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

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

People have Pollen and Flowers have Friends -

We exist within nature, learning and growing every day,
Our lifes pollen is love and caring, sharing every way,
With intertwined roots, and flowering fruits on the vine,
My pollen becomes yours, your pollen becomes mine.  

People have Pollen and Flowers have Friends,
We live on forever, we live on again.
Our pollen flies, on lifes swirling wind and stormclouds,
And falls down upon us all, with lightning and thunder loud,
As we pollinate each other, over and over again, in the rain,
Life sprouts and starts, life wilts and ends, evolving not in vain. 

People have Pollen and Flowers have Friends,
We live on forever, we live on again.  

When lifes season is gone, the memories of us, lives forever on,
Because we become one another, our pollen of love, has not gone,
Theres a sacred garden, where we all exist, and grow in the end,
The garden where we will be, is here in time, forever to again spend.

People have Pollen and Flowers have Friends,
We live on forever, we live on again.
D.M. Beebe

Monday, April 27, 2015

Old Big Blue -

Old Big Blue, we surely will miss you,
Many jobs and chores, we got r done with you,
Always tried and true, you always came through,
44 seasons we did work, many acres with you.

Big and bold, you were old, not shiny and new,
You brushcut and rototilled, always right through,
Old school, Old Big Blue, you were certainly badass,
You always turned the soil, you always cut the grass.

Fill your fluids up, and it just would leak through,
But slow enough, to get the job done, Old Big Blue,
Spread and backblade gravel, yup, you could do that too,
Or move chips, or manure, we could always count on you.

Clear the woods, you would just push right through,
It seemed there was nothing, that you could not do,
84 Horses in a 4x4 Ford Tractor, Thank You, Old Big Blue,
You were something else, we will always remember you.

D.M. Beebe

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

50 Feet Above Sea Level in Tualco Valley -

As I stare with my dog friend Otter, into the campfire sparks, flamingly ablaze,
Our thoughts swirl and float up, grey and thick, mixing with the smoky, swirling, haze,
With Otter, a overcast spring rain is coming down upon us, and our friends, the spring frogs,
Together we listen and think, as it wrings and rinses out, our saturated, mossy minds fogs.

One might think, that this is not right, or even seasonally, strangely spent time in the rain,
But to me and Otter, its much needed time outdoors, spent soggy, with much for us to gain,
As we dont like other recreational activities, or crowds and sports, or loud fast race cars,
But we like to campfire in Tualco Valley, and watch above on clear nights, the moon and the stars.

We are not strange, but in fact, we are both witfull, and thoughtfully, rather kinda normal,
Even though, we always look like farmers and dogs, in the flatland, wearing our fur and flannel,
As this is our life we have made, and this is the life we are from, and appreciate, and do like,
Ever since being both born into Tualco Valley, and into the foothills trees, if we uphill take a hike.

We do know and understand our placement in life, situated precisely where we greatfully are,
Which is 50 feet above sea level, in Tualco Valleys fertile farmland, marked with many tractors scar,
We can go up if we like into the foothills, or down deeper into the boggy, saturated, flatland,
But to have the valley to oneself anymore, is hard to find, but theres always plenty of sand.

So we just watch it all blow over somedays, in the skies above, as we stay put and enjoy,
As we watch the world run its course everday, with no one else, but us to certainly annoy,
Sometimes the worlds comes to visit us, and says sometimes, lets be neighbors, or friends,
As it is welcoming here, come visit us sometime, as Tualco Valleys friendship has no ends.

D. M. Beebe

Sunday, April 12, 2015

Bigfoot -

When I walk in the woods in the day, and I tent and campfire through the long, dark night,
I have heard the trees knocking, and the screams of strange origins, making me fright,
I have heard the stories, from the indigineous, and the new invaders, exploring the land,
I can understand only one thing, and that is, that are minds, can explanation demand.

We are smart enough, without evidence, to consciously make up an explanation,
For what we cant see, but myth and experience, and senses, do spill into certain revelation,
Of a hairy monkey mankind, that does hide in the rainy forests, of the moss, and of the trees,
And that for thousands of years, has eluded detection, but for what your mind makes believes.

When you go out alone, into the woods of rain, into the terrestrial woodland darkness,
Your mind feels scared, your body vulnerable, phsycologically, you need a harness,
Something to make you feel safe, protected, because against nature, you are never strong,
Because mankind as always, in the wilderness alone, needs Bigfoot, to survive and get along.

We cannot accept, that we never will be, the strongest of the woodland hairy wild beasts,
And that many other species out there, could have us at will, as their hot blooded tasty feast,
And so we make up, the myth of the manlike creature, we name Yeti, Sasquatch, or Bigfoot,
To be on top of the food chain, to feel kinship safety at night, with stories that deeply take root.

D.M. Beebe

Sunday, April 5, 2015

Tomorrow -

There is always tomorrow,
Tomorrow is always another day,
Tomorrow is to dream about, such as happiness or sorrow,

Tomorrow is faith and hope, the future history of Yesterday.
We will all not rise again someday, on the third day,
While the palms wave and line the streets on display, we will all be there anyway,
Because you do not have to take sides, to believe and to have hope,
Because a kind gods religion, has not leverage, to pursuade threat of hell or death, within its scope.
We will all look upon and ponder our future, we will all survey lineage, anotherday,
We will all think of our offsprings future, within our mother planets magical big array,
As we all our spirits of our childrens future, memories of their past,
Like ancestors before me, in the air and in my mind, memories and instincts, that do seem to somehow last.
I hope you respect my opinion, I hope you understand,
That the unknown great energy force of our galaxy, to me, is never to be known, or to be in a book within your hand,
But we should have faith and hope anyway, even with the unknowing,
And any of gods kind religions would not condemn, judging upon your lifes deeds and showing.
And they would I hope, not leverage the threat of hell or death, if you did not commit bad deeds, as well,
 And that a kind god of mankind, has such a big forgiving heart, to enclose the earth, if it did swell,
So forgive me as I do follow the path, of uncommon thinking of the mystical prince of peace and the father giver,
As I think the higher energy source power that makes us evolve does, accept me and you, as worthy, as the eternal forgiver.
D.M. Beebe