Posted in Friends, Family, Fun!, Gratitude, tagged earth poetry, Oregon Coast on January 28, 2010| 4 Comments »
My Brother Adam is quite a fine wide-brimmed hat model.
Where I started, others finished.
they found, me.
taking the place of I.
Night begins, the day complete.
I see Moon’s light,
is actually Sun’s light,
reflected to me.
Yet what truly fills the sky,
always,
still,
are the stars.
–Alex Newport-Berra
As well as cunning driftwood tightrope walker.
Posted in Gratitude, Poetry and Stories, tagged earth poetry, Green Springs Highway, oak tree picture on November 9, 2009| Leave a Comment »
Green Springs Highway, last week on an early morning ride, Brother Sun beginning his arc towards home.
a day spent outside
by Alex Newport-Berra
Today I heard the Earth breathe.
Her slow exhale pushing up
against the bony roots of an old oak tree
I stood still
and watched the horizon drop
She inhaled and I felt my spirit follow
pulling me down
through that space in the soil
cleansing
and I thought how wonderful it would be
to just stay, and lay, naked
my face pressed in Her beautiful, breathing
bosom
Look close, and see that his arc changes ever so slightly each day.
Posted in Poetry and Stories, Riding Bike, tagged Ashland Oregon, Dead Indian Memorial Road, earth poetry on November 26, 2008| 6 Comments »
Some weeks ago I had a dream in which I met a woman. The next day I was inspired to bring the form again to my eyes with pencil and paper. I did my best to draw, closing my eyes to capture the vivid image left in my memory. Unable to truly capture the form with my limited drawing skills I reverted to my preferred medium of words, and in so doing realized that this beautiful woman I met in my dreams was in fact a female representation of the amazing mountains around Ashland that I have developed a rather “intimate” relationship with from many ascents on my bicycle. Residents, visitors of Ashland, who have ascended Dead Indian Memorial Road have seen the western sunset sunlight draped across its subtle contours will know this form I am writing of. I have attached a couple pictures of the very hills that inspire my dreamings, if you click on pictures they will go to full size…
If every day I can find this
I realized the form of her hips was the line of the mountains to the east.
Her skin the golden warm summer grass in sunset dropping light.
The low between her navel and breasts the gentle valley
where the north wind wrapped like my hand held close.
It is where I fill my breath deep, sweat, and feel just how fast my heart can beat today.
Building Boats 