renewal

Manzanita tines

blacksmith forged bowers starred with

morning glory braids

The 2008 Arroyo Seco/Indians fire burned these river canyons barren.  The morning glories are covering the hillsides now, in green and white.

-

Chimera lost, adventure won

-
A finite line:

finding time.

Timeless climbs

where lessons chime.

Chimera met

as merely a fret.

Fires lit

as youths sit.

Skits read,

once hunger fed.

Freed stars,

asleep in snores,

To swim with snakes

in ice cold lakes.

Like it or not:

rashes? bites? hot?

Not lost, what a find,
on a finite line.

Photo: Santa Lucia Trail, Ca.  Backpacking with young boyscouts last weekend, an adventure!

Sand Hill Prose

One by one, lunches collect in the trunk,

Check: water, sunscreen, and jacket.

Parents hastily sign off the place and the time,

But press gratitude and envy into goodbyes.



Awake and fresh eyes in the snap of the air

“Look what I brought! When will we get there?”

Unsolicited, my back seat is filled

With stories, and newscasts, out

The window on the world.



“That’s a cool car.”

“Have you heard the one about….?”

“I can show you KVEC.”

“I like those houses looking out at the sea.”



Highway gives way to campground,

Campground gives way to trail.

Pavement disappears into sandy ramp,

Vehicle-packed beach yields to soft dunes.



In a heartbeat, they peak the summit,

Board in hand, and wax on board.

With his first attempt the expert slips,

Careening and rolling to a sandy landing.



First novice, seated, sleds safely forward

Only to nose-dive through his cresting wave

In a high-speed shower of eye burning, mouth grinding, dirt.



“Don’t be a pessimisium, you won’t hurt yourself!”

“Someone please rinse my eyeballs, I can’t see a thing.”

“I did the splits, and have sand where the sun never shines.”

“Why is my unbuttoned pocket the only one without sand in it?”



-
The most difficult initiate becomes the most enduring rider,

Unable to return home without just one more (masterful) turn,

Smoothly shifting his seat, leaning back, feet ahead,

Board-tip rising, accelerating down without a wake.



The reward, along with a shoe-full of sand:

“My tongue is going to show this ice cream no mercy!

But next time, can we make it longer?”

…And nostril-cleaning all the way home.

Sunday 160 Fetishes

Find inside

trigger of tides

trinket bears

rare cares

closure

ridiculous

switch wishes

everything off

never enough

food, feet,

salty, sweet?

Relief bleak

fetish

of the

weak.

This is a poem in 160 characters, spaces included.  If you want to meet the challenge, post yours on Sunday and let Monkey Man know HERE

Sunday 160

-

You’ve got your roots in me,

tumbleweed or ivy.

Dig hard, I’m scarred.

Torrential or blazing,

broad or tall,

deeply me.

-

-

To my friend, Shirley, on her 50th. Pruning her garden, blooming in mine.

Sunday 160 Challenge, write a story or poem in 160 characters, spaces included.  Let Monkey Man know HERE

55 flash fiction of a hand

-
Keys to a portal
Tools for conjuring
Spells, spirits and addicting flights

Dare to examine the course
along a feathery, furry path
surrounding the bone and sinew frame

Unwind the images
of hidden shapes, curves and warmth
scents, sounds and pressures.

Touch ignites the sensitive spark
of liquid amber core heat
flowing from every pore.

write a poem or story in exactly 55 words, let G-Man know, HERE

Meander

I was told that the river Meander in Greece turns and doubles it's path in a convoluted s-shape and was considered a symbol of life's path turning and twisting and circling again, (nothing like the straight line of western society's path of choice. James Cameron (Avatar/Titanic director) quoted native tribal leaders by saying, "tread carefully upon your path, for the faces of your grandchildren gaze up at you" -...or something like that......-
-
I was only meandering until I turned the corner and I found you


In a dreamlike godlike ownership of my life
Following a path
Purposefully Meandering
With you.


Explosions of birth , the highest high
All hopes and dreams and
Power of creativity
Surging
Frightening
Empowering
Bone chilling
We meander
In a dreamlike godlike ownership of life.


How like falling in love is giving birth.
Never so in love
As with this little one,
United
Bonded
Needed
Owned
We meander
In a dreamlike godlike ownership of lives.


Growing and flowing and blown by the winds,
Where does the love go?
A creative but destructive force:
The fire
The pyre
The pit
The abyss


We meander

In a dreamlike godlike ownership of death.
I was only meandering until
I turned the corner and found you
In a dreamlike godlike ownership of my life
Following a path
Purposefully
Meandering
With you
-
-
Dedicated to my husband, 50 today, and to those bloggers who meander onto my words....