Archives for posts with tag: mountains

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by Erina Booker

so we made your last-wish trip
right into the Red Centre
the country of belonging
where spirit sings in your bones
and light splits into pure spectrum colours
from red dirt to violet rocks

I’m still living this
though you are not,
photos tumble from phones
as startling as spiders
from a drainpipe —
a deluge of memory
that bends me in two

and now a print is framed
gold dingoes
red dirt
Kata Tjuta
with its a cappella chorus
violet on the horizon,
another relic

I hold it firmly against me
and all I can think is
“I got you, babe.”

©Erina Booker

Previously published in the author’s collection A Cobbled Path (2017). 

PHOTO: Entrance to Uluru (Ayers Rock) climbing point (Australia).  Photo by Alexander Cimbal, used by permission.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Uluru, also known as Ayers Rock, is a large sandstone rock formation in the southern part of the Northern Territory in central Australia. Uluru is sacred to the Pitjantjatjara, the Aboriginal people of the area, known as Anangu. The area around the formation is home to an abundance of springs, waterholes, rock caves and ancient paintings. Uluru is listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Uluru and Kata Tjuta, also known as the Olgas, are the two major features of the Uluṟu-Kata Tjuṯa National Park.

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NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: From early schooling, Australian children learn geography of Australia, included in which is the central region, containing the iconic rock monolith Uluru, and the “singing rocks” of Kata Tjuta.  These are set within vast stretches of red desert, and close to many other significant rock formations, gorges, and billabongs (water holes). Aboriginal myths and legends concerning the creation of the land during the Dreaming, or Dream Time, abound. Many mythical creatures were responsible for the creation, and one that is well-known, in different localities, is the Rainbow Serpent. A home of the Rainbow Serpent is contained within the structures of Uluru. It is both a mystical and alluring landmark. My late-husband had wanted to climb Uluru, 1.6 kms of near-vertical ascent, since he was seven years old, and despite being fatally ill, we set off to do this. Success was heavily against the odds, but against those enormous odds, he succeeded. It was truly a remarkable feat, and an essential event with which to mark his life’s span.

AUTHOR’S PHOTO CAPTION: A photo of my late-husband Garry in the Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park, Australia (2015).

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Erina Booker is a poet, musician, and counselor in Sydney, Australia. She has eight published collections of poetry, contributes to journals and anthologies, is a member of the Fellowship of Australian Writers, and the North Shore Poetry Project. She collaborates with a digital artist living in Ithaca, New York, writing ekphrastic poetry to accompany his artworks. They have also produced a book together, Coalescence, Erina Booker and David Kessler (Blurb Books, 2014). Erina gives seminars on the craft and forms of poetry in Australia, and internationally to school children, via Flip-Grid. She contributes ekphrastic poetry to art and craft galleries, and judges competitions. Her books are largely available through Lulu Press, though the latest A Cobbled Path is available from inhousepublishing.com.au. She has a page titled Uneven Wings on Facebook.

Maroon Bells
Lost on Maroon Bells Trail
by Barbara Leonhard

I.
The Maroon Bells chime,
So long, dear. May you dance
& sway with the breeze
In our floral meadows.
Do you know the edibles?
The wind ruffles my hair as I hike out.
II.
An old man limps from around a bend.
I take his course, turning right,
Not left. The path narrows,
But well-marked steps
Pin me to a destination
Down a steep hill on my behind.
               The old guy did this?
I call for my husband, who had run ahead.
III.
A clearing opens, & prior travelers
show no sense of direction.
Their prints scatter like whitetail deer
Fleeing the hungry cougar.
I call for my husband over & over
& look for his shoe size.
IV.
He runs back to check on his mate,
But the two stragglers far behind her
had surpassed her stride.
               She can outpace those guys! WTF?
Bearing a 50-pound pack,
He sprints like a mountain goat fleeing wolves
To inform rangers.
V.
Sun splinters through spots of shade.
               Where am I? Lost!
               Gone from sight!
The creek, dear! The Bell clang.
               Dizzy, I stumble. Up? Down?
I call his name again & again.
               Some prints smell of animal.
               Large cat!?
Dear, run up the hill! The hill!
VI.
Pursued by hot breath,
I scramble up a slope,
Grabbing hold of the arms of Aspens,
To an overlook of the trail.
               Help! Help!
                         Are you Barbara?
                         Your husband is looking for you!!
I am lifted out of the abyss by wind
Resounding in a chorus of bells. 

