Buck's a poet in his dotage, and he is putting out some good stuff! Up there in the Boston area, he hobnobs with some of the best (including a poet laureate of the United States!), takes poetry classes, and is impressing the heck out of me.
Scroll down to read some of Buck's special poems, or click on one of the titles in this list to go directly to that one. Keep your eyes open as you browse elsewhere in this website and you'll find other poems that he has written for special pages like the In Memoriam section for the departed members of the class or the accounts of several of our class reunions which start off with a poem by Buck.
How often have I listened to the ocean
Making love to the beach
A continual whispering of
I love you Endless and everlasting is its song
The beach hears the song and remains
Locked in the waters embrace
The beautiful wonder of endless love
Lasting forever, two patient lovers.
Ah, but like all love affairs
Sometimes the whisper rises to a roar
A fight brought on by their friends the wind
And the sun - from love to anger.
The waves lash the beach
And the tension of love is strained
As over the sand the foam whipped water
Extends its mighty and awesome reach.
A lovers quarrel which in the course of time
Will end with the continual whispering of I love you.
Sand and sea forever locked in rapturous embrace
As the earth turns and spins endlessly around the sun.
As with the shore and sea
It is the same with me and thee!
We stood and looked at the dumb cannon
Astride the green open and wide quite field
Where once its voice was heard to growl inflicting
The shells on boys to tear the flesh to yield.
A dazed death for some and others conflicting
Reports in smoke and steel to wound and bleed
For victory to free the bound and hold the Union
They stood amid the fire to meet our need!
The battle over now we have communion
With each other, how love we peace, so still
No sound to whisper in the forest glade
For mute the guns are now in the night chill
No poor soldier sobbing anguished for aid
How calm we feel in the Silence of the field.
These
are our friends who have gone before
To
explore that distant heavenly shore
Where
we will meet them once more.
Their
journey here is done
Their
race has been well run
Earthly
cares now they do shun.
We
miss their laughter and smiles
However
we have some more miles
To
go before we reach their golden isles.
We
cherished one another in our youth
Days
of yore when we were uncouth
But
now they know God's everlasting truth.
One
day those mysteries they will share
When
we put down our worldly care
And meet them once more over there.
Composed by Buck Locke, February 19, 2005,
at the request of the webmaster for the In Memoriam page
Letting
Go
Don’t try to hold me when it’s
my time to go
I don’t want to keep the Lord waiting you know.
Yes I know about all the modern technology
That can keep one going with no apology.
However when my time is up, let me go
It’s not right to keep the Lord waiting you know.
Don’t put me on a ventilator
Or hook me to the respirator.
Let
nature take its course, the heart can stop
Let my soul leave to soar for heaven’s top.
In the veins the blood will coagulate and clot
Still the spirit flows free from the body's knot.
When it is time to go, don’t try to hold me
Let God have his way, my essence set free.
A living vegetable would be a sad end,
Turn loose and let my new existence begin.
There are those who refuse to turn loose
And fight in courts to keep their loved one connected
Perhaps it is good the victim is in a coma
For then they know not the pain that love inflicts.
Trapped, buried alive, but entombed for all to see
Mercy, Lord, have mercy on the victim,
For all in the battle are trapped with no plea
Per the loving perpetrator’s dictum.
Love can blind and leave all in a bind
The mother or daughter on life support,
Compassion cannot help them to find
A way out from one more last resort.
Once the decision is made to go on life support
Even when the physician has given up all hope
Sadly these things can wind up in court
Where a judge with imponderables must cope.
For who are we to deny that God may intervene
There have been miracles before and perhaps again.
For who can be the oracle with wisdom to come between
The grieving, distraught family and the patient on the machine.
We look into this dilemma from hell and cry
Please God take over and let the patient die.
Let the suffering end and start the healing
Acknowledge the pain that all are feeling.
So when my time comes to die
Let me go to meet my maker
Don’t hold me hostage, just say bye
And let me go to God’s sweet acre!
Why do we hurt those we love most
By refusing to let them give up the ghost?
Don’t try to hold me when it’s my time to go
I don’t want to keep the Lord waiting you know!
William Buck Locke
Hi-Lites
The HI-LITE’S pages are growing yellow
As we look back on that time when we were callow
Have the years given us wisdom to discern
All the lessons we needed then to learn?
