Dam Seasonal Poetry
I have never been one to like poetry, nonetheless write it. But, I had given Josh an assignment to write a poem titled Winter '08, so to be "fair", I'd write a few, too. Though not well written, they are lots of fun to write!
All contents on his page are copyright protected.
|A Test of Fate|
|A Winter Like This|
Heels over Head -Newest
A Test of Fate
Tested our fate!
It started out cold,
And quickly grew old!
The north wind blew,
And the skies rarely blue!
Winds whipped and lashed,
You look for a gash!
Winds burned our ears,
And felt like sears.
The pine above swayed at its base,
But thankfully stayed put in place.
Once the snow started it just
would not stop
The paths are so deep you couldn’t see over their tops.
Shadows of human creatures dressed for the snow
Made snowmobilers bundle up and go.
Everything blanketed with a solid sheet of white
Falling from the skies both day and night
The woodland creatures find easy prey
Of the largest beasts that can’t run away
The snow is so deep, the moose lose their way
They stay on the trails with creatures of prey
Step off the beaten trail, and they fall to their death
With a mouthful of snow fleas they suck their last breath
By: Joshua Don Willey
Fog is covering the old way
Beneath the frigid white mist is where the hidden footsteps lay
Searching for a path, which they seem to never find
For on the infinite patch of ice and snow
There is nobody to see
The only thing you can have, is a sense of glee
Only peace is what you will know
As your body begins to collect frost,
A smile will conceal your face
All your sight will be able to perceive
Is the snow blowing in the breeze
The beautiful views bring tourists galore
All deceived by the pseudo sights
They think they can master the harsh climate just with the tools in hand
Then step above it, like kings of the land
The tourists come to Maine,
Their hiking gear intact
Those who foolishly brave the winter land
Will find that it will accept no pact
But when you have been beaten
You will soon realize
That what cannot be trusted
Is your own two eyes
For you have been defeated
Now that your ego has been laid aside
You may rest
This is Vacationland
Living in the woods as we love to do
Finds us rescuing people like you!
Rescuing people on land and on ice
Sometimes I wonder why we’re so nice!
Some are from Maine, but some are from away
We scratch our heads and wonder why they went this way!
To see all the beauty of the freshly fallen snow
Outtah-statahs have never seen so much glow!
Some come with devil-like grins
At the thought of creating all sort of sins
Taking our helmets is one that they did
The bastards took them and away they hid!
Some guy having fun rode into
One wonders if he said "Son-of-a-bitch!"
He dug and dug and dug some more
After an hour he said "No More!"
He came to the door asking the favor
Said he dug and he dug and he dug galore
he had to stop to save his own life
'Cause to continue meant he'd soon see the light.
Some come from afar for the winter camping experience
Clinging together for some sort of heat and coherence
Soon realize they don’t have what it takes.
Just get me to camp, for God's Sake!
They think, they ponder, then, they escape
In toward their camp after some debate
Their sleds get stuck in the deep-deep snow,
As they tramp in the snow wondering which way to go
Once at camp, there is no way inside,
To get to the door or inside to hide.
Digging through the
Find themselves wondering if they should just go.
Finding the snow blocking the door,
I wonder if they were up for the chore
Thinking the situation is bound to improve,
To get in, the door must first be removed!
To the rescue we went of the many who were stuck
A family living way in here?
A disabled man, a large woman, too
Not to mention a teen…are there more of you?
Some look at us in admiration
Others frown and think we’re odd
Here in the boonies
A family of loonies!
Winter ’08 turned out just fine
We spent it at camp without loosing our minds!
Though people think we’re very brave soles,
With determination of steel, we faired like moles.
Temps so cold they froze our lungs!
eyes water so much that tears could be flung
nose hairs freeze and become sharp as pins
You sniff, you cough, as crust cuts your skin.
You shovel, you shovel and shovel some more
It gets to the point you can’t shovel no more!
So you tamp down the snow and wonder how deep
The snow will be in the middle of summers’ heat.
Some walk around in a daze
Wondering how to get through the snow maze
The paths are so deep you can’t see over the tops.
Objects once 10’ high are now hurtful head stops.
When the wind blows the birds around in the sky
You tell people and they think that you lie!
Their feeders once filled with black oil seed
Now hits the windows at wicked high speeds.
Upon the wood stove sits a kettle for steam,
Getting it there takes a strong team.
The water is used for both cooking and cleaning
Ahh, the feel of freshness sends us gleaming.
Our family is mostly Maine tolerant,
but there are some that just say “I can’t”.
