of myself
    I’m certainly not an old biddy
    And don’t like sitting on the shelf

  59. Welcome, from a bit of a newbie myself.
    Thanks for your poem. Very nice. 🙂

    Don’t sit on the shelf, lest you expire
    We’ve been dumping for days
    And of that we do tire.


    If spring is time to rest and think,
    And summertime is when we play,
    Then is autumn time to get out there?
    When winter is on it’s way.

  61. There is a time for everything.
    And worry adds not a day.
    Peace that a grain of faith brings
    will guide you on your way.
    Life is more than flesh and bone
    Our spirit greets each new day
    In a life well lived you’re never alone.
    In hearts and memories you remain.
    God speed friend.

  62. Owed to Forrest Fenn (Also known as the Turquoise Bracelet)

    The collector of string knows what its worth
    To seek a path to your hearts’ desire.
    He probably reads Dal’s blog with mirth
    Sitting by the warmth of his juniper fire.

    One holds the secret that is key,
    The rest will follow all aglow.
    But me, myself and I make three,
    We all attend his puppet show.

    Once in a while he pulls and tilts
    And movements happen at the other end.
    The master of puppets’ story is gilt
    Of bronze, of gold, of Forrest Fenn.

    He hears and listens and sometimes chimes in,
    As he watches his passion play unfold.
    Knowing all the while only one will win,
    Though all in the Chase will find some gold.

    Michael D

    • Doesn’t sound very Seuss-like to me.
      A very nice “owed” Michael D. (Oh, unintentional rhyme. 2 points)

    • Eau de Seuss
      (Seussian quotes for the treasure hunter with a bit of CindyM thrown in.)

      ~“Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.”~ Friend,
      How much does this sound like our own Mr. Fenn?

      ~“It is better to know how to learn than to know.”~
      Learning skills will serve you well wherever you go.

      ~“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment, until it becomes a memory.”~
      So get outside with a spouse, a friend, or a kid maybe three.

      ~“You’re off to great places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting, So get on your way!”~

      ~“Kid, you’ll move mountains!”~ Oh, what a great way
      To find motivation to conquer the day.

      ~“Today was good. Today was fun. Tomorrow is another one.”~
      Have some fun each day rather than worry over what’s to come.

      ~“It’s opener there in the wide open air.”~
      The world is waiting for you if you’ll just get out there.

      ~“Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the things you can think up if only you try!”~

      ~“Oh, the thinks you can think!”~ If only you choose…
      To find treasure, it’s out there,,, You’ve nothing to lose!

  63. Great work Michael D. masterful story telling, as I would expect. May Ur plans unfold and my dreams be told.

  64. By a wise One I’ve been told,
    there are invisible treasures
    more priceless than gold.
    Love, Hope & Faith
    will always endure.
    But its another treasure
    the chase will ensure.
    Truth though invisible
    sets people free.
    Who shelters children
    if not you And Me.
    Unabashed truth
    restores Liberty.
    and personal response
    is a test of bravery.

    Now that I’m out of the chase for health reasons, it’s easier to reflect and Understand other things. Hope you are all still having fun.

    • It sounds like you’re still in the chase, at least in spirit!
      Hope you find fun and joy in each day and I’m happy to think we are a part of it.

      Very creative poem:-)

      • I don’t recall being introduced to you Tom, but am always pleased with good news. Where does your search take you. I dropped out of the search but really enjoy hearing others stories, and am always happy to help someone else if you want any of my info. Because of deep Montana roots I only search there; and unfortunately live a long distance away.

  65. @Mac, Cindy, MichaelD thanks for your kindness and well wishes. As I’m trying to help family members out of state with health issues too, I’m definately out of the chase. When I have time, it’s great fun to see check in and watch other’s stories unfold! Best wishes always. Enjoy the summer flower by flower!

  66. Emails I get, from many as of late,
    All of you doubters, why all the hate?

    The treasure is real, and soon I will hide,
    You’ll be so surprised, to what’s all inside.

    Times I know, I can be rude, funny or snooty,
    I’m just passing off a little of my pirate booty!


    Okay, I know.. The ending doesn’t sound right 😆

  67. Onward up many a rushing creek
    worn out ‘chasers’ their fishing hole seek.
    Around just one more bend…
    of the stream you peek.
    Though your feet may get sore
    And your green waders leak.

    You’ll look up, and down streams
    Look ’em over with care
    And finally you’ll say, I choose to fish there.

    Your can full of worms, and hat full of flies
    Your confidence soars to the highest high.
    It’s opener there in the wide open air
    Here comes a trout, no wait it’s a pair!

    There’s fun to be done
    as long as you’re staying
    Come out little fishies.
    Let’s get to playing.
    Waiting and waiting
    for a trout, bass or pike
    What could be wrong?
    I’ve had nary a strike.

    There is a secret in Jellystone
    I’m happy to share.
    You must listen closely,
    and listen with care.

    The fish come out to play
    when Ranger Rick’s gone.
    High noon on Wednesday
    He stretches and yawns.
    Then swings in his hammock
    instead of mowing the lawn.
    He saws away heavy logs
    until Fridays almost gone.

    The fishies start the party,
    playing poker with doubloons.
    And fishy wives sachet
    to a fiddlers jaunty tune.

    • Your poem is very Seuss-like
      It’s opener there in the wide open air
      Where Ranger Rick takes his nap
      Chasers roam without a care.

      Howdy S. Swenson! Nice poetry.

      • Howdy CindyM, Seuss is my favorite and I couldn’t help borrowing a bit from such a clever one! I watch amazed from the shallows as the real poets here weigh in and then laugh at my own silliness. Nice to connect with you.

  68. The clueless ones that have not seen
    Presume that matching place to poem
    Will bring out what warm waters mean
    And the other clues will then be known.

    Others know what must be there,
    But have not yet imagined why,
    Or parts have shown their secret where,
    While other parts have slipped on by.

    A few have made it past the blaze,
    But fewer yet will recognize
    How very little knowlege weighs,
    Sometimes you can believe your eyes.

    While it is true no chaser knows
    Until the chest is in his lap,
    I know of two that believe it shows
    The poem is a treasure map.

    It takes you in, and there you are,
    So why is it you cannot hear?
    I know from hear to there is far,
    But from there to hear, far is near.

    Once I lost my wedding band
    But knew exactly where it fell.
    For eleven years I sifted sand,
    Finding only rock, and wood, and shell.

    Two years later, my son, thirteen
    Came running in from the beach,
    Grinning, he handed me my ring
    What lessons can this story teach?

    Just because you know the answers
    Does not mean that they are right
    But it does improve your chances
    If the amount you’re off is only slight.

    Everybodys’ solves are great,
    And everybodys’ solves are bold,
    But only one solve carrys the weight
    Of 42 two pounds of yellow gold.

      • Michael D…….your poems are awesome. I hope you have the chan ce to write a poem about me finding the treasure!

    • Great story too, – is the ring part true? I lost my wedding ring in a lake, while swimming. Dove down, over and over, in the muddy depth feeling around braille-style. 20 minutes later and very lightheaded from repeated dives, I grinning surfaced, and couldn’t stop laughing for 15 minutes at my great fortune. 🙂 the sunbathers, I’m sure, thought I was high.

  69. Ok Michael when I find the chest please write a poem about it 🙂 🙂 🙂

  70. Hmm, confusing. I thought Dal was the official “Mr. Smartypants”

  71. Michael D is so busy composing,
    I think he forgot about proposing?
    Wearing a tutu and styling the curl
    Michael’s forgotten all about his girl.

  72. I believe too many people on this blog take poetry at face value….you don’t read a good poem….you read into it. It’s not so much what a poem says, but more about what it means…clueless ones is not meant to insult anyone….it simply means those that haven’t solved a clue in the poem yet…we are all at different stages of our ever evolving solves…The lesson is just a way of stating that even if you have the correct solve, you could still miss the chest. I’m not stating I have the correct solve (I’ve already done that once), just that there’s only one correct solve, and it takes you to the spot, but not necessarily to the open lid of the chest, you must still locate it when you arrive. What I believe the poem does, is give you a place to begin looking for the exact spot. And Spanish Breaks, I don’t really have a fiance’ anymore. She became my wife, 12 years ago, and left 2 years ago.

    • Michael D – You always have a way of stirring things up. I like that. I want to remind you what Forrest said. “The person who finds the chest will move with confidence.” I take that as meaning once you are there you’ve got it! If you listen to what he says in his interviews… you would probably be much closer than you are. Did you see my post in Odds n Ends on April 21,2014?


    • My sincere apology Michael D. May peace & contentment be your faithful friends until the right gal comes alongside you offering a slice of joy and companionship once again.

  73. I’m there I’m there oh where oh where I’m only 28 and I’m losing my hair trying to work out the last part of a journey so rare that Ive run out of ideas just stories to share of how when I got there the cupboard was bare but travel this journey I must do with care it will not be me it’s gotta be there cuz I’m on to a chest that can only be where the poem has taken one man and his mind I’ve run out of words but this poem still rhymes so forgive me for boasting but riddle me this what place can it take me that others could miss ?

    • Others visit the past and present
      trying to make sense of wisdom lent.
      History, geography, maps and poetry
      will only tell searchers part of his-story.
      Would a glimpse into our future bright
      reveal a blaze of brilliant light?

      Perhaps its not what you’re looking at
      but what you see that brings clarity.

      • Nor – It seems like we are going to get clarity very soon. Keep an eye on the news.

        • Pam, I saw your mention. Please keep those of us posted who don’t live in New Mexico. Truly, I no longer care about gold, and can rejoice with the worthy one who solves Mr. Fenn’s poem.

        • Poetry, poetry, poetry
          Not “this is what I know”-etry
          For the sake of all writers who mentally strive
          To keep the beauty of words alive
          Please enter your post “here” with words sublime
          And do your very best to rhyme


          Words tossed into lines
          Trampling over spring flowers
          Polluting rivers

          • Very clever in word & deed.
            Please don’t trample my flowers, they only look like weeds. Goodnight:-)

          • To Nor:

            Awww . . . the rich smell of a fertile field
            Such beauty did your poem yield
            It is the prose that tramples down
            the rhyming flowers in the ground

            That’s all. 🙂 Goodnight.

  74. This is our poetry page
    For some of us it’s all the rage
    But others they want to chit and chat
    Talk about this and talk about that
    I get so upset that I want to shout
    Hey people, please just cut it out!

    Go to a place like Odds and Ends
    Discussing theories with like-minded friends
    But for us the simple, please bear in mind
    That here we use another kind
    Of language . . . . .

    Thanks . . . . . . . . ahhhhhhh . . . . . . . . . . .

      • Jay mac how you make me smile with your sublime writing stlye
        Your witty words are such a treasure
        Ice cream couldn’t be much better

        • Oh, Cindy Mac, how you do fawn
          Your praises, they run on and on

          But what I write is mostly schmaltz
          Though feelings given are not false

          To place my words above ice cream?
          Perhaps, but only in a dream

          I hope one day we both shall meet
          to savor such a tasty treat

      • You’re a poet.
        You know it.

        That sums it up beautifully.

        (Said Jay-Mac dutifully)

        • Cindy Mac-
          Switch those two phrases.
          I meant that your Haiku sums it up beautifully.

      • Jewels and riches weigh me down
        So does someone with a frown
        The richest people that I’ve known
        Live in homes where love is grown

          • Juan Carlos 11-17
            I haven’t a clue what you mean.
            Though Tosh is funny; (he’s all the rage)
            This here is the POETRY PAGE.

            Puuuhhh-leeasse!! People !! Respect !!

          • Oh, yeah…poetry.
            I forget. I do that a lot.
            My apolo-GEEZ!
            Yeah, I know…I’m a major snot.

            I think I’ll “borrow” this next rhyme from Three Dog Night.

            “Joy To The World”

            Jeremiah was a bull frog
            Was a good friend of mine
            I never understood a single word he said
            But I helped him drink his wine
            And he always had some mighty fine wine

            Joy to the world
            All the boys and girls, now
            Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea
            Joy to you and me

          • Why is YouTube great, you’re asking?
            It’s just people on a screen,
            But to those hungry for attention
            It’s as good as Soylent Green.


            I hope that answers your question, Lee.
            Man, what’s for dinner?
            Wait! …a “model” just told me
            “Don’t eat and you’ll get thinner”.

            I wish she would have told me that sooner. 🙂

            Young people need more “models” like that to throw up to…I mean, look up to!

        • JC1117-
          I see that you forgot
          but don’t consider you a snot
          Your reaction was in line
          with all the exclamations mine

          Thanks for the poem and the song

  75. And now, I have my very own poem. Thanks Mac! Needed it tonight 😉
    Mr. Fenn, please see fit to allow mac’s poem to sit.

  76. Many in the chase have endured their share of pain and strife.
    In the days of old, such lessons were richly retold.
    The words hence are not mine, but the lesson is sublime.

    by Adelaide Proctor

    I shall know by the gleam and glitter
    Of the golden chain you wear,

    By your heart’s calm strength in loving,
    Of the fire you have had to bear.

    Beat on, true heart, forever;
    Shine bright, strong golden chain;

    And bless the cleansing fire
    and the furnace of living pain.

  77. Nice, Norwegian (Nor?)

    A surface knowledge
    Tempered by life’s fiery tests
    Branded on the soul

    • Here’s my brand… <3
      Figure it out?
      heart still learning which direction to go.

      Yes, please call me Nor 🙂

      • Less than 3, it appears to be
        Or a cone with two scoops
        That just went ooops !

        Confused I am, but that’s nothing new
        I’m off to bed
        Good night to you 🙂

  78. No, no, no.

    ONCE surface knowledge
    Tempted by life’s fiery tests
    Branded on the soul

    Sorry for additional posts.

  79. Wandering thoughts, as I travel afar,
    What would God be driving, if he had a car?

    Is it the truth if I speak it, and no one near,
    Or just true in parts, of what one hears?

    Gods little lanterns, twinkling in the sky,
    I wonder out loud, how alone am really I?

    Is it greed that I travel, looking for the chest,
    Or is there much more awaiting, while on the quest?

    In Santa Fe should I get a new book,
    Oh why did I turn the pages, with me hook?


  80. MY DREAM

    I can’t believe what I just saw
    I’d love to see it just once more

    I was all alone when suddenly
    There it was, just it and me

    I can’t believe what I just saw
    I’d love to see it just once more

    • oh Tom:
      There’s something just off,
      your words are not right.
      I really don’t care,
      what you saw last night.

      So for the sake of us all,
      please heed our wishes .
      For one last time Tom,
      just pull up your britches!!

  81. On a ledge I sit and wait another day
    people talking below, oh they’re 500feet away
    hoping to be found and my tarnish to shine
    no one to talk to 4 years left behind
    days turn into nights and weeks to years
    that I won’t be found is my biggest fears
    I see you coming please dont turn back
    just pick me up gently and place me in the pack
    my hope is that someone is a step away
    that will be my rainbow and my luckiest day
    but until then I set waiting for you
    till warm waters roll and brown turns blue
    so read your poem and do your math
    5000 feet up and you’ll find the path
    On a ledge I sit and wait another day

    • Wow, just wow
      old Choctaw.
      Bold new clues
      to leave us slack jaw.
      Too bad for me
      I no longer chase.
      But nice for another
      to finish this race.

      Worthy of gazing intently folks!

    • Laughter is good medicine, so the saying goes
      So I’m a lil’ bit better now, as only Heaven knows
      For THAT treat I do thank you much, Ms Svenska, yes I do
      And now Train I will listen more of when this post is through
      For though I grew up in the age of classic folk and rock
      I’ve ignored the modern stuff, of which I tend to mock
      But here my ears have been caressed by solid words and tune
      A “new” band now lies on my playlist for the month of June.

      Pure schmaltz !!

      • Laughter is good medicine in deed Mac. I enjoy a pretty wide range of music if it’s well done and clean – an old fashion gal. I thought the wordsmiths like mr. Fenn, yourself, and Pog would enjoy Train’s rhyming tomfoolery<<great word!

          • Compulsive disorder overpowering rhyme
            Just watched it for the ninth straight time
            My kids will be hearing so much they’ll yell “Stop!”
            As I beat on the air drums and pound till they pop!!

            What was the question? Oh, yes, Hispanic Foods. Did you notice a different audience each time kid held up a sign? David Hasselhoff still a bad actor. But FUNNY, FUNNY, video. LOVED the drummer and guitarist in their roles.

            Thanks again for a nice distraction .

  82. Mac, Mac please come back!
    Here’s another laughing attack.
    If it’s distraction you do seek
    You’ll enjoy this sneak peek.

    WARNING: Not All men return!


    • Very cute, very cute, thank you but you see
      That being in the doghouse is nothing new for me
      For as I tell my students almost weekly at my work
      That at any given time any guy can be a jerk

      But how about that Train . . .

      She got hit by a semi
      Crushed in an earthquake
      Mistakenly tossed in and eaten at a clambake

      Help me, help me I’m no good at lies . . . .

      • Or for us searchers . . . .

        She got mauled by a grizzly
        Submerged in a kayak
        Mugged by a ranger with a 42 pound backpack

        Help me; help me, I’m no good at lies . . .

        (Sorry kids, it’s from a song)

    • For all the dual baggers
      The secret’s very clear
      Be sure you always offer
      To clean carpets for a year.

      Problem solved 🙂

  83. The answer my friend:-) is blowin in the wind

    “Blowin’ In The Wind”

    How many roads must a man walk down
    Before you call him a man?
    How many seas must a white dove sail
    Before she sleeps in the sand?
    Yes, how many times must the cannon balls fly
    Before they’re forever banned?
    The answer my friend is blowin’ in the wind
    The answer is blowin’ in the wind.

    Yes, how many years can a mountain exist
    Before it’s washed to the sea?
    Yes, how many years can some people exist
    Before they’re allowed to be free?
    Yes, how many times can a man turn his head
    Pretending he just doesn’t see?
    The answer my friend is blowin’ in the wind
    The answer is blowin’ in the wind.

    Yes, how many times must a man look up
    Before he can really see the sky?
    Yes, how many ears must one man have
    Before he can hear people cry?
    Yes, how many deaths will it take till he knows
    That too many people have died?
    The answer my friend is blowin’ in the wind
    The answer is blowin’ in the wind.

  84. You have brains in your head.
    You have clues on top of clues.
    You can can solve that darn poem
    any way you choose!

    But solve it True you must do,
    and perhaps quite quickly too.
    According to Michael D – very soon
    Slurbs quietly sings the same tune.

    My eyes are weary of earth’s Google,
    My number of solves has never been frugal.
    Stop this nonsense and sound the bugel!
    Just pass the gold and I’ll rule Fenn’s ducal.

