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Terse - An Inkling's Purse, Samples Of The Universe


Terse – An Inkling’s Purse, Samples Of The Universe

© 2016 Barbara M. Schwarz


Purple Eyes Publishing (PEP)

the value of knowing


Published by PEP at Shakespir

ISBN: 978-1-910774-86-1


Please respect the author’s copyright and the artist’s creations.


On the front cover: “A cairn reverse (the memory cloud burst)” 2016.


Shakespir Edition, License Notes

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Terse, a shadow, not a curse: a hiker’s memory purse, great samples of the universe.



Terse – An Inkling’s Purse, Samples Of The Universe



Why would you wish reverse?



Why sense a former curse?



Why wouldn’t you just see

a combustion engine

thrust to free


Those myriad possibility?



You spoke so hard

to shard

the joker card



your memory (had) said

now to former image lead



those samplings in your hand



the ground your feet command



the raw scrap and claw



unsmiling all that thaw



to hear the beat now gnaw



to feel you’ve hit your score



you spoke in different ways



your allegory now preys

as a motion sways

downward in heat shaft




you really had no call,

you just stood above it all



the shock that you now knew,

all those rivers caused to spew

see the bedrock flood in you


and washed away,

the hanging chores

of yesterday



you held onto your verse



an image now reverse

the anchor of the universe



so hard now to explain

the heat and thump and then

the rain – that rocky slate terrain

that has you ‘gamboling’ once again

in a nifty shifty way

where your feet now nimble stay



the shift of soil



the sense of toil

that had once caused the

blood to boil with determination

to complete the original destination


Assignation – what is your creation?



you left the moment, you…

turned around and brokered

true (the compass that remembered to

point to you)


and all the uphill suited too,

seeing how the path renew

what the rain obscured for you!


The vista view

the cairns accrue

the top of what you

came to.



you care not what you do

and an immerse-sharp

incision crew

set upon you


and in gore-tex you knew,

how you felt the earth renew

in a landslide about you



you felt your heat

go down



you sensed the

slippy ground, and

your core, had less store

than what your reserve had

bargained for

(have a kit-kat less or more

as you await the end of the downpour)



you wear a steely crown

to make it to the valley

down, where you cannot

yet quite see, a humming

light reality



you no longer free

what had once

‘mattered to me’


existentially, you

are one to sharper see

a simple source

of instancy



you shaped your universe,

all those ‘amblings’, just a purse

of shaken up, how things



into a brand new universe



you showed great teeth



you bite relief



you blasted overhead

(and a final farce went red)


Do you really think I care -

spewing sense of atmosphere


I am burst to almost full

I am season sharp to pull

All you wish is now for wool


And as I once heard said

“Wool is my bread”


so the Northerner lead to

a rainy hill hike instead


I am element in my past

I am built to last

weathered seasons cast

a final fresh air blast



An inkling from my purse

The ways that I rehearse

And with fresh air verse


A lineage linage purse

A fresh air signage burst



A sampling universe:

that category quite diverse

of what comes blasting through


caught in cold rain, my mind renew

an inkling of a world askew,

with great plans bold

and great plans new,


of all that I can do

with fresh air blasting




Purple Eyes Publishing


“Red, red, red – the coldness in our head” (was all the walker said of where the blood rush lead).


Red, raw cold, winter hiking now unfold, a myriad story gold, for when the wind blew bold, our hearts soldiered to the steely rhythm that we once knew, of always walking to ‘that bright light in front of you’ – there the fire can roar and all the fresh ale pour away the troubles that we met along the way, where an arduous journey stay as a vibrant source of yesterday: a cold and wet hooray with aching limbs in play to push a sense of pure achievement, beyond the loss of all bereavement.


Lake District pub: as you steam in a tub, the fresh air rub quite free: the elementary sensory!


Terse, for I had lined my purse with sounds of the universe that neither time nor place reverse, what all the fresh air disperse: a sense of pure belonging, with all that fresh air thronging free, a moment caught in cold pure energy – a simple mystery embedded in the history of every little twist for me: caught in my very bones – those journeys’ humming zones give to wider tones all that the earth owns free – in dash of height and memory – that pure ecstasy of running fast and free, a hybrid entity of what we now can feel, when we push beyond the deal of what the raw and cold conceal – here and now I reveal, I am humming wheel to turn to cart and steel, all that life appeal!


Terse, the joys of cloud burst: the elementary first for me, a scope and source of memory that set free my greatest primacy: to steel my very bones with brand new treasure zones of adventure (and every sort of nomenclature – for sure, for sure, we our own luck inure; for sure, for sure, here is pleasure pure, to ceaselessly campaign as sharp and endless rain on open air terrain), the beat that grasp so plain, I’m rushing down my plane and reaching down my valley into life’s joy alley.


Rain, rain, rain on me – the source of life’s own ecstasy! Water sharp with energy; water running free; desire now flee as I dance with glee: a simple sorcery – to enjoy the natural life I see running quite free all over me: excitedly, the drenched soul wired free a vibrant energy that moved the mountain to the sea, and let my mind climb free to every pinnacle tree of where I want to be.


In my mind, I always find, the fresh air bind, to memories kind (and all my joy can unwind).


The simpler time to see: I’m part of my own history – the growth of every mystery (a simple fresh air oath to embrace my inner sloth to see, a myriad possibility rain on me in exuberance torrentially).


The glory of persuasion, the instant animation is blasting fast and free, with fresh bouts of air and energy, that surround me, and I stay filled with glee: resounding memory, a heart hit energy of ions blasting through, where my thoughts renew with tales of derring-do, in mountain craft in hills so blue with bursts of pure sharp rain, my heart can leap in joy again over all rough terrain, and I won’t complain, when I see the frame in my mind turns misty kind and is blind to all that I may find!


Steamed up glasses – condensation stashes – vibrant water clashes.


Terse, the universe disperse, a joyful humming verse and I leap fast and free into cold water energy: a simple life spree – to always enjoy the journey in front of me (however cold the rain may be) – such simple cause to ecstasy, the moment generously renew, the way the blood that pushed right through with a zillion things to do – embracing every queue of rushing to the hills anew.








Terse - An Inkling's Purse, Samples Of The Universe

A hiker sense recall, the mountain slope stood tall, and the wind so icy blew, when all around I knew - I had no further need of you: and, as the memories spew, the fresh air soldiered through as thoughts of life renew - the myriad possibility crew.

  • ISBN: 9781910774861
  • Author: [email protected]
  • Published: 2016-11-02 12:05:08
  • Words: 1355
Terse - An Inkling's Purse, Samples Of The Universe Terse - An Inkling's Purse, Samples Of The Universe