Poetry Page IV…


This page is now closed. Please go to the latest Poetry page to explore more from our talented poets.

The chase certainly has inspired some great poetry…

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

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

Second page isΒ HERE

Third page is HERE



580 thoughts on “Poetry Page IV…

  1. Treasure Hunter

    It’s in my blood can’t you see
    And keeps chasing after me.
    I feel it flowing like a stream,
    Beyond the one In my dreams.
    Filling my heart and my veins,
    Through my eyes I’m not insane.
    The bugs got me and won’t let me be
    The trail keeps coming after me.
    I’m living life from beginning to end,
    Explorations around every bend.
    The peril of dangers I must go,
    I’m a treasure hunter don’t you know?
    It’s not what I do, I am what I Am.

  2. Open the door to
    Poetry page four.
    Invite the joker
    to a game of poker.
    Ante up, I’m in.
    Will double nickels
    Grab the win?
    Deuces wild,
    Gold coins piled.
    Lucky sevens
    Might be heaven.
    Four suits muster
    a belly buster.
    Ace of spades
    Up my sleeve.
    With 42 lbs
    I’ll take my leave.

    • Lol.. Nothing like a friendly game…. Thanks 42 that was good…..deal me in the next hand. K. Have fun chasing your deuce …see ya

      ” 42’s Hand ”

      When the dealings is over, all cards on the table,

      You’ll show your hand , 42 , and win if your able.

      All bluffing is over , and all betting now finished,

      With your ace up your sleeve, your bank will replenish.

      But Don’t stand at the table, like wanting to leave,

      Other players might have, an ace up their sleeve…….

      P.s. Just messing around with ya 42….good luck to you
      On your chase….until next time….see ya

    • CindyM , I really like ” New One “….congrats on your new grandchild…may you have many years with ( him /her ) to tell all the stories about your chase.
      I enjoy your words of poetry too CindyM , friends like you and Jdiggins and others too, inspire me to ” write just one more “……..thank you

      • Pdenver you are funny , you sure know how to yak,

        I don’t even worry, I know you’ve got my back.

        When I’m finished typing, and ready to hit the send,

        Sure is comfort knowing , and proofread by my friend……

        Just messing around with ya pdenver…. πŸ™‚

  3. CindyM……I left you a comment under 42’s above…about your poetry page lll post..sorry I posted wrong..lol maybe lightning won’t strike me down….see ya

  4. Illy ghost, 42, pdenver and focused,
    you may have been first,
    but I’m certainly not last.
    My words on this new page
    I’m going to cast.
    Cindym I congratulate you
    Grandma ‘ ing is a fun thing to do.
    I’ve been playing catch up,
    Hurry up and wait.
    I can’t wait like a little pup
    For spring to open its gate.
    Old man winter is often rude
    I think I’ve caught an attitude.
    Soon will be summer
    Then off I am again
    Like the littlest drummer
    Thumping the treasure beat of fenn!
    I hope we all can feel that thump
    In our hearts, and not our rump!
    Just teasing. I’ve been so sad when it’s gray, and with all this work, no time to play…

  5. Although I believe I am almost at the end, there are times I wonder if I even have an understanding of the first clue.
    (That seems pretty poetic to me.)

  6. My fellow searchers chiming in
    On Poetry page IV
    Have me cheering them all on
    And always wanting more.

    A friendly game of poker
    Has been begun by 42.
    I love pdenver’s observational skills
    He has the backs of me and you.

    Illinoisghost’s poem of searching
    Will get us in the mood.
    And even though she’s playing catch up,
    Jdiggins poems are good

    Lastly, in this poem I’ll mention
    Debbie’s poetic wondering.
    Surely she will have this gang
    Of poets and subscribers pondering.

    The friendly banter on this page
    Is good fun and makes me giggle.
    And until I can get out and search again
    All I can do is sit and wiggle.

    Thanks everyone for all the wise, funny, thought provoking poems. What a great group of folks! Dal,,,thanks for providing us with a place to share them. And Forrest,,, thanks for throwing us all together.

  7. Simply adding some levity – πŸ™‚

    There now is a blogger named Dal,
    Whose words are hearty and hale,
    Who has a good friend,
    The man Forrest Fenn,
    That hid his bronze chest in a vale.


  8. Very nice swwot, I love limmericks and levity πŸ™‚

    A tip when searching for treasure-
    Take a partner along for good measure.
    This may sound confusing,
    But when you’re out musing,
    It will only double your pleasure.

  9. Hands of Time

    Tiny hands to grasp fingers and hair.
    Small hands to gather dandelions and daisies.
    Growing hands to catch fireflies and ladybugs.
    Grown hands to have and to hold.
    Mature hands to caress another’s most dear.

    • Nice pdenver. My mind relaxed and reminisced. Made me pause and think about my grandfathering which is where I am today

    • pdenver…Perhaps this comment will not show up under your “Hands of Time” poem…but I did want to comment on it.

      I want to both tell you that I enjoyed your “time” poem AND share how much it drew me in…because of a poem I had almost forgotten about that I wrote more than 35 years ago. At the time, I was in the “middle”…between having young children and taking care of my own Mom.*


      Tiny hands, reaching out
      To be guided
      Up steps, across busy streets
      Mommy or Daddy by their side

      Little hands, always busy
      Have to learn
      To touch, to play, explore
      Mom or Dad…always close by

      Grown up hands, always working
      So little time
      To teach, to love, to share
      Holding children of their own

      Wrinkled hands, reaching out
      To be guided
      Up steps, across busy streets
      Loving children at their side

      *The cycles of life…ocean’s tides…it is important to feel their presence.

        • And…thank you Focused

          I also just read your “The Orchard” poem and my senses/memories are ripe with the essence of your pie.

          As a shout out also to pdenver’s “Hands” poem…one of life’s simple joys is walking a path/trail through an orchard or the woods…holding the small hand of a child or grandchild, enjoying the moment together (sometimes in silence and others times with laughter)

  10. A Painter’s Watercolor Dream

    This is a watercolor picture,
    With lots of shapes and sizes;
    It makes me feel so good inside,
    While I sit and paint more.

    This is a watercolor picture,
    The colors fade away;
    The snow covered hills I once painted,
    Are now melting away.

    This is a watercolor picture,
    The colors and compositions appear before me;
    I sit and work for hours,
    Now it is my masterpiece.

  11. I read from the beginning right thru to the end
    The poem from the millionaire Forrest Fenn
    The enticement is great
    The allure of fate
    Can this be for one and no more ?
    Could fate have more to say than 4 ?
    Searching high and searching low
    We heard a sound when the wind blow
    To stand right near Tarzans mount
    To stand right near to marvel and count
    Someday the treasure may be found or not
    As a thousand years is quite alot

  12. A fools wisdom

    Under a cloud filled sky,
    upon a mountain high,
    sunbeams of light,
    Heavens pillars so bright.

    Crown of diamonds white,
    the majesty of a mountains height,
    and water flows thru veins of blue,
    with a robe of pine green hue.

    Valleys deep with age of time,
    crag and stone ever sublime,
    high walls of granite and quartz,
    with deep lake is the mountain forts.

    From heart deep underground,
    comes the ore made so round,
    mans desire coins of gold,
    and the mountains pain so old.

    The mountains wish for man,
    to learn the real treasure if he can,
    it is not what we take and make,
    our treasure is in our hearts.
    The treasure of the mountains,
    is the beauty and majesty.
    Placed in our hearts and minds,
    thru our eyes is treasure taken.

  13. ” The Orchard ”

    Walking through an orchard, the rows are straight and neat,

    Up above the sky is blue, cut grass beneath my feet.

    The wind is gently blowing , the branches slowly wave,

    Perfect day to gather fruit, that mother nature gave.

    Then I noticed up ahead, the edge of a water canal,

    One lone tree , just standing there, damaged by a plow.

    It was pushed off to the side, as if nobody cared,

    To me it looked majestic, and it’s fruit was also spared.

    I crawled down to the waters edge, my basket in my hand,

    From here I’ll gather all my fruit, that is if I can.

    Standing below the branches, they wave above my head,

    Reaching to grab an apple, that was shiny and deep red .

    Perfect day of solitude, I enjoyed beneath that tree,

    In a ditch, bound with fruit, just waiting there for me.

    My basket full, I headed back, down that perfect row,

    The apples in my basket, seemed as if they glowed.

    Lessons that I learned that day, I’ll pass them down the line,

    So others too can enjoy their walk, through the orchard of sunshine.

    Just because you stand alone, not in a neatly row,

    Doesn’t mean you not a color, of Gods all mighty’s rainbow.

    If your ever in a ditch, and your feeling all alone,

    Think about the fruit you bear, like that I carried home.

    Yes my day was perfect, no cloud within the sky,

    But not as perfect as the taste, of my fresh made apple pie………

    By: Focused

    • Beautiful, Focused! I was going down Memory Lane with my mother and sisters as we walked through the apple orchards near our home. The sweet smells among the slight breeze. I can smell the warm scent of the apple pie now. I’d like a small slice if you’d like to share, please. Shall I bring a blanket for everyone to join? πŸ™‚

      • I’ll fedex you a slice too pdenver, glad I could rekindle a good memory for you.
        Good luck to ya in your chase……. See ya

      • Their not ready now swwot…….just thinking of warmer weather….gotta do something to help pass the winter months…..I hope it gave you thoughts of a warmer time……good luck to you swwot…until next time……..see ya

        • *Focused*
          *For that slice of joy*
          * Ripe with memories *
          * Hand picked *
          (of nature’s candy)

          The shape of my poem was cultivated like a tree. Hope it grows straight when submitted by me. (meant to be fun, but may not line up correctly.)

    • Spallies here’s a slice for you , steaming , nice and hot,

      Better enjoy it while you can, because that’s all I’ve got……..

      See ya…

  14. ” Lessons Learned ”

    Lessons learned, tho wounds were deep, glazed by scars,

    Lessons learned, tho eyes do weep, neath distant stars.

    Lessons learned, tho heart does break, leaking tears within,

    Lessons learned, tho torn apart, ripped by ravage sin.

    Lessons learned, tho stepped upon, by feet of enemy,

    Lessons learned, tho dagger pierced, into the side of thee.

    Lessons learned, tho bleeding heart, emptying your soul,

    Lessons learned, tho tears were caught, in overflowing bowl.

    Wisdom is sometimes painful, many years you yearned,

    But God will stand beside you, while tho ” Lessons Learned ” …………..

    By: Focused

    • Thanks for always sharing your poetry Focused. You are wise beyond belief, always thought provoking, and a baker as well. I’d like the first slice of the next pie, please.

      Thanks in advance πŸ™‚ Keep up the amazing work.

      • The pie is in the oven CindyM….I’ll let ya know when it’s ready…lol glad you enjoy my words….even though they’sometimes are ” out there “….

        The pie is in the oven, fragrance fills the room.

        Just for you cindyM, I’ll have your slice real soon…….

        See ya

  15. ” Friendly Apple Pie ”

    My pie is in the oven , my mind it drifts away,

    About the apple pie I baked , just the other day.

    I cut it up in slices, and proudly passed it out,

    To friends who really wanted some , that’s what it’s all about.

    Though the pie was small, and the slices they were thin,

    Everyone enjoyed their slice, except for one good friend.

    CindyM , I know you missed out, but glad to see ya back,

    For you I have , one whole pie , sitting on my bakers rack.

    I’ve always been , the honest type , and do the things I say,

    So Here’s a pie just for you, just like the other day.

    But there is one small difference, from the other pie I cooked,

    The apples are not quite as fresh, and I didn’t need a book.

    I said that I would bake one, just for you my friend,

    It’s the thought that really counts , I’ll serve it with a grin.

    I didn’t have fresh picked apples, please don’t be mad at me,

    The apple pie I cooked for you, it is a ” Sara Lee ” ……………

    By: Focused

    P.S. – Enjoy my friend….see ya

    • Now I’m sitting in the diner
      Enjoying my fish plate,
      Thinking of the pie I missed
      It seems I’m always late.

