GuyCraigPoetry.com
Guy Craig's poems take place in the Pacific Northwest. Nature-Focused. Mystical. Imaginative.
They become real when they leave my lungs.
The air becomes more like me.
I become more like dust.
Where it started - Rhymed
Prose Poetry
Stars
Away from town,
as the light goes to ground
I like to sit and quietly watch
the brightening stars.
The flap of an owl,
a far off strange small growl
the air moves across
my relaxed, careworn, old face.
The air I breathe in,
and my chest does ascend,
as my head and my eyes
move slightly tipped back.
Shimmer afar as my chair
sinks in the sandbar,
a sudden loud splash,
a squeal and a crash
cover the sound
of the ice rattling in my drink jar.
The night is alive with the chase,
our world is spinning on pace,
I find watching stars does imbue
the glory of the universe in view,
I am so lucky tonight
lets me life-hew.
Where Its Been -
On The Mountain
Who is the hermit on the mountain?
Are his sounds too light to hear?
The rustling of fabric, as he tends the fire—
steady, short steps, layered with the slight crunching of the duff
forest floor beneath the earth-kissed soles of his feet.
Much like the soft sounds of the world’s once roar—
peppered, crackling, blended, yet so muffled and distant,
now, seemingly nothing more than the silence after
a final soft snapping ember’s call as spent fuel to its flame….
Where it’s going….
“I hope these poems build on the rich emotional history of the Coos River Valley, Oregon, in particular, and more generally, any river valley; may they convey a sense of ‘home’ (life’s vicissitudes and all) and ‘this place was made for you.’”
— GuyCraigPoetry.com