The days of our juvenility are chronicled
In those old, faded mimeographed HI-LITES
The editorial exhortations to excellence and truth,
As well as the follies of fickle and fragile youth.
How we dressed and who was dating whom
The scores of our Bulldogs against opponents
The achievements of our scholars in bloom
And backgrounds of teachers, our proponents!
Struggling to guide us from the cusp to adulthood
They did and tried everything they could
Those were the carefree days of youth
When we were all gangly and uncouth
Halcyon days of long ago
Filled with angst you know
Who is dating who on the weekend,
Will it be true love or remain just a friend?
Could we get the family car?
What about a double date with older friends?
How to control all those raging hormones?
One didn’t want to be a parent while still a child!
The mysteries of girls which we are still struggling to understand
And the ways of boys becoming men to which the girls gave a hand.
Who to take to the dance? Who to put off and who to accept,
Issues each person had to resolve – their secrets well kept!
At the beginning of the year Majorettes were chosen
To lead the band they were very special
At the beginning of a new school year
Hopes were high and full of good cheer
To begin the new year Majorettes were chosen
Eleanor Morrison was the head majorette
While Ann Shook, Sara Tidwell and Charlotte Dillard
Represented our class you bet and yet,
Lettermen were welcomed back and cheerleaders elected
Our boys and girls were all respected
A look at the coming events was on the front page
Plans were made by all to learn and grow sage.
Cheerleaders were elected Rejetta and Irelle our rep
To fill all the students and fans with lots of pep!
12 senior lettermen return to the football team,
13 will play their last on Thanksgiving it would seem
But we start the year with great expectations
With games at home and on the road
Some will end in big celebrations
Others will deposit defeat’s sad, heavy load
Organizations: Glee Club, FTA, FHA, …the list is long
Something for every interest from science club to French
A mosaic of opportunity to be with friends and grow
As new challenges were met ourselves we began to know.
Mr. Boley had students working fo’shore
More clubs to form such as the Camera Club,
Literary Club, Girls’ Tri-Hi-Y and more
New activities, new opportunities with others to rub.
We had a DAR Good Citizenship Girl
Gayle Steverson best in our world
And the HI-LITES staff attended a workshop
At the University of Alabama so we would be on top.
The Student Council sponsored Friendship Week
To demonstrate that each who studied was not a geek.
We
had FTA inducting new members
To lead future generations by kindling learning’s embers.
Don Roper won prizes in General Motors competition
For his career we all knew he would succeed, no suspicion.
And Nancy Snyder tried out to play the lead
In the play “Sabrina Fair” and she did succeed.
An interesting note is that Mrs. Vines homeroom
Had been reading the Bible every morning
A practice which has been forbidden with doom
To anyone who would give out God’s warnings.
Also I see where there was a morning devotional
Read over the public address systems in school
Now we know religion has become emotional
Considered by the courts not very cool.
Elections of “S” club offices was a big event
For there wasn’t much to do except harass the Rats
As each year sports a new crop sent
For ol’ boys to paddle and threaten with bats.
To my great sadness I see the club of the week
In Dec. of ’55 consisted of ninety girls
Yes it was the Glee club what an idiot I was
To spend those days with athletes I did seek.
I guess from that you can see
That girls matured faster than boys like me
Perhaps it was all for the best
I still can’t sing like all the rest.
The Key club and Dramatics club
Gave a touch of class to the school
Bob Proctor president of the Key Ol’ bub!
For me I missed out playing a fool..
Do you remember the excitement of that day
Of Juniors ordering that class ring.
Would you get to keep it or give it away?
Little did we know what the future would bring.
Obituary for the Youth Center which was dying
Remember the Municipal building in days of yore
A place for good clean fun was trying
To keep us out of trouble, not what we were looking for.
Once again I search in vain
The Honor Roll list
To try and find my name
Which once again I missed.
There were those listed with all A’s
Next a list of those with A’s and B’s
Yes the top ones studied all the days
While the rest of us did just as we pleased.
But as you can image there were the usual suspects
Bette Anderson told me a few years back
Her secret was she and Irelle as you would expect
Sneaked out at night to study together – that’s a fact!
The Honor Roll was for the whiz kids
The best and the brightest that’s for sure
The cream of our class they always did
Study and do their homework – those kids were pure.
Then there was I with all the rest
Who attended classes so I would be allowed
To do the extra curricular activities I liked best
Just another face in the unwashed crowd.
