tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65879284734886504882024-03-01T17:05:21.440-08:00matt beebe poemsmattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-25918292410213796922016-12-12T18:01:00.040-08:002024-03-01T14:00:09.367-08:00Poetic Stories by D.M. Beebe<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">03-01-2024 = 43,120 page views. </span></span><br />
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">Read my Poems here for free.</span></span><br />
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">There are about 50 Poems total.</span></span><br />
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">Click on the Poetic Stories by D.M. Beebe links below for the Amazon or Barnes and Noble online bookstores to purchase my book. </span></span><br />
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">Thanks for reading my Poems. </span></span><br />
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">D.M. Beebe - <a href="mailto:the4beebes@frontier.com">the4beebes</a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null">@frontier.com</a> .</span></span><br />
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">ps, I'm looking for a publisher for my next book consisting of these 50 poems + more, any publisher suggestions? email me, Thanks.</span></span><br />
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<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/poetic-stories-dm-beebe/1121900201?ean=9781503568945">http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/poetic-stories-dm-beebe/1121900201?ean=9781503568945</a><br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Poetic-Stories-D-M-Beebe/dp/1503568946/ref=tmm_hrd_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1431456510&sr=1-1">https://www.amazon.com/Poetic-Stories-D-M-Beebe/dp/1503568946/ref=tmm_hrd_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1431456510&sr=1-1</a>mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-66377043119703327332016-11-02T19:12:00.002-07:002016-12-08T12:24:35.379-08:00Gold Rush - <strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What would you do, Im sure like many, if given the option and time, amidst Lifes hard 4 hindering Seasons,<br />Oh to Live Life uninhibited, free and ambitious no matter what, your unruly adventerous, and Exploring reasons, <br />Some will say your tormented, inevitebley, but truly Spiritually satisfying, and somewhat selfishly appeasing,<br />Different ways to look at it, and all of the ways have hard Bones, but also a Soul, thats pain letting and aleaving.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When we all Travel through day and night, under the Sun and the North Star, upon the Land, of the new unknown,<br />Eventually we will soon realize, that we are all Similar, and are not far away, from our old Township local Home,<br />Hardscrabble Villages will tell you, the Coyotes howl at night, means the Packs caught dinner, and is eating well,<br />Ramshackle safe and fed for another night, Us like the howling Forest Dwellers, with bellies filled, round as they swell.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Desert is so barron clean, and dusty dry, with sand and rocks, upon the surface of a dried Oceans prior existance,<br />Many have joined its side, to be on their own, by Trekking out, into the dehydrated Landscape, of isolated resistance,<br />Many say Good Luck, all of the Fortunes already been struck, like the Ghostly Townships, times have come and gone, <br />Miners seeking Fortune, with moral hearts and ethical picks, and Sourdough shovels in their hand, never quit and toiled on.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Norths Explorers Adventurous lives neared the end, when their Gold Rush Fortunes, either struck out, or hit the Big Jackpot,<br />Then they slowly drifted down the Cold Yukon, to sell their Dust and Nuggets, weighed up on the Scale, to see what its bought,<br />This is when Many O' Miner, have earned or lost their Mother Lode, at this very end of a hard Season, many too often go broke,<br />The logbook records their Ounces, and also their Souls, and valuable Dreams into History, tribulations of many good worthy Folk.</span></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">D.M. Beebe - <a href="mailto:the4beebes@frontier.com">the4beebes</a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null">@frontier.com</a> - Poetic Stories by D.M. Beebe : Amazon and Barnes and Noble online bookstores.</span></strong></span>mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-41199302253085371542016-10-13T19:59:00.001-07:002016-12-08T12:25:02.003-08:00Shu Shu Ga - <strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When you see see it, you stop and think to yourself, what was that, was that a big blue bird ?<br />Its swoops in the reeds and cat tails, to evade detection, whithout anything, ever having heard,<br />It is so stealth, it is so silence, it is so elagant, so long leggy lengthy, within its silent existance,<br />Not even a green slough frog, can hear it coming, to defend against it, nomatter stealth resistance.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Native American people, a different name, to them, they called the dinosaur bird, Shu Shu Ga,<br />It always walks in the shallows, fishing for minnows, or polywogs, with a long beak, to skewww ya,<br />In the evening, when feathery bird bellies are finally full, and its time to go nest, not low on the loost,<br />They take flight, in the twilight of the night, to the hills estuary evergreen big tree tops, up high to roost.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They stay there all night, in their old growth evergreen estuary, of tall timbers, on the big green hillside,<br />If you look from afar, you will see the tall group of trees left, upon the hills, the rest is a clearcut homicide, <br />The old blue dinasour birds, dont have many places left anymore, in the treetops, for their branchy nests,<br />After hunting in the valley for frogs, during the day in the sloughs, they have to fly home, after their quests.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The coyoyes howl at them also, while hunting in the valley at night, they hear sounds in the trees, birds ?<br />My farm dogs also bark at them all night from the porch, waking me up, off and on, making my dreams blurbs, <br />In the twilight, or in in the dawn, to see the magnificent take to flight, or glide and land, upon the thick, foggy air,<br />You realize that the big blue heron, has a respected purpose in the valley, its a iconic relic, prehistoric, very rare.