POETIC BLOOMINGS

POETIC BLOOMINGS is a Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild site established in May 2011 to nurture and inspire the creative spirit.

GRANADA CAMP FOR WAYWARD POETS – POET CAMP

July 8th – You’ve heard of Day Camp, Band Camp, “Fat” Camp and of course, Poet Camp. Create a “Camp” of your own and write about it. Get as descriptive as you can and don’t leave out the imagery! 

 

STAYING ON THE TRAIL

July 7 – INTENSE IN TENTS

July 6 – HELLO MUDDAH, HELLO FADDAH

July 5 – DID YOU HEAR THAT?

July 4 – NIGHT LIGHTS OVER THE LAKE

July 3 – IN THE SUMMERTIME (MUSIC)

 

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99 thoughts on “GRANADA CAMP FOR WAYWARD POETS – POET CAMP

  1. CAMP LAZY DOES IT

    Nothing doing;
    the way we like it!
    A lovely trail
    we never hike it.
    All our crafts are
    done while seated,
    no ambition,
    strength depleted,
    No camp T-shirt,
    no camp cap,
    it’s time for our
    four-thirty nap.
    I love this camp,
    don’t think me crazy,
    all us campers
    here are lazy.

    (C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014

  2. I could go for a camp like that 🙂

  3. Pingback: River Camp | Vivinfrance's Blog

  4. Mine is an old one re-visited:

    River Camp

    I wake in the dawn to the sound of lapping water and the pungent scent of river mud. I stick my head out of the tent flap to watch the peaceful Thames. A hatch of midges dances, erratically catching the first rays of the sun. The grasses at eye level glisten with dew and silvered cobwebs join the green blades into a lethal network.

    Lazily I roll over, yawn and stretch. A cacophony of birdsong separates into distinct sounds: trills, squeaks, coos of wood pigeons, chattering chaffinches, melodies in harmony and à capella airs.

    The siren song of the river beats at my will until I squirm out of my sleeping bag and pull on yesterday’s clothes. Bare feet in cold, wet grass, then mud squidges between my toes as I push the dinghy with a rasping rattle until it floats. I clamber in.

    The current takes hold and the boat drifts peacefully past pollarded willows, their stubby trunks supporting an effusion of shaving brush fronds.

    A pair of swans glides past, with four cygnets in line astern. I spy a gaggle of fluffy baby moorhens under the bank with the triangles of their parents’ upturned tails nearby.

    A silent shadow swoops above, neck tucked in, as the heron searches intently for its breakfast in the murky green water. I am content.

  5. William Preston on said:

    A EUREKA! MOMENT AT POETRY CAMP

    Camping out,
    writing shadormas
    in the shade
    of a glade,
    I learn what verse is about:
    rhyming to reason.

    copyright 2014; William Preston

  6. There is indeed amazing inspiration when poets get together.

  7. FamCamp

    FamCamp is the place to go
    Spend a week getting to know
    Your spouse and kids and pets
    Those that you shouldn’t forget
    We’ve a cabin to fit you all
    Claim a bunk and have a ball
    FamCamp is the place to be
    Get to know your own family

    FamCamp offers home-made grub
    Cooked by grandmas and Uncle Bubb
    We’ve got story time with Mr. Jim
    It’s amazing what’s happened to him
    Pastor Peter will lead the devotionals
    All family centered promotionals
    At FamCamp we want you to see
    Just how wonderful a family can be

    At times you will go separate ways
    We teach with skits, dramas and plays
    Your participation will be expected
    So volunteer, don’t wait to be elected
    Then we’ll play and work up a sweat
    Then jump in the lake and get wet
    At mealtimes we’ll sit all together
    A time to jabber jaw about whatever

    At FamCamp our ultimate goal
    Is rebuilding each body and soul
    We’ll talk about respect and love
    With messages from the Good Lord above
    And before retiring at the end of each day
    There’s an hour for the family to pray
    Just remember, our purpose is clear
    A better family when you leave here

    © 2014 Earl Parsons

  8. WELCOME TO CAMP COMPASSION

    We welcome seekers of a richer life
    That stretches further than the ego‘s arm,
    Those lonely pilgrims who have known the strife
    Of battling inner demons who do harm.
    The doors are open to Camp Compassion
    Where lessons learned can make us all content.
    Blinders fall away. Thoughts move to action
    And souls take on a glow as they were meant.
    Internalize the value kindness brings.
    Abandon self. Become a friend to all.
    Attune yourself to hymns the angels sing.
    Compassion: Give a hand to those who fall.
    One day you’ll answer for the life you led.
    The compassionate have no need to dread.

    #

  9. William Preston on said:

    CAMP AVES

    In birding camp
    a pinyon jay is caterwauling;
    in birding camp
    the warblers, sounding wheezy damp,
    are flittering about, installing
    death to bugs that might be crawling
    in birding camp.

    copyright 2014, William Preston

  10. Pingback: Camp for Clearly Seeing (A Sevenling) | Metaphors and Smiles

  11. Camp for Clearly Seeing (A Sevenling)

    This is the place that we count the soft speckles on sea-worn beach pebbles,
    we number the innumerable white dots plotted, an inky black sky –freckled
    and here’s where we tally the colorful quantities of satin wild flower petals.

