The air warms,
finally thawing the frost
that held my mental gears
frozen into one place,
letting words flow.
Not yet raging,
like the June torrents
coursing through the Little Cottonwood,
that I cross frequently
heading to work.
Nay, just trickles
compared to such streams,
but they flow, at last,
freed of winter's grasp,
to find pages.
Like that stream,
I know my mind
often acts when trying this,
drying up to trickles,
filling after rain.
I press on,
seeking some distant goal,
not marking flood stages reached
as the words tumble
over stony brain,
to page
finally.
8June2016 - Dyfedd Rex
Showing posts with label Nature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nature. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 8, 2016
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
The Lone Observer? - A Poem of Morning Skies.
The sky burned pink
above the Oqquirhs this morn,
telling me, along with aches
the body talks with,
more snow's coming.
Yet the chilly air
did not taste of moisture,
all that wrung out slowly
the last few days
by the inversion.
White clad mountains sat
under that salmon tinged vault,
a band nearly a handspan
above the valley's horizon,
touched with beauty.
Few see this sight,
or take that crucial moment,
to slow down, look around,
inhale a breath deep,
and just enjoy.
For most, the cold
means warming their cars up,
even against the current law
about idling that long,
for their comfort.
Somedays, I feel alone,
the only one enjoying such,
a tiny person amid masses
of rock and ice
that ring me.
Others, someone notes it,
speaks up about the beauty
and leaves me with hope
that not all suffer
blindness to nature.
As I sit here,
sipping coffee, the moment gone,
I wish for a camera,
to share that moment
and its serenity
with others.
12Jan2016 - A Peaceful and thoughtful Dyfedd Rex.
above the Oqquirhs this morn,
telling me, along with aches
the body talks with,
more snow's coming.
Yet the chilly air
did not taste of moisture,
all that wrung out slowly
the last few days
by the inversion.
White clad mountains sat
under that salmon tinged vault,
a band nearly a handspan
above the valley's horizon,
touched with beauty.
Few see this sight,
or take that crucial moment,
to slow down, look around,
inhale a breath deep,
and just enjoy.
For most, the cold
means warming their cars up,
even against the current law
about idling that long,
for their comfort.
Somedays, I feel alone,
the only one enjoying such,
a tiny person amid masses
of rock and ice
that ring me.
Others, someone notes it,
speaks up about the beauty
and leaves me with hope
that not all suffer
blindness to nature.
As I sit here,
sipping coffee, the moment gone,
I wish for a camera,
to share that moment
and its serenity
with others.
12Jan2016 - A Peaceful and thoughtful Dyfedd Rex.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
This is my season.
When the meteors race
across the warm nights,
God's own fireworks show
better than any man-made,
over the few fireflies
dancing over the grass.
I love this time
spent outside in darkness,
staring up at stars,
dreaming of better days,
some in memories only,
others things never happening,
or still to come.
The hot, dog days,
when smoke taints skies
with orange hues throughout,
and the moon hides
let you see them
those trails of light,
Mother Nature's nightly skyrockets.
I like to lie
out under that attraction,
or sit up smoking,
letting the world fade
into that deep black
laying betwixt shimmering points
and just enjoy it.
As dusk falls slowly
the sunset colors blaze,
some nights distant storms
(or ones much closer)
flicker and flare about
like the insects hovering
over fields and lawns.
Some nights stay hot,
others cool off fast,
yet there is always
that show up there,
slowly moving from East
to West's faint glow,
which gives such pleasure.
Call me a fool,
say I'm a bum,
but you cannot find
anywhere on this Earth,
a better free show
than the skies perform
on hot summer evenings.
So, step outside, folks,
look up past glows
your cities cast high
into the dust above
and watch for them,
faint trails and races,
or brilliantly colored fireballs.
Better yet, join me
beyond the light pollution
out in the wilderness,
or some other place
where there are still
just a few lights
scattered far and about.
Look up, and relax,
breath deep, allergies permitting,
and let the tensions
of your daily life
flow off with each
of those fiery trails,
it will feel good.