    • Ducal???
      Loved your poem except the last word
      The strangest kind that I ever did heard

      • Glad to see you back Mac. Always fun to try matching wits with you, although none but Forrest & Pirate do it justice.

        ducal = small kingdom (ref. to treasure)
        Sad thing is I didn’t need to look that one up. I read a lot of history. Family asks which century I’m living in week to week. This week a Norwegian Nobel winner from 1920s. Great read. I’m escaping life into 14th Century and ChaseWorld.

      • Glad you’re back Mac. Like your brand of humor and wit. ducal = small kingdom (ref. to treasure) I read too much history.

        • Thanks, Swan. Now I larned somthin !!

          I’m a bit off the wall from my car’s leaking gas
          But my wife more succinctly says “pain in the . . . ”

          Honey, aren’t those called hemorrhoids ??

          I tick off as many as I tickle. Fact of life!!

          • @MacSweeney

            Get yourself some fresh air,
            before you lose your mind and hair.
            Keep up the gasoline gig,
            You’ll need PreparationH.
            and a wig.

  85. He that findeth the golden hoard
    will nary be lonely and seldom bored.
    For the question of who hath free hold
    will yield arguments heated and bold.

    The IRS weigheth in with
    terms of financial obligation.
    The BLM a formal inquiry
    intoeth the treasure’s location.

    Rights, possession and obligation
    will taxeth your mind vexing away.
    Perhaps the only ensuing resolution
    in common language would be to say,
    shut your mouth and quietly walk away.

  86. Ode to the Puppeteer

    A symphony of friends
    and ideas sing
    at the gifted touch
    of the collector of string.

    By wisdom and grace
    silent toys to life he brings.
    His gentle tug and twist
    orchestrate magical things.

    For who would have dreamt
    of riding starlit moonbeams?
    Or awakening to the voice
    of laughter from a stream?

    To that sweet melody
    on wings I’ll fly.
    For now it’s my time
    to say goodbye.

  87. Here I sit, in this canyon down,
    Far from my beach, with sand all around.
    So quiet at night, the stars seem sharper,
    I do feel at home, I’m in my own harbor.

    I’m having more fun, than should be allowed,
    A pirate way of life, avoiding the crowd.
    Yet no one has answered, as I stare at a star,
    What would God be driving, if He had a car?

    • Pirate of Gold

      God, of course makes the clouds His chariot; He walks upon the wings of the wind. Psalm 104:3

      When He’s not too busy His phone number is
      Jer 33:3 but you may have to be patient.

      (btw: I will check in only on Poetry page unless Bits & Pieces is a better space for friendships to take place)

      • Nor,

        Thanks for the answer,there in the Bible,
        I’m seeking something different, not found at a revival.
        I pose a question, with no answer thus far,
        What would God drive, IF He had a car?

        • What would GOD drive if he had a car?
          Would he pull up in a Bentley to his favorite bar?
          Perhaps a Range Rover, or a Coup de Ville,
          Or the keys to a Mercedes are on his window sill.
          It could be he likes the Volkswagon Beetle
          Or rides a Harley like Evil Kineival.
          But my guess is since God is no weenie,
          He pulls to the curb in a red Lamborghini!

          • Oh Michael D, now you’ve made me think!
            Would He do like you, and drive a Yugo that’s pink?

        • Pirate of Gold your riddles are great, but apparently my brain doesn’t think like you mate.

          At the edge of your plank
          I’m waltzing today,
          Toes to the edge
          carelessly dancing away.

          If my 2nd answer
          is unequivicably wrong,
          will your mates toss me over
          to the fish with those fins?
          So long!

          Here comes my disclaimer
          from a Viking to a Rogue:
          If I’m wrong, don’t you dare
          Throw me overboard!!!

          If God drives a car
          It’s quick as a wink.
          It flies through time
          In the space of a blink.

          Of model and make
          I haven’t a clue.
          But there’s always room
          For me and you.

          (I know it’s a lark, please don’t keep me long in the dark).

  88. Oops. POG I meant I’ll check in at *Odds & Ends* (not bits&pieces) I was worried about being chopped by your mates to bits and pieces for my comments.

  89. But in my PINK Yugo I don’t get arrested,
    And at this game you’ve already been bested,
    So stop trying so hard to succeed,
    Look at your panties I think you just peed!
    Read between the lines pirate of gold,
    If you don’t get the message you’re just too dam old!
    Your up ship creek without a paddle,
    Cuz there’s no way in He ll your gonna win this battle!

    • Ha! This pirateofgold, takes your smack with a sigh,
      Who are you kidding? You must be high.
      Clever you think, in your own little mind, Be careful laddy, don’t let your mouth overload your behind.
      For I am not too far from where you soon will be, when you see this Jolly Roger tis you who will pee!
      So keep your mind focused on your little hunt, anything else you say say would be redundant

  90. Well now pirate, seems I’ve struck a nerve!
    Talkin’ about my behind? You must be a perve!
    My mind may be little, but you’re a peewee,
    I can handle myself well if that’s what need be.
    If you can’t take it, then don’t talk smack!
    If you’re threatening me, better watch your back!
    I’ll send you back to Tennessee
    with egg on your face for all to see!
    You can tell them a dude in a tutu,
    handed it to you with some Ballet Voodoo!!

    By the way pirate…let me know if we are crossing over some invisible battle line you have drawn in the sand, because a war of words is all I have planned…

    • I hope you understand, tis all in fun,
      You will be the one to tuck tail and run.
      I mean you no harm in my little rhyme,
      But soon you will find, its quittin time.
      My years not as old as you think they be,
      Could put you on the ground, before you say three.
      For its from the deep South I truly hail,
      The girls from down there, could pin your tail.
      So don’t cry for your sister to come help you out,
      Go dry your tears, I’m ready for another bout!!
      (Insert Michael D’s smiley face here )

      • Vikings understand fun alright.
        So button down the hatch.
        Trim the sails for the night.
        Grab a grog, pull up a chair.
        Comb that hair, you look a sight.
        We’ve planned another diversion tonight


        • And I didn’t even watch this till after my poem below! Perfect fit, Svenska! Thanks for that great rendition of Mike D. And POG

        • I must confess.
          That was X!-cellent, Svenska!
          Action packed with treasure lootin’.
          And cooperation saved them all
          From a high-speed chase
          And all that shootin’. 🙂


          If I could just keep
          This hook-for-a-hand
          Away from my eyes
          When birds are poopin’.

          • Funny JC!
            Thanks, You woke me up from a horrid nightmare! wiping my eyes – dreaming those birds hit me too;-)
            (Sorry, I don’t rhyme during beauty rest time) zz zzz

  91. So glad that I sat in my class all the day
    For nery a word would I have to say
    In this battle of wits as the verbiage does fly
    So deft are the shots that I won’t even try

    Now I’ve already ticked off our dear Michael D.
    So it’s highly unlikely that he’ll talk to me
    Even though I was joking, all I said was in jest
    The list that he’s put me on’s sure not his best

    Now he’s fully engaged with the swift POG
    As Ms Nor and Ms Svenska chime in with their glee
    So I’ll run up my main sail as I flee from this place
    For the last thing I want is an egg full of face

    And I’ll wait for a fortnight till the waters have settled
    When your energy’s drained from the comment you’ve nettled
    The other dear fellow with, in search of the chest
    I will wish you both well and to you give my best

    So head out brave men in your ship and your car
    May your journeys be safe and your travels be far
    And your gaze fully focused as you both hope to find
    That one singular thing that will bring peace of mind

    A true honor and pleasure it’s certainly been
    To hang around here with such fine breed of men
    But alas I must leave on a negative note
    For there’ll be no chest found in your car or your boat.

    Oh, yeah!! :).. Couldn’t resist!

    • >}|}*> Jump in and swim with the SHARKS!
      Nor was thrown over earlier today. Haven’t seen her since.

      • Afraid should I be of the sharks underneath?
        I welcome the gumming
        This one’s got no teeth. 😉

        • Speaking of sharks, Mac,

          Though the eleventh cartoon (below) is quite relevant,
          I prefer the seventh just for helluvit.
          And if you’re Jonesing to voice that something’s amiss.
          You’ll have to stand in the line behind Chris.
          But don’t be scared or step out for a breather.
          He’s from Indiana…and doesn’t bite, either.


    • Well, here is another, joining the fray,
      I’ll give you one shot, you can have your say.
      Be forwarned, me ship be sailin steady,
      Crew standin fast, cannons at the ready.
      The treasure be mine to load on me ship,
      Go back to your class, and do a flip

      • LOL POG
        But treasure on your ship
        Will we see?

        Not if you’re roamin’ in why-omen
        Is that an Albatross I see crossing your bow??

          • Oooooh, I’m trembling as the typewriter from Tennessee taps out his best.

          • I’m here on my phone, don’t you know. I’m leaving booty for you in Colorado

        • No quarrels with thee, yet you fired first,
          I’m Pirate to me bones, vengeance I thirst.
          If you think you can last, give it a try,
          No chest in Colorado, don’t wanna make you cry.
          So here’s your chance to shoot my sail,
          My advice to you, better run and tuck tail!

          • A masterpiece of feudal violence mates!
            Such colorful banter spoken with berate.

            I’m engrossed in a decade spanning plot…
            Oo la la its romance hot
            curled up in my favorite reading spot.
            I’m falling for Erlund Nikulaussen a Viking hot!
            (Actually Nobel winner)

            Escaping to another time and place tonight. Wish you all sweet dreams. Goodnight:)

          • Nor,
            Enjoy your book, don’t let your thoughts run astray,
            You’ll wake up in a sweat, rolling in the hay.

            Just remember it’s fiction, and the Viking may be hot.
            You’ll be hugging on your pillow, but kiss you back it will not!

  92. OK, I’m outta here!!
    When we meet, I’ll buy you a beer.
    It’s really helped my concentration
    To have such mental stimulation.

    God speed!
    God bless!
    Oh, one more thing
    I’ll take a guess

    It says in Acts they were in one accord
    So maybe God would drive a Honda and not a Ford.

    (Not to be irreverent. AND . . . I love my ’88 F150, so relax Ford owners)

    Did you hear about the agnostic who had dyslexia? Yeah, he questioned the existence of dog. (An oldie, I know!) AND . . . yes, I have ADD!

    Cheers! MacSweeney out till July.

  93. Miss you already MacSweeny!
    Safe travels and God Speed.
    Return with tales to tickle our fancy.
    Your Viking friends…
    Nor & Svenska, of course;-)

    • They figured quickly that he lied
      When once too often “Wolf!” he cried
      It fit not in their comprehension
      He was seeking their attention

      Now comes he back with tucked in tail
      His journey started? Epic fail !
      Had still he three days of schooling
      Now makes two, he is not fooling.

      Deep down inside so wanted he
      To venture like the big boys be
      That empty boastings he did spurt
      And hopes he now, no feelings hurt

      But grasp will he your salutation
      And hold on firm with sheer elation
      When through the back door he will slip
      Unseen beginning of his trip

      His foot he’ll slide into his truck
      When hits him solid, his bad luck
      And mutter will he, Sven and Nor
      “Forgot my keys and locked the door!”

      Two dozen fishes
      For your good wishes!
      (Norwegian sardines of course!). 😉

    • Hello VGBOSS 🙂 I don’t often see you on the Poetry page, so Welcome!

      Looks like a great challenge. May I have a day to think it over? I have many appointments today, which interrupt creativity…it’s also hard to compose on an iphone.

  94. Welcome VGBoss! Glad you stopped by. I would love to take up your fun challenge. Please give me a day as I’m at appointments today and need a cup of creativity to get started.

  95. Thank you MacSweeney for poignantly
    capturing the heart of true treasure.
    Your words speak to the search of my soul
    with sentiments that help make one whole.

    ***Somethings bear repeating***

    “And might it come that I may measure
    Something sweeter than the treasure

    Was that not the author’s goal
    That in our search we be made whole

    And find again the joys in life
    that oft are robbed by stress and strife.”

    • Nor, Norwegian, Nor Gal, Swan, etc. 🙂

      No credit for that may I take
      For me myself I did not make
      Nor place me in this land and time
      Nor choose to cause my mind to rhyme

      And oft I wonder at the source
      Whom you and I both know of course
      Why He should choose to call me friend
      And talents from Him He would lend

      But none too humble I admit
      Those lines did make me smile a bit
      So thank you much for the words you sent
      And thanks to Him for the gifts He lent

      • I’m humbled to tears tonight and beyond grateful He saw fit for me to count you as friend, that I should understand His grace through your gifts and kindness. (crying)

      • It’s the warm heart of a treasured friend that I truly seek. Here, now and for all eternity. Solving the riddle is bittersweet, dreams of treasure vague and empty.
        If there is a higher purpose, to His glory be.
        I hope that may soon be revealed to me.

  96. I’m not poetically endowed……..Today I was listening to some oldies in my truck and got inspired (I plagiarized it) by a song by Credence Clearwater Revival.

    Just about a year ago, I set out on the road
    Seekin’ my fame and fortune, lookin’ for a chest of gold
    Things got bad, and then got worse, I guess you know the tune
    Oh! Lord, Stuck in Yellowstone again

    Rode in on a Greyhound, I’ll be walkin’ out if I go
    I was just passin’ through, must be seven months ago
    Ran out of time and money, looks like I took my friends
    Oh! Lord, I’m stuck in Yellowstone again

    The man named Forrest Fenn said I was on my way
    Somewhere I lost connections, ran out of places to search
    I came into town, a one night search, looks like my plans fell through
    Oh! Lord, Stuck in Yellowstone again

    If I only had a dollar, for ev’ry search I’ve done
    And ev’ry time I’ve had to search while people sat home warm
    You know, I’d catch the next train back to where I live
    Oh! Lord, I’m stuck in Yellowstone again


      • Grew up not too many miles from Lodi CA when they wrote this song! IT FITS !!

        VERY Nice rendition, Goofy !! (May I call you Goofy?)

        • Absolutely Mac, you can call me Goofy; some call me Goof, some GOG, I’ve become very attached to my new name.

          You should here what Dal calls me when the server hangs. 😯

        • @MacSweeney
          Hey Mac, my friend Nor says to tell you hello. We’re close friends. She thought you were gone until July and “borrowed” some of your best work. Looks like you were credited. She’s way too serious. I would have put my own name to your sage words! Haha!!

  97. 🙂


    #1…So hear Me all and listen good,
    …….Look quickly down,
    …….Not far,
    …….But tarry scant with marvel gaze,
    #5…So why is it that I must go
    …….And with My treasures bold,
    …….And leave My trove for All to seek??
    …….And hint of riches new and old.
    …….If You’ve been wise and found the blaze,
    #10..I can keep My secret where,
    …….The answers I already know,
    …….As I have gone alone in there
    …….If You are brave and in the wood
    …….There’ll be no paddle up Your creek.
    #15.From there it’s no place for the meek,
    …….Just heavy loads and water high.
    …….Begin it where warm waters halt
    …….Put in below the home of Brown.
    …….I’ve done it tired,
    #20.but too far to walk.
    …….And take it in the canyon down,
    …….and now I’m weak.
    …….The end is ever drawing nigh;
    …….Your effort will be worth the cold.
    #25.Just take the chest and go in peace.
    ….(Just take the chest and leave my bones alone.)
    ….(Just take the chest and leave alone my bones.)
    …….I give You title to the gold.
    …….Your quest to cease,

    🙂 Match, Strike, Spark, Blaze, Fire, Light
    🙂 The Golf Chess & Cheese Society

    • Hard to digest all those grapes vgboss. m rating for POG and Michael D types there for sure. Kind of an ol fashioned loyal gal who just likes to flirt myself; wouldn’t like to be likened to some of those sour grapes described but read between the grapes to understand and gratefultofeelsame. I think I’ll try the Wood poem instead. 🙂

  98. It’s questions I pose to me and you today,
    Not the usual verse and rhyme of poetry.

    Human life is one big treasure hunt.
    What do you seek?
    We all have things that are valuable to us…
    acceptance, possessions, achievement, companionship,
    peace, independence, answers, health, glory.
    What do you seek?
    Our behavior always expresses the motives of our heart.
    What rules your heart?
    Given a golden hoard of treasure will you remain true?
    Can you truly earn treasure, or is it a gift of grace?

  99. Dal, Dal, the treasure has been found!
    I solved the poem, and it’s no where around!
    Went out to where, warm waters halt,
    Followed it down, to the exact hiding spot.
    I’ve looked and looked, it’s not where it should be,
    Someone else found the treasure, it wasn’t me.
    I will keep you informed, on all I know,
    Keep your eyes on tv, it’s a news breaking show.
    I’d take a picture of the area I searched,
    But my phones in a creek, down by a river birch.
    I would have told you sooner, oh how I tried,
    Didn’t have a signal, my phone got fried.
    Can’t recall if I told you, my minds in a fog,
    All my homework in school, was ate by my dog..


    • @POG if that river birch has a white blaze which ends in the creek. I’ll lend you my photo of said tree…pick up my son’s phone he dropped in the drink.

      • hard to understand what you’re sayin.
        Bad reception out here, verizon I won’t be payin’

        • Fo sho, yo!
          Rarin’ to go
          Out da do!
          Ready fo mo.
          Grab da fishin’ po.
          Let’s start da sho!

        • Why the heck in Colorado would you be?!?
          When you’ve said all along, “Wyoming is for me!!! ”
          Did you come to your senses as you sailed across the nation?
          I’m beginning to think you have no imagination!!

  100. Could it be because of Mike D that your fearing now you’re wrong
    Cause there sure seems to be a different tune to your song
    Or is this just a warm up as your check behind each tree?
    Well, that really doesn’t matter cause that ain’t where’s gonna be

    But have fun. At least you’ll have chased off all the rattlers before I get there. 🙂


    Dad’s are a son’s first hero and a daughter’s first love.

  102. Legend of the Pink Tutu Treasure

    I went to Sleep upon solid rock,
    Which is why I went nigh
    Toward my solid sand.
    There is no milk in the Basin sought,
    But when cups runneth over it’s where warm waters land.
    Me, Myself and I are One,
    All together there makes three.
    Solving it is half the fun,
    Compared to his, mine’s easy.
    If you go too far, feel the glow of a Blaze;
    Half a life gone yet a half-life remains.
    At the start of eleven miles of water runway,
    Turn around and go back the way you came.
    Go nigh up the creek without a name
    Until you come across the giant boulders.
    You’re now getting closer to the end game,
    But you must get by them as I did, go over.
    When you reach the end there’s no need to climb,
    Go behind Imagination Falls you see.
    And take a seat to cross the line,
    Now you’re where my treasure be.

