Bad Poetry You probably never want to read

A long walk in the country

Along paths not often trod

Explorers come to challenge themselves

Not for glory but to measure endurance

And seek beauty in the world of nature

Stone strewn ways make winding paths

That rise and fall like the plight of man

At times a smooth and easy road

Others a scramble, eyes only for the goal

Through pages of information

Instructions are set and time is stated

Distance given to help us brag

In truth these words and letters do not matter

For the adventure is more important

And if we turn from the stated path

Through choice or fault of the designated leader

It is not the world's end

But adds to the stories we will tell

Both when we finish and on similar journeys

Oftentimes it is these simple mistakes

That make for the most amazing discoveries

And tales of pure joy and wonder

For now, until the end of our days we will laugh

Even if angry at the present time

So onward we waltz through landscapes a plenty

From deep within the wooded land

To rolling hills of grass and ground

Near water tumbling over ancient rocks

And boggy marshes that never drain

Up hill and down dale

Round coastal paths over dropping cliffs

And sandy beaches that fill our boots

We scramble up scree and thank

Those above when the land flattens

But what results await when we rise up

Beautiful forests that we now tower over

And serene lakes that watch the world pass by

The sounds of chirrups and chirps and tweets

Play a symphony to power us on our way

Every gaze upon the ground or log or foliage

A wondrous discovery can be made

Tiny creatures go about their day

Dancing as if making a show just for us

Many are their types and colours and purpose

So much so we cannot name them all

But whence a new variety is seen

We call our kin to become investigators

Pioneers of a science long since discovered

Guess what makes each species unique

If signal is available, our curiosity answered

If not, we can only wonder what we behold

Hoping to remember the encounter whence home

Nature doth provide a bounty true

But also we bring our own along

About halfway through searching for shapes

Of branch or bank or wall or field

That resemble the comforts of our homes

Where we can sit and chat and think

Unpacking bags and producing a feast

That would be fit for a king or queen

If they hath just visited the local shop

For this brief moment, directions matter not

Nor do the rigours of work or school

But for one tiny moment, we are free to enjoy life's bounty

Then again we can be on our way

Is this a path I see before me?

Or is it a shrub, just dense foliage

Blocking the one true way

Now I trample across wet rocks

But is this the route, or actually a stream?

Thought our feet are covered in foetid water

From muddy traps nature leaves

And our skin burns from the fires above

We never forget our true goal and the prize that awaits

Be it honour, glory or a sugary treat

And so we stride on past

The vivid greens and dull browns

Of Goliath monoliths that stood the test of time

What stories would they speak

If not only branch but tongue they had?

Between the sea of leaves doth sprout

A colour here and there another

Though no Latin name comes to mind

We can guess or make up what they are called

Yet a smell hath no name or description

But conjures up a feeling of joy

That harks back to simpler days

If luck be on our side then a striped insect

Moves from petal to petal

Letting us know life will go on

And when the aches and pains rear up

We can halt the expedition

A babbling brook, a crossing between two worlds

A place to stop and bathe weary feet

Or a spot of sport through skimming stones

Yet at times our way is not clearly marked

And journeying through others' lands is a must

But are we on a way marked path?

Or merely trespassers in another's kingdom?

Not that humans really own the landscape

For beasts of burden and fluffy clouds with legs

Graze and run and rear their young

In fields no man can really lay claim to

Whence we enter their fiefdoms

Either they run, scared as if we are dangerous invaders

Or confront us and hamper our way forward

The later we tell to other men

As if walking past a herd of bovine

Is similar to rescuing a loved one from burning buildings

When finally we descend into the comfort

Of snug cushion, pub seat or fragrant bath

And though our legs ache with weary joy

Whilst we scratch at lumps and cuts

From sharp spines or blasted beasts

We can smile, relax and rejoice

That the journey, not destination

Has made our soul a more sacred place