A Thomas Hawkins Aug 2010

Is it wrong to want to see you
to know just where we stand
To take a walk along the beach
together hand in hand.

To talk about each other
and say just what we feel
about this and that and everything
just the thought seems so surreal

Is it possible to find someone
who's both a lover and a friend
As our boundaries of discussion
have no limits, have no end

And that for me, well its a first
to be so open, laid so bare
yet without slightest hesitation
we let ourselves be guided there

I cant help but think and wonder,
as I sit here on the sand
when we'll walk here together
you and I just hand in hand.

Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins
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Megan H Aug 2014

You see,
The thing is,
I'm standing on an abandoned road
That goes two directions.
I can only choose to go one way
Because the distances are so far.
I need to find my direction
And go that way.
But,
I have no car
No bike.
I must walk.

You have to work for the things you want.
all by leigh Mar 2015

And I had to walk away
I was just hoping at least he noticed I didn't run

the title is a thought for after the poem
Toni Seychelle Feb 2013

The ground beneath the stiff leaves is frozen. The cold, brisk air invades my lungs, I exhale, my breath visible. I step over fallen branches and tugged by thorny vines. A red tail hawk screeches overhead, this is a sign of good luck. There is no path, no trail to mark our way, just an old, flat railroad bed surrounded by walls of shale, blown up for the path of the train so long ago. The only ties to remind of the rail are the rotting, moss covered ties that once were a part of a bridge that would have carried the train over a small creek between two steep hills. I see a fox burrow, and it's escape hatch is one of the hollowed railroad ties. I want to be a fox... The trek down this hill is not easy, thorny blackberry bushes and fallen trees impede progress. At the bottom, the small, bubbly creek is frozen at the edges, traveling under rocks and continuing its ancient path. I look up the hill that I just descended, and wonder how the return will go. Keep moving. The next hill will be easier, there are no thorny tangles, just treacherous leaf litter that will give under my feet if I don't find the right footing. The trick is to dig my boots into the ground as if I'm on steps. These hills are steep. Finally at the top, I look back at this little spring valley, I'm not that high up, but what view. Here, there is a dilapidated tree stand, falling apart from years of neglect and weather. Surrounded by deep leaf litter, there is a patch of rich dark earth, a buck has marked his spot, his round pellets are nearby. The saplings catch my hair as I walk by, and at these moments I am thankful for this cold snap that took care of the ticks. A creepy feeling takes over me, so thankful for this snap. A few feet further, as I watch where I am walking, another tussled bit of earth and I notice some interesting scat. It's furry and light grey; I poke it with my stick and find a small skull when I turn a piece over. Owl. I continue my walk, I didn't come here to play with poo. The last time I took this hike was three years ago, on a similar frigid day. It was a lot easier to make it through the shale valleys. Last summer, a wind storm felled trees and took out power for two weeks. The evidence of that derecho is clear here in this untouched forest. I remembered a tree, which now is a fallen giant, that had lost it's bark. The bark had separated and laid around this tree like a woman's skirt around her ankles. Now the tree lies with it's bark. I pass another tree I recognize whose branch extends out but zig zags up and down, as if it had three elbows. The tree signifies my next move, to descend from the flat railroad bed, down to a creek that flows through the tunnel that would have carried the train. The creek is considerably larger than the last creek I could step across. Descending towards the creek leads me over moss covered rocks and limbs, still bearing snow. Outside the tunnel, the hill walls are large stones, covered in a thick layer of moss, some of which has started to fall off due to heaviness. There's a sort of ice shelf in the creek, it's three layers thick and can support my one hundred and twenty pounds. Laying across the creek is another derecho-felled tree. Some sort of critter has crawled on this, using it to avoid the water below and as a short cut up the hill. His claw marks are covering the the limb, a few are more clear, it looks as if the creature almost slipped off. His claw marks show a desperate cling. I walk through the tunnel, in the mud and water; the creek echoes inside. I look above. There are drainage holes lining the ceiling, one is clogged by a giant icicle. I imagine the train that used to ride over this tunnel, I pretend to hear it and feel the rumbling. The last time we were here, we found cow skeletons. We placed a few heads on branches and one over the tunnel. We stuck a jaw, complete with herbivore teeth, into the mossy wall and a hip bone on a sapling. The hip bone reminded us of Predator's mask in the movie. All these bones are turning green. When I was here before, there was a bone half submerged in the creek; I had taken a picture of it but today, it isn't here. I'm sure it was washed away. After our exploration of the previous visit, we turned back. We are cold again, can't stay in one place too long. I climb through the deep leaf litter and over the rocks back to the railroad bed. Passing all the things I've already seen and spotting things I missed. I find two more fox burrows. They utilized the shale rock and burrowed underneath the jutting formations. Hidden coming from the south, the gaping openings seem welcoming from the north. My friends, the spelunkers and climber, want to descend into the darkness but I remind them, it is an hour to sundown, our trek is hard enough with overcast daylight. Wisdom prevails. We pass a tree, we didn't notice before, that was struck by lightening. The cedar tree was split in two and fell down the shale wall. I see the evidence of the burn and a smoldered residue at the base. Nature has a cruel way of recycling. The downed tree still has snow on it and the path of a raccoon is visible, I like the paws of coons. Though the way is flat, the walls of shale tower above us, limiting routes. At one point I can't see through the fallen trees I have to pass through. I have to crab walk under, crawl over, duck again and find my way around the thorny collections of bare black berry bushes. Finally into a clearing, still surrounded by sharp shale, there is another wall covered in inches of thick, healthy moss. I place my hand, taking time to stroke the furry wall. My hand leaves an imprint. I wonder how long that will last.. Back down the steep hill up and up the thorny tangle. I know I'm on the right path up, I see the fox's hole through the railroad tie, and his entrance burrow up the hill. Going down was definitely easier. The summit is literally overgrown with thorns, there is no clear path through. It is, again, impossible to see through the tangle of limbs and saplings and more thorns. Somehow we make it through. We are close to breaking off this path. We know this by the remains of a cow skeleton that more than likely fell from the top of the shale cliff. Femurs and ribs and jaws abound. On the last trip, we placed a hip bone in the "Y" of a sapling. The young tree has claimed it, growing around it. We add a piece of jaw to the tree's ornamentation and move on. We climb down from the railroad bed to our car - parked on the side of the road with a white towel in the window so that no one suspects a group of people walking through private property, past faded NO TRESPASSING signs.