    Good luck boys and girls! Only the people on this blog can collect the missing prize…just tell me the information on the bill inside my chest to receive the bonus prize!!

    • @Michael D. Is your treasure also secreted away in the same 4 state Rocky Mountain area as Fenn’s treasure? Or is this a broader search area?

        • Poetry page… oh no.. I’ll give it a try.

          I read your poem months ago,
          and the solution I did easily know.

          But, alas, my work kept me busy,
          and skimming this blog, just plain dizzy.

          Finally a day off for treasure hunting,
          but cold and snowy weather were fronting.

          So instead of seeking a chest of gold,
          I went after yours to avoid the cold.

          It was right where I expected it to be,
          with teacup, silver, clock and key.

          And from the Bahamas a doller just for kicks,
          with the number W 1942 66!

          So using Forrest’s poem for clues,
          I hid a new trove for all you buckaroos.

          I took some of Michael D’s stash,
          adding some things and some cash.

          It’s in the same state but too far to walk,
          just get a half way ticket to tomahawk.

          Happy Holidays everybody!

          • Wow!! You found it! I am impressed! Pretty good spot though, don’t you think? Give me your email so we can talk about the missing prize…..

  103. ONE’ M WEAK

    When I listed ten only nine were there.
    The sixth contains the secret where.
    But number five holds the key,
    In plain English for all to see.

    The first is proof of what you find
    In the fifth one, which I left behind.
    Together, one, five, and six
    let you know where it exists.

    The blaze is him; I, my, and me,
    And all are One, that is the key.
    list ten ones, and one remains
    Two eyes in six but only one obstains.

    The rest you hear spells it out,
    And that’s what two through four’s about.
    Four first tells of One content wrote
    above it on the rhyming note.

    But four speaks of him the second time through,
    when beginning it where he tells you to.
    So now you have my solve to see
    Just not quite, but almost free.

    Enjoy people!

    • Michael D, Thank you for the time and thought you put into this poem. Your poem is really fun!!! I have already spent hours and hours reading it and trying to figure it out (in relation to ff’s poem). I love numbers – so I LOVE your poem. I still can’t understand your poem. I believe I understand “One”, but I can’t make it work into anything (when I transfer it to ff’s poem). Am I correct in thinking that: the “nine” in the first line, is counting something different than, the “sixth” in the second line of your poem? (I believe I know what the “nine” and “sixth” are counting, but I’m stuck.) If you want to give me help, here’s my e-mail: DK2L@comcast.net.

    • Nor,

      I hope this doesn’t mean you are leaving. I enjoy reading your posts. I am from Billings. I do the Long Range Locating some refer to as dowsing. Would love to bring out my equipment and do a search. No guarantees, but maybe we find something else. If you are interested I think I posted my email on the Looking in MT and WY page. Or let me know and I will send it to you. Seems I might be in between jobs at the moment.

  104. @CindyM
    😉 thank you for well wishes my friend. A few days of rest and I’ll be on the mend. Gives me time to read..pray..and think about things other than solving the poem. In all honesty getting worn out of clues, solves, and figuring out how truth is averaged out on the blog. Pretty simple old fashioned girl here. Time to rest mind and body.

  105. The heavy hitters weighed in tonight with advanced degrees and brilliant insight. There is no question that my brain is light. All I have to offer you is…sleep tight.


    Well that was a close call,
    We almost lost Dal!

    Now that Dal is back,
    I think I’ll take a nap.

    But wait, I should be more worried,
    What if he has warm waters halt figured?

    I’d welcome Dal to find the box,
    Even if he’s wrong about Tewa.

    So hear me all and listen good,
    It’s the people that make up the chase, but not the misunderstood.

      • Is Forrest in disguise?
        Is he really just one of the guys…
        Perhaps he’s Pirate, Cloud or GermanGuy,
        or a shadow of Mapsmith’s improvise,
        maybe he’s Michael D’s most intimate allie?

  107. Wouldn’t a cool movie be about this Chase and this blog, and finding out in the end it’s just you and one other person on the blog and you are both playing all these different avatars but are not aware the other is doing the same thing!!?? Okay, no more mead…

  108. The name of that movie is…
    “CHASING MY TAIL” and yes, I’ve been cast as both starring and supporting fool. Join me and we can run in circles together!

    • To quote the poet: (with a few changes)

      For Michael D. :

      Gather ’round people
      Wherever you roam
      And admit that the runoffs
      Around you have grown

      And accept it that soon
      You’ll be drenched to the bone
      If your life to you
      Is worth savin’

      Then you better start swimmin’
      Or you’ll sink like a stone
      For the tides they are a-changin’

      For Dal: (rhymes with male)

      Come writers and critics
      Who prophesize with your pen
      Keep your eyes on the blaze
      The chance won’t come again

      Don’t look down too soon
      For the wheel’s still in spin
      And there’s no tellin’ where
      That it’s namin’

      For the loser now
      Will be later to win
      For the times they, they are a-changin’

      For Ken: . . . ho hum . . .

      Come senators, Congressmen
      Please heed the call
      Don’t tax all our treasures
      Don’t block up the haul

      For he that gets voted out
      Will be he who has stalled
      There’s a battle around us
      It’s ragin’

      It’ll soon shake up the tax codes
      And rattle your walls
      For the times they are a-changin’

      For Obsessive Searchers’ parents:

      Come mothers and fathers
      Throughout the land
      Don’t criticize
      What you can’t understand

      Your sons and your daughters
      Are beyond your command
      Your old road is
      Rapidly agin’

      Please get out of the new one
      If you can’t lend a hand
      For your times they are a-changin’

      For all searchers who think they’ve got it solved:

      The line it is drawn
      And the curse it is cast
      The slow one now
      Will later be fast

      As the present now
      Will later be past
      The order is
      Rapidly fadin’

      And the first one now
      Will later be last
      For the times they are a-changin’

      (Robert Allen Zimmerman)

  109. When should being kind or generous ever cause strife?
    When the Chase encourages dicing clues with a sharp knife.
    Why do people perplex with accusations rife? Perhaps from frustration or desperation in life?

  110. Based upon the wisdom and words of Marvin Fenn:

    Does anyone but God cry
    When a swan dies?
    Does she peacefully float
    to the great by and by?
    Or does fancy fly on wings
    Back to primeval things?
    Water fowl tis but dinner
    to a lone wolf on the prowl.
    The wolf throws the blow,
    Sighted in and let it go.
    The swan’s last flight,
    Silent as a starry night.
    The stillness of the swan
    Reveals she is gone.
    Were the wolf’s story told,
    What tales would it unfold?
    Ages will have worn away,
    Hunters have gone their way.
    Treasures settle in the dust,
    The swan’s soul is in God’s trust.

  111. I took waters high to mean it was “time to go, pink.”
    Until He said spring was a time to relax and think.
    Now maybe winter is the time to be bold,
    Since no other time is so worth the cold.
    A structure has pieces, and parts go together,
    A hole is a void, and is still in the weather.
    So how would one find a hole under snow?
    Perhaps warm waters melt it from down below.
    This would a patch of Brown earth expose,
    Underneath a blaze of white, when it snows.
    Perhaps only then can we find the right wood,
    Or know that our too far to walk is too good.
    How high is the water? That we must know…
    And up which creek do we not row?
    Is the right spot marked with a sign or a glyph?
    Must we look quickly down from the edge of a cliff?
    More work must be done, this solve is a chore!
    But I believe it involves some Uranium ore…
    And Forrest B. Fenn is in there someplace,
    Six has been solved or there’s egg on my face!
    But how many clues do reside there?
    Is that all I need to find out my where?
    No, there must be more to it than that…
    I give up Forrest, where’s the treasure chest at?

    Michael D

  112. I recently sent this poem to Mr. Fenn, hand written, snail mail, because he said it was more personal that way. It is written in my high school poetry book, and at the time, had no author’ signature. I never claimed it as my own, simply that I wrote a poem down for him. Investigation uncovered the author, Author Wallace Peach. How surprised would he be, to know how much it fit our quest for treasure?! I hope you enjoy it!


    Light of foot and gay of heart,
    He took the rainbow road
    With empty pack while others bore
    Ambition’s heavy load.

    He sought like them the pot of gold,
    But ever on his way
    He passed to hear the thrushes song
    A requiem for the day.

    He lingered where hill vistas spread
    New beauty to his sight;
    He saw the great hills wear at dawn
    Creation’s holy light.

    The Autumn’s loveliness was his,
    The Spring’s ecstatic word;
    The lyric phrase of bird and bees
    His listening spirit heard.

    He came belated to the place
    Where down the hills descend
    The eager feet that seek the gold
    Hung at the rainbow’s end.

    They found no shining pot of gold
    Who took the trail with him
    And never knew his pack of dreams
    Was laden to the brim!

    Good luck, all! ¥Peace¥ Donna

  113. Another, this one IS mine…


    I decided to take the high road,
    One seldom taken naught,
    All because of a spade foot toad,
    For a treasure that I sought.

    It lead to waters warm welcome arms,
    And chilling as they fell,
    The rocky canyon’s darkened karns,
    Ended in a lavender dell.

    The rainbow’s mist welcomed me,
    My brave heart led the way.
    But the gold I did fail to see,
    Left me breathless through the day.

    I lay down on Mother’s breast,
    And soaked in her love.
    Staring at the mountain crest,
    I spied a lonely dove.

    It’s mate was gone but it still flew,
    And landed in the sheaths of rye,
    I raised my head and held it ascew,
    As I listened to it’s mournful cry.

    Another dove appeared just then,
    And together they did fly.
    It seems the gold was not the “when”,
    But the chase and just the try.

    ¥Peace¥ Donna

  114. Yo Ho, Pirate of Gold
    Oh where can you be?
    your current whereabouts
    is steeped in mystery.

    Did you locate the blaze
    Is your brain in a haze?
    Please knock off the grog,
    check in on Dal’s Blaaarg.

    Are you sailing the seas
    in a warm sunny breeze?
    giving your gal a squeeze
    looking for lute to seize?

    Yo Ho, Pirate of Gold
    Oh where can you be?
    Your land locked mates
    beg you shamelessly
    toss a note in a bottle please!

    (ps – a pile of brown threats has piled up to Michael D’s knees.
    Without you here to sling it at, and its making me sneeze)

  115. There is snow on the mountain
    And in the valley’s mist below,
    We all seek life’s fountain,
    In hope of riches glow.

    I say to you, what treasure do you seek?
    Life’s passage if wrought with doubt.
    Which makes your knees grow weak?
    Sailing in or sailing out?

    Time spans from one to the other
    Of that we can pretend.
    But from there we go no further.
    How do you see the end?

    Sure as stones awash in the stream
    Life gives us fleeting moments, my brother,
    Allowing us all to dream.
    I see one way, you see another.

    Who says I’m right?
    Who says your wrong?
    It’s not worth the fight.
    I say , we all belong!

    If you are on the mountains peak
    Or on the hardest pew,
    That higher power of which we speak,
    Will someday call to you.

    Of this you will be unquestioned,
    There is no other way.
    Fulfill your dreams for which you are destined.
    Twill be no ‘nother day!


    • BW, you raise the most important question in life IMO.

      “What treasure do you seek?”

      This blog is an appropriate place to ask it, and at the same time very few wish to think deeper than earthly gold.

      I may be one of a few to frequent the poetry page. So, I’ll answer your question. I seek eternal life and the peace which I believe comes to those who believe.

      Thanks for your poem.

      • And he answered and said unto them, “I tell you that, if these should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out.”

  116. Natures golden ones dance in a happy breeze…

    I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud by William Wordsworth

    I wandered lonely as a cloud
    That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
    When all at once I saw a crowd,
    A host, of golden daffodils;
    Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
    Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

    Continuous as the stars that shine
    And twinkle on the milky way,
    They stretched in never-ending line
    Along the margin of a bay:
    Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
    Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

    The waves beside them danced, but they
    Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
    A poet could not be but gay,
    In such a jocund company!
    I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
    What wealth the show to me had brought:

    For oft, when on my couch I lie
    In vacant or in pensive mood,
    They flash upon that inward eye
    Which is the bliss of solitude;
    And then my heart with pleasure fills,
    And dances with the daffodils.

  117. To have been blessed with a gift of word usage, such as he, would be immeasurable. He should have written one called “The Lonely Daffodil.”

    • His words are worth every heart they are imprinted on. He’s a favorite of mine BW. I’ve never seen just one daffodil, friends always bloom nearby to help one another dance joyfully:-)

      • Amen Swan!

        Daffodils – a poem by by William Wordsworth

        I wandered lonely as a cloud
        That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
        When all at once I saw a crowd,
        A host, of golden daffodils;
        Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
        Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

        Continuous as the stars that shine
        And twinkle on the milky way,
        They stretched in never-ending line
        Along the margin of a bay:
        Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
        Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

        The waves beside them danced, but they
        Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
        A poet could not be but gay,
        In such a jocund company!
        I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
        What wealth the show to me had brought:

        For oft, when on my couch I lie
        In vacant or in pensive mood,
        They flash upon that inward eye
        Which is the bliss of solitude;
        And then my heart with pleasure fills,
        And dances with the daffodils.

      • I just wanted to apologize to you Swan because I didn’t intend to duplicate the poem you posted. I’d awoken in the middle of the night and started at the bottom of the posts and was working my way up and I failed to realize that you’d already posted it.

        I didn’t want you to think I did that on purpose, so please forgive me for my inattentiveness the other evening. I really enjoy reading what you have to say. Take Care.

        • There was a time when hilltop, cliff and stream,
          The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparell’d in celestial light,
          Ah, the glory and the freshness of a childhood dream.

  118. Negative Ode to Not Finding the Treasure

    Not gonna’ brown nose,
    Not gonna’ kiss it,
    Not gonna’ whine,
    Not gonna’ cry,
    Just gonna’ lay right down and die!

    • BW

      Ode to a Solvaholic

      It’s nice that you joined me among the living dead.
      We’re clothed in dignity, no brown nosers or whiners allowed to be fed.
      Friends warned me solving clues had become an obsession.
      Let’s just say, the books are no longer in my possession.
      For two days I grieved and felt forlorn.
      But a joyful person arose on the third morn.
      To Forrest Fenn I emailed my solve.
      Closure comes when it’s read on Dal’s blog.
      From this point forward I can play a new part,
      occasionally helping others with a smiling heart.
      Great freedom comes when you don’t give a rip about finding treasure or planning the next trip!
      I never chased the gold or wealth it would bring,
      But surely would’ve loved wearing that emerald ring! 🙂

  119. It’s thanks I give to my VERY good guy.
    Not all spouses allow you to roam and fly.
    A new trip I’m planning to my favorite spot.
    This time I hope to find Fenn’s golden lot.
    No negotiating or deals had to be struck
    Simply said go all-in, and wished me luck.

  120. Annabel Lee


    It was many and many a year ago,
    In a kingdom by the sea,
    That a maiden there lived whom you may know
    By the name of Annabel Lee;
    And this maiden she lived with no other thought
    Than to love and be loved by me.

    I was a child and she was a child,
    In this kingdom by the sea,
    But we loved with a love that was more than love—
    I and my Annabel Lee—
    With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
    Coveted her and me.

    And this was the reason that, long ago,
    In this kingdom by the sea,
    A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
    My beautiful Annabel Lee;
    So that her highborn kinsmen came
    And bore her away from me,
    To shut her up in a sepulchre
    In this kingdom by the sea.

    The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
    Went envying her and me—
    Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
    In this kingdom by the sea)
    That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
    Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

    But our love it was stronger by far than the love
    Of those who were older than we—
    Of many far wiser than we—
    And neither the angels in Heaven above
    Nor the demons down under the sea
    Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

    For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
    And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
    And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
    Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
    In her sepulchre there by the sea—
    In her tomb by the sounding sea.

  121. Mending Fences
    (anon. authors)

    We’ve shared the trail,
    kicked up some dust,
    An’ stood a storm or two.
    We’ve rode the plains,
    the wide frontier,
    The easy trails were few.
    You’ve listened like
    a wizened sage
    To ever thing I’ve said,
    As a best friend, supported me,
    No matter where it led.
    I wished I coulda carried you,
    The times you were in pain;
    Or been a sheltered harbor
    To turn the blowin’ rain.
    I’ve come up shy
    to meet your needs,
    Compadre, my ol’ friend.
    But there’s been times,
    that I believed
    You had angel wings.
    You were sent to care for me
    Like no one had before.
    With dignity and honor
    I could’ve loved you more.
    I was wrong, and it harmed you,
    forgive me, please say you do.
    Once again let’s share the trail
    upon the wide frontier
    w’out the strife, let’s ride again;
    Compadre, you an’ me.

  122. The Quality of Mercy
    by William Shakespeare

    (rec’d by Safety Joe)

    The quality of mercy is not strain’d,
    It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
    Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
    It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
    ‘Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
    The throned monarch better than his crown;
    His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
    The attribute to awe and majesty,
    Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
    But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
    It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
    It is an attribute to God himself;
    And earthly power doth then show likest God’s
    When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
    Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
    That, in the course of justice, none of us
    Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
    And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
    The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much
    To mitigate the justice of thy plea;
    Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
    Must needs give sentence ‘gainst the merchant there.

  123. Ben looking at Mr. Fenn’s poem. Only one 9 letter word, no 8 letter words, five 7 letter words, eight 6 letter words like “secret riches” “waters canyon”. Poem still makes sense with the five and four letter words put together. I keep them all in order. Yes, I’m “messing with” the poem by excluding words, but look at the second poem Mr. Fenn wrote within the poem using only the four letter words, in order. I call it :
    Your Just High

    have gone with bold,
    keep hint
    warm halt
    Take down, walk.
    home From meek,
    ever nigh;
    your Just high.
    been wise
    Look down, your
    with gaze,
    Just take that
    must seek?
    know, done weak.
    hear good, your cold.
    wood give gold.

    • IdahoHaldol – are you taking a side trip away from ‘don’t mess with my poem’ Creative, and hey, we’re all tired and need a break from the usual clues.You’re simplified version interests me because it’s a poem. Tomorrow I plan to see if it holds merrit, but one question before i try it, does your solve assume ‘high’ to be north and down to be south or downstream, etc.; out tonight, I’ll let you know what I think tomorrow.

      • nor,

        I have no solve with the four letter word poem. Delighted to find “your Just high” and “wood give gold.” Punctuation and capital letters are left as is.

        Alan M.

  124. Here I sit, broken-hearted
    Tried to quit, but only started

    to realize the immensely complex and analytical convergence of clues coming into view in light of recently posted comments by the combined metacognative and cerebral forces of the universe all convening together at Dal’s site

    Roses are white, yellow, pink and red,
    Violets are really more of a violet than blue,
    As far as this stinkin’ game is going
    Forrest Fenn, I haven’t a CLUE !!!!!

