The Climb

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  • Life
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  • Self-direction
    • poetryrules
    • My status is: I don't know what to put here?!

    The Climb

     The Climb

    Climbing bare rock face,
    scaling my way up crumbling slopes,
    I strive to complete my journey.
    Up here, on this mountain,
    is a wealth of clean air to breathe.
    Up here, free of peopled clutter,
    I can gaze back on my pathway,
    question the course I have taken,
    study the unique journey that is mine.
    Oxygenated, invigorated,
    I will cross over to another view,
    survey the uncharted landscape below,
    compose my future as a poem.
    Then, I will descend, live that draft--
    perhaps disconcertingly solitary,
    maybe somewhat imperfect.
    Yet--directed completely by that
    which I myself scripted on once blank pages.
    My essence, my life--
    my own peculiar, exhilarating composition.

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    bandit1192 commented on The Climb

    11-29-2009

    I enjoyed the view. Up on your mountain seems like such a wonderful place to be. A place to think, a place to find that perfect, almost, path in life. Good poem, TS
    Reply to Comment

    poetryrules

    12/02/2009

    Thank you.

    Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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