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">D.M. Beebe - <a href="mailto:the4beebes@frontier.com">the4beebes</a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null">@frontier.com</a> - Poetic Stories by D.M. Beebe : Amazon and Barnes and Noble online bookstores.</span></strong>mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-87838270714511713452016-10-03T20:51:00.006-07:002016-10-03T20:51:48.332-07:00Climate Change - <strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Spring : The Spring rains, storms pour down, cats and dogs, raindrops drips, a wet spatter, a splashing spither,<br />Summer : Flowers of Summer wilt, and so to the season soon will dry up, dust devils swirl, as it all does wither,<br />Fall : Ghostly fog flowing, nightly into the valley, bringing with it, windy colored Fall, doth our way hovering hither,<br />Winter : As Winter slowly sets in for a spell, orange spice tea is on the wood stove, a simmering steaming sither.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Spring floods the valley, with rushing early mountain snow and ice melt, and rain storms saturated water tables,<br />Rising liquid levels of rip-rap levy breaking rivers, catastrophic events, in which made are long told old time fables,<br />Farmers hurrily move machinery and livestock, up to high ground, before the water rises, to the barns high gables,<br />Cows and other critters, moved to safety, rounded up and herded, out of the barns mucky, stanchions and stables.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Summer is hot and dry, 5th year in a row now, leaving strange sunspots on the crops leaves, and my burnt skin,<br />We have nearly run our well dry, trying to irrigate, it just evaporates upon the surface, the soil is to dry to sink in,<br />Carbon monoxide, and sulfur dioxide, up in the atmosphere, hovering the Earth, how to fix it ? how do we begin ?<br />Lucky for all, it helps the depleted ozone layer, deflect solar radiation from upon us, yay ! greenhouse gasses win ?</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fall like all 4 seasons now, are a month or so early, bringing with it spectacular colors of leaves, and orange sunsets,<br />Last chance to swim in the green river, enjoy bbq campfires, kids have no school or college, lifes time with no regrets,<br />But soon the chemically intoxicated sugar filled leaves will fall, with gusty gail force winds, chased by big storms of fret,<br />The atmospheric pressure changes, your ears will pop, fun times are gone now, a new season has now commeth to beget. </span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Winters icy cold crystal frosty frozen wrath has eventually arrived, the season of harsh, wood stove heated, white asunder,<br />Times of frozen pipes, crawling under the house, hairdryers thawing out icy plumbing, myself man-made unprepared blunder,<br />Some are enchantingly sledding or skating, or making snowmen & snowwomen, upon the 3 feet of powdery snow to plunder,<br />A wonderland of fun times to some, and when will this white blizzard end to others, signs of Climate Change to me, I wonder ? </span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">D.M. Beebe</span></strong>mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-60873763816363164482016-10-03T20:49:00.006-07:002016-10-03T20:49:46.049-07:00Cruise The Loop - <strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The trek to town, across Lewis Street Bridge, to stock up on feed store supplies, Safeway, maybe dinner ?<br />The family together, shopping in town, for lifes wares, sometimes Pizza, games, quarter machine winner !<br />And on the way home, we did sometimes Cruise The Loop, to view the farmland scenery, to guess, to talk,<br />The Tualco Loop Road, many good Valley memories, to view and remember, just go drive on it, bike, or walk.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some day you will remember, Cruisen The Loop, as you keep going straight, at the old Grange Red Swiss Hall,<br />Lets roll around the Valley family, Valley watching, to see whats maybe new, even if its nothing old, or new at all,<br />Look at that, and look at this, these are the things, in time to remember, to think back on, just maybe even miss ?<br />Like rumbling across the old Riley Slough Wood Bridge, certainly memories I will not forget, or ever easily dismiss.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Somedays its a good thing, to just go drive, or go walk, or go ride your Schwinn Cruiser, and just go Cruise The Loop,<br />I know you will also find, in time, thinking back about the Valley, as you circle around your own lifes ring, Hoola Hoop.<br />As you think back, memories take you back, once again, in body and mind, so take your own time, to find your own loop.<br />As you remember and try, to keep your eyes dry, old memories, as you make your life anew, upon your own farms stoop.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nothing forgotten to me, my Valley good life history, I have had to ponder, through my life, like at the sky river, Camp Beebe,<br />A good life in the Valley to live in, but more important always is my kin, do you remember eM & Kels, The Big Maple Tree ?<br />It has been a long time now, that we have lived in the Valley and how, nothen is taken lightly, as you too will eventually see,<br />Family, friends, and neighbors, helping each other out and get by, all of us, you, me, we, in our lifes loop, called Tualco Valley.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">D.M. Beebe</span></strong> mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-50850546178320656262016-10-03T20:48:00.000-07:002016-10-03T20:48:02.356-07:00The Barn Swallows -<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The barn swallows, have come to surprise me again, this sunny day, in spring time,<br />Right on time, upon the blue skies, and white puffy clouds, as the sky turns on a dime.<br />The clouds are changing now, to blueish lavender, and pinkish orange, even greenish yellow,<br />As the barn swallows, circle and swoop about, to eradicate the skies, of the pesky mosquito.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I hope they make nests, in my farmland barn eaves, with eggs full of babies, to be hatched,<br />In years past, they have done so, I Iook forward to them every year, I have become attached.