  125. I sit alone, staring out the window
    Where did I go wrong?
    I spent such little time out there on wine, women, and song.

    Oh,no, that’s another thought line, this here’s the chase, real fine
    I’m dreaming maybe one day that ole treasure will be mine
    But off my bottom I must move and head on out the door.
    Too tired, too lazy, too uninspired, did I say too lazy
    Oh, yeah, too lazy to explore

    So on the rug I lay me down, my feet propped on the couch
    The wife, she comes and shoves them off
    What’s the deal I ask? mid-nap.
    Were you born in a barn? replies the grouch.

    Well, yeah, sorta.

    Then out the back door I would travel
    Letting all my thoughts slowly unravel
    I stare and watch the grass grow, (well not really cause it’s much too slow.)
    After getting nothing done for maybe half, no a whole hour
    I head back in, look in the mirror and go to take a (no, not a shower)

    But that word I cannot speak aloud in a public setting
    And all this stuff to say that most certainly I won’t be
    Any closer to the treasure chest that you all seek to find
    I’m happy here, I tell my dear
    Firmly parked on my behind.

    And trouble I do like to cause
    It keeps the blood a flowin’
    And give folks lots of time to pause . . . to pontificate
    and share the stuff they all be knowin.
    I spout off like a geyser, sometimes I get the burn
    But as I sit and read and listen there’s much that I can learn.

    Well, 85% is true or to that tune said he,
    but it’s more like a drop here or a drop there,
    when it comes to the truth
    that comes out of me.

    I never could dazzle ’em with brilliance, so I took the BS route
    and everyone I’ve ever met will eventually let me have it
    With a shout
    But hey, life’s too short to worry
    Take your time now, there’s no rush.

    Good luck in the chase.
    I’ll be back and show my face another time with another rhyme.
    But my personality will be changed. Some will say a bit deranged.
    To those I’ve _ _ _ _ ed, I think you’ve missed the point.
    I’m simply trying to stir the pot. My honest thoughts to post I’ll not.
    It’s more fun that way.

  126. Clues of nine
    Sure sound fine
    You have yours
    I have mine

    Off we go
    To the woods
    Hope to find
    All the goods

    Got no luck
    That’s too bad
    Though much fun
    We all had

    Back we go
    To the stead
    Rest a time
    On our bed

    Yet we stay
    On the chase
    Trek and tread
    To a place

    We now KNOW
    Gold will be
    But once more
    Not to be

    So how long
    Will this last
    Till it’s all
    In the past

    No more blaze
    No more creek
    No more wise
    No more meek

    No more blog
    posts to Dal
    No more search
    No more fail

    When we all
    Go our way
    And this game
    No more play

    Till that time
    Hear him good
    Be ye safe
    In the wood

    Share your tales
    Have some fun
    Put your back
    To the sun

    Lest we miss
    Clues of nine
    You have yours
    I have mine

  127. Loved my solve,
    So imaginative
    and bold.
    Hard to believe
    the trail ran cold.
    I’ll miss listening
    to advice on the blog.
    You’ll hone imagination
    in his game of leap frog.
    Best wishes to you all
    sitting on Fenn’s log.
    I’m headed for the beach
    to clear the chase fog 🙂

  128. Where Love Greets Time

    Time and timelessness meet
    at a point of intersection
    not attributed to time or memories.
    The peaceful Everlasting place
    will be realized upon your knees.
    When self and selfishness yield
    transformed are the fibers of your being.
    In humility your heart will be clean.
    A renewed mind and joy are freeing.
    In God’s presence…unfailing love
    and everlasting peace abide.
    He came to earth, set glory aside
    To identify with you and all mankind.
    Look to God’s Son for eternal treasure.
    Enfold yourself in his arms
    of love and peace beyond measure.

  129. For Renelle

    I wrote the following story for children with terminal cancer, and would like to dedicate it to Renelle.

    With Child-like faith may our hearts be open to the possibility of God’s everlasting paradise. We can only imagine the wonders that await. “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has known what God has prepared for those who love him.” Corinthians 2:9

    “To the Land of Evermore”

    The day that you sail away
    to the Land of Evermore,
    Love will soar with you
    through the clouds to
    Heaven’s door.

    Angels will fold you
    in their wings to hide
    and carry you to Heaven
    on a joyful ride.

    You’ll fly through the sky
    where the sleepy moon slumbers
    past the twinkling stars,
    too many to number.

    Heaven’s melody of love
    will fill the air,
    guiding you safely
    to the land of Evermore.

    On strong legs you’ll run
    through the beautiful doors.
    Dance on top of
    Heaven’s starry floors.

    Daffodils dance in the fields
    of Heaven above;
    Frogs spring back flips
    to heights undreamed of.

    You can splash in a stream
    that bubbles and laughs.
    Roll down a hill
    in soft, sweet grass.

    Climb apple trees
    bathed in golden sunlight.
    Laugh with friends
    to your heart’s delight.

    Sing for joy,
    and close your eyes.
    Dream to angel lullabies.

    Rest with the lamb​
    so gentle and mild.​
    Hear God whisper,
    “I love you child.”

    In the peaceful land
    of Evermore,
    pain and sadness
    are nevermore.

    Heaven’s melody of love
    will fill the air
    in the wonderful land
    of Evermore

    [2012 Copyright
    Swan River Publishing]

  130. I know you went alone in there,
    to hide your trove I see.
    Brave you were, I can tell,
    By the hint and clues you gave to me.

    I began it where warm waters halt.
    I took it in the canyon down,
    and yes it was a ways to walk,
    I put in below the home of brown.

    From here I wasn’t meek you see,
    I was brave as one could be.
    Took my nigh and continued on,
    The path you left for me.

    I did not paddle up my creek,
    for the chest I surely seek.
    Heavy loads nor water high,
    Could turn my brave to meek.

    I’ve been wise and found the blaze,
    looked quickly down you see.
    I see the path in which you speak,
    A gaze is overcoming me.

    I understand why your treasure,
    Is here for all to seek.
    I wish you well on your next adventure,
    I see your tired and weak.

    Though I live many miles away,
    The gold I surely see.
    Like most I feel the chest was hidden,
    Especially for me.

    Soon I will try my solve,
    And see what it prevails.
    I hope to see the gold and jewels,
    Of Santa Fe’s ” Holy Grail “.

    One thing that I have surely learned,
    In the mountains around this town.
    That friends will be forever,
    And ” ALWAYS ” looking down.

    I dedicate this to Renelle and all of her friends in the chase.

    ” Though you are gone, we know you are here ”

    ” Rest in Peace “

  131. I was going thru some old “writings”, and came across this. Wrote it 20 plus years ago. Sometimes irony gets in your face. Enjoy…


    I lie awake
    In this sleepless slumber
    I’m not alone by far
    I am just one part
    As we are all just another number
    In this great big equation
    That doesn’t really add up
    If really we were all
    More whole
    Maybe each of our insomniacs’ soul
    Could count sheep
    Even an infinite herd could never promise sleep
    So unsolved problems are filed away
    And we weep
    For the half of us who’s whole is just a dream
    A dream
    For which should all
    As we sleepless lay
    The solution to

    • I enjoyed that, jdiggins.
      The night before I could not go to sleep. Very unusual for me.
      I had just stumbled onto a breakthrough in my search.
      I’m on fire again!
      Thanks, I appreciated that poem!

      • Thx specialklr…I’m pleased you enjoyed it, and appreciate your comment. I’m glad your on fire, it’s so exhilarating to find an interesting new path! Best of luck! 🙂

  132. Jdiggins, underpinning all irony is truth. I’m sorry that 20 years ago what troubled your mind were feelings of a soul not complete. You were graced with wisdom from above at that time – for the answer is prayer then and now. When I’m troubled in the night hours I surrender troubling thoughts to God and try to pray for others to take the focus off myself. I like your poem, and will read it again at 3 am…said the insomniac 🙂

  133. Well, I said the chase, forrest, has re – inspired me, and if no other contributions I can make, here are a couple oldies…but goodies:

    A dreamer Believes
    A quitter, he grieves
    And so tells his tales of woe.
    But he who achieves
    What his dreaming conceives,
    Has no limit to where he may go.

    And another….

    So many yesterday’s
    I could’ve saved,
    If only I had the wisdoms I do today.
    And though I am now wiser,
    There still is yet tomorrow
    To remind me of my naivete’.

    Both copy write 1994

  134. I found this today on a very old postcard. Author unknown. I thought perhaps FF would enjoy it.

    Take me back to old Montana Where there’s plenty room and air: Where there’s cottonwood an ‘pine trees Bitter-root an’ prickly pear; Where there aint no pomp nor glitter Where a shillin’s called a “bit.” Where at night the magpies twitter. Where the Injun flights were fit. Take me back where the sage is plenty, Where there’s rattlesnakes and ticks; where a stack of “whites” costs twenty; Where they don’t sell gilded bricks. Where the old Missouri river An’ the muddy Yellowstone Make green patches in the Bad Lands Where old Sittin’ Bull was known. Take me where there ain’t no subways, nor no forty-story shacks; Where they shy at automobiles. Dudes, plug hats an’ three rail tracks; Where the old sun-tanned prospector Dreams of the sleepy night herd puncher Sings to steers and plys the quirt. Take me where there’s diamond hitches. Ropes an’ brands an’ ca’tridge belts; Where the boys wear shapps for britches. Flannel shirts an’ Stetson felts, Land of alfalfa an’ copper ! Land of sapphire an gold; Take me back to dear Montana. Let me die there when I’m Old.

    • Kat, I just realized there’s a poetry page, and enjoyed your postcard piece about Montana. It’s all true still. There is an honesty about the land and people. They simply are who they are without pomp and circumstance…. fiercely independent and self reliant; content with nature’s raw beauty.

      (none of the poetry page comes to my email, how do I get comments from ALL scrapbooks. feel like I’m missing half of what I need to solve.)

  135. I stay up to celebrate myself.
    One minute in the new year to begin.

    How old is old, I ask?
    An answer I never hear.

    As daffodils grow like silent spring,
    the years just melt away.

    I ask myself where have I been?
    An answer I never hear.

    A façade of what I use to be,
    Keeps staring back at me.

    How do I make peace with what I see?
    An answer I never hear.

    Be kind to myself, I always say
    Joy will come another day.

    How do I right the wrongs that I have done?
    An answer I never hear.

    Life is short, of that we all agree
    Take a deep breath for me and thee.

    How do I say thanks for all that’s been?
    An answer that sustains till the end.

  136. The Road Not Taken
    By Robert Frost

    Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I — I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

  137. I’ll say it…not even being cryptic.
    “frost” is my wwwh.

    Nothing Gold Can Stay
    Nature’s first green is gold,
    Her hardest hue to hold.
    Her early leaf’s a flower;
    But only so an hour.
    Then leaf subsides to leaf.
    So Eden sank to grief,
    So dawn goes down to day.
    Nothing gold can stay.

  138. Poem for Mom

    Mom, you’re just a girl
    So popular and all
    Hardly a match
    For my dad Larrie R

    You’re just THE girl
    For eternity, Mom
    Our little family
    We started out small

    Hardly any mistakes
    Washing diapers back then
    We always felt special
    Mom was our best friend

    Lessons and practice
    Roadshows and plays
    Theater and music
    Your talents displayed

    Toughskins, socks
    Your color was yours
    The work never stopped
    You’re an expert at chores

    How did you do it?
    Church callings and things
    Piano and organ
    You made the choir sing

    Alphabet dinners were a big hit
    Homemade bread and pie
    Bean sandwiches
    Powdered milk, french fries

    The brown station wagon
    Off to church and on trips
    Bouncy roads
    Always somebody sick

    Summer vacation
    Lakeside and Linden
    Helene and Vada
    Like you, Great women

    Prayer and faith
    None stronger than yours
    You never forgot
    To teach what’s right

    Our duty to God
    Your expectations were high
    You always said you’d go
    In the twinkling of an eye

    How did you do it?
    11 Eagles
    11 Missionaries
    1 remarkable daughter

    Brush your teeth
    And get to bed
    Clean your room
    Turn off the water

    Of course There’s more
    It’s impossible to list
    Now you can’t walk
    You’re nothing like this

    You’re strong. You’re Bold
    Lots of stories untold
    How you loved and served
    You broke the mold.

    We learned what’s important
    We learned what to do
    No one will ever
    Be as awesome as you

    You’re just a girl
    You’re just a Mom
    We love you Mother
    For all we’ve become

    By DeCall Thomas
    (My mom won’t make it for long, pale and weak, and in bed for a year with cancer. Just had to share my feelings with ya’ll)

    • Thanks for sharing that. You have much to be thankful for. Happiness comes from gratitude not the other way around.

    • Decall – that is a lovely poem and tribute to your mother. Know that there are people on here who care about you and what you are dealing with in your life at this time.

    • Decall,
      what a beautiful tribute. I hope you framed it and put it by her bed. 🙂 It’s a tough road you’re traveling down but I’ve been there as well. Writing will help you through it. You and your mother are in my prayers.

  139. A chest of gold
    A secret untold
    Thousands of searchers
    For yet to unfold

    Where do the riches lie
    New and old and nigh
    Where could it be
    Is it down or is it high?

    A maze of words
    A flock of birds
    Who migrate to page
    Ones, twos and thirds

    It’s there for the take
    Poker game high stake
    Who will win the lot
    Who will pull the take?

    ( 🙂 )

  140. Can’t sleep …can’t study…
    Thought I’d share an oldie…

    I thought I knew it all
    How wrong was I
    Each year I’ve grown wiser
    Though I don’t know why
    As we live we learn
    And never enough
    Our lives are full
    And some lessons so rough
    With every mistake I’m all the wiser
    With love and hope I’m truly the miser
    A laugh, a smile
    Each friendly hello
    From these small gifts
    My strength will grow
    I’ve found it you see
    I’ve grasped it all
    I’ve climbed the mountain
    And I’ll never fall.

  141. A Perfect find!

    The Lost Garden

    There was a fair green garden sloping 
    From the south-east side of the mountain-ledge; 
    And the earliest tint of the dawn came groping 
    Down through its paths, from the day’s dim edge. 
    The bluest skies and the reddest roses 
    Arched and varied its velvet sod; 
    And the glad birds sang, as the soul supposes 
    The angels sing on the hills of God. 
    I wandered there when my veins seemed bursting 
    With life’s rare rapture and keen delight, 
    And yet in my heart was a constant thirsting 
    For something over the mountain-height. 
    I wanted to stand in the blaze of glory 
    That turned to crimson the peaks of snow, 
    And the winds from the west all breathed a story 
    Of realms and regions I longed to know. 
    I saw on the garden’s south side growing 
    The brightest blossoms that breathe of June; 
    I saw in the east how the sun was glowing, 
    And the gold air shook with a wild bird’s tune; 
    I heard the drip of a silver fountain, 
    And the pulse of a young laugh throbbed with glee 
    But still I looked out over the mountain 
    Where unnamed wonders awaited me. 
    I came at last to the western gateway, 
    That led to the path I longed to climb; 
    But a shadow fell on my spirit straightway, 
    For close at my side stood gray-beard Time. 
    I paused, with feet that were fain to linger, 
    Hard by that garden’s golden gate, 
    But Time spoke, pointing with one stern finger; 
    ‘Pass on,’ he said, ‘for the day groes late.’ 
    And now on the chill giay cliffs I wander, 
    The heights recede which I thought to find, 
    And the light seems dim on the mountain yonder, 
    When I think of the garden I left behind. 
    Should I stand at last on its summit’s splendor, 
    I know full well it would not repay 
    For the fair lost tints of the dawn so tender 
    That crept up over the edge o’ day. 
    I would go back, but the ways are winding, 
    If ways there are to that land, in sooth, 
    For what man succeeds in ever finding 
    A path to the garden of his lost youth? 
    But I think sometimes, when the June stars glisten, 
    That a rose scent dufts from far away, 
    And I know, when I lean from the cliffs and listen, 
    That a young laugh breaks on the air like spray.

    Ella Wheeler Wilcox

    • Great poem jdiggins. I could smell the scent of roses and hear young laughter. Amazing how certain scents bring back strong memories.

  142. The Bridge Builder

    An old man travel’ling a lone highway,
    Came at the evening cold and gray,
    To a chasm vast and deep and wide,
    The old man crossed in the twilight dim,
    The swollen stream had no fear for him.
    But, he turned when safe on the other side,
    And built a bridge to span the tide.

    “Old man,” said a fellow pilgrim near,
    You are wasting you strength in building here.
    Your journey will end with the ending day.
    You never again will pass this way.
    You’ve crossed the chasm deep and wide
    Why build you this bridge at evening tide?

    The builder lifted his old grey head,
    “Good friend, in the path I have come,” he said
    There followeth after me today,
    A youth whose feet must pass this way.
    This chasm that has been as naught to me,
    To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be.
    He too, must cross in the twilight dim.
    “Good friend, I am building the bridge for him.”

  143. Autumn

    William Blake 1783

    O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain’d
    With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
    Beneath my shady roof; there thou may’st rest,
    And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,
    And all the daughters of the year shall dance!
    Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

    “The narrow bud opens her beauties to
    The sun, and love runs in her thrilling veins;
    Blossoms hang round the brows of Morning, and
    Flourish down the bright cheek of modest Eve,
    Till clust’ring Summer breaks forth into singing,
    And feather’d clouds strew flowers round her head.

    “The spirits of the air live in the smells
    Of fruit; and Joy, with pinions light, roves round
    The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.”
    Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat,
    Then rose, girded himself, and o’er the bleak
    Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.

  144. trick or treat
    trick or treat
    give us something good to eat
    if you don’t
    we don’t care
    we’ll pull down your underwear
    trick or treat
    trick or treat
    give us something gold to hold
    if you don’t
    we don’t care
    we will keep your secret where
    Be afraid of the dark! Happy Halloween!

  145. Cottonwood

    by hawkeslake

    The sturdy tree trunk resents limb,
    A supple branch who bends in wind;
    The limb, though, longs for fluttering leaf
    That brilliant sun puts in relief.
    The listing leaf loves cottony thread
    Dancing down to flower bed.

    Floating bright without a sound,
    The down falls helpless to the ground.
    It fears the distance from its home
    As it descends into unknown.

    It wonders why it could not be
    As strong and steadfast as the tree.

    • Ed, I obviously don’t frequent the poetry page often enough. I love this cottonwood poem! A beautiful picture of the cycle of life and nature’s dance.

      (The poetry posts don’t come to my email as the others do)

  146. She smiled sweetly at anything;
    she couldn’t help it; the trees, me, the grass, anything.
    I pulled her smile down, dragging her to sadness.

