"mountainside" poems
What luxury to get mad
about last night's basketball loss
and watch the full moon descending
at the speed the earth turns.
Things could get worse
personally and for the community.
Bombings, killings, anomie
boiling frogs and witches cursing.
The changing climate,
typhoons in the Philippines,
volcanoes and tsunamis, WWII which I missed,
Thanksgiving nor'easter, Easter twister.
What abundance to fast or feast,
your choice, stay inside by the stove
or go outside, climb the mountainside.
Live in a city or small town.
So I raged at the coaches
for their lazy zone defense
like an alien in the bleachers
unable to affect the outcome.
When my sons came home
I yelled at them too. What opulence
to be angry about nothing of consequence
neither stopped by the cops nor slipped on the ice.
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 6:13 AM UTC
lightning never
sees its fire burning
the trees
absent and forlorn
as love can be.
I can feel your
thunder on the
mountainside.
we will tame
the ashes, fan the flames,
and the pray the sky
returns to calm
forgetful sleep.
© Ben Ditmars 2014
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 2:25 AM UTC
In the night, those shadows come alive. So little do i know about this heavy doubt.
Cold wind biting the heart. Trying to figure out where I've been.
Dark winter pulls me closer, now theres a place i'm thinking into the air.
A voice calling, "Who knows but that which seems omitted today, waits for tomorrow?"
Nothing is as it seams, just as beauty leans from the earth in a sunset--a harp for the soul to sing.
But You are life and you are the veil.
Beauty is eternity gazing at her self
But you are eternity and you are the mirror.
And if you want to know truth retire of solving riddles.
We wanderers, ever seeking the lonelier way,
begin no day where we have ended another day;
and no sunrise finds us where sunset left us.
Even while the earth sleeps we travel,
back into dreams.
Ay, my bow rests on my chest.
There is the flame spirit among a starry mountainside.
Oh it was but yesterday we met in a dream. You watched as I built a ship towards your shore.
My spirit goes wandering upon the wind, off to the desert sands, deep beneath the ocean's sound.
I am the gypsey and the fortuneteller, liken an honest thief. No I'm the myth builder and dream master.
who laughs with me when I destroy,
the sand castles of my innocence. The
sun warming my back just as the wicked, and drawing my image locked in a shadow.
Here the soul a battlefield, where
reason and passion become one.
they are the sails of my seafaring soul.
There I found the naked body of my dreams, in silent sleep my spriit walked the path.
I am the star-gazer who feels the power of endlessness, Aware of timelessness and
neverending space. The love in me still
present amidst the scattered fires that
burn in black ink.
Just as the caveman draws his fears on lost walls, speaking of misfortune and
treasures gallore. A fantom ghost in Hade's Fate.
Now my ship wanders forever on a pearlous course but never sinking.
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 12:47 AM UTC
i bathe in serene
sleepy mountainside ledges
kissed by lips of fall
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 10:52 AM UTC
You told me you wanted to die
on the mountainside on the 28th of July.
The same day your mother died.
Chased by your sins shouting melodies that are carved on skin.
The kingdom has fallen and you were loved in the best ways possible by the people you wanted, but now the river overflows all the dreams you once held close to you dearly.
And now here you stand reading the letter that she wrote.
"Keep alive and live past my grave. Grow flowers in the darkest places and bring light into your lungs and breathe the air that smells so sweet. Believe there is a place beyond the hollow ground and believe we'll meet up there one day again, but please do not make that day anytime soon. Climb the trees that the past has planted here and swim to the other edge, always be on the other side. Don't worry if you trip over your own feet. Don't fiddle with the cuts you marked but kiss them each day until they're there no more. Follow the path that leads to the river and watch how it flows gracefully over sharp rocks to make them smooth enough to hold. Early in the morning awake with joy because the sun shines for you and the birds sing for only you to hear. Do this for me, my lion heart."
And you kept that letter in your pocket every day and held the crisp paper in your hands pretending it was hers.
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 12:51 PM UTC
*Shadows sliding down,
Enshrouding the mountainside,
Heralding day's end*
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
My Country Tis of Thee,
Sweet land of liberty-
Or so we sing.
Land where my fathers died-
But my forefathers died in a battle
Trying to keep their slaves;
My fathers killed your fathers
For trying to run away;
My fathers **** your fathers
Cause it's late at night, and
He's reaching for his gun-no, wait,
His ID?
Land of the pilgrim's pride-
But so often we leave out of history
How if it weren't for a Native American,
The pilgrims would've died.