I don’t know who was the Roving Reporter
But
I liked some of the quotes
Jim Holland, “That just gets me down and stomps me!”
Or Peggy Wynn “ Well my Cow” and Jean Gardner “Whatchu dewin’???”
What about some of the teachers quotes
Mr. Adair “Come on, people, let’s go through it just one more time!”
Or Mr. Ruby, “My goodness, people!”
And then there was Miss Vines: “Do you follow me, Class?”
Finally, Mrs Gaines: “Now class get to woik!”
Sadly, there are the quotes from friends who have passed on
Rejetta McNutt: “I’ll tell you what…..”
And Jane Flurry: “Tickles me”
Or Connie Johnson: “Well golleeeeeeeeeeeeee……!!!!!”
There are so many more but there isn’t time
To write them all, but they echo in my mind
Shakespeare was right, all the world is a stage
We play our part and exit; as fate turns the page.
There is a section “NAMES IN THE NEWS”
Which gave brief histories of classmates
And the activities that they choose
To follow and what they did was so great!
In other issues there was a PERSONALITIES page
A more lengthy description of a school chum
Such as Beverly Broutin a musician very sage
“..green-eyed, brown haired..” never glum!
Then a column of PERSONALITIES acrostic
With each letter part of the name of a student
I wonder who decided on this special trick
To make the layout someone had some talent.
In our class marriages were few
Kitty Stribling heard the wedding bells ring
Then Annette Crawford and man said “I do”
For Kitty’s ceremony Irelle did sing.
Speaking of her she had a column - KITTY’S CORNER
With movie and book reviews she was great
A well-read girl for whom I’m a mourner
For we can’t locate her – we don’t know her fate.
We looked into the future and saw our fate
Most of the guys knew they would be late
For we developed maturity pretty slow
Not anxious down that aisle to go.
The school paper had a column “Odds ‘n Ends”
Where we could look for the fashion trends
Our classmates dressed in the latest styles
Jersey blouses, sweaters, dresses won lots of smiles.
Homecoming was really a big deal plans were laid,
With the whole school pitching in you see
Lots of committees to form the parade
Our boy John Collins was on the finance committee
The PEP SQUAD gave us lots of support
Streamers for the cheerleaders a project
For their backing there could be no retort
Full of energy and fun for us to collect.
We played the Butler Rebels and gave a cheer
But it was not to be our year
Homecoming is such a special event
Ol’ grads came back or best wishes sent.
The HI-LITES staff reported how the DEMITASSE begun
Mr. Black former principle submitted the name in 1944
A small cup of coffee drunk after a meal. Yes he was the one
Our DEMITASSE will remain with us forever more.
There are many poems mostly anonymous
But Robert Scogin wrote one to which we can relate
It was an ode not sanctimonious
About “Blue Monday” and its curse on our fate.
“When all Fridays are so gay
And spirits all are true
Let me ask you if I may,
Why are Mondays always blue???”
We have different Hi-Lites now
Our children, grandchildren, husband or wife
God and family and community is what most of us allow
To be the most important things in life.
The days of high school are far in the past
We had problems, hard times and fears
Some of us hated those times; others thought it was a blast
We had ups and downs, during those growing up years!.
Falling down was easier then
We bounced up pretty well again
Now it is something to fear
We get more fragile each year.
Alan Jackson now has a song
“If I had it to do all over, I’d do it all over again!”
So that what happened was in time a long
Time ago, I want you to have fond memories my friend!
The HI-LITE’S pages are growing yellow
As we look back on that time when we were callow
Have the years given us wisdom to discern
All the lessons we needed then to learn?
Buck Locke, 2006
It’s up to us, my friend.
To decide whose values meet
Ours, on this the future will depend.
There are four candidates
Vying for two selectmen seats
Election happens on March 28.
Vote early, don’t be late,
Your choice is important that day
To determine the town’s fate!
Each prospect has a different view
And sees the best way
Going forward to a future that’s new.
So the decision is up to us
To vote for the candidates
That have our trust.
Don’t forget, mark the day
On your calendar in red
Pick the best, that’s no cliché
Don’t miss the day or fool around,
There are great opportunities ahead
Vote this election, support our town!
December 24, 2005
Daphne
Old Faust he made a bargain
With the devil for gold
He sold his soul
What did it gain him in the end?