<br />They are a signal of transition, a changing of the seasons, from the spring, into the summer,<br />As times change, its natural to think about life, I contemplate my place, my mind gets numb-er.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe the swooping barn swallows, that have come here this year once again, to live, and to explore,<br />Might remember being hatched from shells, in nests in my barns eaves, to thrive, as done times before,<br />I want to hope so, that they feel safe enough here, to continue their many generations, with no fears,<br />To me that is a honor, I want them to continue, so they can populate my barn eaves, for future years.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The barn swallows, are a elegant flying seasonal sign, of a wet spring, changing into a dryer summer,<br />When I see them for the first time of the year, back again to visit, it makes me question, and I do wonder,<br />Where do they go, to the south somewhere to over winter, only to fly north again, into mosquito filled warm air,<br />I think to myself, when I see them again every year, my feathered friends are always welcome, my shelter I share.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">D.M. Beebe</span></strong>mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-34250358065679271372016-10-03T20:46:00.001-07:002016-10-03T20:46:11.876-07:00The Dirt Witch - <strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Clump . . . scrape, clump . . . scrape, clump . . . scrape, clump . . . scrape,<br />The Dirt Witch, makes her way up the stairs, dragging her long, old, black cape,<br />With unkept long and gray, dusty hair, green mildew eyes, and yellow jaggedy teeth,<br />Crooked, barefoot, long boney toe and finger nails, with red stains, deep underneath.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Dirt Witches cackle, makes you sit straight up in your chair, at the lonely dinner table,<br />Cuz you know then its real, and the warnings, are not of, a long old made up, household fable,<br />She is coming for you now, this creature, that lives in the basement, imaginations do create,<br />For the solitary young boy, sitting at the table, that didnt eat it all, and clean up his dinner plate.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fear comes to mind, thinking back, at my limited time I had, to finish and save my own fate,<br />Apparently the Dirt Witch didnt mind, if I let my dog Chance help, as he never did hesistate,<br />And so miraculously, when I scraped off my leftovers, under the table, upon the old, checkered, vinly floor,<br />The Dirt Witch would go back down the basement stairs, and I did not hear her cackle, that night, anymore.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One night around 3am, I tip-toed down those stairs into the dark, thinking of the Dirt Witch with no food,<br />I felt sorry for her, down there in the cold basement, by her solitary self, I do hope shes in a friendly mood ?<br />So with my little plastic bags of cheerios, chocolate chips, and green grapes, I entered into her dark space,<br />I waiting down there for awhile, disappointed, she did not come out, relieved, my mind and fears, I did embrace.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">D.M. Beebe</span></strong>mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-60505055677933042292016-10-03T20:44:00.003-07:002016-10-03T20:59:36.239-07:00White Waterfall - <strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Its never scheduled or planned, life ends suddenly, it always strikes too early, and too soon,<br />A loved ones passing, what will you do ? when the time comes, reluctantantly, some full moon ?<br />We cannot guess or forecast, our ancenstors longevity, in front of us, maybe in July, or June ?<br />We do know one thing, their lives are of most value, the fabric of our souls, living within us, they do tune. </span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When the time comes, it will be hard, it will be the hardest thing ever, that you have ever gone through,<br />The doctor and pastor puts you in the quite room, to tell you the news, that you cant believe, its not true, <br />I dont want to walk down that hallway, to see my mom, laying there, bandaged in the cold room, not alive,<br />Covered in many white towels, like a angel, so sorry I cant help you mom, your gone now, you did not survive.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A week or so later, after memorials and rememberances, and personal recollections, and special whatwithalls,<br />Is a cardboard cylinder full of ashes, after it all doesnt calm down, after we dont regain our wits, or our wherewithalls,<br />But we have to take you mom, where you said you wanted to go, up to the hillside, evergreen treed, flowing clear, water falls,<br />So we all walked her there, after her memorial, through Steffans green grass field, and I did hear the flying angels calls.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So we all carried moms ashes, across a 40 acre field, up to the foothill treed mountain, to our sacred, giving water falls,<br />To the flowing falls we grew up drinking the water, our whole life upbringing, it still does flow, turbulent, with echoing calls,<br />Those sacred falls that gave us all life, to be nourished and to be raised, and to grow tall and big, and to survive and give,<br />Then moms ashes, poured down from the top, cascading down, making a holy, white waterfall, for us to all, see and again live.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">D.M. Beebe</span></strong>mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-30398343423953878172016-10-03T20:43:00.000-07:002016-10-03T20:43:00.085-07:00Once in a Blue Moon - <strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every now and again, visits me every few years, Once in a Blue Moon,<br />A friend like a stellar event, from near or afar, floats in on a hot air balloon.<br />Setting down, to just check in and say hi, then bye, might see you again soon ?<br />Saying as floating up, up, and away, from the Tualco Valley, hot July afternoon.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Memories upon my porch, a sitdown of coffee and thoughts, its asked of me,<br />Where, if anywhere, would you move, south like me, to the capital of Albany ?<br />I would like to move to Oregon, but its the wrong direction, catch me if you can,<br />I would rather visit for a year, the South Pacific, or SE Alaska, the Islands near Ketchican.