    There she was, smiling at everything,
    struggling across the field
    with a heavy box containing Lord knew what.

    I got up. It was so amazing. There I was in a dream,
    standing up, my two feet on the ground, my mind flying.
    I said, “Let me help.”

    She smiled again and gave me the box.
    We began to walk. She led the way.
    Beyond the trees we walked. And she smiled.

    She talked, she told me things I never thought of.
    It didn’t matter. In a dream she saw me, in a dream
    I followed her under the blinding sun.

    She talked in a low voice made of music.
    What words! What she said!
    I remembered nothing. I was only happy.

    In my heart I was crying. I should have been.
    We fished from so many shores,
    I wondered why she did not sit
    and hold me as I drifted away.

  147. ( I have a personal belief that FF poem was influenced by reading Robert Frost)

    The Road Not Taken

    Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
    And sorry I could not travel both
    And be one traveler, long I stood
    And looked down one as far as I could
    To where it bent in the undergrowth;

    Then took the other, as just as fair,
    And having perhaps the better claim,
    Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
    Though as for that the passing there
    Had worn them really about the same,

    And both that morning equally lay
    In leaves no step had trodden black.
    Oh, I kept the first for another day!
    Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
    I doubted if I should ever come back.

    I shall be telling this with a sigh
    Somewhere ages and ages hence:
    Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
    I took the one less traveled by,
    And that has made all the difference.
    ― Robert Frost

    • Thank you, Michael, for sharing. That is a beautiful poem. Robert also captured the essence of Flutterbies:

      Nothing Gold Can Stay

      Nature’s first green is gold,
      Her hardest hue to hold.

      Her early leaf’s a flower;
      But only so an hour.

      Then leaf subsides to leaf.
      So Eden sank to grief,

      So dawn goes down to day.
      Nothing gold can stay.

      – Robert Frost

    • Michael, I still like the one you wrote above the best. Imaged or truly dreamt it is amazing…:)

  148. This is not a Poem but rather an excert from a silly story I wrote a few years back. It not very good but I liked this portion of it in relation to Forrests’ poem

    The Wise Old Fox replied – Oh Sweet Pea we get to be in both worlds because because we do not limit ourselves to just being logical like everyone else. We truly use the power of imagination to take us to the hidden forest of Thornwood. Most refuse to let their imagination grow with them as they get older. As they grow up they replace it more and more with the logical sensibility of what they THINK the world is supposed to be. They could never ever truly believe that they could really travel into Thornwood Forest and play hide and seek with the unicorns, have a picnic at the babbling brook while listening to the fairies singing to the butterflies and then have a friendly visit with a Wise Old Fox…. But yet here we are.

    Excuse my grammer I’m from upriver:)

  149. JC, The song ‘Sky Full of Stars’ is my favorite one on there.
    Reminds me of the picture of f sitting in the graveyard looking up at the ‘sky full of stars’…

    • I must have searched wrong I will keep looking maybe I have the wrong song. Sure don’t see any sky’s filled with stars just some stars trapsing through the streets thinking they are grand. The best part of the video is the Graffiti “I have a Dream” on the building. I am a big Billy Joel fan. Probably my favorite song of all time.

      • I agree, Spallies. The video for “Sky Full of Stars” isn’t very good. What’s that all about anyway? 4 one-man-bands? Seriously? I thought a one-man-band was just that…a one-man-band.

        The lead singer in the video reminded me of a funny joke, though. You’ll love this.

        What’s better than roses on your piano?

        Tulips on your…GUITAR!

        Get it? Tulips on your guitar? 🙂

  150. heinrichs and everard
    eric and sloane

    A quest for warm waters
    I seek all alone.

    (There is Pueblo, blazing Brown home)

    I see the numbers
    1 2 3 and 4

    I’ve slipped on the rocks
    and I’ve been here before.

    I walk narrow canon
    and given up on dam

    But where is the help
    from my dear Annie Graham?

    pirate jim

  151. Did my ears hear the whisper;
    Did the little bird sing?
    Or could it be
    I’m imagining?
    “Shhh…” said hushed voice
    “You must wait until spring.”
    And I thought
    Do I have any choice?
    “Close your eyes…dream,
    Soon the time will come,
    Soon it will be spring.”
    And aloud I spoke,
    “Why do you whisper?
    Why do you not sing?
    Or, am I just imagining?
    “Curious…” I say.
    Then go bout my way.
    Silly thing!

  152. jdiggins, really nice poem, and a sweet reminder to close my eyes and dream. My good dreams have a mind of their own and replay themselves. Lately I dream that my dad or a Someone like dad is worried; but has 6 great years ahead and then two more. A peaceful dream, do you think I should tell my dad? Never sure if just a dream or means something.

    • Lia,
      I’ve learned that if you feel you should share something with a loved one, then yes, you definitely should.
      A dream may be just a dream, and people are real. They are life, flesh and blood. Both dreams and the living equally aspire to “be”, yet are still fleeting. Here, then gone. Sad, but true.

  153. How about this for a theory???

    As I have gone alone in there
    And with my treasures bold,
    Mr. Forrest Fenn has boldly displayed many of his beautiful treasures online at various websites. He has probably even gone alone into the source code himself of the websites….IMHO

    I can keep my secret where,
    And hint of riches new and old.
    His secret is the chest and his knowledge of computers and the Internet gives us all access to riches new and old. The hint is to look on the Internet.

    But, Where to look???

    Begin it where warm waters halt
    WWW. (wwwdot=stop)
    Where did almost all of us start? Online.
    I started at the Old Santé Fe Trading Co… (Dal’s site was second… sorry Dal)
    So you BEGIN at the Old Santé Fe Trading Co. You can also use Warm Water Halt to mean when water Freezes or as in the Frieze of the website the top banner of the Website “Old Santé Fe Trading Co.

    And take it in the canyon down,
    Move down from the Frieze to the other links (not too far)

    Not far, but too far to walk.
    Anagrams to TONTO Buffalo Artwork (we’ll revisit this later). Could also mean go from the link “Home” to the link for the “store”. It’s usually not to far but too far to walk to the store…

    Put in below the home of Brown.
    Home of Brown is his nickname for his website. Maybe because of the brown siding behind the Frieze or it just kind of Brown looking with all that BROWN.

    What? is put in below the home of Brown?? I don’t know the technical term but there is a set of rotating images starting with his new book Too Far to Walk.

    From there it’s no place for the meek,
    The end is ever drawing nigh;
    Once you are above the images the end is ever drawing nigh because they keep rotating again I don’t know the technical term but I am sure Forrest does.

    There’ll be no paddle up your creek,
    Just heavy loads and water high.
    No Paddles needed here to navigate but with images come heavy data loads…

    If you’ve been wise and found the blaze,
    Look quickly down, your quest to cease,
    The Blaze = TONTO Buffalo Artwork we found from Anagramming Not far but Too Far to Walk. TONTO= silly or stupid in Spanish. There is a VERY Silly piece of Buffalo artwork in the fifth picture in the group. If you look quickly down you can see the chest sticking out from a pottery pot. It is hidden by some objects and the picture is blurry but it is there. I believe you could also find the Blaze without the anagram if you figured out you needed to be on the website since the crazy piece of Buffalo artwork also has a sort of Blaze.

    But tarry scant with marvel gaze, …
    Just take the chest and go in peace.
    Don’t take your time or the picture will change…:)
    Just save the picture and there is a great article on Sitting Bull’s peace pipe that if you read you learn that Forrest used a lot of imaging techniques to prove the authenticity of the pipe. This is when I first started thinking Forrest knew a lot more about technology than he was letting on.

    So why is it that I must go
    And leave my trove for all to seek?
    This was easy I think a lot of people got this “The Thrill of the Chase!!!

    The answer I already know,
    I’ve done it tired, and now I’m weak.
    He explored and played in the outdoors even when he was tired but now he is week so he is exploring and playing online…

    So hear me all and listen good,
    Your effort will be worth the cold.
    This one was the HARD one and I mean hard! The cold was not hearing anything from Forrest. But I could hear him on the Blog and I even listened a few times although many times I was deaf. Sorry…

    If you are brave and in the wood
    Initially I thought this meant Brave=Explorer=Internet Explorer. But I think I have finally learned that it was to be brave to post you picture and brave enough to do other things I am terrible embarrassed by…. Yeah let’s call Forrest Fenn!!! Why is your number published then Huh???

    I give you title to the gold
    This is the last line of the Poem but for me held the Key word “Title” If you anagram the FULL Title of the Book “The Thrill of The Chase A Memoir” you get
    “E-Mail Forrest to Claim He He”

    Sounds like someone we know???

    And my final confirmation was:

    We Shall not cease from our exploration
    And at the end of all our exploring
    Will be to arrive where we started
    And know the place for the first time.

    Dal I don’t know how to post a picture of the chest below the buffalo???

    But if you go to the Old Sante Fe Trading Co.com It is the # 5 picture in the scroll of pictures click #5 or CE5 maybe??? Still haven’t figured that one out yet????


    • Spallies- which piece of pottery are you referring to? I can see it (maybe it’s because I’m on a phone…but if it’s really I would love to see it…is it on the floor? Either way I salute you!

        • Its in the big pottery bowl below the Silly Buffalo artwork.. You can’t miss the Silly Buffalo artwork it has funny eyes look down from there.

          • I can’t say about the treasure chest, but it looks like Forrest ilikessitting on his zeebs 🙂 the best

            I love looking at those photos spallies

            And I treasure them all, geez,,,

            (that’s all the rhyming I could manage so early in the morning)

    • Spallies – Well Done!!
      You translated such an interesting layer of Forrest’s poem – I would have never thought of it. Imo there are at least nine layers that we might be able to discern; and most likely ff could reel off 99 different ways to translate it in 4 states.
      Architectural, word association, art, music, math equations, muses, constellations, poets, fishing holes, types of water, surveyors terms, movies, aviation, paleo history, spiritual, western expansion, his personal stories, numerical associations, marvel cartoons… And the list goes on.

    • Spallies I downloaded that photo to look at it up close, I don’t see what you are talking about. Maybe I’m looking in the wrong place.

      That same photo was the topic of great discussion two or three years ago. There is a lot of stuff in that photo. If you look above where I think you are talking about you will see a painting hanging on the wall; right above the rifles. That picture is obviously photo shopped in. Perhaps to hide something on the wall, or maybe a clue. There was great consternation with folks trying to identify that painting. Right above the painting is a security camera.

      • Yes, I agree with you totally about the picture and the camera. A lot of items in the picture appear to have been tampered with or modified… It’s like a Where’s Fenn Picture… But I stick with my solve,

        “It’s below the Tonto Buffalo”

      • That photo is not from his house. That photo is from his office at Fenn Gallery. It was taken when he still owned Fenn Gallery. Probably in the mid-late 80s. L_O_N_G before he hid the chest. I asked Forrest about that added picture a few years ago. I wanted to use the photo on this blog but didn’t much care for the “added” picture. When I asked if he had an original of this photo without the added picture his response clearly told me that he had not noticed that added picture until I pointed it out. If he was “acting” it was a very convincing job. I don’t think he knew it was there and I don’t think he knew who put it there or why. He also said that he looked but couldn’t find a copy of the photograph without the added picture.

        The cameras are security cameras in his gallery. They were still mounted in the gallery last year. The bank of monitors was also part of the security system in the gallery where he had quite a few cameras installed after the place was broken into. I looked closely at the system when I was there with Forrest and when I went back to interview the present owner of the gallery. I didn’t see anything suspicious.

    • So… I was hoping for a bit more feedback on this… I know its not rocket science like Victors solve but does anyone see anything useful here??? A different direction perhaps??? Thanks in advance… I appreciate any input negative or positive….

      • I’m going to see if I can figure out what you were saying tomorrow. I’m too tired tonight and my straight just got beat by a shack. Time to curl up in my buffalo skin blanket and get down to some serious shuteye. Hope that link is working tomorrow.

      • Spallies, I’m up late/early doing some work and have a few minutes so since you asked for it 🙂 and aren’t getting other responses I’ll chime in. All is just my opinion……

        You wrote, “Yep, That’s my final answer I believe it is there.” You seem adamant about your solution so maybe that’s why folks aren’t responding.

        You know I didn’t see anything in your photograph so I won’t go over that again. I also don’t agree that his website has anything (or very little) to do with the poem. Other than his stories and blog entries he has made there.

        There have been several things over the years that lead me to believe Fenn is not that tech savvy about computers. Certainly not at the level of scouring source code. I’m not saying he’s not smart enough to do it, I just don’t think he wants to. I could go on about intent, timeline, his approach to the chase when he started etc. but all of that is just conjecture on my part and can be rationalized away if one chooses to do so.

        We simply have a difference of opinion…….Please don’t think I’m picking on you but I do have a question. Lets say you are correct; the chest is in the basket (I think that is what you are saying). Do you mean the basket with the chest in it is north of Santa Fe and there is another set of instructions in the poem to take us to the basket?

        If you are correct and the chest is in the basket what do we do now?

  154. I see the buffalo and I see the bowl…but I don’t see the chest in the bowl, even really zoomed in. Maybe it’s my phone, but maybe it’s another possibility as well. In which case I would offer you that idea privately just in case since it’s your solve…but are you 100% sure you see the chest clearly right there? If so the other thought as to where it might be in is a moot point.

  155. Yep, That’s my final answer I believe it is there. There is of course another treasure in the room…. But not the one we all are looking for…:)

    • Spallies….I believe I have SEVERAL missing links to this solve, unless you are not listing everything here. If you are intentionally leaving out some parts I totally understand, but if not is there a way I could email you privately? I could be nuts…I’m wrestling with what to do and what’s right in my shoes. Ugh!

      • Thanks Jamie, I think the only thing that is missing from my solve is the picture of the chest below the Blaze but I don’t know how to post pictures here. But it is there on The Old Sante fe Co. website for all to see…

        And yes, I am sure I have missed SEVERAL missing links along the way… IMO

        • Well, email Forrest and see what he says. I can bet you he says,”Its in the mountains north of Santa Fe.”

          Google Forrest Fenn Collection to find the original uncropped picture.

          • I have tried can’t find this particular pot online… I guess I will keep looking… Thanks for the tip.

        • …um…I was just trying to be helpful and tell you where to email it to and how to address it as I feel that now that you published this if you don’t do it someone else will. I didn’t mean to force any advice on you, but feel that if you don’t want any advice then it’s fair game to myself or anyone else that may have a spin on it to go ahead and submit it. Maybe I am incorrect on what I think, but it only seemed right to offer it to you before acting on it myself, that’s all. I truly do hope you had it right, and thanks for sharing the picture 🙂

          • Thanks Jaimie, I still stand by my solve but if you have something that will get you closer to the chest than I am glad I could be of help. Isn’t that why we are all here to share ideas and help each other along? Thanks for giving me the chance first that was very nice of you. Good Luck!

  156. Dilemma

    As I sit and ponder
    how my chase has gone,
    learning with thrill and wonder
    while others’ lives move on.

    I feel a strong connection
    to all of those within,
    imagine my perplexion
    when this disagrees with kin.

    They all think I’m crazy
    save for one or two,
    there’s been times here lately
    I’ve wondered about that too.

    I often look back wondering why
    things happened in that way,
    hiking through the snow thigh-high
    and digging big holes that day.

    Looking here and searching there
    each spot was so unique,
    finding places to look every-where
    my curiosity would pique.

    Although I think I thought I saw
    a glimmer of the prize,
    I have yet to confirm it all
    with my own wide eyes.

    I wonder what would happen
    if my quest did cease,
    would my wings start flappin
    or would I be at peace.

    Would I stay or would I go
    or would I try to do more,
    how could I say yes or no
    when there’s one foot out the door.

    So my friends it’s not that I’m
    ignoring all of you.
    it’s just I’ve found that all this time
    I don’t know what to do.

      • So true…But didn’t Mr. F say something to effect
        that Indecision is key?
        Maybe that means we ALL win! LOL

        Happy Thanksgiving!

    • Nice JCL, mee too 🙂

      My wings would be a’flapping;
      My mood would be so foul.
      To think of giving up the chase
      Would surely make me howl.

      The kinfolk think I’m crazy.
      I almost hear them say,
      She grows more eccentric
      With every passing day.

  157. In case I forget tomorrow
    In all the rush and melee’
    I send my best good wishes
    For a Happy Turkey day!

    Be safe everyone!

  158. Thanks

    If you’re having trouble finding
    thankfulness you see,
    ask yourself this question
    or these two or three.

    Who am I? is a good one
    with an answer I can see,
    you are you
    and can be anything you want to be.

    What am I? is a question
    that many try to seek.
    I have found one answer that fits
    You are Unique.

    Who am I to you? is a question
    that goes hand in hand,
    with an answer that holds true
    for all souls on this land.

    You’re my friend as all souls are
    whether near or far.
    even with-out a telescope
    I can see your star!

    So, what is there to be thankful for?
    Without a doubt I know it’s true,
    I will always be thankful for…
    You, You, You, and YOU!

    • Your poem warms my heart, and I know that it is meant for us all. I hope you won’t mind if I should treasure it as my own 🙂

    • Very nice poem, indeed! It reminds me of another poem I shared a while back. (below) It might have been on this poetry page or some other blog. I don’t recall where or when…but that’s not important. What IS important is the message and the words.

      I am thankful for many things…especially at this Thanksgiving time when I ponder those things. Near the top of the list…or even on par with “items” on the top…like family…are true friends.

      Imagine what it would be like to live in a world without strangers.

      Happy Thanksgiving…to all my friends I’ve never met.

      ‘No Man is an Island’

      No man is an island entire of itself; every man
      is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;
      if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe
      is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as
      well as any manner of thy friends or of thine
      own were; any man’s death diminishes me,
      because I am involved in mankind.
      And therefore never send to know for whom
      the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

      Olde English Version
      No man is an Iland, intire of itselfe; every man
      is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine;
      if a Clod bee washed away by the Sea, Europe
      is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were, as
      well as if a Manor of thy friends or of thine
      owne were; any mans death diminishes me,
      because I am involved in Mankinde;
      And therefore never send to know for whom
      the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.

      Devotions upon Emergent Occasions
      John Donne

        • That’s a good question, Spallies. I had to look him up. I really only remember his “no man is an island” concept…kind of like I only remember Joyce Kilmer because of his “Trees” poem.

          It turns out that John Donne was the pre-eminent “metaphysical poet” whose “poetry is noted for its vibrancy of language and inventiveness of metaphor”. In fact, there’s so many interesting things about him that I better just post the Wikipedia link. Like, “Trinity”, for example.

          This Thanksgiving I would also like to thank Wikipedia. I love you, Wikipedia.

          And a BIG Thanks to Forrest and Dal!