And, no one complains, if you doze off...
Unlike the theaters or concerts.
Well, if you snore, the crickets and cicadas will,
for ruining their nightly recitals.
22July2014 - Dyfedd Rex
When the meteors race
across the warm nights,
God's own fireworks show
better than any man-made,
over the few fireflies
dancing over the grass.
I love this time
spent outside in darkness,
staring up at stars,
dreaming of better days,
some in memories only,
others things never happening,
or still to come.
The hot, dog days,
when smoke taints skies
with orange hues throughout,
and the moon hides
let you see them
those trails of light,
Mother Nature's nightly skyrockets.
I like to lie
out under that attraction,
or sit up smoking,
letting the world fade
into that deep black
laying betwixt shimmering points
and just enjoy it.
As dusk falls slowly
the sunset colors blaze,
some nights distant storms
(or ones much closer)
flicker and flare about
like the insects hovering
over fields and lawns.
Some nights stay hot,
others cool off fast,
yet there is always
that show up there,
slowly moving from East
to West's faint glow,
which gives such pleasure.
Call me a fool,
say I'm a bum,
but you cannot find
anywhere on this Earth,
a better free show
than the skies perform
on hot summer evenings.
So, step outside, folks,
look up past glows
your cities cast high
into the dust above
and watch for them,
faint trails and races,
or brilliantly colored fireballs.
Better yet, join me
beyond the light pollution
out in the wilderness,
or some other place
where there are still
just a few lights
scattered far and about.
Look up, and relax,
breath deep, allergies permitting,
and let the tensions
of your daily life
flow off with each
of those fiery trails,
it will feel good.
And, no one complains, if you doze off...
Unlike the theaters or concerts.
Well, if you snore, the crickets and cicadas will,
for ruining their nightly recitals.
22July2014 - Dyfedd Rex
Monday, December 16, 2013
Last Morning at Bear Lake - A poem of some time off the streets
Cold air ruled the morn
my last away from the city
as the cracks between clouds rolling in
allowed in the first light of day
that silvery glow, hinted by sky
still a pale blue tint.
Took out the old pipe
loaded it up and lit it,
standing on the broad ledge along hills
watching the roller clouds slowly run over
the Bear River Range and others
as the deer passed through.
A small herd, grazing upwards
after touching the lake for water,
just as curious about my being out
as I was about their lack of fear.
They stood at the driveway bend
watching me smoke this morning.
Three does and a buck,
two points is all he bore,
and smaller than his ladies, by far.
They youngster had a good start, seems
on building his family from scratch
or they were bunching already.
Those rollers caught light southeastward
silver tops over grey-black bellies
and the wispy trailed feathers of white
beneath them spoke of snow they came here
to lay as a blanket soon,
maybe even tonight, up here.
Winter is here, for sure.
The air is cold carrying dampness,
the ground still parched from summer's heat
and Bear Lake is looking pretty low.
The dark sandbar forming well out
from the normal shoreline today.
This is a great place
to escape the city's nasty ways
where some crime prompts the sirens' wails
to wake a man up from sleep
leaving the taste of fear hanging
in a mouth seeking safety.
Headed back soon, I fear.
Back to the streets and crime
once this cabin is winterized and sealed,
to a place I once loved dearly,
but now carry a strong dislike
over the way things go.
The hills call me loud
when out and away like this,
asking me to enter their folds quietly
and offering to swallow me into valleys
that hold a peace rarely disturbed
once the snows piled up.
Now that orange glow pulses
between breaks in the deck above
as a storm slowly rolls over us
driving out the smogs and stagnant airs
the warmer weather brought us lately,
which is good, and bad.
No place to fort up
that is my biggest worry now,
the loss of places I once used
to others and their bad camping manners,
leaving this traveler of the streets
worried he'll need to surrender.
Until I absolutely have to,
I'm staying out of that darkness
down around the shelter, where drugs rule.
Can't take that kind of risk now,
with allergies to their recreational chemicals
forcing me to stay away.
