The Climb
©2003 Susan Noyes Anderson, His Children, Vantage Point Press
Photograph ©2003 Anita Schiller
When do men lose the urge to climb
and run to ground?
Where children see a peak sublime
the grown-ups look at rock and grime,
When do men lose the urge to climb
and run to ground?
Where children see a peak sublime
the grown-ups look at rock and grime,
Too many sorrows I have known,
too many sadnesses unsaid.
A lake of woe surrounds my heart,
the last remains of tears unshed.
∞∞∞
If this poem resonates with you, you might also relate to Cocooned. Other related poems are pictured with titles below. For more options, you can visit the home page and click on an appropriately themed category like “Hope Poems,” “Hardship Poems,” etc.
Somewhere behind the angle of his face
resides the carefree child he used to be.
The soft curves yield to time, and in their place
emerge the strong lines of maturity.
You love me, or you say so; that’s a crock.
If this is love, then love’s been oversold,
alone together in a bed gone cold
and all we do for heat is talk talk talk,
Our love is deep and constant as the sea,
yet fresh as mountain air in early spring
and free as meadowlarks who, taking wing,
come home to find their rest in nest and tree.
If I had words to wrap around
those mommy days and mother years,
I’d hold them in my hands and say
that nothing ever disappears.
Bare branches,
gnarled, athritic fingers,
reaching, groping,
which way out?
The hummingbird outside my window flies
to drink of bougainvillea wine each day,
enticed by rich, magenta-colored prey
to claim the sweetest nectar as her prize.