A Poem a Day, Week 17, April 23 to 29

 A Poem a Day, Week 17, April 23 to 29, 2022

Welcome to Sifting the Rubble's weekly blog and podcast of my poem-a-day challenge for 2022.  I am your host, and poet, Emily Gibson.  The poems for the 17th week, April 23 to April 29, originated during the third week of my six-week bicycle tour south on the Pacific Coast, from Bellingham, WA to Santa Barbara, CA. I am grateful to the experiences on the road, the people we crossed paths with, and our immersion in nature, all of which inspired these words.   

Though I did not create or share blog posts while on tour, I kept notes in my paper/pencil journal.  As I pedaled the miles away, I composed poems in my head and jotted notes at rest stops if I found an especially good line I wanted to keep.  Typically, I wrote poems in camp, in our tent in the evening by headlamp light.  It gives me great satisfaction and creative joy to bring these poems to life now, after the tour is over.  (I do want to add that I am recording this podcast  during the first week of July, while recovering from Covid, so if I sound a bit stuffy in the nose, that is why!)  Without further ado, here are the seven poems from the third week of the "Headwinds and Headlands" tour!

As always, you can keep track of Sifting the Rubble's posts on these platforms:

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And if you would like to read the journal from the bicycle tour, you can find it here.  

Please like and follow and share in whichever ways suit you.  Thank you! :)

And now, for this week's poems!

Listen to Week 17 Poetry Podcast

Poem #113, What A Hill!

by Emily Gibson,  April 23, 2022

YOU know that hill was grand,

from the cramps in your feet 

and the aches in your hands.

YOU know that hill was glorious,

how those distant vistas

still dazzle your senses.

YOU know that hill was special

the way your wheels hugged

each smoothly banked curve.

YOU know that hill was supreme,

with its absence of traffic

and faulty rumble strips.

Everyone else will know

what a hill that hill was

when they see your grin:

So many no-see-ums 

plastered in your teeth, 

EVERYONE can see ‘em!

About "What a Hill!": This poem was written in honor of the downhill on Lewis & Clark Road, at the end of the connector from Astoria to Seaside, Oregon.   When writing this poem, it fell naturally into a 3-line stanza form, with a few natural rhymes that came up.  I especially enjoyed the ending, because I have picked many bugs out of my teeth after a great downhill!

Poem #114 Rescued

by Emily Gibson, April 24, 2022

Dan’s rescue wagon,

Linda at the helm,

Retraced our miles to Seaside,

Delivered Jay to A’s Bike Shop.

Harry reads at Cape Lookout

And monitors the pups,

Back in Seaside, Andy

Wrestled that wheel

So we could ride for real.

Tuna fish and chips,

Shopping for essentials,

Back to get Jay and his bike,

Ready to pedal tomorrow again!

Linda navigated our route from 

Yesterday, yikes, what a sight.

Seems narrower and scarier

From the passenger seat.

Back in camp, Harry greets us,

ready for cribbage all night.

Dan fires up a smokeless fire

For chatting away the whiles.

Dinner ends with marshmallows 

thin and square for smores.

Perfect, like the day.

About "Rescued": As depicted in this poem, we needed rescue on our second day of riding in Oregon, thanks to a mechanical issue that plagued Jay's bike.  Our Vancouver, WA,  friends, Dan, Linda, and Harry, were waiting for us at Cape Lookout state park, and they gladly helped us resolve the issue.  It was a fair trade, losing a day of pedaling yet gaining a day in their company!  

Poem #115, Our Tribe

by Emily Gibson, April 25, 2022

A member of our tribe!

What a joy to find,

On this road we meander.

A fellow traveler,

A bit cracked like us

To think this is fun!

How funny how lonely

A tour can be

Though steeped in humanity

We certainly can be.

But cars and busses

Cashiers and servers

Hosts and vacationing families

Just don’t count the same

As one two-wheeled bloke

From down under does.