From every mountainside-
Like Stone Mountain in Georgia,
Where Rebel Generals are memorialized,
Where the **** was revived-
God, help me, I can't hear freedom's ring;
I can only hear white-washed history.
From every mountainside-
But these days, the mountain is in my chest,
And liberty's ring sounds a lot different,
And a lot of folks don't like it.
Let freedom ring-
And I want to fight for freedom for all-
#BlackLivesMatter-
I want to help-
HANDS UP, DON'T SHOOT!
But-
I
Can't
Breathe.
Let freedom ring!-
But peaceful protests turn into
Bloodbaths as those who have sworn
To serve and protect are sniped down.
Let freedom ring!-
I try to educate myself
On the side of history not taught-
I've always felt that Nat Turner was the bad guy,
But these days I'm questioning it.
I read "The Meaning of Fourth of July for the *****
by Frederick Douglass
And I read "Bury Me in a Free Land"
by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
and I read "Sympathy"
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
and I read "Letters from Birmingham Jail",
"The Mountaintop Speech", and
"I Have a Dream"
by Dr. King.
When I was younger,
I'd research Dr. King & his colleagues
For fun.
I'd wonder, "If I lived in the Civil Rights era,
What would I have done?"
But when I turned seventeen,
I realized, "I live in a Civil Rights era;
What am I going to do?
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 5:28 PM UTC
By the mountainside,
Hidden from the maps,
In a quiet and solitary life,
Lies a home that I longed for,
I stand on the road,
Barefoot; my feet burning,
The heat couldn’t compare to the warmth of my heart,
Telephone strings drew lines in the blue sky,
Connecting the past and the future,
I am, between the present,
In awe,
In a distance,
Said mountains hugged by the clouds from the east,
Moving lazily along with life,
Bright yellow light caught my eyes,
Rows of sunflowers blooming in the summer,
Beaming with happiness,
Traffic lights winked it’s colours,
Twinkled like the stars in daylight,
My home.
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 8:15 AM UTC
Every weekend at summer camp the
Memories of the midnight walks we made,
The rushing of the silvery creeks
As well as the daily art and games,
Entertainment as well as molding clay,
The mountainside at night gave good
Presence, the moon offering her halo,
With the memory of endless essence so,
During this time of adventurous fun,
A story telling we campers would all go.
Her raspy voice, I can remember well,
Those cute sparkly playful brown eyes,
We walked side by side, she told me that
The truth was being denied, she was a
Girl in disguise, how I dream of her
In Garnet, Alexandrite. That feeling of total trust,
Now I will probably never be close to
Anyone I love again, already grown old,
To old to ever dream, but what a dream,
A lovely bliss to know that she was my friend.
One day, when the time is right, we'll find it,
This feeling again, of wild spirited joy, campfires,
Of following the forest path, now innocence lost,
A time that is long-gone and past, and if it
Never happens again, the darkness of night
With quiet whispering, story time moon light,
I will never forget her, never will I forget that
Beautiful freckled face, those beady eyes,
No, never forget you, not for all time.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 6:43 PM UTC
I wish I could love my life and love myself
a little bit more,
fall on my hands and knees at every chance
and praise the life I lead.
I wish I didn't hate myself quite as much
and I wish I didn't recoil at the idea of my life,
the Grimm's fairy tale where Hansel and Gretel got eaten,
Rapunzel never threw down her hair
and Snow White was never kissed by Prince Charming.
The hatred burns hotter when I think of myself,
poor little rich girl,
sat in luxury in front of a warm fire,
belly full,
as thousands of kids in Africa bloat to death with paper thin limbs,
families in the Middle East are massacred and scattered across their countries barren landscapes,
innocent, too soon nearly corpses whither away in hospital beds,
sinking their teeth into whatever life they have left, clinging on.
I'm stable on the mountainside.
My family have never even seen a gun.
I haven't missed a meal in my entire nineteen years.
What the hell do I have to complain about?
My unhappiness disgusts me nearly as much as I disgust myself.
Sitting on a damp bus,
watching beads of rain rush down the dusty windows in diagonals,
like meteors crashing into Earth,
I curse.
I curse the vehicle,
I curse the safe home it's taking me back to,
the three course meal it's taking me from.
It's ******* sick.
I wish I could smile and mean it.
I wish I could love and not hate.
I wish I could love myself.
I'm so sorry for not being able to fully appreciate my life,
for taking it for granted,
for sounding like a spoiled brat.
You probably hate me as much as I hate myself.
I.