      (My dad would call me blister.
      I know it was all in fun,
      For my timing in the olden days was that
      I showed up when the work was done.)


      I’m sure I missed the bestest pie,,,
      But it’s alright with me.
      I’ll take the whole and pass it around
      ‘Cuz nobody doesn’t like Sara Lee.

      Thank you Focused, for being a friend πŸ™‚

  16. I miss my friends
    Here on the blog

    I’ve been a bit busy
    And otherwise dizzy. πŸ™‚

    I’m trying to play catch up
    But overflowed this cup.

    You all have much to say
    And I love to read it every day

    But time is not my friend of late
    I’ve been unable to fully relate

    Well that makes me sad
    I miss my fenn blog family bad. πŸ™

    But it’s all well and good
    Cause I’m wearing my hood

    That tells me I had plenty to say
    I need to let some others play

    I love it here and all of you
    You guys are an awesome crew!

    • Thanks jdiggins your pretty awesome yourself…..hope you get caught up…..we’ll be right here waiting my friend…. πŸ™‚ good job on poem…… See ya

    • Well said jdiggins,,,I love to hang out here with you guys too.

      I try to read everything and leave comment when I can,,,, but, in case I don’t get there,,, great job everyone. You’re all great poets in my book!

  17. ” Quicksands Of My Time ”

    While looking through old photo’s, with those whom which I care,

    I notice how quick I’m aging , a silver lining in every hair.

    I feel as if I earned them , each and every one,

    A silver hair, for every year , since my life begun.

    Im Looking at a photograph, when I was very young,

    Standing on our wooden porch, sticking out my tongue.

    I notice in our yard , parked by the water well,

    Dad’s 47′ Chevrolet , I thought this truck was swell.

    There are many pictures, through the thickets of my life,

    From cruising down the boulevard , to the wedding with my wife.

    But as I proudly stare at them , and talk of all the times,

    That home place, now covered up, grown over by the vines.

    My running slowed down to a walk, a slow and steady pace,

    My Wrinkles have overtaken , the smoothness of my face.

    But age will not deter me, I’ll let my happiness shine,

    Even though my feet are stuck , in the quicksands of my time…….

    By: Focused

    P.S. – ” Let your happiness shine “

  18. It’s tough to dream big
    And believe in it so
    I’m stuck on this gig
    Just can’t let it go

    I’ve been called a nut,
    Obsessed, and rolled some eyes
    I would agree, but,
    I m busy adding pies.

    For some reason fate
    Knocked upon my door
    He said, “we have a date,
    What are you waiting for?”

    So I jumped in, likely split
    I may have made a splash
    Tried to be clever, use wit
    Even got whiplash.

    Old man fate, he kept on
    His job here was done
    And even though he’s gone
    He left behind great fun

    Yes, I do dream a lot
    And most I have to let go
    But this is the best I’ve got
    And it means the world, you know.

    it’s not about gold or treasure
    It’s all about me
    To achieve such a measure
    Can be reality.

    you just have to DREAM. πŸ™‚

  19. ” Spiritual Friends ”

    I took some time to sit alone , just the other day,

    To listen to the spirits , and what they had to say.

    You can also hear them , and I strongly encourage you do,

    I know that you will be amazed , when the spirits speak to you.

    I sat upon a mesa’s edge, a river was far below,

    The sky was blue, the sun was high, a wind began to blow.

    As the spirits came to me, the breeze it brushed my face,

    My eyes were closed, hands in my lap, I was in my spiritual place.

    I was visited by the spirit, of a long past Indian chief,

    He tells me of a springtime day , he stood in disbelief.

    While standing on that Mesa’s edge, many years ago,

    He seen a hundred spaniards, on their horses down below.

    He tells me of the sparkle , reflecting from their silver Spurs,

    He knew someday the sparkle, would try to take his furs.

    I could feel the worry in his voice, as his spirit spoke to me,

    Then he left , as he came , on a soft and gentle breeze.

    Then another spirit came, to speak to me that day,

    A woman tells me how she made, many pots of clay.

    And how they slowly cured, so hard, in the desert sun,

    Designs that she would paint on them, were loved by everyone.

    She said she also took the pots, to tribes that lived nearby,

    And traded them for some other things, that much improved their lives.

    Then just like with the chief, she was there , then gone again,

    With no goodbye, she blew away , carried by the wind.

    My time upon the Mesa , it seemed to fly by fast,

    But I enjoyed the time I spent, with the spirits of the past.

    But really they’re more than spirits, carried in the wind,

    To me they will always be, my long lost spiritual friends………..

    By: Focused

    • Focused – I enjoyed reading your ‘whispers from the ancients’ which is reminiscent of ff’s intro to his beautiful book “Historic American Indian Dolls”.

      You may enjoy the following…

      “There were no temples or shrines among us save those of nature…He who rides upon the rigorous wind of the north, or breathes forth His spirit upon aromatic southern airs, whose war canoe is launched upon majestic rivers – He needs no lesser cathedral.” – OHIYESA, DAKOTA

      • I agree………..thank you lia that was nice…your right, I did enjoy it hat….good luck to ya….until next time….see ya

    • The Secrets of San Lazaro Pueblo is my favorite. The spirits from that place speak to me from the book in a way I will probably never get to discuss with anyone. I guess I’ll just talk to the stars since they listen the best.

      • I agree 23Kachinas. … I think it would be awesome to sit upon medicine rock in total silence and listen to the past ….the spirits of san Lazaro tug at me too……..Forrest is lucky to have spent so many years around that place…I could only imagine……good luck to you 23Kachinas while you chase your dreams. ….until next time……just listen……see ya

      • Hello 23Kachinas and Focused. You write some amazing poetry, Focused. I love reading it. (You too, Jdiggins et al.)
        I am blessed to own a beautiful copy of Forrest’s book, “The Secrets of San Lazaro Pueblo”…courtesy of my wife’s artistic talent.
        The Spirits of San Lazaro seem to call me, too. That looks like a very enchanted place. I would love to visit there one day…and find a high spot…like on top of Medicine Rock…and just listen.


        I find it hard to believe that Forrest only uncovered one percent. And yet…with “only” one percent look at how much more we now know.

        Thank you, Forrest…for caring enough about the past…to share it with the future.

        • Thanks JC1117 , I’m glad you liked key reading my words..thanks for the spiritual music, I loved it…. I don’t have the book ” Spirits of San Lazaro ” but everyone who talks about it says it’s great. And I’m sure it is…
          Yes , I agree a moment in silence at San Lazaro , to me , would be amazing….maybe we could talk Forrest into taking us there JC1117.. πŸ™‚ like a painter with his canvas , I would sit upon medicine rock and write what I hear……….. Sorry JC1117 , I took off dreaming again…..anyways, thank you and good luck to you on your chase….

          ” Take the time to listen, JC , to words carried in the wind ,

          Listen close and they will tell, how great life was back then. ”

          See ya……..

        • JC1117 thank you for introducing me to the music of R. Carlos Nakai. I learned his His His “Earth Spirit” and “Canyon Trilogy” albums are the only Native American albums to be certified Gold by the RIAA. It’s all gold to me. People are our greatest treasures.

        • JC1117…thank you, I enjoyed the music. My husband and I visited Monument Valley last June and were fortunate to experience an amazing sunset, night of stars (new moon) and beautiful sunrise.

          We purchased a CD at the Bookstore and enjoy listening to it.

    • Thank you Belle for your kind comment. I’m glad you liked my words….good luck to you while you chase your dreams……see ya … πŸ™‚

      ” There is solitude in the silence, Belle , but only if you hear,

      whispers will then speak to you, your heart becomes your ears.”


    Death creeps in on us,
    Like a black veil of night.

    But Oh, what a surprise.


  21. Gray Memories

    I remember being two,
    my memory a little gray;
    news rang out the President was shot,
    and mother’s tears flowed that day.

    I remember being nine,
    my memory a little gray;
    war was broadcast across the screen,
    not for the young, it was time to play.

    I remember being twenty-four,
    my memory a little gray;
    Challenger went up and then was gone,
    I didn’t know what to say.

    I remember being forty,
    my memory a little gray;
    plane flew and the towers fell,
    and shock set in without delay.

    As my age gets older,
    my memory a little gray;
    these sad events remembered,
    may slowly drift away.

    • pdenver…I enjoyed your poem -‘Gray Memories’, thank you.

      There are moments that always remain with us. For me, being somewhat older, the moment of JFK’s assassination will always leave a void, a pain, a question in my heart. I was a junior in High School and remember my Chemistry teacher’s words about what had happened. I’ve always wanted closure.

      AND…living close to NYC…the moments of 9/11 are still very real.

      Sad moments do slowly drift away…but, never completely. We live with them and perhaps are shaped by them. It is important to both feel and move forward.

      Thank you again.

    • Nice poem pdenver,,, those memories are still all too vivid in my mind.

      Watching the lift-offs were always so exciting when I was a child that I grabbed my small son and sat cross-legged in front of the TV with him in my lap. Listening to mission control talking about the launch as we watched the Challenger debris trails was very surreal, sad and difficult to explain to a four year old.

      • Hello CindyM. Thank you for the complement and sharing your memories of the Challenger. I remember it as if it happened yesterday.

    • Good job pdenver ….I liked your poem… It made me think….. πŸ™‚

      Life may not be pleasent , all 24 hours a day,

      Can’t we just keep the good , and throw the bad away ?

      It’s the diversity around us, with our wounds and battle scars,

      That defines us as a person, and shows others who we are.

      Our lives are not as simple, like the colors black and white,

      There is evil living among us , trying to wrong the right.

      Pdenver your words ring true, yes, everything you say,

      But you would not be you, without your “memories of gray……..”.

      See ya my friend : Focused

  22. As I plan my chase for gold this spring, outside frigid wind nips trees. A vale whispers to the wild goose on wing, to return swiftly with the southern breeze. Forlornly, the place where warm waters halt awaits, and snowy home of brown creates, anticipation in minds of all, treasure seekers large and small. Silent echoes of a time long past, morning to evening shadows cast their secrets in the canyon down, drawing me away from my busy hometown. – C.B.

  23. Today I grieved and celebrated the life of
    A 19 year old taken too soon,
    If you’ve lost a loved one this year,
    perhaps these words will bring peace.

    Author Unknown

    Don’t grieve for me; now I’m free.
    I’m following the path God laid for me.
    I took His hand when I hear Him call.
    I turned my back and left it all.

    I could not stay another day,
    To laugh, to love, to work or play.
    Tasks left undone must stay that way,
    I found that peace at the close of day.

    If my parting has left a void,
    Then fill it with remembered joy.
    A friendship shared, a laugh , a kiss,
    Ah, yes, these things, I too, will miss.

    Be not burdened with times of sorrow,
    I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow.
    My lifes’s been full; I savored much.
    Good friends, good times, a loved one’s touch.

    Perhaps my time seemed all too brief,
    Don’t lengthen it now with undue grief.
    Lift up your hearts and peace to thee,
    God wanted me now; He set me free.

    • Hello Lia. My thoughts and prayers are with you and the family of the 19 year old. May you find comfort during this time. The poem you’ve posted is beautiful.

    • “Lia today , may bring you deep sorrow,

      But Grief it eases with each passing tomorrow.

      I know she walks , with staff in her hand,

      Over trails with God , in the promise land.

      No pain, no sorrow, no doubt, no fear,

      Just joyous times , with him walking near.

      My prayers are with you, so Lia be strong,

      In silence you’ll hear , her heavenly songs………

      My prayers are with you my friend…..Focused

    • Lia…thank you for sharing the poem and so sorry for the loss.