Makes it tougher, for sure.
But I have steel in me,
hidden under the layers of veneer civilization pasted
onto me when society accepted my presence
before turning me out as failure,
even as I held true.
The deer wandered away slowly
and I finished my smoke, chilled.
The winds of winter are rising up
stirring the worries, the cold, my soul.
But within me lingers summer's heat
in my soul and heart.
Waiting to finish this job
I step inside, write this up
and hurry back outside, afraid of missing
some little event or color show here
that will have to carry me
until the spring thaws return.
1December2013 - Dyfedd Rex
my last away from the city
as the cracks between clouds rolling in
allowed in the first light of day
that silvery glow, hinted by sky
still a pale blue tint.
Took out the old pipe
loaded it up and lit it,
standing on the broad ledge along hills
watching the roller clouds slowly run over
the Bear River Range and others
as the deer passed through.
A small herd, grazing upwards
after touching the lake for water,
just as curious about my being out
as I was about their lack of fear.
They stood at the driveway bend
watching me smoke this morning.
Three does and a buck,
two points is all he bore,
and smaller than his ladies, by far.
They youngster had a good start, seems
on building his family from scratch
or they were bunching already.
Those rollers caught light southeastward
silver tops over grey-black bellies
and the wispy trailed feathers of white
beneath them spoke of snow they came here
to lay as a blanket soon,
maybe even tonight, up here.
Winter is here, for sure.
The air is cold carrying dampness,
the ground still parched from summer's heat
and Bear Lake is looking pretty low.
The dark sandbar forming well out
from the normal shoreline today.
This is a great place
to escape the city's nasty ways
where some crime prompts the sirens' wails
to wake a man up from sleep
leaving the taste of fear hanging
in a mouth seeking safety.
Headed back soon, I fear.
Back to the streets and crime
once this cabin is winterized and sealed,
to a place I once loved dearly,
but now carry a strong dislike
over the way things go.
The hills call me loud
when out and away like this,
asking me to enter their folds quietly
and offering to swallow me into valleys
that hold a peace rarely disturbed
once the snows piled up.
Now that orange glow pulses
between breaks in the deck above
as a storm slowly rolls over us
driving out the smogs and stagnant airs
the warmer weather brought us lately,
which is good, and bad.
No place to fort up
that is my biggest worry now,
the loss of places I once used
to others and their bad camping manners,
leaving this traveler of the streets
worried he'll need to surrender.
Until I absolutely have to,
I'm staying out of that darkness
down around the shelter, where drugs rule.
Can't take that kind of risk now,
with allergies to their recreational chemicals
forcing me to stay away.
Makes it tougher, for sure.
But I have steel in me,
hidden under the layers of veneer civilization pasted
onto me when society accepted my presence
before turning me out as failure,
even as I held true.
The deer wandered away slowly
and I finished my smoke, chilled.
The winds of winter are rising up
stirring the worries, the cold, my soul.
But within me lingers summer's heat
in my soul and heart.
Waiting to finish this job
I step inside, write this up
and hurry back outside, afraid of missing
some little event or color show here
that will have to carry me
until the spring thaws return.
1December2013 - Dyfedd Rex
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Looking at the building storm - A poem of today's Weather
Rippled dark stratus clouds
cast the Wasatch into shadows
that leave those rugged peaks
looking ominous this morning.
Grey haze in the valley air,
dust kicked up on warm winds
as the seasonal shift begins
and the pattern speeds up.
First cold storm of the Season,
those dark peaks will change
as a mantle of white falls
across those shoulders this week.
Camp is abandoned, for now,
as I seek a bit easier place
to move in and out of daily
heeding my gut feelings today.
Looking out, the trees sit
still compared to waves yesterday,
a sea of deep greens for now,
though hints of Autumn peak out.
Looking up at the foothills,
and the center of the range,
still no great color cascades
amid the trees up there.
Doesn't matter a bit, though.
I know the aching bones speak
to others as well as me
of Winter's cold hand reaching out.
