"downhill" poems
He made sure I knew just how lucky I was to have him
But he never hit me
He played games with my emotions repeatedly
But he never hit me
He made sure I didn’t leave the house in a skirt above the knees
But he never hit me
He knew the words to say to make me feel so small that I could not breathe
But he never hit me
He tossed me in and out, in and out, until my mind was in an out of control tizzy
But he never hit me
He messed around on the side late at night while I rested in our bed
But he never hit me
He made it clear that I wasn’t to go out at night with the girls
But he never hit me
He told me over and over again just how hard it would be to find anyone else to deal with me
But he never hit me
He fell asleep safe and sound as I laid in bed trying to catch my breath through tears
But he never hit me
He needed to have the password to every device, app and account
But he never hit me
He knew the power he held and used it over my head to weaken me
But he never hit me
He made jokes at my expense in front of friends and family and we all giggled together instead of cringed
But he never hit me
He assured me the women he texted were coworkers or colleagues but I could never know what they spoke of
But he never hit me
He made it clear that my interests and goals were not of pertinence
But he never hit me
He knew the exact words to say to take my entire day downhill
But he never hit me
He broke my heart over and over and over again until it was minuscule shreds
But he never hit me
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 8:06 PM UTC
I like to play horror games
Amnesia was the first one I played
The monsters were scary
The envoirement was eerie
But if I'd call the monster Steven
Instead of scared I'd be merry
Steven was such a funny guy
He looked funny
He walked weirdly
Nothing of him would terrify
The only time he'd scare me was when I'd open the door
Sometimes the jumpscare would make me fall to the floor
Many years I have played these games
Even though I was scared, in the end I'd be okay
That was until I stood next to my brother
He was not yet in his grave
This experience was like no other
It crashed on me like a giant wave
I'd never seen him lay so still
It was hard but I wanted to try
Though I knew it could only go downhill
I wanted to touch his hand one last time
I lowered my body and reached out my hand
I was pretty sure he would scare me right then & there
But my brother didnt move, not even a hair
And I realized at that moment how much I wanted that jumpscare
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 11:03 PM UTC
Though the first carried more miles, the second day of the hike was totally and unapologetically uphill.
When you ascend, hiking becomes the zen of endurance.
First, you are stripped of all the pleasures of hiking. Your excitement is boiled into lactic acid. Your love for the trail is baked, hardened and dehydrated into thoughts of laying down in the sun until the heat shrivels you into an unconscious raisin.
Try as you may to put on your “isn’t hiking just a slice of heaven?” face, strangers passing you on the downhill stride can only see your “PLEASE GOD, HELP ME OR ******* **** ME” face.
As much as hiking really is a small slice of heaven, there is no denying the living-death of taking 10 straight miles to the knees under the chaffing hell of a 50 pound sack in the relentless sun.
But when you’re back in an office, sitting on your cushy little ergonomic chair, you long for the sweat and the torture that forces your mind to the ankle deathtraps of mountain terrain. To the deep valley behind and below you, and the crystal basin at the foot of the granite Giants.
The worst thing you can do is ignore the pain—that makes it relentless. Instead you focus on the pain until you become it. The only thing left is the moment between each step, when you remember why you are here and what it is worth. Every time your foot touches dirt, it leaves twice the footprint. One on the mountain and another in your memory where you will safeguard the misery of your ascent and hold on for dear life. One day, when your knees are too weak and your body can no longer table your pack, all the pleasures and joys of the trail that you once thought dissipated in the steam of uphill toil will come rushing back with the magnified strength of every year between you and the present you once knew and respected enough to actually live.
And if you didn’t, if you let it only be pain to get through and not to focus or dwell on, then that is what it is and will always be. A dull memory of pain, dark and somber and incomplete.
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 2:41 PM UTC
Another Version
Hartley Forde
You can’t see the wind,
But that old mango tree,
Outside my window,
tell me it’s there..
.