      Words will help a grieving soul when it needs to cry…

      A Minute of Life…

      A New Year begins…like a circle going round
      Embracing tears inside…never ending…but the flow
      Heightens my senses of one moment…profound
      Feeling “Her” life journey…from so long ago

      Seems like only yesterday…but gone…forty-five years
      This date reminds…this overwhelming grief
      Today I welcome and yes…allow…these tears
      Unleash, for…it was “Her” minute of life…it was too brief

      In less than a minute…her moments of birth
      And then…death…came together in the same place
      But…I’ve always carried her essence…her worth
      In me…even now…my senses must race…

      Never having heard “Her” voice…I wonder now…Do I hear
      “Her” guiding me on this…my journey…this chase
      Like the wind’s soft whispers, the touches…a tear
      Draws me gently…to this…such a wondrous place

  24. Beautiful poem – Hope it brings solace to the 19 year-olds family. My thoughts and prayers go out to you and thee 19 year-olds family.


  25. Thank you pdenver. The words are not mine, but they echoed sweetly through my soul today. I plan to help her mom start a heart garden to keep memories alive. What the heart remembers serves as a balm of healing.

    In the past Forrest has mentioned the person who finds his treasure chest will have ‘earned’ it, which can imply…will grieve; or a burial urn. I can’t help thinking the place is private/sacred – where Forrest wishes to take off on his final flight upon angel wings. It raises ethical and spiritual questions in an old softy like me. Not as simple as go claim the gold, even if I did know where to look.

    • Hello Lia. That is a nice gesture. I kept some of my mother’s clothes so that I may make a blanket and wrap it around myself; like a hug from her. I haven’t made it yet and it’s been three years. Time needs to heal the heart, no matter how long it takes.

    • Thanks for sharing those heartfelt words, Lia.
      This Life can truly be a vale of tears…especially for those who love and care.

      “Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart,
      And all is darkened in the vale of tears,
      Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
      Who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears.”

      That is from one of my favorite poems, “Be Still, My Soul”.

      It goes hand-in-hand with this beautiful poem:


      “Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
      Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
      To me the meanest flower that blows can give
      Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.”

  26. Glad you enjoyed CB, JD. Enjoy your evening. If I’m gonna have a new solution ready to go this spring, I better get back to the poem. Think I’ll split my search efforts between Jackson Hole and a glaciated canyon near Helmet mountain in the Madison alluvial plain.

  27. Thank you every one. Your words of kindness and beautiful poetry are appreciated more than you know.

  28. I hope prose is acceptable

    Pinon Jay

    I have a special beak. I can get into the cones most Jays can’t. Pinon Pine, in particular.

    The richest. Ahhh. But they are fickle. Whole valleys may make no pinons for years. We have to search in flights of 3 to 5, and regroup with parts of the other 10 flights, maybe with some Stellars, or Clarke’s to provide cover, just to find a flat with pinons you could eat. Not even worth caching.

    We have secrets to caching our pinons. Nothing around much, no juicy sprouts. Turns out that is just where the pinon loves to take root, kinda off on its own. Good thing.

    So we help each other, Pine and Jay,

    …….even if you think you are an oak and I think I am a bluebird

      • Thanks.

        My problem with writing, composing, painting, and the like, is it usually results in something way too spartan or way too overdone.

        When I hit the middle ground writing wise, I have often started with something awesome but in need of fleshing out a bit…the reader might not quite get the awesome importance of this paragraph here. Way over-fleshed-it-out, then deleted all the awesome stuff as “too in the weeds” and left the “fleshing out” with no context… rotting in the sun.

        So, I took up knitting. oops

        • shame on me for self commenting, but

          perhaps I’ve hit on something

          interpretation of the poem….not too spartan, and not too elaborate

          • Hello Joseph. You may have found something in your words. According to Mr. Fenn, the poem is straightforward. Good luck to you in the chase. Most of all, have fun and be safe.

  29. All IMHO, Yes, no games staight foward and does what all poems strive to do, make you feel some emotion or enlighten you about something, in this case, life is tuff but worth It ( and more), The thing it does other poem’s don’t do is of course give you locator clues to the treasure chest. But it does not take the whole poem to do that.
    After studing the poem from another viepoint,
    I now feel as if I have graduated from freshman literature class and philosophy class, Now I am ready for geography class and map reading. I have my 9 locator clues. Semicolon, and, but, helped me get there

    • I will add , English class to that list, maybe high school English. Do you remember when we had ‘diagram ‘ sentences? I did that to parts of the poem. Get there!


    If you can keep your head when all about you
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
    If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too;
    If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
    Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

    If you can dreamβ€”and not make dreams your master;
    If you can thinkβ€”and not make thoughts your aim;
    If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same;
    If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
    Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

    If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
    And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breathe a word about your loss;
    If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,
    And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: β€˜Hold on!’

    If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
    Or walk with Kingsβ€”nor lose the common touch,
    If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much;
    If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
    Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
    Andβ€”which is moreβ€”you’ll be a Man, my son!


    • Hello again 23kachinas…I really enjoyed the poem (Kipling)

      The first 2 lines of the last stanza somehow made me feel the “essence” of Jackie Kennedy in TFTW (page 149) when Forrest wrote:

      “That she could move easily and with unlimited grace and poise among royalty…but could also take her shoes off and mingle with art dealers and cowboys who wore the trappings of a life she was comfortable being around.”

      I remember, when I first started this treasure journey, I read about Rudyard Kipling visiting Yellowstone (via the spur of the Northern Pacific) in 1889 and even stopped along the way to fish with Yankee Jim George. His tales are found in “From Sea to Sea: Letters of Travel, Volume Two”

      Thank you.

      • Ellen, Nice connection back to the story of Jackie Kennedy. I think we can all appreciate people who are grounded and fly and the same time. There is a Peter Pan spirit in all searchers.

    • Good day to you 24Kachinas, I awarded you an extra Kachina:-)

      Thanks for sharing Kipling’s excellent poem – it cleared the fog from my mind. Phillip Phillips has a terrific song which compliments your post.


      • anna – Phillip Phillips’ Home sure is a nice song, makes you remember where your heart is!

        • πŸ˜‰ 23

          My heart-home abides in Montana, always. In grade school, after reciting the pledge of allegiance, we sang…

          My Home’s In Montana
          Glenn Ohrlin

          My home’s in Montana
          I wear a bandana
          My spurs are of silver
          My pony is gray
          While riding the ranges
          My luck never changes
          With foot in the stirrup I’ll gallop away

          When valleys are dusty
          My pony is trusty
          He lopes through the blizzards
          The snow in his ears.
          The cattle may scatter
          But what does it matter
          My rope is a halter for pig-headed steers

          When far from the ranches
          I chop the pine branches
          To heap on the campfire
          As daylight grows pale
          When I have partaken
          Of beans and of bacon
          I’ll whistle a merry old song of the trail

          My home’s in Montana
          I wear a bandana
          My spurs are of silver
          My pony is gray
          While riding the ranges
          My luck never changes
          With foot in the stirrup I’ll gallop away.

          • I belong to the land in a place my family calls Shangri-La, though I’m quite fond of a few other places that have captured my imagination in CA and NM.

  31. MARCH

    When March blows on in…
    It can heighten our core
    The rhythm…the cadence
    The winds, tides and more

    Perhaps it’s the lion
    Who’s first through the door
    Like Winnie the Pooh’s Blustery Day
    Through the trees…it will roar

    Sometimes…like the calm of still water
    In comes the lamb…oh so meek
    The changeable weather…surprises
    Each and every day of the week

    So, imagine yourself like Alice
    Having tea with the March Hare
    Or, on the Ides…the 15th
    Et tu, Brute…Caesar beware

    Top O’ the Morning to you
    Search…A hidden pot of gold
    It’s at the end of the rainbow
    Or…so we’ve been told

    And, of course…Spring is welcome
    The Vernal Equinox
    Feeling the wonders of rebirth
    And, perhaps…a change of the clocks

    Some call the wind Mariah
    Or march with different paces
    So just find your own drummer
    Stay strong…for what life faces

      • pdenver…thanks, I appreciate it

        A Happy Birthday to Joseph and to all born in March. My favorite month and yes, also my birth month.

        Every March, my husband (also a March Pisces) and I are drawn to enjoy a few days near the ocean. Looking forward to it soon.

        • Hello Ellen. An early Happy Birthday to you and your husband, too! May the sights and sounds of the ocean bring you great memories. πŸ™‚

  32. The lure of the treasure

    tempts me out too soon.

    But perhaps not, with care

    I have been in the cold

    and followed by mountain lions

    perhaps lucky, probably stupid

    I survived.

  33. “DREAMS” – Fleetwood Mac


    Thunder only happens when it’s raining
    Players only love you when they’re playing
    Say… Women… they will come and they will go
    When the rain washes you clean… you’ll know, you’ll know

    • Great song 23kachinas…

      Like a heartbeat…drives you mad…
      In the stillness of remembering what you had…
      And what you lost…
      And what you lost…
      And what you lost

      • Losing over and over again infinitly isn’t so bad. You still learn something each time. No one here is a “winner,” we are just players in the Great Game of Life.

      • Dal, for some reason I can only post short comments… None of my poetry will post….have I been limited ? If so then I would like to tell everyone that it has been fun…..thanks Focused…..

          • Spallies as far as I know we don’t have a limit on how many characters can be in a comment and don’t have a way to control the number of characters in a comment. I will check into it, but I don’t think it’s anything on this end.

        • Mine was doing that also on the last odds and ends, when Dal started a new one it went away. A glitch maybe, it is frustrating to write a comment only to discover you can not find the post comment button.

          • Hello JL. This happened to me a few times over the past couple days or so, too. Typed in my comment as usual, only to watch the reply section shrink and no longer show the “Post Comment” button. I would go back, refresh the page and try again, most times with success. I enjoy reading Focused’s poetry, along with others. I’m sure Dal and Goofy will find the hiccup and give it a small dose of sugar to have it go away. πŸ™‚

  34. Focused – you have a following here and we truly enjoy your poetry. Please don’t leave. Sending you a group (((hug))).

  35. Thanks goofy, it must be a glitch on my end. I just couldn’t understand why a short comment would post but not a longer one. Thank you everyone for your encouraging words. And thank you goofy for your prompt response…I will keep trying. I have more poetry …if I can get them posted….good luck everyone , and be safe chasing your dreams…… see ya

    • Focused, a few times when people had trouble posting they were copying directly from a word processor (Word) vs. a text editor, and posting it into the comment. Word processors put a lot of extra characters in a document (formatting etc.) and sometimes (not all times) wordpress doesn’t like them. There are no error messages to the poster and we don’t get a notice of anything here, it just doesn’t post.

  36. Focused inspires me to think
    To make words that always link
    To tell a story in black and white
    And able to do it without a fight.

    There’s good inside his words of wise
    He paints his tales for eager eyes
    But focused is he and I am me
    My words are only what will be.

    So without force or friction
    And a bit of duo fiction
    Jump on board and take a ride,
    A ride to the wild side.

    My mind works fast and quick
    Not always quite in in order
    My thoughts are deep and thick
    And often on the border

    I’ve met fate before
    And he had this to say
    “Don’t let coincidence explore
    Where none has reason for”.

    From day one, my first breath,
    Every second to my death,
    My path has been placed
    And there’s no time to waste.

    Give it all you got, and don’t give up
    ‘Times my lips blister that cup
    But I’m the only one who knows
    How brightly my candle glows.

    I ve been through it all so to say
    And wouldn’t change a thing
    My lessons were not small to pay
    And still my heart can still sing.

    that’s life as I see it
    Taken one day at a time
    A dreamer can always visit
    A place within his mind

    For every tear is a smile
    Every pain is all worthwhile
    Without sorrow to know joy
    There is no measure to employ

    I’ve found it you see
    I’ve grasped it all
    But I’m still not quite free
    I keep dropping the ball

    But I pick it back up over and such
    And try, try again as only I know
    I can reach, if I just try, I can touch
    The sky then where next can I go

    One foot in front of the other
    Always looking ahead to see
    Watching out for little brother
    And just try to be happy.

    nuff rambles. Sorry. Started with a different thought, then my finger took over. πŸ™‚ happens a lot…

  37. ” A Note To Cancer ”

    You came into my body, not welcomed here at all ,

    I did not ask for you to come , for you I did not call.

