Bob Carlson

Here’s two sweet ones from my friend Bob Carlson.

Canoeing the Border

It all comes into focus here –

lost bays and calling loons ,

tough cedars and soft ferns ,

ancient dappled granite ,

endless mystic islands ,

and clear blue waters dancing

As our rhythmic paddle strokes

Glide us to an evening camp

Near a waterfall that rushes

constant through the night ,

Under a sky changing colors ,

even as we sleep .



 Diamondhead Peak, Wyoming

Sun like a diamond

cutting the pines ,

Wind like a river ,

moving my mind ,

Across time and space ,

the fabric of life –

backward and east

point of my birth,

forward and west

point of my death –

Cutting and moving

a mountain of gems ,

Cutting and moving

until this dream ends .





One thought on “Bob Carlson

  1. I like Bob’s poems!

    They made me think of this poem by Johann Gottfried Herder (1744-1803):

    Das Leben

    Ein Traum, ein Traum ist unser Leben
    Auf Erden hier.
    Wie Schatten auf den Wogen schweben
    Und schwinden wir.
    Und messen unsre trägen Tritte
    Nach Raum und Zeit.
    Und sind (und wissen’s nicht) in Mitte
    Der Ewigkeit.


    A dream, a dream is our life
    here on earth.
    Like shadows on the billows
    we float and vanish.
    And measure our slothful steps
    by space and time.
    And are (and know it not) in the midst
    of eternity.


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