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My friends facial espression, that knowing smile, of what I adventursome, exploringly meant,<br />Its hard to come by anymore, the older we get, as our lifes exploring treasure, is already half spent.<br />Its within us all, traveling times have passed on now, of going round the world, here and there,<br />If I travel now, near of far, it better have abundant fruits, to sustain me and mine, to bountifully bare.<br /> <br />Once all the old things, have been newfound, what will travel have to show, for mankind, our soul to heal ?<br />Where will we travel and explore anymore, the smaller of the Earths surprises, and adventures to reveal ?<br />I think the answer, once mankinds done exploring Earths lands and oceans, might come none too soon,<br />Its traveling through time and across space, to find new habitable planets for us all, past the Blue Moon.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">D.M. Beebe</span></strong>mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-48178869584668895192016-10-03T20:41:00.003-07:002016-10-03T20:41:32.167-07:00Skywriter - <strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The day nears an end, as the downflow wind starts to swirl and blow,<br />I look up as the light suspends, the inverted pressure is at a evening low,<br />The orange blue skies palette is streaked jetstream white, its a skywriter !<br />Triggering my thoughts instantly, antiquated, an old memory enlightener.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Days of old, days of green grass on our backs, upwardly cloud gazing,<br />Whats that in the sky ? A skywriter making a white trail, curiously its amazing !<br />We also look at the clouds and shapes, is that Charlie Brown, or Scooby Doo ?<br />Shapes and thoughts, in the minds of us, on our backs looking up, me and you.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Times experiences rise and set, round and round the Earth, and sometimes back again,<br />But some things like skywriters, and guessing shapes in the clouds, certainly do remain,<br />When I see a skywriter like this evening, I think back and remenisce, into my history,<br />I remember who I was with, in the green grass, upwardly gazing, into skyward discovery.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So some sunset look upwards, at skywriters and cloud shapes, to view the setting sky,<br />Look up with a friend, discover and make memories, in your minds to recall later, if you try,<br />It is strange, that many years later, when I look up into the evenings, orange blue skylight,<br />I see the same skywriters and cloud shapes of our past, circling the Earth, in a prior twilight.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">D.M. Beebe</span></strong>mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-81250598777086563402016-10-03T20:39:00.004-07:002016-10-03T20:39:57.094-07:00To The $5 Flower Bouquet Thief !<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When you first encounter, the honor system, of the beautiful, $5 flower bouquet stand,<br />A regular, honest person, pays a $5 dollar bill in the money box, with cash readily in hand,</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gladly and happily, one will pay a $5 dollar bill, for a beautiful handcrafted, flower bouquet,<br />But some of you thieves, deem it not worthy, and pay nothing at all, to our fuhqen dismay ?</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We cannot understand your thievery, of our flower bouquets, sneakthieves, hands oh so fast,<br />Your thievery, is unjustified, its gotten old now, its gone on way too long now, finally at long last !</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So go forever away now, you flower bouquet thieves, as we have watching eyes now, as of today,<br />Otherwise we will quit offering these flower bouquets, to the honest customers, who do honestly pay.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Flower Shack !</span></strong>mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-52821224779728371102016-09-21T21:54:00.000-07:002016-09-21T21:56:40.424-07:00Mount Index - <strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When I need to getaway, away from life, get lost and not found, to be with nature, just my dog and myself,<br />I drive towards the foothills mountains, on hwy 2 eastbound, just past the lateral moraine, Cascade shelf,<br />I usually turn right onto the gravel Mount Index River Road, and park at the new discovery pass gravel lot,<br />However, if you are a iron oxide, rusty hiker like me, you know the way up and around, to the other parking spot.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If not so, park and hike, suck air in as you trek, up the old road, a mile or so, up to the Bridal Veils sign of Falls,<br />Stop there, if you know the old trail to the right of 4 falls, with Honeymoon Mine, take this route as whispers calls,<br />Exploring the mines branching shafts, into its tunnel maze of amazement, flashlight faces do adventourously show,<br />The old copper mine branches multiple time, left and right, even goes up with ropes, with a trecherous 30' cavern below.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Then hike up the old trail of many boots, climb up the old vines, take a break at any of the 4 falls, along the misty way,<br />The falls are all beautifully dangerous, so find a safe viewing spot, upon the glacial granite rocks, with splashing spray,<br />Take pictures, make memories, but also take time to look out at the valleys horizon, to find the truth inside yourself,<br />Then look up, when you get to Lake Serene, at Mount Index's towering peaks, recaculating your theories of wealth. </span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A blue tarp I have hidden, for my tent if it downpours, where mice and hawks only now go, as rockslides show, <br />The forest service, closed off that side of the lake, where winter glaciers and summer rockslides, always will flow,<br />I had many tent nights, at that little west side, mountain side, rodent infested, rockslide treed, Lake Serene, oasis,<br />I will hike up and go there again, whatever the rules, as it gives peace to my spirit and mind, nothing else ever replaces.