    Since your here , you must be warned , God is on my side,

    There’s no place in my body, that you can run and hide.

    Let’s not waste a minute more , lets get this battle started ,

    For I have not a tender soul , nor am I tender hearted.

    I’m not fighting just for me , I’ll fight for many more,

    Who’s lives you slowly crept into, I’ll even up the score.

    Through the many harden months , with you I have fought,

    Not willing to give in to you, the victory that I sought.

    My strength , faith and love of life , grows stronger every day,

    Some day I’ll be rid of you , I bow my head and pray.

    I see your getting weaker now , my victories almost here,

    Just to know your evil’s gone, I know I’m gonna cheer.

    You have taken many lives, many that I know,

    Now it’s time for you to die , time for you to go.

    I just received the grandest news, my doctor he did say,

    That you have left my body, died and went away.

    I drop my head, close my eyes , β€œThank you God” I say,

    For helping me with my battle , and with me all the way.

    Many now are fighting , with the evils that I tell,

    Fight with every ounce in you , and send ” CANCER ”

    Straight to Hell…………….

    By Focused

    I dedicate this to everyone fighting their battle…..
    Stay strong , keep faith….. God bless

    • Hello Focused. This is a beautiful poem and dedication to those who have fought and fighting the dreaded disease. Thank you for doing so. I lost a sister-in-law to breast cancer at a young age of 53.

  38. ” note to cancer is an old poem I wrote…..I’m just testing to understand why my other ones won’t post…. Have a great day…

  39. There was a man named Fenn
    Who carried a grin.
    He found a box to put stuff in.

    some gold and things, who knows what else,
    nothing but everything on the old mans shelves

    Watching the world chase their tails,
    Even the IQ folks from the Harvards and Yales.
    All they call say is “what the hell”

    His grin is glued tight like that jar in the box,
    Dal has 60 searches, and is still kicking rocks.

    Where is the gold, Fenn? tell us where it is!
    I promise I’ll give you your bracelet back to put on your wrist.
    Just give me all the hints!

    I found a bike and a broom, what is this, OZ?
    Black, white, or color, I’m against all the odds.
    Whats the deal with the frogs?

    We are not goonies or pirates. Just little ole fish.
    Swimming around, trying to find our wish.

    Im not taking that bait, thanks for throwing me back,
    worms are for the birds, gold is my favorite snack
    and tic tacs, but they give me plaque..

    Im creating my own path now, but ill need some LSD,
    Ill be tripping on Long Skinny Dogs, and gettin wealthy,

    Ill strike a pose when I find that box.
    Then, give you your bracelet, and you can kick rocks!


    • Good job Hammertime

      ” Gold and jewels would be a pleasure,
      But in our hearts , is where wealth is measured. ”

      Just messing with ya Hammertime…
      Good luck to ya on your chase….see ya

  40. Good Morning Jdiggins,
    Focussed & Hammertime.
    I’m no longer tucked in,
    My bed sheets are tossed,
    The coffee pot is on,
    I can’t wait for the rhymes.

    Thanks for wearing
    Your thoughts on a sleeve.
    Creative and thoughtful,
    You encourage us all
    from morning to eve.

    Thanks for inspiring and encouraging me! Loved your poems.

    • ” Lia , pour me a cup , i’ll take mine black,
      I can’t help it , we just like to yak.

      I’m glad you like encouraging rhymes,
      Maybe it’ll help you , find the chest in due time….”

  41. Keen observations

    Some searchers are honest, smart, and solemn
    While others are very much like Gollum
    Whom smeagal became when putting on the ring
    Lusting after gold like snakes that sting
    Saying, “Indugence my precious”,
    And turning into someone reckless.
    Remember what became of him?
    A warning to be fair not grimm,
    Cheaters in the end don’t win.
    They rott away behind bars of iron
    As the righteous attain their hearts desire.

      • Hello C.B.. I didn’t catch the misspelled word. It’s amazing what the eyes sees and the mind interprets. Reminds me of a poem I read. πŸ™‚

        • That’s a nice compliment pdenver πŸ™‚ I suppose that’s the goal of every writer, to draw the reader into their poem or story to the point their mind overlooks grammar. Some people may not like my observations, but it’s true. Let’s face it, the day will come when the announcement is made and the chase officially ends. What will the Gollum types do when that happens? Will they accept the game is over? Some feel entitled to let honest people do all the work then steal from them. There needs to be a 1-800-BETS-OFF for those types. I caught hackers in my private email recently and I’m pretty stirred up about it. Here’s a couple of links about how this can happen and how to prevent it. Feel free to pass these on to your friends and familly…

          • Hello C.B.. This is an interesting post. I believe you may be correct in what you’ve stated. I have to believe in human kindness and the good in this world. We’re all given the chance to participate in this chase. It is up to each of us to try to figure out what the poem means. Thank you for the post for the email protection. I’ll forward it to others. πŸ™‚

        • I believe in human kindness and good in the world too until something bad happens to prove me wrong. Then my give a dam breaks. Thank you for sharing those links. It’s easy to assume our email connections are private, and everyone is fair and honest like us. I wish that were always true.

  42. As I go alone under tree,
    And in search of his treasures whole
    I thank whatever gods there be
    For Fenn’s unconquerable soul

    • LitterateOne you inspired me…

      So if not me
      Who happened to be
      The one who finds the chest

      I still could say
      I got to play
      And that is always the best πŸ™‚

      • So why ask me where i will go?
        The trove is there for all to reap.
        Answers i confidentially know,
        Now lead me in this hide and seek.

  43. I copied and pasted one of my older poems ” note to cancer ” and it posted..but all of newer poems will paste into the comment box, then when i hit submit it seems to act normal but doesn’t post….I can post short stuff all day long, but not any newer poem of length …….any ideas anybody ?

  44. Cowgirl Spirit…

    Tell me it can’t be done and I will do it

    Tell me the goal is too high and I will reach it

    Put an obstacle in front of me and I will go over it

    Challenge me, dare me, defy me, but never underestimate me

    For anything is possible.

      • Thanks pdenver you always have something positive to say to everyone and a kind word too. Hope you have a great day. PS. Do you know how to change ones avatar? I’d like me to reflect Kedar. lol.

        • Hello Kedar’s Mom. Thank you for your kind words. I greatly appreciate them. I’m not 100% positive, but I think you might be able to click on to your avatar and change it. I notice mine while I’m typing this to you. Just to the left of your email address is your avatar. Click the avatar and I think something might pop up where it gives instructions how to change it. If not, Dal or others may know better. πŸ™‚

    • Love your cow girl spirit Kedar’s mom… Makes me want to pull on the boots and kick some chase booty \_#β€’β€’$$$

  45. Hi Kedar, that attitude mirrors my own. Never underestimate me either or tell me it can’t be done. I will prove em wrong every time. Very nice πŸ™‚

  46. Okay fenn, your poem is tough
    But I found a way to find your stuff

    Not far, but too far is a clue to me
    Far far away in another galaxy.

    Brown paved the way, with his madman scheme
    I’ll find your gold, using the Doc’s time machine

    That’s right, I’m headed to the past
    I’ll find where you wanna take your last gasp

    You can fly planes, well I can McFly too,
    A martyr on a mission, I’ll see ya in a few

    Pushed the wrong button, it’s 1929,
    Just saw skippy build a time machine like mine.

    Somehow he knew, I was coming for your gold.
    Not sure how, because he is only 1 years old.

    This story gets weird, and your not even born yet
    That’s what I get for messing with Texas rednecks

    Pushed another button, forward to nam,
    Waterfalls and headstones is where I am

    I hear a chopper flying above my head
    I move out of the way, to see what you did

    Not a clue here, fast forward again,
    This time I land in two thousand an ten

    I see what you did now, you clever old fart
    Why didn’t I think of that from the start?

    I used your brother to skip all the clues
    Now I’m just waiting to be on the news.

    Skippy built you a time machine so you could goldilocks
    In a far far away galaxy two far to walk.

    • I am impressed Hammer. I actually laughed at a few of your lines… very well done. I’m particularly worried about that one stanza..

      I used your brother to skip all the clues
      Now I’m just waiting to be on the news.

      Since I told you about that one photo of Skippy 😯 I hope you didn’t figure out the 3rd spot!

      • Thanks Will. I don’t have any treasure yet, so you are still in the clear! I’ve shifted my focus to building a time machine though. I figured I’d have the same odds between both activities.:)

      • Thanks Denver! You know when I see the word Denver, it never reminds me of Colorado. It actually makes me think of this cartoon I used to watch as a kid, called Denver the last dinosaur. I miss that show.

        • Hello Hammertime. You’re welcome. I’m glad Colorado comes to mind when you see Denver. It’s beautiful here and I hope you get the chance to come here, if you haven’t already. I watched a lot of cartoons when I was a kid and Denver the Last Dinosaur doesn’t come to mind. I guess it’s time to look it up because you’ve caught my curiosity. I was a Bugs Bunny and Flintstones kind of kid. πŸ™‚

  47. Maybe we should ask Hoyle about HOD and the What ifs of it.

    According to Hoyle

    Sometimes when the game is played and things look dicey,
    a joker shows up and claims all is not so nicey.
    In games, the joker can burst tears forto a winning hand,
    but in life, only tribuelation offers a closing stand.

    So what if it were never so?
    The answer sadly we will never know.
    But, the sun has risen again today
    so I can go out and continue to play.

    If Hoyle can’t sort it out. Who can? I say
    Maybe this guy, a song, and a heart to pray.


    Blessings to, you, and all XX OO (:::::::

  48. ” Spirit Lily ”

    In the woods I walk alone, this trail is hard to see,

    Years of growth , have taken over , from the nearby trees.

    I know this path leads somewhere, I just gotta know,

    Now on my knees and crawling, careful as I go.

    I made it through the thicket, the thorns have brushed my arms,

    Just a few small scratches, they’re really no big harm.

    Then I reach a clearing, and stand up to my feet,

    Oh … the sight before me , everyone should see.

    The sky above was cobalt blue, there’s a warm and gentle breeze,

    The water was free falling , from high above the trees.

    This was the largest waterfall , I’ve seen through out my days,

    All I could do was stand there, with a fixed and steady gaze.

    Just standing there in awe, such an amazing sight to see,

    How the water falls forever, before it splashes by the trees.

    I Had to get a closer look, so I walked across the clearing,

    Standing at the waters edge, now voices I start hearing.

    I quickly turn around , I was startled as can be,

    The clearing it was empty , no one there but me.

    I noticed how the breeze , was cooler than before,

    Then I heard that voice again, calling out once more.

    ” Don’t be scared, I mean no harm, they call me Running Deer”

    ” A hunter for our Indian tribe , it’s glad to have you here ”

    With open ears I listened , as his spirit talked to me,

    He also had a vision , oh what a sight to see.

    He was kneeling by the waters edge, a goose strung on his back,

    Reaching for a water Lily , so he could take it back.

    Peace was all around him , and he as all alone,

    With a Lillie for his wife , he quietly headed home.

    Then the vision disappeared, his voice was soft and low,

    His spirit slowly faded away , again the warm wind blows.

    I looked up to the waterfall, swore no one I’d tell,

    About the hunter spirit, That visited me on that trail.

    If your ever in the woods , and see a trail that’s dim,

    Who knows what you’ll find , waiting at the end.

    As I leave the waterfall , I feel the warmth within,

    Because of ancient spirits, carried in the wind……

    By: Focused

    P.s. The inspiration for this poem came from a painting by:
    George de Forest Brush . The paintings title was ” The Indian and the Lily”
    Take the time to look it up I think you’ll like it too……

    • SL , no words are needed, I’m glad it touched you. Thanks for the link I liked it.
      Have a great day…….. See ya

      ” some words are spoke in anger, some words are spoke in love,

      Some presious words are heard , in silence from above. “

  49. The following poem is by Focused…not by dal. Focused is experiencing problems posting some poems and this is one. So I am posting it to see if there is a problem when I try. dal-



    Just sitting here reflecting back, to legends no longer here,
    With Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, playing to my ears.
    Thinking about the brush strokes, and Mona Lisa’s smile,
    By Leonardo Da Vinci, who’s been a legend for a while.

