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 – SCAVENGER HUNT

July 21 – Today’s camp activity is a scavenger hunt or sorts. A camp wordle to keep you occupied for a bit this morning/afternoon/evening… Use some or all but fit these words into you poem. We’ve been getting some marvelous poems this month. Let’s finish up strong!

Camp Wordle

STAYING ON THE TRAIL

July 20 – RENAISSANCE CAMP *

July 19 – AMPHIBIANS, ARACHNIDS AND REPTILIANS

July 18 – THIS AND THAT

July 17 – SURVIVOR

July 16 – THE LAKE : OTTAVA RIMA (FORM)

* Did anyone notice I re-invented camp as caqmp?

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45 thoughts on “GRANADA CAMP FOR WAYWARD POETS – SCAVENGER HUNT

  1. William Preston on said:

    ENOUGH!

    This camp has few facilities—
    no Johnnies-on-the-Spot—
    we build with stones instead of logs;
    a modern camp it’s not.

    Here, everything is primitive:
    we drink from leaf canteens
    and every season we come here
    we have to dig latrines,

    and every time we hear a sign
    of nature on the trail—
    a bear’s deep roar, coyote’s howl—
    we feel like we’re in jail,

    We know that we must soon escape
    this rusticated hell
    and take canoes and lanterns to
    the nearest warm hotel.

    copyright 2014, William Preston

  2. ESCAPE

    Vacation time:
    Follow nature’s trail.
    Search high and low for signs
    of bear and howling wolves
    till sun dims to pale
    and night birds chime.

    #

  3. Summer Camp

    With one small suitcase and my backpack
    The new lantern my grandfather gave me
    And a canteen filled with sweet well water
    It was time to leave my family behind
    And escape to my new home in the woods
    My grandparents needed a vacation from me

    I can’t wait to get in the canoe with Jon
    Pay him back for pushing me into the water
    Then I’ll take a couple newbies Skipe hunting
    And see if they can beat the time I took
    To make it back to the camp in the dark
    Oh, what fun it’s going to be this year

    And there’s the sign to Camp Magnificent
    Back to nature where bear and deer roam
    Hiking the trails, skipping stones
    Sitting on a log at night gazing at the stars
    And listening to the wolves howl at the moon
    This is my hotel for the next two weeks

    © 2014 Earl Parsons

  4. connielpeters on said:

    Family Vacation

    We’ll all explore nature outdoors,
    Escape this urban jail.
    No bargain hunting at the mall.
    We’ll hike the lakeside trail.
    Yes, we’ll beware, of the black bear.

    We’ll watch for signs of critters there,
    A howl, some scat or print.
    We’ll glide along in sleek canoes.
    The view’s magnificent.
    Lanterns at night, to give some light.

    The family will all have fun
    In rivers and the lakes.
    They’ll fill canteens and play and swim,
    Skip stones and watch for snakes.
    Nix PlayStation, this vacation.

    We’ll sleep under the moon and stars,
    while wind blows through our tent.
    We’ll save the fee for hotel stay
    Or a log home’s high rent.
    The group’s retort? We choose resort!

  5. Pingback: Landscape – in Dots and Dabs | Metaphors and Smiles

  6. Landscape – in Dots and Dabs

    Follow star-lit stones homeward,
    Nature’s trail lanterns shine magnificently
    and the moon has signed her shifting signature.

    Slivers of her have escaped the container of sphere
    as a canteen poured – her golden-glowing aura spills;
    she’s written intricately on the surface of sea, lake and pond.

    Water embraces a vacation from the scorch of direct rays
    it’s a temporary trade – heated day for chill of night,
    pervasive sunlight persists still in a spray of cooling-splinters.

    A midnight hunting owl shakes loose the silence of sleeping things
    its broad wings swoop and overlay the land with a crisp traveling-outline,
    it flies above a turtle family’s hotel – a large log in the shadows of shore.

    Dimly lit trunk transforms – bears the mark of Monet.
    Tree fallen becomes an impressionistic painting,
    a dark stippled-streak of a portrait – canoe in waiting.

    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2014

    I employed them all with one exception – I turned howl into owl. 🙂
    Thank you for this fun wordle, Walt!!

