Splash Attack

By Robert Perry Peck

My wife, Ginnie, had a
hip replacement which gave pause helping
her. In this lull, about my seventy fourth birthday, I began to write.
I found many wells to draw from: My childhood, in the South, with
close family and friends was rich. I enjoyed camping, hunting, and
fishing adventures with by brother, Wilbur, hound dogs and friends.
A graduate engineer, I managed manufacturing in several factories
staffed by smart, hard working people. Active duty; US Army Corps
of Engineers, building airfields in Europe. Bright loving children and
grandchildren. The joy a wonderful wife brings a lucky guy.
The spontaneity of writing has become more demanding as I try to
create exciting, good poems. I hope you enjoy this selection.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 29, 2010
• ISBN: 9781462818884

Book preview

SPLASH ATTACK

Breathing hard, burning thighs

tight from a run, sweat rivulets

starting down my back

Sets me off down hill.

Legs reaching beyond limits,

bursting laugh inside, thrilled

into a falling run.

So alive, I suck in chunks

of air and oak pollen.

gasping for the boat dock—

I hit the lake.

Hard splash, hot belly parting cool;

warm back gliding in the sun,

face down, hotness dissolving into wet.

Sweet happiness,

at the seams, cold bottom

meeting hot on top; feeling all in.

Weightless floating out.

Deep cool wetness seeking;

eager to touch and hold me.

5/18 /10

AUTUMN WALK

I wore a chilly nose today,

among the prattling leaves.

Yes, they had much and loud to say

in the nippy swirling breeze.

A giddy lot, they swirled around,

and chattered gossipy;

of who to blame for anything,

and what to do with me.

The weather spoke bright for itself,

So, we talked financial things,

interest rates, derivatives, and

when the Big Board rings.

They gathered all around my knees,

Hushed, conspiratorially

and whispered hope was in the wind;

of people well and free.

Then whirling round they gave a swoosh,

and chanted happily.

The pine grove had much less to say,

but smelled deliciously.

With boots for pushing leaves and ice,

we bent a circle round,

and met a friend whose leaves danced in,

and spoke of things in town.

A rustle for more at my back door,

but my nose was cherry red.

We commiserate most any date;

I need a freshened head.

12/11/09

BLUE RIDGE SKYLINE

Blue ridge mountain skyline;

parts heaven above and earth below.

A soft blue line lifts up to join;

to touch heaven above with heaven below.

This soft ledge, a celestial lid,

which if lifted for a peek.

Would nestle snug in place again;

a future rendezvous to keep.

Blue hills must roll on forever;

I approach; they move—keep me away.

A power line cut shows a snaggled tooth.

A flaw—man has had his way.

No sharp or jagged teeth outlined,

no fangs to fear, no maw,

just rolling, sinuous, serpentine, slopes,

ancient yet, they are here and now.

The magic blue, the Smokey vales,

that yield to green close by,

our spirits rise as morning fog

wraps round the bordered sky.

I reach out, far as a finger can,

to trace the skyline’s ups and downs.

To stretch, beseech, but