    Many great poets, dipped their quill, Β in ink wells years ago,
    To create masterpieces like The Raven, by Edgar Allen Poe.
    Thought provoking words, we’ve loved through out the years,
    Mere players upon a worldly stage, written by William Shakespeare.

    Many poets, shared their work, since they first began,
    But Emily Dickinson, in her closet, hid most all of them.
    I could keep on going, about poets and their ways,
    And how they took their thoughts, and wrote them on a page.

    There was also legend Chiefs, that walked upon this land,
    Geronimo and Crazy Horse, were two that walked back then.
    Like Β Sitting Bull they wanted peace, to rest upon their people,
    Not forced away to distant lands, and forced in Spanish steeples.

    George Washington, our founding father, came over on a boat,
    With visions for a better place, that we can call our home.
    There’s legends all around us, Β that made their mark back then,
    Thank you for your visions, your a Legend Forrest Fenn.

    By Focused

      • Thank you spallies, yeah I’m not the greatest when it comes to technical difficulties. . Lol but I figured Dal could handle it….have a great day spallies..see ya

    • Hello Dal. Thank you for helping post this poem for Focused.

      Hello Focused. Another beautiful poem you penned. “Moonlight Sonata” will echo in my mind this morning. Thank you for the smile! πŸ™‚

    • Thank you Dal for your help, for some reason I could not get this one to post. Seems like when there’s a wrinkle in something , you always find a way to iron it out. Thanks for everything you do here Dal. Have a great day and good luck to ya in your chase. Thanks again for the help……. See ya

    • Focused – FWIW – a couple of months ago I was also having problems posting long posts. I figured it was a Linux/Firefox issue. Not sure if it’s been fixed as I have not been on for a loooooong time because of work – crazy hours. Went 27 days straight at one point in the stretch. Thanx Dal for all you do!

  50. Thank you Focused for getting my day off to a great start, These are some of my favorite legends too πŸ™‚

  51. ” Memories of Color ”

    Time it swiftly moves, memories fade away,

    Lost within our minds, covered by the grey.

    Memories that are spoken, brought up now and then,

    Last a little longer, and shapes a subtle grin.

    She was a fellow searcher, some of you did know,

    Even fighting cancer , she had a special glow.

    She had a kindled spirit, you could see it in her smile,

    If given just a half an inch, she’d stretch it for a mile.

    Before the memories fade away, and grey starts moving in,

    Remember our fellow searcher, and how it was back then.

    When many pulled together, on a very special day,

    To show her how we care, and by her all the way.

    Even though she’s left us, I feel as if she’s near,

    Whispering words from heaven, listen and you’ll hear.

    Cheering on the searchers, while on their golden chase,

    I know in heaven she wears, a smile upon her face.

    I just replaced the grey, with colors bright and bold,

    Your memories of color, forever we shall hold.

    Everyone who reads this, remember those who fell,

    Most of all remember, our friend we called “Renelle”.

    By: Focused

    P.s. I just wanted to remind everyone of a dedicated fellow searcher
    Renelle Jacobson ……. Keep her memory alive……. God bless….

    • Great Poetry, Focused. I never had the opportunity to meet Renelle in this life…but I can sense her sweet nature from her photos and the way that others speak about her. It is sad that she is no longer here with us…but she is clearly not forgotten…in this valley of tears. I’m positive she’s in better place.

      Your poem title, “Memories of Color” made me think of this beautiful song by Vangelis.


      I hope that in some future day…when we look back and make an accounting…our memories of joy vastly outnumber our sorrows.

      • Thank youJC1117, I enjoyed the song too.
        Have a great day, and good luck to ya in the chase……see ya

    • Thank you Focused, Renelle was a very special lady who never gave up. As Mr. Fenn said he knew from the first moment he met her. She was so inspirational in so many ways for so many of us.

    • Focussed, that was a very nice way to keep Renelle’s lovely spirit alive here.

      She appeared to be a beauty inside and out. I’m glad Forrest made the heli trip possible for Renelle so she could tuck that memory in her heart for her ride on angels wings up and away to heaven. From stories about her, it was easy to see how much she loved hiking in the mountains. If they are but God’s foot stool’s here, imagine exploring the majestic peaks in Heaven without blisters. If my cancer returns, I will be glad to see Renelle’s smiling face. Maybe we’ll finally be filled with knowledge and wisdom to solve fenn’s poem…but will no longer care about earth’s gold.

      Anyway, good evening to all. I’m taking a rest from blog email.

        • πŸ˜‰ Focussed. I genuinely enjoy your creative ideas and beautiful use of language expressed in poetry. Thanks for taking time to think, create, and write for our enjoyment. They carry me away from the city to another time and place, sometimes humorous, sometimes sentimental, always well spoken.
          (And today they appear to have green smudges) πŸ™‚

  52. Focused –

    What a lovely, lovely poem and tribute.

    Although I am pretty new to the chase, and did not
    know Renelle, through your poetry I feel as though
    I know her spirit.

    KEEP SAFE, and keep writing, and keep searchin’


    • Thanks JD , I’m glad you liked my words. Good luck to you in your chase also. Be careful this summer while chasing your dreams. Until next time.. see ya πŸ™‚

  53. The treasure called to me, I knew that I could find it.
    All the amazing sites to see, I must take off these blinders.
    It would be such a shame to stay so single minded.
    I told them, “Come with me kids, come with me dear!”,
    “Let’s go and get that treasure!”
    So we loaded up the car and we are in San Dieger πŸ™‚

    True story; it’s so beautiful here!

      • Thanks pdenver. You always have a kind word for everyone. Thanks for being you πŸ™‚

    • Good job alopes, I enjoyed that…nice to hear your family is with ya… enjoy your chase and good luck to ya..

      • Thanks focused. We were going to look for the chest but San Diego just called to us instead. I enjoy your poetry πŸ™‚

  54. Thank you alopes , enjoy your time with your family…. that’s where the real treasure is….. until next time.. see ya and good luck.

  55. ” O’ Keeffe and the Jimson Weed ”

    Look within the sunshine, for I will not be found,

    Under rays of moonlight, is where my beauty bounds.

    Waiting in the darkness, with blooms as white as snow,

    Within the desert night, my evil doesn’t show.

    You know me as “Jimson Weed”, or maybe “Devils Snare”,

    Most of those who know me, really do not care.

    Alone here in the darkness, my beauty’s often missed,

    Though I look real tempting, I have an evil kiss.

    One night while I was resting, I opened up my blooms,

    I seen a shadow coming, beneath a full lit moon.

    She came and looked upon me, careful not to touch,

    Then she started painting, oh she cared so much.

    I opened up my blooms, as far as they would go,

    To help her while she painted, my pedals white as snow.

    I knew that she was special, by how she held her brush,

    Carefully she painted me, not in a hurried rush.

    When she finished painting me, I seen her moonlit smile,

    Proudly staring at her work, for just a little while.

    She gathered up her paints, I see her in the moon,

    I hope that she can visit again, sometime very soon.

    Even though my poison, scares everyone away,

    I’ll not forget the night, that painter came my way.

    Then she disappears , in the shadows of some trees,

    I hope that she has painted, a world known masterpiece …..

    By: Focused

    P.s. – the inspiration for this poem came from a Georgia O’Keeffe
    Painting titled ” Jimson Weed / White flower No. 1 ” dated 1932.
    Look it up I think you will like it too. I wanted to visualize the moment
    it was painted, from the flowers Point of view.

    • Thank you for this heartfelt poem Focused – I always wondered what that thorny plant was called – Jimson Weed! The small pods seem soft but the bigger pods felt like unforgiving cactus thorns.

      Don’t tell Dal it was painted in 1932, he has an strong aversion to the number 32 for his own reasons.

      • Thank you so very much for sharing focused… Beautiful as always but a special thank you for the extra information about the name of the plant… It’s amazing what we learn on the chase…:)

        • Your welcome spallies …. Glad you liked it. The plant has other common names too, I just chose Devils snare to use in my poem. Good luck to ya in your chase, until next time…..see ya

      • Lol thanks 23kachinas, ok I’ll not tell dal…lol. I’m glad you liked it. Good luck in your chase…..see ya

    • Nice poem focused. I love jimson weed flowers, they are beautiful and smell nice. Don’t get too close though, they are toxic!

      • Thanks alopes, I tried to capture that in my poem, also to imagine what it was like when o Keeffe painted it. Good luck and be safe…. See ya

    • Well, Hells Bells Focussed, that’s one dangerous flower! She may trumpet her beauty in O’Keeffe’s $44M painting but also causes fatalities – coma and heart failure.

      (Do many teenagers follow the blog?)

      “Top of the mornin” to you folks from the beautiful Emerald Isle celebrating St. Patty’s day.

      • Hello Lia , yes the Jimson weed is toxic. It’s the beauty of Georgia O’Keeffe’s painting that inspired my poem….. Happy st Patrick’s day to you too…good luck on your chase…see ya

    • Hi Focused…like “Her” brushstrokes touched the canvas in your poem…your words have “painted” a moment in my mind.

      I really enjoyed it. Thanks, as always

      • Your welcome Ellen, I’m glad you could see the picture I was trying to paint in words…. I wonder what was the real setting when she painted it? Anyways, thank you for the kind comment….until next time….see ya

  56. Thanks pdenver I’m glad you liked it. Thanks again for the link to the painting. Until next time. See ya…..

  57. An Irish Toast

    “May your home always be too small to hold your friends. Here’s to me, and here’s to you. And here’s to love and laughter. I’ll be true as long as you. And not one moment after.”

    Wishing you a Happy St. Patrick’s Day. πŸ™‚

    • I like that anna….

      ” My cannot’s dwell , on dusty shelves,

      My dreams are plans, within myself.

      Thank you anna, your words ring true,

      Chase your dreams, inside of you……”

      Just messing with ya anna, keep up the good penning , I liked that…. until next time… see ya

  58. “Golden Sunsets”

    Staring at the sunset, his brush within his hand,

    A master of the canvas, known as Thomas Moran.

    Setup on the river bank, Green River I am told,

    A sunset in Wyoming, midst every shade of gold.

    The river in the foreground, a bird is flying low,

    Reflections on the water, add a subtle glow.

    Way off in the distant, rock cliffs standing tall,

    In this golden hour, just posing for us all.

    Gently in his brush strokes, on canvas lay his oils,

    He Captured Mother Nature, no blemishes or spoils.

    The sun was getting lower, few clouds within the skies,

    Thomas he continued on, gold colors in his eyes.

    When he finished painting, dark was closing in,

    Upon his bearded face, he wore a golden grin.

    To some real beauty lies, in petals of a flower,

    To Thomas Moran it lies, in that golden hour.

    Thank you for your travels, with your brush in hand,

    Thank you for you paintings, created for all man.

    Thank you for the images, full of natures power,

    Most of all thank you for, sharing your “Golden Hour”……..

    By: Focused

    P.s.- the inspiration for this poem came from a painting by Thomas
    Moran called “The Golden Hour” . Date 1875 . Look it up , I think you will
    Like it too……see ya

    • Focused – Nice poem and painting “The Golden Hour”

      I met the wife of Dennis an artist that makes glass + 24k gold sculptures. He makes animal shapes and sometimes uses manzanita wood as a stand for his creations. He is sick right now so they could probably use some more sales. The prices are reasonable $22+ for each piece.

      If your in the CA or NV area of the art fairs go find yourself one of his treasures. I found a set of 3 hummingbirds to take home.


      From his website:
      We are the original creators of Golden Glass Sculptures. The radiant shades of colors, flowing in brilliant hues, are created by applying pure gold to molten glass. The unique way we have discovered to apply 24kt gold to molten glass reflects the true colors that are found in pure gold. We get up to seven different colors from the gold. All the blue, purple, lavender, aqua, pink and red colors are actually gold.