I never travel with a raincoat,
Even though I hate getting wet,
Then here comes the aches and pain
And I started to wonder,
was it because I got a little insane..
I thought that I could
Have run faster than it pours
I haven’t heard of
any aircraft that outrun a jet plane yet,
But, not so anymore,
I never leave my coat and cane,
When I am on a stool,
Oh dear, what has happened to me?
Am I aging? I am not young anymore,
Nor grey, nor old: for age is just a number,
But when the toil of the day
Merges with the aches and pain
With sighing sounds I start to wonder:
I still dance the night away, with my social tunes,
And waltz across the floor to all-time favorite of Strauss
See how I step back in time with the reggae beat,
Lighter than a feather on my feet,
Smiling, with my pearly teeth from ear to ear:
Life just isn’t fear: because age is just a number
That’s when the rubs and oil granny left me:
Come alive again in the neck of time,
to soothe the pain of my aching joints
I smile once again and said
“Oh dear, what do they say again,
Age is just a number and life begins at forty,
Because, I am just starting to be naughty:
Downhill !
written by:
Hartley Forde
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 6:48 PM UTC
There is no moral code
When time is an icy road
Where you cannot stop
Or you'll be stuck in the cold ground
When the temperature drops
Snow collects in my frosty frown
And starts to linger
On my frostbite fingers
While I keep sliding
On the line we're riding
I see icy roads
Leading to icy modes
Of acting
Impacting
The way we treat each other
The same way we beat each other
To the finish line
Of our frigid time
Time isn't nice
When it's ice
But it's all we know
Time continually goes
The challenges grow
Buried in snow
Trying to go uphill is a nasty nope
Sliding downhill is a slippery slope
If you momentarily lose your control
You're pulled over by the cops on patrol
Everything is covered in snow
Even the cars being towed
Their owners gave away their agency
And are at the tow truck driver's mercy
They rely on him to get them to safety
So they cunningly wear his jersey
There are things we want
Acquired by tease and taunt
We drive on top of bodies
To gain traction on the street
We do what is naughty
To have enough to eat
I careen through time
Without seeing a dime
Everything looks so plain
In this frozen rain
When the ordinary life
Is within my sight
I look for something more
Only to see a frozen door
There is ice on the road
There is ice in my heart
I can't handle the load
In the back of my cart
Until I decide
To abide
By the slide
And glide
On the edge of control and freedom
There are other cars and I'll lead them
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 2:03 AM UTC
He almost let out a sigh of dismay,
Knowing this stint would be short lived.
The common sense in his head seemed to say,
"No one could be this lucky, don't have yourself deceived".
His wheels wobbled and shook; squeaked and wailed,
Under the collective weight of the two.
Screaming threats from worn bearings that ailed,
He did not want to appear weak so his legs pummelled on through.
The ease of cycling was only temporary
He pedalled harder to gain more speed.
Then the ground began to slope gently
His lungs felt like bursting as he pounded his iron steed.
The journey uphill had been more laborious than he had expected.
All the while, the beauty hadn't uttered a single word.
His mind had drifted off even though he was worn and ragged,
The thought of emerging as a couple seemed less than absurd.
The crest of the hill was a cool, long anticipated welcome.
He could finally ease up on the pedalling.
The view from there was nothing short of handsome,
The downhill would take charge and he could catch up on his breathing.
The wind met his face and whistled itself tuneless.
The bicycle rattled as it rolled down the uneven trail.
He felt a sense of flight, there was an air of calmness,
Almost had forgotten about the quiet guest on his tail.
At the bottom he thought he should check on his passenger,
He looked ahead as he addressed the lady.
When he had expected an almost immediate answer,
No response came, despite his calls for her repeatedly.
He pedalled with little effort as if there wasn't added weight
The bicycle slowed down to a clearing where it was dim.
Fatigue was setting in as the night stretched late
His curiosity won the battle and got the better of him.