When I undress for bed later, there are many small scratches up and down my legs from those damned thorny vines. I'm okay with that, it's better than searching for ticks in my head.

I couldn't write a 'poem' about this hike. It was too full of nature.
MdAsadullah Dec 2014

I want to talk talk talk;
But you give judgement;
And you walk walk walk.

Marinela Marie Nov 2012

I walked along this path through the trees
Lo and behold, I fell on my knees
For what do I see, but this vision of beauty
Fuck, no, tis a hunk, boy was he a cutie
His muscles well oiled, as he flexed before me
My heart all a flutter, knew not how to be
So what do I do, shall I play the shy dame?
Or should I strip naked regardless of shame.
A moment had passed, I planned what to do
Despite the feeling that I knew I would rue
I walked to this god, who stood still as I watch
Looked into his eyes, as my hand grabbed his crotch
“how dare you seduce me! I’m a woman of grace!”
“you shall not demean me, no shame I will face!”
And so I turned to walk away
I would not let this man ever sway
To let me lose the virtue I gained
Despite my desire, oh how I have pained
I turned my head to take one more look
So many I’ve shunned, I could write a book
The doubt in my head took hold of me
And doubled my pace, so that I may be free

…..then I went to the 7 eleven to buy batteries

db cooper Feb 2015

Let's set out together
Explore the breeze
We'll walk hand in hand
Beneath the trees
In no particular direction
No direction we need
These adventures of the unknown
Leave us freed

Lazhar Bouazzi Nov 2016

I took a walk in La Goulette yesterday
From the “Bridge-of-the-Casino” to the port.
The things I saw on my shiny way
So simple they were; here is a report:
II
Sea snakes under a blue bridge did frolic
As hardware stores displayed paint in their windows.
The water snakes performed some dance symbolic
And the paint braved the dark rust from a distance.
III
And I, hastening to my liquid address,
Shot a side look at a man in a dress,
And hoped the blue water in the White Sea*
Would wash the wound bleeding in my memory.

© LazharBouazzi, 16/11/16 (revised Nov. 17)

*The Mediterranean is called in Arabic The White Middle Sea.
Styles May 2014

Stranger; looking away.
    Smiled, then she walked away.
    Sexy hips shaking as she walks a way.
    Stranger; looking a way, as she walks away.

Ignatius Hosiana May 2015

I wish I didn't have these arms you scratched
This broken heart you deeply touched?
Imagine the idea of making no damn oath
If I wasn't given such a sincere mouth
What if I had no arms to hold you tight
Or I were an imbecile whose mind thought nothing right
What if I was a strengthless cripple who couldn't fight
Imagine I had no eyes to see you the day we met
If I hadn't taken that road that sealed our fate
If I was soul-less, if that makes some sense
And lived free of guilt without conscience
To walk out on every lady like you did to me
Imagine it was sold ,the much I'd pay to be so mean
What if I wasn't human to trip and madly fall
Or I had no mobile to helplessly answer your call
Imagine I was deaf to apologies or created without ears
Could I have shed these oceans of tears all these years?
Imagine I had no nostrils to master your fragrance
Or palms to get adicted to the softness of your ambiance
If I had a stiff neck which could never turn
Imagine, me without looking back the far I would run
Imagine love was already made and we hadn't made it
Imagine I could decide who charmed me, not fate's merit
Imagine I erasing all the sweet moments and enjoying the sour
Wouldn't my pride still be as high as the Babel tower?
Just take your time, take away my eyes, feet, heart, soul and mind
And see what I'd be, a dark lonesome beast of its kind
So as you're walking away and sending me into a trance
Imagine walking back and this time having no other chance

Thanks to all who have complemented through liking, reading, sharing and inbox ...I'll try to appreciate all personally, but where I fail to shake the beautiful hands of kindness in return, I hope this little message will do. xxxx much love
Pamela Rae Apr 2014

Wondering
how many times
I'll have to ride
this rollercoaster
before it either throws
me or I jump off
and walk away?
Is there a fine
for getting off
before
the ride comes
to a complete stop?

spysgrandson Nov 2011

on the shore
only this morning, as crabs yawned
and wispy waves woke to sun’s call
with a million speckled sparkles of light
I was alone with my thoughts
and your crisp footprints in the sand
the scent of your hands still on me
fading with each mist filled breath I took
you were still there
your seed crawling down my leg
but tides change
and your prints soon filled with salt and sand
and the sun, our benediction only a dreamy minute ago
melted into the craggy bluffs
and I was left to walk alone
without your shivering shaft filling me
or your groping but grateful hands touching me
alone, on my night walk
alone, how I began
and will end, my…
night walk

I sometimes take on the voice of another when I write--in this case, the voice of a woman--not one I have used often
Rockie Apr 2015

Hand in hand
Walking down the road
Skipping with an animal at our heels
or
Hand in hand
Screaming down a rollercoaster
Tears of laughter on our chins
or
Hand in hand
Watching a film in the cinema
Entranced with the popcorn in the adverts
or
Hand in hand
Right next to me
And not in my imagination

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