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">D.M. Beebe - </span></strong><a href="mailto:the4beebes@frontier.com"><strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">the4beebes@frontier.com</span></strong></a>mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-60155165718248522022016-08-26T00:38:00.000-07:002016-09-20T12:48:48.382-07:00Old Growth Trees - <strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I admire, the last big Trees that have still survived, to exist, and exhale air for us all daily, listen to their sound,<br />Humans persist, but I think the Trees are all more worthy of forever standing, upon their Old Growth high ground,<br />As they were here before us, and no others have a right more than they do, to be in their forest, in their surround, <br />Except their true friends; the wind, rain, sun, animals, and mycology, full of interactive nutrients, the soil is bound.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sometimes you might want to listen to them, at least once in your life time, take the time . . . make your mind clear.<br />These special Old Growth Trees have something to say, they are the teachers full of wisdom . . . listen, can you hear ?<br />They have tried to talk to us for hundreds of years now, for the harmfull species to learn from . . . we are their friends, right ?<br />The Trees have real true friends, but its not us, even though we cant exist without them, does that shed some forest light ?</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "arial";"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We humans are the takers of the Old Growth Trees, the gravel mines, the oceans fisheries, the animals, and the gas and oil,<br />We are exploiting at will, to meet our needs, how much more can the Earth take ? With this surface and sub-exploring toil ? <br />I mean really ? What can we do now ? To save our planet Earth, our special one of a kind, unique, Galactic, little blue marble ?<br />Give me an answer, because I dont have one, Im sorry, I tried long and hard to think of something, my mind has tunnel carple.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What I do when I feel lost within this World, and I have many questions, that nobody can ever give me answers to, or correlate,<br />I go for a drive to the foothills, park and take a hike, to a place in the mountains, by the falls, in the woods, to think, and to relate,<br />I know when I get there, Im with friends, with many answers for me, their always there for me, to breathe air with, and appreciate,<br />The Old Growth Trees are always my friends, and I am always their friend, until humans with saws invade, to friendship delineate.</span></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">D.M. Beebe - </span></strong><a href="mailto:the4beebes@frontier.com"><strong><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">the4beebes@frontier.com</span></strong></a></span><br />
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<br />mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-87940583265435593412015-05-15T11:26:00.001-07:002015-05-15T11:32:29.699-07:00Poetic Stories by D.M. Beebe - Barnes and Noble<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/poetic-stories-dm-beebe/1121900201?ean=9781503568945">http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/poetic-stories-dm-beebe/1121900201?ean=9781503568945</a> .mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-29443471907753822812015-05-15T11:25:00.001-07:002015-05-15T11:31:07.302-07:00Poetic Stories by D.M. Beebe - Amazon<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Poetic-Stories-D-M-Beebe/dp/1503568938/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1431456510&sr=1-1&keywords=d.m.beebe">http://www.amazon.com/Poetic-Stories-D-M-Beebe/dp/1503568938/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1431456510&sr=1-1&keywords=d.m.beebe</a> .mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-33937145415980436702015-04-28T23:57:00.002-07:002015-04-30T22:42:59.745-07:00People have Pollen and Flowers have Friends -<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">We exist within nature,
learning and growing every day, </span></b><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Our lifes pollen is
love and caring, sharing every way,</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">With intertwined roots,
and flowering fruits on the vine, </span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">My pollen becomes
yours, your pollen becomes mine. </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">People have Pollen and
Flowers have Friends, </span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">We live on forever, we
live on again.</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b> </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Our pollen flies, on
lifes swirling wind and stormclouds,</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">And falls down upon us
all, with lightning and thunder loud,</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">As we pollinate each
other, over and over again, in the rain,</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Life sprouts and starts,
life wilts and ends, evolving not in vain.</span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">People have Pollen and
Flowers have Friends,</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">We live on forever, we
live on again. </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">When lifes season is
gone, the memories of us, lives forever on,</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Because we become one
another, our pollen of love, has not gone,</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Theres a sacred garden,
where we all exist, and grow in the end,</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">The garden where we
will be, is here in time, forever to again spend.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">People have Pollen and
Flowers have Friends,</span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">We live on forever, we
