“poem” by spo0nman is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0
I’ve been writing small poems regularly with the Write Out community, sometimes using the daily prompts by National Park Rangers to consider a theme.
Here are a few of my poems from the past week:
We’re all caretakers
of these mountains,
we are, of buildings
and rivers, of near and
of far, of dams and bridges
and lakes and volcanoes,
of even the scars of what
we’ve done with these lands;
We caretakers, we are not
always gentle with our gifts,
nor always appreciative
of their splendor, this Earth
accepts our flaws, for now,
these battered spaces of quiet
beauty
Such tender
paths on this
tender map
the seasons
always seem to
linger when we
need them most
we pocket the leaf
that maps the tree
that maps the wood
that maps the love
what once was seed
now becomes journey
Black Iron Fence
Tridents
and spears on the
black iron fence
One mile
one quarter,
the perimeter of the
black iron fence
Ten thousand,
seven hundred
distinctly-made pieces,
the skeleton bones of the
black iron fence
Cannon iron;
collected, gathered,
blacksmith-ed, forged,
held, and hammered into the
black iron fence
Sometimes
this river releases
small secrets, broken
shards of pottery
and glass, worn
smooth, cloudy
by the constant embrace
of eddies and currents,
leaving us with more
questions than answers
as to who it was who
came before us
and where they have
gone, since
Peace (in poems of place),
Kevin