Thursday, November 18, 2010

The Volcanoes of Haleakala

[The volcanoes of Haleakala, in Hawaii, photo taken by my second cousin,
Lindsay Knitter, who stood on a cliff high above them,
her head in the clouds of heaven, her feet on the earth.]

posted for the Poets United Thursday Think Tank prompt: wings

Beam me up, Scotty,
from the drop-sheets
and the painting,
the hammering ,
the barking, displaced
and disgruntled dogs.
Let's glide up and over
the mountains
to the
sea all
wreathed in
fog,
all earth's
beauty
waiting
for us
down below,
the waves
beneath us
rolling in,
endless
and slow,
its shoreline
holding
all the beauty
that I know.

Then down
to Oregon's
dramatic
rock-strewn
beach,
catch the
currents,
windsurfing the sky,
midst beauty
rare
we'll  soar,
until we reach
the volcanoes
of Haleakala,
find us a firm place
to land,
perch on the edge
of this legendary place,
its ancient mysteries
try to
understand.

Then lift us up
and away,
across the Andes,
swooping down
their slopes
to buzz the treetops
of the Amazon,
hear the parrots
making all their
squawking cries,
part the
palm fronds,
let in
some light
from those
uncertain
ever-changing
jungle skies.

Then let's
cross the sea
to Africa,
beloved country,
soar across
the bare brown plains
of the Serengeti,
pause to watch
the wildebeeste,
huge elephants
lumbering
through the sand,
as  tawny lions
make their way
across
the living land.

Let's coast the sky
above more
swirling seas,
whitecaps below,
let's catch
the ocean breeze
to Asia,
with its temples,
its Mystic Mountains                 
round and still,
mandarins
tending rice paddies
along the
terraced hills.

And then away
to cross
the Russian steppes,
frozen archipelago
reflect its
icy glow,
for it is time
to make
our wayward
journey home.
I see it
waiting there
for me
below.

When we arrive,
just beam me down,
revived,
where I'll slip on
my metaphorical
monk robes,
like the tired monk
has said,
enter
my newly spotless,
freshly painted
little home,
my dogs once more
at ease
on their dog beds,
I with my book,
a grateful Om
that clearly
must be said,
then Silence,
lovely silence,
all around.
Home,
where
safety,
peace
and quietude
abound.

14 comments:

  1. Sherry,
    I love your writing. Thanks for the fantastic journey.
    Pamela

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  2. Lovely, Sherry. What a trip!

    You had me with the Star Trek intro. :-)

    I love Sci-Fi.

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  3. Who needs Scotty to beam us up when we have your beautiful poetry Sherry...you take us there with your lovely words! :-)

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  4. Reminds me of Whitman's Song of the Open Road. Take that as high praise.

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  5. Wow, high praise indeed. I am so glad you enjoyed it. I felt it fell far short. But, even so, I do feel as if I had a voyage, a little escape, and the metaphorical monk robes actually work quite well. I shall don them more often:)

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  6. Beautifully expressed journey poem, Sherry.

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  7. p.s. I cant believe I didnt stop in Dharamsala and Tibet. But they would be enough for a single voyage - one would need to stay a while:)

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  8. A great captain's travelog (with the Star Trek opening!) and a meditative ending. Loved it!

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  9. Sherry,
    I would love to go on that fantastic journey.
    I felt as though I was swooping overhead while reading those words!

    Have a lovely weekend,
    Eileen :)

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  10. Oh, beautiful! - I love this flying world tour you've taken us on, such gorgeous imagery throughout. I really did feel I was soaring on high. And it's always nice to get home again after...

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  11. This is like a lullaby, so peaceful and serene. You have taken me for a ride or for a glide I may say.

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  12. I loved the images of the places you flew and found the short line lengths easy to read despite it being a long journey! I wonder how many of those places you have actually been or if you just have a great imagination. Thanks for visiting my blog too.

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I so appreciate you taking the time to read and comment.
Thank you so much. I will be over to see you soon!