Many states joined in the fight
The tobacco companies to sue
For ill gotten gains that did accrue
Our children’s health to keep right
However
now we find
The money to fight addiction
Has gone without contradiction
Into other areas, smoking has not declined
The settlement has put us in a bind
For increasing smoking gives more revenue
To do all the things politicians want to do
To buy more votes is what we find.
So we are now aware
That we really don’t care
About smoking addiction
Let
the children’s health go
We want the money to pay
For the things we don’t want to pay for our self
We will plow the snow and fill in the potholes
On the blackened lungs of our kids
The state can gain more revenue
By increasing the number addicted
This is a Faustian Bargain no one predicted!
We
don’t really care about those who are hooked
For we think their goose is already cooked
We don’t really care about those who are young
For their first puff has not yet begun
We don’t really care about the kid
Let him flip open the pack’s lid
We don’t care about the child
That tobacco will soon beguile
Let’s all light up to help the general fund
With all the benefits to our welfare
Let’s show our children we really care
About many things besides their health
Sure wish I could be there!
In the soft, sweet, southern, Sheffield air
To share memories with ol’ friends
See our world through rose-colored lens.
But I know you will have fun
At this reunion time fifty-one
I lift a toast, a cup of good cheer
Hope to gather with you next year!
Look at each other and thank God
For joy and his blessings as over
Half a century life’s path we have trod
Finding now and then a lucky four-leaf clover.
All of us have had ups and downs
Lots of laughter, some frowns
But on this special night
Look back with delight!
On those days of learning to cope,
When we were eager and young,
Fresh faced, full of new hope
With life’s songs yet to be sung!
We have overcome heartbreak
We did struggle and strive
To overcome adversity
Thankfully we are still alive!
Be filled with joy, my childhood friends,
No need now to make amends,
For all those might-have-beens,
We did our share, to show that we did care.
We remember those golden days
When we were learning our ways
Now looking back in time
You’ll agree, we did mighty fine!
Bumps and bruises quite a few
Sometimes feeling sad or blue.
Those times now are in the past
Enjoy each day now as they go so fast!
Sorry to have missed this occasion so dear
Catch you all soon, perhaps next year!
August 11, 2007
Mt. Washington, NH
Winter Hiking
2.27.03 Jay Village Inn
Sibilant swishing sound of snowshoes
And squarky sound of hiking poles
Moving me through snow shrouded spruce
Trees decorated as nature’s snow sentinels
The cold fog of our breaths a traveling cloud
Around our heads as in silence the small band
Of winter enthusiasts ponder the meaning
Of life and the mysteries of God’s nature.
The bone chilling cold quickly gives way
To sweat causing the party to stop
Packs drop to the front of snowshoes
As layers are removed and stowed
Terse hurried discussions about past
Hikes both better and more difficult
Are delivered before commencing
Again the winter adventure.
Weather is a constant concern
As little snow flurries could turn
Suddenly into whiteout conditions
Or clouds surrounding summits
When stopping for water and gorp
Eyes quickly check faces for white patches
To determine if Jack Frost has
Decided to nip a fellow hiker.
As temperature drops or wind picks up
Face masks turn the group into robbers
Determined to wrest pleasure from
Mother Natures hoard of accomplishments
The peak baggers muffled conversations
Revolve around numbers of hikes this season
And total accumulated summits on whatever
Lists are driving them into winter’s wonderland
The sibilant swish swish of skies on logging roads
Bring intrepid adventures to remote mountains
Where bushwhacks can begin
Transition from skis to snowshoes made quickly
As hands grow numb quickly in the bitter chill
As snowshoes are laced quickly to backcountry boots
Some move out slowly as others finish their preparation
While some quickly chase a power bar with Gatorade
Hydration concerns are constant as the cold
Sucks the water from the body as we labor
Up the sides of the mountain lured onward
By the siren summits soft compelling call.
The hardwoods at lower elevations
Give way to the spruce and fur
With the occasional event of a companion
Dropping suddenly down waist deep in the snow
Jack or Jill has stepped into a spruce trap
With the awkward thrashing and struggle
To untangle snowshoes from the branches
To gain purchase to escape the soft surrounding snow
Poles are extended from helpful companions
To pull the hapless victim from the panicky pit
A few moments to regain confidence in the snowshoes
Ability to provide a firm foundation and off again
As tentative steps turn once again to confident strides
Up the steep slope kicking steps into the snow
Or traversing to ease the ache in the quads
From the relentless burn of the steep sides.
