Teddy Dondanville
Rock Climbing Guide & Freelance Writer
Archives
I by far am the happiest I can be when I am in the mountains. The fresh air. The cool temperatures. The sun, wind, rain and snow. The high elevation. The views. The space. The skiing, climbing, cycling, hiking and camping. All of that feeds me. Feeds my body. Shaping me and it. Forging me into the person I love to be. This poem series is about that transformation. About my body,… Read More
I by far am the happiest I can be when I am in the mountains. The fresh air. The cool temperatures. The sun, wind, rain and snow. The high elevation. The views. The space. The skiing, climbing, cycling, hiking and camping. All of that feeds me. Feeds my body. Shaping me and it. Forging me into the person I love to be. This poem series is about that transformation. About my body,… Read More
I by far am the happiest I can be when I am in the mountains. The fresh air. The cool temperatures. The sun, wind, rain and snow. The high elevation. The views. The space. The skiing, climbing, cycling, hiking and camping. All of that feeds me. Feeds my body. Shaping me and it. Forging me into the person I love to be. This poem series is about that transformation. About my body,… Read More
Life is like a flower feed it with passionwatch it grow. Open up, show your colorsshare your beautyand your scent. Soak up your sun, while you canbecause on Sundays the gardener comes.
I see the universe levitating above your shoulders. A cloud filled with your essence. They look, I beam. I beam from the beauty beyond the image. Your magic reflects in my eyes.
Winds and rainthey feel no painsmoothing out the peaks and valleys Sun and shadebetween the two a sharp bladecasting and cutting the earth into parts Brick and steelsmash all like a wheelseparating in from out and you from me Fiber optics and vivid screensdistort reality at whatever meansleaving behind dialogue for cheap data Bombs and gunsEvery color and country bear their gumsKilling one for another until there is nothing left
I slumber well and take my post, in my watchful tower. Tiny people can be seen moving round, from my little birds nest. The neighbor rooster can be heard, from my spot on high. The water boiled coffee’s ready, in my warm haven. The day ahead is young and free, Though I wonder who or what might also be watching me.
On November 1st a lot of Peruvians celebrate All Saints Day. Today the streets were full with flower vendors so that people could buy fresh flowers to bring to their loved ones who have passed on. Many families will bake bread, spend the day together and visit the cemeteries where friends and family members have been buried. Having moved out of my host family’s house I was not able to participate in… Read More
What has grown now travels along Plants turn to money but labor never stops too long The earth looks naked but far from cold Striped in lines new roots take hold In a blink new buds stretch their arms More residents making home on this farm
Teddy Dondanville 