So, a few have left the -20 below
turning south, some 13 states to mow.
Little do they know that all is the same
It won’t be long before it’ll all be tame.
The heat, the cold, it is all relevant
Soon, they will see the South’s deterrent.
But, they look upon Maine and they sigh
Remembering they left and then ask “why?”
The two weeks of summer is now passed by,
Off to the tropics snowbirds will fly!
Thank God for technology that
is so great
Emails and calls we so often make
On foot, it’s one of those “can’t get there from here”
But, with the Internet we can go anywhere!
A Winter Like This
We have often wondered how we would do
through an old fashioned winter that we're not used to
Being at camp deep in the woods
Alone, our camp filled with lots of goods
Well Winter '08 was one that we endured
with lots of snow we sat real assured
We had our supplies, snowmobiles, too
Don't forget the Ranger, our number one tool!
Once the snow started, it just wouldn't stop
Oh, the camps around with all that snow on their tops!
Camps sheltered from the strongest of winds
Found their roofs covered, wondering what their sins
Three feet covered is certainly plenty
But four and five feet we think are too many
I take my camera and flashlight to get pictures to show
Walking to their camps through all that deep snow
This winter at camp proved better than most
At least we got snow, and more than the coast!
Walking outside and straight up the roof
taking pictures of it all is our proof
Paul with MS and that Lupus thing, too
He posed the most threat of living like we do
Though it's good to be stubborn, but know when to stop!
On the bed he'd collapse and down with a plop!
Josh being young, he couldn't escape
His chore was to shovel and get into shape
He tended the trash and the pee-potty too
Hauling water as if he worked in a zoo.
Lori-Ann and her clumsy, clumsy ways
Would fall or trip no matter which the way.
Soon on the mend from a whiplash and concussion
But all is better and onto another discussion!
The snow is so deep, there is no way to walk
Each step taken is considered an obvious balk.
Lightly you tread so you can stay on top
Gently, easy, easy, then sink to a stop
A climb to the roof on a path made of snow
The ladder is hidden under all that bright glow
A deep breath taken in awe of the view
If we can handle a winter like this so can you
Ice Fishing 08’
As ice fishing came upon, we gathered our goods for wear,
Next we check the safeness of the ice…we timidly want to dare.
The back cove is our first test as that is the route to take
Some three miles out is our ultimate goal, but we’ll go as far as it is safe
With Paul’s cane as our measuring stick that easily hooks the bottom of the hole
We wonder if we’ll ever make it out of the &*$% back cove!
Drilling often is what we do to ensure all is well
Checking every 50 feet is the only way to tell!
For the channel that we must cross is usually slow to ice.
But once upon the other side, there were rocks worse than ice
Past the rocks and up the channel seemed the best route to take
Now only if our shack could make it without getting stuck upon the lake!
Once the shack was at our spot, we anxiously set the traps
It didn’t matter if a flag went up it was fun just sitting in the shack
At times the snow was just too deep so the with the Ranger Paul did plow
A line zigzagging about so traps could be seen without going on the prowl
One time the plowed made banks three feet tall
...and I didn’t like the banks for walls!
‘cause it wasn’t just us that could hit that bank
Anyone traveling at night could hit it and go blank
One late evening, and time to pick up traps
The sky was black and no time
Paul jumped in the Ranger and crept it along
Leaving is door cracked isn’t how it belonged
All of a sudden, he hit his
And door parts made a wailing call
The snow was deep and dark as could be
We scavenged for parts until we were beat.
We searching in the snow up over our knees
Hoping to find the parts, “PLEASE!”
The air was cold and my sputtering froze.
You should have heard our cries and woes!
We said no more as Paul tied shut the door
Thankfully we had some rope, though poor.
Once all tied up and the traps in the shack
It was time to Ranger and Snowmobile back
Paul reached in his pocket and gasped a big sigh
As a grin crept a cross his face sky high
Like Old Jack Horner, who pulled out a plum
Paul pulled out the missing pieces. Ho Hum!
Too Cold to Fish
At times the air is just too cold to fish
We sit and we ponder and we wish, wish, wish.
Other than the pain of our freezing hands
We cover our ears with thick head bands.
The bait in the cooler just under the ice
Think they have it just so nice
Once plucked with a net and ready for the hook
It may as well been stiff as a book!
We would cup the bait snug in our hands
While the other would try to hook it through the glands
In the spine, the mouth or the tail
It didn’t matter, the now frozen bait was too frail
The winds would whip and cause us to shout
We wonder why we are out and about!