I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I
*******
I.
That's a vowel I'm going to try and use less of
(at least after this poem),
I promise.
Oh the irony.
I am not looking for sympathy.
I am not looking to be compared to a dying child on the street.
I am not asking for a single kind word.
I just ask for a bit of forgiveness.
I don't blame you if you can't seem to find any.
Just know I'm sorry
and I'm going to try.
Now.
*A
E
-
O*
U
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 4:25 PM UTC
quantity
the numerical elements
lacking order
like chaos
in a sea of
red
so vivid and uniform
the parade of bishops look like
a stream of hot lava
pouring their way down
the mountainside to the pope
or perhaps
a bird
delivering its message on
wings so sharp, jagged
cutting through the blue sky
essential
its message
fundamental to the core
of the earth, of the heavens
without it,
nothing
Feb 7, 2011
Feb 7, 2011 at 9:28 PM UTC
We look at the sky
peering up beyond
beyond the last birds seeking home
and the last rays of sun sinking behind the clouds
but generally we see nothing
it takes complete darkness
to really see what lies
in the big black beyond
but even then we forget
the millions of miles separating
us and the stars
twinkling almost sadly in the distance
We are made of stardust
yes, that is true
basic elements connect us all
in hues of an artist's color wheel
but why do we acknowledge
something so far
when we are really more like what is right beneath our feet
Dirt
overlooked but completely necessary
allowing us to exist in our natural form
something we touch
and through that touch
we feel the energy of the world
Flow
flowing like the blood through our veins
flowing like the river down a mountainside
flowing like the song out a bird
like the ocean 'round a great whale
like the air into our lungs
like the tears from our eyes
just like the feelings from our hearts
Feb 22, 2023
Feb 22, 2023 at 2:05 PM UTC
My eye is never satisfied;
My ear is never filled...
By the beauty of a mountainside,
Or songs that give me chills
Every sight – a hollow view,
I look for more and more
Every sound – an empty cue,
Nothing to answer for
---
My eye is never satisfied;
My ear is never filled...
Ten thousand times I must have cried,
Then smiled – lied – with skill
Everything I see today
Will be, tomorrow, gone
Every sound will fade away –
A shrill inside a yawn
---
My eye is never satisfied;
My ear is never filled...
Does Meaning ever coincide
With life, and hope, and thrill?
I dream this dream, within a dream –
No substance, light, or power
I sing this song, without a sound –
My voice, the wind, devours
---
My eye is never satisfied;
My ear is never filled...
I might as well be groping blind,
Deafened – senses killed
I long to see that final sight
And hear that final word,
To show me Something in this night,
And assure me that I’ve Heard
---
But…
Maybe, I never, seeing, See
And never, hearing, Hear
Because the problem is IN ME:
This heart of death and drear...
This heart, it must be satisfied;
This heart, it must be filled!
For, we all see from deep inside;
The heart always distills...
.
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 4:56 PM UTC
Where's the man whose love is big enough
To catch a waterfall?
Whose rain slicker is sturdy enough to let things roll
Who isn't afraid to stare down a stream
Or look a storm right in the eye?
This man doesn't run;
The water-bearer--
On his shoulders he lifts the weight of love.
Do you know how many times I've seen
A man turn and run away from me
Instead of rushing to the sea?
He trickles away from feeling;
He dries up.
No, the man I'm speaking of
Is more than an oasis in a desert of difficulty;
He is a full-on river
Gaining speed
As he rolls down the mountainside
Carving canyons as he goes
Defeating the foes
That try to make us hide
from our emotions
--In fact, this man feels oceans
And never turns back
On his decisions
Doesn't reconsider the love he's given
or what he lacks
Because when he lacks, he makes more.
This is the secret of persistence
That keeps the sea kissing the shore
Because at times the tide gets pulled back by the force of the moon
But this man keeps sovereignty over the moment, knowing that soon
He will come crashing back onto her shore
And she will be waiting.
Yes, the earth would wait
Solid as a rock
for his return-
Her faith unshakable,
Though she is moved by his caresses.
She remains ever the same,
But she is molded, changed
By his loving form.
Made even more beautiful
By his presence.
Where is a man like this?
I've yet to find
One with such ardent purpose of mind
As to sweep his lady love
Off her feet, in a great flood
Of kisses and hugs
and promises fulfilled
The man who has an immutable will
And an unalterable course
Who dissolves the rock
And inscribes his love into the very earth
Not just by strength or force,
but perseverance
And resolve for all he's worth.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 11:55 PM UTC
Banked up against a terraced mountainside
photogenic pristine rows
of blasting green
rows of manicured waterways
with two buffaloes treading ballet-like
between squelching mud and green shoots
the paddy fields stayed buoyant
all season through.
