Both jonsdigs and timebot claim in the Caver Introductions thread to be poets. Ok, I'll throw down the gantlet...and see if either takes it up! Let the challenge begin!
The waxworks drip beneath the desert vugs coated with translucent calcite the color of tallow. Fingered crystals reach for aquamarine pools. In the cave lit like a living room, warm air hangs thick as in a stone sauna. Sonora. Alabaster walls leach loveliness with every drop, weird shapes as if the crystals forgot their usual habits. Gnomes molded this castle underground, troweled calcite stucco on the cracks, then blessed it and left, an ornate rococo plastered with chandelier pendants crusted with jewels and butterflies.
Analogies of what? Visions that we find in darkness Confidences shared With simplicity quite artless Advancing deeper yet Past earth tones painting grandness Friendships fondly tied Excavating where was blackness Fellowships are joined With our humor’s hearty coarseness Beauty always found In subterranean coolness Order kenned by few Leads us ever onward boundless Always wanting new Of a treasure felt as ageless
Last Edit: Jan 28, 2007 22:35:30 GMT -5 by jonsdigs
A stranger came upon us; we was digging us a hole Up upon a hillside where we felt some good airflow He just up and asked us why we’re diggin’ there so hard So we come up with the answer, “We dig for nothin’, Pard!”
He thought that we was lying maybe diggin’ for some gold Or sumthin’ that the injuns left; sumthin’ real old Truth didn’t enter in his head; he thought we’re on our guard When we come up with the answer, “We dig for nothin’, Pard!”
He didn’t have idea that we told it as it was Lookin’ for those empty spaces only just because If he had been one of us he wouldn’t disregard That we come up with the answer, “We dig for nothin’, Pard!”
Now cavers know our purpose diggin' in these holes Looking for those booming voids seeing if they go Those giant spaces absent of the rock we find so hard Of how honest was our answer, “We dig for nothin’, Pard!”
So he went off down the hill in an angry huff Believin' what we told him there was only so much guff He left and treated what we said as trash he could discard When we broke through spared us to say, “We found our nothin’, Pard!”
Last Edit: Feb 1, 2007 13:38:58 GMT -5 by jonsdigs
I’m terrible at names Like to think better with faces But you see ‘em in the dark In those filthy dirty places If you’re lucky get a nickname But much not even that It’s so hard to tell cave folks In the light and with no hat
I was driving down the road Not even major highway Thought I was all alone So I could drive it my way Then back there I saw the lights I thought that I was busted But he walked up smiled and said You look different when not dusted
I was at the grocery store To get some veggies some meat Maybe do some pasta That sounded good to eat But when I dropped that jar of sauce And stood there looking blue The grocer said don’t worry In that cave you’re messy too
Then was at that café Having me a joe Not the fancy–dancy kind Satisfying though Professional lady comes to me With looks to turn my head Then I knew I’d seen that face With mud make-up instead
So there you are at Grotto That often awkward time When we play that guessing game How would you look with grime? Maybe with a hardhat Some mud smeared on your face With our shared dilemma We grant each other grace
Last Edit: Feb 11, 2007 10:48:45 GMT -5 by jonsdigs
Since obviously this crowd likes rhyming poetry--(hey, to each his or her own) Take a gander at this one:
The Hodag Song Apologies to Dr. Seuss by Azurerana
Who speaks for the caves? We do, said the hodags, tripping the cavers Causing rockfalls, slips and light failures. We speak for the soda straw underground. It was so peaceful before you came down Clanking equipments and churning the clay Turning pristine dark into imitation day. We stand between nature and the mark of man Muddy footprints wherever he stands. We speak for the cave, as cave critters die Salamanders are squashed, the last bat flies. We wish you no ill, as only by our tricks Will you learn to be careful, and start to fix The destruction you've caused, and only you can end. These caves are my home, my friend And you humans are my guests-- Do you go visiting and leave the place a mess? We speak for the caves, the hodags said This is our hearth, our parlor, our bed And if you don't listen, we'll trick you dead.
I write of places whose occult awe with few will strike a chord (And not as this script) eschews language leaving still more bored I muse of those in darkness and its impact on their lives Contemplated situations when recorded my reward
Whether challenges of mining or caving we did survive The myriad motivations inside for us to strive These verses purpose reaching others so enthused The privilege found in all this to tell us we’re alive
There’s those that feel my poetry is doggerel since rhymes as Dr. Seuss And rhymes themselves are no big feat; fade stale with overuse My meter timed with discipline its framework oft ignored It’s my subjects that count most for me the passion for my muse