"paddlers" poems
Hello swans with your brown signets
On the near edges where the weeds blend
And the green meets the trusted stoney bed
You frighten a little with those huge wings
The strength to **** if fear struck an orange eye.
The ducks and drakes trailing fluffy ducklings
So linger daring the hands of bread and biscuits
A continuity of return until fat and bloated, stop.
Their tail feathers sharing a twitching line march
As they swim back to the safety of the reed beds.
Love Mary
Jun 15, 2018
Jun 15, 2018 at 10:27 AM UTC
Young men fit for battle,
too young for war but paddled
with swagger down the Skeena.
A week on the water, lakes and rivers,
bodies of water that take if you giver,
but this one this day promised what it delivered.
A vortex, canoes lined up to paddle hard,
as the hole in the middle would drag a canoe,
to the depths, to the depths, without release.
One canoe and wait then another then one more,
three were through, number four went round
and round the eddy they held steady as five went
past, then they, four escaped the mighty swirl without
cheer.
Six was with the whirl, they paddled hard as
they were drawn near the rocks and cliff,
a broken paddle, and they limped away, clear
of the gulf.
Seven went and were hell bent, to get through,
all experienced paddlers too, what success,
number eight held four of us, weighted low down
with only three paddlers too, round we went and
then again, nine passed us and cleared the danger,
seven came back to encourage and be near...
What happened was what they feared the whirlpool
dragged us closer, we weren't dizzy, but tired of
rounding the same bend, breaking waves but not enough,
tiring out as we were pulled in again, round and in again.
We needed to split the curve cut the outside wave
and across the break, near the rocks and in the wake
of the river wash and the base of the cliff,
we had to all paddle hard and when and if
we broke free we would join our brothers guilt free,
if we did not
we would have
been a story on
a page of some
deaths to drowning
while at a cadet camp.
the boat's bow broke the waves one two and three,
missed the rocks, the cliff, almost free, voices raised,
an angry fight to live and have done battle with no loss,
we were finally free three companions and me, tossed
by the fourth wave, and I looked back into the hole
of the maelstrom, I looked back lesson learned,
passion for life, a must you have to yearn
for life otherwise, for love, point your bow,
dig your paddle in
and look back no more.
There is more rough water ahead.
©DWE102013
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 1:31 AM UTC
a pale pink vin rosé,
just a hint of a blushing pastel,
Domaine Ott, a French emigre,
an early afternoon chilled thriller,
the summer drink of the choix,
for us, symbol of summer
so cold
stippled beads of moisture
form on the outside,
your thumbprint
indents this exterior landscape,
marking territory as if you were
a first time explorer,
leaving behind your personal flag
to make sure everybody knows,
you were here first...
this of course,
but the icing on the cake
in the domain of the moment,
when perfect is the rule,
and the existence of life's objections,
all overruled
just us, the guests gone,
watching a living seascape channel
providing a endless parade of entertaining
sails, kayaker, kite paddlers on the wings of colored silk
and then peace,
peace of nothing, a summer silent drink
that warms the essence
the sun still high just enough,
cumulus interference refracts its rays,
but to insure the perfection of this
domain of the moment,
the breeze pretends it's human,
caressing you everywhere, even there...
you do not deny these blessings,
gratitude is great and never forgotten,
for you believe this can happen again,
a view, a voyage, a resting place in
the domain of the moment...
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 5:52 PM UTC
Hello swans with your brown signets
On the near edges where the weeds blend
And the green meets the trusted stoney bed
You frighten a little with those huge wings
The strength to **** if fear struck an orange eye.
The ducks and drakes trailing fluffy ducklings
As they swim back to the safety of the reed bed.
Love Mary
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 8:31 AM UTC
The swimmers and paddlers.
Hello swans with your brown signets
On the near edges where the weeds blend
And the green meets the trusted stoney bed
You frighten a little with those huge wings
The strength to **** if fear struck an orange eye.
The ducks and drakes trailing fluffy ducklings
So linger daring the hands of bread and biscuits
A continuity of return until fat and bloated, stop.
Their tail feathers sharing a twitching line march
As they swim back to the safety of the reed beds.
Love Mary
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 1:15 PM UTC