Author Archives: wfosterwelborn
Wapiti
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
I’ve climbed snow-capped mountains,
Searched lush valleys below.
I’ve trekked through high aspen meadows,
Drinking where hidden streams flow.
I’ve climbed over lofty crags
And walked through wildflower meadows where you roam.
I’ve smelled spruce-laden air
In the untamed beauty you trod and know as home.
I’ve searched when hot and thirsty,
Muscles crying out in pain.
I’ve hunted while wet and hungry
Against your allies, snow and rain.
When matching wits, my hunter’s tricks
Have all seemed to fail,
Yet your courage and strength never falter
As nature helps you prevail.
Each year, aspen trees
Begin wearing coats of red and gold,
When campfires flicker in the mountains
Against night air, crispy cold.
My ears strain to catch a bugle call,
Which splits the clean, clear air.
The mighty stag, Wapiti,
Is moving in his lair.
Yes, I’ll answer his ringing challenge,
For not to respond would cause me pain.
It’s time to once more play hide-and-seek
On his terms, in his terrain.
Life
These thoughts come from Autumn Leaves:
The marvel of life…
Like the unfolding petals of the rose,
Awakening to greet the first warm rays of the morning sun.
The marvel of life…
Like a microscopic speck mingled in the cosmic dust of the universe,
Dawdling and dancing to the muted dreams of eternity.
The marvel of life…
Toiling unceasingly with the aspirations of its gender,
Gathering the wisdom of the ages, dreaming the dreams of by-gone eras.
The marvel of life…
Growing hot, waxing brighter in the pursuit of achievement,
Yet, when suppressed and thwarted constantly by unknown forces,
Flickers and finally dies.
Outdoorsman
This thought comes from Autumn Leaves:
Open country, clear streams,
Fresh air, wild life and green trees,
Rugged beauty,
Fresh sights and smells
Enter the body in two’s and three’s.
Clarion mating call of the bull elk in rut.
Outdoorsman life style —
That’s the one for me!
Let Me See, Too!
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Heart renderings poured into word-weaver’s mold
Is the poet’s bent,
Striving to paint a picture
And give the words some tint.
Overwork not the adjectives.
Adverbs wisely use.
Inverted sentences,
Please do not abuse.
Literary critics, established,
Sometimes blind,
Cut and rend, omit and blend —
How dare we waste their time!
Describe then an ocean blue,
Green of stately tree,
A bird in flight, dark of night,
So that I, too, might see.
Then change colors on the brush,
Paint with unwavering pen,
Color falling rain, misery or pain,
Then paint the wind.
Squeeze those words, twist them tight.
Turn them inside out.
Make the painting clear as light.
Make the message shout!
Make the picture come alive.
Strip away the veil.
Let my fingers see it, too,
As they trace the upraised Braille.
Leviathan
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Hear then a tale of questionable strategy
Involving a wondrous creature.
Results were almost near tragedy,
Species extinction, Nature’s own sad teacher.
Their existence brings about mixed feelings
As they quietly pass on parade,
Slowly plying changing ocean currents,
Passing near man unafraid.
Gentle and playful, they offer no cause
For unfounded fear or alarm,
Never inflicting pain in their watery domain
While displaying whale-loads of charm.
The solution was always very simple,
Very easy to understand.
You see, while we’re able to travel our oceans,
They’re unable to travel on land.
Then let’s leave these great gentle wonders
In care of Neptune’s safe keep
To breed and play, live and die, peacefully,
Inside blue marvel of their deep.
Levels
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Speak diligently, strive hard
Seeking to find
Higher truths, awareness levels…
Always use your mind.
First level, fresh mind,
Everything new, white as chalk.
Learned to speak, began to think,
Slowly learned to walk.
Second Level, awkward years,
Body strong, learning right from wrong.
Having fun, wild free years,
Lackadaisical attitude, trying to belong.
Third Level, maturity, responsibilities,
Striving to fulfill our dreams,
Different places, varied faces,
Drowning in waterless streams.
Fourth Level, yearning yet stable,
Successful, empty, desire burning.
Appreciation of art, beauty, humanity,
Thoughts always churning.
Fifth Level, consciousness abides.
A foreboding feeling,
Something surely missing,
Emptiness, realization stealing.
Sixth Level, words like stone,
Deep impressions stand alone.
A deep, soft voice says, “Welcome,”
Chill inside my bones.
Seventh Level, deep voice, all-wise,
Henceforth and upwards is paradise,
Length, depth and breadth,
Measured with cubic rod.
Speak with praise forevermore,
Wrapped in Love,
Praise His Holy name for
You now speak with GOD!
Awakening
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Tightly closed against morning chill,
Holding essence tight like in-drawn breath,
Waiting for an unknown time
On an invisible clock to steal.
Who can fathom such silent wonder,
But stand in awe and ponder?
Majestic in crawling, slow motion,
Thrilling beauty to overflowing portion.
Arms now unfold in radiant bliss,
Greeting sunshine with a fragrant kiss.
Translucent petals, gorgeous disclose,
Sun’s warm rays now caress the rose.
Pain
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
It hurts! It hurts!
I know it’s pain.
I know! I know!
I’ve been told by my brain.
Through jangled nerves,
The message comes loud and clear.
Eyes will see the flowing red
Which will bring me fear.
Stop the red quickly,
Before life runs its course.
Stop the red! Stop the red!
Stop it at its source.
I’ll send a message back.
I’ll send it up the line
To tell the ole brain quickly,
“Everything is fine.”
See how I cope
With you now, “Ole Pain,”
I’m completely safe
And ouch-less, sane.
I stop the red and shun you,
Completely unafraid.
I’ve discovered a medical miracle —
The ouch-less Band-Aid.
wfosterwelborn 