What drives this brave band toward the heights
Inner goals that only they can see and understand
For it is impossible to describe the feeling of summit fever
As for a brief period of time shivering in the windy cold
One can see forever mountains rolling away
And experience the beauty of God’s creativity
The richness of nature, trees carved into a
Varity of sculptures by snow and wind
How to capture the romance
Of these hardy souls
Committed to the harsh winter weather
While normal folk are in their cozy comfy caves
Ah, the normal folk roll their eyes!
And find it impossible to understand
Perhaps the best explanation
It feels so good when you quit!
--Buck Locke
The town of Winchester, a Boston suburb and home to our classmate, Buck, is roiled in a controversy about the middle school canceling a field trip to see a stage production of "The Miracle on 34th Street", because some parents complained about it having a Christian theme. This caused a big stir in town with lots of letters to the editor of their newspaper, The Star, both pro and con. It prompted Buck to wax poetic in his letter to the editor:
Changing your point of view
Lets you see things in a different light.
So that what seemed wrong
From a different standpoint is right.
For every situation there are
Different points of view,
There are mine- correct by far,
The Star has been filled with the controversy
Over the “Miracle of 34th Street”, like a football scrimmage
Reminding one of the time a few years back
There was a push to do away with the Sachem’s image.
In both cases there are lots of good points
That have been made on all sides
Of the issue, even looking to the US Constitution
By which Winchester always abides.
Ah, but what I don’t like about human nature
Is that we get into the negative attacks.
And it gets personal in a hurry,
So let’s take a deep breath and relax.
Lacking facts we lunge to the attack
Did the Principal make the right decision,
That
was the cause of so much derision?
Some say he was right to take it back.
If he had decided the other way
I’m sure there are those who would say
He was being insensitive to the parents
And his position was errant, he went astray!
There are all kinds of lessons to be learned
And one is that over the years he has earned
The respect of a generation of parents and kids
And with some now he has hit the skids.
But I would posit that this is always true
That pleasing all is something you can’t do.
There comes a time to every man
When he has to decide and take a stand.
Sometimes we are right and sometimes wrong,
And all try to get along, having a discussion
Or a debate on the issue, which is the right track.
Let those who have not make a mistake
Be the first to throw rocks to break his bones.
However, the Principal will not have to fear
For no one will be able to cast those stones.
Was his position right or wrong?
Without knowing all the facts
It is easy to see
How folks could disagree.
Like all problems that are nasty
This one has many facets
Depending on one’s point of view
Both positions may truly be askew.
Controversy is our friend
For it makes us think deeply.
Once we get past the fervor
Let us not attack each other so cheaply!
Who would have thought the Jolly Ol’ Elf
Could cause such dissension!
In a town that does exert itself
In the belief diversity aids comprehension.
One lesson surely the children will be learning
There are issues for adults who with passion are burning.
However nothing now can be undone,
For who wants children to think school should be fun?
--Buck Locke, 2007
(spouse of Sandra, but every one knows that!)
April 10, 2008
When I was young and in my prime
Neil showed me his magnets one time,
He was going to run all 50 states.
I like to run and for goodness sakes,
That sounded like a good goal.
And I wanted to do it before getting old.
So about 15 years ago
I set out to do this you know.
I was traveling a lot then for work,
A business trip to a new state was a perk.
After retirement different states were hard
As Judy got be on her guard.
When I suggested a vacation in Idaho
She put her foot down – wouldn’t go.
So visiting Yellowstone early one morning
I got up early without much warning,
And drove over to Idaho just to run.
Let me tell you it was no fun,
The wind was blowing,
And it sure was hard going.
I may have said bad words about Neil
That day as the wind was such a big deal.
However I have got all the states but one
Again for Judy North Dakota is not fun..
Now to get to the point of this ode
Neil got me addicted to this road,
So every new place I go,
I want a magnet to show,
That there I did run you know.
So over in Australia a month ago
I got a Sydney magnet on my fridge
For running over the harbor bridge!
The highlight of Cairns for me
Was running along the Esplanade you see.
From there to the Outback.
Surely you can see I was on track,
To run around the desert’s hot red center,
At Ayers rock, but as a jogger not a sprinter.
Another magnet was obtained at Alice Springs
As along the Todd River my feet took wings.
So in Australia 4 magnets I earned
Due to Neil Morris you have learned.
For I heard him whispering in my soul,
A new place a new magnet is the goal!
