Wilderness Blues- Ramblings from the Great Land

I recently read this delightful poem on Fan Story, a writing website. This poem is by my friend Adonna, Marie Gipe. She's an exceptionally talented writer, and had penned a vast array of wonderful poems. If you should enjoy this poem, she has a book available on Amazon titled - Songs Before Dawn . It's filled with all manner of great poems. I've never cared for poetry before, but after reading various offerings from some of the poets on FS, I've found a new appreciation for poetry, something  even I am surprised by. I hope you enjoy this.                     Hidden Treasure  -  by Adonna Marie Gipe                            A young girl named Angela, quiet and slight,                       lay down in her bedroom to ponder her plight.                            It wouldn't be easy, but it would be right.                            She asked God to guide her by His gentle voice.                          She placed her hand over the baby, now showing,               

     Let's face it, we're all going to die some day. Who knows, it could be today. I'm fast approaching the age of seventy, and with all the pains that have become a part of my every day life, I'm constantly reminded that I'm not going to live forever, nor do I want to. I haven't got the strength. My wife and I had long ago drawn up a will. We didn't want the state determining where our estate would go. We still need to sit down and come up with a list of existing bank accounts and where our 401K and IRA's are located, and I suppose I should commit to paper where I would like some of what I've treasured in this world to end up. I won't give my wooden fishing boat to either of the boys, I don't want to burden them with that. I do have quite a bit of commercial fishing gear though that they could keep or sell. Then there are the tools and books and other odds and ends. I've already told my granddaughter that she can have my stamp collecti

There is a moose on the loose And he's in my front yard  He's eating my branches, The big tub of lard  He's come down from the mountains Searching for food Eating twigs, leaves and bushes  It's really quite rude All summer long I take care of my plants I keep out the dogs, with loud, vile rants  Now that it's winter, and there's lots of snow The moose leave the mountains, they know where to go Let's head down to Tom's place, we'll have us a feast So they come to my yard, the great hairy beasts They feed on the willows, they break off the trees With no one to stop them, they do as they please  I don't really begrudge them,  a small branch or two If I were a moose, I know what I'd do  I'd head into town, where the snow isn't too deep I'd eat some dry branches and then go to sleep Here in Alaska, we've learned how to share  With all the wild animals, deer, moose and bear Mutual respect, we must endeavor to pay And so every mornin

 When I was a teen I spent a fair amount of time at the home of my best friend, Don Snyder. It was a lot more laid back and fun at his house than it was at mine. My dad had a temper and I was never sure what would set him off. Don's father, on the other hand, was more like an overgrown kid at times. He would often hear us sitting on the porch swing laughing and talking and come out and chuckle with us, or would give us a blank stare, shake his head and say "You rotten kids" as he walked off. Of course that would set off a fresh burst of laughter from the two of us. He was fun to be around. It wasn't uncommon for me to spend a Sunday afternoon at Don's house, especially in the winter. Don's mother would fix hot chocolate and we would all sit around watching TV with the lights off. His father would sit in his favorite recliner and make snide comments about whatever was playing on the television. Whenever he had something to say to us, he would always preface it