He stopped his bicycle and maintained balance with his feet,
He twisted his torso so he could speak to his fare.
The moment he did so, his heart had almost ceased to beat,
To his horror, he found that the lady was no longer there...
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 12:00 AM UTC
On the bank of a rushing brook
I sat for hours watching its course.
Peered into the clear gurgling mass
That cascaded down from a mountainous source
Like a slithering snake, it slinks and slips
It babbles downhill night and day
Rolling and gliding through plains and dales
It winds its way to the wider bay.
Dipping my fingers in its icy chill
How my hand got repelled as from a shock!
In its ripples stirred by the kissing breeze,
I saw trees, clouds and the jutting rock-
All floating in queer, fanciful shapes,
Shuddering, trembling and standing still
And the fishes leaving zigzag trails,
Swishing and swimming in the winding rill.
As I quietly watched her speedy flight
With her ***** rising in mournful heaves,
In my ears fell her whispering soft
Orchestrated by the rustle of quivering leaves
I hardly knew the time speeding by
Nor noticed the birds’ homeward flight
Or the Sun moving to the west end side
And the Sky reddening at his sight
As the brook thus continued her headlong ride
To be mingled finally with the ocean wide
I walked, brooding over man’s relentless stride
To be merged eventually with the Cosmic Guide.
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 9:10 AM UTC
Mine was carbon fiber
with Campagnolo gears
it had ramhorn handlebars
and I rode beyond all fear
Until I hit loose gravel
just around a bend
downhill at full travel
and I went end over end
Now I ride a cruiser
with a basket and a bell
it's got a loose cupholder
and riding uphill is hell
But it gets me where I'm going
and it's healthy for my scars
it makes me feel like I am soaring
when she is on the handlebars
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 8:47 AM UTC
I am Frosty the Snowman
And I keep losing my hat
And all the kids who danced around me
Have all grown into what they're supposed to be
I don't mind if you want to go
I'm not half the snowman I wish I was
I just stay frozen
In all the pain I put upon me
So will you help me find my hat
Will you help me find my hat
Will you help me find my hat
'Cause I want you to stay
I think love
Has gone downhill
Ever since it was
Confused with lust
It's merely just
A physical
Attraction now a days
I need somebody to show me
That they can be more than a body
More than just a one night stand
I need someone like you
So will you help me find my hat
Will you help me find my hat
Will you help me find my hat
'Cause I don't want to melt away
https://spencercarlson.bandcamp.com/track/frosty
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 8:51 PM UTC
I woke up one day
And I rode far away
And when I came back
A few weeks late
i decided to shape
up
or else, its a long ride
down
How often do you walk home?
Or should I say struggle
Distances are more attainable
In mixed up situations
I am too deeply rooted in thought
on the topic of meditation
To help this patient
I am inhabiting
Enter: ************* bicycles
I used to find
Walking uphill
And walking downhill
Equally awful
The climb to the top
Is worth the fast ride down
The topic of how many hills
are around
And how often we choose to climb them
Will not play in this ballgame
Because cycling is a sport
blood doping is dope
breaking news:
Livestrong sponsors the pope
Without a helment
You would tell me I look ****
As I ride with no hands
Don’t worry darlin’
I knew my hair looked good too
Drinking whiskey at home you can make art
I made that without you
It all came out of my mouth
And nostrils
Without you
I will puke again
Without you
Its true
Rough mornings aren’t new
their usually rough
without you
Only because my will is strong
And if I didn’t livestrong
My will - still will included you
Only if I died on someone else’s terms
(spoiler no such thing)
In an alternate universe
You could be on my bike
And I’d be ****** cold sober
And when that bus hit me
My mom wanted to give you
what belonged to me - the one thing
That survived the accident
Ask a few old friends I survived a few
Whether you knew
Or not
were on it or off
Always on the bottom
Jake
Was a snake
Before I met him
That’s Kona bike history
Living on
Without me
As I age I am learning
To be loyal
To all sorts of objects
like bikes
And women
that own them.
