About Me

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Sometimes, I just need to go for a bicycle ride, on my Schwinn Cruiser, around the Loop Road, Rainclouds or Sunshine. And sometimes, when Lifes circumstances prevents me, I do it anyway, with Windy thoughts peddling circles in my mind. I am D.M. Beebe . . . Born July 07, 1967 in Seattle, Wa. Sprouted one hour away, due North East, in the fertile Tualco Valley. I didnt really ever go too far away from the Valley, as I didn’t need to. As Life in Tualco Valley, seems to have always intrigued me. As I pay attention to the Valley, I do notice the slight changes every day. Throughout the 4 Seasons, within the Valleys full Spectrum, Rainbow array. When I watch, and when I pay attention, I develop many reasons. To have many thoughts about Life, throughout my Lifes Seasons. So I think about Life, and about Nature, and Plants and Animals, and Humans. And how it unfolds, within my mind, and my thoughts, and my insights. And so I write Story Poems of my Lifes experiences, and of my observations. And so I go forth, to reveal my conclusions, of my slightly insane perceptions. Thank You for reading my Poems . . . D.M. Beebe

Thursday, September 18, 2014

La Push -

Many of my generations have ridden the whitecapped currents water ferry, across the puget sound,
Passengers on a rumbling vessel to the ends of washington's earth, my family is onboard and abound.
Anxiously we drive over hoods canal bridge, and cautiously around the deep blue lake crescent,
Thats when the family memories and stories start to bubble and surface, and it starts to get remenicent.


We talk and imagine, and feel and smell the salt air, before we can actually see,
La Push, our family vacation destination, upon the great green pacific sea.
James island, there it is through the fog, past the breakers, upon its own beach,
We finally have arrived, we are here now at longlast, within the La Push reach.


We check in, but wait to unload as we hurry with our dogs, to take a walk on first beach,
Memories to be made on the Quileutes, it is ours again, the next generations to teach.
Quiant little gable vaulted lofted cabins, back behind the drift wood log pile,
In the timberline back where we rest protected, in the trees for the nightswhile.


We hike the next day on trails through the mossy rain forest, and explore beaches two and three,
If its your desire, you can camp in your tent if you wish, down by the surf, and have a overnight safari.
Starfish, anenomies, jellyfish, hermit crabs, ride on the wind, do the squawking seagulls,
Seastacks, waves crash upon the shore, like it breathes in and out, as the endless surf lulls.


Surfside dreams end as you wake in the morn, only to witness another seaside glorious day,
Sunshine seafoam splashing surf, a new day is born, what a view making life all of a magnificent display.
6 generations of my family now have visited upon these shores, all were inspired and made memories adorned,
Many barefoot tracks in the beach sand, upon the ends of the earth, where the water meets the land atorn.


We all walk and ponder on the beaches of the world, exploring surf and self, collecting and gathering natures gifts,
The earth and its trees, with its waters and cool breeze, washes away our busy life, as the sands of time constantly shifts.
People and animals, and plants and earth, the recycling environment, that we are all born into, exist and live in,
With us and the next generations, everyday the waves will crash upon the shore, life will always end, life will always begin.


D. Matthew Beebe





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