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#peaks
High above the valley Nestled amongst the trees; There's a memory, There's a memory. Shining down from the peaks In the afterglow of the moon; There's a memory, There's a memory. From the bough an echo whispers Like the song the swallow sings; There's a memory, There's a memory. On bright & sunny days I grieve the hardest then; There's a memory, There's a memory. Happy memories
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Jan 24, 2025
Jan 24, 2025 at 10:03 AM UTC
Psíthyros
It doesn't matter who reaches the top of the mountain first because eventually we will all be buried beneath it. We're just racing towards death. If you're always trying to reach the top, you never really get there. There will always be another peak to climb, and you can't stay above tree line forever. Also, the hail storm in the valley won't last forever. So you hunker down and ride it out. Finally, if the journey is the destination, you'll always be on top of the mountain.
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Sep 5, 2023
Sep 5, 2023 at 3:56 PM UTC
Chasing Peaks
The sun must have reached low to prepare our paths, as we walked those grandeur streets, how it simmered the wind mild and warm, to embrace the moment as its child; how it forged halos around your cheeks as you smiled, painting heaven on those peaks & august bloomed in the lake, where my hand kissed your fluttering feet—I felt it expand till it was too leaden for my palms, and it drained away into a moment in time, but you remained, steeped in memories & my deliquesced heart whose tides would fail to let you sail apart.
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Aug 25, 2020
Aug 25, 2020 at 10:53 AM UTC
Blooming August
where is the end everyone has their own everything is included flowing waters will find their end and last droplet winged beasts will land one last time clouds in the heavens will rain no more where is the end fish in all waters will complete their last swim insects crawling and buzzing about will settle in at last wheat, corn, and all plants can't take the lack of liquid mountain peaks, rolling hills, great vast plains hear nothing where is the end is there an end waters may never find that last drop beasts of the air may never land rain will always be fish swimming in the waters will be there all plants will drink in the moisture of the land mountain peaks, rolling hills, great vast plains will be listening we can stop the end we ALL can stop the end... Brian Hill - 2020 # 115
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Apr 24, 2020
Apr 24, 2020 at 6:17 PM UTC
Where...?
We climb mountains to see the sun, but the sun remains the same – outside our grasp. So we tell ourselves it's the effort that counts, consoling our defeated souls of peaks we can't comprehend. At the mountaintop, cold and hungry, we warm our hearts with sweet-nothings. Our feet are planted on the ground yet we feel as if we've reached the top. We forever hold on to this hope – the ideals of peaks, as we live and die racing towards the unachievable sky.
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Mar 4, 2020
Mar 4, 2020 at 12:25 PM UTC
"Peaks"
What's a world without hatred, What's a world without love?
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Aug 10, 2019
Aug 10, 2019 at 6:47 AM UTC
Life
The sun is rising and peaking in amongst the misty morning clouds The rains, from last night, left the air pure and dust-free Rays of light, penetrating that mist leaving bright and clear shadows on the peaks of the western mountains Nature has a way of presenting each new day Each new day has a way of delivering a new experience That new experience will help someone today Someone today will witness a new beginning The new beginning that a new morning will bring Brian Hill - 2019 # 185
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Jul 25, 2019
Jul 25, 2019 at 9:51 AM UTC
Natures New Experience..
^ you inspire impact me so invigorating you raise me high from the deepest valley to soaring peaks of love & life pointing me in the right direction all I have all I want all I need vitalizing inspiration
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Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 3:05 PM UTC
You Keep Me Looking Up
Even as s single man I can't stand Places like Twin Peaks and ******* The only woman that should make me want to peak In public Is my wife/girlfriend
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Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 6:13 AM UTC
Peak
Ketamine dreams, induced narcoleptic nightmares, poles of northern impulses, and southern stupors. My equator's equilibrium, and my catatonic control, each one in the same, yet far from reach. A squeeze of a lime, its fresh sour scent, atop three fingers of gin, match the burn of my cuts, and i feel once again. Cocktail straws set aside, stirring fingers dull discomfort after a lick, "three more limes please, barkeep", it's now triple the pain i seek, tolerance & your fickle itch.
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Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 10:36 PM UTC
States of Gin & Catatonic
No happy man ever said to me "Because I'm happy it will always be so" For in reality Without the highest of highs and the valleys below to balance them out How else are we to take in the sight or learn to see? Without first having discovered both the lie and the mystery Within such peaks and valleys The highs and lows The mountains and holes.