So to Neil Morris I raise this toast
You have inspired me the most!
But I'm glad to be home and at rest
You set a great example – a real test!
CLICK HERE to find out about the Fells
MIDDLESEX FELLS WONDER
Come with me
To experience
The wonder
Of the Middlesex
Fells - Spring’s
Magic touch.
Come experience
The wonder!
Come my friend,
Here is the path
Into the Fells.
Come for we can
Explore beauty,
As we walk,
Trees awakening
From winter’s sleep.
Come inhale deeply
The forest fragrance.
Look, the buds
Are on the trees,
Leaves waiting
To be born.
Come see the magic
Of burgeoning spring.
Come listen
To the birds
Returned home,
Twittering as
They contemplate
Building their nests.
Preparing for new life
To fill the air with song.
Come feel the Fells
Awakening from winter’s
Sleep! Touch the buds!
Come sense, savor spring.
Know wonder and marvel;
Come into the Fells in joyful awe!
Buck Locke
View of the edge of the Fells from Buck's front yard
THE DOGS AT MIDDLESEX FELLS
March 20, 2008
Class assignment for Moira
The wet black asphalt divides the homes from the Fells.
The grassy park is an apron for the forest with
Underbrush providing a skirt for the trees beyond.
A path leads into those woods.
Perhaps winter’s closing breath
yields a thin covering of snow on the park
The crisp cold air tingles my nose
Causing a faint burn in my lungs
As the radiant royal crystal blue sky
Frames a welcome to the new day,
For the van as it pulls up
And eager passengers tumble out.
Yelping and barking to proclaim
Freedom from their confines
Six to nine or so dogs out for exercise
Followed by the dog walker
Able to keep control of the happy pack
As they roll and play in the open.
Buck Locke
February 5, 2008, en route to San Francisco
Connected
Seems like we are all bound
In the telecommunication web
One cannot be out of touch
For the world demands so much.
Look at how times have changed
From the printing press
To the telegraph
Was hundreds of years
The telephone connected
Point A to point B
And it was expensive
Used for important communications.
Radio followed and brought
The world into our homes
And one would sit in the living room
To hear news, soap operas and ads.
Only short decades later we have TV
Bringing in the world for us to see
Now from reading to hearing to seeing
The impact of events grows on our being
However still we were bound
To the place the TV was found
Tethered but connected
Not free yet as expected.
So the media is there to keep
All of us away from sleep
But then quickly came the walkman
Which free us from the tether understand
A walkman with tapes
Also AM/FM no escapes
Now wherever you go
You
can be in the know
Closer
and closer the web grows
As the more connected one goes
To find there can be no escape
As technology keeps changing shape
So the world changed to something new
As the internet changed all we knew
Home shopping for bargains around the world
Put everyone in a frantic whirl.
But this required yet a computer tether
And we had dial-up followed by cable
Or DSL if that was unavailable
From slow to fast keeping us together.
Who could have guessed the explosion of email
With the inbox filling up and overflowing
No way to keep up with the spam we fail
To be connected in the revolution we are undergoing.
Now
a new wrinkle has our eyes a twinkle
WiFi has us looking for a hot spot
Now is the time to wake up Rip Van Winkle
Not time to sleep, think or plot.
See how each step gets us all
More and more connected in the web
And the closer we are bound
The more our freedom is at ebb
February 15, en route from Blue Pearl bay to Nara Inlet
The following is an excerpt from Scott Turow’s novel “Ordinary Heroes” page 418:
“I think we’re fighting about what will unite people. I think that all of these machines we’ve fallen in love with in this epoch – the railroad, the telegraph and telephone, the automobile, the radio, the moving-picture camera, the airplane, God knows what else – they’ve changed the compass of life. A shepherd who tended his flock or a smith at his forge, folks who knew only their fellow townsmen, now contend with people a thousand miles away as an immediate presence in their lives. And they don’t know exactly what they have in common with all those distant companions.”
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Ed. Note: We're shifting to full page mode for Buck's epic poems. It will make it easier to cut-n-paste from his MS Word documents.
The origin of the name Acadia is credited to the explorer Giovanni da Verrazzano (1480–1527), who, on his sixteenth century map applied the Greek term "Arcadie", meaning the proverbial land of plenty, to the entire Atlantic coast north of Virginia. Another theory is that Acadia is derived from the Mi'kmaq term akadi, still found in place names like Tracadie and Shubenacadie (or, in the related Maliseet language, the term quoddy, seen in Passamaquoddy Bay), both meaning a "fertile place".
