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geocaching poem? by Wallace Stevens


mozartman
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just reading some of the poetry of the amazing American poet Wallace Stevens, who died in 1955... and I found a poem of his that reminded me of geocaching. icon_smile.gif

 

of course, this one would never be approved...

 

Anecdote of the Jar

Wallace Stevens

 

I placed a jar in Tennessee,

And round it was, upon a hill.

It made the slovenly wilderness

Surround that hill.

 

The wilderness rose up to it,

And sprawled around, no longer wild.

The jar was round upon the ground

And tall and of a port in air.

 

It took dominion every where.

The jar was gray and bare.

It did not give of bird or bush,

Like nothing else in Tennessee.

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Thanks for posting the poem! It's nice to see some different topics in the forums. Too bad this thread didn't get more responses, perhaps everyone is to busy putting in thier two cents about the pirates.

 

I enjoy reading and writing poetry very much and your post inspired me to submit this as a tribute to geocaching and geocachers and I encourage other geo-poets to stop compaining about virtual caches not being approved and write thier own. Maybe we can revive the haiku thread!

 

Here's my attempt:

 

I placed a box within the woods

and hid it at the base of a tree.

It's drab green color recalls the days

when it held munitions, tools of fear

that keep people apart.

 

It's contents are more peaceful now,

not of the type that kill or maim.

Today it holds mostly trinkets.

Souveniers aquired along the way by people

who like me

are also searching.

 

And perhaps those few who choose to find

it's home beneath the grass and twigs,

will come to know as they add thier marks

to the book of others placed before

that we are all much more the same

than we are different.

 

"Now may every living thing, young or old, weak or strong, living near or far, known or unknown, living or departed or yet unborn, may every living thing know happiness!"

 

[This message was edited by cool_and_the_gang on October 03, 2003 at 12:09 PM.]

 

[This message was edited by cool_and_the_gang on October 03, 2003 at 12:11 PM.]

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Here's my two cents,

 

GEOPOEM

 

Computer, GPSr, PDA…

Searching, Downloading, Printing the page…

Topo, MapQuest, Gas Station folding…

Hiking, Canoeing, Drive By Urban…

Micro, Ammo Box, Camouflaged Tupperware…

Event Cache, CITO, Bumping into on the Path…

Email, Forums, Calls from the trail…

Virtual, Traditional, Reverse and Locationless…

Bench Marks, Mystery, Hitchhiker Travel Bugs…

Log Books, Signature Item, Broken McToys…

Where's George, GEO Coin, TNLNSL…

Moderator, Administers, the Local Approvers…

Avatars, Tag Line, and Locked Threads…

Significant Others, Lil' Buddies, Man's Best Friend…

Waypoints, Spoilers, First to Find…

Archived, Geomuggles, Pirates…

 

All a part of GeoCaching

 

70,369 and counting

187 and counting

50,500 and counting

 

In one voice we declare…

The World is Our Playing Field!

 

Bob ~

Early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese...

Isn't the best way to save face to keep the lower part shut?...Stephen Wright

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quote:
Originally posted by Kealia:

...I'm afraid the best I could do would be limericks so I'm going to pass on even trying. icon_wink.gif


Ah, c'mon, Kealia. Limericks can be fun!

 

A girl I once knew from Nantucket

Took a trinket or two from a bucket,

Then flew to an island

In southernmost Thailand

And cached them somewhere there on Phuket! * icon_biggrin.gif

 

*Note to Hydee: Don't panic; It's actually pronounced pOO'kit. icon_wink.gif

 

worldtraveler

 

[This message was edited by worldtraveler on October 07, 2003 at 12:07 PM.]

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Nothing in the cache but a McToy

And worse, it resembles a tick! Oy!

What to DO with this thing?

Should we let it "take wing"?

Oh, no, no! Just flick your Bic, boy!

 

Okay, maybe there's no good rhymes for "McToy"!

 

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Wearer of duplicative protective headgear.

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Well, it took a while. But I'm glad to see that others joined the creative fray. It is true "GPS reciever" and "McToy" are hard to rhyme.

 

Sijo might be the answer: It is similar to haiku but less restrictive. Sijo have three long lines. Each line varies between 14 and 16 syllables, with the middle line the longest.

 

The first line states a theme, the second line counters it, and the third line resolves the poem.

 

Here goes:

 

A hidden ammo box within the weeds.

Seekers, with heaven bourne telemetry, scour the landscape.

Even with decrypted clues, the treasure proves elusive.

 

Here's another:

 

They say tupperware doesn't make a good cache container.

My brittle, yellowed box, holding keychains and small figurines beneath its cracked cover

still protects the soggy, spiral bound notebook.

 

"Now may every living thing, young or old, weak or strong, living near or far, known or unknown, living or departed or yet unborn, may every living thing know happiness!"

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By the way: Thanks to all who posted. Limmericks are always fun.

 

Okay, here's one last one from me, (not a limmerick (never could do those), not sijo either):

 

WHY DO YOU ALWAYS BUSHWHACK?

 

Isn't running towards the goal

more fun than walking?

 

Or did you mean to aks:

Why do I always let

 

impatience allow me to

make choices I've made before

 

knowing full well that they

will lead to similar painful consequence?

 

Ask my father.

 

What did he ever gain

by walking?

 

"Now may every living thing, young or old, weak or strong, living near or far, known or unknown, living or departed or yet unborn, may every living thing know happiness!"

 

[This message was edited by cool_and_the_gang on October 09, 2003 at 08:24 AM.]

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Okay, Okay! This will be my last one:

 

WHERE'S GEORGE?

 

After 271 years he still cannot tell a lie:

The old man is tired and more than content to travel across the nation the helped to found in somebody else's hip pocket.

 

Crossing the Deleware was more difficult last time, and tonight he will take quarter in a box hidden on the bank of the Potomac.

 

There, he will grind his wooden teeth as he presides with a stately gaze over the wild eyed Troll figurines, mocking thier wispy rainbow hair and gaping grins with his neatly cinched tail nad paper thin smile.

 

Such is the life of the General, now.

Trusting in God as his day unfolds that his next home will be a comfortable one. That the next person will pass the buck, that the next wandering soul will care to ask: "Where's George ?"

 

 

I'm having way too much fun with this.

 

"Now may every living thing, young or old, weak or strong, living near or far, known or unknown, living or departed or yet unborn, may every living thing know happiness!"

 

[This message was edited by cool_and_the_gang on October 09, 2003 at 10:01 AM.]

 

[This message was edited by cool_and_the_gang on October 09, 2003 at 10:03 AM.]

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