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Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 9:36 AM UTC
Peaks And Valleys
When I reach the ridgetop on the way to the summit, the wind & views of the vast expanse of jagged snowy peaks Breathe life into me. Heart thumping, no dead feeling inside today. How long the dark smothering cloud stays away...a mystery A wolverine! He brought me goosebumps. Extremely lucky if only for a moment...but I have no luck & only a few bucks The trees, the snow, the breeze, a grand show As I glissade...pure happiness My kind of descent, avoiding the dark plunge for now Is adventure the only thing that saves me? Next day soreness so satisfying But happiness is only a state of mind, fleeting Ill have to climb out of those depths again But for a while a depression cure Until another journey when I'll take those steps again A rise within....
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Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 1:30 AM UTC
Peaks & Valleys
Dipped in deep waters I clawed back reality Awhile I may breathe This air clean of depression After climbing the mountain So high it towered Before my weary eyelids That batted esteem The fangs I felt retracted From cocoon in moonlight hue Now the rainbow light Breaks through the darkest hours To answer my plight The angels watch over me I feel them on the summit I will remember Plummeting to their darkness This sonnet of love Embracing the shadows tall Falling with the holy grace Of mortality I journey through the abyss Illuminated
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Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 4:44 AM UTC
Peaks and Troughs
songbirds twitter within the acoustic enclave of my mind. only when I've galvanized myself with the looming shadow of nothingness, a dark initiative, something life-denying and yet spoken loudly to be spoken away do I learn the language of redemption. only when the darkness is embraced can one gaze beyond its shoulder, ready to climb the next mountain and descend into the next valley with no recrimination towards the you in you that's hurting you.
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Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 4:21 PM UTC
the you in you
Hilly areas are really beautiful, And the peaks are breathtaking. The crevices are often so deep, And the peaks so very luscious. Her hills are missed by me, And the cool, dark peaks too.
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Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 12:23 AM UTC
I Miss The Gorgeous Hills
I need more reason I need more rhyme I need more trophies to validate time I need more money I need more school I need more people to tell me what's cool I need more power I need more laws I need more effect to satisfy cause So apparently: I need more love I need more vision For the Peaks I needed and the reasons I didn't
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Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 9:55 PM UTC
The Peaks We Needed and the Reasons We Didn't
It is in love that this world makes sense It is in love, this life’s essence My soul mate, O my love, my friend Together our lives now securely blend We are together in our joys and grief In this journey of meadows and of peaks O soul mate, what a mystery unknown To us that in this deeper love is shown
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Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 12:23 PM UTC
SOUL MATE
The mist rolls in and the sun comes out, the flowers bloom and the wylde things shout. The beasts roam and the thunder quakes, the stars dance as one the ground beneath begins to shake. The calming air the wondrous air the peaceful air. Ode to the beauty of this fresh mountain air. The cool breeze so fair flowing steadily from the mighty peaks Of earth and sky rock and water, ever does it reek. The green of the hills And the shiver of the river's chills The sounds of the forest and the roar of the beasts Ode to you oh ye so fair Ode to you oh perfect mountain air.
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Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 1:12 PM UTC
Mountain Air
Today is the day. As in customary, we shall start with the weather: The morning is clear and cool, the sunshine weak but well-meaning, the wind sweet but sharp and the trees green and chatty. This day has been a long time coming. This day has. For too long it has skulking amongst the future pages of some misplaced internal diary. It's long shadow has been edged with fear, dreaded like an exam. Said fear melts away like yesterday's clouds, replaced by sunny optimism, for this date is now set in stone, frozen hard over night it now stares me down with oblique neutrality. I'm not going anywhere, it whispers softly. You're fears are misplaced. Your fear of me is a your fear of death. Useful up to a point - but essentially irrational. Whatever will be will be and it will today. The morning gather pace and after momentary brief salutations and briefer negotiations the train is boarded. The destination: no one knows. We know the names but they seem oddly sterile now, the sound cold hard lumps in our mouths, currency worn smooth: Edale, the pennines, the peaks, Absorbic. Citric. Folic, Formic Carbonic. Sulphuric. Deoxyribonucleic, Lysergic. Acid. The absurd signposts of anonymous hamlets lazily swing by with increasing rapidity, blurring into one like the blades of a helicopter. Post-industrial scabs and sores instantly give way to merry bucolic splendor as itchy, thick balaclava of the city in torn away. Laugh about nothing as we are hurled headlong into some postcard image of an England long lost between 'then' and 'now' where trees sing, walls are dry-stone and happy cows and sheep await noble, happy deaths; all wrapped in honey-coloured sunshine. Rolling mounds of soft green matter undulate gently to a halt, and we emerge intrepid coloniser of a galaxy far far away. Locals eye us warily, the hot sun looks down angrily now. The baking mud coughs dust in our eyes and yellow spears of dead grass stab our tender shins. The warm fuzzy nostalgia that we are draped in gives way to...something else. Illogical patterns snake across verdant valleys, breathing and twitching. Harsh blue sky melts into hazy horizon, like oil on water. Panic sets in. Pleading looks are exchanged and whilst reassurance is sought, none is found. Each gaunt face is scoured for hints of strength. Leaderless we wade through a sea of shimmering heat, collecting beads of sweat, losing hope of succour. We seek solace in plastic pound-shop distractions, only to find we are rendered too numbskulled to operate children's toys. Terror turns to horror. The yawning maw of madness, death is now so close we are caressed by it's putrid breath... Release! Baking savannah morphs to cool,  mottled-green grotto and everything has already changed. All is bathed in verdant peace and ears can feel the cool lapping of a friendly stream.