      • Thank you 23kachinas , I’m glad you enjoyed it… I hope he gets feeling better, his glass work is amazing..good luck to ya in your chase…until next time , see ya….

    • Focused,,, you are great inspiration, thanks for all your inspirational words πŸ™‚

      • Your welcome CindyM. Good to hear from ya my friend. I’m glad you like my words. Take care….see ya

  59. ” First Aid Kit ”

    Walking through the desert, sand beneath my feet,

    My steps are getting slower, dragging from the heat.

    The sun is high above me, there is no wind at all,

    In my ears I hear, the vultures as they call.

    Lost out in this desert, I need to find some shade,

    I mumble to myself, about choices I have made.

    Up ahead I see a rock, where I can rest my legs,

    This heat is gonna kill me, help me God I beg.

    I know that I am in this mess, all because of me,

    I walked into this desert, not prepared as I should be.

    I know that I may surely die, here in this desert sand,

    Reach out God and help me, I need your guiding hand.

    I continued walking, then to my knees I fell,

    Slumped and looking down, I do not want to fail.

    Then suddenly I feel a breeze, brush across my cheek,

    Alone here in the desert, a voice begins to speak.

    ” Raise up to your feet child, and take my helping hand,

    Close your eyes and follow me, I’ll lead you from this sand”.

    I raised up to my feet, the cool wind starts to blow,

    With all my faith in God I walked, where his voice told me to go.

    I stumbled through the desert sand, with his guiding touch,

    “Why me lord ?” I asked , “why would you care so much ?”

    Then I topped a gentle rise, and I was looking down,

    Staring at the cars go by, in a busy town.

    The tears fill up my eyes, they’re running down my cheek,

    I survived the desert, because I listened to God speak.

    Even though I felt alone, there was always two ,

    If your in your desert, he’s also there with you.

    If your going hiking, please always go prepared,

    It will surely help you , when your alone and scared.

    Take some time to ponder, right there where you sit,

    God’s the most important thing, in your first aid kit……

    By: Focused

    P.s.- I just wanted to remind everyone to be safe, and go
    Prepared this summer. Take a first aid kit . It’s better to have
    it and not need it ,Than to need it and not have it……. God bless

      • You speechless pdenver ? …… Just messing with ya. Thank you for your kind words….be safe out there.k good luck to ya in your chase….see ya my friend..

        • Hello Focused. I knew you were going to comment about that. I was just waiting for you. πŸ˜‰

          You deserve the kind words, my friend. I wish you the best of luck in your chase and hope you’ll be safe, too. πŸ™‚

  60. My high school friend who recently lost her husband posted this, I thought it was beautiful:

    β€œEveryone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you’re there.

    It doesn’t matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that’s like you after you take your hands away. The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said. The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime.”

    ― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

  61. Focused, thanks for your poem “The Golden Hour” which was hugely enjoyable in a quiet way. The Green River rock formations look spectacular. When I looked up Mount Moran, which is a different location, it quickly went to the top of my bucket list. Look at this jaw-dropping marvel gaze.


    While we wait for spring/summer to get out again, scenic photos do me a world of good.

    • Thanks Anna for your kind comment…. I love the pic of mount Moran . As far as I’m concerned it doesn’t get any better than that….thank you for the link. Be safe this summer while you chase your dreams… Until next time Anna, see ya

  62. Focused, once again amazing. Thanks again. So many talented people post here. Ahh the power of poetry. Thanks everyone.

      • Focused, I believe you are one of the kindest most courteous people on this blog. Which I’m sure makes you one of the most popular. Everyone enjoys your thoughtful input.
        Thanks again

        • Thank you again strawshadow for the compliment. There are alot of kind people here, a great bunch of fenners.you being one too strawshadow. As far as thoughtful input……like I’ve said , before I got involved in the chase, I never wrote a poem before,Now I’m just enjoying the chase that Forrest has given us. I am glad you lIke my words….be safe this summer, and good luck to ya strawshadow while you chase your dreams…..until next time ,see ya

  63. “Lonely Dreams”

    Neath skies of black, I dreamt ,

    Stars they flicker up above.

    Here in my one man tent,

    Just living what I love.

    Awaken from my peaceful dreams,

    I lie there looking out.

    Through netting with no seams,

    My mind it drifts about.

    Many nights I’ve pitched,

    My tent upon these grounds.

    Heard movements in the sticks,

    And other night time sounds.

    But tonight a erie feeling,

    There are no sounds at all.

    No unknown sounds a squealing,

    No lonely hoot owl call.

    Thinking about the “chase”,

    And the poem, line by line.

    And where his special place,

    Could stand the test of time.

    The “chest” is out there too,

    Like me it sits alone.

    Waiting for me or you,

    To proudly take it home.

    I need to get some rest,

    Daytime will be long.

    My “solve” put to the test,

    I hope that I’m not wrong.

    I close my eyes, and drift away,

    In dreams , I quickly fall.

    Beneath the hue of “Milky Way”,

    A hoot owl starts to call…………..

    By: Focused

      • Your welcome Ed. Be careful this summer, wherever you pitch your tent. Good luck to you in your chase…see ya

      • Thank you BW. You can tell I’m ready for the warm summer nights…lol
        Glad you liked it……until next time……see ya

    • Happy Easter Focused, nice poem…hope you get outside into Nature today to see some surprises.

      • That is the first time I’ve seen that 23kachinas , it was great.. . I laughed…. thanks for the moment… πŸ™‚ this one is for you 23kachinas……….

        ” What Hair ”

        Sitting on the front row, with Elvis in my view,

        singing about a bald head, then I looked at you.

        With a laughing crowd, I removed my hair,

        Swaying with his music, I waved it in the air.

        Elvis he was singing , are you lonesome tonight ?

        my wife she started blushing, oh it was a sight.

        I waved my hair while singing, you only live life once.

        even though they looked at me, as if I were a dunce.

        23kachinas, thanks for the laugh my friend,

        Times like these are priceless, I’ll live them till the end.

        It’s more than just our money, in our bank account,

        enjoying life with humor, is what life’s all about….

        By: Focused

  64. WATER

    Before I was born I was water.
    I thought of this sitting on a blue
    chair surrounded by pink, red, white
    hollyhocks In the yard in front
    of my green studio. There are conclusions
    to be drawn but I can’t do it anymore.
    Born man, child man, singing man,
    dancing man, loving man, old man,
    dying man. This is a round river
    and we are her fish who become water.

    – Jim Harrison

    I like to think Oceanic thoughts.

  65. Hello to all my fellow poetry lovers. I ran across this lovely poem today and want to share it with you. Enjoy…

    If – by Rudyard Kipling

    If you can keep your head when all about you
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
    If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too;
    If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
    Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

    If you can dreamβ€”and not make dreams your master;
    If you can thinkβ€”and not make thoughts your aim;
    If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same;
    If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
    Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

    If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
    And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breathe a word about your loss;
    If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,
    And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: β€˜Hold on!’

    If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
    Or walk with Kingsβ€”nor lose the common touch,
    If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much;
    If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
    Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
    Andβ€”which is moreβ€”you’ll be a Man, my son!

    • Wow…. Thanks C.B. I really enjoyed that. I hope you have a great day…..good luck on your chase…until next time …see ya

  66. 1788 William Cowper

    The Dog and the Water Lily
    (Not a fable)

    THE noon was shady, and soft airs
    Swept Ouse’s silent tide,
    When, ‘scap’d from literary cares,
    I wander’d on his side

    My spaniel, prettiest of his race,
    And high in pedigree,
    (Two nymphs, adorned with ev’ry grace,
    That spaniel found for me)

    Now wanton’d lost in flags and reeds,
    Now starting into sight
    Pursued the swallow o’er the meads
    With scarce a slower flight.

    It was the time when Ouse display’d
    His lilies newly blown;
    Their beauties I intent survey’d,
    And one I wish’d my own.

    With cane extended far I sought
    To steer it close to land;
    But still the prize, though nearly caught,
    Escap’d my eager hand.

    Beau marked my unsuccessful pains
    With fixt consid’rate face,
    And puzzling set his puppy brains
    To comprehend the case.

    But with a chirrup clear and strong,
    Dispersing all his dream,
    I thence withdrew, and follow’d long
    The windings of the stream.

    My ramble finished, I return’d.
    Beau trotting far before
    The floating wreath again discern’d,
    And plunging left the shore.

    I saw him with that lily cropp’d
    Impatient swim to meet
    My quick approach, and soon he dropp’d
    The treasure at my feet.

    Charm’d with the sight, the world, I cried,
    Shall hear of this thy deed,
    My dog shall mortify the pride
    Of man’s superior breed;

    But, chief, myself I will enjoin,
    Awake at duty’s call,
    To show a love as prompt as thine
    To Him who gives me all.


  67. I knew if I were to look in here
    I would most likely find…
    Fitting words so very dear
    To sooth my weary mind…

    Thank you everyone for writting and sharing such beautiful thoughts…

  68. Although it may seem
    I’ve been out of touch
    I’m still in the dream
    And I miss you all much

    Sometimes you wonder
    How you got there
    You want to crawl under
    a rock somewhere

    On one hand I weigh tomorrow
    the other holds today
    And sometimes I borrow
    To even with yesterday

    I’ve been away, yes
    I’ve been quite lost
    Its just a turn in life I guess
    And it’s come at quite a cost

    My tomorrow hand is weakening
    From the weight I’ve invested
    So I’ll soon stop the weeping
    Can’t help but feel tested

    Alas, and oh, I won’t let go
    I have way too much to do
    my answers I already know
    IL make my dreams come true!

    Focused, spallies, 23k, pdenver, cindym, lia, et al, I’ve read all your beautiful words, and read them again. Miss you guys, thanks for holding up the pen! πŸ™‚

    • Alas my friend…… You had me worried…..glad you could share your words…I liked your poem…..always a pleasure to read your penning jdiggins…..

      I looked into my crystal ball,

      Nothing there, no friends at all.

      Smoke it circles near the sides,

      They have left, they gone to hide.

      I place my ball , upon the shelf,

      Walk to the kitchen, to feed myself.

      I opened the door, and before my eyes,

      My friends jumped up, and yelled surprise.

      Jdiggins was holding, a cake in hand,

      Room full of friends, oh how grand.

      I never heard them, they were quite as can be,

      Waiting in silence, just for me.

      One thing I learned, and with you I will share,

      When your friends away, there really right there….

      Good to hear from ya my friend…….good luck to you while you chase your dreams…….see ya

    • Hello Jdiggins.

      Jdiggins, we’ve missed you,
      and your extra warm smile.
      Your pen may have rested;
      Yes, it has been a while.

      We’ll lift you up higher,
      when you’re feeling a bit lost.
      Friends tend to do this,
      at no extra cost.

      The answers you know,
      have been found in nine clues.
      Have fun with your search;
      May all your dreams come true.

  69. Good evening Jdiggins, I’m sorry you are struggling. You have online friends here who miss you! Keep your eyes up… focus with hope on peace. Struggle is never enjoyable. Do you have family to lean upon?

  70. Focused, 23k , lia, you are so kind.
    Trust me, IL be ok, been here before.
    You are always on my mind,
    And in my heart ever more.

    I have a few family close by, but I’m in a situation that does not allow much contact with anyone.
    Maybe I have gone nuts !
    Like I said. I’m a big girl. I can make it, either way, this funk will not stay.

    Please keep writing your words all…
    It is truly helpful.
    All my best, I have to sign off for now.
    Until next time…see ya! πŸ™‚ xo

  71. Great job Focused, on your poetry, as well as keeping us focused!

    “Surprise,” I shouted. You’re never alone.

    You’re as close as this room, no need for a phone.

    When you think you’re alone, I’m always right here.

    Just call out my name, I’ll show up with cheer.

    I walked to your shelf and gave that ball a probe.

    No wonder you missed us. It’s really a snow globe πŸ™‚

    Great job everyone, I love reading all the wonderful poetry.