  159. I heard about the treasure, about two years ago. Since then its ate up all my time, its hard to let it go. There’s many factors in this chase. It really is a thrill. something to look forward to and the way it makes me feel. I have a spot in mind to look, next time I’m on the prowl. It won’t be for a couple months, I wish I could go now. There’s lots of nonbelievers who think I waste my time. But hey, I beg to differ, enjoyments not a crime. I wish I had just half the life that Forrest has lived thru. He really is a work of art and with that the final clue.

  160. Yes, wouldn’t it be amazing to live just half the life that Forrest has… I guess I need to get in gear and get going…. It’s a treasured life he has created for himself…:)

  161. Thank you JCL, jdiggins, and louie.

    The day I first found this page
    And my thoughts took rhyming form,
    I was sitting in a brick truck stop
    Seeking shelter from a storm.

    My soul was very anxious
    As the twister passed me by.
    But I found comfort in all your words
    And still do by and by.

    Tonight has been a blessing
    As I visit one more time.
    I am so very thankful
    For all my friends in rhyme.

    And,,, 🙂

    Chasers, hunters, gamers,
    Seekers with screen namers,
    And the bloggers who like to spend their time
    Interpreting the clues with thoughtful mind.

    Have a peaceful, joyful holiday.

  162. Thankyou Forrest for giving me the Thrill of the Chase. Thankyou Dal for helping with clues by setting up this blog and Goofy thankyou for keeping the Peace while Dal is out doing who knows what..
    Happy Thanksgiving Everyone.!!!! Be wise! Be safe!

  163. I sent this to Forrest a little over a month ago when I read about the treasure and ordered his books. It was an oath to him to find the treasure of hope that he had placed out there in the world…. a place where opposite forces try to tear down the good in people like said hope and belief. Please understand I am no poet, and my prose probably isn’t grammatically correct, but I titled it AN OATH TO THE FORREST….


    The mighty tree stands aged and tall,
    Watching over the young forest below.
    As the sapling stares up at him in awe,
    It now knows how high it too can grow.

    The tiny stream pushes and fights for more,
    It’s siblings join with their current to invest.
    When all have journeyed to the great shore,
    An old and robust river is allowed to rest.

    But amidst nature’s greatness and aspiration,
    There are antagonists to a noble and grand plan.
    Storms, fire, and humans across every nation,
    Strive to destroy it all … and they surely can.

    If only there were a hero strong and pure of heart,
    Who believed in a much larger and destined prospect.
    Someone to fight for the importance of a start,
    A person like that, the dreams of life he could protect.

    Within this war where hope has no dawn,
    And despair controls our arduous fight,
    Perhaps I am that battered and cocooned pawn,
    On the fringe…of being born a knight.

    So on this day I make an oath to the Forrest,
    To try with all of my might and ensure its history.
    Whether help comes from the richest or the poorest,
    We just might give conviction a well-deserved victory.

    • I don’t believe in rules for poetry.
      If it comes from your heart it’s poetry. 🙂
      Very nice.

    • Iron Will,

      Thank you for sharing that was very touching… I imagine Forrest appreciates your oath to continue to protect those things that are important to him.

      • well thank you 😛 Actually though, it was a metaphorical poem about a promise to protect Forrest’s legacy

          • It was about Forrest. I’ll elaborate. In my first email to him I told him I see his legacy becoming that of Thomas Jefferson Beale given a cple decades, people would start hinting it was all a hoax or fraud, and that the majority of this world would rather try to falsely crucify someone instead of admit to themselves that they were wrong. I told him that 1,000 years from now, if someone found it, his legacy would be vidicated by the few who cared, but for that 999 years the populace would see only hoax, fraud, and someone faking a treasure to sell books.

            That is when you start to realize that despair and disdain have been winning a war against hope and conviction for the longest time. Forrest is on that good side, while all the simple minded people reside on the other side trying to bury him under so much doubt and conspiracy. You can see it in reporters’ smirking glances when doing a report on it, or a reservation official completely boasting that it doesn’t exist, or even a park ranger speaking of it calling it “purported”. And that was all after just 3 years. Imagine 30 yrs from now. Then imagine 300 yrs. Being a fellow veteran I told him I could not allow that to happen and that I would find his chest to show the world that he gave EVERYONE out there a “chance” to make a better life for themselves if only they could have held strong to conviction and hope, instead of the opposite. So I wrote the poem as an OATH to find the chest. The Nature comments are about him and his life. Sorry if it was a little vague 😛

          • Also, I believe we can all protect Forrest’s legacy by finding our own special spot in the forest.

            My Family has such a spot we call it Camp Site #9.
            I won’t say where it is but we have continued to pass it down the line.

          • Will,

            Thank you… I am humbled by your dedication. I wish too that there weren’t all those people in the world who will naysay and discount his treasure. Those of use who believe in peace and good can see it…

            It is those who can’t see it that should be concerned…

            The whole Beale thing has crossed my radar but I have not looked into it perhaps it is time to take a peek…:)

  164. So I took advantage of the day off from work to do some deep cleaning. I had my own personal treasure hunt of sorts. I needed to clean out some drawers that had been long neglected and I was also hoping to find a poem my baby chama wrote when she was in the fifth grade. I did not find the poem I was looking for but I did stumble across the following treasure. One my baby chama wrote when she must have been around 7 or 8 I Think. It was in her original handwriting a true treasure to find.
    I included her spelling errors as to me they are not errors but placed there intentionally.

    Baby Chama’s Poem:
    I got up one morning, morning so fine
    I came around the corne an what did I find
    My dear old momy gust stadin right there
    turn here head and looked at me and seed
    I wish I had a bunny and the bunny was red
    Owh your sow snapy I wish you were a kid.

    I have no idea what it means but I love it…

    Next up to the attack to find my the poem I was looking for…

  165. In the first month of chasing
    Ole’ forrest gave to me
    A lesson in history…
    In the second month of chasing
    Ole’ forrest gave to me
    Too Far To Walk, and a lesson in history….
    In the third month of chasing
    Ole’ forrest gave to me
    Three aha moments, too far to walk, and a lesson in history…
    In the fourth month of chasing
    Ole’ forrest gave to me
    Four giant blisters, three aha moments, too far to walk, and a lesson in history…
    In the fifth month of chasing
    Ole’ forrest gave to me
    Five brand new muscles…..
    ….four giant blisters, three aha moments, too far to walk, and a lesson in history…
    In the sixth month of chasing
    Ole’ forrest gave to me
    Six scribbled journals, Five brand new muscles……
    …four giant blisters, three aha moments, too far to walk, and a lesson in history…
    In the seventh month of chasing
    Ole’ forrest gave to me
    Seven reams of notes, six scribbled journals, Five brand new muscles ..
    Four giant blisters, three aha moments, too far to walk, and a lesson in history…
    In the eighth month of chasing
    Ole’ forrest gave to me
    Eight months of memories, seven reams of notes, six scribbled journals, Five brand new muscles….
    Four giant blisters, three aha moments, too far to walk, and a lesson in history ..
    In the ninth month of chasing
    Ole’ forrest gave to me
    Nine trips behind me, eight months of memories, seven reams of notes, six scribbled journals, Five brand new muscles….
    Four giant blisters, three aha moments, too far to walk, and a lesson in history…
    In the tenth month of chasing
    Ole’ forrest gave to me
    Ten…I’ve yet to see…
    Nine trips behind me, eight months of memories, seven reams of notes, six scribbled journals, Five brand new muscles….
    …four giant blisters, three aha moments, too far to walk, AND A LESSON IN HISTORY!!!

  166. The Game Plan In Question

    It escapes me where to start my trek
    Is it miles or paces, what the heck?

    From here to there to where I seek
    A quest for trove unknown, unique.

    Water halting is on my mind
    Am I warm? What will I find?

    Canyons down, they plague my sleep
    Be they wide or be they steep.

    The Southwest is full of houses brown,
    A gazillion of them all around.

    Waterfalls and boulders high,
    I search until the moon draws nigh.

    The blaze I know, it’s easy to see.
    It’s the Fire Forrest started inside of me.

    What will it take to end my quest?
    I can think of nothing, I’ll give it my best.

  167. I do not fear going in there alone

    And it’s not for treasure of gold,

    As I reveal what I give to own,

    And with love to see and behold.

    Begin by believing I have grown,

    And I will help carry the load.

    Not for me, but for you I will go.

    Don’t be put low I will come home,

    For there is a special place,

    To draw nigh and never goodbye;

    The only battle upon our creek,

    Just rod, fish, and fly.

    Wise or foolish I am amazed,

    My quest for me, to never cease,

    Gaze, marvel, and tarry in peace.

    • Nearindie

      Beautiful and selfless. It appears you found that half of talent you wished for,,,,times 2 🙂

    • Never to far to walk

      when from the chest love is given.

      A days walk, a knights journey,

      to where the waters end begins.

      Shoulders wide, shoulders strong,

      with burden heavy and burden light,

      Ash to ash and dust to dust.

      Wise Word is spoken , peace ascended,

      to home my friend, for the quest is ended.

      • “Where is home?”, I often ponder,

        Is it right here…. or over yonder?

        Instead of letting doubt pick you apart,

        Simply ask yourself, “Where is my heart?”.

  168. The blog~~

    Oh my,
    I can’t get it though I try
    A clue to decipher a clue
    But which one is true?
    A decoy or a lure
    Are those thoughts pure,
    Or meant for them self
    Thinking of wealth?
    Is it a lead
    Or a word to mis feed?
    How come I feel
    Like a fish on a reel
    My head is spinning
    I thought I was winning
    How does he know it’s still there
    As only FF is aware
    Does he have a drone
    Controlled from his throne
    Until now it’s been a search
    F squared watching from his perch
    For how many years
    and thousands of tears
    Me thinks now the race is on
    Do hurry before it’s all gone!

  169. It’s that time of year again. This one’s for you, Seeker! ya know, for old times sake!

    Twas the weeks before Christmas, when all through the mountains
    All warm waters had halted, even those in bronze fountains.
    The deep canyons down yonder were blanketed with snow,
    Telling all the brave searchers that they should not go.

    The ice covered roads were treacherous and slick,
    And searching in winter would surely make one sick.
    So the blogs are where searchers finally settled down,
    Continuing endless debate as to the nature of Brown.

    At first, thoughtful and pleasant was generally the tone,
    But as time wore on, “nice” became disparaging groans.
    A few of the Newbies thought they had it all figured out,
    But the search-weary veterans responded with doubt.

    There are those who find hints in Fenn’s every word
    Claiming, “Look! Can’t you see?” to keep the pot stirred.
    But their arguments have fallen upon stubborn deaf ears,
    It seemed as though many didn’t come there to hear.

    We were told to be wise, to hear and listen good,
    Perhaps other posters’ ideas were just misunderstood.
    Not meant as a threat, a challenge, or a slight,
    Just a different opinion with no intent to incite.

    See, the treasure sits waiting and doesn’t really care,
    What clever solution will lead searchers there.
    We all can be right in our own little way,
    “It’s the hunt not the quarry” as Forrest did say.

    So get back to the poem, the books, and the map,
    And let’s try to get along without all of the crap.
    ‘Cause someone’s getting close, we all know it’s true,
    Within five-hundred feet! And maybe it was you!

    So retrace your steps, and don’t forget to draw nigh,
    You’re on the wrong path if there’s no water high.
    And no need for an oar up your paddle-less creek,
    Just be bold and brave and most certainly not meek.

    You can go in alone on your wonderful chase,
    Or bring the kids, ‘cause it’s no dangerous place.
    There’ll be some heavy loads, whatever that means,
    And it would certainly be wise to bring a canteen.

    A flashlight is needed if your “in there” is a cave,
    And please don’t dig up any old Indian graves.
    Leave the outhouses alone, or any structure for that matter,
    And no sense climbing down an ancient kiva’s long ladder.

    If your quest’s long duration requires that you eat,
    Use a rock for a table, and a log for a seat.
    Pimento and cheese sandwichs we’ve been told are quite good,
    Or three to four Baby Ruths if you’ll be lost in the wood.

    Climbing up and down mountains can make you rather tired,
    But that last view of the blaze should leave you inspired.
    All that time spent researching and skimming Google Earth,
    Has led to this site and could improve your net worth.

    You strain and you stretch, but just out of reach is the chest,
    Then suddenly! your finger touches it, and you feel very blessed.
    Then with a gasp and a jolt, you quickly open your eyes,
    And alas, another Monday, and slowly you rise…..

    • Yes, Jason Excellent!!! Makes me wish I could write poetry I am really starting to enjoy it… But, I don’t have a poetry bone in me so I guess I will just have to enjoy everybody else’s amazing work!

  170. Thanks, Everyone!

    Last year around this time, I was inspired by Seeker to write that poem……… I changed some of the lines to make it more current……..

    I’m glad you enjoyed it!

  171. Voyager upon life’s sea,
    To yourself be true,
    And where’er your lot may be
    Paddle your own canoe.
    Never, though the winds may rave,
    Falter nor look back;
    But upon the darkest wave
    Leave a shinning track.

    Nobly dare the wildest storm,
    Stem the hardest gale;
    Brave of heart and strong of arm,
    You will never fail.
    When the world is cold and dark,
    Keep an aim in view,
    And toward the beacon mark
    Paddle your own canoe.

    Every wave that bears you on
    To the silent shore,
    From its sunny source has gone
    To return no more.
    Then let not an hour’s delay
    Cheat you of your due;
    But, while it is called today,
    Paddle your own canoe.

    If your birth denied you wealth,
    loftly state and power;
    Honest fame and hardy health
    Are a better dower.
    But if these will not suffice,
    Golden gain pursue;
    And, to win the glittering prize,
    Paddle your own canoe.

    Would you wrest the wreath of fame
    From the hand of fate?
    Would you write a deathless name
    With the good and the great?
    Would you bless your fellow-men?
    Heart and soul inbue
    With the holy task, and then
    Paddle your own canoe.

    Would you crush the tyrant wrong,
    In the world’s free fight?
    With a spirit brave and strong,
    Battle for the right;
    And to break the chains that bind
    The many to the few,
    To enfranchise slavish mind-
    Paddle your own canoe,

    Nothing great is lightly won;
    Nothing won is lost;
    Every good deed is nobly done,
    Will repay the cost.
    Leave to Heaven, in humble trust,
    All you will do;
    But if you succeed, you must
    Paddle your own canoe.
    Sarah T. Bolton

    • Jamie,

      Thanks for posting. It brought back memories of my great uncle who would quote parts of that poem.

    • Fantastic…
      May I …

      As I gaze into that Dark Place
      Why Do I see, you looking Back at me?

      As you gaze your eye’s Shown onto me,
      What is it you see, Your Son a Man Complete?
      Or a space a void of what used to be ?

      I see , I see , you still looking at me ,
      But Dad, what do you see,
      A boy of 8 swinging at a tee,
      Who cut the grass while you smile at me.

      Dad what do you see,
      When you thought me to fish
      And put your arm around me,

      But Dad , what do you see,
      Your son at 17 trying to fill your feet?

      Dad , Dad what do you see ?
      I’m a man now , can’t you see?

      Why Dad do you stair at me
      I’m of 38 when you left me.
      But Dad I love you can’t you see,
      No,I love you Please!

      Dad I see why you are looking at me ,
      Cause you loved me , More then I could see,
      And makes me now even fall to my knee,
      As I put your sandals on to feel your feet.

      Dad! To tell you I love you and now I see
      I have always been the Man you wanted me to be.
      I miss you Daddy , I see
      I was with you till the End, just like you asked me.
      To now fill the sandals that you left me , and feel your feet ,
      Reminds me How much you Really Loved me .
      I miss you Dad, From ME.

      In loving Memory Of Sgt. John Dantuono 1950-2010
      My Best Friend
      By , Mike or Mr.D

  172. Whose woods these are I think I know.
    His house is in the village, though;
    He will not see me stopping here
    To watch his woods fill up with snow.
    My little horse must think it queer
    To stop without a farmhouse near
    Between the woods and frozen lake
    The darkest evening of the year.

    He gives his harness bells a shake
    To ask if there is some mistake.
    The only other sound’s the sweep
    Of easy wind and downy flake.
    The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
    But I have promises to keep,
    And miles to go before I sleep,
    And miles to go before I sleep.

    Robert Frost

  173. Saturday mornin math in my head
    Even before I got out of my bed
    What’s the square root of Forrest Fenn
    Still can’t make 4+4 add up to 10
    Took 15 years to perfect the words
    Why do I awaken before the birds
    How long since his diagnosis
    Me thinks the chest is beneath our noses
    Lynn D
    Posted November 22, 2014 at 6:16 am on the 9 clues

  174. The Rolling English Road

    Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,
    The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road.
    A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire,
    And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire;
    A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread
    The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head.

    I knew no harm of Bonaparte and plenty of the Squire,
    And for to fight the Frenchman I did not much desire;
    But I did bash their baggonets because they came arrayed
    To straighten out the crooked road an English drunkard made,
    Where you and I went down the lane with ale-mugs in our hands,
    The night we went to Glastonbury by way of Goodwin Sands.

    His sins they were forgiven him; or why do flowers run
    Behind him; and the hedges all strengthening in the sun?
    The wild thing went from left to right and knew not which was which,
    But the wild rose was above him when they found him in the ditch.
    God pardon us, nor harden us; we did not see so clear
    The night we went to Bannockburn by way of Brighton Pier.

    My friends, we will not go again or ape an ancient rage,
    Or stretch the folly of our youth to be the shame of age,
    But walk with clearer eyes and ears this path that wandereth,
    And see undrugged in evening light the decent inn of death;
    For there is good news yet to hear and fine things to be seen,
    Before we go to Paradise by way of Kensal Green.

  175. I thought of this poem between patients at work. Not exactly literally chase related, but an insight to some of those who truly love the thrill of the chase (and are a little weird, lol).

    I may seem quiet, even naive
    Too afraid to hold my ground;
    But looks and demeanor deceive,
    For I’ll never give up, never back down.

    Some say girls aren’t strong, and easy to scare;
    Incapable of velocity
    But through the years, one thing I’ve learned–
    Gender doesn’t determine ferocity.

    It may be hard to look you in the eye,
    But it’s not a result of dishonesty–
    In fact, I find it hard to lie–not sure why;
    It may be a sense of over-modesty.

    In many ways, I see the Earth as a child,
    Filled with beauty, wonder, idyllic nobility–
    In other ways, the world I know is far from mild;
    Rage in the face of violent hostility.

    Some think I don’t quite fit in with society,
    But I’m comfortable in my imperfect skin–
    If you know me, you might just “get” me,
    And together, I’m sure we’ll share a grin.