The mountains remain dark today
and my thoughts turn that way
feelings of despair peak through
only to get crushed heavily
... by laughs over two "tag-you're-it" squirells.
25September2013 - Dyfedd Rex, Looking at the building storm
cast the Wasatch into shadows
that leave those rugged peaks
looking ominous this morning.
Grey haze in the valley air,
dust kicked up on warm winds
as the seasonal shift begins
and the pattern speeds up.
First cold storm of the Season,
those dark peaks will change
as a mantle of white falls
across those shoulders this week.
Camp is abandoned, for now,
as I seek a bit easier place
to move in and out of daily
heeding my gut feelings today.
Looking out, the trees sit
still compared to waves yesterday,
a sea of deep greens for now,
though hints of Autumn peak out.
Looking up at the foothills,
and the center of the range,
still no great color cascades
amid the trees up there.
Doesn't matter a bit, though.
I know the aching bones speak
to others as well as me
of Winter's cold hand reaching out.
The mountains remain dark today
and my thoughts turn that way
feelings of despair peak through
only to get crushed heavily
... by laughs over two "tag-you're-it" squirells.
25September2013 - Dyfedd Rex, Looking at the building storm
Saturday, June 22, 2013
A Quiet Place Amid Streets - a poem of street musings.
So I found a shady spot,
where the crowds were not gathered
a simple place, for a bit,
to think oer what I am.
You see, the guy in the hat
feels as battered as his lid.
Torn, Frayed, edges all exposed,
wearing away under load.
Ain't no cape on my bent back,
no fancy armor outfit,
just clothes and heavy pack
to protect this fellow now.
My superpowers walked off
Patience shattered by insults
and strength sapped by rejections
spilling out my email box.
Yes, I pick up my load slow,
speed stolen by winter's chill,
Summer failing to grant me
that old determination
You can only get back up
so many times, you see.
Before it turns to despair
ripping out your broken soul.
Before you all write me off,
know I refuse to just quit.
Though it may look like I have
tossed in my own towel.
Still got a few fights in me,
a little of my old fire
just holding it back, waiting
for the right moment or place.
Relative quiet, right now
is my way of riding out
the storms Life tosses my way
seeking some small simple sign.
The time is almost here now
for me to walk off slowly
into distances unseen,
Looking for my own Truth to tell.
I've said y piece into ears,
gave advice left unheeded,
answered enough questions now
and lifted up other's loads.
A night under the stars
perhaps that is called for now.
To think over all this crap
thyat fell on me past few years.
21June2013 - Dyfedd Rex
where the crowds were not gathered
a simple place, for a bit,
to think oer what I am.
You see, the guy in the hat
feels as battered as his lid.
Torn, Frayed, edges all exposed,
wearing away under load.
Ain't no cape on my bent back,
no fancy armor outfit,
just clothes and heavy pack
to protect this fellow now.
My superpowers walked off
Patience shattered by insults
and strength sapped by rejections
spilling out my email box.
Yes, I pick up my load slow,
speed stolen by winter's chill,
Summer failing to grant me
that old determination
You can only get back up
so many times, you see.
Before it turns to despair
ripping out your broken soul.
Before you all write me off,
know I refuse to just quit.
Though it may look like I have
tossed in my own towel.
Still got a few fights in me,
a little of my old fire
just holding it back, waiting
for the right moment or place.
Relative quiet, right now
is my way of riding out
the storms Life tosses my way
seeking some small simple sign.
The time is almost here now
for me to walk off slowly
into distances unseen,
Looking for my own Truth to tell.
I've said y piece into ears,
gave advice left unheeded,
answered enough questions now
and lifted up other's loads.
A night under the stars
perhaps that is called for now.
To think over all this crap
thyat fell on me past few years.
21June2013 - Dyfedd Rex
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Bird of Sunset in Nature's Temple - a poem of Nature and Civilization's Meeting
Amid the bustle of the city
things fall to the waysides fast
and we forget where we originated
until we touch the urban interface
where the wild still comes out.