    • Thanks CindyM…….I went back to double check….yep your right…a snow globe…wonder where the crystal one is ? πŸ™‚ humm …..anyways thanks again my friend……see ya

  72. Within the Eyes of Solitude written by my friend Theo

    Within the eyes of Solitude lies a distant plane of existence. It is one barren of sympathy, remorse, laughter and love. There is nothing but a blank void of loneliness. If you look closely within the dark recesses of her mind, you will find memories of happier days filled with laughter and sunshine. Now, only misery fills the empty spaces.

    Within the eyes of Solitude you can see the shadow of her gentle heart. She reaches out to those who have lost and gathers them to her. Standing by their side, she keeps them warm and safe from harm of other’s twisted words and vicious actions.

    Within the eyes of Solitude lies a vast world that only she can see. It is a world known only by her and those she chooses. Solitude is often misunderstood. But then again, so are we all.
    I love and miss you my friend.

      • thank you for the kind words pd and cindy. she is one of those special people you meet in life and hold in your heart.

        • Magic 8 thank you for sharing… Theo sounds very intense and wise… I hope he is not looking for the treasure πŸ™‚

          Yes, Cindy very inSIGHTful lol…

    • Magic8, your thoughts of friend Theo reminded me of this poem…

      William Wordsworth, 1770 – 1850

      This is the spot:β€”how mildly does the sun
      Shine in between the fading leaves! the air
      In the habitual silence of this wood
      Is more than silent: and this bed of heath,
      Where shall we find so sweet a resting-place?
      Come!β€”let me see thee sink into a dream
      Of quiet thoughts,β€”protracted till thine eye
      Be calm as water when the winds are gone
      And no one can tell whither.β€”my sweet friend!
      We two have had such happy hours together
      That my heart melts in me to think of it.

      • Thank you Anna for the words of William Wordsworth …..I really liked them…..until next time…see ya

      • you’re welcome and thank you for sharing anna. i’m a very happy person the vast majority of the time. being touched by sadness helps keep me centered.

        i’ll share one more poem from my friend

    • Thanks Magic 8 for sharing Theo’s words, I really enjoyed them…..good luck to you in your chase…see ya

      • you’re welcome focused. it would make Theo happy to hear that her words are well received.

  73. Roses are Red
    Forrest wears Blue
    I sure hope that I have a clue πŸ™‚ πŸ˜‰

    Dal let’s keep it real
    Because it’s been a Thrill πŸ™‚
    Ha ha ha .

  74. ” The Trail Of Tears 1838-39 ”

    Upon a mountain trail I walked, I left my car behind,

    Not caring where I went, not knowing what I’d find.

    For hours I walked along this trail, my mind it drifts away,

    To another time, of a forgotten distant day.

    I stopped upon the trail, and then removed my boots,

    So I could feel the history, bare feet of Cherokee roots.

    Many walked this very trail, carrying food in bowls,

    Babies on their back, pride deep within their souls.

    I take the time to pause, and smell all the aromas,

    Smelt also by the Cherokee, on their way to Oklahoma.

    Some elders couldn’t make it, to weak to walk this path,

    Months of walking westward, after a bloody wrath.

    Many fell upon this trail, never to rise again,

    They left this trail in spirit, carried in the wind.
    Those who sadly finished, had tears within their eyes,

    Placed on a reservation, but not to their surprise.

    Up ahead I see a rock, to rest my aching feet,

    They too have sat upon that rock, heads hung in defeat.

    History isn’t always, as pleasant as can be,

    But history none the less, here for you and me.

    I hope that we have learned, from our history way back then,

    Never again to cause, more spirits in the wind.

    It’s time for me to turn around, back to the car I’ll go,

    The air is getting cooler, the sun is getting low.

    If I could say one thing, to all your listening ears,

    Never forget the Cherokee and their swollen eyes with tears…………

    By: Focused

  75. The Kiss by Theo

    A touch
    Courses up my hand
    Into my arm
    My vision swims
    The room tilts
    And all that I see
    Is you

    My lips part
    Wanting to speak
    Wanting to touch
    Wanting to feel
    As I have not felt
    In too many years

    Your arm
    Reaches for mine
    A gentle touch
    Upon the elbow
    You lean closer
    My heart is all I hear
    Your eyes all I see
    Your touch all I feel
    And I close my eyes
    Part my lips
    Take a deep breath
    To still this reaction
    This primal yearning
    That overcomes me

    I feel your breath
    Taste your lips
    As your arm circles around my waist
    And you pull me to you
    Closer to you
    As I have never been
    Never dreamed
    Never wanted
    Until the gentle touch
    Of your hand
    Upon mine
    That awoke this inside of me
    This passion
    This yearning
    This never ending pain
    That has been healed
    By you
    For you
    From you

    Your hand
    Reaching for me
    Solidifying me
    Keeping me
    Touching me
    As you move
    Up my spine
    To my shoulders
    And the curve of my neck
    For there to be more
    Yet knowing
    That this is all we have
    All we need
    All we could be

    Your lips
    Your warmth
    And I hope
    That this kiss
    So simple
    Will never end
    And your touch
    Will never cease
    And this passion
    This reality
    Will never end

    • Magic 8, Theo don’t great on that one too….beautiful…..good luck to you while you chase your dreams…see ya

      • Thank you both. That’s the last one I will post here. Too far off topic from the chase blog. This is my favorite poem from her.

  76. I fell that some of you will appreciate this EA poem:

    Benedicto: May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous,

    leading to the most amazing view.

    May your rivers flow without end,

    meandering through pastoral valleys tinkling with bells,

    past temples and castles and poets’ towers

    into a dark primeval forest

    where tigers belch and monkeys howl,

    through miasmal and mysterious swamps

    and down into a desert of red rock,

    and down again into a deep vast ancient unknown chasm

    where bars of sunlight blaze on profiled cliffs,

    where deer walk across the white sand beaches,

    where storms come and go

    as lightning clangs upon the high crags,

    where something strange and more beautiful

    and more full of wonder than

    your deepest dreams waits for you–

    beyond that next turning of the canyon walls.

    Edward Abbey

  77. ” Slow Down ”

    It’s time to take it slow, each and every day,

    Not to zip and go, like a nascar on your way.

    Who can take it slow? You asked while passing by.

    You should someday know, you’ll love it if you try.

    Are the things around you, quickly flying past ?

    It’s time to live life slower , not to live so fast.

    Who wants their days to fly? not me, that’s for sure.

    They go quick enough, in slowness I’ll endure.

    Think about my words to you, the choice is yours to make.

    You will see the beauty, as your life you slowly take.

    Are you really living? Your throttle belongs to you………

    By: Focused

    P.s. If you read down the first word of every sentence it reads –
    ” it’s not who you are, it’s who they think you are ”

    Slow down and smell the sunshine my friends………..

    • Hello Focused. You’re quite talented with your penning. I like it. Just this evening, my youngest daughter and I were talking about how quickly time is going by. She’ll be graduating and “flying the coop” soon after.

    • Loved your poetic advice Focussed. Today, I actually exited the rat race and lived at a slower pace…enjoying every moment of sunshine upon my face.

      Jim Croce’s ‘Time in a Bottle’ is one of the best songs ever written. Thanks pdenver. Also enjoyed Paul Anka’s Memories. Thanks all friends here for capping off a memorable day – minus the nascar helmet πŸ˜‰

    • Thanks Focused, I took your advice and read your poem, slowly, could have been my connection though.

    • I’ve enjoyed all the song “links” above. Thank you.

      SL…I saw a Paul Anka concert years ago with a good friend…now deceased at the young age of just 60. (I also still have my Paul Anka “45’s” with jackets.)

      For me…’taking time to smell the roses’ has meaning.

  78. Thanks SL I liked that one too….it goes with my poem, if you live to fast you won’t remember all the memories of your life…….you gotta slow down and soak in each day…thanks again SL…good luck to you while you chase your dreams…see ya

  79. Sitting here waiting on the weather.
    Little to do, I’d try to be clever.
    I began by seeking Mr. Fenn’s riches
    because i’m in need of new britches.
    But the sad look in his eye’s,
    To dig where a grave lies.
    I had to do what i could,
    For a man that wanted to do good.
    Warm Waters, my trivia players never got.
    Silence is Golden. listen one might learn alot.
    I worked my clue’s, found a blaze.
    Sorry to say no chest in my gaze.
    Speechless and beside myself, I am now hooked.
    New words more clues, my next outing booked.
    If good luck will be with me.
    I’ll honor his wish for all to see.
    Don’t rush into the chase.
    Be safe in seeking the case.
    To all that are Great web hosts.
    Forrest, Dal and Jenny Thank You for the posts.

    The White Bear

  80. Good morning all. Speaking of songs, this one, to me, embodies a central theme in Forrest’s poem: the ones he loves (his family and friends) are safe in his heart, and the heart or spirit go on forever.


    • Hello Anna. Your words brought tears to my eyes and the song fits them beautifully. If one can step back, one can see your words to be true.

    • A simple TY from me also Anna…I can only imagine Celine’s emotions singing this song now…after the death of her beloved husband this year.

      Seeing…and feeling the words also.

  81. Amelikeyou Earheart

    A me like you captured our ears and our hearts that we may one day fly to find our own rainbow.

    I hope they pick you for the $10 because in my book your a 10.

  82. Good question about clouds. Eric Sloane painted clouds and was the first weatherman.

  83. ” Stallion Heart ”

    While riding through the desert, I seen him standing there,

    Head up high and staring, beside him stood his mare .

    This stallion was a beauty, he was a strawberry roan,

    If I could ever rope him, I’d try to take him home.

    Then one day while riding, I was resting by a rock,

    I seen the stallion coming, with his lovely stock.

    I dallied up my rope, three wraps around the horn,

    Loop in hand I waited, he’s gonna be a storm.

    I knew my throw was crucial, I only had one shot,

    Around my head one time, then I gave it all I’ve got.

    I looped the mighty stallion, and yes he was a storm,

    With my horse he drug me, through the cactus’s and thorns.

    When we finished spinning, he stood and looked at me,

    As we rode back to the house, he was skittish as can be.

    Day by day I worked with him, I slowly gained his trust,

    With a saddle on his back, it’s time to break or bust.

    I led him from the round pen , into the desert red,

    The room I knew I needed, his ears laid on his head.

    My left foot in the stirrup, left hand upon the horn,

    I swing my right foot over, it’s time to ride the storm.

    He didn’t disappoint me, he blew up like a bomb,

    With one hand I had the reins, gripped tightly in my palm.

    We bucked around the desert, me and that strawberry roan,

    Then he finally gave in, we ran back to my home.

    That’s been twenty years ago, I’ve rode him every day,

    Oh the miles we’ve covered, in work and also play.

    No money could ever buy him, he has no price at all,

    This stallion is my best friend, he’s at my beckon call.

    I know our days are numbered, and someday we must part,

    I know I’ll never replace, this stallion in my heart……………….

    By: Focused

    My inspiration for this poem came from a painting by Charles
    Marion Russell titled – A Bad Hoss , Dated-1904. I hope you like it
    See ya………

      • Thanks pdenver……have a bucking good time on your chase…… Thanks for the link my friend…..see ya

        • You’re welcome, my friend. I’m not sure if I want to go back on a horse. The first and last time I was on one, I gave the poor horse mixed signals. Going down a very steep, rocky mountain, I felt as if I was going to slide off the saddle. I ended up leaning back against his back, pulling on the reigns and slighting kicking the horse’s side to move. I think the horse should have bucked me off and tell me, “No fools allowed on my back.” lol

  84. My father who is known as a skilled cattleman in our home town used to ride the “Old Wooded Mare” and complain about her, she had her own mind and nothing made him and Grandpa madder. I never had an issue with her, I’ve ridden many a trail chasing cattle in my teens upon that glorious animal. I miss her sometimes when I’m home riding the range in four wheels.