    So if it seems I’m lonely, or too far astray,
    Dare to come a little nearer–
    You may see the world in a whole new way,
    And find a friend in the mirror.

  176. Feeling in the spirit and love these sentiments….

    Don’t get so busy that you miss
    Giving just a little kiss
    To the ones you love

    Don’t even wait a little while
    To give them just a little smile
    A little is enough

    How many people are crying
    People are dying?
    How many people are asking for love?

    So, don’t save it all for Christmas day
    Find a way to give a little love everyday

    Don’t save it all for Christmas day
    Find your way ’cause holidays have come and gone
    But love lives on if you give on love

    How could you wait another minute?
    A hug is warmer when you’re in it
    And baby that’s a fact

    And saying “I love you” is always better
    Seasons, reasons, they don’t matter
    So don’t hold back

    How many people in this world
    So needful in this world?
    How many people are praying for love?

    So, don’t save it all for Christmas day
    Find a way to give a little love everyday

    Don’t save it all for Christmas day
    Find your way ’cause holidays have come and gone
    But love lives on if you give on love

    Let all the children know
    Everywhere that they go
    And their whole life long
    Let them know love

    Don’t save it all for Christmas day
    Find your way to give a little love everyday

    Don’t save it all for Christmas day
    Find your way, everyone, everyone

    Don’t save it all for Christmas day
    Find your way ’cause holidays have come and gone
    But love lives on if you give on love


  177. To my fellow writers, poets
    and know its
    and hunter peers
    of clues to detect
    which solve is correct
    and mathematicians
    what am I missin??
    And so…Merry Christmas to all alike
    as we dream of that hike

  178. This is a poem I received in the mail a few months ago and now is a perfect time to share it:

    ‘Twas the night before Christmas, he lived alone, in a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
    I had come down the chimney with presents to give, and to see who in this home did live.
    I looked all about, a strange sight I did see, no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
    No stocking by mantle, just boots filed with sand, and on the wall pictures of far distant lands.
    With medals and badges, awards of all kinds, a sobering thought came to mind.
    For this house was different, so dark and so dreary, the home of a soldier, now I could see clearly.
    The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone, curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.
    The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder, not how I pictured a United States soldier.
    Was this the hero of whom I’d just read?
    Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?
    I realized the families that I saw that night, owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.
    Soon round the world, the children would play, and grown ups would celebrate a bright Christmas Day.
    They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year, because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.
    I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone, on a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.
    The very thought brought a tear to my eye, I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
    The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice, ” Santa don’t cry, this life is my choice;
    I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more, my life is my God, my country, my corps.”
    The soldier rolled over and soon drifted to sleep, I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.
    I kept watch for hours, so silent and still, and we both shivered from the cold evening’s chill.
    I didn’t want to leave on that cold, dark, night, this guardian of honor so willing to fight.
    Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure, whispered, “Carry on Santa, it’s Christmas Day, all is secure.”
    One look at my watch, and I knew he was right.
    “Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night.”

    I thought it was a beautiful poem I wanted to share it.
    May Forrest and his family and to all the searchers , have a very very Blessed Merry Christmas:) !!!!!!!

  179. Thank u Mindy I figured you would read it first. 🙂 I thought it was a lovely poem. Merry Christmas
    On my way to vacuum 🙂

  180. The Cards are all shuffled , my ante is out,

    I’m ready to play now, slowly looking about.

    Hole cards are dealt, by the dealer with grin,

    Each player hoping for this pot to win.

    I lift up two corners, to take me a peek,

    Keeping a straight face, Two Aces I seek.

    While sliding my cards , few inches ahead,

    How will I play these?, bounce in my head.

    The players all bet , and I do the same,

    Not raising a penny, not showing my fame.

    The flop cards are down, another ace that I seek,

    This face is getting harder and harder to keep.

    The bets grow larger, on this time around,

    playing the same , as I did the first round.

    I see a straight forming , in the cards as they sit,

    The ” turn ” card is over , didn’t help me a bit.

    Each player passes , when its their turn to play,

    Now it’s my turn, I’m bluffing away.

    I slide in most of my chips, as I try,

    Three others , they call me, no blink of an eye.

    The ” River ” card lands , And can you believe ?

    The last of four aces , a sigh of relief.

    Feeling much better, the bets all go round.

    One player ” folds ” , the others seem sound.

    I push ” All in ” , The others they ” call ” ,

    It’s time to show the cards of us all.

    The tension is over, My face I can show,

    smiling and laughing , it now has a glow.

    I show them my cards, to reveal I have won,

    4 aces the shine as bight as the sun.

    wiping the sweat from my brow cause I’m hot,

    Grinning real big , while dragging the ” Pot ” .

    ” POKER FACE ”

    Happy New Year everyone !

    • Great poem, X! What a Thrill that would be…4 Aces. What are the odds?
      In fact, I haven’t checked on this page for a while. I just saw X posted so I came to check it out. It’s like Christmas morning! Or a brand New Year! I saw great, new poems from Mindy and Lynn and Amy. It’s been a long time. It’s like I haven’t read anything from you guys since last year. Great poetry, by the way.

    • X on……You sound like you play poker pretty good …Although… Four aces in this game with a joker in play is only a stay in hand . A straight flush or royal straight flush or even the last but least when there’s a joker in play….Five of a kind… Good luck with bluffing. Some people don’t bluff…IMO…..Good luck ….Chase onn…….

  181. Great poem “x” You sound like you really know how to play. A Happy New Year to you and to everyone else on here as well!

  182. Ride the tide of give and take.Take time to give and take time to enjoy what you are blessed with. Always be patient some things are more special when they are scarce. Like a sunny day in your life after a cloudy spell.. Hoping 2015 is a bright year for everyone. 🙂

    • Very nice , Pieces of 15 , the words you speak are true , Dreams and hopes were scarce for a lot of people… Many have walked the path during cloudy days, and now have hopes and dreams of a brighter day…… Thank You Forrest…


      “The look of optimism within the eyes of a pessimist “

  183. By the river I stand:
    Waves amass together
    Will ease;
    Along the river banks sand
    With little ripples
    As they please.

    How fascinating these
    Waves really tease!
    Bestowing upon me a quiet
    Sense of peace.
    As the tension in my
    Head release.

    Watching with a shiver,
    For, I am an avaid believer.
    More than life it delivers.

    The feeling is mutual.
    The river signifies
    Something spritual;
    Right down below it is

    Life form continues to
    Mature and grow.
    And whilst the river flows.
    Who knows
    That life holds for us tomorrow.

    { 12/10/2006 }

    Istiqur Rahman

    The Treasure has been located in Southwestern Colorado near the confluence of the Delores and San Miguel River. Proof has been provided, and there is no doubt. The chase for the trove is over. I am full of emotions right now, and not really sure how I feel about this. Oh, and just to clarify, please read the lines further down on this entry….

    The PINK TUTU TREASURE has been found by Kevin….Please join me in congratulating him!!

    • LOL for one second I thought WHAT Forrest’s Chest found?? In CO.???? then I saw the rest 😛

      Grats Kevin!

    • That is actually a good site. I just noticed that the club sandwich mine is right above the confluence of the Dolores and San Miquel rivers. Remember FF recommended that we bring a sandwich? Well, there it is. So is the Hanging Flume of Dolores Canyon. Heavy loads Water high.
      Put on your pink tutu and dance.

      • And just past the Club Sandwich mine heading north along the rim is the North Star – a popular marvel gay.

        I really like exploring in that area and in the Dolores river canyon below Dove Creek.

  185. Wow, writing a poem to the tune of The Raven isn’t easy, but here is my woeful attempt…

    As I sat in twilight dreaming, sky aflame, my soul believing,
    In poetic content of a heroic book I’ve read, re-read, and now hold dear–
    While I mused, the first star glinted, and suddenly it seemed a hushed voice hinted,
    As if some small creature, had come quietly singing, singing in my waiting ear.
    “Dang mosquito,” I grumbled, “buzzing, nagging, in my ear—
    Only this and naught to fear.”

    The sweet breath of evening breeze, belied the dark, encroaching freeze–
    Each magenta-washed reed danced for my awestruck eyes alone.
    I reached to grab each fleeting cloud;—whispering the name of God aloud–
    While stars, ever watchful in cobalt sky– murmured secrets in ringing tone.
    Drawing deep a child’s purity, I wished to discern the melodic liturgy, of an ivory bird from heav’n flown.
    Straining to hear well, one lonely tear fell, scantly comprehending the cryptic wind she’d blown.

    And the whispers, whirling, swirling, in both breathing wind and river bend
    Thrilled me—spilled me into a chase of secrets I’d deeply hidden within my core;
    Was Mirerva whispering, ivory lips a glistening, with the wine of warm waters she’d sipped before?
    Or just a trickster phantom seeking to force me prostate on the floor?
    Should I entertain it, or should I wait for something more?

    Confusion diluted my staunch resolve, my confidence just as quick to dissolve
    As I debated whether to chance conversation with such sage deity.
    Turning to the blinding blaze of wisdom, I refused to be a willing victim
    Of simple coincidental happenstance or careless spontaneity–
    Then mighty thunder, like passion torn asunder, lit her eyes as they met mine–
    Then profound peace, so eternal, comforting, maternal, left on my heart a sign–
    I blinked…and all was gone… but for a lingering, softly sighing, ticking of time…

  186. The anniversary of my brother’s passing is swiftly approaching. He is still missed and I thought of him when I read the following.


    Stars at night they twinkle
    Afar and burning bright
    Each a source of wonder
    Standing bright amidst the night
    We pay them small attention
    For they are always there
    We go about our business
    With but a single care
    But then there are the comets
    Bright and racing past
    Everyone takes notice
    Even if they do not last
    It’s what people remember
    The dramatic burning light
    That stands out on the landscape
    And brightens up the night

    Miss you bro.

    • Thanks for posting that sweet poem. It touches me the same. My brother passed last April. It’s hard to miss people but it happens, unfortunately. We just have to manage somehow and poetry is a great healer. My thoughts and prayers are with you pl.

      • pl289 , that was a beautiful tribute to your brother , I have lost close and dear friends recently too…. just know that your brother is looking down on you , though he is gone , He is still here…… you will meet again…. take care

  187. Your brother obviously lived in such a way that you are glad he did. May great memories of him fill your mind and heart.

  188. I love everything A.A. Milne before Disney got his hands on Winnie Ther Pooh.

    So — here I am in the dark alone,

    There’s nobody here to see;
    I think to myself,
    I play to myself
    And nobody knows what I say to myself;
    Here I am in the dark alone,
    What is it going to be?
    I can think whatever I like to think,
    I can play whatever I like to play,
    I can laugh whatever I like to laugh,
    There’s nobody here but me.

    I’m talking to a rabbit …
    I’m talking to the sun …
    I think I am a hundred
    I’m one.
    I’m lying in a forest …
    I’m lying in a cave …
    I’m talking to a Dragon …
    I’m BRAVE.
    I’m lying on my left side …
    I’m lying on my right …
    I’ll play a lot tomorrow …
    I’ll think a lot tomorrow …
    I’ll laugh …
    a lot …
    tomorrow …
    (Heigh-ho !)


    • Love it Mindy!!! I hope you plan to keep writing poetry.. you are very good at it. I have tried but it just doesn’t seem to be my cup of tea.

  189. Thanks Mindy =)
    A.A. Milne had me and this chase in mind when he penned…”When you are a Bear of Very Little Brain, and you Think of Things, you find sometimes that a Thing which seemed very Thingish inside you is quite different when it gets out into the open and has other people looking at it.”

    Lately, I find myself talking to myself, saying why did you say that out loud? I may be losing the rest of my marbles..oooo..that I once had in my meager collection.

  190. Some of you can relate, I’m sure…:)

    Thirty Minutes of Asperger’s/ADHD Fueled Research

    So, let’s pull out my notes–
    Dad gum and dang nabbit–
    I forgot to do the laundry,
    And that’s becoming a habit.

    Clothes started, I return
    To the elusive Fenn gold,
    Mines, art, and Mexico,
    Both the New and the Old.

    Then for no reason I think
    Of Battlestar, beets, and bears,
    And laughing for a minute,
    I forget all my cares.

    But then I hear a whisper–
    Which allows no defiance
    And compels me to check YouTube,
    For a new ASAP Science.

    John Green, Jimmy Fallon, and Kimmel
    No stop to take a breather,
    But you’ll be happy to know,
    I can’t stand Onision either.

    Then I return to the search–
    Wild rivers, creeks and streams,
    Which remind me of some horses
    I’ve had in my dreams.

    So I consult the dream dictionary,
    And my mind starts to lean
    Toward symbols in history,
    And what they all mean.

    Which leads me to maps,
    Where my eye draws me South–
    Then I think of F’s face,
    And his Photoshopped mouth.

    Which then makes me screenshot,
    Every Fenn photo I find,
    Increasing magnification
    As though I was blind.

    Twenty photos later,
    And my mind is awhirl,
    I glance out the window and–
    Oh look! A Squirrel!

    Which makes my mind fly
    Right back to the chase,
    And the story of McNutt,
    Which I cannot erase.

    Then the Air Force is brought
    To the fore of my brain,
    And I think of our heroes
    Both living and slain.

    But before I can shed
    An ounce of a tear–
    The buzz of the washer
    Annoys my left ear.

    I try to slow down,
    but my mind goes so fast–
    In the blink of an eye,
    Thirty minutes have passed.

      • Yes, she does doen’t she… Mindy, you are forever amazing me with you ability to write poetry!!! And thank you for reminding me about the laundry…:)

        • Thank you, and you’re welcome, Spallies.
          Laundry is the worst.
          But really, a day without love and laughter and poetry is the worst.
          Unless you count scrubbing your son’s toilet, then that is the worst. Lol. 🙂

          • That was a great poem, Mindy. I really liked it…oh, LOOK!…a chipmunk!…on crank! 🙂

            A mother’s work never ends. Regarding your son’s toilet, I bet you never guessed you’d be called to the stand as an expert witness…i.e. Crap Splatter Expert. 🙂

            I think all mothers should be given Honorary Doctorate degrees…because what they (you) do is so much more valuable to society than the deeds of the majority of pompous idiots with “real” degrees. Maybe one day the world will pay more attention to things that matter.

          • Thanks, JC. I have a couple of real degrees too, but I definitely would value a degree in Parenting with a minor in Housekeeping! 🙂

            A degree in Elderly Mom. Caretaking would also be useful right about now (as I sit in a jammed packed waiting room at her pulmonologist while she complains nonstop). 🙂

      • Thank you…maybe more curious than brilliant. There are just too many things to know, and like Calvin (Hobbes best friend) says, “The Days are Just Packed.” 🙂

      • I agree totally jdiggins,,,,

        Outstanding poetry Mindy. You seem to take the thoughts right out of my brain 🙂 So fun to read.

  191. I must admit, Mindy, you don’t seem to be pompous at all. 🙂 I carefully worded that comment about “pompous idiots” (…because I think I’ve learned a thing or two from Forrest…) to not include all people with degrees…just the pompous ones. Of course, those who instantly get offended are probably the pompous ones! LOL! It’s a rig!


  192. Great great grandpa was a Texas Ranger when he was 16 years old, while in the Rangers it is indicated that he wrote a song, titled Texas Ranger, it was written in 1873. It is sung now by Michael Martin Murphy. In Sept. of 1876 he joined the U.S. Army under the name James McMahon. {Believed to be because of his age} He signed up for the 7th Calvary after the Little Bighorn and spent the winter of 1876 with the Army looking for Sitting Bull. In March of 1878 he was given a medical discharge.

  193. A poem written by my great great grandfather age 16 (1873). My grandfather would recite it to us kids growing up to keep the poem alive in the family.


    Come, all you Texas rangers, wherever you may be,
    I’ll tell you of some troubles that happened unto me.
    My name is nothing extra, so it I will not tell,
    And here’s to all you rangers, I am sure I wish you well.

    It was at the age of sixteen that I joined the jolly band,
    We marched from San Antonio to the Rio Grande.
    Our captain he informed us, perhaps he thought it right,
    “Before we reach the station, boys, you’ll surely have to fight.”

    And when the bugle sounded our captain gave command,
    “To arms, to arms,” he shouted, “and by your horses stand.”
    I saw the smoke ascending, it seems to reach the sky;
    The first thought that stuck me, my time had come to die.

    I saw the Indians coming, I heard then give the yell,
    My feeling at that moment, no tongue could ever tell.
    I saw the glittering lances, their arrows round me flew,
    And all my strength it left me and all my courage too.

    We fought full nine hours before the stiff was over,
    The like of dead and wounded I never saw before.
    And when the sun was rising and the Indians they had fled,
    We loaded up our rifles and counted up our dead.

    And all of us were wounded, our noble captain slain,
    And the sun was shining sadly across the bloody plain.
    Sixteen as brave ranger as ever roamed the West,
    Were buried be their comrades with arrows in their breast.

    • All I can say is, “Wow.” Your great great grandfather was talented. This poem is really good, and also really sad.
      My son is 13 years old. Your g-g grandpa was just three years older and went to war.
      I cannot even begin to imagine the terror he (and his momma) felt at being thrust into such brutality and death.
      It makes me grateful for the relative safety we live in (although I’m afraid of the current threat of ISIS).
      As a mom, I don’t want my son to go to war.
      Thanks for the poem, 23. I’m in awe.

      I was going to post a really silly poem, but I don’t think it’s appropriate after reading yours. Mine can wait.

    • Amazing Poem and song 23…. That’s really cool family history and tale to have… I like you new Avatar…:) New theme for the New Year?

  194. we shall not cease from exploration…

    I saw you on the shelf, a gift to my pearl from an anniversary past

    and the end of all our exploring…

    I read you back in junior high, I gave you another look

    will be to arrive where we started…

    then it was adventure, now it is something else

    and know the place for the first time…

  195. It’s Saturday night, and I’m bored. How pathetic is that? Lol.
    Anyway, here’s a poem that I wrote for Mr. Fenn. It’s sort of the antithesis of Phantom’s Shadow poem. Hope you all get a little smile from it.
    It’s set to the story of Green Eggs and Ham. 🙂

    The Words You Pen

    Forrest Fenn. Forrest Fenn. Forrest Fenn!

    That Forrest Fenn! That Forrest Fenn! He drives me nuts, that Forrest Fenn!

    Do you hear the words I pen?

    I DO NOT hear them, Forrest Fenn.
    I DO NOT hear the words you pen.

    Can you hear them there or where?

    I can not hear them there or where.
    I can not hear them ANYWHERE.
    I do not hear the words you pen.
    I do not hear them, Forrest Fenn.

    Can you hear them in the rain?
    Can you hear them on a train?

