POETS SALON
– 6/26/19
Hosted by Kath Abela Wilson
When we fell in love, I came to live at the foot of the San Gabriel Mountains, I inherited my husband’s name, his Caltech world, and we began to “clamb tgether” with good cheer. One of the mountain peaks is famous for its telescope and an “array” that is important for stellar research. Everyone we meet seems to think we “own” a peak, an observatory, and a street near our home.
Mount Wilson
everyone has a mountain
that bears their name~ Kath Abela
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Gerry Jacobson
The Mountain
The photos are raw and wintry. ‘Awesome’ is a hackneyed word but this is the Himalaya in its full power: Nanda Devi, 7600 m. The name means “Bliss of the Goddess’. There’s an Australian woman lying dead out there, caught in an avalanche with seven other climbers. There are reports of a recovery team – Indian climbers – trekking in to try and recover the bodies, and give the families closure. Supposedly this week or next week. I’m not sure that it will happen. The monsoon is coming, and the slope that has avalanched is still risky.
astride the summit ridge
staring out into greyness
mist creeps
up the rock face towards me
Gerry in the clouds again
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Frank Tassone
Mountain Meditation
Sit. Gaze upon me. Learn. I bear the storms that weather me blunt. I endure the searing sun that scours my surface clean. I stand. Strength in stillness: this you learn from me. Stop your petulant, random motion, so like a storm-tossed sea. Stand in your stillness. Feel your root. Then you’ll not sway at every tempest. Then you, too, will endure.
mountain trail
heavy breathing, heading up
to the apex
the sore thighs on the descent
accompanying such peace
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Roy Kindelberger
The Mountain
The mountain pass. Snowed in during the winter. Closed. During the summer, the windy road leads to a majestic blue lake. Snow still surrounds. Even though many travel. It feels like mine. Peace within.
serenity
something about the mountains
snow covered peaks
across the bridge toward
an unknown destination
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Sharon Hawley
Quartzsite, Arizona, twinkled behind me as I climbed away from it, up a small mountain, heading for California. The town appeared no larger than a distant galaxy in the vastness of desert space. Even farther from my tiny reality, starlight glowed from behind hills that are behind Quartzsite. I remembered climbing them and then coasting into the town yesterday, but now those hills appear impossibly distant.
It seemed too soon, like I haven’t suffered enough, but suddenly in a broad valley—the Colorado River appeared, and beyond it, California. I felt close to home, but did not allow that feeling to cause a rush for the finish.
what lies between
me and home
a great desert
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A Mountain With Your Name: Quotes and Credits
Gerry Jacobson is a lifelong lover of mountains. Once a climber, then a long-distance walker. His GP now restricts him to 2200 m, which just happens to be the height of Australia’s highest mountain. He’s a poet and a dancer living in Canberra, Australia. Gerry gives a weekly tanka prose prompt and is co-administrator of Tanka Poets on Site on Facebook (at the invitation of Kath Abela).
Frank Tassone lives in New York City’s “back yard” with his wife and son. He communes with Mount Mansfield in Vermont’s Green Mountains, and with New York’s Adirondacks, as often as possible. He fell in love with writing after he wrote his first short story at age 12 and his first poem in high school. He began writing haiku and haibun seriously in the 2000s. His free verse and short form poetry has appeared in many international journals and anthologies. He has worked as a special education teacher in New York City High Schools for the past twenty years. He is a contributing poet for the online literary journal Image Curve, and a performance poet with Rockland Poets. When he’s not working or writing, he enjoys time with his family, SciFi/Fantasy films, meditation, hiking, and practicing tai chi.
Roy Kindelberger loves Route 20, the North Cascades Highway, located in Washington State. The pass is closed most of the year. On top of Washington pass is Ross Lake and Diablo Dam. The blue lake feels magical. Spiritual. Something out of a Fairy Tale. Roy is a teacher and writer. He has two daughters and lives in Edmonds, WA, with his fiance Jaci.
Sharon Hawley lives in Pasadena and her adventurous and poetic travels are legend among her poetry circles. She says: “She goes because she can’t stay about sums it up.” You can follow her cross country solo bike ride through the southern states on her bike, pedaling West II, 2014, from Atlantic to Pacific at and many other past and recent adventures are archived there.
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♣ We welcome and encourage your response, especially in the form of a short poem, by leaving a comment below.
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When I lived in LA years ago, I flew to CO every school break to ski in the beautiful Rockies: Aspen, Vail, Breckenridge, Crested Butte….skiing those quiet, majestic terrains brought me joy, a sense of freedom, and peace.
sudden spill
I fall into deep powder
soft as clouds
Published in The haiku Foundation, winter, 2018