  7. Priti on said:

    Vacation– ( haikus)

    Signs of homes around
    5 star hotels made of logs
    Magnificent spreads

    Treasure hunting howls
    Firefly bouncing lanterns
    Papa bear leads on

    Water dripping stones
    Canteen quenches appetite
    Canoe escapes free

    Mother Nature’s trail
    Relating all families
    Under one blue roof

  8. Darlene Franklin on said:

    I love the challenges. But I realized that I was neglecting my contracted, paying fiction for poems . . . so I will work on as I have time. After I catch up. Sigh. I’d rather howl on the nature trail with the rest of you.

    • connielpeters on said:

      I wondered how you were keeping up. Just jump in when you can. I don’t think your editor will take poeming as an excuse for being late. 🙂

  9. LOST IN MY SURROUNDINGS

    I run down the trail, hunting for answers
    in this refuge far from home,
    answers to who and why I am.
    I come to this spot not for a vacation
    but to escape the heavy presence of myself.
    Can I find a sign in the dignity of nature?
    A family of bear cubs romps through the woods,
    clumsy feet snapping twigs.
    Leaping over a log, a pair of young wolves
    howl in their delight at this improvised game.
    I pause to skip stones across the lake
    watching lazy ripples extend over the water.
    A solitary figure maneuvers a canoe
    back to his nylon hotel after filling his canteen.
    I’m jealous. Mine remains empty.
    While fireflies work as a lantern.
    I contemplate my life with less enthusiasm
    than I have for the magnificent stars.

    © Susan Schoeffield

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  11. In Nature’s Hide-a-way

  12. In Nature’s Hideaway

    Days have lost their names, who cares,
    We have the sun to guide us.
    When it opens up the sky, it’s time to eat.
    When it nestles down in the piney woods
    We party.

    Afternoons we guide our canoes
    through murky, dreaming waters.
    Bears and deer spy on us from the
    shoreline. Lazy old carp tempt us
    from the muddy bottom. All of them
    are safe from harm.

    Our camp is in a no-hunting zone.
    It is a hotel for retired animals. The
    only hunting allowed is for lost coins.
    At night, the stars lend us their glitter.
    All the creatures that ever were, nestle
    among them. We walk quietly along
    the trails. Our only lantern is the moon.

  13. Escape

    We went on a vacation
    and traveled by canoe
    we sang camp songs
    under a magnificent view.

    No one threw stones
    at windows that didn’t exist,
    our home was a tent,
    our couch a log bench.

    Our hotel had trees
    and a family of bears,
    we’d bang our canteens
    to let them know we were there.

    At night,
    we would shut the lanterns off
    and the stars filled the sky
    like ten billion fireflies.

    We howled like wolves
    and drank water from the lake,
    we hunted for signs of life
    it wasn’t hard to mistake.

    Nature opened her arms
    and embraced us all,
    we headed for home
    with stories to enthrall.

  14. Escape From Camp Granada

    We scoffed at the idea of a scavenger hunt,
    but needed a vacation from camp,
    with its whistles, counselors, and rules.

    We were no fools, and split off from the group,
    carrying a bag of red stones, collected
    on a nature hike, to mark our way.

    Magnificent day for an adventure.
    Just in case we lost our way, and night fell,
    we took a lantern for the dark.

    Three smart boys even remembered to fill
    our canteens with plenty of water.
    Nothing could possibly go wrong.

    Crossed long logs over streams,
    devoured candy bars we had hoarded,
    and found ourselves in new surroundings.

    After bounding over the last log,
    we stumbled over a piece of metal.
    I turned it over. It was a sign.

    Yellow lines of caution, “Beware of
    Bears, and Poison sumac. Whitey fell
    right into the lap of poisonous leaves.

    “Oh Jeeez,” Cody yelled, and pulled him
    out. Too late. a rash was already
    stenciling his legs. I suggested we go back,

    and right at that exact moment, a howl
    resounded from deep in the woods.
    We froze, our toes like lead.

    turning around, we saw another sign
    that said, “No Hunting.” Figuring
    it wasn’t meant for bears, we ran,

    fast as we could stand it, drinking
    from our canteens on the fly. Red
    with bites, sweating and scratching,

    we finally made it back to Home Sweet Home,
    Camp Granada, where all the kids
    and counselors were out to greet us.

    At least we looked the part of scavengers.

  15. My wordle is slowly writing itself…

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