At times my hands were too cold to move
They proved to be useless hooves
Our eyes they watered like a leaky faucet
Our faces so cold, it froze the eye droplets
The air so cold that if you dared breathe
Your lungs would wrench you think they bleed.
Lungs stinging hot from the cold,
Why oh why are we so bold?
The air hits your lungs and sends you to gasp
You cough so hard you piss through your ass.
But it didn’t matter why the tears streamed down.
Even turning to ice as they hit the ground
Despite the three feet or more of ice
The shack was too heavy for the ice to suffice
As it sat still, a dimple would form
Over time, moving the shack is typically the norm.
The shack is angled very precise
Have it wrong and the wind wasn’t so nice.
Two years ago we went to the shack
And noticed something was out of whack.
The closer we got, the more in awe we were
The 70mph winds and stronger they blur
The wind picked up the shack breaking all the ropes
It threw it around 180 degrees without hope.
Once at the shack, we were in utter surprise
Everything inside was all a wry.
Nothing was left hanging and all on the floor.
To clean it took two hours or more!
But, back to the dimple just for a moment
It’s something we expect with each new season deployment.
We have learned not to drill so close to the shack
‘Cause upward flow would send us wading to back track.
At times, we try to test our fate,
By setting a trap before it’s too late
Up the bait came, straight out of the hole
And swam the new stream in an upward roll
We laughed and chuckled at the whole action
Grabbing a picture, maybe for an option for auction.
Mostly we fish right up to dusk
Why fish at night when in day we catch cusk?
April first is the day for fools,
Those who fish, search for their tools.
With the sun bright in the sky it surely enticed
The sun on the streams still covered with solid ice!
A fun call to the warden service was one that should be made
Ice fishing is over and stream fishing thoughts invade
How can we fish if we can’t see the water?
The response is, “You can’t” belched with a roar of laughter.
A couple weeks passed and I couldn’t wait no more
The stream was about thawed, and fishing never a bore
I donned my gear and fishing pole, too.
On the snowmobile I rode to the stream. Woo hoo!
Once at the stream, the snow was still too deep
To walk was impossible, even to take a leak!
Sticking my pole into the snow
I walked around carefully, wondering which way to go.
To get to the stream was heavily drifted with snow
“Oh shit”, was what I said as I looked below.
One step off the trail and down I went
Both feet were stuck, I started to vent.
Twisting and turning and laying on my back
Finally I was freed from all that snow stack!
While still on my butt, I decided to inch
Thinking downhill would certainly be a cinch.
Little did I realize until partway down
How do I do this safe and sound?
Off the dam and out of site
Paul would eventually come to my delight.
I told him not to attempt going down the bank
Instead he took one step and sank, sank, sank.
Down he went and onto his butt
Landing softly upon the snow. What luck!
Once at the stream, I stood on a rock
Where to cast safely prompted me to scrutinize a lot.
With a pine tree behind me where I usually sit,
The branch I normally walk under is covered with this snow shit.
I delicately stand with my feet crotched in a rock.
With water pouring over the tops of my socks!
Eventually, I creep over the tops of slick ice
Of course they’d collapse, but I was all right.
Cast after cast and nothing would bite
“No biggie” I’d say as I thought of my plight.
Glancing up that steep embankment
I wondered if I’ll find a snow cave encampment
Paul joked about the drift being 30’ deep
And asked what I’d do if I fell with a leap
I chuckled and laughed and wondered why
I just didn’t fish the other side?
My attempts to walk back up that steep, steep slope
Left me quickly with little hope.
I climbed over the limb that I’m used to walking under
I used it for leverage, but heard a loud thunder.
The tree was fine and so was I,
But quickly decided that it was a lie.
To get up the slope, I needed two hands
So, with a big swing, my pole uphill would land.
Onto my knees, as if I had a choice
My bare hands on the snow, you should’ve heard my voice!
The crust was sharp and hurt my knees
My hands had to break through the crust…without ease!
The crust was thick enough to grab, pull and lift
My big ole body, wasn’t so swift.
After a while my hands hurt so I switched to my elbows
Ever do that? I felt like an old fellow.
With my wit and “charm” that isn’t so nice
I got to my pole and I felt for my knife
In my pocket it still was, to lose it wouldn’t suffice.
All in all my pole had to be thrown twice.
Once at the top, I crawled to a stop.
Panting and laughing at my ridiculous urge
To fish the stream before the locals surge!
“Let them fish from the top of the dam and get caught”, I thought.
Piss and Moan Rock
Those of you who enjoy fishing in a lake
Will know just from where these stories partake.
