#yellowstone - Hello Poetry

blanketed in a polar cold woven by the hollow sun the hibernating hills dream of sultry days and the return of forsaken love

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Feb 15, 2021

Feb 15, 2021 at 11:37 AM UTC

jwdcody

wapiti winter

blanketed in a polar cold woven by the hollow sun the hibernating hills dream of sultry days and the return of forsaken love

6

Remember those days, when we’d jump in the car and find ourselves somewhere fifty miles south? Or when we’d decide on a Wednesday that it was the time for an adventure, the purple pom pom on your dashboard fluttering in the summer wind. Where did those days go? Why have we left them behind, the exhilarating, spontaneous, unsure best days of our lives? We have traded them for days locked in, watching the snow fall outside rather than being the ones outside chasing it.

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Mar 2, 2020

Mar 2, 2020 at 9:36 PM UTC

blueskyvail

Yellowstone

Remember those days, when we’d jump in the car and find ourselves somewhere fifty miles south? Or when we’d decide on a Wednesday that it was the time for an adventure, the purple pom pom on your dashboard fluttering in the summer wind. Where did those days go? Why have we left them behind, the exhilarating, spontaneous, unsure best days of our lives? We have traded them for days locked in, watching the snow fall outside rather than being the ones outside chasing it.

14

My happiness comes from me ask my friends and the world around me blossoming in a spark of crimsony red moon glow on forethought walks through the shivering lenses of percept that trickle down our backs as we enlighten ourselves with all that is in between and unseen. It is as if our aged limbs were caressed into a symphony of leverages and their shapes. We cannot be cadavers. We are arms of cheer and picture jasper, adolescent googled-eyes gathers with virile fixations on our partners as we prey on the map lines subtly employing our eyes as we dart across each dimple, pimple, freckle, and gently worn rash lines. These are the dogs of our incessant barking. Idling for sincerity, as actors swiftly press Winter into us while our limbless diction presents our inadequacy Rd upon our ugly and I'll-tempered neighborly-things. Aliens of the afternoon, first floor agony and karmas standard for living in a reduced climate One. Wearing down the hooves, undulates from Pepperdine mark trails with breaking breads and twigs and bones. Undulates from another world, behoofed and bemoved, curdling their sappy reselling a of drat and unkindly remarks. And we have begun to wonder when evolution will kick-in. When will the military come for them at the doors and vacate is all from our nontoxic lie-shrouded apartment complexes, condos, and cabins. Slaughter numbers of letters and integers right out in the street; loonies in the town square and the moose are crying.

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Sep 17, 2016

Sep 17, 2016 at 9:52 PM UTC

martin-narrod

Weighing Us Down, Down In The Weather

My happiness comes from me ask my friends and the world around me blossoming in a spark of crimsony red moon glow on forethought walks through the shivering lenses of percept that trickle down our backs as we enlighten ourselves with all that is in between and unseen. It is as if our aged limbs were caressed into a symphony of leverages and their shapes. We cannot be cadavers. We are arms of cheer and picture jasper, adolescent googled-eyes gathers with virile fixations on our partners as we prey on the map lines subtly employing our eyes as we dart across each dimple, pimple, freckle, and gently worn rash lines. These are the dogs of our incessant barking. Idling for sincerity, as actors swiftly press Winter into us while our limbless diction presents our inadequacy Rd upon our ugly and I'll-tempered neighborly-things. Aliens of the afternoon, first floor agony and karmas standard for living in a reduced climate One. Wearing down the hooves, undulates from Pepperdine mark trails with breaking breads and twigs and bones. Undulates from another world, behoofed and bemoved, curdling their sappy reselling a of drat and unkindly remarks. And we have begun to wonder when evolution will kick-in. When will the military come for them at the doors and vacate is all from our nontoxic lie-shrouded apartment complexes, condos, and cabins. Slaughter numbers of letters and integers right out in the street; loonies in the town square and the moose are crying.

4

Eleven to you Star-crust in de stijl courts Silhouettes and shadows Speed boats race around the lake On and on and on and on and Guilty pleasures and guilty moldy blues Sandwiches on the weekends Pasta and pesto or gnocchi every other day too Common mysteries follow the bayou Heavy heads laden in niello swamps Does acrostics in the daytime Pleasures herself with crosswords on her days off Sacks of coffee, potatoes and ivory- beer at 5am Three fingers lay across the stitch This needlepoint is something good No one died but someone could Heavy on the hops, melancholy Wednesday's Miracles in wrestling Russian masters Thwarting automobiles without their governors Faster and faster they go Growing faster and faster they show

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Aug 30, 2016

Aug 30, 2016 at 8:46 AM UTC

martin-narrod

The Show

Eleven to you Star-crust in de stijl courts Silhouettes and shadows Speed boats race around the lake On and on and on and on and Guilty pleasures and guilty moldy blues Sandwiches on the weekends Pasta and pesto or gnocchi every other day too Common mysteries follow the bayou Heavy heads laden in niello swamps Does acrostics in the daytime Pleasures herself with crosswords on her days off Sacks of coffee, potatoes and ivory- beer at 5am Three fingers lay across the stitch This needlepoint is something good No one died but someone could Heavy on the hops, melancholy Wednesday's Miracles in wrestling Russian masters Thwarting automobiles without their governors Faster and faster they go Growing faster and faster they show

21

I'll be dreaming tonight.. Yes I'll be dreamin' tonight Of a Trico hatch that's goes off like a New England snow storm A Loaded five weight by my side, with plenty of backing to spare. I'll be dreaming tonight Of a Montana highway leading me back home, Home to the Firehole bridge, a purple sky ablaze Salmo Trutta, my brother from below I'll be dreaming of Casting tight loops below Kilpatrick Pond, I catch a glimpse of Ernest smiling on the bank The Hemingway legacy lives on at Silver Creek As we wait for the green drake hatches to fill the air! I'll be dreaming tonight of days gone by, When a young boy caught his first German brown. Neversink, you beckon me to the days long ago I feel the force of the river pull me from a deep sleep. And I awaken to the thought of......Tight Lines!

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Apr 19, 2016

Apr 19, 2016 at 12:57 AM UTC

kurt-carman

Becoming the Green Drake

I'll be dreaming tonight.. Yes I'll be dreamin' tonight Of a Trico hatch that's goes off like a New England snow storm A Loaded five weight by my side, with plenty of backing to spare. I'll be dreaming tonight Of a Montana highway leading me back home, Home to the Firehole bridge, a purple sky ablaze Salmo Trutta, my brother from below I'll be dreaming of Casting tight loops below Kilpatrick Pond, I catch a glimpse of Ernest smiling on the bank The Hemingway legacy lives on at Silver Creek As we wait for the green drake hatches to fill the air! I'll be dreaming tonight of days gone by, When a young boy caught his first German brown. Neversink, you beckon me to the days long ago I feel the force of the river pull me from a deep sleep. And I awaken to the thought of......Tight Lines!

17