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Jo Barber Sep 23
The mountains powdered
with termination dust
hark the end of summer.
Soon the clusters of evergreens
will be coated in snow,
just as they were last winter.
The snow falls flake by flake.
It's in no rush to hit the ground;
it will melt once it does.
The fireweed has bloomed -
only towering stalks and wilted
magenta flowers remain.

The same type of peace
befalls my quiet life.
Slowly, I return to old ways.
Like footprints in the snow,
the tread of future days
looks much like those of the past.
CA Guilfoyle Apr 2015
From this island
water and more tiny islands
heavily treed with Douglas fir
landing ground for ocean otters
while orca whales glide by
spout and spray
the beach, broken shelled
puddled wells of tide pools
filling, spilling over again
brown bauble seaweed mingles
round algae rocks, barnacle shingled
here where the air breathes salt scented
water running wild with salmon.
Carlo C Gomez Mar 28
~
On a clear day
I can see my sister

It's between six and seven o'clock
and a beautiful expanse of water, reflecting her cultivated shores

a nod, a smile,
through the vapor

castles in the air, ruling over
the available light

then in a moment, she's lost
half her height

and bent into arcades, like those
of a Roman aqueduct

evaporate before me she will

the fading of family, a returning
to cold white at the dawning
of an unfriendly expanse

~
Nathan Tom Dec 2020
Somewhere along the road
Frozen deep at home
I'm not dead yet
But I'm still alone

Melt me with a baseball bat
Crush me to bits
I'm not dead yet
But I still feel like ****
Me listening to "Alive" by Pearl Jam on repeat. God help me.
Kelly Mistry Sep 2020
Home
Such a deceptively simple concept
When you have it
           you can’t describe it
           and take it for granted
When you don’t
           you are forever searching
           aware of the hole in your heart
           but not knowing
           how to fill it

Some say home is where the heart is
Where your people are
Wherever you lay your head at night

Comforting thought

But what if home is also a place?
On this earth
Tangible and corporeal
Rooted in the land or water
That each of us must seek
And may never find

It could be where we were born
Where we end up
Or someplace we have never been

What happens if you never find that home?
What happens if you did
And then you leave

Alaska is that home for me
Not a specific place or town
But the combination of
        mountains,
        braided rivers,
        wildlife that requires respectful distance,
        weather that demands preparation,
        tundra, bogs, and spruce

I doubt I will ever live there again
But it will always live in me
No one Apr 2020
The silence engulfs me,

the quiet sound that fills the Earth,

An ambient hymn covers each inch of snow

Never noticed, but always there.

All white; devoid of color...

but maybe it's okay to not yearn for green.

The lights in the sky dancing over the sky;

so strong you hear the static crackles within the air.

The stars that go on forever

but seem like they're only yours.

The grass covered in polished quartz,

the moon illuminating it;

making it shine brighter than the stars.

A covered sky, glazing over the stars.

The clouds whisk away the light,

claiming it their own.

Only then to pour over with more soft speckles.

You look up; breathe in the frigid zephyr.

The mountains that tower over you,

threatening to consume you without effort.

They block out the light;

the monoliths create a void,

one that is darker than your mind.
Maya Mar 2020
I have never met an alaskan sunrise that I did not fall in love with.
Its warmth spills over the tundra
and filters through the interstices of the bowed willows.

The rose and golden hues greet the mighty Yukon River
Where hundreds of salmon teem beneath the rising sun,
glistening all shades of pink.

The blueberries turn violet when kissed by the morning light
As do the moose as they wade through glacial lakes
Where water lilies drift around their legs.

On the coast,  
Starfish poke out from under their rocks,
And sea otters float lazily with their babies on their stomachs,
anticipating the warmth of the sun.

Every morning, I fall in love with the life and the beauty that Alaska sunrises bring.
beautiful home <3
Maya Feb 2020
I miss the way that you used to fight a smile, with your eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted--

And I miss the way the tundra crunched when I walked on it in spring, still frozen--

But that doesn't mean that I would still love you the same.

When I say that I miss you, I mean I miss being able to listen to certain songs without getting sad
being able to drive down every road without being flooded with memories
of a time we loved one another.

When I say I miss home I mean I miss the feeling of comfort the emptiness brought.  
Being able to look through childhood pictures without crying.

And my biggest fear of all is seeing you again and realizing you're not the same, and neither am I. And the love isn't there.

Or going home and knowing, it isn't how I left it and I've changed too. It doesn't bring me happiness like it used to.

When comparing things that you miss,
you start to realize:
even if you meet again, the person won't be the same one that loved you.
Just like even when you go home again, it won't be the same place you once craved.
Amanda Kay Burke Feb 2020
Crowded bar
Drink held in hand
Music blaring loud
Pretty sure my soul is ******
After the second round

Shot of whiskey down throat
One more to follow
Sea of ***** keeping afloat
Weightless with each swallow

Dizzy head
Thick and light
Clouded
Pulsing
And hazy
Tiredness drags down my sight
Legs relaxed and lazy

Warmth spreads throughout torso
Fingertips begin to tingle
Euphoria inside my brain grows
My neurons and serotonin mingle

Air heavy
Sweat and motion
Humid heat clinging to my skin
Around me is a blurred commotion
Logic and sense wearing thin

Tummy performing cartwheels
Whole place unbalanced and dark
Stool wobbly underneath my heels
Bartender pouring from a fifth of Monarch

Saturday night in a tiny town
Where everything else is just too far
So you find yourself driving the same road down
To the local nothing-better-to-do bar
In Talkeetna that bar is called The Fairview which is where I was when I began writing this little treasure haha
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