Withholding
without me
I can't see what it would be
like without me -
But lets be honest
Its not so as much about the bikes
As it is about bliss
i've seen what its like without you
It true
If a bus ran over my *** tomorrow
The first thing it would break is my heart
You could start
The day I stopped
Riding my bike
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 3:35 AM UTC
In her dream, a cataract torrent
Crashes to effervescence,
Force and verve, vivacious apparent,
Shoots arrowed iridescence.
In reality, a rivulet meanders,
Blind to mountain, fountain and fell,
Downhill she flows, barely seen,
Pebbles 'n stones part of her scene.
Here she circumvents boulder and rock,
There gives way to shout and shock,
Hiding her head between her knees
She longs to lose herself in the seas.
I knelt down close to hear her cries,
Allowed her tears wash over my eyes,
Caressed her soft water with my hand,
Sprinkled her sweetness o'er the land.
'Sweet stream', I whisper'd, 'The waterfall you dream,
Lives through its awful roar ‘n terror,
But life lives not in its awesome scream,
Life lives not in its horror.'
'Without you, doe could not parch their thirst,
Frogs would not breed or dippers immerse.
Heavenly daughter, jeweled traverse,
One silent ripple is an angel's universe.’
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 8:12 AM UTC
Those moonrise eyes, that darling stare.
You could glare at me all day, I don’t even care.
Smile like violets, laughter like beer,
My head swims when you’re far away, scuba-dives when near.
Walk the streets of superficiality with me,
And we’ll roll our way downhill until we love ourselves to sleep.
I’ll love you straight to sleep.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 1:57 PM UTC
She loosens on tiptoe
the latch of her window,
slides upward the sash
and the shine of the moon
pours over the sill,
like it's rushing downhill
like a silver stream,
flooding her room.
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 1:31 AM UTC
Just disappearing
isn't possible
when it takes
so long for
a rock wall
to erode away
The wind
is the only one
that sees you,
and its silence
grinds down
from the inside out
a mountain
too high to climb
It's hard to forget
swelling words
spoken under the breath
of the voice of silence,
when your hands
are lined with all
that they ever have;
still bearing
every latent piece
that breaks off
tryin' to keep
from the sight
of another
tempest storm gale
moving worlds
So I'm going
way outside
the edge of the inside;
crossing over
way outside the lines
covered by gathered
windblown life fractals
Though I may not
get back in again,
way outside the lines,
or I might not
even want to ...
you can’t go back
the same way
you came,
everything changes
while you're gone
even if you DO notice
Gravity pulls
with the strength
of a turning tide:
you can try
and fight it,
but you can't stop
its running downhill
looking behind
your eyes, trying
to take you back
the same way you
went way outside
the lines ...
Jesse
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 2:14 PM UTC
The cars roll up and come to a stop
You jump onboard thinking this rocks
But the non-stop ride has only just begun
Before long you’re up and in rages again
Things fly through the air and break on the wall
You’re pushing and fighting and out of control
Then you run to your room and lock yourself in
Crying and shaking till your asleep yet again
You wake from your sleep but you haven’t a clue
You really don’t know why things are askew
Another day and what will it bring
Today the rollercoaster is on a downhill swing
You’re sad and mad and hating the world
There is no one to love and no one who cares
Forget the friends and forget the fun
You lay in your bed wishing you were gone
I tell you I love you and you say it’s not true
You’re the love of my life what can I do
Day after day the ride starts again
The only change is the curves and the spins
We have tried all the medicines but to no avail
We have gone to the psychiatrist but she is no help
I understand your thinking son but what can I do
We have tried so many things and yet I haven’t a clue
You beg me to **** you and to make it all stop
I want it to end but your request I can not
Please don’t give in to this terrible thing
Stay with me a while longer till I find you again
The rollercoaster will someday jump the track
And you will be free from the ride at last.