PHOTO: The Maroon Bells in the fall, at sunrise by Anton Foltin, used by permission. Note: The Maroon Bells are two peaks in the Elk Mountains, Maroon Peak and North Maroon Peak, separated by about one-third of a mile. The mountains are about 12 miles southwest of Aspen, Colorado. Both peaks exceed 14,000 feet.

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NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: A few years ago, in Colorado, I became lost while hiking on the wide and well-used Maroon Bells Trail after a night of camping on Crater Lake. Fatigued, I took a wrong turn and became lost for almost two hours.

PHOTO: The author,  resting in a Maroon Bells meadow after dancing and swaying in the breeze (August 1995).

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Barbara Harris Leonhard is a writer, poet, and blogger. Her work appears in Phoebe, MD: Poetry + Medicine, Well Versed 2020, Spillwords, FREE VERSE REVOLUTION, Heretics, Lovers and Madmen, Go Dog Go Café, Silver Birch Press, Amethyst Review (pending), Pillbaby.com, and Vita Brevis. She is the author of Discoveries in Academic Writing, which is based on her years of teaching English as a Second Language at the University of Missouri.

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GREENLAND’S ICY MOUNTAINS (Excerpt)
by William McGonagall

Greenland’s icy mountains are fascinating and grand,
And wondrously created by the Almighty’s command;
And the works of the Almighty there’s few can understand:
Who knows but it might be a part of Fairyland?
***
Read “Greenland’s Icy Mountains” in its entirety at poetryfoundation.org.

Photo: Mountains near Aappilattoq (Nanortalik), Greenland.

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Zazen on Ching-t’ing Mountain
By Li Po

The birds have vanished down the sky.
Now the last cloud drains away.
 
We sit together, the mountain and me,
until only the mountain remains.
***
Zazen on Ching-t’ing Mountain” by Li Po, translated by Sam Hamill, appears in Crossing the Yellow River: Three Hundred Poems from the Chinese (BOA Editions Ltd., 2000).

ART: “Fuji, mountains in clear weather” (Red Fuji) by Katsushika Hokusai (1831)

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FARM NOTES (Excerpt)
by Simon J. Ortiz

…”What would you say that the main theme
of your poetry is?”
“To put it as simply as possible,
I say it this way: to recognize
the relationships I share with everything.”

I would like to know well the path
from just east of Black Mountain
to the gray outcropping of Roof Butte
without having to worry
about the shortest way possible.

NOTE: With an elevation of nearly 10,000 feet, Roof Butte is the highest peak of the Chuska Mountains, which run in a north-northwest direction across the Arizona-New Mexico border.

PHOTO: “Roof Butte” found at surgent.net.

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THERE IS A MOUNTAIN
Lyrics by Donovan Leitch

Look upon my garden gates a snail, that’s what it is.
Look upon my garden gates a snail, that’s what it is.
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.
The caterpillar sheds its skin to find a butterfly within.
Caterpillar sheds its skin to find a butterfly within.
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain.
Oh Juanita, oh Juanita, oh Juanita, I call your name.
For the snow will be a blinding sight to see as it lies on yonder hillside.
Look upon my garden gates a snail, that’s what it is.
Look upon my garden gates a snail, that’s what it is.
Caterpillar sheds its skin to find a butterfly within.
Caterpillar sheds it skin to find a butterfly within.
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.

Photograph: “The Tetons and the Snake River” by Ansel Adams (1942)

Song: Listen to Donovan sing “There is a Mountain” here.