live on again.</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b> </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">D.M. Beebe<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></span>mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-52419128141671975942015-04-27T18:47:00.001-07:002015-04-28T18:42:15.976-07:00Old Big Blue - <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>Old Big Blue, we surely will miss you,<br />Many jobs and chores, we got r done with you,<br />Always tried and true, you always came through,<br />44 seasons we did work, many acres with you.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>Big and bold, you were old, not shiny and new,<br />You brushcut and rototilled, always right through,<br />Old school, Old Big Blue, you were certainly badass,<br />You always turned the soil, you always cut the grass.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>Fill your fluids up, and it just would leak through,<br />But slow enough, to get the job done, Old Big Blue,<br />Spread and backblade gravel, yup, you could do that too,<br />Or move chips, or manure, we could always count on you.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>Clear the woods, you would just push right through,<br />It seemed there was nothing, that you could not do,<br />84 Horses in a 4x4 Ford Tractor, Thank You, Old Big Blue,<br />You were something else, we will always remember you.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>D.M. Beebe</strong></span><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></strong><br />mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-55230093253869379882015-04-14T22:42:00.002-07:002015-04-20T11:01:03.985-07:0050 Feet Above Sea Level in Tualco Valley - <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>As I stare with my dog friend Otter, into the campfire sparks, flamingly ablaze,<br />Our thoughts swirl and float up, grey and thick, mixing with the smoky, swirling, haze,<br />With Otter, a overcast spring rain is coming down upon us, and our friends, the spring frogs, <br />Together we listen and think, as it wrings and rinses out, our saturated, mossy minds fogs. </strong></span><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>One might think, that this is not right, or even seasonally, strangely spent time in the rain, <br />But to me and Otter, its much needed time outdoors, spent soggy, with much for us to gain,<br />As we dont like other recreational activities, or crowds and sports, or loud fast race cars, <br />But we like to campfire in Tualco Valley, and watch above on clear nights, the moon and the stars.</strong></span><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>We are not strange, but in fact, we are both witfull, and thoughtfully, rather kinda normal,<br />Even though, we always look like farmers and dogs, in the flatland, wearing our fur and flannel, <br />As this is our life we have made, and this is the life we are from, and appreciate, and do like,<br />Ever since being both born into Tualco Valley, and into the foothills trees, if we uphill take a hike.</strong></span><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>We do know and understand our placement in life, situated precisely where we greatfully are,<br />Which is 50 feet above sea level, in Tualco Valleys fertile farmland, marked with many tractors scar,<br />We can go up if we like into the foothills, or down deeper into the boggy, saturated, flatland, <br />But to have the valley to oneself anymore, is hard to find, but theres always plenty of sand.</strong></span><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>So we just watch it all blow over somedays, in the skies above, as we stay put and enjoy,<br />As we watch the world run its course everday, with no one else, but us to certainly annoy,<br />Sometimes the worlds comes to visit us, and says sometimes, lets be neighbors, or friends,<br />As it is welcoming here, come visit us sometime, as Tualco Valleys friendship has no ends.</strong></span><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>D. M. Beebe</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong></strong></span><br />mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-64444019040783021282015-04-12T00:07:00.005-07:002015-04-14T12:35:41.074-07:00Bigfoot - <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>When I walk in the woods in the day, and I tent and campfire through the long, dark night,<br />I have heard the trees knocking, and the screams of strange origins, making me fright,<br />I have heard the stories, from the indigineous, and the new invaders, exploring the land,<br />I can understand only one thing, and that is, that are minds, can explanation demand.</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>We are smart enough, without evidence, to consciously make up an explanation,<br />For what we cant see, but myth and experience, and senses, do spill into certain revelation,<br />Of a hairy monkey mankind, that does hide in the rainy forests, of the moss, and of the trees,<br />And that for thousands of years, has eluded detection, but for what your mind makes believes.</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>When you go out alone, into the woods of rain, into the terrestrial woodland darkness, <br />Your mind feels scared, your body vulnerable, phsycologically, you need a harness,<br />Something to make you feel safe, protected, because against nature, you are never strong,<br />Because mankind as always, in the wilderness alone, needs Bigfoot, to survive and get along.</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>We cannot accept, that we never will be, the strongest of the woodland hairy wild beasts,<br />And that many other species out there, could have us at will, as their hot blooded tasty feast,<br />And so we make up, the myth of the manlike creature, we name Yeti, Sasquatch, or Bigfoot,<br />To be on top of the food chain, to feel kinship safety at night, with stories that deeply take root.</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>D.M. Beebe</strong></span>mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-15205785961636609662015-04-05T23:41:00.001-07:002015-04-14T12:39:42.893-07:00Tomorrow - <div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed">
