The path like muse

I like to write poetry, I often do not share it with people. I know that this is a blog for people looking for technical or logistics information about trails, but sometimes the paths inspire us creatively and I think that also has a lot of value to be shared. I can think of some stories of the life of trails that have inspired many and me to embark on hiking (a ride through the forest, wild, etc.), so I just want to share some of mine at this time. I hope that even if they are not as long as those texts, they inspire you to find the creative side of yourself and your experience on the path. I hope you enjoy.

The poems

I am sharing two poems, one inspired by each path I made this summer. I think one is much easier to guess than the other. But this is not about the exact location, more where the path brings us.

Nova

I am a brat crying again,

Turning their hot spikes through my relatives.

I am taking generational water oceans;

The earth shrinks from a 1.5l contrex bottle.

I am using my languages ​​and growing another –

A manada human wonders: Who?

But when the fog protects me in wet blankets,

I ask that they wrap me so that my blood line can be heated again.

But when the rain reforms the world’s plastic container,

I ask you to stop and let my posterity solidify.

But when I bend my three languages, just

able to fit in my mouth,

I ask you, drooling through a smile: should we be a flock?

Eating as lambs

Sheep swinging through the rock slide until the last hill of grass before the exterior hebrids,

We saw the sheep to guide their lambs and the lambs load the pronouncers of their mothers for milk.

The way the lambs moved their tails and threw their entire bodies

While completely imperturbed sheep chewed the grass in circular movements caused laughter in both.

We present a glorious dinner on the table: a bottle of wine, macaroni with dehydrated cheese,

and a ziploc gallon bag full of dust that used to be Ritz cookies.

Our complete bodies folded on each tablespoon of macaroni with cheese with ritz mixture.

We wash everything with wine and jokes with ambient temperature over American exceptionalism.

We ate as lambs: we had a strong and accusatory conversation between who was more jealous:

Serbian or German football fans, while the earth whipped the wind and the clouds let out a light rain.

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