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Amberly Dean Latham

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Rock Climber
by Amberly Dean Latham

Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Not rated by the Author.
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Recent poems by Amberly Dean Latham
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"He Always Keeps Abreast of the Time and Changes with it."

He is startled. The clouds above him move fast and he can hear them saying "He always..."rumbling down into his ear canal, until nothing else be spoken. For the clasp of rhythm and reasoning fell into his heart, broken with such a loud roar of thunder as it growled. He inhales, feeling the stones with his feet, some held together weaker than the rest. Grains loosen and sometimes crumble behind him. As he can hear an echo spread across his mind like a sailor in the sunset, he exhales. He always feels the past unfold when the rocks drop below and the future he feels forms within his palms, holding his hands to the jagged stones. Lifting himself up while gravity pulls down on his hard bones. He always
"Keeps abreast..." when the wind blows, his hands by his feet, he measures what lies in between. He knows the mountain is steep. But he is a rock climber "of the time and..." is traveling far and wide. He says there is great power in his soul and the higher he goes, he is mightier than the wind that blows. His body is stone. His mind is poper. His soul is the mountain that "Changes with it" when the thunder rolls. He is fine with his hobby for his hobby is his life.


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Reviewed by P-M Terry Lamar 2/25/2007
I know this has been posted for awhile, but I just found it and I like it. The quote is from i-ching something isn't it?

I understand about a hobby becoming a person's life, too. Most writers do. ;o)

See you later,
P.M. Terry Lamar
Reviewed by Joyce Bowling 12/27/2006
Nice write...and with so much that has gone on with the loss of the climbers makes it even more intense. Made me cringe as I read it envisioning the climb, I too like Jackie will just stay on solid ground, too much excitement for me! Great write, glad I stopped by.
Joyce Bowling
Reviewed by Jackie (Micke) Jinks 12/27/2006
Love the quote and how you've woven it through your poem. I could feel the enticement for the rock climber as I read this, Skye. But, to be honest, I prefer my tootsies grasping the level soil, grass, sand!

(BTW - glad you are posting again...keep 'em coming)
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