The lure of gold brought Fifty-Niner’s in droves to the Kansas-Nebraska territory laden with packs, picks, pans and shovels - hell-bound for adventure and facile wealth.
Placer miners squatted beside frigid streams, dipping their pans and filling their sacks with nuggets bound for the assayer's verdict.
Mine towns sprang up where the veins were strong. In ******* Creek, Leadville, Independence and Central City, the valleys rang with the strident cacaphony of drills and explosives - burrowing shafts deep into the ore-rich valleys and mountain slopes.
Headlamps lit and shadowed mazes of timbered tunnels where men piled rock high into mine cars headed for the mammoth crushers at Idaho Springs.
Whiskey freely flowed in saloons and hotels where raucous miners let off steam with every mode and cast of ***** talk pleasures
In time, the veins were spent and profits dwindled. When the drama ended and the curtain fell, the miners vanished - leaving only ghost towns behind and a new state named for its reddish river – Colorado.
This is the second poem in a cycle called Echoes from Colorado
Over untallied millennia, roiling Gunnison waters sliced through southern Colorado schist and gneiss like a sabre - carving tower walls of black rock ribboned with tableaus of pegmatite and mica flakes flickering in the mid-day sun.
2,000 feet below, meandering through its stark canyon walls like some legendary serpent, the Gunnison murmurs softly - resting on its laurels.
Bring me to life Let in the light Free my tormented soul As I wait, Alone with this empty horizon.
Slowly, but surely Loneliness fades as the mountains rise up to meet me Billowing above Silhouetted across the sky Stoic and unmoving Their life runs so deeply across the earth Without the posions of fear and hate To disrupt their simplicity And their complexity They are pure existence And this moment is everything So I join them.
Air coats my throat and fills my lungs Allowing the vibration of energy Radiating from all that surrounds me To dance across my skin Through my body and Into my bloodstream
I am by myself on this road But I cannot feel lonely Every inch of nature that surrounds me Has invited me into their energy Into their space and sense of freedom Pure acceptance No judgement From the wisps of white dancing through blue shades of infinity To the neverending marathon of greenery, fields and shrubs jog to the edge of forever I cannot be alone As my heartbeat joins the rhythm of the universe
Hopefully if you're unfamiliar with that song google will comply and locate it for you.
Blue skies out West look deeper in a sense Than Illinois e'er knows, clouds in betrayl 'Non floating laz'ly in such vast seas they'll Assure ye rare pools know, til I from thence Half ache to be in those dear prairies hence As childhood fondly knew, swept to avail Clean of these houses clustered sans aught bail, And where the Thunderbirds roar through fr'intents. I said I'd join the Air Force, but Dad fer All that said: No. And that is better too. Yet oh! the Rocky Mountains! O those pure, Unfathomed bluest skies! What is't that'd woo Me from their depths? I feel it 'non bestir My soul, just watching from afar. And you?
Or mebbe I'll record myself singing it one of these days...only the chorus, though--"Colorado, THAT's King Sooper's Way, That's King Sooper's Way...." Is it called Aldi's in the armpit?
There’s a horse on a field, grazing upon grass as the wind plays its favorite tune, a mountain song, trickling down upon the eastern flat plains of Colorado. Her head hung low in soft serenity, this black mare stares upwards towards a blue purple red sky. She asks not why or what, but is simply aware of the natural. Enjoying her meal, this black mare alone on her favorite field, concealed by a white fence, one more day coming to an end, turns to her stable, ready to return. The sky turns a dark blue. A September shiver rattles her old craggy bones, but the stable shelters her from further pain. Time to rest, and tomorrow all the same.