Poetry thread

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B the Hiker

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“Dents” By Charlotte Parker

A hydro flask is like a person.
It can start off new, clean,
The perfect shape.
But, if you drop it,
BANG!
It will dent.
And sometimes, those dents,
Are irreversible.
A person can dent too.
You can try to fill a dent,
But it will never be the same.
So think, before you drop your hydro flask.
Because if it dents,
It’s permanent.
 
Went hiking with my dog
Hurt my back while clearing a log
Lost a boot when it was stuck in a bog
Reached treeline and was blinded in the fog
Cleared my eyes to see hikers mooning the Cog
 
Awesome! Thanks for the laughs guys.
Here is my not-as-amusing add:

Hiking is my addiction
Mountains are the high
Mother Nature is my dealer
Terra Firma and the sky
 
Everytime I climb a peak
I know that I will take a leak
I quickly hide behind a tree
And hope that no one can see
 
A hiker set out to climb Lincoln
It's possible he had been drinkin'
He went up like a goat
But got lost on the Throat
As the internet pondered his thinkin'
 
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A boy climbed a mountain and sat on the top
The view made him cry and almost stopped his heart
He went back home and tried to move on
But alas, went back to climbing mountains
and now he can't stop.
 
Here I sit, broken hearted
Dug my hole, and only farted

(updated from the old one first seen on a campground stall decades ago...)
 
The famous poem from the Emmons Glacier on Rainier:

Into a cloud sea far below,
I lonely watched the red sun go.
Then turning, miracle of glad surprise,
enchanted saw the full moon rise.
— C. Y. Schurman
 
Choices

I go to the mountain side
of the house to cut saplings,
and clear a view to snow
on the mountain. But when I look up,
saw in hand, I see a next clutched in
the uppermost branches.
I don't cut that one.
I don't cut the others either.
Suddenly, in every tree,
an unseen nest
where a mountain
would be.

Tess Gallagher
 
I've used the first and last few lines of this in my signature block, here is the rest of it:

Hills

I never loved your plains, your gentle valleys
Your quiet country lanes and pleached alleys
I want my hills, the trail that scorns the hollow
Up, up the ragged shale where few will follow.

Up over wooded crest and mossy boulder
With strong thigh, heaving chest and swinging shoulder
So let me hold my way, by nothing halted
Until at close of day I stand exalted.

High on my hills of dream, dear hills that know me
And then how fair will seem the lands below me
How pure at vesper time the far bells chiming
God, give me hills to climb and strength for climbing!

Arthur Guiterman

A band called "Nightingale" set it to music very nicely on their album "Trois".
 
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