Poetry Marathon

Woodland Pattern bookstore’s annual (15-hour) poetry marathon was a blast. I read during the hour sponsored by Riverwest Currents. A warm and welcoming community of writers and poets! Many of my poems are inspired by family memories and reflections of life experience with all its ups and downs. Check out Lake Michigan Stones & Keeper of the Mountains…

Lake Michigan stones.jpg  Lake Michigan Stones

He used to scan the pebbly beach to choose

Take my hand

Nestle the rock in crescent crook of thumb and forefinger

Guide my elbow. Mimic the jerk, the flick of the wrist. Laugh.

Near the end, he would stand, unsteady

Cough and gasp for breath

Gaze at the shimmering blue

Glance down with a smile. Nod, as if to say, So many different rocks.You choose.

Now, I fling. One, two, three. Across the bubbling surf

Lake Michigan stones

Border my backyard garden

Lake Michigan stones

Polished circles held by silver wire, dangle from my earlobes

Lake Michigan stones

Comfort the top of my father’s gravestone

Lake Michigan stone

Amulet in my pocket

Image result for mountain drawingKeeper of the Mountains 

You keep the mountains for yourself

Who gave you license to

Claim nature as your own

When days on earth are few


Pacific Crest, Rockies high

Appalachian trails

Beckon, call, pull, seduce

Grass greener on the other side


Tricked out van, provisions packed

Sleep in big box parking lots

Miles logged away from love

Set off, solo tracks


Why do you keep the mountains for yourself

Claim nature as your own


A boy’s club born way back when

Stay out partner, wife and friend

Yearning for a stripped down life

Vistas grand with few in sight


The path you forge is narrow

No room for hands held side by side

Or being lost together


Something changed while I slept

You now prefer to walk alone

Footsteps carry you away

The road is now your home


If you keep the mountains for yourself

Claim nature as your own


In heavy boots

I will not wait

Consumed with grief

A heart that aches


Throw the doors wide open

Let the wind envelope me

Cup is full, pages blank

A story new, untold


No one can ever keep the mountainsfor himself

There is no license to

Claim nature as one’s own

Our days on earth are few

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