Under forest canopy:
Hippie kids, Hippie parents,
Hippie grandparents.

Culture of Saskatchewan
#hippie   #kid   #forest   #saskatchewan   #creek   #canada   #beryldov   #ness   #wikipedia   #canopy  
Oct 18, 2013

The wind is pulling my hair as I come to greet you.
The shades of green all around my eyes.
And the chirping noise that gets louder and louder as I come near.
I could lay on your soft ground for ages and that feeling will still be there.
The feeling that I'm going to help you get away from the people that ignore your worries.
And as the leaves fall down
The sun rays open my eye lids
I wake up to your smile.
A smile that shows me kindness
That shows me friendly-ness
After this, I knew I have never seen beauty so pure like this before.

Flowers creek
Meggie D
Meggie D
Jul 3, 2013

Flowers creek
against the pressure from
The wind,
Subtle melody
Erupting in a
Brilliant burst of
Melancholy. Seldom does the
Breeze go
Noticed. These bones
Will soon begin
To rust, laid
Placidly atop the aching
Blades of grass, soothed only
By the
Chanted promises of
A bitter tongue
Safely lodged within the moist mouth of
Godless head
Abrupt reconciliation realigns
The spine as the
Soil remains ever

Julia Ann
Apr 26, 2011

Influenced by the Creekology*

The beer cans decorate my dulled land.  I’m jaded by the un-bothered creekers.  Cigarette butts speckle my ground like confetti on New Year’s Eve in NYC.  

I flow rapid as I turn corners, slapping against rocks, carrying the beer cans of those too arrogant to bring back their own trash; allowing my minnows to swim in and out cutting their fins and scales on the aluminum forcing their crimson into my waters.

The tulips and daffodils that have been planted for me try to bud every spring, but are normally stomped down by visitors who stumble their way back missing my trails and making a ruckus waking my flowers from their slumbers.

At least I have my dedicated creekers.  The ones who actually care about me and organize the cleanups, even though they know it was not them who left their old cups to fester in the sun.  Nor were they the group that sharpied my rocks with names and poorly drawn pictures.

I have been here for years to assist the new college kids to finding their batch of friends.  I have seen many come and go but I have always taken the satisfaction of knowing I am helping  young adults when they need a place to be left to their solitude.
I watch the poets drinking their beers jotting down their thoughts it notebooks that will never be read, the photographers that dip around me and take their pictures.  

They hang around and listen as the warm breeze rustles the earth around me until the time comes where they pack up Their trash in their back packs and turn to walk up my paths, just leaving the other filth behind them.

And for that, the ones who appreciate me
are even still

no better 
than anyone else.

The creek stinks;
Hailey P
Hailey P
Feb 25      Feb 26

The river flows,
The creek stinks;
Both are canals,
But a creek is much narrow.
And the river and the sea,
are connected,
The creek?
Most of the time it really,
really stinks.

Pretty little creek,
Nov 15, 2012

Pretty little creek,
Thy beauty I always seek,
Sweet creek I love you!


By the creek at Night
May 14, 2013

Lacy ferns growing
By the creek at Night
The creek is forever flowing and singing
Especially tonight
A full Moon hangs in the sky
And the Fairies are dancing in the Enchanted Forest
And as the clouds are passing by
I'm laying down by this creek getting my rest
'Til all at once I fall asleep
And my head is flooded with the most pretty dreams
That forever are with me while I sleep
By this Enchanted Creek
Where the Fairies often are
Hushing the world to sleep
Telling them to wish upon a star
Then go to bed and fall asleep without a peep
Lacy ferns growing
By the creek at Night
The creek is forever flowing and singing
Especially tonight
I'm laying here dreaming the hours away
I've stepped into a whole new world of sunshine
I've stepped into a whole new world and I'm going to stay
I've stepped into a whole new world that is mine
I'm laying by this creek getting my rest
'Til all at once I fall asleep
And my head is flooded with the most pretty dreams
That are forever with my while I sleep


Cross creek crooked

Cross creek crooked
"tween weed dead bluish growths
seeing just the shimmer
of the bottom
of the river
a murky bed bottom-fed
sun shine flicker
ripples trickles seeking levels
seeds fed with moisture may
roots to grow
to the majestic.

Joanne Fuda
Joanne Fuda
May 3, 2013      May 4, 2013

Silence thou art wise still waters run deep under the crawling sun upon this gentle earth lay hope. Sweet soul be not afraid of thy heart..

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