    I can not hear them in the rain.
    I can not hear them on a train.
    I can not hear them there or where.
    I do not hear them ANYWHERE.
    I do not hear the words you pen.
    You drive me crazy, Forrest Fenn!

    Can you hear them in the light?
    Would you hear them best at night?

    Not in light. Not at night.
    Not in the rain. Not on a train.
    I can not hear them there or where.
    I can not hear them ANYWHERE.
    I do not hear the words you pen.
    You drive me batty, Forrest Fenn!

    Can you? Do you? Near or far?
    Hear them! Hear them! HEAR THEY ARE.

    I can not, do not, near or far.

    You CAN hear them. You will see.
    You might hear them in a tree!

    I can not, do not, in a tree.
    Not light, not night. Can’t YOU see?
    I can not hear them, near or far.
    I can not hear them, no matter where they are!
    I can not hear them there or where.
    I can not hear them ANYWHERE.
    I CAN NOT hear them, Forrest Fenn.
    You are the enemy, Forrest Fenn!

    A fish! A fish! A FISH! A FISH!
    Can you hear them as I fish?

    NO fish! NO trees!
    I CAN’T hear what your pen sees!
    I can not hear them near or far.
    I can not hear them, no matter how loud they are.
    I can not hear them there or where.
    I can not hear them anywhere.
    I do not hear the words you pen.
    I’m going loony, Forrest Fenn!

    Hey! In the sun? In the noonday sun?
    Can’t you hear them just for fun?

    I can not hear them in the sun for fun.

    You can not hear the words I pen?

    I do not hear them, Forrest Fenn.

    You do not hear them. So you say.
    Close your eyes. And you may.
    Just close your eyes, and you may, I say.

    Forrest! If I close my weary eyes,
    Will you fly for wiser skies?

    (… and she closes her eyes …)

    SAY! I hear them, Forrest Fenn!
    I DO! I hear the words you pen!
    And now I hear them in the sun,
    And I hear them just for fun.
    AND I can hear them as you fish!
    I can hear as much as I wish!
    And in the light! And at night!
    They are so loud! You were right!
    I do hear them in the trees,
    I even hear them in the breeze.
    I hear them near, I hear them far,
    I hear them no matter where I are.
    AND I hear them there and where,
    Problem is, I hear them EVERYWHERE!

    But I do like the words you pen.
    I do so like them, Forrest Fenn!
    And so I thank you, at the end,
    Thank you, Forrest Fenn, my friend.

  196. LOL Mindy. My honest opinion, you need a good man to come along and take away that ingenious poetic time you seem to allot for yourself 😛

    • Will, while that is certainly true, I can’t put Liam Hemsworth’s body, Jim Halpert’s height and romantic, chivalric nature, Jake Gyllenhaal’s smile, Tony Romo’s boyish looks and athleticism, and Jimmy Kimmel’s sense of humor into a blender and have it emerge as the perfect Man Cake. 🙂

  197. this chase has consumed me for nearly a year
    there’s been plenty of laughter and hardly a tear
    I read
    I study
    I read some more
    I try to piece it together
    and it’s become quite the chore
    my thought patterns have changed
    in a way I cannot explain
    neural pathways rearranged this chase is all but mundane
    I think there are voices in my head
    they speak to me all day
    and at night in my bed
    I cannot shut them out
    but don’t call me crazy
    I’m just another seeker
    in a giant field of daisy
    I’m breathing it all in
    and I’m wearing a toothy grin!

  198. A treasure must be found of the soul,
    for the soul, and will include everything:
    perfumes, sounds, colors,
    thoughts grappling with feelings
    Hear it out in spring leaf orchards,
    in the million foliaged sweet
    wafted night of sighs, songs, hushes
    Up and down the canyon, white and brown,
    deep, lovely, dangerous breathing, throbbing,
    a whistle, a faint yell, the flow of wind and water.
    On the river, the wild geese, ducks
    in the sand and sparkle,
    the lap and purl on the shore,
    the river’s lips murmuring kisses.

    Born between the hill and the river,
    it took its voice from the brave,
    and like the timber,
    it steeped itself in the cold.
    Tonight the stars’ll be out,
    and don’t you know that God is down here
    looking for the light of your eyes
    and the love in your heart
    Let the stars light up tonight.
    The sun is done.

    • That’s beautiful, Michael. I’m sure you’re aware how cool your name is. Archangel Michael is Chief of the Angels. Of course, there are those who think I just got two completely different teams of two completely different sports mixed up…and I’m a big dummy. And you want to know something? They’re right! 🙂

      • …but in spite of the fact that I’m a dummy sometimes, you and your name are both very admirable.

  199. JC
    Lol and I’m on your tail , only if u are a searcher of Colorado 🙂
    Thanks your awesome too 🙂

  200. My heart beats in state of torpor ,

    Awaiting the warmth of longer days.

    Remembering times that are no more,

    Through this gentle but foggy haze.

    The farther the distance from now back to then,

    My memory softens like the evenings light .

    Trying to remember ” the whats and the whens ”

    Just keeping it straight , has been a tough fight.

    Before I go and my memory’s no more,

    Take my hand while I gaze in your eyes.

    Our life together , with the one I adore,

    God , what have I done to deserve such a prize ?

    Go on and enjoy the things that you love,

    As I fade into this deep abyss.

    I’ll be watching you from my home up above ,

    Sweet dreams , good night I leave with a kiss.

    I dedicate this to all who have lost loved ones , Remember just because they are

    not here , doesn’t mean they are not watching………. God Bless

  201. May God bless you and yours Hank. Your poem resonates with me tonight as I really miss one I don’t see or hear but know watches me from above like an angel. My memory never fades for those I truly love because the heart remembers when the mind slips.

    • I’m glad it touched you lia , seems the older we get the more loved ones we lose. you will meet your loved one again lia and yes they are watching over you….. I just needed to vent some, thanks for listening…. God Bless and good luck in the chase.

    • It makes you wonder if this guy had the audacity to put words about Forrest into a public post without his permission, or if Forrest wrote that for him to post.

  202. For all those fighting tempests of disease, lost loved ones, prodigal children, etc.

    There is what is called the “cushion of the sea.” Down beneath the surface that is stirred by tempest winds and agitated by storms a part of the sea that is so deep it is never stirred. The peace of God is that internal calm which like the cusion of the sea, lies far too deep to be reached by external trouble. (paraphrased -A.T. Pierson)

    “And the peace of God, which transcends all our powers of thought, will be a garrison to guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesue.” (Phil 4:7)

    When winds are raging o’er the upper ocean,
    And billows wild contend with angry roar,
    ‘Tis said, far down beneath the wild commotion,
    That Peaceful stillness reigneth evermore.

    Far, far beneath, the noise of the tempest dieth,
    And silver waves chime ever peacefully,
    And no rude storm, how fierce soe’er it flieth,
    Distrubs the Sabbath of that deeper sea.

    So to the heart that knows Thy love, O Purest,
    There is a temple sacred evermore,
    And all the babble of life’s angry voices
    Dies in hushed silence at its peaceful door.

    Far, far away the roar of passion dieth,
    and loving thoughts rise calm and peacefully,
    And no rude storm, how fierce soe’ev it flieth,
    Disturbs the south that dwells, O Lord, in Thee.

    – Harriet Beechere Stowe

    • Oops, should be:
      “…shall guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus”
      “disturbs the Soul that dwells in the Lord.”

      • …just wanted to recommend the phenomenal Lewis and Clark tale from S. Ambrose called “Undaunted Courage”.
        Btw, how ’bout some explanation ( for us novice bloggers ) as to how people are suppose to leave a comment on your thingy.

        • I’m trying to fix that. I think if you click on the blue “comments” it will reload the page and a box will appear at the bottom that you can write in. I’m going to try something different though. Please try to comment so I know it’s working. Lol

      • Mindy, you’re off to a blazing start with your blog! Always positive and fun, keep it up and all will listen good.

          • Hi Mindy,

            I saw your comment and I tried to comment as well under my WordPress account but there appears to be a problem… I really liked your post about Lewis and Clark and the cartoon!!!!

          • For some reason, WordPress has a problem with the comments. However, you can post anonymously, then just put your wordpress name at the end so I’ll know who you are. 🙂

    • Amy, thanks but more like Awesom<. (less than awesome version.) How are you today, nice weather in east Texas?

  203. 42

    Doing well today, the weather is ok a little cold here. But this weekend will be nice. I don’t know how people live in snowy areas. I would freeze. 🙂

    Hope u are doing well.

  204. Hi guys, I’ve been lurking here for as long as I’ve been searching for the treasure, which is just over a few months. I put together what I thought was a pretty good armchair solve based in part on a few of Spallies observations within the first few days of my search. You may not believe it, but I read about Forrest’s treasure and thought the fervor had subsided completely because I stumbled across an inactive blog dated back to 2013. I think thats what prompted me to write about it – I thought a man goes out of his way to do this for folks and no one seemed to appreciate it. I did, and wrote this sonnet for Forrest:

    Fenn’s Sonnet

    Forrest Fenn feign name of pen?
    Great gift not for now, but for he who knows time –
    With little big man lit eyes and heart of like mind?
    Methinks he knows then when Fate’s when’s now then when when’s when.
    Now thrills now he must feel then now then.
    A genius’ passion then now like game master, Haim
    Lights our eyes too when eyes lit then we see now then lit divine.
    Guidestones to gold for he who knows now what lights eyes then lit from within.

    With lasting fame from what faith holds Fate to favor these men –
    From temple, of valley, stone, wood, mineral and red?
    Fate’s needle’s fated fair, still seems hung toward those in Her bed.
    Is He not then jealous, His light then of few eyes now to take in?
    Most of His children grow blind now then ‘til dead.
    Now you see Fate is Her heart, He’ll soon blacken again.

    I sent this to Dal first to send to Forrest, but he said I should send it myself, which I did along with the solve. I made an effort to post it on the poetry page, couldn’t find it, but could have looked harder I guess. Part of me may have thought it was good enough to deserve special attention, but after reading some of what you guys have written I’d be lucky if it was even on par. Anyway, I hope to have time to post here more often while I await a response from Forrest on my solve. 🙂 I’ve read TFTW pretty good, but need to go through a few more times to just to be sure I’m sticking to it.

    PS. I’m upset about Iron Will saying he was leaving. I feel like I’ve really gotten to know you guys over these past few months… Was he kidding?

  205. Sameal2015… I like your sonnet it’s very beautiful…

    I really hope IronWill is not leaving he is one of my favorites…:)

    Also, if some of my ideas helped and you find the chest can I have the bracelet so I can give it to Forrest?

    Good Luck!!!!

  206. Poem ? humm…….

    Keep a smile and never frown.

    Forrest Fenn’s one good ole guy.

    We all have traveled many roads.

    The look of adventure within our eyes.

    when the “Chase” is over, lets do it again.

  207. Focus that was good
    Let’s add to it :

    Surely we shouldn’t ask for a loan.

    Now I have to find that gold.

    I wonder if he has told his daughters.

    I hope I don’t have a breakdown.

    I hope Forrest will be my friend . 🙂

    Anybody else want to play?

  208. “Santa Fe Man”

    A Santa Fe man was growing quite old ,
    So North he went to hide him some gold,
    How far he went still remains to be known,
    Some say to a land they call ” Yellowstone “.

    They say the “chest ” is ten inches square,
    All can look , but lookers beware,
    Because this ole man is sharp as a tack,
    He hid all the gold and he never looked back.

    Nine clues he gave to us as a path,
    Sounds simple to me, I’m doing the math,
    Thirty minutes have passed since the clues I began,
    Done figured out this Santa Fe man.

    I’m packing my bags to go get the gold,
    That poem was nothing, like what I’ve been told,
    heading up north where the buffalo’s roaming,
    Up in the northwest part of wyoming .

    I arrive at the ” secret ” place that I found,
    Jump out of my truck, took off with a bound,
    Climbed up to my spot where the water is high,
    I looked for the blaze, but started to sigh.

    It was then that I realized , without any doubt,
    The poem was much more than I figured out,
    It fits many places around this great land,
    My “hats off to you” that Santa Fe man.

    Many roads I have traveled, how long will it last ?
    Don’t really know but ” I’M HAVING A BLAST ”
    While I travel across this beautiful land,
    I’ll never doubt the “Santa Fe” man.

    By Focused

    • Wow! That would make a nice ballad if set to music,,,very nice Focused. A poem from me will follow, something to do when I’m down with the flu.


      Spring Forward,
      Enough of winter cold-
      We all want to head outside
      To search for treasures bold.

      Ad Venture,
      Watching Forrest and Dal live
      Gives us a measure of comfort
      Til we’re out to find the prize.

      Go Away,
      We will have a nice vacation
      And take in Rocky Mountain sights
      As we marvel at Fenn’s creation.

      Thanks A lot,
      To Dal and Forrest and Goofy too,
      For keeping us amused
      Until the searching starts anew.

    • Totally awesome focused !! ” Santa Fe Man ” was great , Alot of people can relate to your poem. Many are having a blast. keep up the good work . 🙂

  209. Well its 11:07 pm here in the Central time zone…. Spallies, Amy , CindyM I had fun with you guys….. now its time for me to check out of here.k Until next time… see ya and good luck on the chase….. focused. 🙂

  210. Pinch me please
    I must be dreaming!
    Ouch! Not that hard-
    Now I’m screaming!
    As silly as this prose
    it must be said,
    I can’t get it out of my mind
    can’t get it out a my head!
    Something big ahead of me
    is waiting,
    Waiting for me- you see,
    And I’m not afraid.
    did you hear what I said?
    I used to be a big scaredy cat
    but I realized
    that’s not me
    I’m not that!
    I’m ready to give it all a go,
    Sun, rain, sleet or snow..
    tell me your secrets
    and I’ll let you know
    they’re safe with me..
    I’m just a small fish
    in a giant crazy sea!
    Nobody pays attention to me!
    So I hide
    and I seek
    dodging the flies
    and ducking the beak.
    I’m not lost and I’m not alone,
    I don’t blend in
    and I’m not a drone.
    but if imagination is the key
    I guess we’ll see!
    Well that’s it
    nuff prose from me!

  211. Does anyone know where the question to Fenn about “leave no trace” can be found. I have read it before but can’t find it now.

    • It is on Jenny’s Site: mysteriouswritings.com. It was a Featured Question with Forrest, but I am not sure which one.

      • Here is the quote… I have to agree with him… I hate that feeling when you think you are in a special spot out in the woods, that no human has ever been to before, then you look down and see an old candy wrapper…:)

        “Buddy, I think you’re trying to get me in trouble but that’s where I am most of the time anyway, so I’ll answer your questions.

        You may as well ask me if I love the air. I don’t know but, I certainly am an appreciator of nature. “Leave no trace” is a rhetorical statement not intended to be taken literally. For instance it is not feasible for you to not leave a footprint somewhere or a dry fly snagged high on a tree limb, left by your back cast. But I agree with the philosophy of the phrase. I dislike seeing beer cans scattered around when I am fantasizing that I am the only person who has ever been in that spot.

        Generally speaking, there are places where one should stay on established trails; Yellowstone is one. However, it reminds me of the worn-out axiom, “If you ain’t the lead dog, the scenery never changes.” When I am in the mountains or in the desert, the last place I want to be is on a trail. Ain’t no adventure in that for me. There isn’t a human trail in very close proximaty to where I hid the treasure.f”

    • From Mysterious Writings:
      Question posted 6/28/2014:
      “Your words and actions say you are a friend and lover of the environment “more than most.” Do you follow Leave No Trace and did you while hiding the chest? ie stay on established trails. ~Buddy”

      I suggest you look it up at http://www.mysteriouswritings.com to see the answer.

  212. ” The Chest ”

    A chest I was made, from an elegant mold,
    Many years ago, I’m really quite old,
    By a craftsman hands, and the visions he had,
    He took his time , one patient young lad.

    He put on my lid , and gave me a latch,
    Then picked out the nicest key in the batch,
    Then lined me with wood, beautifully bold,
    To carry the ” book of days ” that are old.

    Those days are over , my missions anew,
    Now I hold gold, and fortunes for you,
    I’ve been hidden, for you to come find,
    By an old man, who’s one of a kind.

    The silence surrounds me, as I sit all alone,
    Hoping some day , to have me a home.
    you’ll open me up, as soon as you find,
    What I hold inside, will blow your mind.

    Rubies , diamonds, sapphires so blue,
    Gold galore , double eagles too,
    But of all the things ,that will catch your eyes,
    The grandest of grand, a very small prize.

    A silver bracelet , terquoise beads in a row,
    Made by an indian a long time ago.
    To return to a man, with a smile on your face,
    Thanking him for ” The Thrill of The Chase “.

    I’ll wait for you , in silent repose,
    How long will I wait ? nobody knows.
    But I will be here the day you arrive,
    And fall to your knees in total supprise .

    Enjoy the things , you see on your way,
    The rivers , the mountains , the clouds far away.
    I’m wishing you the very best,
    Come find me I say, from your friend, ” THE CHEST ” .

    By Focused

    • That’s from a heart with love from above
      With talent so gifted like the flight of a dove
      If I could ever be granted one wish
      It would be to be like the man from above.

    • Focused
      you’re wise
      your prose
      pleases the eyes
      your talent galore
      please, please,
      Some more? 🙂

      • Your guiding me around with harness and riggins,
        How many more do you want Mr. jdiggins ?

        For you I will try to be wise and be valiant ,
        But I can’t even come close , to match all your talent.

        Your words are soothing as dew drops on roses,
        My words are just a whole bunch of proses………


      • Your leading me around with harness and riggins,
        How may more do you want Mr. jdiggins ?

        I will try to be wise and be valiant,
        But I can’t even come close to match all your talent.

        Your words are soothing as dew drops on roses,
        Mine are just a whole bunch of proses………


        • Sorry Focused , Best I can do. I don’t have a rhyming bone in my body……….was fun though 🙂

      • Hey , there are many to thank so I’m going to say it now….. thank you Amy , bajaau , jdiggins , CindyM and onuat , and homecoming76 for all the compliments on “The Chest “. I’m flattered that so many liked it…… 🙂 and good luck to all of you guys in the chase…

    • Focused is a awesome poet.
      Those who read Dal’s blog know it.
      His sage words ring true with searchers;
      Both those who post
      and also the lurkers.

      • Thank you CintyM , I don’t consider myself a poet…..but a break from the chase is nice……. hope you get feeling better ….( flu)…..

        • Thanks Spallies , I was talking about the silver bracelet with the disc beads on it… the one Forrest would like back…. Maybe I should have worded it a little different…but hey, I’m not a poet…lol shoot when it comes to poetry I’m not even an amateur… 🙂 Thanks Spallies for the compliment….