Little do those who don’t fish know…
What it’s like when you really have to “go”!
After hours of fishing, and hours of sipping,
You realize that your bladder is tipping.
Upon the boat you waddle and sit.
To stand means the urge to “sit”.
All those hours of sitting and gritting
Makes you wish you had something for the sitting.
The Luggable-Loo is generally her name,
But, to most she has a “piss-pot” fame.
Back at the camp, she sat content,
While out on the boat…and all those hours I spent!
Out in the middle of this huge beautiful lake,
There’s gotta be a way for my relief to take!
When you really have to go,
Is when the fishing is too good, you know!
With the Luggable-Loo, I can sit and tend to my pole.
Not like a man, you know that glow!
A man can stand up and lean over the edge,
And ahh, the relief that is often said!
A woman? No, there is no such thing.
Trust me! I’ve envisioned everything!
Short from stripping from my waist on down,
Propping my feet, and hands abound.
My hands they cling to the sides of the boat,
Oh shit! If I fall…well, hell, I’ll float!
I have actually tried that, but just the once.
Never again, or at least not for months!
Up I stood, and it wasn’t so pretty.
My pee it dripped and ran down so giddy!
So, here I am, seven hours or more,
Having to pee is quite the chore!
Upon the lake, I spotted a rock!
“There!” I said without much thought.
This end of the lake has no camps in sight.
There are no people, phew! “Alright!”
Over to the rock and gingerly I step
Onto the granite was where I crept.
Oh no! I have a one piece on,
So, off came the clothes in the tune of a song.
Squat I did, bare naked and all.
This big ol’ woman. What gall!
A couple bobs up and down is all that you need,
To shake the loose droplets so they don't find your knees.
Don't picture my face in such a disgrace,
It doesn't bother me, you're the one in haste!
Remember, when you squat and take that leak,
Always at a slant and you
won’t say “eek!”
Most of the time, you want a soft landing.
Splattering is something that’ll send you scanting!
My husband, he kept fishing as he drifted away.
The anchor didn’t stay, nor did I sway!
After I got dressed and sighed my relief,
Back he came to get me like an Indian Chief.
Now, for those of you who think I’m odd,
I tell you this in honesty and not with fraud.
The things we do to catch a fish.
Just remember, next time, bring the Luggable-Loo dish!
The rock, as with everything we do,
Now has a name, just like me and you.
The name given is “Piss & Moan Rock”.
Feel free to use it, the waves they clean it as new as a frock!
Now, thinking this was over, I have just one more thought,
For those who think it is wrong to piss on the spot.
Tell me, how many times have you pissed when you swam?
How many times have you pissed when you ran?!
So, keep all your environmental thoughts to yourself,
There are places for those upon the shelf.
It's not in the woods, or
upon the lake.
Pissing on a rock won't keep me a wake!
Heels over Head
Though the title helps you see,
That heals over head is what I’d be!
Traveling to the shack upon the sleds,
Is something that I never dread?
It was after a storm of light fluffy snow,
Little did I realize just how that would go,
In the back cove, all was nice and smooth,
But, out onto the lake and we were the fools!
The snowdrifts were plentiful and some seemed sky high,
I couldn’t help but look as I drove on by.
The storm winds blew the winds straight into the sides,
So the banks were nearly flat on the approaching side!
Real slow we traveled as we weaved around,
The next thing I knew, my face was almost on the ground!
The sled hit a wall faced drift and made my body go stiff!
My body did slam against the sled, boy what a grip!
My hands held tight in order not to fling off,
But my body pressed against the throttle! I’m off!
The sled it jumped the bank that sent me flying,
While the track spun in the air, there was no time for crying!
My feet flung up behind me and seemingly over my head,
As my face, well, I thought I’d be dead.
After the jerking around was totally complete,
My back, it had whiplashed after it left the seat.
Luckily, the going was slow out to the ice shack,
But by the time I got there, I realized my bladder went slack!
Yup, I pissed myself as I sprung through the air.
“My pants”, I thought. “Well, I have wash this pair!”
Once at the shack, I told Paul of the trick,
Of my grand handstand upon the throttle stick!
He sighed and wondered how I did such a thing,
His expression was to expect, from me, anything!
Back to the camp we went, and phew the going was better,
But, I’m now feeling wetter!
Once at camp, and after I changed my clothes,
I downed some pills expecting to sooth my woes.
Sleep I didn’t and pain there was!
I hurt severely for a month…without pause!
So, watch out for the snowdrifts that take your breath away!
And don’t do tricks, but impress if you may!
Copyright 2008 Willey's Dam Camp