    These are the hours for measuring each breath against ocean’s every salty-gulp,
    seconds are calculated as sacred and kept by the clock of our internal pulse
    and mindful minutes mount as memories stored in long fronds of swaying kelp.

    This place is dedicated to Nature – these hours are ours, a gift and a choice to see clearly.

    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2014

  12. connielpeters on said:

    Complaining Camp

    Here is the place to go
    When life’s too fast
    And service slow
    The drinks too hot
    The food too cold
    The campers shy
    The help too bold
    The weather’s bad
    When stuff’s too tough to take
    This is the place to belly ache

    The soup is thick
    The steak’s too tough
    The bread’s a brick
    The butter runny
    The gravy’s thin
    No dessert
    Oh, you can’t win
    Appetite lost
    This is the place to growl and grumble
    Whine, grouse, scowl and mumble

    The crafts are dumb
    The games are dull
    You hit your thumb
    You’d rather go
    The beds are lumpy
    There’s too much rain
    Your clothes are frumpy
    It’s time to leave
    At criticism you’ve been a champ
    But leave your complaints at the camp

  13. Priti on said:

    A Creative Blooming Camp

    Wouldn’t it be wonderful
    to grow a camp, that takes field trips
    to ALlL these blooming camps !

    A camp that let’s your muse
    ride wild horses into smoky clouds
    and sun kissed ocean waves

    A camp that rolls your discomfort zone
    into a sleeping bag, and expands it
    into leafy worlds, unwinding mountain paths

    A camp that breathes into your summer
    the colors of fall, the stars of winter
    and the eternal love of spring

    Wouldn’t it be lovely
    To take your inside voice, outdoors
    to places, in places like this
    all year round——-
    Wouldn’t it—!

    • It would, indeed, Priti. It would be nice to know that whatever creation one does is appreciated by those to either side and to see other creations freely shared for the sake of sharing instead of other gains than friendship. Really nice.

    • William Preston on said:

      This is almost mesmerizing, full of tantalizing lines such as “take your inside voice, outdoors.” t feels like magic.

    • Yes, sort of like a progressive dinner except camp… I like that.

  14. I really liked this prompt. It allowed for creation of a wholly different kind.

    Camp Grotto

    In a deep, shadowed valley
    Swallowed by greens, browns,
    Camp Grotto opens itself
    To wonders and wonderers,
    With its broad chambers
    And its echoing delights.

    Campers learn what dark
    Really feels like, bedded
    Down in bunks against
    Rock walls, hearing faint
    Drips onto damp floor
    And blind cave crickets’ song.

    Whispers wash around chamber
    Walls, picking up listeners
    To conversations held within,
    And snoring becomes bear
    Growls to terrify and amuse,
    According to one’s temperament.

    Springy ferns envelop openings,
    Disguising kitchen and dining
    Rooms, both fascinating mysteries
    Pouring out aromas to tantalize
    Those passersby whose noses
    Find food but not nature’s bounty.

    Swimming comes in a natural pool,
    Deep enough for diving and still
    Enough for kayak practice, while
    Performing air conditioning duty,
    Crystalline water to reflect light
    And mesmerize each young snorkeler.

    For those of more sedate endeavors,
    A glade of flora to keep artist brushes
    Moving across pristine paper or canvas,
    Pinks, blues, yellows tease the eye
    And sooth the mind as tender breezes
    Play among blossoms meant to charm.

    You have come to Camp Grotto for
    Reasons only you define and within
    Its many spaces, seek and ye shall find.

  15. RJ Clarken on said:

    Princess Camp

    When ‘roughing it,’ I like my camp
    to cater to me; never cramp
    my style, which is like royalty.
    All counselors must show loyalty…
    Then, I’ll give my approval stamp.

    I want my creature comforts built-
    in, like A.C. (Don’t wanna wilt
    in summer heat.) And gourmet meals!
    As you can see, that’s what appeals
    to me. Of course, I bear no guilt.

    A nice firm bed. My pillows plumped.
    These are the things which get me pumped.
    No mud or dirt. No creatures vile.
    No nasty bugs or I won’t smile.
    If camp’s like this, then camp has trumped.

    My camping wish list is quite small
    ‘cause woodlands beat the urban sprawl.
    Just want what I’m accustomed to
    but with that stuff, I can make do.
    (Oh – one more thing? A shopping mall!)

    ###

    • Ah, the blessings of civilization where glamping has become something sought after and many are eager to comply. Love it, RJ. You’re not alone and can find a good fit. Hammer out a request, and Google is happy to find it. 🙂 I can think of at least two places off the top, where such luxuries are common and expected. One in BC, and the other from several selected. 🙂 ❤

    • William Preston on said:

      I love this, beginning with the title, which gave me a good hint of what was coming even as it suggested a tongue-in-cheek segue (“woodlands beat the urban sprawl”) . All in all, this is such a happy poem.

