A Foothold In A Mountain Range Poem by Phil Charters

Whispering,
Mountains on the breeze,
Over an island,
Across the sea,
Seeking,
Finding,
Beseeching me,
“Come, Come, heed my call,
Journey forth, and walk with four.”

God’s,
Of an ancient mind,
Cajoled, Conjured
Paradise,
For mankind to endure
Footsore up a rise
Walking, scrambling,
To fill ones eyes,
With what here about, is bountiful,
The gods created, beautiful.

Walking,
Through ones dream,
Delighted, excited,
Enthralled,
By towering crags,
Rocky tors
Falling away, to indigo lakes,
A landscape, still pristine,
A most perfect day, serene.

Mystical
Mountains in the mist
Over the plains
Through mud hole pits,
Bleeding,
Blistered,
Suffering, for our bliss,
Five weary souls, beneath a sunsets glow
A beautiful hardship, it should be so.

Hung,
On A rock face
Fingertips, bleeding,
Raw.
Fearing the worst,
If I should fall
Dangling, stretching
Searching for,
Life outside, my living cage,
A foothold, in a mountain range.