Even if it's just the backyard
where an open handful of seeds
can bring down bits of sky
as the bird of sunset's flame
settles down on soft fingers
to feast upon offerings to Nature
amid her temple we never see
unless we awake, opening our eyes.
8December2012 - Dyfedd Rex
A person on twitter shared a picture of feeding a cardinal from someone's hand... and this came from it and their caption. I hope to get permission to link to the picture... but imagine it if you have to.
Edited 9 Dec for adding this link to the photo! thanks for letting me Liza! Enjoy her art too!
https://twitter.com/LizasArt/status/277488128162418688/photo/1
She Remembers... - A poem of Nature's Seasonal Gift to me.
She remembered me despite a year
walked towards me for a moment
then scattered back to her herd
scared off by the slowing bicyclist.
Backing into the brush for then
she wandered off amid the scrub oak
turning her head back on occasion,
until her buck imposed himself between us.
Few weeks later, after bad night
I went camping instead to the shelter
wandered back to my low camp
to spend a night away from crap.
In the early hours before dawn
I felt something walk in with hesitance
then a nose touched my neck
sniffing before giving a sudden surprising lick.
Looking through squinted eyes I noted,
she was there, as all around me
her herd settled into separate bowers,
and she took the one containing me.
I rose slowly, each move careful,
rolling up my gear, making my packs
trying not to spook this doe,
who watched me leave, taking my place.
This is nature's gift this season
the doe who remembered me from before
and knew I would leave warm
the spot she sleeps at by day.
8December2012 - Dyfedd Rex
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Wilderness Withdrawal... a poem of Nature
It sneaks up on us
after our return
the withdrawal pains
as what we just saw
finally sinks in
and our hearts shatter
at leaving that place
the Wilderness deep
where thinking was all
we could do at night
amid Nature's glory.
So it always is
we know not the loss
until the moment
we face that construct...
....civilizaion.
15November2012, missing the Wilderness himself a bit
-Dyfedd Rex
Monday, October 22, 2012
The Rewards of Subtle Sunsets and Patience - A poem of photography and nature
A dull grey evening
not a hint of color
as I chased one last sunset
and looked at slate skies
worried nothing would show.
Hints of pink lay
far off to the north
barely showing to my lens
beyond detail range of zoom
which was digitally supplied
Across the railyard's remains
past that band dropping rain
in scattered showers I could see
that a trip south tonight
might have held rewards.
Too late to change
stuck with the venue here
I waited patiently just to see
if that slim break westward
over the islands grew.
So I goofed around
playing with limited F stops
seeing what I could salvage yet
of the night's simple beauty,
staying away from trouble.
Looking southeast, over downtown
Olympus and Twin Peaks stayed clear
save the bands of precipitation flirting briefly
to lay thin snowy hints
of the week ahead.
Play of windowed light
finding a chasm amid billows
whose dark bottoms gave me contrasts
to show Nature's gorgeous shadows
on mountains and foreground.
Many frames sunk in
permeating memories, silicon and carbon
when northward glance caught the light
as far-off curtains burned
over another city there.
Bit north of west
the gap kindled at last
outlining Stansbury Island with rich pinks
and making me think softly
'tis my money shot.
A few more clicks
about to give up finally
and seek a bunk and food
when out of the corner
my eye noted rays.
Two steps forward hesitating
not sure what I could catch
and God's paint brush moved swift
laying out the beams subtly
amid the grey world
So short a display
barely time to record it
as the rays descended westward swiftly
leaving only skyfire broken harshly
by smokestacks and lightpoles.
Thank you, World.
For this
Bliss.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
The Preying Mistress of the Court Jester
hiding on that smoking sign
seeking to steal him away
knowing he loved nature so
that even his wife's jealousy
would never block her way
into our hearts with laughter
as our Jester joked around
talking and flirting so outrageously
with his newly made friend
as she stole another's coffee
and made us all smile.
(8Sep2012 - Dyfedd Rex)
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