Mar 10, 2010
Mar 10, 2010 at 6:40 AM UTC
I have a strong dislike for you.
At first it was fine.
You tried to cater and be kind.
Make me feel like your home was mine.
But now I must express why I hate you
half of the time.
You became clingy-
and it went downhill from there.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 7:15 PM UTC
how can such hollow words fool you?
how can you not see from your point of view?
you let them pluck you like a fragile lute,
you let them **** on you as if you were the ground.
stop letting them smell you as if you were foul.
just fight back and start with a growl.
don't let them move you around in a chess game.
let their every advance not allow your mind to sway.
you could be losing but don't toss the board yet.
stay even when all seems to go downhill,
stay and don't let your losses shake your will.
just fight back, break yourself free, and live with thrill.
roar even when they can barely hear
and know that they're not the ones to fear.
do what it takes to amplify your lion heart.
you can borrow my light to see through the dark.
aim carefully like you were shooting darts.
just fight back, shield your person, and make your mark.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 10:13 AM UTC
I have never been 40
it's coming soon
it's just around the corner
The big 4-0 looms
I have Never been 40
I haven't got a clue
Will my hair turn grey
How much will I lose?
I have never been 40
What do I do
I've heard all the horror stories
I don't want to face the truth
I'm turning 40
Goodbye to my youth
Can some one please help me
I'm turning 4-0 and singing the blues
Will I lose my teeth
Have to gum my food
Wear knee high socks?
Watch the evening news
I'm turning 40
My life is through
What the hell is next
What is left
Nothing to look forward to
It's all downhill
Oh God ****
God ****
What to do
I'm turning the big 4-0
Yeah my life is through
Dec 26, 2016
Dec 26, 2016 at 1:50 AM UTC
When the Sun is at its brightest
It casts the harshest shadow
Behind each gain, there must be a loss
Each summit, a downhill
So a skilled photographer should know
When to take a rest or take a shot
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 1:06 AM UTC
he rides his bicycle in the the
torrential rain
plowing a froth quick and fierce
through the rivers created
the cycle once bright orange
has patches of rust the size
of cantaloupe
and has a blue hoodie wrapped
round the seat which smells musty
you can feel him panting
bathed in sweat
as each hill retains more and more of
his hard earned pace
but mother nature is kind to her
strangest son
and every hill has a
fly by the seat of your pants
whoop whoop laughing
breeze in you hair bugs in your teeth
downhill
shift to vision miles distant from
that smile
the cycle lay in the weeds by the river
broken
the night obscures
the riderless iron steed
its form twisted
it has expressions of pain in appearance
that paint cannot contain
pain for its own lost
freedom of the road
but pain for its rider
the years count on and on
from that downhill smile moment
that lives on in the heart
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 8:57 AM UTC
Morning, good morning!
What a pleasant feeling.
Look out of your window sill
Birds chirping down hill
Rising Sun’s warmness
with an aura of happiness
Dewdrops on rose petals
Moisture on flower beds
Lanes with damp mud roads
Children waiting with bookloads
Men with their tools to workshop
Women with their bags to shop
Each in thoughts of their chores
Or in groups musing at jokes.
As the clock’s hands move forward
with the moving Sun overhead
Look out of your window sill
watch the changes downhill
All energy withered in heat
Life slows down in many a feat
The splendour of dawn faded
As the brightness of light invaded
No musings or jokes on road
None could stand the heat to hold
The empty lanes appear haunted
Silence pervading unhindered.
Look out of your window sill
Watch the Sun’s glare going still
If you enjoyed the day’s siesta
It’s a great blessing after the Fiesta
The evening’s glow at your doorstep
Spreading delight at each footstep
Look around for the actions of mankind
Adept in their chosen courses behind
With all the lives on earth in the swings
Singing the glory of Almighty on the wings
Oh! What a colourful day to consider
With lovely thoughts of you to ponder!
*************************************************
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 1:25 PM UTC