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is always tomorrow,<br /> Tomorrow is always another day,<br /> Tomorrow is to dream about, such as happiness or sorrow,</span></strong><span class="text_exposed_show"><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Tomorrow is faith and hope, the future history of Yesterday.</span></strong></span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show"></span><strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> We will all not rise again someday, on the third day,<br /> While the palms wave and line the streets on display, we will all be there anyway, <br /> Because you do not have to take sides, to believe and to have hope,<br /> Because a kind gods religion, has not leverage, to pursuade threat of hell or death, within its scope.</span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> We will all look upon and ponder our future, we will all survey lineage, anotherday, <br /> We will all think of our offsprings future, within our mother planets magical big array,<br /> As we all our spirits of our childrens future, memories of their past,<br /> Like ancestors before me, in the air and in my mind, memories and instincts, that do seem to somehow last.</span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I hope you respect my opinion, I hope you understand,<br /> 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,<br /> But we should have faith and hope anyway, even with the unknowing, <br /> And any of gods kind religions would not condemn, judging upon your lifes deeds and showing.</span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> And they would I hope, not leverage the threat of hell or death, if you did not commit bad deeds, as well, <br /> And that a kind god of mankind, has such a big forgiving heart, to enclose the earth, if it did swell, <br /> So forgive me as I do follow the path, of uncommon thinking of the mystical prince of peace and the father giver, <br /> As I think the higher energy source power that makes us evolve does, accept me and you, as worthy, as the eternal forgiver.</span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">D.M. Beebe</span></strong></div>
mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-1087578826099839862015-03-31T21:41:00.003-07:002015-04-27T17:59:20.441-07:00Timber r r -<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I stand here for 600 years, and survey the landscape , of my foothills and valley, as far as I can see,<br />Never until recently, there has never been, lights on the horizon, when the sun sets daily, into the sea,<br />There is a species, I have caught wind of, I have heard from the birds and squirrels, its called humanity,<br />They have a need , they call it urban sprawl, to fullfill there life dreams, within their society.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To expand and grow, to achieve and succeed, from the bottom to the top, to climb their species ladder, <br />They need a home, made from my tree bones, to saw and build upon my lands, to them it doesnt matter,<br />They dont realize, that I inhale their carbon poison, and I exhale out their much needed oxygen,<br />Maybe someday, when the sky turns finally grey, even inhalers wont supplement air, of times gone and when. </span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I stand, and I watch, upon days end horizons lights, as they move across the foothills and up the valley, and grow near,<br />I watch the scars of clearcuts grow closer, my family is cut down in their progressive thoughtless path, as we do treefully fear,<br />Until one day, the human came to claim, even the far hill of 600 years from which I stood, watched, breathed, lived, and resist,<br />To cut down my tree bones, to make many of little homes, for their species, to survive in a box, thrive and exist.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Inevetibly, one morning, the sky lead line yarder came near, with high line and 4 chokers ready to drop set,<br />The human in a hickory shirt, with his butterknife, did get ready, at my trunk marked with an X, to 2 cycle rip-roar, and blood let,<br />I felt the notch sting, I felt the backcut burn, I felt the white hot feel, of the chainsaws teeth ripping steel, <br />I spurt out my blood of xylem and phloem, I cannot believe this is my 600 years of respect I get, this is my end, it is so surreal.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I pass out from the pain, with my last view of the horizon, as Im rushing in the wind, one time, last again,<br />This time not standing, blowing, swaying in the breeze, but dying as I fall, and bust up and crash down, to remain.<br />The humans said ' Timber r r ', I guess thats my given human name ?<br />But my sapling offspring call me ' Hemlock ', and they will repopulate the hillside, to fight back, to once again, reclaim.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">D.M. Beebe</span></strong>mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-23019017097995072072015-03-31T19:13:00.003-07:002015-03-31T19:40:35.608-07:00Brother Dans 50th B-Day -<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Good times are when, fun times are had, at my brother Dans 50th birthday, <br />Good times are when, the sun shines on us all, from above that timely day, <br />Good times are when, you enjoy all, many great people, everyones friends, <br />Good times are when, you talk with each other, into the sunsets orange ends.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When you socialize, learn and meet, interesting old and new friends, <br />To hear lifes stories, as the day sets slowly, until the sunset no longer suspends, <br />Spring forward in March, not us, no way, as we reluctantly acknowledge, but disobey, <br />We want to hold back time, BBQ, party all day and night, we do want to make time pay.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But time does somehow, strike our lifes clock, to give us its timely advise, <br />Somehow it finds our lifes hour, at our cost, to charge us its annual price, <br />And when we realize, that we might have finally at long last, eventually lost, <br />Because all of our lives are just a warm Spring thaw, or a cold Winters frost.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But my brother Dan to me, in and throughout, all of our lives changing Seasons, <br />In all four of them, through our lives, has given me many of perspective reasons, <br />No way, no how, could I have ever asked for a better brother, my constant protector, <br />I would have been lost without my brother Dan, my perpetual lifes harm deflector.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Good times is the thought, me and my brother Dan, will again experience lifes wonderous insight, <br />We will walk together, someday again, through our long lives brotherly path, to the magical light, <br />Good times is the thought, me and my brother Dan, will again learn about life, our struggle and strife, <br />We will talk together, someday again, as brothers always end up together, in the happy ever afterlife.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Love You Brother Dan & Happy 50th Birthday !</span></strong>mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-4084123090608524172015-02-16T12:23:00.000-08:002015-02-17T12:19:36.115-08:00Rusty Treasure - <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>The things that I like most, the things in that I place value and trust, <br /> Are not gems, or silver, or gold, but are aged from old wood and iron rust, <br /> The old, the aged, the fallen down, layered with dirt and dust, </strong><span class="text_exposed_show"><br /><strong> Like old farms, old barns, tractors with implements, with a surface crust.</strong></span><br />
