A Collection of Poetry on Hiking

A Collection of Poetry on Hiking

A Collection of Poetry on Hiking

My New Hiking Boots

As our eighth anniversary draws near
I will then glance down at my weathered feet
where my new boots and folded laundry meet
to contemplate our stumbling without fear.
To resurrect my footwear as you did
to revive each green wooden memory
to linger in the taste of sensory
to resurrect my spirit from the dead.
As we push away the Manzanita
and crest the summit on an aged rock
another lifetime to tip the Lodgepole
to challenge marriage as old as cedar
the valley below with a grin to mock
another life for our Sierra soul.


Limerick for My Old Hiking Boots

There is a bit of work for the view
after first blister I am all through
but I’ll never admit
how gross these wounds can get.
Oh, thank God for these boots all brand new.

An incline is truly exhausting
and sometimes your calve muscles they sing,
stories around campfires,
this part never tires,
as much as a good day of climbing.

We will set up our small Sterno stoves
set up to sleep near some Aspen groves
an eye out for bears
with our thousand yard stares
in the chill we will put on our gloves.

Spent all day walking up this mountain
where pollen falls as if a fountain
to find waterfalls
and yodel out calls
or crack open a potted meat tin.

Morning with instant coffee galore
every muscle in your body sore
stretch the cold from your bones
get out your morning groans
head home after an overnight tour.


My Old Hiking Boots

I don’t know why I spent so much money
on hiking boots back when my life was lone
and ragged trails up into the ozone
unlike the earth and sky they were not free.
Four hundred dollars spent for my young feet
into the Canadian Rockies air
to delicately place each step with care
and to reach a ridge miles up, take a seat.
I swear I walked every trail in the park
I kept on walking up into the snow
to put mileage on those boots that season.
That feel on the land they have made their mark
each mountain memory I have to show
to pen to give that beauty reason.


More Hiking Boot Limerick

I walked our mountain trails in flip flops
more than once I slipped off rock tops
a huge scrape on my knee
a scar for all to see
needed new boots to hit all the stops.

My new boots wait for me after work
I remember the trail veers at fork
I hear each switchback call
new trails I found in fall
ready for each foots new found torque.

And although limerick is just for fun
it is better to be at a run
in the brush with a dash
trying hard not to crash
these long mountain trails in the sun.

To remember the hills of Limerick
new boots to make you helluva quick
in the great outdoors
over here on our shores
where the greenery grows just as thick.

An Elegy Written at a Mountain Cemetery 

A day or two had past in darkened home,
our spirits soared with hope yet worn and thin
with sleep upon our eyes we packed our bags
with gear to keep our children safe and warm
to hike across the way to Callahan
and walk among the pine, among the twigs.

Elias slung on chest and Sam beside
my feet with Hannah close behind we fell
upon a trail through deep thick brush a trail
that led our step with lightened thoughtful stride
behind we left America to sell
its memories tall in pine behind our sail.

When Sam who ran ahead did call our names
and we did hasten up our step to see
that nestled deep within this pine was found
a plot of land where death had made a claim
upon this mountain scene a silent plea
to rest forever lost in natures sound.

We sauntered past each stone to read the word
of families lost in time each solemn verse
of dream so buried deep within this soil.
I held my children close with this new chord
of song the birds above, solemn, rehearse
a memory of seasons filled with toil.

This old America, this wealth here in the trees,
to live each dollar step by step, to move
the family away to mansions in sky
to provide peace and solace, families,
each generation in this plot, this grove
of silence set in front of our soft sigh.

Elias cried a little cry while Sam
was knelt beside a mound and Hannah slept
without a sound a pillow made of grass.
With spirits lifted by this walk this land

with faith renewed in decisions we kept
we gathered up our gear to walk the pass.

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Jamie Lee Hamann

My name is Jamie Lee Hamann and I have a passion for writing short fiction and poetry. I started writing for TCE around 2015 and since then I have finished seven collections of poetry and plans for more. I currently live in Lemmon Valley NV with my family. If you desire to find my other work on the internet feel free to stop by my website simplepoetics.weebly.com. The website offers articles on poetry, poems, and links to all my other writing.

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