ACADIA NATIONAL PARK
What a beautiful place, mountains and sea
Cadillac mountain catching the first rays of sun
At 1530 feet the highest point on the east coast
Mount Desert Island where the rich came for fun.
The Rockefellers, Astors, Fords, Carnegies
Came in the 1880s, the wealthy elite
To build summer cottages
Those were mansions, really neat
These millionaires wanted to preserve
The beauty of the island for future generations
So they banded together to give the land
To all of the country for us and our progeny.
What
were they trying to save?
Artists came in the 1850s led by Thomas Cole
And the painters of the Hudson River school
Their picturesque paintings cool, the story told
Of the Wisconsin ice age 18000 years ago
Shaping Mount Desert Island by glacier
Rounding the mountains by ice flow
Making the landscape artier.
Over
the island it is easy to find erratics
Dropped by the glacier as it did melt
Giant boulders perched or balanced
On South Bubble looking very svelte
Or on the shore walk by Bar Harbor
With children trying to tip it over
Their muscles no match
For a 10 ton boulder, a near sea rover
In 1901 Charles Eliot, president of Harvard
Started the effort to protect the land
He was afraid development would
Destroy the tranquil beauty without a plan.
So a group named Hancock County Trustees
Formed and by 1913, 6000 acres were in hand
In 1916 it was turned over to the federal government
Creating Sieur de Monts National Monument so grand.
More
land continued to be added
And in 1919 it was designated the first national park
East of the Mississippi and now has 46,000 acres
With the name changed to Acadia in 1929 a remark
To honor this being the only park in the US
Where all the land was donated to the government.
A gift from those with a spirit of philanthropy
To us and our descendents, a present heaven sent.
To Acadia, proverbial land of plenty,
In 1947 touched and torched by fire, so it begins
As not much rain fell making it a tender box
A small blaze that was fanned by gale force winds.
Over 17,000 acres burned with 10,000 in Acadia
And the nature of the park was altered; dramatically open.
Spruce and fir that dominated the landscape
Gave way to a mix of pine, beech maple, birch and aspen,
Which now supports
a variety of wildlife.
As a deer walked down the drive at my motel
Out of the woods she came slowly, majestically
Knowing that in Acadia she was the belle!
The fire destroyed cottages on Millionaires’ Row
But thankfully downtown Bar Harbor was spared,
As the era of conspicuous consumption ended,
The pain of the fire by rich and poor was shared.
What we have now is a park more diverse.
New habitats brought by the fire abound.
Giving homes to a wide variety of wildlife,
Beaver, white-tailed deer and snowshoe hare are found.
Old
John Rockefeller Jr. left us a legacy
Of 57 miles of carriage roads ,
For bikers, joggers, walkers and horses
Wonderful natural beauty deserving of odes.
The crushed gravel roads with no cars
Blending in with contours of the land,
Closed down in the wet season
To protect a network so grand.
There
are those who say today,
That anything new is too hard to make.
However in 1923 the Secretary of the Interior
Made Rockefeller put on the brake,
As complaints were lodged to stop
The Bubble Pond road to save MDI beauty
Old John Jr. turned it over to the government
And now a small abandoned bridge; a little fruity!
A short hike up Flying Mountain
Overlooking Somes Sound
Almost closing the entrance
To the only east coast fjord around.
Following Waldron Bates cairns,
And blue blazes, we won’t get lost
To get a great view of Frenchman Bay
For very little effort, minimal cost.
On over to Eagle cliff
The peregrine falcons put on a show
Riding the air currents watching
For their prey down below
The wonder of nature
God’s gift he does bestow,
The wonder of sea and sand
Sun, mountains, woman and man.
Does it get any better than this?
Yes Jordan Pond and popovers
Good eating great ambiance
Wonderful experience moreover,
Nature is so really great
On to hiking and then there are birds
Over
400 different species
And their songs beyond words.
Hiking over the mountain trails
Their songs fill the air
The joy of fresh air
In the park with no care.
A visit to this Acadia a real treat
Where the air is so sweet
The sea around the island
Making Acadia so grand.
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More Buck Locke
poetry:
• Hi-Lites
http://www.geocities.com/bostonpoet2000/poets/july/locke.htm