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<strong> Certainly what one seeks, is certainly to ones own pleasure, <br /> But for me there is no doubt, it is the buried rusty treasure, <br /> The old, the forgotten, the dilapidated, the old homestead, <br /> Thats long been without cattle, long been without household head.</strong></div>
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<strong> It has been long forgotten, it has been long left to the seasons, <br /> Why left so long ? Im not sure ? But they all have there reasons, <br /> So upon the land and buildings, and machinery, of old farms revitalized, <br /> Historic rusty treasures are to be found, their past they have symbolized.</strong></div>
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<strong> But they are not valued by most, the old farm relics, from valley days of old, <br /> But the ones I have salvaged, I appreciate, I ponder the past, as I hold, <br /> It might seem funny, to some, that are not from the valley farmland, <br /> But to me, worth saving, times rusty treasures, of wood, rust, and sand.</strong></div>
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</span><br />mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-82246405678400670292015-02-02T20:06:00.000-08:002015-02-26T12:16:51.921-08:00H20 and Life -<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Like ghostly spirits, floating, swirling, steaming vents, expanding into a midnight tryst, <br />Under the bright star light, and illuminating moonlit night, does glow, a evaporate, heavenly foggy mist.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With which we gather, and with which we extract, out our condensate, of souls to then exist,<br />So that all of us live, and all of us absorb another day, with each other on Earth, and all of us then, do so persist.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Such as freezing ice and snow that forms from the air, its existance is everywhere, solid upon the surface, <br />Weather it be a icy glacier, or hanging as a icicle, the solidifyer can stand still, nothing else can replace.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hard as a bone, and white as well, the shaper of time and valleys whenceforth, does always live,<br />It is alive today, high on the hills and mountains, and its thawing tears pour daily, and it does always forgive.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Drips, raindrops, falls, liquid water, a collective stream or creek, its runs together with which to form, cascade and deliver,<br />Always born with power and full of life, inspiring, as it forms into a turbulent, abundant, river.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our creator of life, the giver for every species on Earth, from the air, or from the land, or from the sea . . . <br />From the far outer galaxies icy asteroid, too the deep ocean floor, it will be there always, for us all in between, into our eternity . . . </span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">D.M. Beebe</span></strong>mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6587928473488650488.post-76537413886177591292015-02-02T20:02:00.001-08:002015-02-02T20:02:15.781-08:00Time and the Mind - <strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Make your mark on Earth, timemark it with your hand,<br />Color your environment, paint your worlds palette, the sky, the land,<br />As time is of the essence, the clock ticks every year, so do it while you still can,<br />Add purpose, and reason, timestamp it deep, into your wonderous lifespan.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">School, college, work, and challenging pursuits at life,<br />Coffee, commuting, classrooms, cubicles, timelines, all encompassing strife,<br />Tribulations, schedules, lifes tests, maybe get a happy hour drink ?<br />Always every day, it makes you wonder, it always everyday, makes you think.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As we all are aware with the passing of time, and we do all somehow know,<br />Each year turns a page of our life, and the years of our life, they do eventually show, <br />But our minds do persist, and makes our memories therefore, that do stay and last,<br />Chiseled into our thoughts, to be there engraved, overtime, to stay and to everlast.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But facial recognition, even with the name, I'm maybe still not for sure,<br />If I remember you, If my memory of you is still there, still clear, and crystal pure,<br />It does get clouded, over the lifespan of time, the older that we forgetfully get,<br />As Im sure you know as well, if we had to make a remembrence bet.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The thing is this, is doesnt matter, lets forget about each others memory lapses, so lets shall,<br />Because my forgotten friends, I have a hard time remembering you all too, longlost, as well, <br />It does not really matter much anyway, as myself and you have long faded into memory,<br />From days of old, from the time when our stories are made and to offspring told, of when we lived our history.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So give me some slack, so give me some leadway, if I dont remember way back, way back in the day,<br />As my memory of us may be clouded, by many days and years, by many seasons, cloudy, rainy, and grey,<br />But when I remember you, It most certainly would be during a stormcloud, sunbreak, double rainbow,<br />And with that sight, I will smile my friend, and our acquaintance, ponder, remember you and know.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">D.M. Beebe</span></strong>mattbeebepoemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14379933654291050229noreply@blogger.com0