The day finally came when
I could walk into my sacred space

The white cloak leaving behind
the amazing scent of moist earth

Everything rebirthed
...and so was I

My life involves giving pieces
of me all week...this is where
they come back to me

Blue sky above soothes out
the ridged folds
the browns, ground me
the green vibrant with love~

In this place I am rich
without debt...
without worry...

It also is the place where I sit
quietly, taking it all in
and I swear, I swear
I feel you sitting there
staring out at the river
with me

I swear~

Jon Po Dom Apr 10

I see your green pastures
Coming back to life
Hear birds singing
The woodpecker moves
To the beat of the tree
Springtime has arrived

The waters rush fierce
Moving fish in its current
Leaves slowly returning
The building blocks of life
Arching over like a tunnel
Springtime has arrived

Water droplets fall off the rocks
Creating miniature rivers
Leading to roaring waters
A stream that flows with life
Washing away my cares
Springtime has arrived

Man made beasts
Move through the paths
Post hibernation
Breathing fresh air
And little ones following closely behind
Springtime has arrived

JM 4/9/17

Went hiking with my son for the first time this season. This is what we saw, heard and felt.
CK Baker Mar 7

Fischers rap
on a hot tin roof
Bristol Creek pools
over rock and seed
English wolfhound (and the bark buster)
stroll pine lane
vibrant colors
of a cool spring
in cob yellow and
forest green

Field mice squander
in cotton wind
goat and ferret
hold seven hour trim
raven and coon
meddle and forage (on a splendid fiaker goulash!)
crickets and frogs
in swollen grey logs

Virginia creepers
ride the stone wall
coy wolf high
on fray white rope
eagles perched
at Trudy’s bend
watching catamounts laze
on snow base cedar
(pared arbutus bent  
through a failed ground rock)

Brush spider spins
a timely web
brown bears fumble
at the local jamboree
quizzical squirrels
crack their nuts
pillow clouds float
over Telegraph Trail

12 point dances
on talus and scree
Harris hawk floats
on the big hard sun
Clydesdale and coach
trot Copper Smith road
(glancing down
on finch and the warbler
whistling through
the colander row)

Lavender roots fill
the peat soil box
mountain cats
guard the bold white gates
Black Eye ridge
is wide and open
the country squire hails
this fruitful land

Mihir Kulkarni Jan 23

I was sharing my dreams with her that evening,
Never realized when the stars started blinking...
With moonlit eyes she whispered without thinking,
"Our dreams are so cute even the stars are winking!"

We went on a night hike. Under that moonless sky lit by a million stars, we had the most wonderful conversation of our lives.
Clementine Eleos Dec 2016

Days like today where I wake up and my astral eyes are not tired, I go outside. I spent most of my summer this year drowning in blankets, sleeping away what days I was not at work. The heat hurt my heart for it reminded me, every day of the summer I was happy. You know, though, I've been happier than that one, and I know I will again so I regret laying in bed when I could have realized that happiness is not a memory just as much as it is not a destination. It's not a cardinal direction, a left then right with an ending. I don't know what happiness is, honestly. I still spend a lot of my time sleeping, pretending to know what's going on and it bothers me. Deeply. Someday I expect my life to fall into place because I was taught that it will with time, but the strides that build the pathway there are all still shaky and I wonder if I can live a life without crutches someday or if I will still be using stilts to convince the world I'm okay. I have it under control. Today was one of those days where I breathed in air that smelled like my 14th year and normally the memories would surge into my veins and I would go insane trying to rewatch clips in my brain from the times I was laughing, in love. I am not watching my life through rose colored lenses anymore, though. I'm living it through green doors. I miss the conquest. I miss the adventure, control. I used to wake up early just to watch the sunrise and now I'm lucky if I see a sunset. All it took was an extra push and suddenly, for 6 months at least, I was someone else. I was floating in time and I could dictacte every feeling I experienced because I fucking tried to. I just need a redo. Today was that. I will try. I always forget that it was not one big mess with a beautiful ending that created the universe, but instead one big bang with millions of years of evolution, that which still included decay- to build what I stand on now. The Earth was not built in a day, nor was I the summer I'm convinced I was my happiest. So I know that it's one step at a time. And I'm ready.

MindsPalace Nov 2016

Early morning, still asleep, but awake. Driving.
Trail head, moving, but still asleep. Starting.
Early blues, dirt and cold, move. Hiking.
Sunrise, waking up, seeing green. Accepting.
Light and day, a smile, and examination. Upwards.
Afternoon, some food, energized. Suspense.
Another start, a drink, you see it. Anticipation.
Final push, sun overhead, sweat. Breaking.
A moment, you're there, the peak. Relief.
A pause, a rest, the magic. Beauty.
Postpone, delay, but down again. Exhaustion.
Aching, sore, but worth it. Descent.
Time, darkness, back again. Driving.
Ahead -- another mountain, tall, for tomorrow. Sleep.

Snehith Kumbla Jun 2016

a little rich
in free fall  

across stones
not yet slippery
of moss

water in
with the being

a forest

of arms  


of the

over and on

like a

over jagged

a green silken
demon sky...

Allesha Eman May 2016

The smell of inspiration
The desire to keep your pace
The rain in your hair
Coloured in rocks
You in your natural habitat
Walls of canyon stone
The rush of the waterfalls
The pain of the drop
As every senseless breath is gone
You can feel yourself drown
In the beauty of nothingness
In silence and peace
On this loud earth
Where the water falls

Snehith Kumbla May 2016

there was a young leopard
that morning in the sun

on hearing our joyous footfalls
it hailed out, "Having fun?!"

alas, not knowing, poor thing,
we didn't follow jungle tongue

and off we ran in such haste
as a question kept hovering:

"Having fun?!"

This poem is inspired by events that occurred during a trek with a friend on 10th November 2012. Though the creature

was not seen, circumstantial evidence suggests that we had a narrow escape.
Ryan Mar 2016

Upon a windswept peak,
I lay my weary head.
Fatigue sets in,
My heart fills with dread

If my tired eyes
give way to treacherous sleep,
I may just give the
all knowing God my soul to keep.

As I slip away begin to speak,

"Curse you lord, for letting me die
on this miserable windswept peak"

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