About "Our Tribe": With these words, I tried to capture the absolute joy felt when crossing paths with another touring cyclist.  Shawn was the first we met who was traveling south, so it was our first chance to share some of the ride with another touring soul.  He was also a cyclist we already knew of, thanks to the facebook Pacific Coast Route page!  So while it wasn't a surprise to see him, it was very much a delight.

Poem #116, Nature’s Palette: Rust

by Emily Gibson, April 26, 2022

Fruiting bodies on lichen stalks,

Jaunty quail bobs of moss flowers,

Pineapple textured alder catkins ready to bloom.

Dried moss mats mask concrete blocks,

Leftover cones on last year’s trees,

Old logs melt, return to the dirt.

Chests of confident robins that hop,

Cows and horses grazing on green,

Millipedes' feet that race from our wheels.

Nature’s palette uses rust

To clue future or past

Or something that does rush.

About "Nature's Pallette: Rust": Continuing with the theme of colors seen from the vantage point of my bicycle, here I focused on the color rust.  After jotting down the elements of rust color I had seen, I noticed a pattern of past, future, and movement, which became an organizing structure for the poem.

Poem #117, Seven Devils Road

by Emily Gibson, April 27, 2022

The first devil grabs your heart,

takes your pulse past 180.

The second devil holds all the oxygen

until your lungs burn from without.

The third devil wraps your quads

in layers of lead as you climb.

The fourth devil tricks your mind

with a false summit every time.

The fifth devil is a downhill rush that ends

in an abrupt climb back up it all again.

The sixth devil is all of this in the heat

with zero water stations on the way.

The seventh devil is a headwind

pushing you back on the descents.

About "Seven Devils Road": The Seven Devils Road had loomed large in my mind ever since I first read about this alternate route from Coos Bay to Bandon, Oregon.  Many cyclists have written about the real difficulties of this road, and I figured it must be aptly named.  But I had no idea the beauty of this road, nor how perfect a cycling route it was.  I used this poem to play, somewhat tongue in cheek, with the notion of seven devils, and how they might plague a cyclist.  

Poem #118, Monotony of Miles

by Emily Gibson, April 28, 2022

Monotony of miles.

Straight road,

Good Shoulder,

Off Coast.

On the Pacific Coast Route,

Even the ocean's

Scenic wonder

Gets monotonous

When seen

Every 

Single 

Day.

Straight road

Good shoulder

Off Coast.

This monotony of miles,

Makes it a rest day

After yesterday.

About "Monotony of Miles": I firmly believe monotony is a state of mind, and that even wonderful things like seaside scenery, can get a bit old and ordinary if seen all the time.  Thus, the rarity of a straight road with a good shoulder took on greater meaning and more than made up for the lack of scenery on this day.

Poem #119 A Lonely Road

by Emily Gibson, April 29, 2022

A lonely road stretches

along a span of miles

where a rain soaked 

dark pavement reflects

the space between

one town and the next.

In a car this lonely 

road disappears,

insulated from fears.

rushed by wheels

hopped up on gasoline.

On a bicycle

the same road leaks 

forbidding,

foreboding

forestalling.

It's an ominous home,

it crawls into your bones

through hands and feet,

eyes and teeth.

No random wayside rests

or soaking in of vistas

on such a road.

Nose down

pedal on

get through.

About "A Lonely Road": There are sections of road that seem to have a feeling all of their own. The stretch of highway 101 from Port Orford to Brookings OR was just such a road. It may have been the weather, it may have been our mood, it may have been the history of the land itself.  Either way, I wanted to capture the ominous feeling of this section of pavement, and how it may be different for bicyclists, compared to people in cars.  

That concludes Sifting the Rubble's poetry for this week!  I hope you enjoyed this third report from the world of bicycle touring.  Perhaps some of them spoke to you, or maybe you found one begging to be shared with someone else.  Either way, thank you for listening and reading. Hope to see you next week!