Central California Poetry Journal

Volume 2000 Number 1

The Poetry of Central California Page 0002

The Poetry of Don Piccolo

Don Piccolo

Walk Among the Bay Side Stones

On trips away from the heated place
I oft find stones to eye ogle
Some I place with dear friend to tumble
To shine and seem as precious few

But some much more than a jewel
Some as rock do break away
From mother's bosom fall
Lay in wait for my discover

And when in hand the stories told
As torrent's flood and volcano's blast
Layr'd deep within are creatures bones
And some were trees when younger still

The finding is not so hard or ill
The walk along the shore so still
Face of a hill or sliding perch
Or where the ancient trees just fell

I count myself a lucky lout
To wonder where the ancients lived
And hang about as I'm inclined to do
There, where so many ages have passed thru'

Late Morning
Drake's Bay

Ran along the hillside trail
Past dangerous rock and cliffs
Down a small path where
Tops of weeds, were like wheat
And brushed across an outstretched palm

Sat on a marker stone
To look at Drake's Bay
With rocking fishing boats
Out rigged for catch of fish
In early morn while seabirds work the day

My son eager to re-visit his past
And ours the ancient Mother's History
Here the tide pools beckon
"Come and be by me
I'm gentle and forgivin'

I will not threaten, but give you both
Father and Son what you seek
The boy his dream of wholeness
The father a Wholeness of a Greater Source
For that is what you've come here for"

And Nature will here fulfill
As the sea --the life above, below
Those that walk upon the beach and stone
The wave and breeze, the ripple of water so
The sand, the crab, the seaside flower

All here, all part of me

Tomales Bay

Morning pelicans form'd vee in flight
No migrate but routine search
For fish and mollusk meat and crab
Their bodies strong, mine a yawn

Moved to overlook to view the bay
Primitive beauty wherever eye falls to lay
To sail boat moored across, rock in ripple
Blue green water, today, still and gray

Much to learn of California yet to discover
As born was I here in this State
And still so much to learn
Its vibrant beauty with every turn radiates

My mind trips back home with its pause and wait
The roads and malls seem to dominate
Where all cluster to push and bump
Yet when here, no big deal, its just a lump

As fog settles early morn and late again
The rhythm of the tide--the gentle breeze
Wash away those valley blues
And leaves me part of this wondrous view

Salt Point, Tide Pools Late Afternoon

Set camp and stacked the wood
For warmth this windy night

The sea with crashing waves that break against
The coastal rocks form'd perfect spots to sit
and idle as the seals do a few hundred feet from view

The sky is overcast, its gray as ship far out
perhaps, just simple working boat
Stories told could make it more but not for now

As time is quiet and youth abounds
Young lovers seek a heart stone treasure
And children hunt a long lost bottle

The tidal pools provide a wealth of prizes
A snail not fast enough to escape a catching
A hermit crab that's not so nimble--

The background on this page is a tiled .gif image made from a photograph of the Pacific Ocean before sunset

All text and images in The Central California Poetry Journal are copyrighted. Copyright by © by Scott Galloway 2000. All rights are reserved. See main Journal page for copyright information.
Authors and poets submitting original materials to this journal retain all rights to their original work, except those rights specifically assigned in writing to Solo Publications including the right to publish the submitted work in The Central California Poetry Journal. The poems on this page are copyrighted by the author. Copyright © Don Piccolo 1999.

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