Come harvesting time
and thrashing the sunburied ripe
tendrils of husk and seed
along threshing traffic wheels
the husk sought divorce from
the long tongued long grained
wives -and parted ways.
Soon the pudding spent its silky smooth sexiness
on a plate of punchy aromatic costumes
that invaded the senses and palate
in sensual smoothness. Oh my!
Ricebowl pudding
of the worlds staple.
Author Notes
Gluttony beckons just now!
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 6:45 PM UTC
This one I will refuse to destroy me,
Pick me up, toss me out and leave me in the morning;
The loneliness that echoes inside sets her free.
Spare the delicate moment of bliss or ecstasy
When day comes, abandon hope and leave me in the mourning
This one I will refuse to destroy me.
Dawn awakens the oblivion- the disillusioned fairy
Passionate sunlight erupts the stillness of dreamless dreaming,
The loneliness that echoes inside sets her free.
As the fire licks at the mountainside, leaving behind its vengeful debris,
Last night ignited this hateful inferno you are afflicting
This one I will refuse to destroy me.
Thunderbolt! Durga cast down the Depraved one, while he
Creeps into the naked night like a coward: fleeing,
The loneliness that echoes inside sets her free.
Tangled beneath sheets and limbs of a parted sea
It was only with your blind eyes you left, haunting
This one I will refuse to destroy me,
The loneliness that echoes inside sets her free.
Sep 7, 2010
Sep 7, 2010 at 8:03 PM UTC
Peter built a paper boat
Which he could float about the sea
To hidden spots of lonely coast
Where not a ghost or man would be
He painted words along her bough
That soon would plough and skip and trot
Between the waves that rose and falled
The boat was called 'Forget Me Not'
He bid his wife a fond goodbye
The tide was high when he embarked
He drifted from his tiny cove
While weather drove and seagulls larked
He set his course horizon bound
For solid ground of ****** shore
As darkness came he made a bed
To keep his head above the floor
The voyage took him straight and true
Across the blue, toward the sun
But soon a tongue of lightening spat
And thunder rattled like a gun
The waves encircled hungrily
And angrily about their prey
The tempest heaved with no regret
It blew Forget Me Not away
He found himself all caked in sand
And on a strand of desert beach
Forget Me Not had run aground
But safe and sound from tidal reach
He folded down his paper yacht
And found a spot to build a home
But saved the sail and rudder strings
To forge some wings and daily roam
He glided high and long and wide
Past mountainside and shore to shore
And through the night he forged a blade
And with it made a lumber saw
He felled the trunk and snared the beast
And cooked a feast to celebrate
The rain it sought to disagree
But quick was he to remonstrate
The moonlight waxed and waned apart
And on his heart a longing formed
For home and his beloved bride
For fireside and there be warmed
And so he took the house he'd made
From humid shade of seldom oak
He set the island to his aft
And cried and laughed the words he spoke
They matched the words he'd lately hewn
Beneath the moon in shady spot
He carved into that seldom tree
'Remember me, forget me not'
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 10:23 AM UTC
I am a stone.
Long ago my mother gave me birth.
From her molten womb in the cooling rain I took shape.
Wind and water gently washed me
And smoothed my hard edges.
Through riven clouds the bright sun warmed me,
And the gray mist wove me mossy coverings.
Day after day I listened to the wind in the heather
And the cry of sea birds wheeling overhead.
Men found me on the mountainside,
Stripped me of my mossy cloak
And hauled me away on a cart of wood,
To be used for the glory of God.
With sharp tools and hammer blows they fashioned me
And gave me hard edges.
They stacked me high on top of other stones,
Fitted me snug and sealed me in.
Through narrow windows the bright sun colored the floor below,
And in the darkness voices rose with scented smoke,
Singing of the glory of God.
Men warred with other men, took each other’s lives,
And threw down what they had raised up.
Scorched by angry flames, I fell
From that high place to lie broken in the ashes.
Wind and water gently washed me
And smoothed my hard edges.
Through riven clouds the bright sun warmed me,
And the gray mist wove me mossy coverings.
Day after day I listened to the wind in the ruins
And the cry of sea birds wheeling overhead.
A shepherd found me in the grass
And carried me away in his arms.
He nestled me alongside other stones
To keep wandering sheep away from deadly cliffs.