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Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 9:17 AM UTC
Pennines
Today is the day. As in customary, we shall start with the weather: The morning is clear and cool, the sunshine weak but well-meaning, the wind sweet but sharp and the trees green and chatty. This day has been a long time coming. This day has. For too long it has skulking amongst the future pages of some misplaced internal diary. It's long shadow has been edged with fear, dreaded like an exam. Said fear melts away like yesterday's clouds, replaced by sunny optimism, for this date is now set in stone, frozen hard over night it now stares me down with oblique neutrality. I'm not going anywhere, it whispers softly. You're fears are misplaced. Your fear of me is a your fear of death. Useful up to a point - but essentially irrational. Whatever will be will be and it will today. The morning gather pace and after momentary brief salutations and briefer negotiations the train is boarded. The destination: no one knows. We know the names but they seem oddly sterile now, the sound cold hard lumps in our mouths, currency worn smooth: Edale, the pennines, the peaks, Absorbic. Citric. Folic, Formic Carbonic. Sulphuric. Deoxyribonucleic, Lysergic. Acid. The absurd signposts of anonymous hamlets lazily swing by with increasing rapidity, blurring into one like the blades of a helicopter. Post-industrial scabs and sores instantly give way to merry bucolic splendor as itchy, thick balaclava of the city in torn away. Laugh about nothing as we are hurled headlong into some postcard image of an England long lost between 'then' and 'now' where trees sing, walls are dry-stone and happy cows and sheep await noble, happy deaths; all wrapped in honey-coloured sunshine. Rolling mounds of soft green matter undulate gently to a halt, and we emerge intrepid coloniser of a galaxy far far away. Locals eye us warily, the hot sun looks down angrily now. The baking mud coughs dust in our eyes and yellow spears of dead grass stab our tender shins. The warm fuzzy nostalgia that we are draped in gives way to...something else. Illogical patterns snake across verdant valleys, breathing and twitching. Harsh blue sky melts into hazy horizon, like oil on water. Panic sets in. Pleading looks are exchanged and whilst reassurance is sought, none is found. Each gaunt face is scoured for hints of strength. Leaderless we wade through a sea of shimmering heat, collecting beads of sweat, losing hope of succour. We seek solace in plastic pound-shop distractions, only to find we are rendered too numbskulled to operate children's toys. Terror turns to horror. The yawning maw of madness, death is now so close we are caressed by it's putrid breath... Release! Baking savannah morphs to cool,  mottled-green grotto and everything has already changed. All is bathed in verdant peace and ears can feel the cool lapping of a friendly stream.
Continue reading...
9
This my our journey. Ice... Jutting miles towards the heavens. Above the jet stream. Higher than most airliners fly, Up and beyond, The pinnacle of our love, Is the closet to the stars. I am lured by its magnificence, I am attracted by the challenge. Even though there is a chance, I wont survive. Storm winds blow 100 miles per hour, Pounding it's victims, With triple digit wind chills, And zero visibility. Every climber dies a little. Fighting a losing battle against cachexia, Because above 18 000 feet, Cuts never heal, The body depletes, The air is so dry, A cough literally fractures a ribs. Weathering such unfriendly conditions Is... The ultimate test. There is a 99% chance, That I'll fail the quest. But I promise I'll do, My best.
0
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
Mount Everest.