    That mare was my Modigliam (‘aka’ favorite horse) and I’m glad they didn’t sell her. Sometimes I go visit her bones by the old indian trail no one knows about but me and my family. Also buried there was Chief (dad’s favorite paint horse) and many animals that fell ill to various misfortures of farm life.

    • Good horses leave fond memories, thanks 23kachinas for sharing your memory. Something about a horse you break yourself that makes them more special…….good luck to you in your chase…until next time….see ya

  85. Focussed & 23kachinas – thanks for sharing great memories, poems & artwork. I’ve never had a pony or roped a stallion; so it’s entertaining to hear your stories. CMR’s terrific storytelling ability is evident in his clever titles. He occasionally painted in a small log studio at the corner of 6th & Rodney St. in Helena, Mt. My grandfather was a young man who delivered Western Union telegrams at the time. He knew Charlie Russell.

  86. Everyone knows a Joker, Nobody seems a Fool.
    If they are one and the same then what are the card playing rules?

    Canasta anyone?

  87. Poker or Canasta?
    Which rules Fenn’s game?
    His epigraph guarantees
    no loot or fame.
    If it’s thrills you seek,
    shuffle the deck.
    Adventure inherent,
    So, what the heck.

    2 bit rules
    For C A N A S T A:
    Two decks shuffled fair.
    Six players roped in pairs.
    Black twos cinch the snares.
    Red threes light the wild scene.
    Opon a partner you silently lean.
    Collecting two dirty and two clean,
    With the stack, surely you’ll meld,
    Oops, not what my partner held.
    Seven magically sets the run;
    But a pair needs 4 to Be done.
    As your hand grows shallow,
    One question is allowed…
    Partner, may I go out?
    If the answer is no,
    Please don’t pout.
    Patience pays

  88. Okey dokey Focused. It’s meant to formed in the shape of a “bluff” or mountain.

      • Hey there SL, I’m hanging in there, although disappointed that there won’t be any searching for me this season. How are you?

    • Looks like a bluff to me…… πŸ™‚ keep up the good penning Anna . Until next time ..see ya

  89. ” Family Treasures ”

    Mist in a meadow of green, dew upon my boots,

    Searching for my past, home of ancestor roots.

    Alone I tramped in memory, old letters in my hand,

    She talks about the creek, and the rolling of the land.

    In words she spills her memories , neath a huge oak tree,

    On a handmade blanket, she was happy as can be.

    Up ahead I see the tree, it’s very large in size,

    Then I finally seen it, I can’t believe my eyes.

    The rocks looked like a monument, where the house had stood,

    So happy that I found it, I wondered if I could.

    I sat upon a flat rock, that use to be her steps,

    Staring at the chimney, the inside was jet black.

    I reached into my pocket, one final note from her,

    She talks about her family, and the fighting that occurred .

    And how they fought them off, with every ounce they tried,

    One by one, her family fell, to the floor and died.

    She gathered up their valuables, placed in an old tin box,

    And hid them in the fireplace, beneath the blackened rocks.

    I looked up to the fireplace, I felt her presence there,

    Afraid to go and look, all I could do was stare.

    Now the sun is high, and the mist has gone away,

    I found the courage to look, I bowed my head and prayed.

    The picture in the letter, shows each and every stone,

    Two rocks from the front, is where her box is shown.

    Standing by the fireplace, I see the rock she tells,

    Gently I removed it, then to my knees I fell.

    An old tin box before me, from years and years ago,

    I feel my ancestors near me , I feel as if they know.

    I opened up the box, wonder filled my eyes,

    I felt just like a two year old, with their Cracker Jack surprise.

    The box was filled with coins, a pocket watch lay on the top,

    Right beside a locket, I knelt down at that spot.

    I open up the locket, two pictures I seen inside,

    my great, great grandmother Elsie, the other her husband Clyde .

    Grandpa Clyde was holding, the watch from way back then,

    Grandma Elsie was wearing, her locket with a grin.

    I do believe they know, that family found their box,

    Hidden for years and years, inside these family rocks.

    I say my words of thanks, to my ancestors of long ago,

    I pause beside the oak tree, last look before I go.

    You have family too, their way back in your roots,

    Maybe you should visit them, get mist upon your boots.

    An old home place awaits you, it needs you standing there,

    Please take the time to show, your ancestors that you care.

    The sun has disappeared, I have no time to stall,

    While leaving I hear the sound, of a hoot owl’s lonely call ……….

    By: Focused

    • Focused…I read your poem over and over…I truly felt it.

      Sadly…I will have to travel abroad to feel the experience of your ‘moment’ someday for myself.

      Perhaps…sometime in the future…my grandchildren’s grandchildren will experience your poem here at our home. I will have to create that special “box” and directions or a map for the chosen person to find in time. To touch, to see, to feel…

      Thank you.

      • Thank you Ellen for your kind words… I know your grandchildren’s grandchildren will enjoy the moment that you prepared for them…..I’m glad I could inspire you to create your box….good luck to you in your chase Ellen. …until next time… see ya my friend….

  90. ” Tired ”

    I’m gonna keep this short and sweet,

    my back is tired, so are my feet …….

    • Focussed, you deserve a spa day. Thanks for another poetic story…it reminded me of my great grandmother’s gold locket which is a treasured bookmark tied on a ribbon.

      • your welcome lia . I’m glad I could spark a memory of your great grandmother’s locket. As for the spa….. that would be nice. πŸ™‚ have a great day lia…. see ya my friend

  91. ANYWAY

    In the end you put on your hat and spurs,
    AND you end up Dancing with the Stars anyway.


    – Live each day with honesty and courage.
    – Take pride in your work.
    – Always do your best.
    – Stay curious and open minded.
    – Study hard and learn all you can.
    – Do what has to be done and finish what you start.
    – Be tough, but fair.
    – When you make a promise, keep it.
    – Be honest in thought. word and deed.
    – Practice tolerance and understanding.
    – Be willing to stand up for what’s right.
    – Be an excellent steward of the land and its animals.
    – Put the welfare your family above your own.
    – Remember that some things aren’t for sale.

    • Very well said 23kachinas… if everyone would follow the cowboy code of ethics the world would be a much better place…. thank you my friend….

    • An excellent list 23kachinas. Being raised around cowboys in Wyoming, one more thing stood out about their conduct. They stand up for their friends – and will stop others from speaking poorly of friends behind their back. Similar to what soldiers in the field do to protect their wingman or platoon.
      Gossip serves no one – except the old biddies.

  92. ” Your World ”

    Darkness hides a shadow, lightness shows its shape,

    Wine hangs prematurely , on vineyard vines of grape.

    Sun it lays it’s head at night, in morning it will rise ,

    Love within your heart, will shine through caring eyes.

    Newborn baby crying, turns old in latter years,

    Lonely bells of silence, ring loudly in your ears.

    Midst all your learning days , wisdom finds a way,

    Springtime winds will blow, bringing thunder on the way.

    Your life is charging at you, like a running bull,

    Make your wine with grapes, until your glass is full.

    Share a passing smile, while sipping from your glass,

    Enjoy your world around you, before it becomes your past………

    By: Focused

  93. Lovely words, well thought out, and wonderfully phrased.

    Good luck in your search – and STAY SAFE


    • Thanks JD I’m glad you like my words… good luck to you also, and likewise… Be Safe yourself… see ya my friend…..

  94. A spoof: The poem, Weekly Words and Questions

    Mary, Mary…you’re quite contrary
    Is it Beary, Beery, Berry, or Bury?
    A name, a noun, or a verb to seek
    So, why is it that I am weak?

    Sing “A-Tisket, A-Tasket…”
    Baby “Biebs” is in a basket
    Over the lazy dog…jumps the quick red fox
    So, why is she looking outside the box?

    Ashes, Ashes…do we all go down?
    Doesn’t Horton hear a sound go round?
    London Bridges is falling…I see France
    So, why is it…would you care to dance?

    • My brain is tired outside of the box. Now, I’d like to nap with that cuddly little fox.

      Please wake me when the music starts. Whether Wyoming or Santa Fe, I’d love to dance. That card is never full, if you can’t wake me, give my toes a pull.

      Happy, happy, happy weekend all>

    • With a pretty name like Ellen, you must agree…it’s important to find the missing E.
      If it flies on past, you’ll be wandering. Quickly grab that banana. Voila! you have to be fast!
      Thank you Vanna for turning a vowel. Now all I must do is locate a trowel. A collection of 4 shovels I have acquired. When the number reaches 6 I may retire. My next foray will come one day as I travel a solemn road, down the halls of a museum bearing heavy loads.

    • Thanks Ellen I enjoyed that… keep up the great penning… until next time.. see ya πŸ™‚

  95. ” My Perfect Solve ”

    I’ve done it tired, I too am weak,

    For Years I’ve read , the words that he speaks.

    I’ve tried to make , some sense of it,

    Then all at once, my solve it just fits.

    I pack my bags , in ten minutes flat,

    Grabbed my keys, and my Favorite ole hat.

    Say goodbyes , then shoot out the door,

    Going to get , his treasures galore.

    Hours I drive, with glorious thoughts,

    Thinking of all, the haves and have nots.

    I finally arrive, after driving all night,

    I Sleep in my truck, just waiting on light.

    The sun comes up, at the trail head I start,

    I walk down the trail, I’m feeling real smart.

    I get to my spot, can’t believe what I see,

    Others are there, just looking like me.

    A couple was sitting, atop of my blaze,

    Taking some selfies, with smiles on their face.

    I held my composure , while cutting my eyes,

    I Looked high and low, for his gracious prize.

    Returned to my truck, no treasure in hand,

    Feeling defeat, my solve was so grand.

    Many hours I drive, Just thinking a lot ,

    Word by word, the nine clues that I’ve got.

    I pull in my drive, after driving all day,

    Plop on my couch, now what can I say ?

    I’ve done it tired, I too am weak,

    Still scratching my head, at the words he speaks………..

    By: Focused

      • Thanks JD.. I’ve – been there done that – 21 times to the Rocky Mountains …maybe number 22 will be the one…. Good luck to you in your chase. Until next time see ya

          • Thanks CindyM, well I live 800 miles away from the rocky mountains, and I have taken 21 trips. So far , I have logged over 40,000 miles in my attempt to solve the poem. Who knows? I may have another 100,000 to go. but one thing for sure. I’m having a blast in doing so. and somewhere in the middle of all this I seem to find time to write a few poems for everyone to enjoy…..I believe the phrase ” I’ve done it tired” is beginning to sink in….. Thanks CindyM for all your kind words…. see ya my friend…. πŸ™‚

  96. Thank you Focused for another perfect poem (My Perfect Solve).

    Besides our journeys to our special search spots…I suspect Forrest knew he could also, through his poem, be reaching across many miles to give a journey/search of sorts into ourselves.

    While striving to solve/decode a particular part of the poem that has eluded explanation…one can accidentally/serendipitously unfold the key to the meaning/reason for a life event that has for so long…shadowed one…and even to the point of being overwhelming/suffocating. Hoping that understanding is a bond to final closure.

    And also…thank you Focused, pdenver and Anna for the nice comments above.

  97. Along my journey I saw two guys fly fishing.
    My rod, reel, and license missing.
    Artistry in motion as they cast out their line,
    No gear means fillet of fish is where I’ll dine.

    With a boat, dad and I would go fishing.
    The good ole days I am missing.
    Mom understood us gone when she woke,
    Six kids can eat alot of fish, that no joke.

    Ice fishing he later became very fond of.
    Built a big shack we were all proud of.
    The good old days I am missing,
    Just not the same when I go fishing.

    • Hello whitebear. Your poem brings a tear to my eyes. Your dad continues to fish with you. Keep the memories alive and smile when you cast your line.

    • whitebear,

      “In solitude of a frozen lake , your mind can drift away,

      To memories upon that ice , is your best catch of the day……”

      see ya …

  98. Very nice poem whitebear,,,it makes me smile thinking about how much time dads spend baiting hooks, untangling lines and such. Just knowing that you loved that special time proves he made a wise investment πŸ™‚

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