Friday, July 24, 2015

more writing from the Beech Hill Journal, July 21-24

more poetry from the ongoing journal at the top of Beech Hill

"but how can I not write...when there is a notebook
full of people's thoughts and feelings and
beckoning me to add my own?"


someplace far from home
amidst the endless forest
sun-touched wildflowers
happily-singing cedar waxwings
we found a trail
the one we were looking for

It wasn't too hard to find
but it took some time
the hike up the trail wasn't
too hard to climb
but it took some effort
I wasn't forced to do it
but I had to be willing
to find this special place.

As I crested the hill
the top of the mountain
the only thing on my mind
was a single word
the wildflowers lit by sunlight
the birds warbling their joy
the sea stretching all around
a gentle summer breeze

and all the sudden the world falls away
all thoughts of everything else
that weighed me down before
all gone on the breeze
I only feel the peace,
the rest, the contentment,
and all it took to find this
much-needed peace
was a bit of time
a bit of effort
and a willing heart.
It fills me
completes me
and I call it my very own
a peaceful home away from home.
I just might have to move.

Rachel J - Missouri


wind, stone, flowers, earth
the wind tickles my skin
a small reward for a short climb
the stone provides a strong seat
for my weary bones, shade from
the noon-day sun...
the flowers dazzle my eyes, a
dance of color to keep me awake
The earth gives direction to
my path, leads me to new
views, provides me with meaning


Thou has't thy beauty too
in the bared clouds that bloom
the soft dying day
and touch the stubble fields
with rosey hue -

John Keats


Bumpy lands ahead
greenery here and around
my heart is so full

My first poem

blueberries, ah Blueberries! so delicious
so pure, so quickly eaten.

This is a beautiful spot, with beautiful views
all around. flowers, greenery, fog, water, a soft
breeze, birds tweeting.

the sun, ah the Sun! illuminates everything,
warms everything - sometimes too much -
but not today - as I sit on the stone porch wall
of Beech Nut House on Beech Hill Preserve.

Poetry is not something I usually write
but how can I not write (a poem? prose?)
today, when I am surrounded by beauty
and calm and quiet and there is a notebook
full of people's thoughts and feelings and
beckoning me to add my own?

I hope you always remember this
perfect place. Any time life gets hard
close your eyes, deep breaths, and
visualize being here.
This is a perfect place.

climbing to the top
I really had to pee
it really was the prettiest porta potty
I ever did see


The grass so wonderful and tall
the blueberries so perfect and small
a place of wonder to us all

such a lovely view
and so many pretty fields
but then I look in a direction
I think

Oh How amazing and perfect a place can be
the place where the grass is so tall
the berries so small
a place of wonder to us all


Like life, the beginning
of this road is narrow
and rough, as it progresses it
gets wider and smoother,
surrounded by beautiful
vistas, flowers and the
abundance of sustenance.
this place is something
I will keep in my mind
forever to feel the
Peace of God all around
and in me.


burnt orange lilies
spark against
grass green ice tips
melt against
fat blue teardrops
squeeze against
bitingly white sails
jostle against
the vastness of one tiny ocean


Raspberries are red
blueberries are blue
Missouri's too hot
May I stay here with you?

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