Though riven clouds the bright sun warms us,
And the gray mist weaves us mossy coverings.
Day after day we listen to the wind in the heather
And the cry of sea birds wheeling overhead.
Jan 13, 2019
Jan 13, 2019 at 6:42 PM UTC
What is distance,
But a plane ride
Or an 11 hour drive to the mountainside.
What is distance?
But miles and state lines,
And sunset and sunrise.
What is distance,
But watching loved ones come and go.
What is distance,
But something you can’t feel or touch;
You can write it and hear it.
Isn’t that good enough?
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 9:25 PM UTC
Stay well beautiful childs
Of this night
Of this night forever
My fragile child of strung silver white hair
And that air echoes forever
My silver child of the endless shores
My angel child sing for me
Of dreams and angel things
Stand strong in the evening wind
Bend as though an angel in prayer
And sing for me of the endless
You know it's times like these my child
Where I could spit in the wind
That I could break the evening waves
That like a light in the dark I'm searching for a way to go on
For I've got a reason but she's a distance away
It's been years of searching
The decades echo on
And I'm still here with my long hair and gnarled skin
But it's amazing what a woman can do
So I search on for you
And I'll make her hair the silver streams
And her body the cradle of the valley
And the rising mountain sides
And her lips the sweetest kiss for you
I'll make her ***** so soft and warm
And her voice of angel's harmony
And I'll scratch on in the darkness
Black with my claws until I find her flaws
Even and smooth and her love here just for you
And if I find her flaws
I don't care it's a wide world
And her smile like the sun
Like the gates in the mountainside
And may her river flow and slake our thirst
And if I find her flaws
I'll smooth them over for you
May her crown shine as though the radiance in the sky
And I shall dance in her fires
And her eyes rejoice for we are her lovers
May her breast heave with joy for we are her ones
And if I find her flaws I'll smooth them over for you
And may her belly be deep and dire with the darkest lust for life
And love for me and you
And may her heart burst with love and stand true
As though the bend of that angel in prayer
And the song that sings on in the open air
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 3:33 AM UTC
Tears fall both day and night falling, falling
a heartbreaking cry of mother earth
Doesn't anyone hear the sound of sadness
in the song of every songbird?
There's an echoing cry deep in every valley
a tremble in every tree
And with each piercing cry upon the wind
And every howl of pain
Never ending tears flow and flow like rivers
mixing in with the rain
And with every animal scurrying for cover
searching for a place to hide
Rivers of poison keep on flowing and flowing,
down every mountainside
Alas, boulders and stones have awakened
from their slumber long, so long
And they've begun engraving epic poetry,
brilliant pieces like a sad song
A gift for you and me
Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 8:00 PM UTC
Sometimes the only thing that keeps me from going over the edge
Is imagining myself running, jumping and soaring
Off of the rocky, gray mountainside cliff
Racing towards the pit below
to be crushed by the
unforgiving
earth.
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 4:10 PM UTC
four ****** sisters born in the frozen woods;
emerging from the mind of their older sister,
who is also mother
of the universe;
as the fair sun sets & darkness
comes w/ winds
down from mountains; mother running mad [ ]
out to the field,
shouting kinfolk running from everywhere;
the oldest sister Philosophia wondering aloud
about her sister's things
|
scanning the sky w/ her magical eight-eyes; [ ],
Beautia, watching her slyly; sits
beside her w/ two heads, [ ] one in her arm;
it's no wonder [her lover] has [ ]
gone but
appears at her [ ] cracked window
where she ponders snakes & her faint starlit
father's statues of the
monumental men
of old as he imagined them to be;
brawny & vague; -
[that race of giants]
baby sister nature trots down
the mountainside bringing the music;
she-goats following | her dusty trail's
trail [from below the earth - as from above]
trailing their tails & running ahead; mother,
possessed long into the night; [shipbuilding,
sailing & navigating was not accomplished
by trial & error; some higher being had to instruct
[generations have to pass for
mankind to learn one thing] until electricity
men gunned each other down
in the streets & parks
| & used swords [ ]
| the garrulous collection of
hairy morons, | if only
to get them [since the Bomb humanity
hasn't learned a thing; now,
in a new era, [we have yet to learn]
wiping out the race
through **** starvation & ******
in the wide field [ ] of the wide plateau, [ ]
arms spread, | flat on her back where the
genius sky echoes
ring out from the barbarous throat of
the fourth sister
Fortuna, who has seen it all w/ the sun's eyes;
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 10:25 AM UTC