If I were invincible
I'd visit a terrorist camp
I would bring music
Happy music
Feel good music
Music that makes your cells
Bounce
And while the music played
I would dance
Right there
In the middle of the training base
The true militants would be angry
Very angry
They would try to riddle my body with lead
But since I am invincible
No lead can harm me
And I dance
And I smile
And with my eyes
And with my hands
And with my body
I invite others
Won't you come dance, too?
Some militants
Who aren't really militants
But rather doubters
Slowly join in
And they dance
And they smile
And the true militants get angry
Very angry
And they try to riddle the doubters' bodies with lead
But since the doubters are dancing
They too are invincible
No lead can harm them
If I were invincible
That is what I would do
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Thursday, July 16, 2015
Three Miles South of The Saddle
O Wind of the hills!
ambling through naked trees
take my cares
let them ride Your waves
dispense them into tiny worlds
so they know their smallness
in the vast expanse
transform them
narrow to wide
let them feel the rain
to become ice crystals
on display
creating every color of the bow
hope for eyes to see
O Wind!
power that transcends
the essence of our matters
january 23, 2oo9
~carolwelch
***
It was a winter's day.
Cold. Windy. Ice crystals in the air.
As I stood beside my vehicle parked on the side of the Blue Ridge Parkway, three miles south of The Saddle.
I had to stop there because the Parkway was closed at that point. Ice and snow were on the road north.
The wind is forever blowing across Saddle's ridge.
Other poems composed while upon The Saddle...
ambling through naked trees
take my cares
let them ride Your waves
dispense them into tiny worlds
so they know their smallness
in the vast expanse
transform them
narrow to wide
let them feel the rain
to become ice crystals
on display
creating every color of the bow
hope for eyes to see
O Wind!
power that transcends
the essence of our matters
january 23, 2oo9
~carolwelch
***
It was a winter's day.
Cold. Windy. Ice crystals in the air.
As I stood beside my vehicle parked on the side of the Blue Ridge Parkway, three miles south of The Saddle.
I had to stop there because the Parkway was closed at that point. Ice and snow were on the road north.
The wind is forever blowing across Saddle's ridge.
Other poems composed while upon The Saddle...
Thursday, June 11, 2015
I spy...
Rabbits
Cardinals
Blue birds
Cardinals
Blue birds
Indigo buntings
Adolescent blackberries
Still red
Bees buzz
Creek gurgles
Creek gurgles
Horses trot
Paint in the lead
Human hollers 'cross the pasture
Hand rings the dinner bell
Singing out loud
I sway back and forth
Sailing on two tires
Guided by handlebars
I sway back and forth
Sailing on two tires
Guided by handlebars
Breeze glides by
Invisible air-wakes
No cars allowed on
The Greenway
Lush green thrives
I drink in the scenery
Lush green thrives
On either side of blacktop
Nature sings back
'Round the bend I spy
A new addition along the path
The Little Free Library
Wooden bench by the creek
I smile
I spread each palm
And pull the brake levers
Flush with the handle grips
Dismount
I spread each palm
And pull the brake levers
Flush with the handle grips
Dismount
Tap, tap snapshots
Sit on the bench
Smile again
Life ain't too bad in the city
Little Free Library along Muddy Creek |
Parade of turkeys |
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