Note: According to Wikipedia, the lyrics to “There is a Mountain” refer to a Buddhist saying attributed to Qingyuan Weixin: Before I had studied Zen for thirty years, I saw mountains as mountains, and rivers as rivers. When I arrived at a more intimate knowledge, I came to the point where I saw that mountains are not mountains, and rivers are not rivers. But now that I have got its [Zen’s] very substance, I am at rest. For I see mountains once again as mountains, and rivers once again as rivers.

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CHOICES
by Tess Gallagher

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 nest 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.

 Photo: Byota Art, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

“Choices” appears in MIDNIGHT LANTERN: New and Selected Poemsby Tess Gallagher (Graywolf Press, 2011)

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Tess Gallagher is a poet, essayist, and short story writer. She attended the University of Washington, where she studied creative writing with Theodore Roethke and later Nelson Bentley as well as David Wagoner and Mark Strand. Her honors include a fellowship from the Guggenheim Foundation, two National Endowment for the Arts awards, the The Maxine Cushing Gray Endowed Libraries Visiting Writers Fellowship (University of Washington), and the Elliston Award for “best book of poetry published by a small press” for the collection Instructions to the Double (1976). (Read more at wikipedia.org.)

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SUMMER HAIKU by Matsuo Bashō (1644-1694)

Along the mountain road

somehow it tugs at my heart —

a wild violet

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DAY’S DRIVING DONE
by Gary Snyder

Finally floating in cool water
red sun ball sinking 
through a smoky dusty haze

rumble of bigrigs,
constant buzz of cars on the 5;
at the pool of Motel 6
in Buttonwillow,
south end of the giant valley,
ghost of ancient Lake Tulare

sunset      splash.

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“Day’s Driving Done” appears in DANGER ON PEAKS, poems by Gary Snyder (Shoemaker Hoard Publishing, 2004). In the photo above, Gary Snyder reads from the collection.

Here’s the book description from Amazon.com:

As a Pulitzer Prize-winning poet, bioregional activist, Zen Buddhist, and reluctant counterculture guru, Gary Snyder has been a major artistic force in America for over five decades, extending far beyond the Beat poems that first brought his work into the public eye.

Danger on Peaks begins with poems about Snyder’s first ascent of Mount St. Helens in 1945 and his learning that atomic bombs had been dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki on the morning of his descent. Containing work in a surprising variety of styles, creating an arc-shaped trail from these earliest climbs to what the poet calls poems “of intimate, immediate life, gossip and insight,” Danger on Peaks is Snyder’s most personal work ever.

Born on May 8 1930, Gary Snyder turns 83 today — and we’d like to wish this superb poet a very happy birthday.

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THERE IS A MOUNTAIN

Song Lyrics by Donovan Leitch

Look upon my garden gates a snail, that’s what it is.
Look upon my garden gates a snail, that’s what it is.
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.
The caterpillar sheds its skin to find a butterfly within.
Caterpillar sheds its skin to find a butterfly within.
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain.
Oh Juanita, oh Juanita, oh Juanita, I call your name.
For the snow will be a blinding sight to see as it lies on yonder hillside.
Look upon my garden gates a snail, that’s what it is.
Look upon my garden gates a snail, that’s what it is.
Caterpillar sheds its skin to find a butterfly within.
Caterpillar sheds it skin to find a butterfly within.
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.

Photograph: “The Tetons and the Snake River” by Ansel Adams (1942)

Song: Listen to Donovan sing “There is a Mountain” here.

Note: According to Wikipedia, the lyrics refer to a Buddhist saying attributed to Qingyuan Weixin: Before I had studied Zen for thirty years, I saw mountains as mountains, and rivers as rivers. When I arrived at a more intimate knowledge, I came to the point where I saw that mountains are not mountains, and rivers are not rivers. But now that I have got its [Zen’s] very substance, I am at rest. For I see mountains once again as mountains, and rivers once again as rivers.