Tag Archives: poem

Zen On The Trail

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I look up the trail and what do I see,

A day full of promise I think you’ll agree.

I hope and I pray for clear lucid thought,

The sun and the stars are all that is sought.

As I walk down the path and my mind starts to wander,

I take a deep breath, my heart growing fonder.

Is it possible? Can it be true?

Should I walk this alone, did I think it all through?

A path of enlightenment, Zen promises abound,

The earth and rocks flutter, a vibe from the ground.

So each step that I take, dust scattering the trail,

No way will I stop, no way will I fail.

I can now see the end, a magnificent view,

My love of the trail, a love that is true.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Inner Peace

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Slivers of sun fall softly through the trees,

Warming your face and the trail with ease.

Walking the earth, the miles go by,

The wind whispers welcome from the blue sun kissed sky.

I walk and I walk, smelling the soft scent of pine,

Invading my spirit and caressing my mind.

As my thoughts start to wander, I don’t travel for speed,

My journey is nowhere, I just have the need.

So as I move on and my thoughts become clearer,

I’m closer to peace, my soul is a mirror.

 

 

 

Why Do I Love The Trail?

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Why do I love the trail?

My feet falling upon the rocky earth, searching for the white hot blaze that leads to bliss.

I walk the wooded miles, up down all around, the stress washing off,

Each drop of sweat a needed  dose of nothing. Asking for nothing, telling nothing. The silence of the wind as it washes over me.

Why do I love the trail?

The crunch, crunch, crunch of my boots,  one step after the other, guiding me to serenity. Each narrow path, shrouded by oddly shaped green leaves, pine needles and a fine dust being kicked up as I weave in and out of tree roots, exposed by time and the seasons.

Why do I love the trail?

The smell of the woods, snow covered rocks and the cool streams running high after springs wrath. The rain falling through the trees, head raised, collecting each precious drop.

Why do I love the trail?

Because  I can.

 

 

The Magic Of A Snowflake

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Indulge in snowy madness with white crystals falling,

Head raised, hexoganal treats on the tongue,

Melting quickly, liquid memories fading,

Isolated and fantastic pleasure found in each flake,

The trail shows a vast wasteland of missed opportunities,

Each one not caught collects on the cold earth,

Desolate and not forgiving, forever lost in the blowing wind,

The  memories gather in peace,  with each fallen flake,

Consoling each other, as one.

 

The Nor’easter

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Here in the northeast of the US we are about to get slammed by a Nor’easter this Tuesday and Wednesday. Here is a short piece of rhyming poetry to usher it in:

In a couple of days time a nor’easter will blow,

The weatherman is telling  a tale of woe.

The wind will be whipping and a cold snow will be falling,

The cruel hand of Boreas soon will be calling.

And as much as I love the soft fluffy white,

Two feet of snow is more of a blight.

So as I sit and ponder the storm,

The coming of spring  can’t be the norm, 

But the new season will soon be here, that much is true,

A bright crisp green landscape and fresh air anew.

So look out your window and enjoy winters last breath,

As we move hand in hand celebrating its death.

Spring Hiking is Near (I Hope)

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As I sit at work and think of spring,

The warmer days and the hikes it will bring,

I dream of the trail and not of the cold,

Leaves on the trees, a scene to behold,

I know that day will be here, no time to lament,

Of harsh winter nights, awaitng springs soft sweet scent. 

 

 

Rhythmic

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A rhythmic poem should be measured,

If it is the words will be treasured,

As you weave through each stanza,

A linguistic bonanza,

 I hope you will read this for pleasure. 

Rhythmic

Early Spring?

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A misty morning last year on the trail.

Springs awakening, 

Mist covered path provides me

With solace and peace,

Quiet days speak the loudest,

Each day its own beginning