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Leone Lamp Apr 19
The sun is hot this summer
Like it was last summer
It's too hot to play indoors
Let's don trunks and sandals
For our journey to Turtle Rock,
It's not too far a walk.

Wild carrots grow along hot asphalt
We're chewing Queen Anne's lace
The journey offers time to talk
We talk and walk at our own pace
I see Mosby Creek through the trees,
We're getting near the place

Cruise down the path
Rotten egg's always last!
We're barefoot before the first bend
Look out, leaves of three!
Poison oak let us be!
Lay down our towels
We're here my friend

Me first! Dibs! I call the rope swing!
I shout, jumping over that tranquil spot
Y'know the one, where you go over the creek,
Because of that awkward rock
I grab the rope, run round to the edge
And launch myself sidewards right off the ledge!
Ker-plunk! Time to swim,
Summer's here, life begins.
I wrote this about the swimming hole down the road from where I grew up. It hit 80° the other day, time to hit the creeks.
Yazad Tafti Apr 2020
today i feel like putting a gun to my temple
colt .45 ravaged my cranium only so i don't have to go to temple
no more sins i need to have confessed
polished sleek glock; my prayer ejected through the chamber
hold on, the last time i come to terms with contraband
am i filled with love,  joy, despair or anger?
all i need is my reverend spirit to unclothe its self
i no longer succumb to the falsity of needing to have impressed

cut the gesture man
you just be playing chicken
but when i quit playing
you'll hear me squawk
one shot you'll know i've been stricken
farmer Joe tell him this is his last wake-up call
and that bright light in the mornin bruh
we all know sunrises don't last for a split second  

POP! muuu fckkkaaa
really it's a rooster that squawks in the morning
i feel better
one way in one way out baby
Yonnick August Apr 2020
Salt lines stains tired cheeks
Passed by overused dimples
Like flowing steady creeks
Taking turns in their descent
Rushing very simply
Peter Farsje Feb 2020
Beware young and old alike
for the place that is a scary sight.
Its the Pirate's Cove
sure enough, by jove.

Protected by Sunset Reef,
raiders there will come to grief.

There amongst the shoals
many here have lost their souls.

Daring ones who venture
there by skiff,
often fail to spy their shack,
under the cliff.

The shack is there
though hard to see.
Tattered and weathered
and leaning alee.

Their fighting ship
is hard to seek,
for its hidden well up
the nearby creek.

Bloodthirsty pirates
ready to take your life,
to poke you or stab you
with their long, sharp knife.

In the early morning
they may be snoring,
after a wild night
of drinking and sporting.

Pray not wake them
or you risk your life,
by tasting the
bite of their trusty knife.

Seeking their chests
filled with gold
may land you down
in the depths so cold.

So lads and lasses
stay away
and live to see
another day.
Anastasia Dec 2019
soft blonde hair
plush kisses on my cheek
fingers tracing circles
at the edge of the creek
and blushing cheeks
wiping tears
fixing the leaks
lips on skin
gentle heat
a warm summer day
with a love so sweet
Wyatt Nov 2019
I’m just like a
slow-flowing stream
and you’re like the rocks
that break up my path.
I must learn to pass by you
to avoid flooding the creek.
One of many lessons.
shamamama Sep 2019
how to make ghee
how to to clarify,
place the salt free butter in pan
turn the heat on very low,
then just listen............
then sounds of drizzling rain for a while grow
to a creek starting to flow
then hear the steady rain pelting on leaves
(if it starts to sound like popcorn,
maybe turn the heat down),
then let the rain keep
trodding, until
it gets quieter
and quieter
and quiet
haven't done so in awhile, love making ghee
Dylan McFadden Aug 2019
In the Garden, by the Creek,
Stands a Tree –
A Weary Willow, weeping, in
A prayerful plea:

“The scoffing Oaks hold
All their leaves,
But mine wither in this winter;
Don’t You see?!”

But, oh, what She
Doesn’t yet know
Is that, now, below the ground,
Growing down, and reaching out –

Hidden to sight or sound –
Are her Roots, preparing Her
To bear a thing no Oak has ever known:


So, may Her weeping turn to singing
For spring is bringing
A New Beginning
…In the Garden, by the Creek.

Anastasia Jun 2019
I remember last night
With a sunset sky
Baby blues and glimmering golds
I wanted to see you today
But I couldn't
Not really
I remember last night
When we talked until the streetlights turned on
When I put little white daisies in your hair
And you smiled for me
I wanted to do that tonight
But I couldn't
I remember last night
When we sat by the creek
And caught fireflies
Flickering in the dimming light
Like little neon stars
I wanted to do that tonight
But I couldn't
And it hurt
I just wish I could feel okay, right next to you
Jupiter May 2019
a mucky week,
feeling down.

can't figure out why.

I look at my creek
in my neighborhood
as I drive by

my heart aches
for the most mundane adventure;
a suburban expedition
is enough for me.

I'm home on the couch.
every heartbeat telling me to go,
splash in the creek,
follow its flow

my bike takes me there,
the wind in my ears

socks and shoes left at the bridge,
jeans rolled up to my knees.

the creek is a welcoming bitter cold

it's november but I miss this.

I clamber over rocks like a hermit crab,
covered in dirt,
not stopping

the trees are a beautiful ceiling
in this room that has no walls

as I watch the creatures in the water,
I want to envy them.

but I can't
when I'm having so much fun,
being me,
watching them.
my experience in nature
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