    • Darlene Franklin on said:

      and add a few wheelchair-accessible tweeks and it will be perfect

    • Can I book a reservation please? This sounds nice.

    • This is hilarious, RJ.

  16. Darlene Franklin on said:

    I’ve decided my reward for this month will be quantity and perseverance but not great poetry. 8 days in, I’m still there

    THROUGH THE WARDROBE

    There is a camp where only children go
    For once too old, you never come back
    A place without a truck or car sounds slow
    Until you win a race on lion’s back

    Mere horses fade beside centaurs and fauns
    Until they spin tall tales around the fire
    Small mice command your teams, not need brawn
    Their hope to reach world’s end leaves you inspired.

    On water, sailing ships replace canoes
    And arm yourself with sword and bows for sports
    A week’s too short but don’t be blue
    The lion Aslan lives at every port.

    • William Preston on said:

      The line,s “There is a camp where only children go / For once too old, you never come back,” remind me of Victor Herbert’s Toyland. Wonderful

      • Darlene Franklin on said:

        Thanks, William. Yes, I remember that song as well, although it didn’t occur to me while writing it.

  17. Camp of Dreams

    This is where my heart finds peace,
    Where my feet depart their boots
    And shrug off their plodding pace.
    This is where I fall still to silent, set
    Me quiet as water weaving shallow
    At the shore. The only sound the lap
    Of waves so gentle, my slow beating
    Heart, a tick of time. Here is where
    You’ll find me, deep within my dreams.

    • That went wrong. Here’s the full thing:

      Camp of Dreams

      This is where my heart finds peace,
      Where my feet depart their boots
      And shrug off their plodding pace.
      This is where I fall still to silent, set
      Me quiet as water weaving shallow
      At the shore. The only sound the lap
      Of waves so gentle, my slow beating
      Heart, a tick of time. Here is where
      You’ll find me, deep within my dreams.
      This is dreamacide. Sleepacide.

      I’m even camping in my dreams …

  18. Art Camp

    A slice of tranquility here on earth –

    We won’t be having four star accommodations
    (it is called ‘camp’ and art can be messy)
    but we will have hot and cold running water
    (yes, this means toilets, sinks and showers)
    and a comfy bed to rest our weary artistic heads
    (who can create on lack of sleep?).

    We will have art classes on the grass by the bay
    (bare toes and swimsuits under wraps recommended)
    and pottery will be in the open pavilion by the woods
    (please wear some clothes, can be hard to wash off…).
    The nude painting will have to be in a classroom
    (there are nudity laws that must be obeyed).

    All mediums of painting will be offered
    (on canvas or paper, please don’t paint your walls!).
    Sketching can be done – anywhere
    (except in the loo, that would be weird).
    There’s also a room for special crafts
    (these were included on your registration packet).

    Breakfast is casual
    (eat when you wake up)
    and lunch is picnic style
    (unless it rains, then we picnic inside).
    We will dress for dinner
    (as in shoes and clothes).

    Tea is at four o’clock
    (or anytime you care to make a cup)
    and margarita’s are at six o’clock
    (or anytime you care to make a pitcher)
    and frequent breaks are recommended
    (to make cups or pitchers).

    So come and enjoy
    the grass beneath your toes,
    the sun glistening on the bay,
    the open air pavilions
    and best of all …
    art camp – you won’t want to leave!

  19. Makes me wish I could draw, paint or watercolor.

  20. (Poem w/image: http://lettheballoonssailmeaway.wordpress.com)

    Puppy Camp

    Where we lie, where we’re lazy
    Where we escape, all the crazy
    Where we bark, where we howl
    Where we chase, cats that yowl
    Where we bite, where we play
    Where we dream of bones all day.

  21. Camp Whatever

    Are you a pinball wizard?
    Wanna bring your pet lizard?
    Popsicle stick artist?
    Astrology chartist?
    Painter, drawer,
    baseball scorer?
    guitar player, entertainer?

    Well, welcome to my camp!
    Pick a tent and paint it
    whatever color you choose.
    You can’t lose, because
    everyone here is a winner.
    Send us a list of your favorite
    foods. Our cuisine is flexible,
    varied, and you will not
    go hungry. Only problem we foresee–
    when the end of camp time comes–
    you will not be able to wait
    a year, to have this much fun.

  22. I’m tardy again, but I had the chance to meet Laurie Kolp in the flesh yesterday and had to take it. Fun to spend some time with Nancy Posey and Laurie. Here’s my Camp.

    Camp Laughalot

    Giggle, chuckle, snort, guffaw,
    knee slap, chortle, scream, tee hee,
    Camp Laughalot has just one law:
    have fun and laugh until you pee.

    Create some music, cuisine, art;
    play games aplenty; dance the dance.
    Whatever makes you glad of heart
    gives levity a fighting chance.

    If you’re a frowny-puss most days,
    it’s time you give laughter a shot.
    Come, learn to hoot in sixty ways
    and love life at Camp Laughalot.

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